#he does too

[cuddlepoetry]

I think it’s actually true that when you spend too much time with someone, you start becoming like them — because ever since Jannik said he’d change something (after losing to Carlos), he’s literally started to resemble him.

He’s started talking to his box, letting go more, even getting angry on court and showing it — and that is clearly the influence of my favorite Spaniard. Give it a little more time and you’ll hear Jannik shouting ‘VAMOOOS’ too

[dsafscannibalsau]

Hey Dave…

If he won’t eat the meat under normal circumstances maybe try getting him to take something that’ll make it hard to think right? Might need to hide it though, so he doesn’t see it at first at least.

”Huh? Whatdya mean-“

“…”

“I see.”

“Dave. What is that look for.”

“Sportsy, are you Mayhaps… 𝒢𝒶𝓎?”

“…yo what the fuck.”

[fleshdeliveryboy]

Someone get this man a single brown contact

[heywoodvirgin]

Job details

Street kids era

[perplexedjokist]

feel like the x-men buy sparkling grape juice for the students that can't drink and when it's almost gone they give it to logan because he likes drinking it like beer, literally no reason why or explanation I just feel it in my bones

[incorrect-finding-frankie]

When Lucky ends up in the other little world, Other Frankie just looks like how he typically does in-game.

From the moment Lucky gets there, they do feel as if something is wrong—but with all of the other stuff going on with the others, they don’t care.

It doesn’t help that something is pulling Lucky towards it, and they can’t really resist that.

[lured-into-wonderland]

[ jiyan ] A natural-born leader, that’s how many would describe the young general of the Midnight Rangers. Before countless rangers in a battlefield, before the captains in a meeting, before the people when he returned to Jinzhou, Jiyan doesn’t stutter when he talks, doesn’t feel a hint of nervousness. The words come naturally to him, not because he has practiced multiple speeches, but because he speaks from the heart. He doesn’t have trouble expressing his thoughts or, at least, that was what he thought until he met her.

As if the world slows down, and he’s unable to coordinate his thoughts and sentences… When there’s so much to say that it all tangles and gets stuck in his throat. That’s how it feels at times. At times, because most of the time talking to Nunnally feels natural in a way he’s not used to, like he could forget how quickly times passes and all that matters is that moment in which they exist in the same place and time. But, does he dislike it? No, even though he understands why or how, he doesn’t exactly ‘dislike’ being at a loss for words.

Like right now, picking Nunnally up from her hotel room for the event they’ve been practicing for.

He knows he’s supposed to say something, make a polite comment about her dress, her looks, anything. But his throat feels dry, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say when he has everything to say and no words quite capture the tempest in his chest nor how radiant she is, how his world stops for her. Jiyan opens his mouth, but no words leave. Something flutters in his chest, and he feels no different from a boy asking their crush for a date for the first time. “Nunnally,” But what he's unable to say with words, he says it with the way his golden eyes brighten, the way his expression softens, the way he gently reaches out and takes her hand in his. “Today is the day." And the way his every action and thought screams of the word he has refused to acknowledge until now. "Are you ready?”

Nunnally doesn’t know how many times she has looked at herself in the mirror. Even the maid seemed surprised. Three dresses, at least, and several sets of jewelry; she has tried them all. Yes, the occasion is important, but only she knows it isn’t really about the occasion. She has been to plenty of such events before; it’s nothing new for her. She knows how to address guests with ease, how to offer compliments that feel genuine, how to make others feel seen and comfortable around her. Of course, the place is different, and her role tonight is unusual, too. Nunnally is a guest, and not the host. But that, she tells herself, should be even easier. She knows it is easier. And yet...

And yet, even if she tries to believe it’s the occasion, the role, and the setting, she knows the truth: it’s the young General of the Midnight Rangers she is worried about. She wants him to like her (or rather she knows he does!), but perhaps, what Nunnally really wants is for him to like how she looks tonight. Because tonight matters only insofar as she will spend it with him. And she will dance with him. And others will watch. Their hands together, his hand on her back, their faces so close, their lips could almost meet…

It will be intimate! But this kind of closeness is permitted, encouraged even. Oh!; how excited she is! She hasn’t seen him for some time, and she has run out of excuses to make their meetings necessary (but they are necessary even without a reason!) Not that she believes he has been avoiding her. She understands his world better now; though she still finds it unfair. His duty keeps him from her (and always will). Nunnally would rather keep him safe (she can’t). And still, it is duty, his and hers, that stands between them, if only for a while (she hopes).

Oh no!; she is not in love (she is; she is simply too frightened to name it). But if not love, then what? Who is he to her? Nunnally doesn’t know. She has no words for what Jiyan has come to mean.

Her blue eyes fix on her reflection. Suddenly, she doesn’t like what she sees. The girl in the mirror feels too far removed from the one she used to be with him. From the one, who stood with him, looking over the landscapes he loved, the one he once carried down a hillside. Now she looks too richly dressed, too carefully adorned, as if for the approval of others, not for herself (or for him).

She tries to fix it; to her maid’s dismay. She doesn’t need diamonds to feel beautiful; she’d rather wear something simple, like the flowers he once showed her. She blushes at the memory, and she sees her own blush in the mirror. But then, seeing it, she realizes: yes!, she looks better now. More like herself. More like what she hopes he likes. But what does he truly like? She feels weak, helpless, not nearly independent enough. Why does she even bother to think, to hope…

And still the blush lingers. She cannot stop thinking about it. What if it gives her away? Not just the blush, but the dance itself. The closeness, the faces, the lips, the eyes, the touches: all suddenly seem dangerous. They could tell a story to those who shouldn’t know. That she and the General --!!

No. It’s not Jiyan. It’s just her. What if her feelings (what feelings!?) will be written too clearly on her face, in her movements, in her gestures, in the way she looks at him (they are)? What if everyone understands (they can’t!)? She doesn’t want to go anymore. She can’t. She needs to run. But where? It’s too late.

He’s already there. He says nothing at first. Why? Her heart flutters; a hundred and one thoughts race through her mind.

( “Nunnally.” ) he says. And she is calm again. ( “Are you ready?” ); he asks, and she is certain again. He takes her hand, and everything becomes easy. She is sure. She is ready. She no longer cares who sees. She almost wants them to see. To understand.

“I am.” – only two words, but they are a vow to him. Whether she realizes it or not (she does, though).

“Shall we?”

@caemthe

[isthistheendforus]

he thinks I don't have a life. I do have a life, I just put it on pause for him<3