#i always feel so revived in such a special way thank you so much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

—Just Last Lifetime | Two

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wednesday is determined to recreate the special moments of your relationship to revive your memories—to revive your feelings. But it becomes apparent that the same memories cannot be created twice.

Warnings: Heavy Angst. Heartbroken!Wednesday. DestinedToBeAlone!Wednesday. Amnesia. Flashbacks. Violent emotional outbursts.

PART ONE

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Note: so this is it! The end...haha unless...👀 lol jk...unless ☝️

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"We're going somewhere for our studies today."

You look curiously at Wednesday, clutching the straps of your backpack a little tighter at the sudden spring of information.

Wednesday pretends to not notice your anxiousness, turning to walk off and expecting you to follow. She pays attention to the footsteps behind her, satisfied that you trail along despite clearly being reluctant.

It's been easier to spend time with you lately, with Yoko being incredibly busy with her club activities, and Enid has been keeping herself busy on purpose to leave you with no choice but to spend time with Wednesday.

Wednesday doesn't think you particularly hate spending time with her. You're always cordial and friendly. You've thanked her multiple times for taking the time to help you catch up on your studies and assistance with your current assignments.

Just a few days ago, you gifted her 99% dark chocolate for all the help. Wednesday had been intrigued, thinking you recalled how she preferred the bitter taste. But the intrigue swiftly died when you informed her Enid let you know as you wanted to do something for her.

It didn't matter. It was the fact alone that you went out of your way to give Wednesday something she'd like that mattered.

"Where are we going?" You ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and wariness the further you walk past the school entrance, clearly leaving. "Are we actually studying?"

Wednesday's eyes peer to the corner of her eyes to look at you.

"You study too much."

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Then.

"You spend too much time investigating, Wednesday."

Wednesday didn't even look up at you as she continued to pack her backpack for the day.

"I thought you were interested in coming along to find answers?" Wednesday's voice was dispassionate. There was a part of her that was tinged with annoyance that you constantly invited yourself along to her trips if you were just going to get sick of tagging along now.

"I very much am, but we've clearly hit a wall and I'm not particularly looking forward to walking around in circles in the forest today," you pursed your lip but then smiled. "Why don't we take a little bit of a break today? If you really want to, we can continue investigating tonight instead."

"You're willing to sneak out?" Wednesday raised her brow at you. She thought you were ridiculous for trying to bargain with her. The investigation was important, and Wednesday had no desire to lose any time.

She would investigate, and you were free to come along or not.

"I'll break any rule for you, Wednesday."

You said it in such a natural way, and Wednesday found that she was unable to reply right away. She looked back down at the ground for a moment, blinking before she looked back up at you.

"Where are we going?"

Wednesday had several ideas of where you might take her. There was the music hall, the planetarium, or even the garden. But what she hadn't expected was that you'd take her to the carnival.

"You didn't get to enjoy it, right?" You asked as you stepped out of the taxi, paying the driver cash. Wednesday didn't answer, but you knew the answer. "I mean, probably hard to enjoy since you were chasing the Hyde and almost died after Rowan did."

That was another one of the reasons why Wednesday didn't mind that you came along with her investigations. You were the only person who believed her when she said Rowan was dead, despite also being of the people who saw him in the aftermath.

When Wednesday asked why you believed her, you simply said she didn't come across as someone who would lie about it. So, if he was dead, he was dead.

"I suppose," Wednesday looked at the carnival before her. It was moderately busy for a weekend, and she wasn't particularly interested in doing any of these mundane activities.

"Alright," you clapped your hands, bringing Wednesday's attention to you. "We're on a mission today. I come here every year the carnival opens up to win the biggest prize, but my tickets were short since the carnival got cut short last time with the entire…situation."

"What are you trying to win?" Wednesday asked.

You grin at her, pointing far down the carnival with a specific booth. "That mini motorcycle."

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"This is rigged," Wednesday seethed, glaring at the booth worker who was nervously sweating ever since she approached.

You laughed, grabbing Wednesday's attention and the relief of the worker. "I know, right? We're totally just losing money at this point."

It was a simple game. A gun with 9 rubber bullets and 10 balloons to pop, and you had to win 5 times in a row with no supernatural abilities to get enough tickets to win the motorcycle.

It was not impossible, Wednesday knew that, but the balloons were not close enough where she could get away with hitting two with one rubber bullet.

They've both spent $100 at this point and while Wednesday would get 9 of 10 balloons every time, you would hit one balloon before you missed every other shot, hitting the corner of the wooden target.

As often as you refilled, it was starting to wear a dent.

"You're terrible at this," Wednesday bluntly said, but you merely smiled and shrugged.

A bit of wind was picking up, making the balloons circle around in their spot. Wednesday spotted her opportunity and chance when two balloons circled close enough towards each other, barely grazing.

Wednesday timed it perfectly and shot her 9 bullets, using her last one to wait as they circled towards each other before shooting and getting them both.

"Oh," you grinned. "That was really impressive."

Wednesday didn't react to your praise, waiting for the worker to rotate the next round of balloons and repeating her actions while the wind continued.

So far, Wednesday has won 4 times in a row. She had to pause as the wind died down, but it was sure to come back in a few moments.

"What do you want if we both win?" You asked. "There's only one motorcycle, so you may have to settle for something else."

Wednesday snorted. "I'm not sure I should get my hopes up on getting anything." It was a dig at the fact you've been absolutely terrible with your shots.

"C'mon, Wednesday," you grinned. "Dream a little."

"I don't dream."

"Nightmare it up a little," you quickly rebuttal.

Wednesday sighed, looking at the prizes that hung and framed the booth. Outside of random useless knick knacks, there were just stuffed animals—which were also useless.

But Wednesday's eye caught on a large scorpion stuffed animal. She wasn't one for being sentimental, but this was as good as it would get.

"That," Wednesday pointed at the scorpion stuffed animal.

You looked at it, grinning as you knew the story behind it. "Sure thing."

The wind picked up again, and Wednesday took the opportunity to win the 5th time in a row. The booth worker, whom Wednesday also assumed was the owner, looked relieved and reluctant to hand over the mini-motorcycle.

"I don't want to stand here for hours," Wednesday deadpanned, having already spent 2 and a half hours winning this prize for you. You would be here for 2 and a half days at the rate you were going.

"We're just about finished," you told Wednesday, and she raises her brow, thinking you'd given up.

But you slap down another $20 bill, smirking. Wednesday looked to your side of the targets and noticed the small dent you've managed to create with the rubber bullets. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if that was your plan all along.

Wednesday gets her answer within minutes. Suddenly, you've turned into a master marksman, shooting every balloon precisely until you were down the last two side by side. You tilted your gun, aiming it at the target, where you created a dent in the side. When you shot the bullet, it shot inside the hole and bounced against the wood, flying out with just enough force to hit the two balloons from the side.

Wednesday furrowed her brows in disbelief.

It continued like that until you won 5 times in a row without pausing. The owner looked like he wanted to say something but merely rolled his eyes with a certain kind of fondness Wednesday was sure you earned over the years coming here.

"The tickets get you two of these," the owner said, handing you two large scorpion stuffed animals.

"Did you have fun?" you grinned at Wednesday.

"It was passable," Wednesday admits, unable to fully say that even mundane activities like carnival games were interesting if she was with you.

As you left the booth, you handed Wednesday the stuffed scorpions to hold while taking the mini motorcycle.

"Look," you said. "Now your scorpion has a little friend to keep them company, or a little girlfriend," you wriggled your brows at her while Wednesday sighed, not commenting back.

She looks at the motorcycle and then at you. "Do you even know how to operate this?"

You smiled at Wednesday. "Not at all."

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Now.

The biggest prize of the carnival is still the mini motorcycle, as they don't change the award until next year. It seems they've stocked up since the last time the two of you were here.

Wednesday knows you already have one, but it wouldn't hurt to have another one.

You seem spirited to be at the carnival playing games, as it's obviously familiar to you.

They walk up to the same booth with the same owner, who clearly recognizes them.

"Oh, not again," he sighs. "You're going to run me out of business. Any chance I can talk you out of winning again?"

You look confused, but when you see the motorcycle as the prize, a moment of recognition dawns on your face from the one in the corner of your room. "I've already won this," you slowly say as a confirmation but not as a memory.

"Close," Wednesday drawls. "I won it."

You look confused as to why Wednesday would win the big prize for you, but before you question it, Wednesday speaks again. "It's time to repay the favor and win me one too."

You smile weakly as if the pressure is on, but you pick up the gun, studying the targets. The dent you created on the target was gone as the owner replaced it. You play a couple of rounds to get a feel of the game, while Wednesday puts little effort into her own game. It's unlikely there'd be wind again this time around. Even if Wednesday now knew the other method, it was something Wednesday hoped you would get on your own.

As time goes on, you're starting to get the idea of how to win. It's rather satisfying to watch you get to the same conclusion.

Wednesday takes her time achieving the same method as you. You're focused on your own game, not checking how Wednesday's faring.

You both created a dent relatively around the same time before shooting in sync, winning 5 times in a row.

The owner sighs, shaking his head and muttering about changing the rules about damaging the targets to win. Still, he hands you the motorcycle before asking what else you want.

"Uh," you hesitate, looking at the various prizes before you. Your eyes spot two stuffed animals that make you grin. "The bat and the wolf, please."

With the prizes in tow, the two of you leave the booth.

"What are you going to do with the mini motorcycle?" You ask.

"Teach you how to ride," Wednesday bluntly tells you.

You look surprised. "Oh," you chuckled weakly. "Right, I guess I probably told you I wouldn't know how to ride one."

Wednesday doesn't know what to say about your comment, so she veers off topic. "What are you going to do with the stuffed animals?" Wednesday internally sighs at the ridiculousness of the question. There are very limited things you can do with stuffed animals.

"I'm going to give them to Yoko and Enid," you smile.

"Right," Wednesday mutters, feeling something bitter rise in her throat but unable to identify it. Despite coming here and doing it correspondingly, none of this feels the same. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

You shrug your shoulders before nodding. "It's not bad to take a break from studying."

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The second time Wednesday takes you somewhere, you give her a confused smile.

"I'm pretty behind on my classes still," you gently point out, hinting that you're not up for another day of playing hooky, and Wednesday concedes with a nod.

"I'm aware. We aren't taking a break today," Wednesday clarifies, "we're merely studying in a different scenery."

The walk is silent as you follow Wednesday's lead. She takes you further down the river to an area you haven't explored before until you eventually reach a tall wisteria tree, probably the only one in Vermont, preserved with magic.

"Wow," you breathe in awe, "I didn't know we had one so near campus."

The gothic girl is lost in her thoughts as she settles near the base of the tree, grabbing the books from her backpack on autopilot.

You used to trail beside her, and now you always walk one step behind.

It's something Wednesday noticed as she took you around various parts of the school during your study sessions in an attempt to recreate the memories. She knows you're starting to find her odd, but Wednesday can't afford to tell you what she's really trying to do.

Wednesday's goal wasn't necessarily to make you remember everything by taking you to these places that hold special memories. If you never remember, that's okay. What Wednesday wants is to recreate the memories in hopes they'll lead the two of you down the same path it did the first time.

But instead of growing closer like you did the first time, it feels like you're pulling further away.

Even so, Wednesday can't stop trying.

"Um," you mumble as you search through your notebooks. "I was hoping we could pick up where we left off on ancient languages?"

Wednesday nods, and the two of you delve into the usual strict business of studying.

Everything is fine, and Wednesday is grading one of your practice sheets while you work on another. It's fine until she notices your trembling fingers. It's subtle as you were obviously trying to hide it, tightening your hands into fists and keeping them at your sides as you attentively look at the worksheet.

"I can't seem to understand the syntax—" you start to say but abruptly stop when Wednesday suddenly stands up, reaches up, and rips off a wisteria flower stock from the tree. She sits back down, reaching over and grabbing your wrist. The gentle squeezing of her hold prompts you to open your hand up, and Wednesday places wisteria stock into your hand.

The shaking stops, and Wednesday begins explaining the syntax to you without skipping a beat while you stare at her, stunned.

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Then.

"Let's go to the wisteria tree," you were holding Wednesday's hand as you dragged her along. "Today is such a beautiful day, and your skin is way too fair—I mean pale—I mean pallor—to be out in the sun."

Wednesday merely gave you an unimpressed look.

"Once again, you're disrupting my investigations. At this rate, it will take me a lifetime to solve the murders going on here," Wednesday's tone was disgruntled. "It would tarnish not only my reputation but also my ego, and I will make sure you die a miserable death for doing so."

"Ignoring the fact that everyone on campus would totally be dead," you turned around and grinned, "We'd have spent a lifetime together—before you killed me, of course."

You didn't add anything else to your words, but Wednesday could catch the insinuations between the lines.

A lifetime together.

A lifetime with you.

The idea didn't displease Wednesday at all; if anything, the fact that it didn't was more disgruntling.

A large wisteria tree appeared, and the two of you easily settled in. Wednesday was grateful that she had an inkling she should bring a book today in her bag.

"I love this place," you sighed with happiness. "I can't believe you found this place, and I've never noticed it in the years I've been going here."

"It's colorful," Wednesday drawled in response. The flowers that grew were vibrant violet and lavender, something she thought was entirely putrid, but she knew you would love it.

Wednesday was about to say something else when she noticed your fingers were shaking.

"What's wrong with your hands?" Wednesday asked with narrowed eyes.

You looked down, finding you were shaking, before clenching your hands into fists. "It's nothing, it just happens sometimes."

"It's not nothing," Wednesday seethed, angered that you would dare lie to her face. "Why is it shaking? What's wrong?"

You looked like you were debating something for a long moment before you asked her. "Can you grab me one of the wisteria flower stocks?"

Wednesday narrows her eyes at your avoidance, but she gets up, pulls a flower stock off from one of the branches, and passes it to you as she sits down.

"Why does it shake like that?" Wednesday demanded again.

"It's my power," you answer softly, wrapping your fingers around the flower. Wednesday watched as the flower in your handle steadily withered and died. You were smiling at her, but your eyes had a distinct melancholy look.

"This happens when I don't use my powers enough or use them too much. Air is generally made up of a lot of different gases but too little or too much of one causes disruptions in my body because the equilibrium between the air outside and the air inside my body isn't stabilized," you shrugged, holding the withered wisteria flowers in your hands that no longer shook. "I try not to if I can, but plants are a cheat way for me to expel and absorb air to find the equilibrium."

"Why not? It's obviously the most efficient way to stop the shaking," Wednesday frowned.

You shrugged. "I don't think it's a good idea for people to realize there are drawbacks to my powers and how to fix them. It may start with plants, but people will eventually start fearing I can use people the same way."

"Can you?"

You quirked your lip in response, and Wednesday knew the answer.

"Besides," you sighed, dropping the dead wisteria stock with a regretful frown. "Some plants are really beautiful. It's a shame to kill them."

Wednesday looked up at the hanging flowers and scrunched her nose in disgust. "I encourage you to kill this offensively colorful tree."

"When it makes you so miserable? I can't deprive you of that."

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Now.

The silence drags on too long, and your lack of response prompts Wednesday to look at you.

You're staring at her before Wednesday watches peer down at your hand, intensely in thought. There's a mix of disbelief and curiosity in your eyes, and Wednesday doesn't understand why.

This was normal.

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, making Wednesday's eyes nearly flutter at the sound. But the next words make her freeze. "Was I in love with you?"

It's something in the way you say it, curious and accepting. Something rushes into Wednesday's chest like a stampede, and she realizes it's hope.

Your tone doesn't suggest you remember anything, but Wednesday rationalizes that it's fine. While it would be ideal that you remember everything, it's not a condition Wednesday holds.

You’re biting your bottom lip, looking reluctant. The silence falls again and lingers until you speak up again, trying to be firm.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore. I don't know what I felt about you before the accident...but that's gone. I'm not going to feel it just because you bring me to places that mattered to us. I don't remember it and I don’t understand it."

Stop talking.

Wednesday wants you to stop talking. She closes her eyes, turning her head away as if that would stop her from hearing your words.

You don't take the hint.

"I don't feel that way about you anymore."

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It was fine—it was.

Wednesday spends the rest of her week doing various things. She writes, then she goes to the library; she briefly goes to the bee club until she can't stand Eugene's chattering and leaves. She goes on walks with Enid, who smartly avoids talking about you, and sometimes subjects herself to Xavier's monologuing and brooding in his art studio.

Wednesday fills the days with various activities while simultaneously avoiding areas you'd be in. It's not that she's afraid of seeing you, but simply that she doesn't want to.

This is fine.

The day has come to an end, and the sun has long gone from the sky. Wednesday decides to return to her room and play the cello before bed.

This is for the best.

Wednesday focuses her thoughts on her cello and what she'll play, and perhaps Thing will be there to turn the pages for her.

It is meant to be this way.

The room is dark when she enters, and Wednesday knows Enid is not around. There's a small feeling of relief that she doesn't need to face her roommate right now.

The silence in the room feels jilting in a way Wednesday's not used to. She used to be content in the quiet...until you. Then she grew used to your presence and soft chatter around this hour.

Wednesday clenches her fists.

Good riddance.

You were a mistake, and you did her a favor by cutting ties. This was something Wednesday should've done herself a long time ago.

Thing greets her on her bed, and she acknowledges him with a nod. She shreds off her backpack and changes out of her uniform before grabbing her cello and heading out onto the balcony.

The scuttling footsteps behind Wednesday tell her that Thing is quickly following.

"Bring me the new music sheet to play," Wednesday directs. She needs to play something different that would require her focus instead of her usual repertoire, which would allow her mind to drift.

Wednesday starts playing immediately, eyes focusing on the notes she's playing while Thing diligently flips the pages for her.

This is good.

This keeps her mind focused and sharp. Wednesday doesn't have time to think about anything else when she has to focus on what note she'll be playing next.

Despite the new piece, though, Wednesday's mind begins to drift. She has to make a conscious effort to keep her focus on the music sheet in front of her, but you pop up in her mind interspersedly.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore."

Her fingers falter, her cello emitting a jagged sound from her mistake. It's so unbelievably frustrating. She hasn't ever made a mistake while playing her cello since she first started learning it as a child. Years and years have gone by without a single mistake, and it was all ruined because of you.

You plague her like a disease that festers under her skin. Wednesday's done her best to ignore you for days now. She's been ignoring the sight of you, the talks of you, and everything down to the thought of you.

Yet, you were still there, underneath everything. You simmer like a slow boiling kettle until you can't be ignored anymore.

Wednesday closes her eyes frustratingly, willing you to leave her mind. She threatens her brain to erase the thought of you. It'd clearly be so much easier to forget you. After all, look how simply you live now without a memory of Wednesday.

But you don't go away. The memories remain with Wednesday, torturing her for what will likely be the rest of her life.

This was not a form of torture Wednesday ever thought she'd have to endure.

Wednesday opens her eyes and stands abruptly as she walks back inside. She didn't bother turning on the lights, and the only thing illuminating the room was the moonlight shining through the balcony.

"I don't feel that way about you anymore."

Wednesday clenches her jaw and tightens her grip on her cello.

How entirely damning.

Suddenly, a white-hot ball of rage forms in Wednesday's chest; everything she's been trying to push down for the last few days spills over. Emotions run a rampage inside her, unable to be controlled and ignored any longer.

Wednesday lifts her cello before violently smashing it into the floor, the body of it breaking in an uneven half, wood splitting into multiple pieces. The tailpiece cracks, and the strings snap, one of them into Wednesday's hand and cutting it.

The rage and adrenaline in her body don't allow the pain to register, even if she can see the blood.

How could you forget?

Wednesday begins destroying other parts of her side of the room—her bed, her clothes, her books. She pushes her wardrobe over and knocks over the chair at her desk, the loud banging ringing in her ears but not loud enough to cover the pain in her chest.

Thing scuttles back and forth in worry, but he cannot do anything to help his friend. He immediately leaves out the door with a mission.

How could you not want to fall in love with her again?

Wednesday pushes her typewriter off her desk—she thrashes everything off her desk. Her beloved typewriter crashes into the floor, the carriage breaking off along with other various parts. Keys pop off, making a ruckus on the floor as they hit it, but it doesn't bring any relief.

None of this is.

Wednesday pulls open the drawer, grabs out her manuscript, and looks at the last few pages she's written. Viper falls in love with someone who helps her with her investigations, and Wednesday has written up to the part where Viper begrudgingly accepts that fact she has feelings for this person and accepts their confession.

Wednesday has never gotten rid of any parts of her work all these years. Sure, she's done revisions and draft editing, but every scene down to its core idea has never been removed. Wednesday is a stern believer that every scene is meant to happen, and she cannot change the course of her writing when she looks back.

But Wednesday begins to shred multiple pages. She shreds page after page but doesn't know when to stop. Should she stop before Viper gets involved with this person?

Along with the anger settles in hollowness.

It's the realization that even if Wednesday destroys these pages, she can't really undo the fact that Viper has met someone and fallen in love with them.

How could you leave Wednesday to remember everything alone?

Wednesday hears the door open, but she doesn't turn around.

"Wednesday?" Enid's voice is soft and unsure, full of concern.

Wednesday doesn't answer.

Enid steps further into the room, shutting the door behind her as she looks around. The room is a mess with so many broken items on the floor, but her side remains untouched, nearly down to the tape they removed ages ago.

Enid is careful as she makes her way to Wednesday, the girl's shoulder tense with obvious rage. But even so, Enid knows her roommate would never hurt her. So, she places a hand on her roommate's shoulder when she's next to Wednesday.

"Wednesday—"

Wednesday is quick to whip around and look at Enid with violently accusing eyes. "This is your fault," Wednesday spits out. "I wouldn't be feeling this—this loneliness if you haven't been spurring lies to me about love." The tone is filled with disgust at the last word.

Wednesday has never expressed any ounce of emotion that would allow her to scream at someone, but she wants to scream at Enid and can't. Even if she wanted to, her throat feels so raw with something Wednesday can only detect is the urge to cry.

But even if Wednesday threatens her body to refrain from crying, the salty water spills from her eyes without permission. The spill and spill, even if Wednesday doesn't make a single sound.

Enid doesn't care if Wednesday punches, stabs, or even kills her—she pulls Wednesday into a bone-crushing hug. Her roommate resists at first, pushing against Enid, but it's useless against her werewolf strength. Enid holds on, even as Wednesday's pushing turns into desperate clinging.

Wednesday's tears are hot, and Enid knows logically tears are always hot, but she finds herself surprised they are. It's just another sign her roommate is all too human too.

"It's okay, Wednesday, I swear," Enid whispers, rubbing Wednesday's back in soothing circles, even caressing her messy braids.

There's no heaving or loud sobbing, as that would be too much for the somber girl. Even so, Enid can feel the tears soak her neck and dampen her shoulder.

"It's not," Wednesday's voice is so raw, as if the girl had been violently sobbing. She clutches at Enid's back, her eyes blankly staring at the mess she's made of her room. Everything is out of place or broken.

It shouldn't be Enid here, but the person Wednesday wants will never show up.

"I don't have anyone anymore."

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x ofc #wednesday x ofc #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #mm: my fics

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galactiquest · 8 months

Note

I just adore your blog! Something about it and your imagines are just so sweet and homey 🥺 Could I please request some headcanons for Vash, Woowoo and Knives with a reader who loves to draw and is really passionate about it? I mostly have general sketching/figure studies in mind but you can do whatever is easiest for you! I hope that you have a good day and your blog continues to prosper <3

Thank you for the compliment 🥺!!! I'm so glad it feels homey. I try to make things like a home here... after all I LIVE HERE... thank you I hope to keep this blog going for a while after trying to revive it like twice before!

I think this request is so cute, I'm an artist too (have been for like, over a decade ^_^) so I've got lots of ideas in that aspect. I tried to keep to general sketching/traditional stylings of art but I think a lot of these can be applied to other art areas too!!

Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives x Reader: Artistry

Content Warnings: None! Reader doesn't have a specified gender, and some parts of the imagines are a little romance-oriented but this could also be interpreted as a strong friendship. Also this is my first mutli x reader so I hope the formatting's alright. No version was in mind for any of these so take them as you will!

Vash

Oh, he is definitely excited about this.

Vash is a bit of an artist, himself. He can do those super-complex technical drawings, and he really likes making art of machinery and stuff like that. There's a lot of diagrams of his arm lost in a notebook somewhere.

He loves to see your style and interpretation of the things around you. Seeing the world through your eyes, even for just a moment, is like heaven to him.

If you ever give him some of your art as a gift, he keeps it hung up on a wall or wherever he can stay for a while. (If he's in a more permanent place, his walls are covered in your art. He just loves it that much.)

The ones that are most special to him, he likes to keep in his pockets, so he can look at them whenever he needs a morale boost. Like, this is what he's fighting for: a world full of love and peace, a world that's able to keep creating beautiful art like this for years to come.

One day, the two of you get to draw each other as a sort of practice. Seeing each other through the others' eyes... again, it feels like a dream. Vash draws all the parts of you that you weren't always confident about with such care that you feel truly loved by him in that moment.

Wolfwood

"Oh, yer an artist? ... Can ya draw me?"

Yes he will absolutely pull that stunt at least once or twice, if only to get a hilarious dirty glare out of you. If you do actually take him up on this, he might let out a nervous "Haha... I mean, ya didn't have ta' do it, but..." He'll be really charmed.

Though his hands are strong and nimble from doing all those flippant tricks with the Punisher, he's entranced with the way you're able to use yours to create, to draw.

He's always sneaking you extra supplies, like pens, pencils, and paper, whenever you least expect it. You never have to ask for any of those things anymore, or even shop for them--they just happen upon your desk whenever you think you're running low.

One day, he takes a piece of your paper and a pen and doesn't let you see what he's doing until he's all done. He's a little dodgy about showing you, eventually he does. It's a crude scribble of the two of you, though you can tell he really put his all into it.

It's your most prized possession, and you give him a big hug for it.

Knives

Much like Vash, he's actually an artist himself--but doesn't really call himself one, rather saying that he's... capable of copying something he's seen part-for-part. So, his drawings are more like pictures or prints. They're exact. Eerily so.

The art that you make gets a half-hearted snort of approval from Knives, which is basically one of the highest praises he can offer in his own sort of language.

Though normally he'd want to give some sort of unwarranted criticism for a drawing looking wonky or off, he saves you from it. He doesn't want to break your passion--but he's not going to admit that outright.

If you do ask for criticism, though, he's very thorough while keeping you on the road to improvement. If you're studying a specific style, he's reading up on it. If you're trying new materials, he's making sure you have all the tools necessary for it.

And speaking of materials, he's able to secure uncommon colors and rare tools for you to use for art. He's making sure that everything you create is of the highest quality.

One day, you drew a portrait of him and presented it to him as a gift. He gave out that little snort of approval and maybe even a a tiny "Thanks..." as he wandered off. He secretly keeps it close to look at it in his private time, tracing his fingers over the ink marks and recalling your movements.

#vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #knives x reader #vash the stampede x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #millions knives x reader #trigun x reader #galactifics #love mail #Anonymous

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rizsu · 1 year

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flowers for days & for you ayato, wanderer, kazuha, al haitham.

sum. smth between headcanons & scenario // you buy them flowers ( or vice versa )

ayato kamisato

"these for me? you didn't have to."

since he's been the clan's head man since his youngin days, he mastered the arts of hiding his true emotions BUT he cannot hide the little blush of red creeping up his ears.

ayato would be a tiny bit hurt he didn't get to give you flowers first but trust he'll personally deliver a huge ass bouquet to your door.

WOULD separate the flowers and put them in special vases all around the estate.

scaramouche

"how'd you know my favourite flowers were these?"

no, he does not know what those flowers are but since you gave it it'll suddenly become his #1 flower.

takes the flowers acting all cool and cocky but giggles when he's alone at home. if the flowers wither, he would 100% ask nahida to revive it.

"since you're the dendro archon, do something about this... please..."

goes on a hunt to find the prettiest flower for you so he can place in on your ears (like this) and feels proud of himself.

kazuha kaedehara

"oh..?!"

oh but not in a "oh" way but in a "oh we thought of the same thing"

you're not beating him. he is always the first to get gifts.

does NOT hide how he feels all giddy — infact, he'd make it known he got flowers from his s/o. he'd probably hold the flowers while sleeping if you're not with him.

catch him replacing the flowers everytime it withers away and adding a sprinkle of your scent/perfume so it smells like you.

alhaitham

"flowers? thanks."

dry answer. very dry. but do not be fooled! try to look at him in the eyes and he looks away. he's very much flustered.

you know he loves it when he suddenly knows where the flowers grow.

keeps it on his desk for emotional support. he's annoyed? your flowers. he needs something to ground himself? your flowers. he misses you? your flowers. he's bored? your flowers.

yk those resin charm thingys?? ya idk but i feel like he's secretly make someone ask kaveh to turn the flowers into a keycharm so he can hang it on his clothes/keys.

#+ rizsu: genshin.#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #al haitham x reader

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elmhat · 1 year

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// dsmp rp

A No Nuke AU Drabble, feat. Stagedduo

Special thanks to @call-me-apple / @dreamsclock / @carpedzem for the brainrot.

“So you’re telling me we’re done?”

Punz’s voice was deliberately steady, deliberately controlled, but the fire in their eyes betrayed them.

Dream was pacing the prison lobby. Distantly, he wondered how much longer it would take to wear grooves into the floor like this, with the mining fatigue. “We’re not done, we’re just… changing objectives.”

Punz raised an eyebrow. “So we’re fucking done.”

“Yes, Punz! We’re done with, like, revival stuff, if that’s what you mean.” Dream thought of obsidian rooms piled high with books, the mad scrawlings of two who were playing at science. They hadn’t moved any of it. They probably never would. “For now.”

Punz stood from the warden’s desk, and when they looked at Dream, he couldn’t be sure they recognized him. A stranger—and a threat.

“So let me get this straight,” they started. “Everything we did, all the things we did, together— you’re saying none of it fucking matters? I waited a fucking year for you, Dream!”

Dream advanced on them. “Oh, wow, that’s— I’m so sorry, that must’ve been so hard for you to like, sit around for a year while I— fucking—”

He cut himself off, taking a controlled breath. “I get it, okay? I know what I— what we sacrificed. It doesn’t change anything.”

“So everything you went through in here was for nothing.”

Dream balled his fists. He started pacing again, quickly, before he punched Punz or a wall.

“It’s not fucking nothing, Punz, how would it be nothing? Like— We learnt a lot, y’know, about revival. That knowledge isn’t gonna magically disappear. Now it’s time to actually put it to use. Start helping the server.”

“Start helping Tommy, you mean.” Punz spat the name like a curse.

“Start helping anyone, Punz! Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bro. What did Tommy do to your head? You’ve never, just, given up on something like this before.”

“Aren’t you tired?” For the first time, Dream let himself feel the exhaustion baked into his bones. It had been there for so long that he didn’t remember a time before. Every day, it got worse. “Don’t you miss not having to fight?”

Punz just shook their head. “Dude, you’re fucking delusional.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t! Back when you could actually talk to people, and not just pretend to like them. You had people. Sapnap, Tubbo…”

But Punz couldn’t be listening. Their eyes bore straight through him, as if the mask on his face were made of glass. “You never even gave a shit about me.”

“What?”

“You never cared about what I thought, what I wanted— so don’t act like you do now. You just wanted someone who’d do what you said, whatever random whim you’re on.”

Their eyes narrowed. “I’ll never be your precious fucking Sapnap, or George, or whoever else you’ve decided doesn’t hate you anymore.”

Dream was quiet. He stopped in the center of the room, and something like regret flashed across Punz’s face before being replaced with icy resolve.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Dream. “Maybe I don’t care what you think anymore.” In here, in this moment, the walls were stiflingly close. It was too hot. This place had always been too hot.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

Punz laughed coldly. “You’re leaving? The prison, you mean? Like— Forever?”

Dream shrugged. He didn’t know. There weren’t a lot of things he knew anymore. “Come, or don’t, I don’t care.”

When neither of them spoke, it felt like the ground beneath Dream was giving out. He knew what it was like to be alone; in some ways, it felt safer. But this was something else.

He turned away, climbing down into the makeshift exit tunnel.

“Hey, Dream?” said Punz.

Dream looked up, far too quickly.

“Give me the keys.”

Dream’s stomach sank to his boots. But he retrieved the keycard, and when he tossed it to Punz, it felt like the heaviest thing he had ever held.

He left without a word.

#dreblr #c!dream #c!punz #c!stagedduo #pandora's vault #no nuke au #dsmp fic #drabbles #my writing

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gummydummy19 · 1 year

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Kinktober day 5: Vaginal Felching

my favorite dessert

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x MALE READER

Summary: Wanda cooked for you after a long day at work, and you show her you can take care of dessert yourself.

Content Warning: Smut, vaginal felching (= creampie eating), sub Wanda, soft-dom male reader.

A/N: another male reader fic for the booiiss teehee, I hope you guys like it <3 also thank you @natashaxmarvelmen for the request! I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 1700+

"Honey, I'm home!" you yelled out as you walked through the front door. You were exhausted. It had been an awful week, but the smell of your girlfriend's cooking always put you in a better mood.

"I've always wanted to say that." You chuckled, walking over to greet Wanda. You wrapped your arms around her from behind and pressed a kiss against her cheek while she stirred a pot.

"Hi." she hummed appreciatively.

"Hi, sweetheart. That smells delicious."

"It's one of my mother's old recipes. It always cheered me up when I was little. I figured you could use some of that."

"God, I love you. How did I get so damn lucky?" you said, holding her even tighter.

"Hey hey, I'm equally as lucky mister!" she giggled, turning around in your grasp to finally attach her lips to yours. You hummed into the kiss, feeling all the stress seeping out of your body just from feeling her touch.

"Go sit down, dinner will be ready in a few."

Dinner was amazing. Wanda never failed to impress you with her cooking and as corny as it sounds, you could really taste the love she had put into it. The delicious food combined with the lovely company completely revived you. Before you knew it, dinner was finished and you felt yourself craving dessert.

"That was amazing, baby." you said, getting up to carry the plates to the kitchen and giving her cheek a kiss along the way.

"Hmm, I'm glad you liked it."

"I really did," you said, putting the plates in the dishwasher. "although I still have a bit of...appetite left."

"Oh," she got up with a worried look on her face. "Didn't I make enough? I think I have a little left over if you-"

"no no, baby don't worry." you cut off her nervous ramble "You just have me craving a very special kind of dessert."

You looked at her with dark eyes and a smirk on your face

"oh...oh!" she mumbled, catching your drift.

You didn't waste any time moving closer and picking her up. Wanda let out a giggle as she wrapped he legs around your waist and held on for dear life.

"God, I missed you so much," you grumbled, pressing kisses anywhere you could reach as you walked the pair of you to the bedroom.

"Missed you too..." she whined, "been thinking about you all day."

"Yeah?" You finally arrived at the bedroom, softly dropping her down on the fluffy mattress and hovering over her. "What did you think about, huh?"

"Your hands..." she said as you started unbuttoning her shirt.

"Yeah? What else, baby?"

“Your shoulders” she moaned as you removed your own shirt. Her fingers traced over your shoulder blades and went to your neck, pulling you down to meet her for a loving yet passionate kiss.

“Your smell, your eyes, your lips,” she said between kisses.

“Your arms, your thighs,…your butt” she giggled that last one

“My butt?” You chuckled

“Yeah, you got a nice butt.” She hummed before pulling you in for another heated kiss

“And your…your cock…” she said quietly.

You knew she had a difficult time with dirty talk. English wasn’t her first language and she was scared to embarrass herself, but once you had assured her you’d be turned on by whatever she said to you in bed, she started trying more. It was actually really sweet, and incredibly hot.

“Fuck, baby…” you kissed down her neck again, finally removing her shirt to reveal her bare breasts.

You dipped down to suck on her nipples, mumbling in between nips,

“Would you believe it if I told you my cock missed you too?”

That made her giggle a bit. Always such a sweet girl, your sweet girl.

“You drive me crazy you know that?” Your hands moved to unbutton her jeans, pulling down the material and taking her panties down with it.

“Hmm already so wet for me. You must have really missed me, huh?”

“Yes, sir, I really really did.”

“Oh good fucking girl.”

You loved it when she called you sir without having to ask her first. You could tell it turned her on too, the powerplay. She had a rough job, always having to be in control. Not in here, in here you were in charge and she was safe with you. She knew that, you made damn sure she did.

“You said you missed my hands too, didn’t you baby?”

“Yes, sir, missed all of you.”

“Hmm good girl. Move over baby, sit in between my legs.” You instructed.

You shimmied off your own pants and went to sit up against the headboard with your legs spread enough for Wanda to sit in between them.

You was stark naked and clearly needy. Her back was pressed against your bare chest and you knew she felt the straining erecting in your boxers pressing against her.

“C’mere baby spread your legs for me, like this.”

You showed her to hook her legs over yours. She was now sat in your lap, naked and needy, clearly aroused.

“Good girl” you whispered in her ear as your hands played with her boobs. Your right hand dipped lower, moving towards her dripping core.

“So wet for me, princess. Did you play with yourself at all this week?”

She shook her head no.

“Hmm no sir, been waiting for you.”

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? My perfect princess.”

You gathered some of her wetness on your fingers, slowly running your middle finger through her lips before softly starting to stroke her clit.

Her head immediately fell back against you and you could tell she wasn’t going to last long.

You altered between pumping two fingers inside of her a couple times and stroking her clit at a nice pace with those same, soaked fingers. When you could tell she was getting close, you curled your fingers inside of her and pressed the palm of your hand on her clit.

“Oh FUCK, yes please, sir…gonna cum, sir! SHIT!!”

Wanda came hard with trembling legs, clenching down around your fingers. You kept fingering her through her orgasm, making her squirt a little at the overstimulation.

“Oh good fucking girl! Such a good girl. C’mere…” you said and before she knew what was happening you had manhandled her underneath you. You quickly pulled off your boxers, which were now ruined by precum and lined yourself up at her entrance.

“You good, baby?” You asked, looking into her eyes to search for any signs of uncertainty.

“Yes, sir, please…please fuck me”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Wasting no time, to slowly but steadily pushed your length inside of her.

“Shit, princess, so fucking tight.”

“That’s…that’s not me…that’s you…” she moaned, referring to your clearly large cock.

“Fuck…” you grunted as you picked up the pace, fucking the both of you into oblivion.

“M’not gonna last long, baby…feel so good…pretty pussy feels so fucking good.”

“Cum…cum inside of me please sir…need to feel you.”

Holy fucking shit she was gonna be the death of you. Was she actively trying to make you bust prematurely?!

“Shit baby you can’t…can’t say shit like that”

“Gonna make me cum again, Sir! Please please cum inside!”

She wasn’t lying, you knew her body. You could feel her squeezing your cock and her chest was flashing pink spots. She was clearly keen on this idea but…you’d never done that before. You always pulled out. And even in your hazed state of mind, you wanted to make sure she knew what she was asking.

“Baby, I swear I’m not gonna last. Are you fucking sure you want me to cum inside?”

“So fucking sure. Please…”

Alright that did it. You reached down and rubbed her clit, pushing her over the edge hand in hand with you.

“Cum with me, princess, FUCK!”

She clawed your back and let out of loud moan. The feeling of cumming inside of her was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. It definitely felt better than pulling out and helping yourself over the finish. You pushed deep inside of her and couldn’t help but moan in her ear as you heard her whimper at the feeling.

The two of you stayed like that for a little while. Your hearts racing in your chests, beating as one while you stayed firmly on top of her.

You lifted your head from where it fell into the crook of her neck and looked in her eyes. You saw the love and adoration you had for her reflecting in her gaze, and it was possibly the best feeling you’d ever experienced.

You pressed a sweet kiss against her lips.

“How was that?” You asked, feeling slightly embarrassed of not being able to last longer.

“Amazing.” She reassured you. “I hope your hunger is sated now.” She grinned, and it was like a lightbulb went on in your head.

“Actually…” you started to pull put of her “I’m suddenly craving…pie”

She cave you a curious look, but as you crawling down her body, she slowly understood where you were going.

“You really don’t have to…” she started.

“Baby, I honestly don’t care. If you can swallow it, so can I. I’m not one of those bitch boys who cares about shit like that, I just wanna taste you. Let me have a taste, ‘kay baby? Let me make you feel good”

“M’kay” she sighed happily as you licked up the creamy liquid dripping out of her abused pussy.

“Love the taste of us, princess. Sweetest pie in the whole damn bakery.”

You ate her out like there was no tomorrow, all you cared about was making her feel good. When she was all cleaned up you moved your tongue over he clit, still swollen and sensitive from previous activities.

“Gonna cum for me again, sweet girl?” You asked, knowing the answer already.

“Yes sir….” She whined.

You didn’t say anything after that. All you focused on was her pleasure. You licked and sucked on her pussy until her thighs squeezed your head and her fingers flew to your hair. Wanda came with a loud moan and you licked her through her high until she started scooting backwards begging for you to stop.

“This will always be my favorite dessert.”

#gummydummy19 #fluff #fanfiction #smut #wanda x male reader #wanda maximoff #male reader #marvel smut #marvel #wanda smut #wanda fluff

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melonteee · 2 months

Note

as someone who finally got into one piece proper after opla, thank you for your opla reflections, it made me look back on some valid things. I definitely got swept up in the netflix fan marketing of it all, also as an anime fan who was always intimidated by the shonen big 3 it peaked my interest. It was a good entry point for sure (now im a gremlin just finishing dressrosa) but what's funny is it has that special netflix quality of being sooo very forgettable. the "content" of it all does that thing where it's the newest shiny thing that everyone consumes without much thought until the rush passes. but yeah you're right, the opla character are so different in odd and disappointing ways from their originals and i cant imagine revisiting it when season 2 comes out after seeing how the good the characters, world, and story are in a ways that just cant and dont need to be adapted for a netflix production

im glad i bit the bullet and got into the og, its been a really fun run so far! im trying to qork on it being my second thing like you say, i tend hyperfixate and burn out of stuff like this. its also revived my general anime bug again especially for shoujo since i still need my dose of girly pop warm and fuzzies

I’m glad it got you into one piece! As I keep saying, if the opla got you into the og, it did its job! But, as you can now see, there’s a reason I very much struggle to call it one piece when no one feels like themselves at all.

Anyways, you’re here now! We’re all being hugged by Luffy’s big rubber arms and enjoying the ride, and that’s what matters the most! Happy to have you here loving this series with the rest of us anon 🫶

#ask #melonask #oplatalks

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feydfuckernation · 3 months

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i want to take a moment to sit down and talk a little bit about sweeney todd.

my good friend @allthemidnightmemories has already talked about what this revival has meant to her and i want to do the same. like m, i grew up knowing who josh groban was for most of my life, but it wasn't until the last few years that i really started to connect to his music. after natasha, pierre and the great comet of 1812, i started paying more attention to his work, listening to songs like if i can't love her and dust and ashes every once in awhile and occasionally commiserating with great comet fans about the 2017 tony awards.

then they announced the revival.

now i'll admit, i was skeptical at first. josh groban as sweeney todd? the demon barber of fleet street? i wasn't nearly as invested in sweeney todd as i would be, but i had seen the 2007 film and i had a very hard time wrapping my head around the notion of josh groban playing sweeney todd on broadway...but it certainly kept my attention.

when i was a kid, i used to love musicals. i grew up with the films of the disney renaissance (i'm sure it will come as no surprise that the lion king was my personal favourite 🦁) and graduated to other musicals and films like moulin rouge and phantom of the opera. when i was in high school, i auditioned for a few of them myself. i was also bullied and picked on, which led me to quitting choir and theatre and putting as much distance between myself and the performing arts as i could. i stopped watching the films i loved, i stopped singing along in the car and the shower, and although there were a few notable exceptions every now and then, i was convinced i would never be able to enjoy it the way i used to.

sweeney todd changed that.

it was the first time in a long time i had really, truly cared about a musical. i kept up with the announcements. i read every article i could get my hands on. i watched every interview the second it was available, and when it finally started previews, i hunted down every single bootleg audio i could find until eventually i got my hands on a proper bootleg (shoutout to @bikinibottomdayz for the bootleg i purchased from them, it's absolutely gorgeous and i highly recommend their services).

much like m, it feels strange that a musical about revenge, murder and bloodshed could be so comforting, but i truly could not be more grateful for the joy and the comfort it's brought me during this particular point in my life. it reignited the love i used to have for music, it brought beautiful and wonderful new people into my life like m and @twoheartsoneclara, @loverboygf and many, many others, and for that alone i could not be more thankful. what josh and annaleigh have done with these roles has been a joy and a privilege to experience. it has introduced me to new music i wouldn't have otherwise found (chess pa svenska at 1am you will always be famous), it has inspired me creatively, and it has, above all else, become something special beyond words.

ever since they announced this brilliant, bloody revival, i have taken it upon myself to watch as many versions as i could get my hands on, and while all of them have their strengths, there is something about this revival, from the cast to the costume design, the orchestration and set design, that will undoubtedly be my favourite version for years to come.

josh and annaleigh and the cast and crew of sweeney todd, you may never see this post, but know that you have brought some much needed joy to someone in a time of need, and that they will always be so very grateful for that experience. thank you for all your hard work, your blood, sweat and tears, your laughter, your tears, and your love for what you do and for this story.

to stephen sondheim, wherever you are, thank you.

thank you.

-🦁

#i have a piece i'm working on to commemorate their run but unfortunately it's not quite done just yet #but i wanted to still say something because this musical really has been such a blessing in my life for so many reasons #and i will always cherish the memories it has given me #from the desk of lion #josh groban #annaleigh ashford #sweeney todd #sweeney todd revival

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unusual-ly · 6 months

Note

A prompt for Jemima: learning a new song

Another months old prompt finally being filled! Thanks, anon~ I couldn’t think of a story when I first got this ask and only had this idea around mid-August, and worked on it very slowly to post for Halloween season. It takes some time to get to the actual prompt but I enjoyed writing this one ^^

(Note - this does not align with my actual headcanon that living people only hear Jemima sing the one specific song)

Read on FFN

She was sad to hear of Mary’s moving on. Despite the briefness of her interactions with most of the other ghosts, Jemima had been quite fond of Mary; she was kind and motherly, and back when they were all still adjusting to her presence at group events, she would often defend Jemima against some of the crueler comments made, at least after Mary herself had warmed up to her. When Humphrey told her she was gone, she had huddled up in her pantry for days, the first time she’d done so in the last couple of years.

She had come to terms with the loss now, as had the others. And as much as they all missed her, now that they needn’t worry about frightening her, it opened up some new options at Film Club. According to Alison, at least.

Jemima didn’t always join the other ghosts for Film Club; the films they watched often weren’t especially child-friendly, and she wasn’t always interested in the ones that were. However, when October came around, Alison insisted that she come along.

Humphrey came to collect her, along with Pat. Jemima quite liked Pat, if she was honest, and she was glad to see him, even if it didn’t show on her face.

“Jemima!” Humphrey grinned when he saw her, “It seems you’ve been invited to Film Club tonight, Alison’s picked something special seeing as it’s almost Halloween. She’s quite excited about it, actually. Been wanting to show us this one for a while.”

“Why hasn’t she?”

Both men cringed slightly. Pat decided to explain.

“For Mary’s sake, she said. Apparently it’s about witches.”

“Oh,” was all she said in reply before taking Humphrey’s head from Pat and leading the way upstairs.

They joined the others already congregating around the TV. Jemima took her usual place sitting cross-legged on the floor, in front of Kitty this time, briefly handing Humphrey’s head over to Pat so she could get comfortable before taking him back and placing him in her lap. Mike entered then with a bowl of popcorn and Alison directed him to the empty spot beside her. The film began.

Hocus Pocus.

The opening scene - a little girl about her age drained of life by the three sister witches - both intrigued and frightened her, and she pulled Humphrey’s head close to her chest. He gently reassured her it was only a film, and she simply nodded once, and hummed the little song one of the witches had sung to herself.

There was another little girl, named Dani, who Jemima quickly decided was one of her favourite characters, and whenever she teased her brother for his feelings towards the older girl, Allison, Jemima shot Thomas a pointed look. He pretended not to notice, but the way he turned his head, propping his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his chin in his hand as he crossed his legs, only served to make him look more awkward. Jemima bit back a smile.

Billy, at first, also frightened her, but she soon warmed up to him, especially when he lost his head. She again held her papa closer, her lips brushing his hair.

When Binx the cat was run over, Jemima tensed up, hearing a few gasps behind her; in particular, from Kitty, Pat and Lady Button, but all heaved a sigh of relief when he was revived.

And when the witch called Sarah sang her song once again, Jemima’s eyes were locked, unblinking, on the screen. Humphrey, of course, noticed and chuckled.

“Well, Jem,” he whispered, “I’m afraid you’d be done for if this were real. Lured you right in.”

She only smiled, and sang along as the song continued:

“The time’s come to play, here in my garden of magic…”

Mike suddenly sat up, looking around in confusion, then stared at Alison, who stared right back.

“Was that…” he frowned, “… Jemima?”

“You heard her?”

The ghosts, apart from Humphrey and Jemima herself, all started muttering amongst themselves as Mike and Alison continued.

“… That is what she does, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but I thought it was only with Ring Around The Rosies, wasn’t it?” Alison glanced over to Jemima.

As did everyone else.

Jemima stared back at them, suddenly shy.

“… I never tried any other songs before…” she said in a small voice, “Not around the living.”

Alison relayed this to Mike, and he nodded.

“Huh. Well, that’s a new discovery.”

They all settled down again soon after that, but Jemima’s attention was now divided, as was Alison’s.

——————————

By the time the 31st came around, half of the household was nearly sick of hearing Come Little Children multiple times a day (although only Julian ever dared to complain in Jemima’s presence). Kitty, always up for a sing-along, would often join in.

It gave Alison an idea.

She and Mike decorated the front of the house ready for trick-or-treaters to arrive; Button House was so distanced from the village nearby that they didn’t often get visitors on Halloween but this year, they wanted to give Jemima an audience. Alison made two rustic-looking signs to hang on the front gate: “Trick-or-treaters welcome!” with an arrow pointing towards the house, and “Beware of ghosts!”.

As the first group of children came up the drive, a single adult a few steps behind them, Jemima watched from nearby, clutching Humphrey’s head.

“Ready?” he asked.

There was an anxious pause before she answered, “I don’t want them to be scared of me.”

“Oh, Jem,” Humphrey said softly, “Scaring is what makes Halloween fun, isn’t it? It’s all just pretend, remember. They’re expecting to be scared a little bit. And they’ll probably know the song.”

She took a deep breath and began to move toward the group.

“Come little children-”

The little boy and girl closest to her both jumped and squealed and Jemima stopped, worried.

“Keep going,” Humphrey whispered.

“I’ll take thee away,” she sang, following them as they kept walking, “Into a land of enchantment…”

She heard one of the children saying “It’s Hocus Pocus!” and smiled, growing more confident. She raised her voice ever so slightly, moving around between them now.

“Come little children, the time’s come to play, here in my garden of magic…”

She was leading them towards the door where Alison was waiting in a witch costume with a bowl of sweets and as they approached, she winked at Jemima.

By the end of the night, Humphrey was watching Jemima from his new vantage point on the small table Alison had brought outside as she drifted and danced about in amongst the trick-or-treaters, singing to them all the while, as they continued squealing in both fear and delight.

#bbc ghosts #ghosts bbc #jemima the plague ghost #bbc ghosts jemima #humphrey bone #bbc ghosts humphrey #headless humphrey #Jemima Bone #left a bit #happy Halloween month

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robby-bobby-tommy · 10 months

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Hiii, here's a postcanon fanfic I've been working on for a few weeks. Before you read a few stuff: 1) I didn't know Ultra Magnus' hand was replaced in the movie,cuz my procrastination doesn't let me watch it; 2) implied Optiratch but it's up for interpretation;

Word count: 2398

I will always think of you.

It was quite late. The day wasn't anything special, yet Ratchet, who was now in the med bay on Cybertron, didn't feel normal. The longing, that lived in him since Cybertron's restoration, was crippling more and more. Doctor wanted the day to finally end, so he can go home and let himself miss the only spark he cared about so much. The thought of him, his smile, his voice.... It was painfully tearing his spark apart.

The knock on the door stopped medic's thoughts. Ratchet sighted placing his servo on his closed optics.

"Come in", Ratchet said loudly.

It was quite some time since Cybertron was revived. Life was slowly getting back to the planet. Ratchet loved his planet dearly. He was fighting all those years for it and was prepared to sacrifice almost everything for its restoration. But this time the price was too high. He would gladly sacrificed his own life and spark if it meant his survival. But it was impossible. Even if he could, Optimus would never let medic to put his life on the line. He would've said "My old friend, this is a generous offer, but there is an other way". Oh why couldn't he see this other way for himself?

Ratchet's thoughts flooded his head again, so he didn't recognize a bot, that was standing in doors.

"Hello, Doctor." The voice was familiar. Ratchet removed his servo from his optics only to see someone he hadn't seen in some time. They kept in touch with each other (as everyone in team Prime did), but the work didn't let them communicate as much as they all would desire.

"Ultra Magnus! I'm quite surprised to see you here. How are you? What's bothering you?"

"I'm okay, thank you. Nothing specific. Just thought a check up wouldn't hurt. Especially since Wheeljack and Bulkhead wouldn't let me work in peace till I visit med bay."

Despite the wrecker's words Ratchet could feel, it wasn't his friends' unending whining that became a reason for this unexpected visit. He couldn't explain what made him think that. Ultra Magnus, on his behalf, wanted to visit this doctor for a long time. No, there was nothing bothering him. Magnus was already used to his arm-replacement, that was made back on war. But UM didn't know how to visit his friend due to all of their works. He has grown to care about team prime, but he would never admit it out loud.

"Okay. Stay still." Ratchet got his scanner and started checking former second in command from head to toe.

"How's your life?"

"Fine. Since the war ended I've had to treat way more patients, but Knock Out is a great help, at least for now." Ratchet chuckled.

"So you're on good terms? I, honestly, wasn't sure you'd get along." Commander's voice was genuinely surprised.

"Well, he was mostly civil, if you don't count eternal flirting." Ratchet rolled his eyes, scanning UM's body, which was generally in good state. Few scratches here and there — nothing so terrible.

"Tell me about that. You know how Wheeljack's like."

"Ohoho, I'll never forget his 'Sunshine' line!"

As those words left his mouth, doctor saw his patient's damaged servo. Ratchet's face quickly became more gloomy, as he felt his internal shame building up. No matter how much doctor has told himself that he did his best, nothing could ever convice him he couldn't done better. Just like with Bumblebee, Ratchet felt how much he had let down Ultra Magnus. This new 'servo' never worked good. At first it barely even could hold energon cube. The sadness and worry in commander's optics, as he saw his comrades leave the base without him, haunted doctor.

"..You sure you don't want me to change this?"

Ultra Magnus quickly noticed his friend's emotional change. He himself wasn't happy with his new servo, but not because of the reasons, he deduced Ratchet thought of. This damage was an eternal reminder of his failure to protect Iacon's relic. It was his punishment. Yet commender has never blamed field medic for that. The only thing lieutenant felt was gratitude.

"If it'll ease your mind."

"Knock Out!" Ratchet yelled, turning his head to the door. "Bring me some spare servo!"

"Say the magic word and I'll consider it!" The response was heard from some where to the right, behind a wall. Since the war ended Knock Out was on probation. He wasn't fully trusted at first, but now he slowly became more and more reliable. His attitude didn't change, but now he was surprisingly nicer. Probably, an environment where he wasn't threatened every second made him softer.

"Please, your highness, do your job." Ratchet replied mockingly, not making his voice any quieter. This kind of bickering was so usual that both doctors didn't even bother on taking offence.

Though there were no verbal confirmation, both bots heard KO's steps towards storage room.

"Now, please, lie down here." Ratchet pointed at operating table.

Ultra Magnus chuckled at this interaction, completing doctor's order. This kind of operation didn't require stasis, so bots kept their little conversation. Magnus wasn't a fan of long operations, as they reminded him about some terrible situations during the war, where he saw someone else being torn to pieces or was this someone himself. Yet he trusted Ratchet with his life during the war, and there was nothing that could change it now. Ratchet himself was used to more drastic view and could've done this servo replacement quickly, if only his thoughts wasn't plagued by self-loath he felt. "You are a medic!" The Autobot doctor thought, as he took former second in command's servo in his own, slowly trying to detach it. "How could you let commander be left for so long with this abomination of a servo? How dare you let Bumblebee live so long, not being able to speak clearly and just giving him false hopes on one day repairing his voice box? Why couldn't you stop him from leaving all of us that day?"

"Doctor, is there something bothering you?" Ultra Magnus' voice made Ratchet snap out of this internal tirade. Only now medic noticed that he has done little to no progress on a detachment and has missed a few of his patient's questions.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just.. Thoughts."

"What are they about?" Ultra Magnus pressed a bit harder. He could feel with his spark that something was bothering Ratchet so much, it would simply not let him be if they don't discuss it.

"They're about him." The doctor finally confessed, without looking up at his friend. They both needed no clarification of who medic was talking about. And they both felt the pain of remembering someone so close to both of them. Ultra Magnus could feel Ratchet's servo squeezing prothesis tighter as his mood became worse. "I still think of him. Every nanocycle I can't get him out of my head. I still can't believe he is one with the AllSpark now." Doctor's voice cracked in the end of the sentence. He started to slightly shake as he kept pouring his spark out. "Why couldn't he find another way? Why couldn't I stop him? Was it all even worth it, if he won't be able to see Cybertron come back to life?" As he kept going, Ratchet's words became more and more desperate. Now he couldn't stop. All the pain he kept inside was now pouring out, poorly forming into words. Optics started filling up with liquid substance, and before the old bot knew it he started tearing up. This overload with undying love and overwhelming agony consumed Ratchet whole, as he fell into his own longing.

Unexpected yet very warm weight on the shoulder brought doctor back from his delusions. Autobot medic didn't notice how his patient's servo escaped his own and now was sweetly holding him. Ratchet raised his optics at Ultra Magnus. Despite commander not saying anything yet, doctor suddenly understood so much. It almost felt like words were unnecessary. Lieutenant showed everything he desired to say, before actually doing it.

"Doctor," He started, his voice slightly quivered as he did. "He was like.. He was my brother. I loved him so much I was prepared to die for him. He loved me so much he wanted to show me how to live with family. Without you this family wouldn't exist. You showed him something he kept giving the others. Unconditional love and support you provided helped him go through uncountable amount of failures. You did your best..." This moment now fully opened Ultra Magnus. The centuries of war and loneliness were something commander lived with, which made him more distant. Yet he put it all aside for the one he cared about. "You supported him and his cause. Freedom. This was his choice to give us a freedom he never had. I know Optimus good enough to understand how much he desired to see Cybertron, no.. You.. Us obtain the peaceful life. And he'd never let himself stand in the way of this dream. There was no way we could've stop him. So maybe, the best we could do was to give him the best life we could in the surrounding circumstances. You've done this and even more. I could've never ask for a better family you gave for my brother. Thank you."

They both felt something changing. They felt the (metaphorical) weight on their shoulders being shared, thus somehow being lighter. Pain became bittersweet since now it finally made sense. Doctor and his patient could never know what Optimus prime wanted, yet this new founded certainty eased his friends' pain.

"Don't forget your own part. Bet you were the best brother Primus could ever gift Optimus." Ratchet said, slightly smiling.

Suddenly the door opened, and Knock Out entered the room. He didn't try to pretend he didn't hear other bots' dialogue. Quite contrary. The former decepticon had a badly disguised sad face, as he made his way through the med bay, holding a spare servo from storage room. Knock Out's optics were as red as always yet they weren't sadistic or angry like when he was a Decepticon. They expressed this kind of sympathy you can get only from someone who suffered something very similar to you. Red bot gave the spare limb to Ratchet, and placed his own servo on ambulance's shoulder, staying for a few seconds like this. This touch said more than any words could. But this unexpected moment of relatability and closebess ended as suddenly as it happened, and Knock Out made his way out of the med bay. The other two bots' optic followed the doctor on probation, full of surprise.

"Seems like he also lost someone dear to him." Ratchet said, still looking at the closed door.

"We all did."

"Okay, now let me finally change your servo or else we're not gonna leave this place till the next megacycle."

The newfound understanding eased doctor's mind and he did his work really quick. Yet this tenderness was plagued by the akwardness of the situation. A grumpy old doctor and a stoic by the book lieutenant, that both spent a great amount of their lifes on the fields of gruesome war, weren't used to expressing their deepest feelings or reassuring someone. So now they sat there in a complete silence, that sometimes was broken with a weak attempt at a small talk.

After the work was done, Ratchet asked "Now, who does your new servo work?"

Ultra Magnus started moving his fingers. This limb worked way better than the claw one; it definitely wasn't freezing as much for sure. The lieutenant couldn't hide his satisfactory smile.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing." Ratchet replied, returning the smile.

"Before I go, can I ask you and your assistant something?"

"Of course. Know Out, get your pistons back here."

"I'm busy, sweet cheeks. My finish's not gonna buff itself." KO's nonchalant demeanor was back to him and as strong as ever.

"For one nanoclick. And then you can buff anything you want." Ratchet rolled his optics.

Once everyone was in the med bay and done with bickering, Ultra Magnus started.

"Today we all learned something new about each other: directly or indirectly." Magnus made an accent at the last word and stared at KO for a few seconds. The former decepticon looked away for a second, as if expecting some kind of scolding or a punishment (working for Megatron didn't let him learn any different relationship with an authority), but lieutenant just continued. "I have a proposal. Let everything that happened or was said here stay in this med bay. I don't feel like sharing such sentiments with anyone."

"On it. If team prime finds out about it we'll never get out of Bulkhead hugs."

Both bots looked at the last one standing in this room since he hasn't said anything. KO looked back at them, testing their patience, and, after cheely smirking, said "Moi? Je n'ai aucune idée de quoi vous parlez."

"Thank you..?" Unsure of what was said, Magnus decided to be polite. The small confusion and timidity in younger doctor's posture didn't escape old medic's optics.

"Wasn't expecting such respect?" Ratchet decided to mock KO a bit, yet his question didn't lack a genuine curiosity.

"Well, when you've worked with people who didn't appreciate scrap you did, it's quite unusual to get such sweet treatment."

"I couldn't imagine working under Megatron or Starscream." The truck bot grimaced in disgust.

"Sometimes Starscream wasn't such a prick. Rarely." Knock Out scoffed. After a few seconds of hesitation, he dared to ask. "Is Maccadam's Old Oil House still around? If yes, want to drink some wisco together? Maybe even can get the whole Team Prime to join."

"I'll see if I have any weekends off. Wreckers are helping with rebuilding Iacon. I can't let myself rest while they work."

"I wouldn't recommend putting too much pressure on your new servo." Ambulance bot mentioned as if by chance. "And I'm sure Bulkhead and Wheeljack will appreciate this generous offer."

Magnus couldn't argue with that.

"So, what about tomorrow?" Red bot asked.

The other two agreed. Finally everyone went home, sending their friends invitations.

Out of nothing, this day became special.

"Tragedies really do bring bots close, don't they?" Ratchet thought. "Optimus, thank you for this family we've made."

#tfp #transformers #transformers prime #fanfiction #fanfic #ultra magnus #ratchet #knock out #tfp ultra magnus #tfp ratchet #tfp knockout #optiratch #maccadam

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junosmindpalace · 2 years

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I just saw the post and I'm going CRAZY!!!! 💕💕💕 This feels so accurate?! I was seriously impressed! and I loved how detailed senku thoughts and feelings towards the reader💗💗💗💗 god this was such a good job thank you!!!!!!👏👏👏👏 and honestly this is so good I want a part 2 to this but not now!! I know you have other requests to deal with so please when you're done with them and get the rest that you deserve I'd love to see a part 2 where after the war senku sees his crush is being courted and flirted with by non other than ryusui who has his eyes on them and probably won't give up any time soon😉 maybe this will force senku to finally admit his love to them???

((pls don't overwork yourself or anything just take this when your open for requests again! after a break or do whatever you want! I'm good with anything so it's your call and again thanks!! this was so good probably my favorite interpretation of senku being in love 😊))

THANK YOU for giving me an opportunity to indulge in a jealous senku concept. I'm an absolute sucker for jealousy tropes (when they arent. weird). and thank you so much for your kind words and patience!! i take special attention to writing the characters as accurately as i can because i know from experience that there are many instances where characters are soo extremely ooc and it takes away from the writing a bit. Im so glad you liked your request and i hope you enjoy this one as well!

please note that i struggled with writing the ending so pardon me if it seems rushed ;,)

wc: 2.9k

tw: none!

Constructive feedback is always welcome! I'm always looking to improve!

Senku feels humiliated by how much his illogical feelings are consuming his thoughts and controlling his behavior recently. He’s surprised that more people don’t take his insistence that romance is a burden to heart, because his romantic feelings are slowly starting to make his head spin.

Ryusui’s arrogance and overwhelming personality were already bad enough, but Senku thinks that his interest in you is far worse.

The (former?) billionaire goes from insufferable to almost intolerable as soon as Senku catches sight, or hell, even sound, of the two of you together. Ryusui constantly compliments you and makes you laugh, makes not so subtle physical contact and consults with you about everything. He frequently lavishes you with the wealth he was able to quickly reobtain in the stone world, and all the more frequently reminds you that he desires you in one way or another.

His boisterous attitude and advances onto you make Senku’s blood boil.

The battle against Tsukasa had been won for good. Tsukasa had surrendered and Hyoga, defeated; one behind bars, the other in a deep frozen sleep. Tsukasa had sustained a fatal injury from Hyoga, and his only chance of survival was to be killed and freezed in a cryogenic chamber until means to revive him were available. Despite their battles, Tsukasa was still one of Senku’s first allies, and putting him in such a vulnerable state was emotionally tough on the scientist. Throughout it all, your presence was comforting, and so was the fact that there was no threat to hurriedly prepare to fight. Senku could finally begin unraveling the petrification mystery, and his plan included making a ship to travel to multiple destinations around the globe in. It was around this time that the reality of the situation really settled into Senku’s head: there was no threat, and his heart was still racing around you.

It seemed that ever since Senku realized he was in love with you, his feelings have been growing more and more, despite him wanting the opposite to happen. He found his palms clamming up whenever he was around you, his head bowed just the slightest bit lower. He was becoming hyper aware of the way he acted toward and around you, and it embarrassed him to no end, struggling to stop himself from acting so out of character even if it was in the subtlest of ways.

Senku did a lot of reflecting during this prepping period. Tsukasa was only one out of many challenges awaiting. With Senku’s plan to travel around the world, it was only logical for him to consider the prospect of more danger lying ahead. There was much to be done and a lot more responsibility to take on, and so maybe Senku, for the sake of your safety and the mission, should just continue to keep his feelings secret.

And he was ready to commit to this decision until Ryusui’s revival.

He tried so hard to not let his logic fly out the window every time he found himself annoyed at Ryusui. At first, he refused to let himself admit he’s jealous. It’s just illogical! Why would he be jealous of anything or anyone? You two aren’t dating and you’re entitled to making friends- hell, you’re entitled to dating whoever you please! Senku doesn’t have a say in your personal affairs and certainly has no valid reason to feel jealous of your relationship with the captain. Which is why he concludes that he isn’t. The persistent annoyance must just be Ryusui himself. Senku was caught off guard by him in their first meeting.

And yet, subconsciously, he always has his eye on the two of you, straining to overhear conversations about you both. He can’t help himself. Senku continues to go about his work but he also trains himself to multitask when you’re in the vicinity. Any outsider would probably fall for Senku’s act, but his sly mentalist friend, Gen Asagiri, knows better.

A short while after Senku’s realization, Gen figured out that the scientist had finally recognized his feelings. He hasn’t been loud about it for the most part, but just because Gen has the decency of not proclaiming Senku’s romantic affection for you outwardly doesn't mean the Kingdom of Science leader was immune to his smirks and side-eyes. Gen refused to leave Senku alone about his attempts at disguising his jealousy, immediately seeing through his act and relentlessly teasing and taunting him, his words resonating with Senku’s intrusive thoughts about you and Ryusui’s relationship.

“If you don’t make a move before our charismatic Ryusui, dear Y/N may end up falling for his charm.”

Senku scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like Y/N is the kind of person to fall for someone as demanding as Ryusui.” But Gen could see the flicker of emotion cross his face. The corners of his mouth turned downward, his eyes widened in alarm, all for a brief second before he composed himself again. The idea makes him nervous, Gen could tell that much, and deep down, Senku hated himself for finding it a little nauseating.

And so it was that conversation with Gen that made Senku realize that he couldn’t deny his feelings of jealousy any longer. He did everything he could to bury his intrusive thoughts into the farthest parts of his brain, to snuff out the fire that blazed in his chest whenever he worked with you, exchanging witty comments with you, your laugh and your brilliant ideas. But no matter what, he’d find it next to impossible. His feelings for you were already illogical, and he so desperately wished that they would stop piling up on one another, especially during such a crucial time for the Kingdom of Science.

Again, he cannot help himself. He wasn’t content with simply being by your side anymore. He wanted to be by your side as something more, but seemingly, so did Ryusui.

Poor dude had a million mental battles waging in his head because who cares if he isn’t content? His desperate attempt at pushing down these illogical thoughts and feelings, his refusal to confess- it was all for the sake of the future. Being in a romantic relationship, especially with the Kingdom of Science’s unique circumstances (“unique” as in “rebuilding civilization”), wouldn’t be easy. He wouldn’t want to put strain on you or on the team’s mission.

Yet again, Senku’s illogical side would come out, but with this thought, it was disguised as logic. Maybe, just maybe, Senku’s feelings and desire to stay by your side as something more was worth a shot if he was even contemplating it. Yup, this was Senku’s logical side. That’s what Senku convinced himself of, anyway.

To Senku’s despair, Ryusui hadn’t shown any sign of backing down from you.

He’d been hoping that the captain would eventually quit his antics, that’d he get busy with his tasks as one of the crew’s leaders, so that Senku’s uncomfortable feelings would also back down and leave him to focus on more important matters. Unfortunately , Ryusui wasn’t the type of person to give up on something. If anything, the two of you had only gotten closer.

Your curiosity and passion for learning had led you to become intrigued by Ryusui, similarly to how you were interested in Senku’s science knowledge. You would peer at sprawls of maps and other gadgets over Ryusui’s shoulder and ask questions that he gladly welcomed, leaning his head toward yours as he talked to you about different locations on his map. You’d asked him about his life before the petrification, admittedly a little starstruck to be working with a former celebrity, and he’d tell you about Nanami Corp, growing up with his ambition and his desires. As upfront as Ryusui was, you had developed a good friendship with him.

You weren’t oblivious though; you could catch on to Ryusui’s flirting when it came up. Kohaku would nudge you with a smirk whenever she caught the two of you lost in conversation, as if the small act implied that the two of you were something more than friends. You’d only roll your eyes and shoo her away with a laugh, which, from Senku’s point of view, was confirmation that the two of you had mutual romantic feelings for one another.

You were confronted one night during the crew's voyage to America. A ray of moonlight reflected into the sleeping quarters through open circular windows, small waves crashing against the side of the Perseus. You had been lying on your back in a small compartment with a creaky bed, hair sprawled on your pillow and your hands crossed over your stomach. Looking up, you saw the bottom of Chrome’s bed, a duplicate of yours with the exception that it was only centimeters higher. ‘Bunking with Chrome was a mistake’, you thought to yourself. His constant shifting and snores made it difficult for you to drift off to sleep yourself, and so you had settled with trying to focus your attention on the soothing rocking of the Perseus against the water.

As you slowly started feeling yourself relax and letting your consciousness drift off for the night, a gentle knocking was heard beside you, forcing your eyes open. At the noise, Chrome murmured and once again turned, the bed creaking with his movement. You sighed and opened your eyes, slowly turning toward the sound. The remains of sleep slowly faded as your eyes met Senku’s.

“Senku? Why are you awake…?”

He was leaning against the side of the wall closest to your lower bunker, alarmed red irises eyeing you up and down and shoulders raised to his ears. He must have moved out of bed and across the room when you had briefly dozed off. He let out a deep exhale and stuck his pinky finger in his ear. “Follow me, okay?”

You blinked. Senku retrieving you in the dead of night while the rest of the crew was asleep was unusual, even for him. He would surely be alerting the ship if there was some sort of impending danger- his voice definitely wouldn’t be so low and airy- so you ruled it out as a possibility. He didn’t look scared, just tense, and you couldn’t figure out why. But you trusted him, and so all you replied with was, “okay”.

You rubbed your eyes as the two of you ascended up the stairs, Senku reminding you to keep a hand on the rail as he led you onto the docks. The late breeze made yours and Senku’s hair and clothing ripple through the air, but you shivered in satisfaction at the refresher. The sleeping quarters were stuffy and cramped, and it felt nice indulging in the coolness of the night.

Senku didn’t intentionally pick this specific night to talk to you about his feelings, but even he could appreciate the peaceful and slightly romantic atmosphere. The docks were bathed in the full moon’s soft glow, illuminating your figures as if mimicking a stage light. The air was cool against his skin, blowing the hair out of your faces so as to properly gaze at the sparkling sea and into each other's faces. There was no bustling activity, no orders to be given, no plans to continue formulating. It was just the two of you, the twinkling stars above and the quiet splashing of water. This was it.

After a couple moments of the two of you simply staring ahead, your scientist friend sighed and turned toward you. “So, I may as well make this to the point. You better be awake because I don’t want to repeat myself.” You looked puzzlingly at Senku, who stared at you with a small frown. He looked uncomfortable, and as if he were biting back something important. You searched each other's eyes before Senku suddenly closed his, bringing a hand to his face. “Heh, heh, heh…I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Huh? Doing what?”

He looked up at you and straightened his back, letting his hand fall down to his belt. “I’ve developed romantic feelings for you, Y/N.”

The previous silence fell between the two of you again. You stared at Senku with wide eyes and your mouth half open in shock, your tired brain slowly processing his words. He said it so casually that if you weren’t intrigued by his mysterious invitation, you would’ve missed it. Senku stiffened under your dumbfounded gaze and teared his eyes away from yours. “I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter what, my troublesome feelings pose an inconvenience. I could’ve kept my mouth shut, like I was planning to do, but if I let Ryusui continue with his antics, I might develop some sort of harsh feelings toward the two of you, hindering our abilities to work together.”

Ryusui? Ryusui’s antics? You reflected briefly before your eyes widened in knowing. Senku must’ve caught on to Ryusui’s flirting just as you had. Did that mean,-you could hardly wrap your head around the thought- that Senku was jealous of him?

“But my feelings are already a distraction for me, and a burden onto you. I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t find the words, so you couldn’t help but continue silently staring at him. You were convinced that this unbelievable night was a weird dream, hardly believing that Senku Ishigami was admitting to having feelings for you.

“I’m…hoping that by telling you, it’ll get rid of these feelings so I can focus on more important things.”

“Why do you want to be rid of your feelings?”

Senku looked caught off guard. It was the first time you had spoken after his confession. “Like I said, they’re a distraction. I can’t focus with them nagging at me. I’m hoping that by confessing, my feelings will go away with the stress of having to keep them to myself lifted off my chest, and I can focus on the mission. I don’t have to be jealous of you and Ryusui, and can leave the two of you alone.”

That’s right. His feelings will go away and you and Ryusui would be able to pursue your romantic interests in one another without his jealousy nagging at him. Ryusui was a great fit for you- more physically fit than he, and no idiot either. It would all work out.

“Do you think I…have feelings for Ryusui?” Something about the tremble in your voice irritated him. You looked to be biting back a laugh, as if the question were absurd to even be asking. He was already embarrassed enough by your earlier dumbfounded gaze, but something about you finding him amusing was somehow worse. “Don’t you?”

You could help but laugh at his deadpan expression and tone, but you quickly composed yourself when he gave you a pointed look. “I don’t have any feelings for Ryusui. He’s intriguing, definitely. Smart, funny, and not bad looking. But, to quote the two of you, I don’t desire him romantically one millimeter.”

It wasn’t all that evident on his face, but Senku truly was surprised. From how much time you spent together (and how physically close the two of you could get), he was sure that the two of you had something going on. It wouldn’t be his first time falsely predicting someone’s intentions, though.

“So um…you really want to get rid of your feelings? No exceptions?”

At this question, Senku was visibly surprised. “Exceptions such as?”

“Me liking you back?”

His eyes widened and he searched your face for any trace of it being hypothetical. Of course he considered the possibility of you reciprocating his feelings, but he found it unlikely. He expected rejection, maybe some anger and disgust, but instead you were hinting at the fact that-

“You have feelings for me?”

“Yeah.”

A little into the afternoon the following day, Senku invited Ryusui to talk privately on the docks. He felt that he owed the captain an explanation, with him attempting to pursue you and all. He revealed to Ryusui what he revealed to you that night and what the two of you discussed.

Senku’s plan was to confess with the intention of getting rid of his romantic feelings entirely, not just his jealousy. But when he found out that you reciprocated his feelings and wanted to try becoming something more than friends, his perspective on the matter shifted. Romance was never something that either of you were very experienced in or knowledgeable about. Sure, Senku could tell you the technicalities of it, but he never found himself longing for a romantic partner until his feelings of jealousy provoked him to think about his relationship with you. Senku’s fears still stood, but he wanted to cave into his illogical side, even if it meant taking some risks. So, the two of you came to an agreement that you wouldn’t officially label yourselves, but let see where your feelings and the journey ahead took the two of you.

The entire time, Ryusui listened with drawn brows. When Senku finished, Ryusui could only look downward. The lines on his forehead creased together and he smiled a sad sort of smile, an almost knowing smile. After some silence, he spoke. “Above all, I desire Y/N’s happiness, and so if you can give them that, then that’s enough for me.”

Senku mimicked his expression, keeping his eyes fixed on Ryusui. He straightened a bit when his friend finally met his eyes again. “I never want to see them frowning, you got that, Senku?”

Senku chuckled. “Loud and clear.”

#dr stone oneshot #dr stone x reader #dr stone headcanons #dr stone hcs #dr stone fanfiction #senku headcanons #senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami oneshot #senku x reader #senku x you #dr stone senku #dr stone #dr stone drabbles #senku ishigami headcanons

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beatrixacs · 2 days

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My final thoughts on Shogun

Overall rating: 9/10.

The show has its ups and downs - the downs mainly being the way they handled the romance in the show that could have been much better and much more impactful for a casual viewer, and the ups everything else.

I have never read the book - actually, I'm reading a copy I was lent by my colleague right now - but I have seen the 80s version many, many years ago and fell in love with it. By 'fell in love' I mean that I was up to 4:30 AM on Saturday because for some reason, the airing time was in the middle of the night.

I've always wanted to read the book (in my native language which is not English) but it was one of those that is rarely re-printed or found in second-hand bookshops. When they finally re-printed it in 2009, I preferred a different book with the money I could afford to spend, thinking that I would buy Shogun later when I save enough money.

Well, it was a mistake I regretted for long 15 years because the copies were quickly sold out and begging for re-print went unheard. It has a good ending, though. I can buy a new brand copy in May.

And I have FX Shogun to thank for that because they revived the interest.

When the news about the show broke out in 2018, I was excited but of course that my second thought was 'please, don't suck'. But then it seemed that the project was called off or something because I heard no news about it. You can imagine by happiness when the airing date was finally announced.

From the cast and photos to the trailers, podcasts, making of videos and the episodes themselves, the whole ride was amazing. The attention to detail was exceptional. The cast was superb. The whole feel of the show and the story was magnetic. Shogun Tuesdays rightfully became a concept people were looking forward to.

As I described above, I can't really comment on the changes as opposed to the book since I'm in the process of reading it for the first time but from my understanding, some of the changes were actually pretty good some of them less.

While I am the fan of "don't take too much liberties with the source material", one has to keep in mind that the source material might not be always as perfect or as easy to translate on the screen. That is why I am open to changes if they make sense. Since I haven't seen much outrage from the book fans (aside the romance), I suppose most of the changes were okay. At this point, I expect the book to give me better insight on the characters I saw on the screen because that is something only book can do.

As for the 80s show that has a special place in my heart, I actually want to avoid comparing them. You can feel that FX Shogun has a great respect for the legendary adaptation but they were bold enough to go their own way in some points and I'm glad for that. I don't want to watch a modern copy of something that has been already filmed, I want to watch a new, fresh adaptation of the book that shares some similarities but it's not the same.

Boths adaptations deserve praise. Both adapations are excellent in their own right. Those who haven't seen it yet, I say - do it.

All in all, I want to thank FX for bringing Shogun back on the screen (and on my bookshelf) and giving us one of the best series of 2024. I hope gets a lot of awards so the creators get the appreciation they deserve.

Arigato gozaimasu.

#shogun #shogun fx #fx shogun #2024 shogun #shogun 2024 #personal #my opinion

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somany-fandoms-solittle-time · 7 months

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“What’s so Special About the Moon?”

Jamil Viper x MC(insert character Mac)

(Ch. 1) – Ch. 2 – Ch. 3 – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous

This was originally supposed to be, like, a single chapter hurt/comfort before my OC (Mac) and Jamil as a song fic where they berate him and then sing a song referencing the moon… but then I had feelings and it’s becoming a more in depth character study between the two. Don’t worry! By the end of this mini series, there will be song lyrics and more sappiness… it’s just now that I’ve finished both Book 4 and Book 5, I need to reorganize the events and specific and whatnot. Some quick housekeeping as always: I tried to make Jamil to encompass both his dark & mysterious villain persona ALONG WITH him practically being a fucking child so that’s why I wrote him like *this* so yeah… I’m moving around the timeline so that Yuu/MC (aka Mac) has the weekend to GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER LOL, Mac is about 19-20 (haven’t decided yet) and uses mixed pronouns as a heads up, Ch. 2 has a 1st draft written put still needs to be typed up and edited. If you see a typo NO YOU DIDN’T!!! This one of my first times trying a different writing doc that isn’t Google (cuz fuck Google) and it’s a little weird to get used to and edit stuff. It’s beta-d in the sense that licking the spatula while your mom bakes cookies and claiming that you helped… literally only a few paragraphs were checked over y’all.

Quick shout-out to @krenenbaker and @twst-beam for inspiring my writing thus far (and sorry for taking so long to post this lol!)

I’ll be releasing some type of overview of my OC eventually, but take these snippets as they go while I fall back in love with writing. You’ll meet Mac in full when xey are good and ready… anyway, please enjoy Chapter 1 of my new fanfiction, “What’s So Special About the Moon?”

“Here. You can use this one,” Jamil directed towards the plain (compared to the rest of the dorm) laundry… mat? There were several industrial sized washer and dryers, a couple moderate-sized one’s that would fit a regular apartment complex, and a long wall designated area for hand washed items. Jamil was keeping the door prompt open with his hips; his slight frown of concentration and the flick of his Magic Pen were the only signs of the current spell he had going. Turning around, MC was slightly surprised by the massive piles of fabric that was being corralled in via multiple a massive sheet tied to multiple brooms. They still couldn’t fully grasp the concept (and power) of magic and seeing it so casually performed on a day-to-day basis was kinda daunting.

“Thanks again for letting us use the space along with showing me how to properly clean all these fancy duds and whatnot.” the Ramshackle Perfect awkwardly trailed off. Their focus was split between stealing peaks at the Scarabia Vice Warden, not wanting to bother the already busy Sophomore, and surveying over the dusty, damaged antique pieces the two stripped from the halls of the previously abandoned dorm. Rugs, carpets, curtains, furniture covers (in varying state of disrepair) dulled of their once rich and vibrant color. The patterns were a mix of stuffy academia and the quiet comfort of a grandparents cottage living room. Both extravagant, yet understated. It’s a style lost to time, but not quite a revived ancient aesthetic.

At this point MC was fully lost in thought; they desperately needed to clean, fix, organize and decorate the dorm in preparation to host so many guests. Even with his limited memories, they had a feeling they’d never hear the end of it from his parents.

“Don’t worry about it much.” Jamil said, interrupting their musings. “Honestly, I’m doing this as much for myself as I am helping you.

With a flick of his wrist, Jamil organized the seemingly random crumbled piles of fabric by condition, color and use. His movements while cleaning were quick, smart, and efficient-- all while patiently showing Mac which order to start in along with the best way to clean them.

“Ya’ know…” MC broke the relative quietness between the two workers, “Even with everything thing that happened over break, I understand why Kalim still trusts you; I almost can believe that you’re not that bad of a guy.” Jamil gave xem a startled (and exasperated) look, but they continued before he could respond: “I fail to see how helping the person who ruined your ‘world domination’ plans—”

“They were hardly World Domination level!” He quickly snapped. His embarrassment led to him tugging his hood further down his face, teeth slightly clenched, and dilated eyes as MC continued listing all the ways he’s “helped” them out.

The magic-less Perfect laughed to themselves the more conflicting emotions flew across Jamil’s face. Eventually those same emotions were compressed behind a cold, smooth mask. Limestone slabs and stiff mud brick walls were swiftly constructed between the two working-class students. Something about it didn’t sit right with Mac.

“Hey I’m not saying what you pulled wasn’t a dick move! But you’re also not the first overly-traumatized teen boy I’ve had to deal with… and between what you’ve said about yourself, plus thing’s I’ve heard and seen, I’m starting to think you’re not nearly as complicated as you think you are.” The longer they argued *to* him, the more Jamil’s mask began to crack; there were a few holes in his walls he didn’t account for. Xe’s a tad more observant than I remember, but weirdly just as persistent, Jamil internally rolled his eyes.

“I could still change my mind and send you back to deal with the Pomefiore Wrath(tm),” He mumbled while gracefully lugging the newly cleaned (and damp) furniture coverings into an empty drier. Despite his harsh threat, MC still remembered him assuring the other this laundry room was only ever used by him after Kalim’s parties.

The large machines and larger working space was specifically added for the servant to clean and repair any decor or Asim Family Treasures when Kalim’s recklessness caused a larger mess than usual. This meant that Mac and Grim (who was originally supposed to be helping… where the hell was he anyway?) could do as many loads needed without worry. On top of the borrowed space, the Housewarden himself had cheerily has assured them, his Oasis Maker would replace all the water used ten times over!

Mac’s thoughts were interrupted once again as Jamil relented, “I told you, I’m doing this to help me.” After receiving an unconvinced eyebrow raise, Jamil began to explain, “Kalim might’ve announced us as equals but I still have a job to do. If he got sick while spending Allah knows how long in a dusty, dirty, shabby condemned building like Ramshackle I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“It’s not nearly that bad anymore!” the sole-human resident of said dorm argued, but was quickly shut up with a tired gesture towards the untouched loads of laundry left to be done.

“On top of that,” Jamil smirked “Even a common peasant like myself wouldn’t sleep in a rundown garbage heap if I can help it.” His smirk slowly slide off his face from his face as the insulted Perfect almost ripped the handful of soapy doilies, that they were previously scrubbing by hand, as xey prepared a retaliation.

“OK, first of all! This whole Inferior-Superior shtick isn’t going to prove your point. If I’m being totally honest, I’m pretty used to the bratty, arrogant attitude of teenagers by now (even if I wasn’t Leona is a thousand times worse).” They turned their full body to face the 2nd year boy before continuing the assault. “Secondly, even just doing the bare minimum would’ve been fine, considering I’ve slowly been deep cleaning them place room by room. This is just last minute cleaning considering I wasn’t expected to host six extra people in two days.”

The shock of Mac’s care and attention to detail couldn’t win over Jamil’s newfound freedom to be right… and sassy while doing it. “Keep in mind you wouldn’t be the only one having to deal with Vil. His expectations are much higher than my personal standards—”

“Getting there!” MC interrupted again. “It’s not like Vil and whoever else couldn’t magic things better or get things done over at Pomefiore.” However, their fire started to die down with their obvious lack of understanding of magic. Not that Xeir level of intellect ever stopped them from talking out of their ass during debates… even if this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be anything like Debate Club back home.

“Not the point!” Mac built back their steam after thoughtlessly shaking off any internal distractions. “Third of all,” Jamil groaned not-so-quietly, “third of all, you didn’t have to show me how to do it. Nor did you have to continue helping me. There’s only so much I could pay you back in favors and it’s not like you’ll make back the time and energy spent. You’re obviously a bit of a piece of shit but I don’t totally blame…”

Jamil suddenly gave Mac his full attention. He smoothed any emotional tells from his face and readied himself to actively dissect what ever left xeir mouth and any messages in between the lines. The silence prompted Mac to drip extra sincerity as they begin to ramble without thinking.

“… I get why you did what you did. You’re not totally forgiven, but it’s not like I’ll hold a grudge over you forever. Whenever I joke about Winter Break I thought you knew it was just that: a joke.”

The two stared at one another for a few beats. Jamil betrayed nothing that he was thinking, but Mac could practically feel the exasperation flooding off of him in great waves. The disbelief pushing and pulling off of him, despite remaining stone cold to zeir admission. So, of course, they continued with slight for fever:

“Yeah, okay, you held us all prisoner, enslaved via hypnosis your entire dorm, and nearly killed multiple students. Twice.” Mac cringed at their own blunt statement, “… But why would you go as far as you did, if you didn’t care! What your parents, and more specifically your culture, put you through wasn’t fair—but you obviously still love and cherish them!”

At this, he seemed to get even more guarded. It felt patronizing to be hold how he supposedly felt or why he should feel a specific way. They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t grown up as a Viper in the Desert, constantly reminded by Kalim’s Mirage of wealth what he could never have. They didn’t know the FIRST thing about the Scalding Sands—!

“… How do you know anything about my parents? Did Kalim--?!” He choked out infuriated at the mere implication.

“Relax Viper! It’s all in the Secret of The Ooze™”

“What?”

“Never mind…”

The usual absurdity of MC’s references (much to xeir chagrin that no one seemed to understand them) Jamil allowed himself a shadow of a smirk. Right about now they’d drop what they were saying and instead empathize with him over terrible bosses. They’d both fall back into a familiar pattern of quiet understanding while making playful small talk; maybe Xe’d make a remark over how “hellish” the desert temperature is and moan about being “a poor Northern forced into the sun” before dragging them both off to grab an abominably sweet drink that Kalim would still put sugar in. Xe had always been could at mediating with the other students at NCR.

However, they didn’t drop it. They continued to push him… especially when they realized that he expected the conversation to have ended and started to relax. Xey pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally, they had circled back to him rebelling from his status.

“What? You think I’d be Happier staying a lowly servant?! I’d rather cut my own tongue out than remain bending to Kalim’s will for the rest of my days.” He huffed, still not stopping his assault on the pile of laundry in front of him.

A frustrated sigh left Mac as Xey tried to get their point across, “THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M SAYING!… Obviously, you don’t love being forced into child labor or having to pretend to be something you’re not, but that doesn’t mean you’re totally being honest with yourself either. Rebelling adolescents often do a complete 180 of who they once presented as in an extreme action to feel validated.”

Jamil scoffed in indignation at the impromptu therapy session he’d been forced into.

“Just because you were forced to lie sometimes as ‘Servant Jamil’ doesn’t mean those memories or feelings weren’t authentic!”

“My Childhood, my Pride, my ENTIRE LIFE was stolen from me before I could even open my eyes, Mac! Who could cherish that sort of future?”

“I’m not disputing that! I’m not trying, in any way, to imply that what you went through didn’t fucking suck. But just because you’ve started saying the quiet part out loud doesn’t mean you’re being totally honest either. Switching one mask for another just means nothing has changed but your ability to bitch about-it to the kid you literally Grew Up With, Jamil.” A tired resignation was growing in their eyes as they headed to the end of xeir rant.

It was clear MC was starting to speak in circles and xey weren’t going to be able to get through to them. A heavy weight sunk deep in their chest, slowly sliding to xeir stomach the more he misunderstood the magic-less student. I saw him drown in the depths of his own helplessness and self-pity, but even after he’s been pulled out it’s like he can’t help but dive back in for a swim. It was a suffocating thought while Mac watched as Jamil once again went stone-faced… Like what he was about to say would be his final shield before walking away. It’s a shame that the Ramshackle Resident had become too used to throwing bombs over walls and blowing verbal shields to smithereens after months of being stuck in Twisted Wonderland.

“I’m not sugarcoating or bowing down to anyone anymore. I won’t bite my tongue. I won’t put on a Happy Face to Kalim’s idiotic, half-thought out ideas again. I’m slowly gaining my freedom, something you clearly don’t understand. Just because you’re as blind as he is doesn’t mean anything! What more could you want from me?!” He hissed his final insult before finally stepping away from his station. Not leaving the room, he aggressively got himself a cup of water from one of the sink and gulped the unfiltered water down.

“Just because you’re not hiding your bitter, knee-jerk reaction from an unfair world doesn’t mean you aren’t still hiding away and lying about your more vulnerable emotions.” Mac whispered in an emotionless tone. “Cutting a part of your past off and pretending it was never there is doing yourself a disservice and lying to those that still care about you… And there sure-as-shit isn’t much that I hate more than a Fucking Liar.”

. . . . . .

The lacy doilies sat in a sudsy basin, left forgotten as the two students stood a mere paces from each other—both maintaining an uncomfortably intense eye contact. The sloshing thump of the washers and stirring hum of driers harmonizing were the only song to accompany the two’s stare down. A short hiccup as Mac took a drawn out breath was the only reaction between the two of them. The combined heat of Scarabia’s sun (barely past 10am) and the humidity of continued use of machinery didn’t help the suffocating air in the wide laundry room. Not to mention the loud, stifling silence to boot.

MC usually held back such honest commentary (not that they weren’t blunt) unless Xe deemed it necessary: think high stakes and a sense of urgent drama. But something about Jamil and Kalim’s situation reminded them of himself. The two’s intertwined dance of class, history, loyalty and betrayal, friendship and loss, and such overwhelming guilt reminded the dimension hoping stranger of home. Whatever that meant.

But this was no time to get lost in their own problems and Trauma’s. They’d went too far (again) and that means xey should be the bigger person (again) and deescalate the situation before he hated them (AGAIN). Which means, MC would be the one to break the silence and run away again.

“Ya’ know what? Grim’s probably burned the school down already. Don’t worry about,” Ze gestured blindly to the numerous stations they’d started, “this mess. I’ll rope my little Rat Gremlin and the Freshies into finishing this up. Hell, I could probably convince Rugs to pitch in for lunch or something. Bully the Music Club with helping in exchange of random sheet music I still remember from home.”

Their rambles became more spastic as they noticed Mr. Sugar, Spice and Not-So-Nice break out of his own trance and try to reply. “Seriously! Just enjoy the break… Not that it’s my place or responsibility to be butting in anyway. I will be back in, like, 10 minutes and from here-on-out minding my own damn business. Sorry. Whatever. See you sometime after Sunday, I guess?” Their entire monoluge Mac was slowly backing out of the room before turning around in xeir spot and just short of sprinting their way out of the dorm. A few passerby Scarabia students stopped to eavesdrop on xeir muttering… watch them leave.

Without getting a word in Jamil stood unmoving, watching the Ramshackle Perfect leave swifter than the desert wind shifting the dunes. Almost on auto-pilot, he simply left to go back to his room and do as he was told; enjoy his break. His day off. The day he could do what he liked and didn’t necessarily have to prioritize work. A day he spent working to help and assist the pitiful, magic-less loser that was dropped-kicked into another reality and forced to play nice with a University filled with overpowered and hormonal teenagers while having no way home… And in return was insulted, psychoanalyzed, and thrown aside before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Son of a STREET RAT!!!!!” It was clear he’d need a few hours to calm down before he could even think of trying to enjoy the rest of his Saturday off.

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mbti-notes · 3 months

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Anon wrote: Hey, i hope your doing okay. I’d like some advices on friendship. I know a girl, an ISTP whom i (ENFJ) met like almost 10 years ago. We were really close, she was my bestfriend and it lasted until some months, or even more like a year ? Until i felt she kinda replaced me with somebody else.

At first i thought i was just tripping, but tired of the constant overthinking i ended askip here if we were drifting apart, and she said no nothing changed on her side. So i was like okay, yet i didn’t feel completely relieved because i just had this impression that something was off. Like we didn’t talk as much as before, and she wasn’t calling me directly or privately her bestfriend anymore.

After a long, long, while of just bottling up my worries, after a day when i went to her home and we had a really good time, as she send me a message to thank me for the day and reaffirm how she considered me, i decided to tell her how i feel. I told her honestly that i was scared that she had replaced me with two of my friends but today, because i wasn’t over analyzing et overthinking i just realized it was all in my mind.

She then told me that she did not replaced me, but that there was no hierarchy between them and me we were just all on the same level but we had different relationships with her. And at the moment i was like okay i get it you right bestfriends aren’t that important etc etc ; but few days later i realized that it wasn’t the case at all. I felt bad. Really bad. Cause i never thought that would happen. It may be childish from me, i agree. I who always wished i could find a bestfriend, that one person with whom i could have that relationship, i just felt like all of our promises were merely words. I went through so much, so so much with that person, every ups and downs she was there, with me, and i was there, with her.

I’m not mad at her, cause she has every right to have the vision of friendship. And i can’t force her to change or so. But i’m hurt to see her saying things, doing things, that i thought were only between us. It’s like a cold shower everytime i witness it. And i try to reassure myself and to be okay with it but it’s so hard. Even though she told me she did not replaced me, that she saw me a little sister, that i had a special spot, no matter how hard i try i just can’t trust it. And i keep everything for me because i don’t even know what can I say.

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NFs are idealists at heart and it can take them to great places. However, idealism can become a problem when the gap between reality and expectation grows too large. It sounds like you have really high standards and expectations for this relationship, or perhaps for relationships in general. This can be a problem because it makes you too inflexible and perhaps too demanding of people. I wouldn't call you "childish" because such harsh self-criticism is unhelpful. I think it's more factual to say that your idea of relationships is too simple.

As a general rule, simple relationships tend to be superficial relationships. The deeper you want the relationship to be, the more complicated the relationship gets, because there are many more factors involved for it to be successful. It seems you are having difficulty accepting complexity and adapting to it. An important part of growing up is learning how to handle complexity, which should coincide with auxiliary development in ENFJs. You need to work on Ni development, otherwise, this problem of having unreasonable expectations due to oversimplified thinking is likely to become an unhealthy pattern in your relationships.

1) Refusing to accept facts is a big reason why people suffer needlessly in life. Gracious acceptance is the best way to handle the facts of life. Change is a fact of life. People change over time, which means relationships change over time. Some relationships ebb and flow in closeness over many years. Some relationships have a natural expiry date. Some relationships can be revived, while others can't. Some relationships are meant to stay superficial, while others can be made deeper with appropriate effort.

You are dwelling in the past, lost in what the relationship used to be or what you thought it was. What does this indicate about your expectations? You expect people to always be the same as they were or as you remember them. Is that a reasonable expectation? No, because you're denying the fact that change is inevitable in life.

You can acknowledge that change is sad, and it's healthy to grieve and mourn the loss of something lovely that has passed... but don't stubbornly keep insisting that something hasn't or shouldn't have changed when it already has, or else you will suffer. Once you can accept the facts of what the relationship is today, your expectations will be based in reality, and you'll be in a better position to adapt well to the change.

2) One factor that significantly affects the success or failure of relationships is compatibility. When two people approach the relationship with very different beliefs and values, they have to work a lot harder for the relationship to succeed. In this case, you two have very different ideas about friendship. Your concept of friendship looks like concentric circles; the more intimate the friend, the closer they are to the inner circle in the middle. Your friend's concept of friendship looks more like a straight line, where everybody is considered equal yet unique.

You're right to say that neither of you is wrong. It is merely a matter of preference, but the difference between you does decrease your compatibility. When this kind of conflict occurs in a relationship, you have a decision to make: Do you compromise or do you stand by your own preference? There is no right/wrong answer; there is only what you can live with in the end. The ideas/ideals/beliefs/values that you consider to be sacred shouldn't be compromised if it requires compromising your integrity, but some can and should be adjusted or changed when they're revealed to be unreasonable or unrealistic.

In this situation, you have to ask yourself whether you're willing to accept your friend's "straight line" idea of friendship. Yes or no? Either way, you're going to have to change and adapt. Can you accept being treated as equal to every other friend she has? If so, continue enjoying her company without worrying about anyone else, since the relationship between you two has no relation to the others. If you simply can't accept it, either because it's too painful or it goes against something you hold sacred, it's nobody's fault, but you'll have to reclassify her status in your circles of friendship and then change your expectations and behavior accordingly.

#enfj #enfj relationships #friendship #expectations #compatibility #adaptability #ask

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