#Happy ending!

[spacebar2]

The silly tiktok trend.

Queen never cry 💜

(Characters, not creators.)

Queen never cry 💜

Queen do cry ❤️‍🩹

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hanma had a good birthday though!!! One he'll remember forever aww

[lizpaige]

i had a band au idea that idk if i'll ever write but i'll post it here 🙃 band is ronan (drummer?), hennessy (bass/vocals), blue (guitar/vocals), and new to the band adam (lead guitar) taking over from jordan who left to have a baby and also pursue art (declan is the stay at home dad in this universe). gansey is probs manager or something he's with them.

ronan is (true to canon) obsessed with adam from afar and adam maybe knows or thinks ronan is interested but he (true to canon) hates himself and doesn't wanna ruin their friendship/the band/etc but is having fun hooking up with people and having casual flings on the road.

so at a house they rented out for the few days they have off between shows, ronan is wallowing in the living room or whatever being a miserable bastard. hennessy and blue are pushing him to say something to adam or stop moping and then adam walks through the front door obviously after a hook up and its v awkward etc.

the big confession/smooch happens right before a show bc ronan never has good timing. he tells adam right before they are about to go on, kisses him, and then they're on stage and he can see adam processing, thinking too much from where he's sitting and its eating him up. they finally get off the stage and adam grabs his hand and pulls him off to a private room and shuts the door but he's not talking and ronan thinks he's about to get chewed out.

ronan says "adam?"

and adam kisses him.

[breannasfluff]

Too Little, Too Late - P3

Whump Rating: 3/5 (first paragraphs sad, then comfort)

TW: MCD (kinda), suicide, we reach the happy ending!

When Hyrule reaches Legend, there’s only dull apathy as he looks at Four, prone on the ground. Even from here, he can see the swelling disfiguring his head. He never should have let the smith walk away.

Legend sits next to him, running his hand through the smith’s hair. He doesn’t look up when Hyrule settles next to him.

“Are you hurt?”

The vet shakes his head. “Where are the others?”

“Dead.” Maybe he shouldn’t drop the truth like that. But Hyrule is numbing to everything. Too much has happened in too short a time.

“You’re alive.”

“Yeah.”

Legend finally looks at him. “You didn’t save them.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and curls over his knees. “I know.”

“What’s the point of all this? This journey? If this was the end goal, why did the goddesses send us on this journey?” Legend’s next words are as sharp as a blade. “Why didn’t you save us?”

“I tried,” he sobs. “I tried Ledge. I promise. I just—I’m out of magic and—

“Excuses.”

“What? No, it’s the truth!” He looks up to find disgust on his predecessor's face.

“If you cared about us, you would have tried harder.”

“I did! I did, I swear, I did!”

The vet pulls a knife from his hip and slowly turns it. The blade catches the light, reflecting back red. Then he offers it to Hyrule. “If you were a true hero, you’d remove yourself from the equation.”

Hyrule stares, heart sinking. “You want me to—” to kill myself, hangs unspoken. “You’d really ask me to do that? For, for not trying hard enough?”

Legend shrugs, still holding out the knife. “Your blood carries a curse, doesn’t it? Killing yourself is the least you can do. This whole battle?” He gestures at the field and bodies of the heroes, cast aside to lie with monsters. “This is all because of you.”

Shaking his head, Hyrule scoots backward. “No. No, that’s not true. Something is wrong with you; with this situation.”

The vet snorts and finally pulls the knife back. “Figures you’d say that. I can’t have my line continue to spawn such a pathetic excuse for a hero.” He fixes Hyrule with a glare. “You are a coward, Link.”

Then he stabs the dagger into his chest.

“No! No, no, Legend!” Hyrule throws himself on his friend’s body, even as it slumps into the grass. How many times has hot blood stained his hands today?

 “Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, it’s all my fault. I should have told you about the curse! I should have—look, there’s a lot of things I should have done, okay? Just, please, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Legend takes a ragged breath, face paling. He stares at Hyrule, disappointment thick. “Why didn’t you save us?”

Then his eyes roll back and he lies still.

“No, no! Legend! No! Please I can’t—I can’t live without you all! Please! Come back! Legend! Anyone! Please!”

There is no answer. Hyrule is alone.

Someone is screaming. There are hands on his shoulders and voices, but all Hyrule can hear is the screaming.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s the curse!”

“Hyrule! Snap out of it!”

“Time, what do we do?”

“Just hold him still so he doesn’t hurt himself! Wars, see what healing supplies we have!”

Hyrule tries to move, only to find hands holding his limbs in place. He struggles against them, but it’s hard to concentrate past the screaming. His throat is sore.

A blurred shape enters his line of sight. “Hang in there, Hyrule! You’re okay! You were hit by a curse, just try to breathe.”

The screaming cuts off as the traveler tries to follow the instructions. Oh. That was him screaming.

“That’s it, just breathe.”

“Here, I’ve got the potion!” Glass nudges his lips and he takes an obedient swallow. It helps settle the racing of his heart and he takes another.

“There we go. See? You’re okay.”

Hyrule blinks and the Chain shimmers into focus. Warriors and Time lean over him, surrounded by the rest of the group. Looking up shows Legend supporting his head in his lap. One hand gently pets his hair.

The vet smiles at him. “Hey Rulie, you back with us?”

Hyrule meets each of their eyes—alive and worried—and bursts into tears.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Legend curls over him, one hand cupping his cheek and wiping away tears. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“B-but I couldn’t save you and—and—”

“That’s just the curse. None of that happened.”

Hyrule continues to sob, unable to process the vivid memories still pulsing in his head. “I’m so sorry, Ledge. I never wanted to disappoint you!”

“You didn’t.” The vet plants a soft kiss on his forehead and gives him a gentle smile. “You’ll never disappoint me. I’m proud of you, Link.”

Despite the tears that still stream down his face, Hyrule tucks the words deep in his heart.

By the time Hyrule is allowed to move around, he’s hugged all the heroes at least twice. “I thought you were dead,” he sobs into their shoulders. “I couldn’t save you!”

“Nothing is getting me down!” Wind says, but all the traveler can remember is how scared the sailor was.

When Wild offers food he turns it down. The last thing he needs is to be sick. Curse or no curse, the memories flare bright in his mind. Blood, injury, agony—gruesome detail on replay.

It’s not real, he tells himself. It was just the curse. Somehow, it doesn’t help.

“Got space for a few more?”

Hyrule looks up from where he’s staring at his blanket to find Legend with his sleeping mat and blanket. He nods and the vet sets up his bed directly next to Hyrule.

“I get the other side!” Wild joins him, dropping his bedding on Hyrule’s other side.

The traveler frowns at the motion. Wild normally sleeps by Twilight, curling up into his wolf pelt. The champion shoots him a sunny smile. In hyrule’s memory, his throat gapes. No, that’s not real.

Sky is next. “No fair! I wanted to cuddle!”

“You get a head or feet.”

Sticking out his tongue at Legend, Sky sets up by his head.

The rest of the chain join him, jostling and grumbling to set up their beds in a circle around him. Hyrule finds himself completely sandwiched on all sides.

“Move over!”

“You’re shoving me!”

“Sky, your elbow is poking me.”

“Let me hold you, then.”

Legend is pushed into his side and, while he grumbles, he doesn’t move. One hand digs under the blankets to find Hyrule’s, squeezing tight.

The traveler squeezes back, running a finger over the ring bands within reach.

On his other side, Wild chuffs and burrows into his side, trapping an arm within his. Sky, with Four now clutched to his chest, reaches up and pats Hyrule’s hair. The rest of the Chain settle, most with a hand on Hyrule somewhere.

By the time their breathing is evening into sleep, he can finally let go of some of the lingering tension. With so many close bodies it’s impossible not to feel their hearts beat, their lungs breath, and life—vibrant and rich—in all of them.

Hyrule isn’t trapped in a cursed vision. He’s here, with his family, tucked at the center like something precious to be protected.

No matter what, he will give everything he has to save his brothers. And in return, they will support Hyrule if he breaks.

He’s not alone.

[prismaticpichu]

ANGST TIME, folks! 🩸

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence/Character Death

Characters: Zack Fair, Sephiroth

Summary: Splayed, drenched black hair; blood-splattered cheeks and arms; a soaked, reddened uniform peppered with bullet holes—dozens of holes, maybe even more—each one leaking with coppery fluid that trickled onto the grass, staining the blades deep red, his lifeless figure crooked against a rich, gleaming blossom of crimson.

It was Zack.

(You can also read the fic on AO3 here!)

~

One Less Star

The world was titling

His body carried itself in a nebulous, drunken rhythm—his boots sinking, then lifting, then descending unevenly into the slanted canvas of earth, advancing him with liquid limbs.

 “…N-no.”

Whatever buzzing had been infesting his mind was a different entity now, honed into an eerie ring that tore like a blade through his ears, pulsing like a heartbeat as he waded on through the mud.

“…No.”

Every step was growing thicker, more difficult; his boots sank deeper with every footfall, deeper into the slush, leather treads now caked with a viscosity that glistened like oil under the jungle’s humid night.

“…”

He opened his mouth to speak, to utter the breathy denial that continued to shiver against his lips—

Masamune dropped, splashing in red.

—and the words died in Sephiroth’s throat as he stood over the body, almost reeling with the world.

Splayed, drenched black hair; blood-splattered cheeks and arms; a soaked, reddened uniform peppered with bullet holes—dozens of holes, maybe even more—each one leaking with coppery fluid that trickled onto the grass, staining the blades deep red, his lifeless figure crooked against a rich, gleaming blossom of crimson.

It was Zack.

The man’s knees were what sent him buckling to the ground, completely impervious to the arctic chill of bloodied mud against his clothes, his leather shape arching like a shadow against the bruised indigo sky. His lips parted in some ghost of a sound, but not enough to be audible—hardly even a whisper, a breath. It was  more akin to a throaty crack as he sank beside the young SOLDIER, whose life had been brutally extinguished behind his very back.

They… they were all dead, each and every one of them. Each and every one of the SOLDIERs that had attempted to gun them down, to bring them back to the chains he and Zack had unfettered themselves from only days before, was dead. Their bodies were strewn behind him—beside him—slashed down in bloody heaps or killed with magic; the latter had been what destroyed the helicopters, pillars of smoke still dancing in the air behind him, ballooning the thick scent of nature with ash and smog. 

And he… he had been so angry…

Trembling, Sephiroth’s hand felt bloodless as he lifted it from the ground, floating like a ghost across the darkened air, and gingerly placed it on Zack’s wounded chest.

“…No…” The word finally resurfaced on Sephiroth’s lips, a cold and frigid denial, shaking his head slightly as he felt nothing beneath his palm—no pulse, no song, no rhythm… “No, no, no…” His breath accelerated, sharpened, and he floated his hand from Zack’s chest to his cheek—cold. Cold and wet. Cold and wet and streaked… 

He had been crying.

Sephiroth would never be able to articulate the feeling that tore him asunder at that moment, that breathed unbearable gales of ice into his veins, that slashed and clawed and ate at his chest until there was utterly nothing left.

Zack hadn’t just been shot, killed in a matter of seconds with a round of bullets.

He had bled to death.

He had been forced to the ground, paralyzed in pain, and bled to death.

And Sephiroth had let it happen.

You belong to me, boy.

Sephiroth’s ears went numb at the voice, the bitter cut of memory.

Did you really think that you could just run away, Sephiroth? Did you TRULY think that you are anything without me?

Sephiroth’s eyes grew distant.

After all I’ve done for you, boy… After all this company and I have given you. You best believe there will be consequences for this disobedience—this selfishness! Now… give me your sword, boy.

Sephiroth’s free hand sank into the dirt, balling.

Do you know how disappointed your mother is no—

Red. Deep, blazing red. Everything had flared red when his blade came down, cutting the professor where he stood, red splattering onto his blade and cheeks and engulfing his world in a blinding inferno of Fury. He couldn’t hear a thing after the fire ignited, lost his twisted art, his teeth pulled back, his eyes needled, his hair dripping. He could hear nothing but the faint, squelching sounds of his blade cutting, and cutting, and cutting, and cutting, and cutting—

Only when he turned over his shoulder, sparing a single glance behind him, did he finally let the shredded resemblance of a body crumple.

And that’s when his world has turned to ash.

Absentmindedly, Sephiroth moved his hand to the back of the SOLDIER’s head, peeling his sopping form off the ground, still struggling to speak. Zack’s body was completely crumpled, contorted. It was as if he had tried to get up—to walk…—but had ultimately surrendered to his wounds, not a single Cure anywhere to be seen on him.

Not a single Cure… when Sephiroth had a mastered one.

“No…” Sephiroth finally repeated, this time in a breathy snarl, the poison and hate spearing into nobody but himself. “Please… please, no…” But his voice was quickly whittled down into cold, broken desperation as he brought Zack’s dead body into his lap, struggling to digest his shredded state, cradling him. “Please… Gaia, please… come back…”

His mind roared at him, saying that it was too late, that there was nothing he could do, that not even a Phoenix Down was going to restore a the rhythm of a stagnant heart. 

That didn’t stop him from trying.

Hazily, he lowered his head until it was mere inches from Zack’s, his temple pressing against his dear friend’s, stained silver falling against his face.

And his voice cracked.

“Please… please, I’m right here… I’m here now, Zack…”

His only response was an echo of his own words, whispering tauntingly through his mind from months prior.

You’re late.

Teeth gritting, his breath growing jagged, Sephiroth held his friend closer to his palpitating chest, his own heart selfishly hammering against one that would never throb again.

The only one alive amidst a massacre of troops.

“What if… what if they catch up to us…?”

Zack had looked quite small when posing that dangerous, frightening possibility, sheathing his sword with a slight tremor in his arm, sapphire eyes looking up to him in search of comfort. What remained unspoken between them was perfectly clear: Genesis and Angeal had had them to ensure their safety when hounded down, to cement their escape… There would be no one left after this to do the same.

And yet, Sephiroth wasn’t disheartened.

Dismissing his own weapon—the sword he had learned to master more than any other blade—he glided across Lazard’s old office to stand in front of the boy, his green eyes softening as he placed a firm, resolute glove on Zack’s pauldron.

And Zack had looked up at him, blinking with a youth and vulnerability that he had long thought to be smothered.

And he had looked down at Zack, his chest budding with a fondness and instinct that he had never experienced quite before.

And he gave a small, promising smile.

“Then I will protect you.”

Presently, Sephiroth’s hand slipped from his friend’s shoulder, wrapping around the back of his dampened back to hold him close, pressing his shaken expression in Zack’s hair.

“I… I…” Sephiroth nearly retched as he spoke, whispered. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

He didn’t know how long he kneeled there, repeating the words into his friend’s miry hair, unable to stop, unable to forgive himself. Time didn’t matter anymore; it had shattered, splintered into insignificant pieces. All he knew was that they had been close—less than an hour away from Gongaga, Zack had jubilantly alerted him—before the monstrous whir of a helicopter had intervened, had stopped them in their tracks.

Now… now what difference did time make, when they were never going to make it there together?

Sephiroth quivered against his cherished friend, nearly coughing, his throat too dry to even properly breathe anymore. He felt so numb—so utterly, wholly, unbearably numb—and the only thing his body could do was tremble, subdued into quavering silence. He didn’t even realize when it had started raining, the needles of liquid rolling dully off his back like unheard, useless words.

“I’m here… I’m here now…” It was all Sephiroth could manage to say, comforting an empty husk that couldn’t hear his voice, that would never hear his voice ever again. “I’m here…” He couldn’t block out the images, the sounds… The sounds of Zack’s weakened voice crying out to him, realizing he had been fatally wounded, crumbling to the ground… He didn’t know what his last words were, if not an anguished plea for help, trying to break through the inferno to no avail—unable to reach him… Gaia, oh Gaia… he couldn’t even hear his best friend’s voice… And he never would again… He would never hear his laughter, his jokes, his kind, caring comforts that somehow made everything in his cynical okay… He would never again play ludicrous games with him, or spar without rivalry, or look at the stars even when the smog shielded them…

You’ll love Gongaga, bud… You’ll see the stars every night!

Trembling, Sephiroth lifted his gaze, rattling slits looking upwards, searching…

The rain had extinguished every star.

Sopping hair wilted over his face as he looked back down at Zack, watching the rain roll down his cheeks, sending thin streaks of blood down his face like hellish rivers… like tears. Like the tears that he had once cried into his arms shortly after his mission to Modeoheim, when he needed someone close… When Sephiroth had realized for the first time that he was grateful to have him in his life, still by his side…

When Angeal was no longer there to look after him.

Swallowing, Sephiroth hazily glanced at the Buster Sword, only inches away from Zack… completely painted in blood, caked in mud, a distorted reflection of himself rippling in the reddened mirror—only it wasn’t distorted at all; it was the truth, a real reflection, a fact…

Because what kneeled in that reflection, his face masqueraded in spattered crimson, was a Monster.

A Monster…

You’re not like them, pal… Don’t you ever worry about a thing.

His breath hitching, Sephiroth buried his face back into Zack’s hair, holding his best friend close, the bittersweet truth whispering through the air like a ribbon of the Lifestream.

“At least… at least you’re with Angeal now.”

He’ll take better care of you than me…

.

.

.

.

.

“Breeeaaaakkkfassst in bed for the greatest Seph in the world…!”

Sephiroth’s eyes snapped open with a strained, serrated gasp, jolting upwards against his bed frame, viciously jerked back into  consciousness by the jubilant, ringing voice that had come from—

“Seph?”

—……….the doorway.

For a long, heavy moment, his eyes struggled to digest the world around him, the feline pupils throbbing as they adjusted to the sunlight gushing through the window, to the sight before him…:

The sight of Zack, alive and well, standing in front of his bed, a youthful smile melting off his face as he held a play of bacon, toast, and what suspiciously looked like at an attempt at scramblings eggs.

And Sephiroth’s breath finally began to quell.

“Sorry, bud,” Zack laughed, making his way over to the bedside with his lovely presentation, “didn’t mean to wake you. You just slept real late today, so I thought that I’d surprise you”—he smiled down at the food, placing it on his lap—”taddaaaaah!”

His heart still pulsing, Sephiroth’s eyes floated down to the food, only semi-digesting its presence as he swept a hand over his eyes.

“…Gaia.”

Zack’s smile arched into a gentle frown, noticing his unease. “Hey… you okay?”

“Yes—yes…” Sephiroth peeled his hand from his eyes, letting out a gusty sigh, turning his gaze back to his best friend’s with as much steel as he could muster. “…I’m fine.”

Zack studied his expression a little bit longer, unconvinced… and it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes softened with kind, aching sympathy, realization dawning on him like the early sun.

“…Another nightmare?”

Sephiroth’s lips parted, having half a mind to speak, to protest…

…Before realizing just how futile protesting would be, and responded with a vague dip of his head.

“Yes,” he admitted somberly, almost immediately followed by his best friend’s hand squeezing his bare shoulder.

“…Same nightmare?”

His hair wilting over his eyes, Sephiroth nodded.

…How many times had been now? Three times, four times? He had been plagued with the same horrible dream ever since they had arrived in Gongaga… since Zack’s parents had finished setting up his room for him, since he had stopped sleeping in a sleeping bag by his side. Of course he knew just how childish such a realization was… And the fact that he needed remind himself of what was real and what was his mind’s twisted Hypotheticals.

They had made it to Gongaga, trekking here from Midgar before their scheduled mission to Nibelheim… when he expressed his qualms about ShinRa, that he may desert, and Zack encouraged them to leave together that very night. They had made to the outskirts of the village before the troops had caught up to them… And they had survived—both of them. He hadn’t failed to protect his friend; he hadn’t been lost in anger, swallowed in fire… He hadn’t even been the one to cut Hojo down where he stood.

They had—

“Hey, bud. Look at me.”

Blinking, Sephiroth was brought back to the present by his friend’s soothing voice, lifting his chin, and he gazed into the starry sapphire eyes that no force in the world could ever hope to extinguish.

“…I’m right here, Seph. I’m right here. We made it.”

And as soon as he said it, Sephrioth knew it was true.

“Yes…” he finally allowed himself to smile, bathed in the warm sunlight of his Home. “We made it.”

[amethystheart2421]

I was gifted Moonseeker smut for Dirty Festivus! 🥹✨🥰🙌

[mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

Ya girl is back on her bullshit with some more lines from the Angsty McSadface fic (a.k.a lazarus rising).

In update news, I just have the final scene to write! Huzzah! And my lovely beta is ready and waiting, so all going well this should be up in the next two weeks. 😊

Enjoy?

“I’m taking some time off.”

Eddie nodded. “Considering you didn’t really take much time after the- after, I’m not surprised.” He pushed off the bench, turning around as he reached into a cabinet. “You had me scared, Buck, I thought you were going to say you were leaving us for good.” His words were full of relief, as if he had really been worried.

Which just made Buck feel awesome about what he was about to say next.

“Uh, about that,” he said, trying a laugh of his own that fell flat, strangled on its way out of his mouth by the iron band around his chest. “I won’t be- that is, I’m not-” Buck huffed, trying to find the right way to say it. “I’m not gonna be in contact with anyone. While I’m gone.”

If Buck hadn’t been looking at Eddie directly, he would have missed it. Eddie’s entire body tensed, spine stiffening and hand freezing mid-reach. And then, in a blink, it was gone, leaving Buck to wonder if he’d actually imagined it after all.

“No contact?” Eddie’s voice was calm and controlled as he crossed his arms. “What does that mean, exactly?”

[new-berry]

If you thought I could resist a joke like this you think very kindly of me. I appreciate that.

“What are the odds?” Phil asks him.

“Even I am unable to calculate that.” Unai says.

“Was that a joke?” Phil smiles at him.

“No.” Unai says. “The number of zeros isn’t reflected as a commonly used number.”

“Your banter needs work.” Phil says. Unai frowns at him and Phil grins back.

[girldraki]

actually just thought of an infinitely funnier possibility regarding iceberg's spectation of the Kondraki Closet Situation which is that he absolutely calls kondraki gay/closeted/etc on a regular basis and kondraki consistently goes 🙄 not to be homophobic but Some People apparently think everyone is like them... is it not ok to be straight... and so absolutely nothing is helped or resolved but you can't fucking blame iceberg

[nsharks]

um so idk what HEA means i’m dumb sorry but my english isn’t that good and it’s not my first language and what will be HEA i don’t get anything rn😭SORRY

.

[genius11rare]

diversity win

Zoozve, my beloved

[azvhaalk]

our dream

[ideologyofone]

I’m sorry but I will truly never get over Ekko who lost his mentor and all his friends at a young age, then spent the rest of his childhood building a beautiful and strong community that helped get shimmer addicts off the streets and give them a new life that thrived off of trust, respect, and loyalty while slowly watching the girl he loves lose herself to her psyche and become an unhinged suicidal terrorist who he is unable to save despite repeated attempts at it. And THEN gets booted into an alternate reality where he learns he could have had EVERYTHING, the beautiful and thriving community, the education, his family, and the girl he loves and he heartbreakingly leaves it all behind because he knows he doesn’t belong there and he has to go back to save his people which he DOES multiple times at great risk despite knowing what overextending his z-drive could do only to end up completely alone in the end. The most selfless character in the entire series. That’s my boy savior.

[thought-begone]

I guess the real glorious evolution was the homoerotic yearning we made along the way

[archi-pelago]

maybe never forgive. but things are different now. so we'll use maybe.