#/I didn't know if this was ooc or not but here lol

[storfulsten]

The way you draw bf is so cute and i love it, can i give him a lil kiss on the forehead

aw thanks, I'm glad you like the way I doodle him and such ha

as for the lil kiss on the forehead...

don't think whitty'd like that very much sorry lol

[caointeag]

Send a 👀 and I will describe how my muse sees yours / what they think of when they look at them.

Maron. When they first met he terrified her. He was nothing like Theon, he was a true Ironborn, the kind that stalked the nightmares of the western coast — and herself. He smells of sea and salt. His eyes are a clear ocean blue, and he is as treacherous as the waters he sails. Like some living avatar of their drowned god. Terrible and pure evil. Only marginally better than the stories of his uncle Euron but not from lack of trying, only for lack of opportunity. She loathed the reminder of the ocean, her one embarrassing phobia, because what business does someone who lives in a landlocked place being so scared of open waters and the people mad enough to love them? She would rather put them all to the sword and be done with it. But the ironborn have ships and the North has none. They both want independence and to get that concessions will need to be made and deals made with demons.

Frequent exposure forces one to cope, to learn and experience and shift. To survive one has to understand one's enemies, one's fears. Maron is not a god. Not a supernatural force or her nightmares made flesh. He's a man. An intelligent, infuriating man. He is dangerous yes, but he is not gleefully cruel. He can be reasoned with. He has loved ones and foods he doesn't like. He's no different than her sworn sword Yrre. Simply a violent man with a good mind. If anyone had told her she'd be on an ironborn ship she would've assumed it would've been as the spoils of a raid — perhaps in some ways that's still true. But as it is she's spent more time with them in their own world than probably any other northman has outside of being chained up in a ship's hold and she has begun to see the reality behind Old Nan's stories.

He is like Father and Jory and Ser Rodrick and Robb and Jon and every other proud northmen she knows. It should not shock her so much, go far enough back and the northmen and the ironborn share a common cultural ancestry as first men, but it does. And now she cannot unsee it, in him, in his crew. They are like us. He proud and strong and steeped in the ways of his people that so many others scorn. She thinks of Cersei in the wheelhouse making not so subtle jabs at the headscarf her mother had made for her. Her mother who was alien to the North as well but took it as her own. She thinks of how they mocked Balon's declaration of kingship. How King Robert had spoke of the first Greyjoy Rebellion. Maron lost everything then, a brother, his family his home, his body for a time. They took those from me too, these soft southern lords. They share a mutual outrage, a shared wound.

He is a man. And a handsome one at that. She can only imagine he was not married yet because he was held by Stannis. Even if greenlander lords would hesitate to marry their daughters to an ironborn, even a Greyjoy, there would have to girls on the islands throwing themselves at the chance to be his lady. But then again, he is proud. Likely a minor lords second daughter would be beneath his consideration. I am the first born daughter of a Great House, we're of a kind, and a better match for each other than I would be for Lord Wilas no matter how kind I hear he is. The thought is shocking, terrifying even, a sudden wave nearly capsizing her ship. She tries to banish it but the damage is done. She can't stop thinking about fine blue eyes, clever words, a fierce laugh, board shoulders and large rough hands.

She is falling in love with him. She knows it with the certainty of death. With death's inevitability. She respects him too much not to love him, admires him too much to want anyone else. It sets a new fear in her. She has no experience with this really, she spent so long trying to avoid this aspect of life she doesn't know how to handle wanting it. Isn't sure he'd want her even and has no interest in making a fool of herself finding out. He can have anyone he wants — and likely has. It doesn't bother her really, the expectations for men and women are different but it does leave her feeling at a disadvantage. She doesn't even know to begin with a courtship, especially with a man who would laugh in the face of the customs does she know. It's easier to try and ignore it, to run like a coward from her own attractions like always. She's not Robb. She sacrificed all her recklessness long ago, too scared of consequences to take risks ever again. Hopefully this madness will pass. She just has to weather the storm.

She loves him. It's as painful as a deep inhalation of sharp winter air, collapsing her lungs inside her with the power of it. He's tall, strong, handsome, traditional — everything she wanted in a man without realizing it. She loves his voice, loves it more when he speaks his own tongue, so alien to her. She loves his kindness and his brutality. Hands that have buried axes in flesh have cupped her own so gently. He's ironborn and she knows what that means, there's maybe one in twenty customs of their she does not hate. But she cannot begrudge him any of it, though that makes her complicit in his crimes. For all his evil she cannot condemn him. Not when he has held her as she wept bitter tears over all she'd lost. Not when he'd let her follow her own customs to carry out the sentences on the traitors who'd stolen everything. Not when he'd breathed life back into her, given her a reason to keep living.

Maron was not just a man, he was a force of nature. When he stood on the deck of his ship or with axe in hand the Gods looked on him with favor. You could see it in those terrible blue eyes.

for @azmenka

[idolsummons]

so anyway nano.wrimo leans towards the side of supporting ai-generated artistic works... 😬

[troublcmakcrs]

//the south park fandom needs to wake back up bc i'm feeling annoying ✨️

[piningpercussionist]

hey hi uh would you be able to check if y'all have The Land Before Time IV back in stock yet?

Sure thing- one moment.

*Kim turns to the monitor and pulls the keyboard a little closer to herself before she starts typing away. After a minute, she slides it back to it's original spot and turns back to the customer.*

It looks like we do, yeah. It should be in our Kids and Family section- let me know if you need help finding it.

[charmerquilled]

I just want to put it out there, for anyone new who has followed recently ( or anyone who has been a long time follower), that asks/submissions/and threads are closed and going through a phase of clean up! 8D I promise, I'll get my stuff back in order again soon (I REALLY want to finish my art piece first because it will be front and center on my blog's background and such and I'm too excited to see it come together) But this means I am going to have a TOTAL clean out. Clearing my ask box, clearing all threads. I want to start over without the pains of moving blogs lol. Same rakan, new everything else haha. I hate to delete things, but I haven't truly been active on Rakan for a year due to life, and I'm just now starting to get my passion for writing back. So thank you for your patience with me. I love my golden chaos birb and I can't wait to throw him at peeps again.

[ednaeflowers]

edna's love language is quality time. she's spent 1000+ years by herself on r.ayfalke waiting for e.izen to come home—she will never, ever admit to it, but she's definitely felt lonely before through those 1000+ years, so quality time would definitely help bring her closer to someone. she will still, of course, tease whoever she is with: because of how she's like, the more she teases you, the more fond of you she is. she isn't the type who talks about how she actually feels, especially if it's sentimental or personal, so it's very subtle in how much she enjoys someone's company. she opens up slowly, but once you gain her trust, she trusts you.

it reassures her to know that she still has people around her. it'll make her feel more comfortable knowing that there is still at least another person she can be around since she literally lost the only person she could truly rely on—so, it makes sense that she doesn't want to lose more people. she is very "loud" about how she teases people, but very "quiet" in how she shows what's actually on her mind. to know what she is feeling, it's all in her actions.

[kel-is-here]

I mean yes, I do agree that he is far too good for this world and that he deserves much better but were you seriously planning on pushing him to suicide?

-Death Anon

"I..."

[discountdyke]

someone left a rude comment on my fic 10 thousand feelings hurt 100 million tears shed

[rescuinglives]

on the one hand, i like being iconless, but on the other, i miss having that little flare to my posts lol. i am torn...

i also still don't know if i should make grace her own blog or keep her as a sideblog on here. idk which would be easier but i want to start writing as her sometime soon!

also-also, i'll be working on starters soon, and i'll reblog the post just in case anyone else is interested!

[ancientgoldboundspirit]

// lil psa: tbh, i'm not huge on 100% adhering to canon details & yada yada. honestly, it'd be downright impossible for me-- I never technically read or watched through All of the original yugioh (read a Solid chunk, but skipped past a Lot of the card game playing lol)

[caointeag]

MARON ( @azmenka ) said ❝ don’t move. you’ll only make the pain worse. ❞

She's still not clear exactly WHAT happened — just that one moment she was fine, and the next she wasn't. The line had broken but she and the other archers had seen it coming. She'd nearly lodged her hatchet in a man's skull she remembers that. So when had — whatever happened — happened? She thinks she might've been stabbed or shot or something but she doesn't know. It's all somehow far away and blindingly present all at once.

Maron's above her, holding her up she thinks, so the battle probably over now (whenever that is, time is strange at this moment) and they've likely won it or this wouldn't be happening. He speaks, telling her what to do and the part of her that studied medicine under maester luwin dimly agrees with him. Still it would be better if she saw, if she knew what had happened so she could plan accordingly. Which is also in accordance with the same teachings, though usually meant for someone treating and not the patient. Still. She begins to turn her head down to look at the wound but a strong hand brings forces her jaw back up before she can see.

Maron is yelling orders in that odd tongue of his, gamall jarn. Theon told them a little about it, taught them a smattering of words to show off but never any more. Ironborn secrets. Ironborn. As far as she knows she's the last stark alive save Jon and the only one who can take up ownership of Winterfell. If this wound is as bad as she's starting to think it is, not just her life, but the future of her people rests in the arms of the king of the Ironborn. A historically terrible place to be, right beside a Red King. There's probably some tactical or personal advantage to letting her die — there's also probably some tactical or personal advantage to not letting her either. She's a bit too preoccupied to think of the political ramifications and military advantages right now.

He looks down at her again, checking. His eyes are very blue, the sky very grey behind him. Well, alright. I've trusted him this far, might as well go all the way. There's movement, she's being braced, held steady by what seems to be half the burliest men in Westeros, a sudden catastrophic pain. She screams. And blacks out.

wound related starters | accepting

[ukulele-mixtape]

Maple Scraps: The Siren's Call Chapter 9

context: tune (oc) has just arrived at restoration hq and is having A Time getting adjusted to being front and center in what she considers to be the heart of enemy territory. and it doesn't help that they're all nice and willing to deal with her shit attitude even despite her protests.

and the one who confronts her on that eventually is silver.

i.e. the trust building exercise chapter aka my favorite chapter that i worked on before i abandoned this fic

cw! for food, starvation, and slight disordered eating.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a little late into the evening, and a few weeks since the trio arrived at Emeraldville. After countless introductions and friendly faces, all of whom questioned the reasoning behind their favorite blue blur’s…facial situation (prompting multiple unique reactions at her expense), Tune found herself in the midst of Restoration HQ the first day of her arrival. It was an underground base of operations in Emeraldville for something they called the Resistance: a ragtag freedom fighting organization formed with the goal of fighting in the war against Dr. Robotnik (whom she now was forced to learn was, indeed, actually named Dr. Eggman, adopting the nickname to spite those who hated him.). 

She learned that after the “Zombot'' apocalypse spread across the globe, the original Restoration HQ was decidedly moved underground in favor of maintaining safety, security and allowing for people in need of a place to stay to rest their weary heads, helping out where they could as a collective volunteer effort. As much as something like this would seem like it’d be right up her alley, Tune felt suffocated by the talents surrounding her. She watched as soldiers trained and rattled off plans for supply distribution and mercenary work. Mechanical noise bounced against every wall, echoing inside the halls she silently passed through. People of all demographics ran around with paperwork in their hands, shopping bags full of clothes and food in their cheeks as rewards for a hard day's work. Community laced every facility this place had to offer, and yet Tune felt completely overwhelmed, struggling to find anywhere to breathe. 

Tune understood she was right in the heart of the most dangerous place in the world for someone like her, and if she wasn't careful, she would certainly reveal herself as a threat they would have no problem managing.

So, for the next few weeks since the trio’s arrival, Tune made it her business to stay clear of anything to do with the Restoration. It wasn’t her problem to deal with, and it certainly wasn’t something she was confident she could even contribute to effectively, if she even wanted to. She’d force herself out the exit, skates retracted and ready to roll away into the horizon, considering just taking the chance and hopping on the next train back to Station Square so she could transfer and finally get her Ramtrax ticket to New Mobotropolis right this time. But even if she managed to scramble enough cash, she had the knowledge that these people finally knew her. She wasn’t anonymous anymore. She had stepped into the limelight she never wanted, a consequence of her reckless actions.

And each time she felt herself trying to leave without a word, without anyone knowing she was gone, she would hear the distant yells of some of its founding members beckoning her to return. Notably Amy Rose, a girl Tune deemed to be way too nosy for her own good, despite her earnest attempt to ease Tune’s worry. 

‘You’re always guaranteed to be safe with us’, Tune recalled the conversation she had with Amy on that first week, Amy’s honesty seeping through all corners of her tone, cupping Tune’s clawed hands. ‘This is a place where people can come and go wherever and whenever they want as volunteers, but it’s packed to the brim with the best security around. No one is going to try and hurt you.’

‘Why would you assume I'm worried about something like that?’ Tune asked brashly.

‘It’s all on your face, Tune: you're incredibly on edge.’ Amy would reply. ‘You’re a musician right? You must be worried about those attacks going on all over the news. You look like you’re itching to break out of your own skin, like everyone in the world is out to get you just by looking in your general direction.’

‘Can’t say I’m particularly worried about getting caught in that drama in the music world. I don’t perform gigs anymore; getting panic attacks on stage ain’t really my style.’ Tune tried to cover, disinterested eyes turning to the side. ‘And I can handle someone trying to come at me just as much as I can handle a whole music setlist on my own.’

Amy would let go of Tunes hands, clapping her own together like the greatest idea known to man had just popped inside her head, eyes twinkling with excitement as she carried her thoughts out.

‘So why don't you take one of the dormitories for yourself?’ she’d giddily ask. ‘We can set you up with some sound equipment and you can work on your stuff there! I’m sure we have some instruments laying around in the supply room.’

‘Why would you wanna do something like that?’ Tune pondered. ‘I don’t got any money on me to pay for that kinda hospitality.’

‘It won’t be a paid stay, you’re welcome to be there as long as you want. And like I said, this place is for volunteer work. We’re not going to turn you down because you’re not quite acquainted with us just yet. That defeats the whole purpose of what we’re trying to accomplish here.’

In her mind, Tune could see exactly how Amy brightened up as she felt her eyes lock on to the pink hedgehog's. It was frustrating…she hated the idea of disappointing someone like this so soon. But she couldn’t just stay here. Not when there was work to be done elsewhere. Not when there was a chance Alto could be closing in. Not while he was still out there claiming more people into his ranks. And most importantly, not if she wasn’t able to do something in return to warrant the gesture.

‘…And if I say I don’t want it?’ Tune would ask.

‘Then it’s ultimately your choice.’ Amy responded quickly, as if she already had experience with conversations like this before. ‘No one will force you, but I do urge you to consider it, even if only for a day or two.’

Tune paused, contemplating. With an uneasy tone, she muttered out a simple: ‘...I’ll think about it.’

And Amy’s smile became infectiously wide. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’

And that’s what led her here. The final day of her third week, Tune, who once basked in the sensory input from all corners of the world was now begging for silence. The hustle and bustle of the underground city became too much for her to handle, and she was practically on the verge of dissociating from her body entirely. She needed a place to breathe, but refused to ask anyone around where she should go, lest they spark up conversation needlessly. So with a mindful eye, she studied the way people would enter and exit the facility for what felt like hours. A button here, two hidden locks there. Any time she’d catch someone’s eye, she’d bolt out in a panic, comically pretending like she was doing something important when anyone would try and circle around her.

And when she tried to walk away after a while of surveillance, she turned around the corner and got a face full of soft white fur.

“Whoops, woah there!” Silver exclaimed with a slight chuckle, a basket of all types of snacks, from pastries and sandwiches to flavored tea bags in his hands. It was weaved together by beautifully wooden straw and ribbon, wrapped cleanly in plastic wrap. Realizing who he’d accidentally bumped into, Silver beamed. “Oh Tune, just the girl I needed to see today! We were wondering when you were going to show back up again. Amy wanted to give you this personally, but she had a few errands to run.”

Before she could even blink, Silver thrusted the basket into Tune’s arms, allowing her to examine the contents up close. It was so…girly. She could see a tiny note on the edge of the basket; frilly, neatly placed handwriting etched on the parchment: “I added some extra cheese danishes for good measure! Welcome aboard <3”  How did Amy know that she liked cheese danishes? She never told anyone. Was she like, psychic or something?

“I’m not one for handouts,” Tune stated, a little too coldly, trying to place the basket back in Silver’s hands. “Don’t you think you should give this to someone who’d actually deserve it, Floats?”

Silver shook his head. “It was made specifically for you, so you gotta take it. Amy’s orders.”

“Since when am I taking orders from her all of a sudden?”

“Since now.” Silver’s voice lowered firmly, slight annoyance laced in his tone. “So come on, eat up! There’s some good stuff in there.” He placed his hands on his waist playfully. He watched her eye the basket's contents curiously. She was hesitating to accept it. But that reluctance didn’t match her eyes, uncovered by her glasses, they darted around like they were desperate to rip open the plastic and dig in themselves. And so to goad her into committing, he pressed on with a wiggle of his brow. “If you don’t I will.”

“Knock yourself out, then.” Tune immediately responded plainly, trying once more to shove the basket back in his face.

“What, you don’t want it? Not even these here…mochi doughnuts?”

“The what?” She tried to play it cool, but without her glasses, Tune was completely exposed as she quickly retracted her hands to scan the basket more thoroughly, trying to find the doughnuts he promised. And then, embarrassingly so, setting up the next punchline of her life, her stomach grumbled in anticipation. 

Got her.

“Now what could that be, I wonder?” Silver slyly pondered with an innocent tone, placing a finger to his chin, much to Tune’s dismay. “Come on, let’s eat some together! I’m due for a break, anyway.”

“Ugh, do I have to?” she whined, her voice small.

“Yep, captain's orders.” Silver gestured to himself.

“Since when am I taking orders from you all of a sudden?”

Silver flicked a small psychic wave at Tune’s back, pushing her to get moving. She stumbled a bit, but eventually took the hint and started skating along the pavement. A light blue aura surrounded Silver as he floated in the air and scrolled past her with a smile. He made a big waving arm gesture, beckoning her to follow him as he glided his way to the Victory Garden entrance, Tune skating faster to make sure she didn’t lose him.

“Since now.”

–

The two sat quietly on the roof of Silver’s greenhouse. It took a bit of nudging for her to even try and sit next to him, but Tune eventually relented, pressing the button to make her skates detract again and hugging her knees with her arms. She had a bored look on her face as she gazed out into the distance, watching the sun set below the horizon. It was like she didn’t want to be here at all. Which, to be fair, she didn’t. At least not with anyone. Even still, Silver tried to take her cold demeanor in stride, watching as she set the basket down with her dominant hand, careful to ensure it wouldn’t roll over. He took the initiative to open the basket, confident she wouldn’t have bothered if he hadn’t. He took out a few of the items; a cheese danish and ube mochi doughnut wrapped in clean plastic film and an apple fritter for himself, setting the danish and doughnut by her side. Tune side eyed the pastries, not making a move. Her stomach grumbled once more.

“You know, you can eat it.” Silver jested, already starting to dig into his fritter. “You seem really hungry. When’s the last time you ate?”

“...I dunno. I had some leftovers from the train ride that I've been trying to salvage all week, but I think I finished them off yesterday morning.” she mumbled, placing a cheek to her knee, away from Silver's obviously worried expression.

“So…you haven’t eaten since yesterday?”

“Pretty much.”

“But why not just get something from the cafeterias or something? You can eat train food but you can’t eat when people offer you stuff?”

“I can eat it because I paid for it to be included when I bought my ticket. The cafeteria acts like a soup kitchen for the needy. I don’t need anything.”

“So you’re just comfortable with eating scraps, is that it?”

“That a problem?” Tune sneered in his direction.

“Well of course it is!” Silver wanted to strangle her. “No wonder you’re so grouchy. You gotta eat.” He pushed the pastries a little further towards her, trying to get her attention. “Try the danish, Amy’s pastries are really good.”

“I thought I told you I don’t take handouts.”

“It’s a gift.” Silver groaned exasperatedly.

“One I'm not really sure you realize I don’t deserve.”

There was a long, awkward pause after that. It’d been hard getting Tune to really say much of anything when she arrived that first week, this being the first real conversation anyone other than Amy had with her. She relented on Amy’s request for her to stay in one of the dorms, but never came out unless she absolutely had to, usually during the evenings when most people were heading back home anyway. Her eyes were always glazed over, like she hadn’t slept in days.

When she would be asked to do something around Restoration HQ, like cleaning, delivering paperwork or even organizing boxes, she’d do it without question, but retreat once no one had anything left to demand of her. She would never be willing to hang out, but would always be staring off into the distance on her breaks at people, like if she wanted to mingle but didn’t know how, or rather refused to allow herself to.

Silver had offhandedly vented out his concerns to Sonic at one point during a date to the park, the two hedgehogs finally having a brief moment alone after a long time apart.

‘Do you think she hates us?’ he’d ask. ‘I don’t think we’re doing anything wrong here…’

Sonic would pull Silver in close from the side, shaking his head.

‘I don’t think so,’ Sonic’s nimble hands would speak for him. ‘Since I’ve known her, she’s not the type to want to get too close. She doesn’t want to let people in just yet.’

‘But she doesn’t act the way someone like Shadow or even Knuckles would do. Those two are just introverted, but Tune? She just looks so…not happy. Amy had given her all those instruments for her dorm and it’s really rare when we hear even a peep. But music’s the one thing she seems to enjoy the most, no?’ Silver’s worry danced around his tongue, unable to stop himself. ‘Do you think that there’s something going on? Maybe we can help her.’

‘It’s ultimately up to her to decide if she even wants that help, babe. We can’t just force it on her.’

‘But if she continues like this…’

Sonic gave a fond look towards Silver as he listened, noticing how he’d fidget around his benched seat in the park. Sonic took another bite of the food platter they’d been sharing, Silver swirling his soda cup around lost in thought.

“I’ve seen that look countless times in my life…’ Silver admitted somberly, sliding his pointer finger up and down against the sides of his cup. ‘In my time period, it wasn’t uncommon. You bury yourself into your work, you hide away in your bed, you barely function at all as a person when you think there’s no point to anything. I just worry she’s going down that same route.’

‘Maybe she just needs that gentle push then?’ Sonic would suggest. ‘Maybe instead of going for a direct approach, we just finagle our way to the finish line.’

‘What do you mean?’ Silver’s ears perked up in anticipation, tilting his head to the side.

‘Someone like Tune isn’t gonna listen to us when we’re hovering all over her.’ Sonic continued. ‘And unless she’s forced out, she’d rather spend the whole day locked away. So why not do something to casually ‘put her to work’ so to speak.’

‘‘Put her to work?’ She already works plenty at HQ.”

‘Nah, nothing like that. I mean, give her something to do. Something to distract herself. Something tangible, like maybe food, or trying to offhandedly persuade her into going on a walk. Something that seems innocuous so she doesn’t suspect anything weird.’

‘Do you really think that would work?’

“Well it’s not a guarantee, but it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

After that, Silver had caught her a few times when working at the supply depot, trying to stir up some type of conversation, anything at all to get her to familiarize herself, but she always would give a simple “Sorry I'm a little busy. Maybe later.”, and then would proceed to cut her break early in favor of more independent work, but that “maybe” never came.  To say the gang was worried about her was an understatement. But how could they approach someone who made it their whole business to not be perceived in any capacity whatsoever? They had nothing to go off but her foul mouth, her interest in music, and her inability to accept any form of help from anyone who tried. She gave them absolutely nothing. Truly, she was a handful without even having to try. 

But, she still did take up the offer to take that dorm. So, supposedly there was one thing, at least. If she didn’t want to be here, she had every opportunity to leave. But she didn’t.

Silver stared at his garden below. It had been a nice growing season: the spring’s rain helped bring many flowers to the forefront, allowing them to bathe in the sunshine they’d been working so hard to meet. The potatoes and carrots he had planted were sprouting beautifully, lush green leaves spread out across the crater in lined patterns. Silver wished that he could bring some over to Tune, maybe to have something to tide her over, but she’d already peered at the garden like if she knew he would ask. So he didn’t bother.

He didn’t want to give up on her though. He was sure he could break through, if only for just a little bit. It was like a puzzle that needed solving, and Silver wanted to be the one to do it. So, he tried again. He tried to break the ice frosting over this summer’s evening roof.

“Can I ask you something?” he began, glancing up at Tune. She barely acknowledged him.

“You're gonna do it anyway.” she said plainly.

“...Why do you keep saying that? The whole ‘I don’t deserve this’ thing?”

“Because I don’t.” she quickly uttered. “I don’t deserve y'all's kindness.”

“But who told you that?”

“I don’t need to be told, Floats. And I don’t have to be a brainiac like Lil’ Fox to know how I’m being right now. How I've been all week. It’s intentional. I need y’all to stop.” her tone was getting a bit more stern.

“Stop?” Silver shifted in his seat. “Stop what, exactly?”

Tune finally turned to face Silver again, raising her body to sit up, her expression angry, flustered. His worried expression only served to tick her off more.

“T-this! This crap,” she hotly retorted, wildly flailing her arms around as if to emphasize her point. “All these kind gestures and trying to check in on me. I see right through you; Who freakin’ wouldn’t? You guys are so transparent it’s almost insulting. But yo, not for nothing, why y’all trying so hard to make believe you want this? I give y’all nothing yet every time I try to pull away, you keep coming back and I don’t know why!”

Her face was hot, but her expression was that of total fear, like a cornered, feral animal.

“Because we want you to feel okay, we want you to feel welcome.” Silver tried to argue. “We care about you, Tune. And like it or not, we’re worried.”

“But why?! What have I done that warrants you trying to help? Why are you people trying everything in the universe to convince me I’m worthy of something I’m not? You don’t know anything about me.”

“But you won’t even let us get to know each other. Do you really think it’s fair to say we shouldn’t worry about you?”

“Y’all need to learn to put that energy towards people who need it more. People who deserve it.” Her voice was tiny as she hugged at her knees once more.

She wasn’t listening. No matter what, she was completely, utterly incapable of forming any other opinion of herself that wasn’t perceivably negative. It put Silver in a very hard position, the desire of wanting to help and not knowing how. She was being completely unreasonable with herself. It was like trying to convince herself of anything, pleading for her to love herself, or at the very least respect herself, would be null and void to even try for.

And then a light bulb stuck.

If Silver could convince her to respect herself just yet, she’d learn to respect others through her own actions of self care.

“So, do you only ever respond to people demanding things from you?” Silver asked, almost condescendingly. “Is that what you want? Is that what'll make you think you deserve something from us?”

Tune didn’t entertain him. But Silver continued anyway.

“If so, I want you to eat that danish,” he said.  “And I won’t let you leave here until you do. I'll stay up the whole night if I have to. And even after that.”

Tune stood silent, but her eyes curiously locked on with Silver’s determined glare. He was going to get through to her if it killed him.

“...You'll be here a while then.” She tried to fight. Her stomach growled once more, betraying her.

“I’ve got all the time in the world. I live here now.” he said simply.

“...Pass.”

“Then how’s this?” he challenged, picking up the danish and practically shoving it in her hands. “I won’t eat a single morsel if you don’t.”

“W-what?!” she exclaimed, eyes widened.

“You heard me. I don’t eat until I see you do it. Any time you take a bite, I’ll do it too. The second you stop, I stop.”

“That’s insane, I’m not letting you do that.”

“Well if you don’t like it, start eating.”

“You're gonna starve yourself like that, dude! Don't be an idiot. You gotta feed yourself if you’re hungry. How else do you expect to–” she cut herself off. 

Silver smirked, the silence all he needed to hear. He watched as she processed everything, from the way he looked at her to the basket separating the two. She let go of her knees and gazed at the garden below. And after a long, agonizingly long, silent beat, Silver watched as she took the mochi doughnut from the roof, and unwrapped it, looking at Silver one last time as she defiantly nibbled at it with the fronts of her teeth, choosing the wrong pastry to start with. He mirrored her actions, nibbling at the apple fritter still in his hands, and when she took notice, a scowl formed on her face, a blush forming around the edges of her cheeks. Aggressively, she forced the doughnut into her mouth without restraint, chewing grossly and never breaking that eye contact. Silver followed suit, shoving his fritter in his mouth alongside her. If people were around to see it, they’d look crazy. 

He watched as she chewed thoroughly, like if she was putting all the effort she could muster in this one action. He didn’t relent, and only when he saw her swallow, even going so far as to open her mouth and stick out her tongue to show she wasn’t lying, seeing all the purple and golden brown bits of the doughnut stuck to her shark like teeth, did he do the same, mouth agape and all.

“Happy?” Tune grumbled, shoving the wrapping into her pocket.

“Very. But we’re not quite done here. I said the danish.” He pointed to the pastry in emphasis.

“I ate something. Isn’t that enough?” 

“Nope. I said you needed to eat the danish. So if you want to do something useful, eat it.” Silver lifted his leg so he could rest his arm atop, rummaging for another snack in the basket. He settled on a fruit sandwich. “Remember, I don’t eat until you do.”

“Oh my–for the love of everything–I’m gone. Eat by yourself.” Tune growled, getting up from her place on the roof and made the attempt to jump down, but Silver was faster, quickly snatching her body with his power with a firm grip. Her eyes were threatening to bulge out of her sockets, and she wished so hard that night she could use her sonar wave to absolutely wreck his shit and blast him off the roof.

She was gently, but firmly, placed back on the roof of the greenhouse, her blazing yellow eyes staring daggers at Silver’s calm frame, only being released by her top half, her waist down still firmly in Silver’s very casual grasp. It was like holding her down like this meant absolutely nothing to him. She was desperately still trying to fight this, grunting as she was trying to fight against his iron grip and stand. But she couldn’t no matter how hard she tried.

“Nope, that’s not happening.” Silver said matter-of-factly.

“You better let me go!” Tune screamed.

“Eat the danish and I'll consider it.”

“I ain’t wasting more food!”

“It’s not a waste. You need to eat.” Silver didn't let up no matter how hard she fought.

“Silver, let me go. Now. I ain’t playin’ around no more.” Tune’s tone was dark, threatening, demanding, evident by her dropping Silver’s real name.

“Eat the danish.”

“Give it to someone else!!”

“Nope. They're for you.”

He was playing her game and going for that high score.

Another beat. Silver could swear he saw steam coming out from her ears. She blew air into her cheeks, her fur completely tensed up, eyes twitching, wrinkles all over that ugly expression. If he wasn’t so committed to this, he’d laugh so hard right now at her face alone, knowing she was imagining every conceivable way she could gut out his insides with her eyeballs. But he knew better, and he was desperate to help her. And while he hated being so relentless and admittedly uncharacteristically harsh, she needed to know she was deserving of that help, even if this was the only way to get it through that thick head of hers.

And then, once more, after an agonizingly long wait,  she snatched the cheese danish carelessly and released it from the wrapping, looking away from Silver and towards the now completely starry sky. Silver followed suit with that exact same energy, opening the fruit sandwich and at the same as Tune, ripping a piece of the breaded good with his teeth. Tune ate, and she ate, and she ate some more. It started off quick, eating for the sake of getting Silver off her back. But the more she chewed, the more she began to really just…reflect.

For the first time since she left home, she allowed herself to savor every morsel instead of just using it for temporary fuel for a cause. She acknowledged the lightly sweetened pastry cream, the flaky crust surrounding it, the tender love and care that went into every painstakingly long step to crafting such a delicious snack. And by the time she finished, she was crying, this time for real. This time for a reason.

Silver watched as Tune carefully snuck her hand into the basket to grab another item from the menu of goodies Amy had provided, taking out around three and unwrapping them all. She ate quietly, glancing at Silver as if to demand he’d do the same. Content, he released her from his psychic grip. She didn’t fight. There was a long, comfortable silence in the air, the two just snacking away atop the greenhouse, taking in the gorgeous night sky.

“Silver?” Tune suddenly uttered, mouth full of snacks.

“Yeah?” Silver answered to her unknowing plea, the refreshingly calmer use of his name not gone unnoticed.

“...Thanks.”

Silver nodded and placed a hand into the basket, grabbing a bag of barbecue flavored potato chips. He opened it up, allowing the aroma to float into the atmosphere. And before he got the chance to place his hand inside the snack bag, he saw Tune’s hand closest to him reaching, clenching her clawed fingers like a child, demanding he hand some over to her. Silver smiled warmly, soft chuckle escaping his lips. He reached inside and pulled out a handful of chips from the bag, placing them in her hand and watched her eat quietly, sniffling all the way. 

"That's what I'm here for." He began. "But you know, I don't want to keep doing this. I want you to take better care of yourself, if not for me, then for you. If you'd like, we can start small and eat lunches together during our breaks. Or I can teach you ways around the Victory Garden and you can harvest stuff for your meals. That way you don't feel like you're taking away from us or freeloading."

Tune's voice was hoarse, but genuine. "You're so weird. Caring about someone you know nothing about."

"I could say the same for you, Tune." Silver simply stated, his tone warm. "After all, you didn't want me to go hungry either. Sounds to me like you care without you having to say anything. That's why we gotta learn more about each other, right?"

Tune's mouth curled ever so slightly upward as she chewed the last remaining bits of chips left in her hand. Turning her gaze directly to Silver's, she muttered a small, "Whatever, dude." But the rude reply obviously didn't match her now calmed, slightly amused tone.

He’d eventually want to get a full meal inside of her soon, but for now, this was okay. Because Silver knew for certain.

He got her.

as a noted fun fact: this comic i drew a while back took heavy inspiration from this chapter. it's tune after her arc is completed.

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[earthtooz]

in which: alhaitham resorts to lying on top of you in order to get you speaking to him again.

quick alhaitham thought i needed to get off my mind, making out at the end lol, potentially ooc

there were a lot of things you didn’t expect when entering a relationship with alhaitham. you didn't expect him to have kaveh as a roommate, you didn’t expect him to overthrow the government, and you didn’t expect him to resort to pettiness in order to end the silent treatment you were giving him.

it’s suffocating beneath him, squished into his soft mattress with his body weight, muscles wrapped around you like a python whilst one arm is extended outwards, balancing a book. you wonder if he’s actually reading it, but you can tell he’s enjoying himself regardless, evident through the way he often turns his head to place a kiss on your exposed collarbone, burying his face into your warmth from here to there. 

for the umpteenth time, you grunt, losing your mind just a little. his body warmth was getting too much, and you’ve been lying here for who knows how long, just staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

you want to protest, berate him for flattening you before shoving him off, but that would mean surrendering, and this time, you want alhaitham to be the one to give up first. 

as if hearing your thoughts, your grey-haired lover then glances up at you, sleepy gaze filtered through messy strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes. you almost cave at the domesticity of it all, only just stopping yourself from brushing his bangs away. 

“still upset?” he murmurs, putting his book face-down to wrap his arms tighter around your torso. “fine. have it your way, i’m going to nap.”

“no-” he perks up at the sound of your voice, raising an eyebrow as a mask of smugness gleams over his face. you shut your mouth immediately, cursing at yourself to slip up so easily, but you really needed to stretch out your legs and the other discomforts of lying like an unmoving plank beneath alhaitham. 

“what was that?” challenges your boyfriend. you don’t answer him, merely staring him down as he sits back, grabbing your wrists. “oh come on, i know you want to say something, out with it.” 

shaking your head, he scoffs at your stubbornness as if his isn’t just as frustrating, and gently caresses your hand. his touch is tantalising, urging you to give in, and paired with that lidded look of his, it’s practically impossible not to.

not many people get to see alhaitham like this, you realise. most know him as an indifferent, closed off, and unapproachable scribe, turned grand sage, turned scribe, yet you get the honour of seeing him as this. “talk to me already,” he demands gently, not letting his grip waver even as you keep trying to pull your hands away, only slipping away so far before he’s holding you again.

there aren’t many battles you can win against him, you know that, and one of them was a battle of strength. as he holds your wrists tight to your sides, his face so close to yours, you feel his earlier playfulness melting into something sincere. 

“are you still mad?” asks alhaitham, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as a pout appears along his lips. the response you give him is a petulant turn of your head. he sighs through his nose. “i’m sorry, okay? i was out of line, i should have listened to you, alright?”

his tone is uncharacteristically kind and warm, warm enough for you to give in to his pleas.

“you mean it?” you tease, grinning widely at him. in the blink of an eye, the tension from alhaitham’s shoulder seeps away like sand, and he sighs with relief before agreeing, a solid ‘yes’ slipping through his mouth. “then i accept your apology.”

“you minx, enjoying the sight of me like this, aren't you-” he murmurs, and you swallow his brewing snide remarks with a kiss, closing the gap by firmly pressing your lips against his. alhaitham is not surprised by your sudden affection. rather, he welcomes it, melts into you wholly as a hand holds the back of your neck to keep you against him. you're warm and precious and everything he could ever desire, so he can't help but let his hands wander, searching for more.

as your mouths slot together, there’s a delicate exchange of apologies that words cannot express; ironic, since alhaitham knows of several ways to apologise in a multitude of languages. nevertheless, he thinks that this is the best method.

with the way you move in sync with him, he can tell that this is your favourite too. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[ednaeflowers]

AAAAAA EDNA GOODIES ARRIVED TODAY 💛💛💛💛🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹