#AND I’M OBSESSED

[lumieveeeldee]

Keith isn’t doing anything special when it hit him. He’s seated next to Krolia, peeling some strange alien fruit when his insides catch fire.

It starts in his fingers and travels up his arms, boiling his blood in his veins and freezing him over all at the same time. A presence in his head, one so familiar, a scarlet feline yowling in pain, in mourning.

Krolia is in front of him. Her mouth is moving but Keith can’t hear her, he’s deafened by the ringing in his ears and the pained caterwauling of Red throbbing behind his eyes, and his vision blurs—

Keith pitches forward, and the world goes dark.

~

He’s underwater, and he’s not alone. There’s someone else just up ahead. Their lips are blue and their face is slack. Their eyes are closed, and Keith can tell they’re not just sleeping. They are someone Keith knows, someone he loves.

Bubbles erupt from Keith’s mouth as he kicks his feet desperately, hands outstretched, reaching for the body suspended in front of him.

As soon as his fingers graze their wrist, they dissolve, and the world he finds himself submerged in shakes with a grief-stricken roar.

~

Keith shoots up with a strangled gasp, nearly slamming his head into Krolia’s. He’s back in the cave, he realizes, on the space whale, the Paladins light years away.

Red’s guilt and grief form a steady pulse in his head, and the realization crashes into him with all the force of a plummeting meteor.

He scrambles to his feet, ignoring Krolia’s worried exclamation of his name. The blood rushes to his head and threatens to throw him off balance, but Keith sprints out of the cave anyways, eyes burning.

Ever since his father’s death, Keith has rarely cried. He cried the first night in foster care, and he cried when Shiro was declared dead on the Kerberos mission.

That was it. He hadn’t even cried the second time Shiro went missing, because he knew he’d find him again.

Now, though, the tears burn grooves down his face as he runs through the foliage, not stopping until he trips at the edge of the riverbed where they get their water.

A sob rips its way out of his throat as he pinches himself, certain this must be a dream, because Lance wasn’t—Lance couldn’t be—

But the mournful wails of Red in his mind forced him to see the truth.

Lance was gone. Lance was gone, Lance was gone, Lance was gone.

~

He’s too exhausted and devastated to acknowledge Krolia when she approaches.

He’s on his side at the riverbed when she finds him, having long cried himself out. His eyes burn and his throat stings and none of it compares to the gaping wound that has been torn into his heart.

She doesn’t try to talk to him, just hooks her arms under his knees and shoulders and hoists him up.

Where there should be embarrassment and anger, there is only cold, endless nothing. She presses his head to her shoulder, and Keith barely registers that it’s happening.

She’s humming something as she walks, a tune that’s painfully familiar, but the memory is too far away for him to grasp.

His mother is cradling him. He hasn’t allowed himself to think of her as anything more than Krolia until this point, but he’s too hurt to further deny himself the comfort of his mother.

He thinks he knows why Lance missed his own mom so dearly, now, as he falls into a fitful sleep.

~

Red mourns for days, and Keith feels like a hollow shell that only has room for grief.

His days are filled with repeated movements and silence. He doesn’t talk. He wouldn’t know what to say if he did.

His dreams are filled with crooked smirks and freckles skin, and the image of hands gripping Red’s controls as electricity shoots from the dashboard into Red’s pilot, stopping his heart.

Keith can’t tell where his own anguish ends and Red’s begins. He can hardly tell that time is passing at all, each aching moment just an echo of Lance.

There’s an emptiness in Red’s presence, and Keith can feel it in himself.

Lance is gone.

Krolia doesn’t push him about it, and if Keith were anything more than an empty husk, he’d be grateful.

It isn’t until the eighth day of being stuck in his sorry state that Red’s mournful cries turn hopeful.

Keith freezes, and Krolia tenses beside him, hands hovering around him like she’s scared he might topple again. Keith holds his breath, feels the way the empty presence of Red suddenly becomes full again.

The energy is familiar, playful like the morning tide and comforting like the feeling of warm water sinking into aching muscles after a long day.

The energy is Lance.

Lance is alive.

Keith collapses backwards into Krolia with the force of his joy and shock, a tearful laugh slipping past his lips.

“Lance is alive.” Speaking the words into existence makes it feel all the more real, and Keith sags with relief, the wound in his chest stitching itself closed.

“Lance is alive.”

[sexymoonmansslut]

r.a.b

the black brothers pt. 1

[bleuarte]

Lord Esen in she who became the sun

And General Ouyang in he who drowned the world

[underkunimi]

i think luffy and law are the couple that just don’t care(they’re pirates)(also hear me out). like obviously at first, law is like ‘hey maybe not in front of our crews’ but then at some point, he just stops caring. not only are they connected by the hip, you can literally find one of them hoisted onto something or pressed against a flat surface with their tongues in each other’s mouths. luffy is absolutely insatiable and law kinda loves it. don’t go to the crow’s nest after dinner, luffy is in law’s lap practically devouring him. on warm nights, you might find law pressed against the railing of the Sunny or pressed against a door. on most days, luffy makes law sit up on the helm with him and they give each other kisses while watching the open sea. law watching luffy absolutely devour his meal and has to give luffy the absolute filthiest kiss ever. they’re on an island, luffy is dragging law to the nearest secluded corner or alleyway and shoving his tongue down law’s throat

[smilelikeanhyde]

“… Stardust…”

Tears made out of stars.

[elysianrey]

Can someone point me in the direction of their favorite Shatter Me fanart that’s not AI? Pls and thank you! I feel like I gotta be missing out on something here!

[imeaniguessthatsfine]

Gay weewoo show you have my heart 💕

[willkimurashat]

Mc: *tells whoever to go fuck themselves*

Andy: she has a very valid point☺️😄🥰😻😘🤭

*sigh* I love this man🥺

[ifyunhoyunho]

don’t even look at me this is the only thing i’m gonna be talking about for the foreseeable future

[cats-obsessions]

Dark Urge/Gortash

Just a Drabble I cant get out of my head- Durge is able to recover more of his memories along his travels back to Baldurs Gate, and Orin doesn’t bother telling Gortash that her kin has returned.

“Hello, Lordling”

The Dark Urge, Son of Bhaal, Nox leans back against the old, mahogany desk in his dear friend, Gortash’s office where he’s been waiting, ever patiently, for the tyrant to arrive.

It’s luxurious to a point Nox had once found gaudy, but the room gives him a warm feeling in his chest now.  Some parts of his memories echo through his empty brain as mere feelings and impressions. Some remain vivid, yet the bulk of what he could access shows glimpses of his life only in the months before Orin’s attack, but he knows they go deeper. Flashes of late night scheming, shared heists, interrogations, pools of blood, carefully plotted assassinations, then, the smell of avernus clinging to their skin amidst a first kiss. All of it went back to him- Gortash, not Bhaal. Not his fathers wishes or the Urge or even the temple. Everything in Nox’s empty brain was bringing him here.

He let his companions greet the new archduke on their own, but he watched from the shadows, the disappointment in Gortash’s eyes betraying the tyrant, but this was a meeting better had in privacy. The very same newly coronated archduke stands in front of him now for the first time in only the gods know how long.

“Fuck off,” Gortash grumbles, a tight frown on his face. The large double doors of the office swing closed behind him. As their eyes meet, Nox can see the extent of exhaustion that permeates the tyrant’s being. Circles much darker than usual shroud his near-black eyes. His hair had grown in the past two months, resting on his collarbones in disarray. Even the way he breathes sings of discontent.

Nox tilts his head, unmoving from his spot on the lord’s desk “Not the welcome home I was hoping for. I can understand your anger, but-”

“-Orin” the duke hisses sharply, “I have better things to do than this. As do you. Make yourself useful for once.”

Orin. Something in Nox’s chest sinks with the realization, “She’s been mocking you with my face? Gods- I’m going to kill that inbred little bitch the second I see her” he growls.

That earned a raised eyebrow from Enver, but the duke keeps wary eyes trained on his assassin “I’m not playing your games this time” he sighs.

“I assure you, Enver, I am not here to play games.”

Nox watches as Gortash moves across the room to his liquor cabinet against the wall, fine wood gilded in gold. The duke’s eyes stay trained on him, even as he begins to pour a glass of fine, amber whiskey. “Yes, yes, you will slash me in two, bathe in my blood, and what was it-” Gortash pauses to take a long, slow sip, sighing once again “-wear my intestines as a scarf? No matter- all the same, uncouth drabble with you.”

“Not until the end. And not like that. I won’t kill you until- unless we are the last two living in all the realm. First you, then me.” Nox clenches his fingers, his jaw tightening and untightening as he feels the images of Enver’s death set in behind his eyes. The Urge whispers for him to take the Banite now, but he knows better. He takes a slow, deep breath, reaching instinctively to the band around his wrist. He focuses on the feelings to ground himself for a moment before continuing. “I believe that was the promise I made you before- Well, things are hazy- a lobotomy does that to you.”

Enver stops, his glass half raised to his lips as his eyes widen. Nox can nearly see his thoughts, debates. He’s questioning if Orin could have such knowledge, if Orin could keep calm this long in a conversation, if Orin could push down her Urge. Nox gives a lopsided smile as he continues. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. I came back for you- to stand by you. As we are meant to be.”

It only takes a few seconds for Gortash to cross the room, his glass crashing into the golden tray below it, well abandoned; and Nox smiles, allowing his shirt collar to be grasped tightly in the duke’s hands. Gortash crowds his space, leering at him. There’s venom in his expression, but just below that lies hope.

“Prove it or die.”

How many times had Orin tried this? How many times did she dangle Nox in front of Enver? Did she pretend to return to him just like this? Or simply take his form to berate the tyrant lord? The thought makes the teifling’s blood boil. But he will save that rage for later.

Nox huffs out a chuckle, “If I were Orin, I would have my fucking dagger, and this goddamn tadpole wouldn’t be in my head, Enver.”

His words are enough, and Gortash yanks the collar of his shirt forward until they are pressed against each other, their lips colliding in a rough, forceful kiss that dissolves into desperation. For Nox, it’s familiar and new all at once as if he were acting out a scene he had only seen in a play; he knew Enver’s taste, his smell, the way he was rough and gentle all at once. Yet, feeling it rather than seeing it through a haze of lost memories and confusion was enough to make his knees weak.

“You have a tadpole in your head. You gods damned idiot.” Enver smiled against his lips, words devoid of venom. His hands move up to cup Nox’s face, warm gold of Gortash’s gauntlets pressing against his cheeks. “I have missed you so, my dearest.”

“I missed you, too.” Nox chuckles, and his cheeks warm up as if the words were meant to stay inside his mind- as if he was supposed to be ashamed by such thoughts, but the way Enver pulls him closer makes him think perhaps it is okay not to be ashamed about some things. Perhaps, whatever lingering worry circles in his mind from before does not matter anymore.

[dishgranted]

ryan bergara’s laugh. you agree. reblog

[chryza]

I mean yeah arknights flops sometimes but I would much rather play a game that attempts to tell an incredibly ambitious story and occasionally misses than a game that stays within the safety of a known arc without ever daring to take a risk.

[wyrm-with-a-why]

Megatron learning braille for when he breaks his eyes with the antimatter

[xoluvx]

💚🩷 .

[karmicgalaxies]

I haven’t touched my blog in a while so that’s my bad pookies, but tell me why the idea of something with a beauty and the beast theme with Logan just came to mind rn-

Or Beast himself. BOTH WORK IN THEIR OWN WAYS-