#(am making this after working on a portrait of one of my best friends)

[touch-starved-lurker]

ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART

do yall ever tear up because you just love your friends so much? because same

[g-hughes]

maybe kinda like a part two of the quinn fic where she gets even closer to his brothers and family and quinn is just watching as the most important people in his life all fit together so well

Yours Forever - Q. Hughes

part 1 || masterlist || g's graduation celly

synopsis: it's the 2nd annual Hughes Bowl, and Quinn gets a glimpse at what his future is going to look like

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none!

It was the eve before the second annual “Hughes Bowl'' and you were in a panic. Quinn had gone to the airport to pick up his parents, who made the trek across the continent to watch all three of their boys play together. It must’ve been such a surreal feeling for them, watching their sons on the ice, years of hard work and dedication paying off. From what you had gathered, Ellen and Jim were the Hughes boys’ biggest fans, and would try to make as many games as they could. And if they couldn’t make a game, they were always calling Quinn either right after or the next day to talk about it. 

“Are you sure that the couch looks okay against-” 

“Yes, for the tenth time, yes it looks fine against the wall,” Quinn said as you facetimed him. 

“Do not yell at me, Quintin, I am nervous,” You scolded and Quinn let out a laugh. Ellen and Jim haven’t been to your new apartment that you shared with Quinn. You were nervous for them to be staying with you. What if they didn’t approve of it? What if they hated your decorating skills? What if you weren’t a good homemaker? “Oh my god, I should’ve baked like cookies or something.” 

“You? Bake?” Quinn chuckled again, “Yeah and pigs can fly.” 

“Quinn,” You whined, “I want to make a good impression. This isn’t like going to the lake house or anything. This is our house.” 

Quinn smiled as the word ‘our’ fell from your lips. Almost as soon as the summer ended, he asked you to move in with him, and you, of course, said yes. But Quinn didn’t just want you to move into his apartment, for starters, it was a total man cave, with minimal decorations, one set of silverware he bought at target, and the standard blinds that came with the place. He wanted to get something that was going to be comfortable for you, and close to your work. So the two of you picked out a beautiful apartment in a small village area of Vancouver, it was close to your work, and felt like the two of you could have some privacy. 

“Baby,” Quinn said sincerely, “You have already made the best impression on them. They love you, and nothing is going to change that. . . well maybe your abysmal baking skills,” You giggled, “So please stop stressing. It’s going to be okay.”

You let out a breath and looked around the living room, “I guess you’re right.” 

“I know I am,” Quinn winked at you, “But I gotta go. They just landed. Oh! And the boys should be over soon.” 

“Boys?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting in confusion. 

“Yeah, Jack and Luke are on their way over.” 

“Quinn!” 

“Bye, Love you!” 

You groaned, as the line went dead and you were left glaring at your lock screen of your boyfriend. Though you spent the whole summer with the Hughes brothers, you still felt a bit awkward around them. Every time you tried to get to know them a little bit better, one of their friends was whisking them away to partake in some event. You were cordial toward them, but you weren’t sure what you were going to do to entertain them until Quinn and their parents got home. Hell, you weren’t sure what you were going to feed them until Quinn and their parents got home. 

You couldn’t ponder the question long, as there was a knock on your front door. You smoothed the fabric of your clothes and fixed your hair before opening the door, revealing a smiling Jack and a somewhat smiling Luke. 

“Hey!” You greeted, “Come in! Welcome.” 

The boys lumbered in, taking in the place. “Well, it's obvious Quinn wasn’t allowed to decorate,” Luke joked. 

“Yeah,” You chuckled, “As much as I love Gretzky, I didn’t need a life size portrait of him in my living room.” 

“Oh, I bet Quinn was just devastated,” Jack feigned. 

“Cried for days,” You shook your head, a mock pout on your lips. The boys both chuckled at your response and settled in on the couch. You felt a sense of ease wash over you, a smile tugging at your lips. 

— — — 

Quinn leaned against the passenger side of his jeep, his black yankees cap pulled down low on his head to hopefully hide himself from fans as he waited for his parents. Not that he usually gets ambushed in public, but sometimes he was asked for a picture or to sign an autograph or two. Normally, he wouldn’t mind it, but tonight, he just wanted to get his parents and get back home to his girl and his brothers. He didn’t get a lot of downtime throughout the season to see them, so he was going to take advantage of all the time he could get. 

“Quinny,” His mom’s voice called out to him as they walked out of the airport. He smiled and greeted his parents with a hug, “Where’s Y/N?” 

“Nice to see you too, Mom,” Quinn scoffed, “She’s at the apartment. Jack and Luke are there too.” 

“Oh good,” Ellen smiled, and settled in the backseat so Jim could sit up front with his son, “How are things going? Liking the new place?” 

Quinn nodded his head, “Everything is going great, and yeah we really like it. There’s some nice trails and a park nearby. We try to go on walks every morning together.” 

“And?” Ellen asked. 

“And?” Quinn asked back, “And everything is good. Y/N just got a promotion at work, her hours are more flexible. We’ve even been looking at adopting a cat, Y/N says she needs a friend when I’m gone on roadies.” Quinn was not a cat person, not even in the slightest, but seeing the way your eyes light up as you showed him the adoptable cats on the city shelter page made his heart flutter. 

“And?” Ellen asked, once again. 

“And what, Mom?” Quinn shook his head, “Everything is good.” 

“She wants to know when you’re going to propose,” Jim said, filling in the blank that Ellen had left. 

“Oh,” Quinn blushed. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes darted to the glove box, “I uh. . . I might’ve bought a ring a couple weeks ago.” 

“Oh I knew it!” Ellen exclaimed, “Jack said you were asking him about what kind of ring styles Y/N would like.” 

Quinn rolled his eyes. He really needed to stop telling Jack things about his relationship. Jack was like his mom’s spy. 

“When are you going to do it?” Ellen asked, “How are you going to do it?” 

“I don’t know,” Quinn shrugged. 

He thought about waiting until the season was over, but it was only December, and he wasn’t sure he could wait that long without putting that ring on your finger. He also knew that neither one of you liked to be the center of attention, and a big proposal wasn’t what you would want. You guys had talked about it before, you wanted your proposal to be an intimate affair, and a small celebration afterwards with your family and friends. 

“Have you asked for permission?” Jim asked, “You have to ask for permission.” 

“Yeah I did,” Quinn nodded. He invited your dad, who was a lifelong Canucks fan, to a morning skate and then a chance to meet the guys afterward. Quinn had then taken him to a nearby brunch spot, where he had asked for his blessing to marry you. Your dad had never been a man to show his emotions, unless he was watching a hockey game, but he had teared up, and told Quinn that he was the only man he ever thought worthy of marrying his little girl. And those words made Quinn tear up too. 

“I’m so happy for you, Q,” Ellen leaned forward, putting her hand on his arm, “She’s a very special girl.” 

“I know, Mom,” Quinn looked over his shoulder briefly at her, “I’m lucky to have her.” 

Quinn pulled into his parking spot, grabbing his mom’s suitcase for her. The elevator ride was short up to their floor, Quinn talking about how the team was coming along this season. After last year’s historic turnaround and run in the playoffs, Quinn felt the pressure even more in his second season as captain. He needed to prove not only to his team, but to the city that last year wasn’t a fluke. That Canucks hockey was back, and Quinn was going to lead his team back to the playoffs and hopefully to the Cup. 

“Between Yogi and Krog, we’ve been working so hard on the powerplay,” Quinn shook his head, “It was our downfall last year in the second round, but I feel like we’ve really turned it around.” 

“I agree,” Jim nodded his head, “You guys look like a totally different crew when the power play comes around. Toch probably feels relieved to have someone else on that call.” 

“Yeah,” Quinn nodded as he neared his front door, pulling his key out, “Krog has been such a good addition. The guys really like him and-” 

“You fucking suck!” A loud curse came from the other side. He stared at the door for a moment before another loud yell came out, “I fucking hate you!” Quinn’s eyebrows arose in concern as he quickly unlocked his front door. 

“Hey! Everything al-” Quinn shouted as he walked into the apartment. 

“You two fucking cheated!” Jack exclaimed, jumping up from the couch, “You cheated! I know you did!” 

“How do you cheat in Mario Kart?” Luke asked, chuckling. 

“I don’t know! But she cheated!” Jack flopped down on the couch. 

“I’m sorry, Jacky, you just aren’t as good as you thought you were,” You laughed and a feeling of relief flooded Quinn’s body as the familiar sound of the video game filled the space. You looked over your shoulder, a bright smile on your face, “Oh hey!” Then your eyes widened as you noticed Ellen and Jim behind your boyfriend. You quickly jumped up from the couch, and made your way over to them, “Hey! Welcome to Vancouver.” 

You hugged them both, as Jack paused the video game and walked over to his family. 

“Thank you for inviting us,” Ellen beamed at you, “And kicking my son’s ass in Mario Kart.” 

“They ganged up on me!” Jack whined, “I was out numbered.” 

Quinn wrapped his arm around you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. You blushed and looked at him, “How was the drive?” 

“Not bad,” Quinn shrugged, “How were the heathens?” 

“Could’ve been worse,” You chuckled, “Could’ve been better if Jack didn’t suck at Mario Kart.” 

“Alright,” Jack slammed his hands down on the counter playfully, “Rematch. Right Now.” 

“Oh you’re on,” You jested, rushing over to the couch with Jack and Luke in tow. Quinn shook his head with a laugh, his heart feeling full as he watched you interact with his brothers. His brothers’ opinions had always mattered so much to him, so seeing you so casually fitting in with them, made Quinn even more sure of his decision. 

— — —

Quinn love hated playing against his brothers. He loved watching them out on the ice, playing a sport that they’ve all grown to love, chasing their childhood dreams. But he hated having to be the opponent, the enemy. He hated that only one of them was going to go home victorious and with bragging rights for the next couple of months until they played each other again. Quinn loved seeing the bright smiles on his younger brothers faces when the final buzzer would go off, but he hated the feeling of letting his team down. 

You waited by the locker room for Quinn, his mother and father already headed back to the apartment. They knew that the only one Quinn would want to be around or talk to after the loss was you. For years, Ellen and Jim had tried to be the ones who Quinn would talk to after losses, but they gave up once he was about 15. But you managed to crack that tough interior of Quinn Hughes. You gave him a sad smile as he walked out of the locker room, his hair still wet from his shower. You were a bit surprised to see him back in his suit, normally he would have traded it in for some sweatpants and a hoodie. 

“Hi,” You whispered to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers brushed over the red mark on his forehead from his helmet, “You did good.” 

“Not good enough,” He huffed, putting one of his hands on your hip, “We should’ve won,” Quinn shook his head, “But I’m happy the boys won.” 

“I know,” You said, “It sucks to lose, but I’m glad Jack and Luke got the win.” Quinn nodded his head, “C’mon, let’s go home.” 

“Wait,” He said, grabbing your hand, “I think I left my stick in the box. Come with me?” 

“Can’t you get it tomorrow?” Your eyebrows creased in confusion. 

“No!” Quinn said, quickly, “Uh no. The equipment guys want all the sticks accounted for the night after the game. They’re weird like that.” You nodded your head slowly, still suspicious of his motive, but agreed to follow him back towards the arena. 

The arena was dark, except for a single spot light in the middle of the ice on the Canucks logo, and the blue band lighting around the lower bowl. It was weird walking into the rink, and it being quiet, save for your footsteps on the concrete. You were so used to this place being loud and bursting with excitement, it was a nice change to see it like this. In the past year, Rogers Arena has felt like a second home, a safe space. 

“It’s weird seeing this place quiet,” You said, as you walked to the team bench, “I kind of like it.” 

“Then you’ll like this even more,” Quinn said, “C’mere.” He held his hand out, and you took it. There was a carpet laid out from the gate on the boards, to the center of the ice. 

You looked around, in awe at the sight before you, “This. . . is crazy,” You scoffed in disbelief, “I can’t even imagine what it is like twenty thousand people are yelling your name,” You cupped your hands around your mouth, whispering yelling, “Huggy Bear! Huggy Bear! Huggy Bear!” 

Quinn chuckled, reaching out to you and grabbing your hips, “It’s a pretty surreal feeling. Sometimes I can’t even believe that this is my life. That I’m really in the NHL, and I’m really living my childhood dream, playing against some of my childhood icons and-” 

“And beating them,” You winked. 

“And beating them,” Quinn added, “But I was going to say, and I get to do this with the love of my life by my side.” Your heart started beating faster, butterflies taking flight in your stomach as Quinn grabbed both of your hands in his, “Y/N L/N, from the moment you crashed into my life, literally,” You chuckled as tears started filling your eyes, “I knew that you were going to be it. I didn’t know I was missing something until you came into my life and it all just seemed to make sense. I felt complete. You made me feel complete.” 

At this point, both you and Quinn had tears in your eyes. He let go of your hand, as he got down on one knee, pulling out a small light blue box from his pocket. Your hands flew up to your mouth, as he opened the lid. 

“Y/N, will you please-” 

“Yes!” 

“I didn’t finish-” 

“I know, but yes!” You grabbed Quinn’s face in your hands, placing a tender, yet reassuring kiss on his lips. 

“But I have to finish asking you,” Quinn said. 

“Okay,” You nodded, standing back up, “Ask me.” 

“Y/N, will you marry-” 

“Yes!” Quinn chuckled, grabbing your left hand, and sliding the simple, yet beautiful ring on your finger. He stood up, as you threw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. He stumbled for a moment, before wrapping his arms tightly around you. You leaned your forehead against his, “I love you.” 

“I love you,” You said, wiping away a stray tear from his face, “This is the best day ever.” 

“Just wait until we get to say ‘I Do’ for real,” Quinn pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “Now c’mon, Jack said he was getting us a cake to celebrate.” You smiled, as you took Quinn’s hand and walked off the ice. When you reached the locker room you froze. 

“Oh my god,” You gasped and Quinn looked at you in a panic. 

“What? What is it? What’s wrong? 

“Who’s going to be your best man?” You and Quinn both shared a look of momentary panic.

“They can play rock, paper, scissors for it.”

[dovesndecay]

It's June! It's Pride! It's (my) Birthday!

The Introduction Spiel:

Hi, I'm Reyah! (any pronouns! no really, go for it!) On June 21st, I'm turning 32, an exciting and mysterious age to be!! (So I've heard)

Warning: This is a post asking for financial help, and if there's one thing I would ask is that if you read the whole thing: please reblog.

I'm a multiply-disabled queer person of color, a writer, artist, and photographer. I live with three of my best-good-pal-friends, (@renthony, @kryptidkhaos, and @natalieironside) and our collective army of pets.

We all know it's damned hard to be all these things at the same time under the capitalistic hellscape we're living under, and we/I am always in need of a lot of help with the existing.

I ended the month of May with some smaller bills left still to pay, but am thankful to say that June already had fewer bills than usual due, and the amount I need to start the summer off right is actually less than I was afraid it would be! Woohoo!

What I Make

I mentioned my artistic endeavors, let me show you them!!

Writing

I write less often than I'd like, but I share poetry and shorts, when I have them, on my Patreon!

You must be over 18 to pledge, as I have, can, and will again share Adult Content occasionally. Patrons pledging at least $1/month get access to all content. But most posts becomes free to access eventually. :)

When I do longer form content, I primarily write fantasy with a focus on queer brown characters with disabilities, mental illnesses, and disordered attachments. Because therapy is expensive, and writing is free.

Photography

I do wildlife and landscape photography, primarily, but you can also check out my portrait and event work on my website! You can purchase PRINTS HERE.

And because it's my birthday, I'm offering a 32% discount code for all my prints! The code is good from June 1st to July 1st!

A Note, if you purchase a print: first off: thank you. (please feel free to send a photo of wherever you display it!!!) secondly: this will not go towards the received totals on my financial need because Pixels doesn't pay out until nearly 2 months after the purchase. Funds made from sales will go towards future needs.

CODE: PDHHTR

Artwork

I've been exploring art, both analog and digital, a lot more lately, and have shared both process photos and final drafts on Patreon! Here are just a few examples:

I admittedly don't post on patreon as much as I wish I had the energy to, but I try to make at least one thing a month, provided I have the spoons and time.

Creativity is, like, a level 5 spell slot when you're disabled and impoverished, and I appear to have exactly One (1) of those available at any given time.

The Needs:

The Bills: $1,100

Yeah, we had to get here eventually. Since this post is already pretty long, I'm putting the rest under a cut.

More than half of this, as always, is just for the car payment and insurance that keeps the regular day-job-haver getting to said job, and all our medical appointments, errands, etc.

I still owe around $13,000 total on Johnny Car, but I think we all know that's just not a real number.

The rest of the funds would go toward paying the small subscriptions, for my various medications, and the regular attempts to whittle away slowly at the $4,300 worth of other debt.

($2,200 of back taxes, and $2,100 of credit card debt, and gods, do I mean slowly. Interest piles up so much faster than I can seem to whittle.)

If you're able and willing to help with paying the bills, direct donations can be made here:

PayPal | (link)

Venmo | (dovesndecay)

Cashapp | ($dovesndecay)

If you can, and only if you can.

The It Would Be Cools:

Since every dime that comes in goes primarily towards food and bills, there's little left afterward to be put towards other life necessities like clothes, toiletries, let alone things I just think would be nice/neat/nifty to have.

I have a High Priority wishlist. It's mostly art supplies, bulk toiletries, etc.

I'm woefully low on clothes, being short, fat, and trans, so very little of what I own actually feels good to wear so much as it simply covers my body. I have a wishlist of clothes that would be nice to have.

For everything that firmly lands under the "I just want it" category, I have an Enrichment list. It's mostly stuffies, but also games, room decor, hobby supplies, books, and stim toys.

Our household keeps a big wishlist for things we need, want, groceries, accessibility products, and everything in-between.

Okay, now what?

Well, now, I'm gonna ask that if you got to this point, and if you can't/don't want to do any of the things listed above, then please reblog this post.

The more people that reblog it, the more likely I'm able to pay my bills for one more month this year.

But if you don't, it's not like anyone's gonna know. I'm not omniscient, I swear.

Anyway, I don't expect anyone to do anything if you can't or even if you just don't wanna, but if you can and you're willing to, it means the world.

I didn't think this is where I'd be at 32. But I never really expected to get here at all in the end, and it's a lot nicer than I thought it would be. Mostly because I am surrounded by amazing people who have the capacity to be so much kinder than I will ever have the words to describe.

Thank you, and to all, a happy pride!

🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤

[melzula]

The Necklace

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: apologies for how long this took me! this piece is a request and though it is part of the fire lilies series i think it can also be read as a stand alone

summary: Zuko asks Sokka for help with an important task

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

It was a busy day in the Southern Water Tribe as preparations for the upcoming Lunar Festival began. In two days your people would carry out the longstanding tradition of honoring the moon spirit for blessing the tribes with water bending, and as Chief you had much to do to ensure everything went smoothly.

Nine years have passed since the war ended, and in that time the South has completed its era of reconstruction and is now a strong and unified nation able to hold its own alongside the other countries. Resources are plentiful, commerce is high, the number of water benders in the tribe grows each year, and your people are happy.

As you had set out to do, you’d created the harbor to allow those from other nations to visit your home and learn about your culture. This not only led to a boom in your economy, but it also brought great pride to the South as you shared your culture and gifts with those curious to learn about your history. Your relationship with the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom strengthened as a result, and you were happy to see everyone getting along. The next step to maintaining progress was establishing embassies in the other nations, and construction in the Fire Nation was already underway. You’d accomplished many things so far in your time as Chief, but you know most of it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of your friends.

Hakoda and Malina had been a great help in modernizing the tribe, and once their work was done Malina found herself returning to the North after an amicable split from the advisor. On the other hand, Hakoda had recently stepped down from his position, deciding it was time to retire and allow the next generation the chance to lead the South into the future. And so that led you to where you are now, discussing the perfect layout for the festival grounds with your newly appointed advisor.

“I think the game booths would look best set up along the perimeter of the courtyard to leave room for the merchant stands in the center,” Sokka notes thoughtfully as you look over his roughly drawn map of the proposed layout. “If everything looks good to you we can begin setting up immediately to have it ready in time for the first day of the festival.”

“I think it looks great, Sokka! You know, you’re a natural at this whole advisor thing,” you compliment with a teasing nudge to his side. Having Sokka step in for his father was the obvious choice when it came time to pick a new advisor. The water tribe boy had always been a shoulder for you to lean on and a person you could go to for guidance, and you can’t even count how many times he’s kept you out of harms way. No one was more qualified for the job than him, and it filled you with joy to be running the tribe alongside one of your closest friends.

“I really am, aren’t I?” He agrees with a proud grin, prompting you to regret inflating his ego so much. “Hey, is Zuko still coming by for the festival?”

“He is! I just received a letter from him yesterday promising his arrival,” you sigh wistfully as your eyes turn towards the portrait of the Fire Lord on your desk. “We haven’t had much time to see each other lately, so I’m excited to finally spend time with him.”

“You guys are pretty good at this whole long distance thing,” he notes thoughtfully, “you make it seem so easy.”

“I think it helps that we’re both always kept so busy running our own nations, but it doesn’t make me miss him any less. Now that things have calmed down I just hope we’ll be able to sneak away and visit each other more often.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen,” Sokka vows earnestly while placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “As advisor, it’s my job to make your job easier, and that’s just what I’m going to do.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” you reply with a careful smile before returning your attention to the plans laid out before you. “Now, is there any way we can make space for a seal jerky stand?”

~~~

Zuko’s stomach was in knots.

The harbor was fast approaching as his ship began to close the distance between the sea and the shore, and in just a short amount time he’d be back in the South. With time he’d begun to feel like less of an outsider to the tribe’s people, they’d come to accept him as an ally rather than a threat after helping their Chief time and again, and so how his arrival would be perceived wasn’t on his list of worries. This trip to the Water Tribe would be different, maybe even life changing if all went according to plan, but there was no way to know for sure until he got there.

Sokka is waiting at the edge of the harbor when Zuko finally disembarks from the ship and sets foot on the wooden docks. The Fire Lord isn’t able to say anything before his friend immediately tackles his figure in a strong bear hug.

“Zuko, it’s so good to see you, buddy!” He exclaims before pulling away to get a good look at his friend. “Your hair got longer!”

“So did yours,” Zuko replies with a light chuckle before surveying his gaze along the docks.

As if reading his mind, Sokka explains, “Y/n’s teaching a healing class right now so she sent me in her place. I’ll be taking you back to the palace so you can settle in and get ready for dinner with her and her mother.”

“I see,” the fire bender notes quietly, almost relieved by the fact that you’ll be preoccupied for the next hour or so. It makes his current task much easier.

Noticing the preoccupied look on his friend’s face as the two begin to venture towards the palace, the water tribe boy places a comforting hand on Zuko’s shoulder and asks, “Everything okay? You have a weird look on your face and you don’t seem as excited as you should be to see y/n later.”

“I am excited, I just also happen to be nervous,” he corrects before letting out an anxious sigh. His features turning serious, Zuko stops in his tracks and shifts to face Sokka head on. "I have a favor to ask you, an important one, but before that I need to tell you something, and you have to keep it to yourself.”

"Of course, Zuko, anything."

“Now that there is peace among nations and things are finally falling into place, I think it’s time I propose to y/n,” the Fire Lord declares with a bashful smile and a blush spreading across his face. “I came on this trip not only to enjoy the festival but to also ask her mother for her blessing.”

Shock is written all over Sokka’s face as his mouth hangs open in surprise at his friend’s confession. However, his dumbfounded look is soon replaced with one of joy as he lifts Zuko up off the ground in a tight hug.

“I can’t believe it! My best friends are going to get married! This is great news!” He exclaims much to Zuko’s dismay. With a scowl, the fire bender worms his way out of the hug and gives the water tribe boy a pointed look.

“Keep your voice down!” He scolds while looking around frantically to make sure no one has overheard them. “I don’t want her to find out and ruin the surprise. I also don’t exactly know how our people are going to react to this marriage, so I’d like to keep it private for now.”

“Sorry, you’re right. My lips are sealed,” Sokka solemnly swears, but his giddy grin remains glued to his face. “Can I at least see the ring?”

“That’s the thing,” he says whilst awkwardly grasping the back of his neck. Almost sheepish, Zuko admits, “there is no ring. I want to do it the right way by making her a betrothal necklace, but I have no idea where to start. Can you help me?”

“You’re asking me for help?” Sokka retorts emotionally, his eyes almost immediately welling with tears. Quick to brush them away, he sniffles and rests a firm hand on the Fire Lord’s shoulder. “Buddy, I am going to help you make the greatest betrothal necklace in the history of the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Thank you, Sokka. I knew I could count on you,” he affirms with a careful smile, and though one of his tasks has been completed, Zuko knows he still has a lot of work cut out for him before this trip is over.

Spirits help him.

~~~

You let out a quiet hum as you clean up after the day’s healing class. A grunt leaves your lips as you hoist one of the practice mannequins over your shoulder and work to set it into the closet. Master Pakku retired as your co-instructor a few years back to enjoy married life with Kana, and so it was now on you to prepare, run, and organize class. You managed fairly well on your own, but it was times like these where you missed having someone to help- the mannequins did start to get heavy after a while.

You’re too busy trying to shove the last practice doll into the closet to notice someone has joined you, so you can’t help but jump in alarm when a voice asks, “Need a hand?”

You turn with a start, but your fear immediately morphs into pure joy when you see your boyfriend standing before you. He opens his arms to you with a smile and you immediately throw yourself into his embrace, hugging him so tightly that the wind is nearly knocked out of him.

“Zuko, you’re here!” You exclaim with glee before reaching up to pepper his face with kisses. “I’m so happy to see you, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Princess,” he chuckles, his cheeks growing red as a result of your assault. “I know we were supposed to meet for dinner, but I couldn’t wait to see you. Sokka told me you’d be here.”

“I’m glad you came,” you admit with a smile before allowing Zuko to put away the last mannequin for you. With the practice room finally tidy and organized, you take Zuko’s hand and begin your trek towards the palace.

“How is festival planning going?”

“It’s going wonderfully! The crew I hired will begin set up tomorrow so that the merchants can begin preparing their stands. I’m aiming to make it our best lunar festival yet!”

“With you in charge, I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” Zuko compliments. There are guards waiting at the doors when you arrive, and after giving you both a curt nod you’re allowed passage into the palace. The familiar icy architecture greets him with a chill, but the Fire Lord gladly welcomes the feeling.

Your mother waits at the end of the hallway for you both with a smile and immediately envelopes Zuko in a hug when you reach her.

“Zuko, it’s so nice to see you again! I’m thrilled you’re joining us for dinner.”

“Thank you, Kira. It’s an honor to be your dinner guest,” he replies with a careful smile.

“I’m going to get freshened up before we eat, but you two go ahead and get seated without me,” you inform both of them before departing to your room. You turn down the hall and disappear into your bedroom, effectively leaving Zuko alone with your mother.

“Come, the dining room is this way,” your mother instructs him as she guides the boy to his seat. A wave of nerves suddenly washes over Zuko as he realizes the perfect opportunity to speak to your mother about his proposal is now before him. With you gone, it’s his only chance to have a moment alone with the woman. This conversation could make or break your relationship, and this thought weighs heavily as he seats himself across from her.

“Are you feeling alright, Zuko? You look flushed,” she points out with a concerned look. Harshly swallowing down his nerves, the fire bender decides it’s now or never.

“I’m fine, but… there is actually something I’d like to speak with you about.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” the woman assures him with a comforting smile and her undivided attention. “What is it that’s on your mind?”

“Well,” he begins, anxiously grasping at the back of his neck, “first I want to start by saying I never really apologized for taking away your only daughter all those years ago, but I’d like to do so now. It was a rash decision based upon the fear of never getting to see her again, and I thought running away together was the only option. However, I never once stopped to think about how that would affect you and your people. I was separated from my own mother once, and so I can only imagine the pain you must have felt worrying about her whereabouts and if she was happy. And truthfully, she wasn’t. But I’ve spent every day since trying to make it up to her.”

The room is silent but the air is void of any tension. Though an array of emotions wash across your mother’s face at Zuko’s confession, there is no hint of malice or resentment. Rather, her eyes are understanding and her lips hold an unwaveringly careful smile as she takes in his words and his disquieted nature.

“I won’t sugarcoat things and say that it wasn’t hard having my only child leave my home,” she notes thoughtfully much to his dismay. Sensing his apprehension, she is quick to continue on, “but I know that in the grand scheme of things it was for the best. Y/n wouldn’t be the water bender or Chief she is today if she had never left the South. I hold no grudges and I certainly don’t blame you for the choices she made.”

“I appreciate your kindness and openness,” he says with a respectful bow of his head, “it makes this next part less terrifying.”

Intrigued by his wording, your mother raises a brow and asks, “What will be less terrifying?”

Taking in a deep breath, Zuko meets your mother’s gaze with eyes full of sincerity and passion. It really is now or never.

“I came on this trip not only for the lunar festival but also with the intention of crafting a betrothal necklace for y/n. I know there is no future for me without her in it, and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy. I don’t know for certain the implications a marriage between us has on the future of our nations, but I do know that I will do whatever I must to be with her. However, before I propose, I wanted to get your blessing. I’d like to do things the right way this time, and I want you to know my intentions.”

Kira is silent for a long time, her face full of shock but still unreadable to a tense Zuko who waits with bated breath for a response. For a moment he fears that perhaps he’s misspoke, that he is unworthy of asking such a request and has offended the matriarch, but then her shocked expression morphs into one of joy, and Zuko immediately feels the tension in his shoulders dissipate at the sight of her smile.

“I knew this day would one day come, and I can’t tell you how I thrilled I am to know you’d like to marry my daughter,” she exclaims gleefully, her eyes shiny with tears that she works hard to keep at bay. “You have proven yourself time and time again to be a good man, Zuko, and I know you will make a wonderful husband for my y/n. You absolutely have my blessing.”

“Thank you, Kira,” he exhales gratefully as he rises from his seat and meets the woman across the table with a tight hug. A tremendous weight has now been lifted off of his shoulders, and he is one step closer to marrying the love of his life. “I promise to love and honor y/n for as long as I live.”

“I have no doubt in my mind about that.”

“Wow, what did I miss?” Your curious voice interrupts as you stumble upon their embrace, a confused smile displayed across your features. Your mother gives Zuko’s side a squeeze before releasing him back to you.

“I was just expressing my gratitude to the man that has proven time and time again to be the perfect partner for my daughter,” she expresses with a jovial glint in her eyes that you aren’t quick enough to detect. Zuko is grateful you’re completely oblivious to their previous conversation, and he hopes it will continue to stay that way until he’s ready to propose.

“He’s more than perfect,” you compliment before pressing a chaste kiss to his warm cheek, making his heart melt in the way you’ve always done since you were children.

He can’t wait to spend forever with you.

~~~

The lunar festival goes off without a hitch.

The royal plaza is filled to the brim with people enjoying the food and festivities as they pay homage to their beloved moon spirit and her gifts. You’re absolutely thrilled to see your hard work in action, and Zuko is enamored by the joy that spreads itself across his face. Every smile that curls upon your lips makes him weak in the knees, and he’d love to simply sit and admire your radiance all night if he could.

But of course, Sokka had other plans.

While you’d been wrapped up in a conversation with your old friend Kai and his new fiancé, the water tribe boy took it upon himself to sneak Zuko away to the rocky shores in search of the perfect stone.

“Before you can make the necklace, you have to pick a rock that speaks to you.”

“Speaks to me?” Zuko retorts with furrowed brows. “It’s a rock.”

“It’s not just a rock, Zuko,” Sokka rebuttals defensively to an annoyed Fire Lord. “It’s a symbol of your love for y/n! If you want to do this the right way then you have to find a stone that calls to your heart the same way she does.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” he mutters sheepishly in response, his cheeks tinting red at the intimacy of it all. He knew crafting a necklace would be a great responsibility, but he didn’t expect it to be so personal.

Surveying the vast expanse of rocks at his disposal, Zuko carefully scrutinizes each and every one. He wants the stone to be perfect because you deserve to have the perfect betrothal necklace, but the thought of not being able to find the right one makes him anxious. If it’s not the right one, then what will that mean for your marriage?

Nothing his friend’s obvious apprehension, Sokka places a comforting hand on his shoulder and explains, “Don’t stress about it too much, Zuko. Just trust your gut.”

“Easy for you to say,” Zuko scoffs in irritation, “you’re not the one dealing with the pressure of making the perfect betrothal necklace.”

“No, but I am dealing with the pressure of helping you make the perfect betrothal necklace,” he counters with a prideful grin, and while usually a comment like that would provoke an irate response from Zuko, the Prince was much too enamored by a rock sticking out of the sand to craft a proper comeback.

The moonlight almost seemed to shine down upon the rock as if beckoning him to grab it. The stone was cool in his palm, smooth to the touch and almost perfectly free of any ragged edges or scrapes. It sat daintily in his hand, delicate despite its toughness, and it reminded him of you.

“This is the one,” he utters in quiet awe before looking up at the moon. Eyes gleaming, he smiles and murmurs a “thank you.”

“You’re one step closer to the perfect necklace, buddy,” Sokka congratulates with a hearty pat on the back before guiding the Fire Lord back to the village. “You just need to add the finishing touches.”

The two wind up back inside Sokka’s hut with an array of tools sprawled out amongst them. After discussing multiple options and looking through various crudely drawn sketches by Sokka, Zuko settled upon a carving that he felt best encapsulated the nature of your relationship- a carving that displayed not only your differences but also your strengths and unity.

Attaching the stone to the blue silk ribbon, the two boys sit back in silence to admire Zuko’s creation.

“You think this is the best betrothal necklace the water tribe’s ever seen?” He jokes quietly in an attempt to mask his nerves. Now that the work is done reality has begun to set in for Zuko, and he realizes now the only thing left to do is actually propose.

“The best,” Sokka replies quietly, the emotion evident in his voice despite how hard he tries to hide it. He sniffles and wipes away the tears that threaten to spill before looking to his companion with a smile. “She’s going to love it.”

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu @heartfully10 @creationcitystreet-em

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @cipheress-to-k-pop @potato87123

[hello-sweetheart]

Fame and Fortune

Do you dream of glory? Crowds of thousands all adoring beneath you. The roaring cheers echoing in the arena. Countless of small white lights held up like beacons creating a sea of waving stars all for you. Breathless exhilaration has your chest heaving, skin glistening and damn. To feel like a god: never ending, eternal.

What would you be willing to do to get it?

What are you willing to sacrifice for fame?

Who are you prepared to lose?

Could the love of millions be worth the love of one?

——

[Backstage: Corroded Coffin Global Tour-Los Angeles, Ca]

Eddie is pacing, more than just pre-show nerves numb his hands. His cigarette burns quickly, ash falling on the carpeted floor, but no amount of nicotine filled lungs will fix this. Gareth, his drummer and long time friend, is watching him pace, eyes pleading.

“Is it worth it, Eddie?

We all got what we wanted; why are we miserable? You can’t lie to me, we all feel it. I see it in everyone, even you! You haven’t been the same since—“ He receives a withering glare from the frontman and sighs, speaking softer.

“I miss mom and my little sister. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them… I’m no longer drawn in her crayon family portraits, did you know that? Does Anne even remember me, anymore?

How can you keep going like this and expect us to do the same? I’m grateful—I really am—for you. You got us where we are now, a fantasy that we never even dreamed would become reality. It was amazing, I’m glad I got to experience it all with you, but I’m tired. I’m so tired guys.

I just want to go home.”

The long drag he takes burns his throat,

“Look, we’re all tired, I get it. Really, I do, this tour has been… particularly grueling I’ll admit, but come on. This is our last show, the big finale! We’ll give them all we got and then we’ll be able to take a break to freshen up before doing what we do best: creating kick ass music.

Like always. You’ll feel better after this, we always do after the last show—“

Gareth cuts him off, his patience clearly stretched thin.

“No, Eddie, listen to me! It’s different this time. I’m happy with the money we’ve made, we all have enough to live comfortably and I’ve been thinking that, you know, it’s time to settle down. I can’t do that if I’m always working. This, the band, it doesn’t… it doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

Jeff stands and his imposing figure makes Eddie pause from wearing a path into the floor.

“He’s not the only one, man. Im sorry, but its killing me. We don’t expect you to give it up either, you can keep the band name, find new members, keep signing… But for us? We can’t keep going, man. This is the end of the line.”

‘Not him too. Fuck. Fuck!’

“No! What am I—I’ve given up too much for this, you can’t just, fucking, bail on me!” This band, playing with his friends, it’s become his entire world. He’s lost too much to get here.

“Woah, woah, hey! No one fucking told you to and you know it. We’ve always had your back no matter what, but anything you chose to do is on you. Not us. The least you could do is extend us the same fucking curtesy and respect the fact that we’re fucking done with this bullshit.”

His gaze is venom as he looks at band, Grant and ‘Freak’ silent but agreeing with the rest. They refuse to meet his gaze.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He turns and leaves. They’ll be starting in 15 minutes.

Fucking cowards. Ungrateful bastards.

A memory plays in his head. Brief and intrusive. The voice of someone long gone from his life rings in his mind.

“I’ve missed you, Ed. Are you done at the studio, yet? When are you coming home?”

“Steve, this is important. You know this. I’ll be pulling a few more all nighters here—this album has to be perfect, baby.”

A crackling sigh is barely audible through the phone.

“I know, I know. I’m just being selfish. I’m sorry. Miss waking up to you next to me.”

“Miss you too, baby. You’re my world you know. Love you more than anything.”

“More than music?” It’s a timid question.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he’s the only one to laugh into the receiver.

“Right… night, Eddie.”

“Wait, Stev—“ fuck. It was only joke. Whatever, he’ll apologize tomorrow.

Right now, he has music history in the making.

[sakumz]

a/n : tw reader has family issues, slight gore

-------------------------------------------------------

[ g. kaldo x fem reader ]

-------------------------------------------------------

you slam the telephone down in your office. kaldo slightly jolts from the sudden noise as he placed the daily newspaper he was reading back on the small table next to the couch. taking one quick sip of his honeyed coffee before making his remark.

" what's got you so worked up in the morning? "

" morning? it's already noon! " you scold as you turn to face him, the tears on your eyes barely noticeable.

" they should call you the angry cane, " he jokes as you slump back down on your chair.

" what are you even doing in my office? "

" just chilling, I'm free. there's really nothing for me to do here, I could go home if I wanted to but I'd feel bad for the rest working their asses off. anyways enough about me but let me guess who was on the phone! your sister right? " he had a hand on his chin before snapping his fingers together.

" yeah... "

work was your escape from the family house you grew up in. magic was everything in this world. if your magic was stronger everyone would possibly respect you right? or so you thought. growing up as the big sister and middle child of five siblings. you're bound to be compared to your older brothers. it was unfair if only your parents didn't value one gender over the other. your brothers weren't as great as you. your first brother works in the bureau of magic but you're a divine visionary, also part of the bureau of magic so why? why does your parents still expect more from you? his wife recently gave birth to his second child. your second brother, step brother, is peacefully living his life as a successful bakery owner. both your younger siblings were in high school, both in their first year, one's your biological sister and the other is your half sister or not half but step sister. you're barely 23 and yet everything feels so far apart.

" so incompetent. " you mumbled as kaldo tilts his head.

" why? " you can't help but whisper as tears starts to prick your eyes. kaldo stays silent.

" I'm a divine visionary yet what more can she expect from me? I've done everything I can to be the best... I've even slayed that one dragon beast, earning a title... I've saved countless of people. so why? " you can't help but bawl your eyes out. kaldo gets up from the couch as he approaches you, rubbing slow circles on your back.

" you're more than the best, they don't say it but if they're not proud of you then I am. nothing can change that. I think you're incredible. " he says, calming you down.

you left the house and had been living by yourself ever since high school up till now. you don't have a reason for being in a place that haunts you for not being better than your older brothers. your sister called you earlier, inviting you to the family's dinner party tonight.

" kaldo... come with me to my family's dinner tonight, " you look up at him.

" your step mother will be there? " hearing those words, you can't help but glare at him. your real mother had been dead since your sister was born. that step mother of yours, doesn't even look one bit like you! isn't it obvious she's not your real mother. kaldo did visit your family house once, all the portraits of your real mother were replaced by her face. there's barely any family photos hung on the walls either.

" yeah. " you spat as he smiles.

" am I coming as your co-worker, best friend or potential lover maybe husband even? " you blush at his words.

" c-c-co-worker! "

after work, you and kaldo made your way to the family house. not bothering to change out of your work clothes. nervousness didn't bother to eat you. you felt oddly confident, having kaldo with you. if there's bloodshed today, you're certain it'll be your victory. kaldo feels happy he's going in the house again. he talked to the others about visiting the grand family house and no one was surprised he finally managed to visit it. everyone having gone in once as well but this second visit will make him special! if only he knew the madl family was a close partner to your family's. that means orter and his brother used to come over frequently to play. he didn't know that, of course.

" welcome home. " the house butler greets you, surprised to see you bringing a plus one, a male too.

" good to see you Mr butler, " he smiles at the nickname you've given him, barely remembering the last he heard you calling him that. he takes your coat and kaldo's as he hung it on the rack, near the entrance doors. before walking you to the dinning table.

everyone was quiet for a moment, taking in your appearance and the man next to you. your father sat at the end of the table, your step mother next to him and your first brother on his other side. everyone has taken their seats and the vacant ones were the one directly facing your father, the seat next to it or the two seats next to your step mother.

kaldo pats your shoulder. you take this as a sign to sit. you took the seat directly infront of your father as kaldo sits next to you, next to him was your sister.

everyone starts to eat, the table was quiet. you were surprised how kaldo didn't say anything. the food was a distraction, how you miss the cooking of the house. truth be told, the only good parts to living here was the workers who serve the family. your father clears his throat as the attention shifted to him.

" when are you, y/n going to get married? " he questions as everyone turns to look at you. you drop your fork on the plate as a surprise to the question.

" isnt it obvious, she's dating the guy next to her? " your step brother jokes as you cast a spell controlling his shadow to slightly tug at his leg, making him hit the table. all the plates, glasses and bowls clanks to the movement.

" orter madl would've been the best one for her to marry, " your first brother chimes in. his wife next to him, nods.

" big brother i want to marry him, don't say that! " your step sister says as she slams her hand on the table.

" ew, I doubt he'll even bat an eye at you. remember when he came over to watch the divine visionary candidate test, he said you were incompetent and far from his type. don't try your luck, " you can't help but laugh at what your sister said. everyone turning back to you.

" sorry, but orter would rather stab himself than be with you. " you wipe the tears from your eyes as kaldo smiles.

" anyways, I can't see myself with orter. we're best friends and I wouldn't want to be in an arranged marriage with someone who didn't get the freedom to pick who they'll marry. especially one just to tie the family together. " you finish the sentence as you look directly at your father.

" well we didn't say you'll be in one, marrying the orter madl gives you some sort of high title. you should take it, " your step mother says.

" I'll be fine. besides kaldo here, will be my life long partner. " hearing you say that, got kaldo grinning from ear to ear.

" that man, doesn't look like kaldo gehenna. " your step brother says matter of fact. " maybe you've casted a spell to make some other guy look like him and then brought the man over. "

" that's a pity, if it's true! Hahaha, " your step sister laughs.

" be quiet, is it true? you, kaldo gehenna will marry y/n? " your father says, turning to look at the man.

his eyes open, smiling at him as he says, " yes, and insulting me won't go unnoticed. you shall receive punishment for that. I could get you expelled from easton academy and I can burn down your precious bakery. "

" don't do that, say something! y/n! " your step mother shouts as she slams her hands on the table, dropping down a glass next to the floor.

" shut up, this is beyond my control and why should I control the actions of my beloved? " you question as this bubbles up her anger. she summon her wand, casting a spell to pick up a broken glass to throw it as you. it cut your cheek, you felt the blood run down. you stand up from your seat.

out of anger, you threw the glass next to you at your father. aiming for the wall behind him, he was unfazed. everyone looked at you. have you gone crazy? that's the man who created you with your late mother. the man who spends money on you, lets you live in his house.

" y/n, sit. " your father ordered as you stand, not moving an inch.

" no, thanks for dinner. I'm sorry dear sister. I can't stay for long and if I could, I would have done so long ago. you know I'm strong. I've defeated countless of monsters, that doesn't change the fact I can take the life of humans too. " your step family, shudders at the thought. a cold blooded bloodbath with them? maybe together with your father and big brother too. you turn your back against them. kaldo stands and places a hand over your back.

" she'll be in good hands, family in law. "

" who said anything about letting you into this family? your father work hard raising you and all you do is act like a brat. you're all bark and no bites! if only you were like your big brother. " your step mother shouts as she stands from her seat.

" bark and no bites? " a shadow came over her neck, holding her up slightly away from the ground.

"h-h-help me dear, " she calls for your father as she tries to grab his shoulder.

" drop it, y/n. " your father says.

" yeah, stop it, " your big brother speaks.

the shadow disappeared, dropping her to the ground. she wraps one hand over the place where the shadow was at, little did she realise there was a burnt imprinted left.

" are you sure, you still want to marry that mad witch? she nearly took her mother's life! " your step brother says, as both the step siblings rushed to their mother's side.

" she's not my mother. " you mumbled out loud.

" I don't care, what she does. even if her hands are bloodied. even if she'll kill me. she's mine and I'll still love her. " kaldo takes your hand to plant a kiss, turning over to look at them all.

" let's go, " you say to kaldo as you both took your leave.

walking around the now empty streets, it was already late into the night. you didn't feel one bit of guilt, the glass cut healed immediately after you left. you held kaldos hand eversince you left the house. he didn't want to let go and wished you didn't pull away. now, standing on a bridge. the soft water noises, wind blowing, prettily lit starry sky. you can't help but be drawn to those.

" sorry, " you apologise as kaldo stands closer to you, shoulder to shoulder touching.

" that was a hell of a dinner huh? " you start, sighing. if your real mother was still around. she'll definitely embrace you like she always did.

" don't be sorry, I'd kill too if I had to keep up with all of that till I'm finally free from those horrors. she hates you because you look so much like your mother, " he places his other hand to your cheek. stroking it slow and tenderly.

" no I mean, sorry for making it seem like we'll marry. unless you really want to, " you placed both hands over your mouth.

" HUH!? so you don't intend to be my lifelong partner? were you going to marry orter and prove them right? " he babbles as you laugh, putting your hands by your side.

" I really love you, kaldo gehenna. " you confessed, his eyes shot open and his eyes met yours, so full of love and adoration.

you lean close, nose brushing against his as you shut your eyes and give him a kiss to his lips. you feel his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer.

pulling apart, to catch your breath. you don't fail to notice his silghtly red face and the soft smile that doesn't seem to go away.

" I promise to be your sword and shield. I vow to be yours. I love you so much, " he takes your hand to his lips, placing a kiss as he drags you along.

" say, if we're together. can we skip the dating parts and just get married? " he says as you can see your house draw closer.

" yeah let's just get married, we've already known each other quite long too. "

" great, the wedding will be next week then! " he cheers as you unlock the doors of your house. you gave him a soft smile as you gave him one last kiss to the cheek before bidding him goodbye and a get home safely.

kaldo couldn't sleep that night, he was over the moon. the girl of his dreams finally said yes to him and had felt the same way as he. he couldn't help but call ryoh that night, gossiping the night away. ryoh too, was so happy for the man but gods he wished he'd shut up. he was tired from work and was looking forward to cuddling the night away with his wife.

" please free me. I have a wife to attend to, " ryoh mumbles out loud, catching the flame cane off guard.

" my, its so late well see you tomorrow and thank you for lending me a listening ear, goodnight ryoh. " he hangs up momentarily, forcing himself to sleep.

the next day as he walked to your office, he heard yours and orter's voices. he decides to wait by the door as he eavesdrop on the conversation.

" after the dinner, your sister called me. she said it was a disaster and they were expecting you'd marry me but you chose kaldo? " orter was leaning on the door, arms crossed after the other as you sat by your desk.

" you wouldn't want to marry me either. besides I just can't imagine you as the father of my children. I want a guy who knows how to wow his kids! " you laugh at the idea of kaldo being the fun parent.

" i see, you're all grown up now. well if there's anything I can help you with, let me know. I might even babysit them once or twice. " he offers, pushing his glasses up his face, not failing to notice the smile on your face.

" what a great best friend you are! do you want a hug? " you beamed as orter pushes himself off the wall. remembering the last time you gave him a hug, it was bone crushing. you managed to manipulate and manifest his shadow into 3d! making that give him a hug.

" no, " he opens the door as kaldo pretends he's just got there.

" get back to work, don't just flirt with her all day. " orter scolds as kaldo sighs, handling him the coffee he prepared for you. he'll just come back with a better and sweeter batch for you he thinks as he walks away dreadfully. he hears you laugh as he walks away, making a smile crawl up his face.

[patchiko]

What ifffffffff AK! Jason with an s/o who's like the overworked therapist friend? Also congrats on 90 followers! Hopefully it's 100 soon!

GOTCHU ANON, I FUCKIN GOTCHU. N’ we hit 100+!! Thank you so much!

While I am not an overworked therapist friend, I have experience with people in my life leaning on me as an emotional crutch so I’m gonna do my fuckin’ best for u anon.

also reminder to set healthy boundaries for yourself, you’re not a bad person if you aren’t capable to handle someone else’s mental and physical problems. If someone ever gets mad at you for not handling THEIR shit, please know that it is not a good person and you are not wrong for cutting them off or setting boundaries with them. anyways—

AK!Jason x “Overworked Therapist” Friend as an S/O

SFW Drabble + Headcanons

You had just gotten off an three hour long call with a friend, deciding to make some pancakes. You leaned back on your counter as you set two pancakes on the pan and pondered. Your friend was going through a lot, a break-up seemed like the end of the world. But you understood that. Thats why they confided it all in you. You could understand and advise when needed. The physical toll, the constant conversation filled with overwhelming emotions, the never-ending turmoil other people always seem to stick you in, one after another. It made you wonder at times, if understanding, if being able to put yourself in other shoes, if being able to see at different angles, if being able to see every detail in a never-ending portrait that is someones life, is it worth it? Would it be easier to close your eyes, to turn off your phone? Is it worth? Losing the beauty of understanding, of being able to see the finer details that most seemingly can’t quite pick up?. Is it a burden to bear but a blink of someone’s life?

Oh shit!

Jason snapped his fingers at you twice while walking to the stove. You hadn’t even notice the burning smell of the pancakes that Jason was now flipping. “I don’t get it.” his husky voice was flat. You could tell, he wasn’t mad or upset, genuinely confused trying to wrap his head around something— oh the pancakes!

“Oh, I was spacing out and lost tra-“

“Not the pancakes.” He paused for a few moments, eyes furrowed as he thought to himself before speaking once more. “You work yourself off just by talking. I can see how tired you are after talking to someone about whatever bullshit they’re going through.—“ You always had noted that even if he spoke vulgarly he didn’t necessarily have aggression towards the topic. ”—You analyze over, then over, until you get it. Shit, you’ve probably thought to yourself something about me while I’m talkin’.”

Oops! He gotcha! He turns to you and reaches above your head for the cabinet with plates in it. “I don’t get why.” He said again flatly. He was closer to you breath just skimming your skin, but he really was just there for the plates lol. He took one then turned away, plating your two burnt pancakes with the one that looked a little undercooked, one that he made. Also noted. You took them and you murmur out your response,” I can’t just leave them, you know, they really feel safe with me and I can’t just blow them off randomly-“

“—Why not? They don’t do the same for you, some of them don’t even listen to your advice, and they don’t even fuckin’ pay you.” He attempted to sound humorous in that last one, but it his tone was still flat. He really did try though. You respond,

“The same reason you’re doing it for me, you care—“

“—The difference is, you do it for me too. So I do it for you, because we both..” his voice sounded endearingly soft spoken ”..care about each other.” You both paused, he was looking off to the floor leaning back on the counter across from you. “Listen, fine, I get it. You, care about them. But it’s taking a lot of your energy and time. So like, I don’t know fuckin’ pace yourself or somethin’.” He crossed his arms. “I hate— I don’t like to see how you get when people dump all of their shit on you. It’s not fair.” He was right. It wasn’t fair. Countless hours of you being up late because someone decided to keep you up with a dilemma, or someone making you late to something, you skipping meals cause your just too damn tired to move after coming home from someone’s monthly mental breakdown. He was right. It wasn’t fair. He stood up straight, his arms and legs crossed ‘Mean Girls’ style ,”Or I’m gonna start hanging up those calls on them in the middle of it. Thirty-minutes max or you’re charging.” You started giggling, trying to explain how he can’t do that in-between laughs. He smirked,

”Uh-huh, I will. Card only too.” He walked over to you, taking your emptied plate from you and putting it in the sink besides you. He propped himself up and looked into your eyes,”Just… Take it easy.” He reached for your hand, making a grabby motion at it. You place it into his scarred palm, his big ole’ hand making your hand look small. He took it softly and brought it to his lips and kissed softly. “Please.” He spoke softly again, voice cracking a little too. You nod, promising to find a way to get a even ground on it all instead of being overwhelmed with every call, text, conversation, you promised.

THE RED HOOD pulling up to someones house cause they won’t stop emotion dumping to you IK ITS A YT SHORT BUT ITS THE ONLY LINK I COULD FIND PLS SPARE MEEE — “Run yo’ pockets’ 😭😭

genuinely upsets him

He’ll still cook for you if you find yourself too tired after a that thirty minute call.

cause ong he wasn’t lying about hanging up.

had you lying to someone talkin about some..

‘ommgg sorry my phone died. 😭😭’

HE MEAN BUSINESS !!

He just hates how overworked you get, especially doesn’t like when he’s at a low moment and he already knows your overstressed and still comforting him.

JASON comin’ for that damn phone as soon as the call hit 30:01

HE DEF BE LISTENIN TO THAT DRAMA FR THO. MF LISTEN TO THAT SHIT LIKE A PODCAST. FACIAL EXPRESSIONS N’ EVERYTHING. 🙄😐😑😮😵‍💫😤

i had fun writing this. i need ak jason wtf☹️

PSPSP INBOX OPEN IF U WANT MORE! RQ SOMETHING! OR JUST YAP OG!

[sitp-recs]

you got me hooked on harry x teddy !!! ive, hand on my heart, never before even considered that ship as a possibility and here i am now swiming in fresh waters of moral deprivity. much appreciated <33 a whole new batch of previously undiscovered fics just opened for me wohoo

on that note, could you please rec some of your favorite harry x teddy fics? thanks <33

ahhh I’m so very happy to hear this anon! I live to serve the small but mighty Hardy nation so I’m feeling very accomplished right now. hopefully I’ll convert even more readers into moral deprativity one fic at a time 😌 here are my top favorites, a special shoutout to LQT for their service as always 🫡 I also got a Tedrarry list if you’re interested :)))

grasp by onbeinganangel (E, 1k)

Teddy has wanted Harry forever. Of course he wants to be good for him.

Love is a Verb by @wolfpants (E, 1.7k)

The summer after Teddy graduates from Hogwarts, Harry takes him on a trip to the remote beaches of Land's End.

Coming Up for Air by @lqtraintracks (M, 2k)

I could have died of it, your tenderness toward me. Instead I decided to live.

so slide back down and close your eyes by lqtraintracks (E, 3k)

When the magic goes out at Harry’s place, and no one can get home, and it’s cold as a witch’s tit outside… well, what else are you going to do?

Beneath a Foreign Moon by lqtraintracks (E, 3k)

Harry visits Teddy in the middle of the night.

Simple As It Is, Complicated As You Need by lqtraintracks (E, 4k)

It's not something they do often, this whole 'Daddy' thing. But to be fair, they don't even have regular sex as often as Teddy would like either. It's not as though they've even admitted they're doing anything. One of the benefits and curses of both of them being Legilimens actually: Nobody ever has to talk.

Surface Texture by @the-starryknight (E, 5k)

I've drawn a hundred portraits, but none quite like Harry's. In the early hours of the morning, I lay him bare in charcoal and paper.

Waiting Under Vain by supergrover24 (E, 5k)

Teddy wants to know how sex really should be. Harry can't resist, no matter how much he tries.

When It Alteration Finds by lqtraintracks (E, 7k)

Teddy thinks this is the way to finally get what he wants. But there is more than one way to Harry's heart.

Holding Out for A Hero by @writcraft (E, 7k)

Even as he says no, Harry’s hands push into Teddy’s hair. Even as he protests, his lips connect with Teddy’s. Before Teddy can offer any reassurance his heart’s thumping wildly in his chest and Harry Potter’s kissing him as if there’s no tomorrow.

Seven Years Gone by suitesamba (E, 7k)

Seven years after his partner’s death, Harry has rebuilt his life with his friends’ help, but hasn’t managed to move forward romantically. Teddy Lupin, 28, is back in London for good after years of studying and working abroad. When he finds himself in need of some extra space at his new shop, he consults with Harry and Hermione, who have built a successful business around creating Wizarding Space.

Game, Set, Match by Writcraft (E, 13k)

Teddy is smitten, Harry is lonely and tennis seems like a great way to avoid dealing with this thing between them.

Putting Out Fires (with Gasoline) by lqtraintracks (E, 13k)

Teddy stays with Harry for a summer to help him figure out his life, or maybe to figure out his own, or to seduce his godfather, or maybe to fall in love.

Darling, Don’t Think Twice by @shiftylinguini (E, 18k)

Leaving the Aurors, and then England, after his divorce with Ginny was finalised was the best thing for Harry, and for Ginny, too ― but not for the godson who worshipped the ground he walked on. Now that he’s back, all Harry wants is to set up his own place, and to spend time with Teddy as he tries to fix their fractured relationship.

Bonus: a Drarry fic with some Hardy kissing

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?).

[swissmissficrecs]

Johnlock fics I read in 2023

This is everything I read in the Sherlock Holmes fandom last year that made it into my bookmarks. So while I may not have read enough to make a selected "best of" list, consider these the ones that made it past all my internal selection criteria and are deserving of a spotlight. A few of these were completed prior to 2023.

A Case of You by Silvergirl (17K, M, Johnlock, Sherlock/OMC) Sherlock is marrying an American, and at the rehearsal dinner, best man John makes a drunken love confession he doesn’t remember the next day. Badly hungover, John can't find anyone to tell him what the hell happened to the wedding, where the grooms are, or how he can put it right so that Sherlock can be happy. But what if he's dead wrong about what will make Sherlock happy?

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (16K, T, Johnlock) It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

A Story That Is Almost, But Not Quite, Entirely Unlike Blue Carbuncle by Iwantthatcoat (16K, M, Johnlock) It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and the Holmes Family is all set to have one of those unimaginable Christmas dinners— but the game is afoot, as Mummy’s friend is caught up in a Christmas mystery.

An Elegant Solution by ArwaMachine (19K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock finds himself unspeakably aroused by the idea of John with another man. Problem is, the only man Sherlock will permit be with John is Sherlock himself. Seems like an unsolvable problem. ... or is it?

An Ocean Away by westernredcedar (14K, T, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes has been gone for twenty long years, time enough for John Watson's daughter to make it all the way to Harvard University.

Avast Ye Merry Gentlemen by StellaCartography (10K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock is not a Christmas person. John decides it's Christmas that needs changing.

Bright Blue Ink by 13_33 (13K, G, Johnlock, Warstan) When one of my patients asks me about my relationship with Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, I answer this: I am his chronicler, his assistant in solving crimes, his confidant and friend. Of course, all these terms hold true, now as then, at the beginning of our shared history. But just as in a family portrait you can only see the put-on smiles and never the real faces of the people, they were only part of what made up my true relationship with Holmes. I know him, I then add; I know him well. [ACD]

Deductive Reasoning by cormorant (8K, T, Johnlock) John finds out that Sherlock has assumed for a while that their relationship was romantic, and feels like maybe he should have been notified about that.

Doting Husbands by Calais_Reno (16K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock takes on a new hobby: writing a story. If only something would happen! Takes place a year after the ending of Wooing Sherlock Holmes. He and John have been married for a year, still retired, living in Sussex.

Full Mount by ArwaMachine (54K, E, Johnlock) After Sherlock unceremoniously returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he does what any emotionally-constipated British man does: he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John throws himself into the sport and joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine (298K, E, Johnlock) When two lines, inclined towards each other, are extended indefinitely, it is inevitable that they meet. Upon meeting, the lines become something new. Together. Perhaps it’s been like that from the beginning for Sherlock and John—their lives weaving together, inclined towards one another, moving closer and closer to something greater than themselves.

Live from the Morgue by disfictional (8K, E, Johnlock) Molly interviews Sherlock on her podcast, Live from the Morgue. John listens.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (68K, M, Johnlock) After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only consists of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

Nightjet by khorazir (22K, M, Johnlock) Officially deceased for eighteen months and still looking for the last remainders of Moriarty’s criminal empire, an exhausted Sherlock boards a night train in Germany to bring him to his next hunting ground. Due to a mishap with the sleeper cars, he is forced to share a compartment with a stranger – who turns out to be not quite as strange as Sherlock thought. The universe isn’t lazy, after all …

Nothing to Celebrate by DiscordantWords (30K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead. Things only get worse from there.

Our Ghosts And This by LipstickDaddy (12K, T, Johnlock) An epilogue in three acts.

Primavera by Berty (9K, T, Johnlock) Italy in the springtime is as romantic as it gets but is it enough to free unspoken words and feelings after years of silence?

Salut d'Amour by ecoutes (11K, G, Johnlock) Despite Holmes claiming that my narrations of our cases were tainted with sentimentality, his preferences in music, I learned, were awfully romantic. [ACD]

Spare Parts by Raina_at (63K, E, Johnlock) Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them.

stirringofbirds between my arms by NotusLethe (18K, E, Johnlock, Enola/Tewksbury) Over the years, John Watson gets to know his new flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, and the man's clever ward. [Enola Holmes]

Stretch by illwick (13K, E, Johnlock) Sometimes the lines get blurry. [Part 35 of a BDSM established relationship series]

The Adventure of The Reluctant Docent by mydogwatson (23K, T, Johnlock) Someone is killing the docents of London. Sherlock is on the case when he meets a very interesting docent.

The Case of the Freudian Dick Pic Slip by expoduck (11K, E, Johnlock) John accidentally sends Sherlock a dick pic he'd intended for another man.

The Mystery of the Missing Metallurgist by rudbeckia (14K, M, Johnlock) A young wife engages Holmes to find her missing husband. Lestrade thinks the man has absconded to America, but Holmes rises to the challenge of Proving Lestrade Wrong. The case turns out to be far more complex and dangerous than they first thought, and Holmes sends Watson to secure Lestrade’s help in bringing a criminal gang to justice. When Holmes gets injured, Watson realises where his heart lies and a little lighthearted banter leads to a tentative confession. [ACD]

The Silence Between the Notes by J_Baillier (44K, M, Johnlock, Viclock) Lieutenant John Watson's days in London are painted in shades of grey after losing both his military career and his family. Could an unexpected request to travel to Vienna to track down the errant son of a wealthy family break the monotony?

The Wizard of Baker Street by Calais_Reno (23K, T, Johnlock) In which Sherlock is a wizard under a curse and John spends a lot of time as a cat.

‘tis the damn season by chrysanthemumsies (22K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John travel to Edinburgh to catch a homophobic serial killer in time for Christmas. They figure out how to use their words, more or less.

Trapezoid by SilentAuror (27K, E, Johnlock, OMC/ OMC) Corey Graham invites John and Sherlock to visit L.A. to consult on a project… at least, officially.

Yorkshire by lurikko (8K, E, Johnlock) They're in Yorkshire, in a house in the moors, for a case, only Sherlock keeps touching John. [Omegaverse]

[amemenojaku]

quick write-up on Q by Diao Ye Zong after a full listen of the album + the bonus content

(spoilers: it's really good. buy it)

I've skipped some of DYZ's releases in the last few years like Shirushi/Mukui/Atsume out of lack of interest, so it's very possible that I missed a hidden gem, but anyway I think Q is their best recent work. It's as good as Hohuri or △ imo (and Hohuri is like. my favorite DYZ and favorite doujin music album overall so.)

Agatha ChrisQ suddenly and completely disappears, shrouded in as much mystery as when she started releasing novels. The narrator sets out in search of the truth through 6 of ChrisQ's unpublished murder mysteries, each a reflection of their writer's feelings.

Q is a seed // Q is an outcome - Waiting to germinate into fantasy // Imposing the results of your ego on all.

It is, of course, a must-listen (or must-experience, rather, since it's not limited to music) for any Akyuu fan, but I'd also recommend it to fans of DiPP, Umineko specifically but mystery novels in general, and interactive fiction (there's branching endings). Oh and yuri. Akyuu/Kosuzu has been a fairly recurring pair in DYZ works (I can think of at least 5 songs off the top of my head, that's recurring to me lol) and this is no exception.

The album is gorgeous, jewel case and booklet and everything, all B&W with beautiful arabesques and elegant lettering and the occasional lines written in red. Hanadahyou's art is even more gorgeous than usual in the lyrics booklet (and if you've ever looked at a DYZ album you know the booklet is part of the experience)!! I love the small detail of the page with Akyuu's portrait, not the one with ChrisQ's, touching the page with the picture of Kosuzu and Akyuu as children...

The tracks are very good, pleasant to listen to from beginning to end (in my case there's just one I have a problem with because of the singer's voice... T_T lol). If I had to pick just one it'd be the Kosuzu song, Imaginary Friend (spoilers in the translator's notes), obviously everything in it makes me want to cry and scream and bash my head into a wall but ESPECIALLY the line where 'it was love at first sight' and 'I set upon you all my fantasies' are both said at the same time in the most beautiful wordplay I've seen in a while.. I also really like the Hieda servants' song (Murasaki Hotaru's voice <3) and the Reimu song is super fun (there is no way Reimu holding a knife next to Marisa's body in the booklet art isn't a nod to the reimari songs from Hohuri - and with the Birlstone Gambit theory referenced in the song itself, well...). But even then all the other tracks are interesting too. Very solid album.

And then there's the secret bonus content. I will only say that I love both choices very much but Imaginary Friend -> My Beloved Q did permanent damage to my heart <3 <3 <3 (suffering

ANYWAY, if any of this sounded intriguing to you then Q is absolutely worth the money! So go support the artists!! The regular version without the secret content will probably end up for free on spotify at some point (edit: it is now, including the last two secret tracks), but in my humble opinion it's one of those DYZ albums that are 1000% better if experienced with a real hardcopy of the CD because of how high-quality the product is, the gorgeous art, the bonus content etc... Personally I am never getting rid of my copy it's just SO beautiful.

[vonnart]

XXXIV - Annual Birthday Self Portrait 🎂 Here is this year’s annual birthday self portrait and reflection piece! Below are the previous ones i've drawn throughout the years!

This drawing reflects the last year of my existence and on my previous birthday, I had both the best day of my life and the worst. I had an extremely traumatic psychedelic experience where i was convinced i had died for the first 2 and a half hours. It was intense and surreal, making connections to what the afterlife was and it was like none of the religions or theories had taught us. It was just returning to matter, still conscious but unable to grasp reality or have any say or control. An unnerving feeling of numbness and the inability to function. After collapsing multiple times from the rigor mortis i told myself I was experiencing, I was confused why i could still see and interpret anything. After some processing on the floor, I made a mental shift and thought: “Maybe the afterlife was like a turnable dial and because I was afraid, it unintentionally turned it a bad direction”. I was clearly in a negative plane of existence so I turned this mental dial in a more positive direction. “Maybe the afterlife is whatever you want it to be.” So I entered into what i thought was a projection of my own idea of what heaven was.

Almost instantly, I felt the sensation of unrivaled elation. I wasn’t at the pearly gates, an astral projection amongst the stars, or a foggy cloud representing a soul. I was still in my body and everything around me looked normal, which oddly seemed strange. “But why would i be in my house?" Maybe my mind is still processing being dead so instead it’s projecting what is familiar and comfortable OR OH maybe because heaven is wherever you would want to be the most! And this house is literally my favorite place on earth. And then I saw my bf Josh and wondered “Why would Josh be here when i could make any celebrity or crush I've had in my life to be the projection of a guide in this afterlife?" OH okay, because there truly isn't anyone I would want to help me through the early stages of accepting what’s after death!

This pattern of thoughts and answering them in my strange sense of being keep on a loop for about 5 hours and letting go of each physical attachment to the world was euphoric. No more fear of having to make money, keep up with work, pain or stress, worries about war or the state of the world, and most importantly, never having to fear dying again. I had never felt this light before. I let go of all of it completely and somehow, at the same time, felt incredibly connected to everything in a way that I can’t quite put into words. And the best part is that I kept reminding myself that I get to feel this feeling forever!!

Later that night I wanted to see if you could nap in the afterlife, and when I opened my eyes, I no longer was in that dream state. I was horribly confused and conflicted. I was actually disappointed I was still alive as that projected afterlife was the most beautiful sensation I may ever experience. The weeks that followed became a constant fear of questioning reality and developing pretty bad insomnia. I was afraid of learning that I still might be dead but I couldn’t have any way to prove it. It ended up being rather painful for about 4 months. My friends, family, and parents really helped ground me back to earth and I am so thankful for them. I’ve been reading a lot of books that explore consciousness and it’s been helping immensely.

So now, I feel like I’m seeing the world again for the first time through fresh lens of perspective. Being alive is the greatest sensation that I was taking for granted. I did develop my first actual fear in life, and like many, it’s the fear of dying. And that feeling is so strong because I enjoy being alive SO much, I really, really love it! The ups and downs, the connections and lessons. Everything is so delicate and precious and I’m making sure to handle it better these days. Here’s to 34 and it’s pretty safe to say I’m looking to make it a more calm and peaceful one!

[fayes-fics]

Portrait: III

Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An evening session causes some leaps forward.

Warnings (for this chapter): nudity, flirtation, discussion of sex.

Word Count: 2.4k

Authors Note: Things are hotting up now ;)

III

Benedict is busy with family matters for a few days, so it is almost a week before you see him again. Unable to do the usual mid-morning time you had previously agreed, he sent word via messenger that he could do that evening only. Usually, on Monday evenings, your parents are home, but conveniently today, they are both out - your father on business, your mother on her social merry-go-round. So it is just you and a few staff members when Benedict arrives after dinner. 

“I wasn't sure that evenings would work, Mr Bridgerton,” you comment as he sets up his supplies, lacking a valet today. “I thought perhaps the light would not be sufficient,” you gesture to the various sconces and candelabras flickering gently. 

The room has some light, but it is very different from the sunlight he has been painting you in until now.

“It is perhaps less than ideal, but I will do my best. I preferred not to wait any longer to see you. To continue the painting, that is,” he rushes out. “I hope you do not mind my company so late in the day.”

“Nothing gives me greater pleasure than your company.” Your answer is honest and forthright, the late hour making you say things you otherwise never might. Perhaps the couple of glasses of wine you had with dinner are also making their presence known.

His eyes flash in a way that makes you unable to look away. Like that first time your eyes met across the gallery, your gaze on each other is almost magnetic. 

“Tell me something about yourself, Mr Bridgerton,” you implore softly as he begins to work. “I find our sessions can be entirely too quiet on occasion.”

He huffs, bemused. “I find chatter when I am attempting to paint somewhat distracting, miss y/l/n,” he supplies, “hence I am perhaps a little taciturn, but if it pleases you…. I am from a large family….”

“I know the Bridgerton family,” you interrupt, “everyone does. Yours is among the most prestigious families of the Ton, after all. I am interested in you. What makes you, you? Not what makes you a Bridgerton.”

He seems lost for words, and the intensity of his gaze seems even heavier. 

“No one has ever really asked me that before…” his voice taking on an unusual tone, just like it did yesterday when you waxed lyrical about his art. “Or at least none outside of my friends. To the members of the Ton, I am usually seen as a number in the family. The second. The spare.”

“I am certain you are so much more than that,” you respond spiritedly. “I have only spent a couple of hours with you, and that is entirely lacking as a descriptor of the man I see before me,” the wine is definitely loosening your tongue. “I would like to be considered a friend if it means you will share more about who you are with me?”

“I write poetry,” he suddenly blurts out, looking temporarily surprised at his admission, but pushes on. “I collect rocks; I am a good shot; I enjoy Pall Mall. I would like to be an artist.”

“You are an artist,” you interject, “if not, I wonder what on earth you have been standing there doing during our sessions to date.”

He laughs at your joke, adorable little lines crinkling the corners of his eyes, and again you feel filled with light. “I dabble, but I fear my work will never be taken seriously.”

“You just need more of a portfolio to showcase your wonderful talent,” you argue back. “And perhaps a few portraits to balance out the landscapes,” you tease gently.

There are a few moments of silence and shared smiles, but your glances are more heated, lingering, and unapologetic in ways they have not been before. Something in the air tonight speaks of inevitability—a shift in dynamic. The lateness of the hour lends something decadent to your session. Tonight, you don't look away as he paints; you keep your eyes on him.

“When I told you I had never painted a woman’s portrait before, I wasn't being entirely truthful,” he confesses from behind the easel, bending so his face is out of sight.

“Tell me more, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, the gentle teasing a growing pattern with each minute you spend in each other's presence.

“That is to say, I have painted a female. But she was by no means a lady,” his voice is laden with something dark, and your heart speeds up.

“What does that mean?” your voice curious.

“It means she was a lady of pleasure. In Paris. And… she did not wear clothes when I painted her.” 

All you can hear is blood rushing in your ears. You have the strangest compulsion to expose your body to him. 

“Is that how you would prefer to paint all your female subjects?” the bold question out before you can stop yourself.

“What do you mean?” 

You know he is being intentionally obtuse, but his eyes are visible again now over the top of the easel, and you are struck by his expression. He looks hungry, but not for food or drink—you want to bathe in it.

“Would you prefer all your female subjects be without clothes?” you meet his burning gaze, your lips tingling.

“Only if that is what they wish too,” he seems to purr.

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you stand up and walk over to the door, legs feeling almost stiff, flicking the lock and removing its key. You know his eyes follow you as you cross the room again, and he looks stunned as you walk up to him and hand the key to him. You watch him place it on his easel, and then you turn your back, presenting your dress buttons to him.

“I wish it,” you murmur. 

He makes a noise that sounds like a swallowed growl. Your whole being responds. You want him to strip you nude. 

“Miss, you are promised to another,” he wavers.

“One that I do not wish to marry,” you appeal over your shoulder, “please, I wish for this. So very much,” your last words are a pleading whisper as you turn back.

Victory crests in your blood as you feel a warm gust of air stir your hair, and then warm fingers land between your shoulder blades, sliding over each button, undoing them achingly slowly. He doesn't push you further; he just touches your back gently to signify the buttons are all undone. 

You walk back to the chaise and stand facing him as you push your dress down over your arms, talking the chemise with it. Heart pounding in every cell, blood running hot, your skin alive. Your dress hits the rug, and his inhale is sharp and musical.

The heat from the fire licks your bare skin as you stand there in just stays that hold your breasts up and out. You do not wear stockings or underwear; you thought it would be an illicit thrill for yourself to forego them in his presence. Something you thought he would never know.

You bite your lip and stare at him as you pluck the criss-cross pattern of laces across the front of your stays; glad you chose one you could undo yourself today. Each movement makes your breast bounce slightly, and you see his eyes covetously watching them. When his tongue peaks out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, you feel something happening between your legs, some wetness leaking there that you know he alone is responsible for.

As the laces give way, you pull the fabric to each side, exposing your chest, and there is a noise from the back of his throat that sounds so delicious you almost run to him and throw yourself into his arms. Instead, you let the material fall away on top of your dress. So now you stand before him utterly naked. Feeling vulnerable but so powerful all at once. His face is a maelstrom, desire writ large in his dilated eyes, a bloom of pink dusting high on his sharp cheekbones.

“Miss….” he begins, and it sounds like a harbinger.

“Sir…” you counter, and his large hand flexes visibly. 

The silence in the room is almost deafening.

“Paint me,” you offer over an exhale. “Paint me like your Parisian lady.”

He swallows audibly and reaches for a sketchpad tucked inside his portfolio. 

“Lay down,” his request is pitched low, and your knees go so weak that obeying seems the only path available.

You recline on the chaise, and although your heart pounds, you force yourself to look at him, awaiting further instruction. Your whole body feels flushed.

“Put your left hand behind your head,” he instructs, and you can do nothing but follow the command. “Beautiful,” escapes his luscious lips that you cannot look away from.

You yearn for him to cross the room, close the distance between you, touch your body, kiss your mouth. But he does not. He grabs a wingback chair, drags it next to his easel, and places his left foot on his right knee, balancing the pad on his bent leg, something in his stance so utterly masculine. He glances at you and then runs his charcoal in sweeping lines over the paper. 

“This portrait must not be hung anywhere,” you insist.

“It will be for our eyes only,” he assures. “I will happily let you keep it.”

“What if I want you to have it?” you posit and hear the charcoal slip on the page and a light curse under his breath.

“Then I would be quite the luckiest man,” he replies, his eyes fiery as he looks at your face.

“And what if I did not want to be alone in this picture?” throwing all caution to the wind, leaving no room for doubt.

“Who else do you wish to join you?” his voice cracking roughly, his gaze raking slowly down your body, so heavy you feel it.

“The door is locked, sir.”

“Don't call me that,” he hisses, more than a touch harried.

“Mr Bridgerton,” you amend, treating each syllable as a tasty morsel, letting your free hand stroke slowly down your sternum as you say it.

“Stop it,” he warns, sounding desperate.

“I don't want to,” you hiss vehemently.

“Have you laid with a man?” his voice is tremulant.

“Never,” you reply softly.

“But you know something of it?”

“Yes,” you admit.

“And you wish to know before marriage?”

“Only from you,” you confess.

“Fuck,” he mutters heavily, and it's the most arousing thing you have ever heard. “We… we should not…” he stumbles, the sketchpad very much left to languish unused in his lap now. 

“You do not strike me as one who plays by societal rules,” you appeal. 

“Indeed I am not, but...” he trails off and swallows heavily yet again.

He watches intensely as you let the hand on your sternum slip down the centre line of your body. You may not know everything about what happens between a man and a woman, but you instinctively need your fingers to quell the burning sensation at the apex of your thighs. 

“You are engaged to another,” he bites out as if he is reluctant to say it himself as he watches your hand trail over your belly.

“Do not remind me of my future,” you lament. “Let me live in this moment, for now. And if you will not touch me, teach me how to pleasure myself properly. So I may be able to keep myself at least partially satisfied in my marriage.”

The moan he makes is so carnal and wanton that your whole body shivers, your nipples pebbling, none of which escapes his notice. He bites off a curse again and closes his eyes, his hand trembling. Suddenly he tosses the sketchpad aside and rubs his hands down his face. When his eyes reopen, they blaze at you.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, y/n. But I cannot do this here, not under your parents' roof,” he answers through gritted teeth. 

You want to be impressed with his gentlemanly behaviour, but right now, you pine for him to be the opposite. To give in to the temptation that you can see him fighting.

“But….” and your breath catches with that one syllable. “...I think you should know; I will be insisting the last two portrait sessions be at my private studio—I have a scene curtain there that will make the perfect background to complete your portrait.”

You understand precisely what he is saying and not saying. The euphoric tide that races around your limbic system is better than any rush you have ever experienced.

“And I assume you cannot merely paint the background without me? My presence is very much required, is it not?” your ask is coquettish, your hand spidering circles around your belly button.

“That is indeed most correct,” a lopsided grin that causes butterflies spreading slowly and dangerously over his features.

“Then you may go,” you conclude quietly as the clock strikes 8 pm, standing and picking your clothing from the floor. “And I will see you there tomorrow morning.”

As you slip back into your chemise, he moves closer, so close you can smell his citrus and woody cologne, and he hands you a scrap of paper, your fingers brushing with a jolt of fire as he does so. It contains an address. “Ensure your parents and your fiance know this must be alone.” he intones. “After all, my very thorough artistic process demands it, does it not?” 

You are almost quaking as he moves away and picks up his supplies. You attempt to re-dress, but your fingers seemingly cannot fasten the buttons at the back, so you leave it hanging loose, praying that you don't run into any staff in such an unkempt state.

“And miss y/l/n….” he calls as he unlocks the door and leaves the key in the slot.

“Yes?” 

“...this evening, the sunset sky was scarlet red, so I expect it shall be a hot day tomorrow. I would suggest you wear your portrait dress and absolutely nothing more. I would not want you uncomfortable after all,” he rejoinders silkily with a wink as he slips through the doorway.

You know that statement had absolutely nothing to do with the weather or his concern for your comfort, and you have to grab the back of the chaise to keep yourself upright.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123

[ezrazone]

hello, huge admirer of your work & words in general

do you have any advice/ just thoughs for artists in their early 20s trying to make a living off of their passions in the current climate? i think you have very interesting perspective

thank you for the lovely message! i must admit though this entire question is made up of phrases i generally (but compassionately, not indifferently) shrug my shoulders at.

i’m never sure what to say to people asking for career advice specifically, especially people whose particular circumstance and desired field i don’t know. i’m also not sure what to say to anyone in their early 20s that has to do with that life period in particular, since it’s so different for everybody. i have good friends in their early 20s as well as comics students that age, but i don’t have age-specific wisdom for them since i’m not that much older than they are! my early 20s were spent beginning my transition and working a string of back-breaking jobs that i would happen to quit at precisely the right time to qualify for lockdown-era increased unemployment benefits (BERNIE BUCKS!!!!). remember how the united states showed its hand that it could use all the superprofits that it extracts thru blood all around the world to create a cushy welfare state for millions of people but only did it for a few months (partly because it sought to increase repression again after the george floyd uprisings)? anyway.... during that brief period of financial peace i was able to shape up my portrait skills and find the beginnings of my voice as a cartoonist. i wish i could gift that to everybody. every person deserves periods of quiet to figure out what they're doing. the truth is just that i got very lucky. so i'm not interested in being an aspirational symbol if anyone is under the impression that my advice can guarantee an artmaking practice that might resemble the one i have found for myself. i guess when i think about your phrase, "make a living off of their passions", i just want to reassure you that no matter your circumstances, the value of your passions is not dictated by your ability to make a living off of them. like let's just unpack the phrase "make a living" and pause for a moment to feel just a smidgen of how violent this cultural pay-to-play arrangement is. whenever possible, you should make money in whatever way will crush your spirit the least while meeting the needs that you have. my priority is always pursuing the maximum amount of freedom; sometimes that means freedom from losing my mind about rent every month, so i need to pick up a few shifts as a house manager at a local theater. sometimes that freedom means thinking about hot draculas the entire time i'm working at the theater. sometimes it means ending a project! i also really want to encourage every artist, if i possibly can, to attempt in their every day life and in their work to divest from the REAL CAREER vs. HOBBY psychic binary as much as possible. always. forever, until the distinctions explode. the truth of the matter, as i understand it, is not just that the best things in life are free or fucking whatever, but that the most meaningful ways you can spend your time do not necessarily involve deliberately optimizing your goddamn personal brand. you never need to be embarrassed about not spending enough time doing art, as if your status as an artist is paid for in any kind of labor that you can simply increase until the A in Artist becomes capitalized. to believe that would require a belief that everyone who is universally regarded as an Artist has simply worked hard enough. that's a myth and we know better. what horseshit! and as an adult i have also learned that periods of deep rest are often more enriching to me than periods of work. and even when i am employed up to my gills i am always cultivating the wise and endless spirit of a NEET. i am passionate about my art but i am also passionate about my life, and i welcome art in when it is actually viable and beneficial for me to do so. the only actual art-career-specific advice i will tell everyone though is: think bigger than fame as a protective suit (like, thinking that if you can just get a big enough audience you will be OK forever) and solo-written graphic novels (or whatever the "look what i did all by myself" equivalent is in your industry) and the fucking psychic wedgie that is relying on commissioned illustrations to survive.

there are grants that you can discover via many search engines that may allow you to fund the art career you actually want. do you want to teach? you get to teach. do you want to host reading nights? you can do that, too. i cannot tell you how much time i wasted trying to squeeze the things i was actually interested in into an "art career" shape that had little to nothing to do with what actually fed my life.

also: other artists are the greatest gift to all artists. your contribution to something is never diminished by another person's work. i think the best way to come back to this for myself as a cartoonist is to just initiate jam comic sessions (drawing panels back and forth to create one-page stories). little else brings me back down to earth as fast as passing a piece of paper back and forth with @tomb-of-madeline lol

i hope any kernel of this is helpful to you. i wish you the best on your journey, and i'd love to know what you end up making if we connect again anytime in the future.*

*there is no deadline to anything i have said here. you do not need to impress me ever and certainly not anytime soon.

oh and if you are a comics person i have a three-part lecture available to watch for free called experimental mini-comics for all! a lot of what i’ve said here is also there if only in spirit lol my attitude towards artmaking is fairly consistent in these regards

ezra

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Hiya! I am soooo happy you opened your request box cause I've been loving all your fics so far <3 Can I request a hogwarts legacy mc reader fic talking to a portrait of professor fig after the events of the game? I always think they game never acknowledged how upset mc would really be losing fig, like their expression in the funeral was so blank it was painful!!

A/N: Oh my gosh, anon! Thank you so much for being the first person to send me a request! I 100% agree with you, like I was sobbing during that scene and MC just scrunches their nose?! I honestly think this is my best fic, so please if you like it do tell me! <3

I Miss You

MC!Reader x Professor Fig (platonic!)

It had only been two months since you became the hero of Hogwarts. Only two months since the only father figure you’d ever had died. The professors had quickly commissioned his portrait, and for over a week now he had hung proudly inside the office of his Magical Theory classroom. You had yet to visit the portrait of Professor Fig. The upcoming OWLs, only days away, were your main excuse. That you simply didn’t have time. In truth, you were scared to confront your loss head on… no one could make you admit how much Eleazar Fig’s passing had affected you.

As you left an early morning study session, you mused about how difficult it would be for Professor Fig’s successor. They would surely know that they had big shoes to fill. You imperceptibly shook your head to yourself, whoever they were… you almost felt sorry for them.

Heading down the corridor towards the Great Hall for a well-deserved breakfast, you walked past the classroom you’d come to know so well. Suddenly, you felt rooted to the spot. It was like you were hit with your grief all at once. You realised what you were truly afraid of… the future, one you had to face without your mentor.

You needed to see the office. You needed Professor Fig. Gliding towards the classroom, eyes searching the corridor for anyone watching you, you slipped through the classroom door. Passing through the empty classroom, you cautiously opened the office door that you once used to bolt through. The confidence was gone, maybe forever.

It was difficult to miss the large painting hanging behind the professor’s desk, and your eyes instantly locked with his familiar brown ones. He gave a smile of relief, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. “Ah, Y/N. I wondered when I’d be seeing you. What brings you here?” You felt yourself welling up, and you balled your hands into fists to try and maintain some composure. His voice was like a drop of rain in the midst of the hottest desert.

“I just… I just need some advice.” The words tumbled out of you before you could think about it as you slowly stepped closer and closer to the painting. “The Hero of Hogwarts needing my humble advice? Sounds serious.” He spoke with a bemused tone. You jumped up to sit on top of his desk, hunching over to make yourself as small as possible, hands clasped tightly. Anything to stop yourself from breaking down. “You are… were a hero too.” You muttered under your breath.

“What troubles you, my young friend?” He looked at you with furrowed brows and a concerned gaze. He had never seen you so downtrodden before.

“Well, I don’t know… I guess just - everyone else has had five years to prepare for the exams. And I, well, I’ve only had one.” You rolled your eyes at yourself, almost feeling silly for complaining about it. “And you’ve done exceptionally well, you’ve surpassed any expectations that anyone had of you. Including me, and my expectations of you were already very high.”

“What if I’ve not done enough?” You questioned, deliberately looking anywhere except at Fig’s painting. “What if I don’t get the grades I need?” The painting shook his head with a lopsided smile. After all you’d accomplished, you still couldn’t see your true worth. “I know you shall. I’ve seen you work, I’ve seen your abilities. There is no doubt in my mind you’ll get at least Exceeds Expectations in every class.” You shook your head slowly, wanting to believe it but feeling like something was blocking you. A few moments of silence passed, the professor patiently waiting for you to continue, knowing instinctively that something more was bothering you.

“What will my future be? What do I want to be?” You looked up, staring directly into his painted eyes, desperately trying to remember his real ones. How warm they had been, how you could see decades of wisdom and experience behind them. “I’ve known so little about this world, and now I have to decide my whole future in it.” Your voice cracked as you struggled to keep your emotions bottled in. Professor Fig nodded his head sagely, and you knew he understood what you needed in that moment.

“You’d like my help to decide?” It was more of a statement than a question. “Help me prioritise which subjects to focus on.” A hand ran through your hair, then over your face. “I’ll need the best grades in subjects I carry to NEWTs… and those exams determine my career, right?” The painting hesitated, clasping his hands in front of him before humming in agreement.

Silence again. This time it was charged, heavy with words unsaid. You wanted to break the silence but didn’t know what to say. Technically, the Professor Fig in front of you wasn’t really him and as you chewed on your lip staring at floor below the painting, you were painfully aware of it.

“I think you should consider taking Magical Theory as a NEWT.” Your head whipped up to meet Fig’s gaze, eyebrows raised. “No… No, I couldn’t.” He frowned, his head tilting slightly. “Why not? We spent the whole year researching your own magic, I think you could teach the class yourself now.” He chuckled to himself, but the eyes that once sparkled when he laughed remained the same dull brown. Another reminder that things would never be the same. “Because… it wouldn’t be you teaching me. I don’t think I could stand it. Someone else standing where you should be.”

You stared at each other for a few moments before you broke the eye contact, lowering your eyes into your lap, your hands almost bleeding from how deep you were digging your nails into your skin.

“Y/N, I may never have taught you officially in my class, but you’ll always be my proudest achievement. I hope you know that.” He always knew exactly what to say, even when you didn’t know what you needed to hear. The tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them, and soon the floodgates opened and all the bottled emotions came seeping out at once.

“I miss you so much. I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.” Loud sobs echoed across the office, and a hand lay on your chest as you tried to fight the intensity of what you were feeling. “You taught me everything, I wouldn’t even be here without you. And now I have to continue on without my… father.”

The painting of the Professor looked shocked for a moment before he melted into a warm smile. If he could have hugged you, he would have. “I’ll always be here, Y/N. I know it isn’t quite the same. But the advantage of being a painting is that you’ll always know where to find me. I won’t be off on a week-long research project… or sent off on one of the headmaster’s silly errands.”

A quiet giggle escaped you, soon developing into a real laugh. It was brief, but it was time you’d laughed since he died. Professor Fig smiled down at you, pleased to see a glimpse of your old self again. You wiped away your tears, summoning a parchment and quill. “Okay. Let’s get down to business, shall we?” You announced with a true smile, one that the painting returned with a fond nod. It wasn't quite the same, but the painting would help you through your grief. You'd always have a piece of your mentor in your heart.

[theamityelf]

The painting is of Celeste's face, composed of many colors, in such short strokes that it almost resembles a mosaic, and yet still immediately recognizable as Celeste. Its dimensions are eight feet by five feet, and the sunlight pouring in from each window irradiates it with vibrancy. It instantly brought tears to Celeste's eyes the first time she saw it. And yet now, she has trouble keeping her eyes on it.

The painting is being hung high in her foyer– the first thing guests will see. The men hanging it are her valets. They're lean, strong. Their uniforms are tailored perfectly to accentuate their best features, and their handsome faces are slightly furrowed with concentration as they coordinate their efforts. No one who visits Celeste's mansion can ever help but to stare at her gorgeous house staff, and yet now, Celeste doesn't much care to look at them, either.

Her gaze keeps being drawn to the short, casually-dressed artist beside her. Angie is watching them hang the painting, holding her hands out in front of her with her fingers forming a pretend frame. She is barefoot, in shorts and a very paint-splattered t-shirt, and her hair is tied back in a ponytail that resembles the wool of a white sheep. Her head is slightly tilted, and her eyes are unfocused in that inscrutable way–

And suddenly she turns to look at her patron with serene smile. "Celeste must really like Angie's painting a lot," she says.

Celeste maintains a coy expression, despite feeling startled that she has been caught staring. "I beg your pardon?"

Angie giggles. "You've never hung me in the foyer before. You've kept the rest of Angie's paintings in the gallery, behind glass, with only the electric lights for company."

"Of course. The better to show off my collection to guests."

"I see, I see," she muses. "At least one of Angie's paintings gets to see the sun." The painter bats her eyes pitifully, accosting Celeste with the easeful prettiness of her probing smile.

Celeste affects a supercilious laugh and replies, "Paint another portrait of me, and we shall see where it goes." Hearing the double entendre in her own words, she adds, "There is space above the mantle, if your work merits it."

"So silly," Angie says, taking one of Celeste's hands between her own. (Celeste wishes she weren't wearing her lace gloves today.) "Painting a portrait of Celeste is no work at all! Will you come pose for Angie?"

"I, uh-" She loses her accent for a second, then quickly recovers it. "I am having friends over for spades, this evening. If you have need of a reference, I can be available tomorrow after teatime."

"Okie-dokie! I'll be sure to pray God closes Her eyes while you're gambling." A teasing smile, crinkling her nose and the corners of her eyes–

They're interrupted by the valets, asking Celeste if she's satisfied with how they've hung the painting.

"For now," Celeste answers them. "Though, if she paints many more, we may soon have to shift it a few feet to the left, to make room."

Angie's smile glows in the sunlight.

[ashwithane]

happy 5th anniversary, fire emblem three houses!

i didn’t have time to do anything super elaborate, but i’m glad i could at least make some simple drawings of how i looked when the game released vs how i look now. i tried to give them a similar vibe to the in-game portraits haha

rant below about my feelings right now because there’s a Lot to say! content warning for mental illness and childhood trauma 🫠🤙

as you can see in the drawings, i’ve come a long way in the past five years. when three houses first released, i was a deeply insecure high schooler who never dared to speak up or express themself. i struggled with self worth issues and had long since begun developing ocd symptoms as a result of the fear i had that there was something wrong with me, something i couldn’t possibly know or change but that everyone would see if i made a single wrong move.

throughout high school, and my adolescence as a whole, i had a hard time connecting with people. but when i played three houses, i connected with the story, the characters, the ability to replay it again and again and always try something new, change characters’ classes and find new paired endings and discover the little details i hadn’t noticed before. i was playing three houses the weekend after covid lockdown was announced, and i remember talking to one of my friends about this cool game i’d just started my second playthrough of. we laughed and talked about the game, figuring that lockdown would only last a few weeks, and then things would be back to normal.

lockdown was difficult for me, as it was for most people. but at the same time, not going to school in person meant i could afford to let my guard down. i could afford to unmask, and discover who i was when i didn’t spend every moment in fear of what others would think. and so when lockdown ended, i started college still timid, but somewhat more familiar with who i was inside.

and then, one day, a thought hit me out of nowhere.

“am i trans???”

and thus began the journey of self-discovery that was my first summer after college. i started using the name ashe, started using any pronouns and later switched to just they/them. i also finally got up the courage to tell my parents i wanted to get tested for autism, and came back with that diagnosis to explain almost everything i hadn’t had the words to understand before.

recently, my mental health has gotten worse. i got diagnosed with anxiety at the same time i got my autism diagnosis, but nobody told me i have ocd as well until earlier this year. things took a nosedive for me over this past school year—i stopped taking risks, barely left my college campus, barely allowed myself to put effort into social connections out of fear that i’d be forcing people to put up with me. but through therapy and medication, i’ve been working through those feelings, and the fears my brain internalized as a result of the way i grew up: feeling like something was wrong with me, but not knowing what. today, i feel pretty good! i’ve been having more and more good days, so i’m overall optimistic about what my future holds.

to bring this back on topic, fire emblem: three houses has gotten me through countless tough times, and has been immensely helpful in figuring out who i am. so in honor of the anniversary, i’d like to give a special thank you to the characters who have been the most important to me over the past five years.

ashe: i’ll start with the obvious. ashe is the character i stole my name from, so of course he will always hold a special place in my heart. in addition to that though, ashe’s earnest personality and commitment to doing the right thing is immensely inspiring to me. he proves that it’s possible to make mistakes and grow from them, that your life isn’t over after one misstep. ashe has taught me to never give up on doing the right thing, and being the best version of myself i can be.

felix: this list would not be complete without the scrunkly of all time! obviously i find felix to be a very compelling character and fun to write, but his significance to me goes beyond being a writing muse. i’ve often thought that i wish i’d had a friend like felix when i was younger, and even now—someone who would drag me into situations i found stressful and encourage me (in his own rude way) to have confidence in myself. someone who would have stood up for me against the people who treated me like i was lesser. felix inspires me to fight for what i want, his shield symbolizing the ability to make your own choices for what and who you defend. he reminds me that there’s no glory in being a martyr, and so i shouldn’t make my well being a second priority. i love you felix and i’m sorry i put you through the horrors regularly (but not sorry enough to stop).

marianne: it’s probably concerning to say i see a lot of myself in marianne. her journey is incredibly inspiring to me, especially now as i see that the past five years have taken me along a similar path to hers. marianne starts out thinking she’s too different from everyone else to deserve a life like theirs, and condemns herself to crushing loneliness all to avoid the possibility of her hurting the people she loves. and yet she learns to live for herself, realizes that her mere existence doesn’t cause any harm, and learns to embrace her right to enjoy life. i hope to have the same strength she does, so that one day i can reach that point as well.

linhardt: no joke, i realized i was neurodivergent because of linhardt. so many of his lines and support conversations made me go “ha, he’s so autistic/adhd coded!” i made these comments repeatedly, but i also kept noticing all the little ways in which i related to him. linhardt was one of many autistic people who made me go “huh, i do that too! what do you mean that’s not normal???” his character also serves as a reminder that it’s okay to take a break once and a while, and that looking after myself doesn’t mean i don’t care about others.

if there’s one thing left to say, it’s thank you. thank you to ashe, felix, marianne, linhardt, mercedes, sylvain, ignatz, hapi, yuri, hell—my oc rowan, all the characters i’ve connected with and loved so deeply over the past five years. thank you fire emblem three houses, not for being the only reason i am where i am today, but being a major part of it nonetheless. and if anyone’s still reading, thank you for making it this far, and happy timeskip! 🎉