#and then healed them (kept the scars for flavor)

[caffeineinmyspleen]

I'm breaking dishes up in here, all night (Uh-huh) // I ain't gon' stop until I see police and lights (Uh-huh)

I'm a fight a man tonight // I'm a fight a man tonight

I'm a fight a man, a man, a ma-a-a-an // A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an

(I am so normal about the Sides in skirts)

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

if I don't get Utahime centric fics that revolve around her with MINIMAL involvement of Satoru and Suguru I will start killing hostages

[discordiansamba]

the taste of the tea is familiar.

min-su frowns, and stares at his cup. he knows this flavor, but he's never been to this tea shop before. he never would have thought of coming to a tea shop in the upper ring if lee hadn't invited him. he'd been worried sick about the kid recently. he kept disappearing and reappearing- moving away suddenly, without warning.

he looks up at lee. something is... different about him.

it's just the short hair. or maybe it's the way he's stopped hiding his scar. it had churned his gut the first time he saw it. he'd wondered how anyone could do that to a kid- and he'd been relieved to learn later that it was just from an accident. he wasn't so sure why he'd been convinced someone had done it to him on purpose.

(he always expected lee to hate his father.)

min-su asks if he can meet the brewer. the tea is delicious he says. lee nods and leads him to the back. he's not smiling, for once. his expression is serious. it's not like him, min-su can't help but think. it's very much like him, he also thinks.

min-su stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the old man in the kitchen. he... knows this man from somewhere, some part of him thinks, even though they've never met. the man meets his eyes, and tears flow down his cheeks.

he calls him lu ten.

min-su feels cool hands pressed up against his skull- and then slowly, groggily, lu ten wakes up. it's like being dragged out of a frozen pond after being trapped in there for a long time. for a few moments, he doesn't remember how to move his body. then his father has thrown his arms around him and the spell breaks.

"father," lu ten says, "-what are you doing here?"

here is ba sing se. the siege failed. lu ten was captured. he was taken underneath a lake, and a different man using his body had walked back out. he called himself min-su, and found work as a guard. he was a good earth kingdom man, loyal to the earth king and the dai li. he fought for his country. he'd fallen in love with a metalworker and had married him. his favorite tea shop was a place called the lotus blossom...

...his favorite tea server was a young boy named lee.

lee. agni. zuko.

"father, zuko-"

"is fine," zuko says from behind him- then makes a face and wiggles his fingers, "-ish."

the waterbender just nods her head in solemn agreement. lu ten wonders if he's supposed to know her too. he's pretty sure she did something to heal his head. he looks at his cousin- and then extends an arm to him. zuko rolls his eyes in a very un-lee-like way, but he lets him drag them into the hug.

he'll find out a bit later exactly what happened to him. he'd been brainwashed. years later, his uncle and zuko come to the city as refugees- and zuko would help his sister take it down from the inside, only to be doublecrossed by her. zuko had been brainwashed too, but his was far worse than lu ten's had been.

the war was over. the fire nation had been defeated. his father now sat on the fire lord's throne, after having it taken from him by his uncle. he no longer wished for war- only peace. and lu ten, who had lived for seven years as a good earth kingdom man, could look back and see the futility and cruelness of it all.

...agni. how was he supposed to tell his husband this?

[alexanderlightweight]

Good afternoon, hi, hello, happy timezone to you OMG. I am in love. Obsessed I tell you. Kitten Alec is my new favorite thing in the whole wide world. And it's Wednesday! Any chance for a bit more of maybe I'm the villain?

I cannot tell you how much fun I'm having with Magnus and Alec's ears. And Magnus and Alec's tail! Alec's tail wrapped around Magnus' wrist!

If you'll excuse me, I need to go find a Victorian fainting couch to fall on as I swoon from delight while contemplating all these glorious pictures you've put in my head. ❤️

^_^ hehe i love all flavors of dragon and cat malec and i realized that this is a world where shadowhunters/seelies/warlocks have marks and other forms. vampires dont have them and werewolves nly have wolf features.

i hope you enjoy swooning! alec is definitely going to swoon at sme point on magnus' sunlit window seat

i am also having fun and tbh, alec is going to be having fun at some point too ^_^

thank laws and i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

-

— Alec can’t help but relax further into Magnus the more his tail is petted.

Between the tether and the petting, Alec is the most vulnerable he’s ever been and experiencing the most intimacy of his life. It’s overwhelming to a degree where all he can do is press his forehead against the scales of Magnus’ neck and try to focus on his scent.

It’s rich and woodsy and deep with earth scents that cause Alec to nuzzle closer. His tail has once again betrayed him and he knows it’s wrapped devotedly around Magnus’ wrist. Magnus’ wrist is being greedily held captive and Alec continually tells himself that the only reason he hasn’t pulled away is because at this point, what does it matter?

Nails tease at sensitive skin until he shakes even as Magnus calls out, apparently resuming court even as he ignores another drink to instead keep both hands on Alec.

—

Magnus palms Alexander’s ass and delights in the tightening twitch of the thick tail around his arm. Alexander’s ears also betray him, flicking back and then forward as his breath comes in tiny pants that end with little kitten licks to Magnus’ neck.

It’s nearly too much to let go and the moment that just enough time has passed, Magnus has his teeth in Alexander’s neck and is greedily bruising flesh and muscle even as he breaks skin and breaks blood to the surface. It’s a mouthful of pure ambrosia and the mere taste of Alexander’s lifeblood fills Magnus with a devouring lust even as he swallows another mouthful.

It’s with lingering tenderness that Magnus licks the bite — until it’s preserved in a half-healed state that will scar even with angelic or magical intervention.

Alexander shakes and whines but makes no true protest and Magnus croons even as he pets Alexander’s ears until they lift again. They’re so delightfully soft and Magnus is sure that his kitten’s fur is one of the most decadent textures Magnus has felt in centuries.

Magnus listens to the tedium of his court as he savors the last of Alexander’s blood on his lips and tongue and the weight of his kitten in his lap. There are more than a few looks that linger and Magnus curls his lips at those and from their immediately cowering, it seems his point is made.

Magnus has held court in a variety of ways, some more salacious than others, but he’s fairly certain this is the most distracting court he’s ever held. No one can look away from Alexander but very few dare or are stupid enough to keep looking. It means that his entire court is shifty-eyed and hesitant even as Magnus’ good mood grows.

Alexander seems overwhelmed by the entirety of the experience and Magnus has no doubt that on a battlefield, his little angel is quite the warrior. Here though, protected and kept warm and distracted in Magnus lap, he’s a sweet kitten, begging to be pampered.

His tail and ears are gorgeous but the same oil that polishes Magnus’ scales will do wonders for the luster of his dark, abyssal fur. Magnus wants to lay him out on his lap and brush and pamper and tend to Alexander until he purrs for no other reason than that Magnus is touching him.

Another ten minutes pass and the clave’s hunters are no where near the rift they’re supposed to be eradicating. Instead — as they stumble slightly out of the path — Magnus carves his initials into Alexander’s thigh with one, long talon.

Alexander keens through it and the paralytic from Magnus’ nails ensure that its a numb heat even as it clots the wound.

Magnus admires his own handiwork, pleased with how nicely his brand looks on Alexander’s skin.

It’s a pity it’s another twenty minutes till Magnus will get him naked — Alexander won’t be as gentle if Magnus plays the same trick twice and Magnus isn’t going to risk being predictable — but Magnus is enjoying himself.

Alexander is relaxing now — subconsciously or not — and his ears are flicking towards Magnus’ every time he speaks, his tail relaxing when Magnus’ talks and tightening when others speak instead.

“My good, precious kitten.” Magnus murmurs, hand reaching under shirt and jacket to scratch his nails down sweat-damp skin. “Rest lovely, you have nothing but time.”

Alexander muffles a growl in Magnus’ neck and Magnus marvels at how rarely the clave ever act in his favor, even if it is accidentally.

Problems are brought to him to solve from something as small as a magical house pest, to a century old feud that has been remembered for the first time in decades.

It’s tedious and necessary and Magnus finds himself far more patient than he normally is. Alexander is an easy distraction — a reminder of good things to come — and Magnus finds that time melts together as Alexander’s jacket is dropped to the floor and then his shirt.

It’s been just under an hour and Alexander is naked and bare and yet still relaxed and languid in Magnus’ lap. He’s firm and muscled and clearly needs some coddling that Magnus is more than happy to provide.

The hunters have finally found the right path and Magnus has no doubt that they’ll soon be providing him with plenty of reason for entertainment.

Inside Pandemonium, Magnus throws up the wards that mean he isn’t to be approached and curls his fingers through soft locks until he can gently pull Alexander’s head back.

“Drink kitten,” Magnus murmurs as he offers Alexander a sip from his own cup. “Small sips,” Magnus tells him chidingly when his lips barely press against the glass. It’s with an incredulous look that Alexander hesitantly laps at the drink with small kitten kisses of his tongue.

It’s sinfully exquisite and almost too much to handle so Magnus takes a long sip of his own drink and presses his lips to Alexander’s insistently. He pulls an open-mouthed gasp from Alexander as he teases him and feeds him the drink before he pulls away, licking away the shine of alcohol from his kittens slack lips.

“Good boy, Alexander.” Magnus murmurs and then he smirks as an the sun finishes turning and the entirety of an hour has passed.

Alexander is naked now and it’s time for Magnus’ to have his fun.

[sterekbros]

Mature | 1,414w | Sterek | Established | Mates | Traveling the world

Written for @sterekfests week 2, @sterekbingo square chin on the shoulder, @sterekweekly word space, @warmandfluffybingocards square running away together.

The waves rocked against the hull, a gentle bubbling, licking, splashing sound that changed whenever the wind did. That always kept Stiles lulled into sleep, but the sharp squawking broke through his consciousness, and he blinked several times until the dim light of the morning sun filtered in through the small, circular windows of the cabin. He never imagined he could live in such a small space, but the cabin of the sailboat had been home for at least the last six months. Had it been six months? He was starting to lose track now.

After Derek’s return, Stiles decided to take a leave of absence from the FBI. Not only had he suffered physical trauma from his wounds, but the mental ones had been getting to him, too. PTSD was always something that Stiles considered normal, but waking up at night, feeling like his guts were falling out and screaming for Derek was something that had started to finally wane the longer he was away from work.

It helped that Derek promised him that he’d stay forever, that he would never be without his mate again. Stiles’ hand moved down to press against the scar on his abdomen, holding it flat against his stomach as he remembered being shot and thinking that he’d never see Derek again before he’d blacked out from the blood loss.

He reminded himself that he was safe and he was healed and that nothing could get him here. Stiles drew in a deep breath, letting the salt in the air fill his lungs and leave the faint flavor of the ocean in his mouth. He rubbed a hand over his face, brushing against the beard he’d started to grow. He really needed to shave, but he also couldn't bring himself to care while they were out on the open ocean with no one but each other to worry about.

Stiles rolled onto his side and pulled himself upright on the edge of the bed. The boat swayed and bobbed beneath him on the water. That was something else that he’d learned to get used to. Being seasick was never something that Stiles really considered himself to catch, but his first few weeks out on the open ocean had been an experience he’d never forget.

The wood was cool beneath his bare feet and he wiggled his toes before standing and grabbing some shorts. Stiles pulled them on, then found his way to the ladder that led him to the deck where he knew he’d find Derek.

The sun was still rising on the horizon, the air cool and damp with the swaying boat, the sails flapping quietly in the breeze. Derek was standing at the helm, focused on sailing like he usually was when Stiles slept.

Stiles moved with an ease that spoke of living on a sailboat, padding behind Derek and wrapping his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck gently. “Good morning.”

“How’d you sleep?” Derek asked, voice quiet as if he were afraid to wake the world, his hand smoothing along Stiles’ arm.

“I slept okay… I didn't wake up screaming without you this time. No nightmares.” That was a huge improvement. Maybe there was hope yet for him to heal before going back to work.

If he went back to work for the FBI.

He knew that he didn't have to, that Derek would take care of him, that they were mates, and what was Derek’s, was also his. Stiles still hadn't made up his mind about that yet. Especially since Derek promised to never leave him again. And if he did travel, he would take Stiles with him, like he had this time.

“Good,” Derek replied, giving Stiles’ arm a squeeze, his eyes focused on the water. Stiles kissed his shoulder, breathing him in, lips trailing until he reached the mark on Derek’s neck. Stiles kissed his mark, the one that claimed Derek as his, then nosed it and rubbed his cheek on it as he marked Derek with his scent.

Derek practically purred as a growl rumbled through his chest and Stiles smiled against Derek’s skin.

“Where are we?” Stiles finally asked, resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder again and looking out over the water.

“We’re just off of Crete.” Derek gently shifted the wheel as they sailed easily across the water.

“Elafonisi Beach?” Stiles really tried not to sound hopeful or excited about it, but he’d told Derek more than enough times that he really wanted to go to Crete and see the pink sands of Elafonisi Beach.

He knew that Derek had been there before, but Stiles had never been to all the places Derek had seen and he wanted to share them with his mate.

“You said you wanted to see it.” Derek cast him an easy smile, his hand idly smoothing along Stiles’ arm as Stiles held him close, pressed against his chest.

“Well, I never thought we’d actually make it here.” He snorted and nosed behind Derek’s ear. “Thank you, for bringing me.”

“I want to give you the world.” Derek’s words were soft and quiet, only for Stiles, despite them being the only ones on their sailboat.

Stiles knew Derek meant it, but he never thought Derek would actually take him to see the world. That was just something that wasn't part of Stiles’ life. At least not before now.

Maybe, though. Maybe they would.

Maybe he wouldn't go back to work for the FBI.

The longer he stayed out on the water, the more he never wanted to go back. Whether it was to Beacon Hills, New York, or anywhere in between. He just wanted to stay with Derek, wherever Derek may lead.

“I love you,” he breathed against Derek’s neck. “So much.”

“I love you too. Always.”

That sent a flutter in Stiles’ chest. No matter how many times Derek told him that he loved him, it always seemed fleeting because Derek had always left him when he’d visited. But now—now they were together, forever.

“When can we go to the beach?”

“We’ll be at the landing by the time the sun comes all the way up. We can dock there and then the beach is only about a ten-minute walk. I figured we could check out the island and maybe get a couple of keepsakes.” Derek tugged on Stiles’ arm. “C’mere.”

Stiles moved, tucking himself under Derek’s arm as his mate hugged him close, pressing his face against Derek’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around him again. Derek was warm and beautiful and Stiles loved that Derek’s body ran hotter than his. It kept away the morning chill.

“Maybe we can stay for a little while?” They’d been moving around so much, seeing all the places that Derek wanted to show him, that Stiles kinda missed his feet being on dry land sometimes.

“Whatever you want.” Derek kissed Stiles’ forehead and rested his bearded cheek atop Stiles’ head. “We’ll stay as long as you want. Maybe we’ll visit the rest of the islands… and then see Croatia and Italy?”

“I’d like that. I always wanted to visit Italy.” There were so many places that Stiles wanted to visit, but Italy had always been at the top of his list. There was so much history connected to the architecture, so much that he wanted to see and learn and experience in real life. Pictures would never do places like that justice.

“Then we’ll go to Italy,” Derek assured him. He rubbed his cheek along Stiles’ hair, then kissed his forehead. “Come on… let’s go back to bed for a little bit. I’ll drop anchor. We have some time before the sun is all the way up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles replied softly, turning his face up to give Derek a gentle kiss. “Plus, I didn't have a chance to give you your blowjob this morning because you were awake before me.”

Derek laughed, full-bellied, loud, and happy. “You know I’m not going to turn that down.”

Stiles smirked and took Derek’s hand. “Well… I think we have enough time for that and a little more.”

He grinned as he tugged Derek along and he could feel his mate’s eyes sliding along his skin and down to his ass.

Stiles had promises to keep. Elafonisi Beach could wait. Right now, he had no plans other than taking care of his mate and making sure Derek knew how much he loved him.

For always.

[fairytail-multishipper]

Dragon Slayer Hcs because these fuckheads living in my brain

Natsu:

Birthday is November 24 (♐️), he and Freed share a birthday

Igneel didn’t know his birthday, so it was always celebrated on January 1 with the new year

Demirose

Genderfluid, uses He/They/She/It

Autistic

Red scales with a orange gradient where his scales have been damaged and light red undersides

Black scales along spine that help him absorb sunlight, which energizes him

Scales along knuckles, spine, cheeks, top of firearms/shins, and side of his thighs

Fangs and claws are wide and slightly curved to devour/control fire

Stronger sense of smell than the others

Eyes are green, but turn orange when using magic

Sclera are yellow

Elongated ears angled up

Early riser, needs heat and sunlight, up with the sun

Tongue is rough like sandpaper

Body uses more magic in colder areas

Energized by heat and sunlight

Extremely high body temperature

Can sense heat signatures

Burns things on accident a lot, he’s a walking fire hazard, needs to be kept away from furniture

Fire fucked up his tastebuds at a young age, needs flavors to be extremely apparent or he can’t taste it

Hair deepens in hue in Dragon Force, almost red

Gajeel:

Birthday is April 15 (♈️)

Identifies as Greysexual

Transman, He/They/Neos

Autistic

Blackish/silver scales that are as hard as iron

Scales along arms, legs, hands, face, and back/spine

Piercings aren’t just there for looks, they spike up when scales fold over skin, making little spikes

Can shuffle his metallic scales around his body as needed

Two sets of fangs, one behind the other because he’s eating metal, large and strong fangs

Eyes are red, sclera are yellow

Elongated ears angled down

Night vision, got even better after eating Rogue’s shadows

Always more of a night person, after eating Rogue’s shadows he became more nocturnal than before

Tongue is covered in scars from scales on roof of his mouth, as well as eating metal

Extremely thick skin, literally, hard to break and leave scars

Had trouble with his sense of feeling, especially in his hands, textures are almost nonexistent in his fingers

This means he can be extremely hurt without noticing, like grabbing hot metal and burning his hands without knowing

Lungs are extremely hard to listen to thanks to the metal outlining them, sounds like he’s barely breathing

Hair turns silver-ish in Dragon Force

Almost always bites through silverware when eating regular food, he can’t help it

Extremely heavy, weights a ton because he’s covered in iron

Wendy:

Birthday is January 13 (♑️), yeah, i think wendy was actually older than sting and rogue before tenrou (by months but still)

Ace Lesbian

Transgirl, She/They

Autistic

Most dragonic looking of main seven(7) for reasons you’ll have to find out in my rewrite

White scales with pale blue undersides

Scales across cheeks, hands, arms, thighs, and back

Tuffs of white feathers behind ears, and on her joints

Digigraded legs below knees into four-toed talons (feathered)

Wings mixed with scales and feathers

Her feathers can stand up, which helps her know where to direct her magic when healing others

Smaller fangs than the boys, more towards the back of her mouth so that she can more of a direct air flow, very sharp fangs to slice through the air

Stronger sense of taste than the others

Nictitating membrane like a lizard

Eyes are golden yellow, sclera are a more pale yellow

Elongated ears angled down

Thrives in high places with thin air, hates humidity

Healing ability is even more accelerated than the others

Lungs filter oxygen faster than usual

Dangerous to be around during allergy season, powerful sneezes

Hair/eyes turns magenta pink when in Dragon Force

Laxus:

Birthday is April 5 (♈️)

Demi Gay

Transmasc Demiboy (They/He)

Autistic

Dragon Lacrima works a bit differently in my rewrite

Dark gold scales

Light blue scales down his spine

Scales cover forearms, spine, and shins

Tuffs of grey feathers on joints

Long fangs/claws to help conduct electricity

Eyes are orange but turn electric blue when using magic

Sclera are yellow

Lightning is constantly stuck in the back of his throat, tickling the scales in his mouth and making him cough and clear his throat regularly

Lacrima keeps him healthy, if he uses too much magic it’ll make his immune system plummet

Elongated ears angled up

Gives off static electricity even without meaning too

As technology advances without the need of lacrima, Laxus short-circuits pretty much anything electronic he touches

Can create thunderstorms when feeling intense emotions

Erik:

Birthday is November 2 (♏️)

Demi Bi

Transman (They/He)

Autistic

Dragon Lacrima works a bit differently in my rewrite

Deep maroon scales with bright yellow along spine

Scales on forearms, spine, and shins

Thick but hollow fangs and claws full of poison, very brittle and easily broken

Stronger sense of hearing than the others

Eyes are purple, sclera are yellow

Drinks the pollution in the air

Elongated ears angled up

Split tongue like a snake

Can take any medicine when sick, nothing works on him unless it’s magic based

Sting:

Birthday is March 30 (♈️)

Demi Gay

Transman (He/They)

Autistic

Dragon Lacrima works a bit differently in my rewrite

Shining, shimmering, slightly illuminating (in the dark) white scales

Scales along arms, legs, hands, face, and back/spine

Tuffs of white feathers at joints

Large and curved fangs, also hollow and can suck the white out of things (vampires in adventure time)

Eyes are blue, sclera are yellow

Has night vision, but his is the worst of the group, luckily his scales slightly glow

Early riser, needs light, up with the sun

Energized by the sun/light

Scales absorb sunlight

Elongated ears angled up

Rogue:

Birthday is October 31 (♏️)

Ace Bi

Nonbinary (They/Them)

Autistic

Dragon Lacrima works a bit differently in my rewrite

Gradient dark grey to black scales

Red scales along spine

Scales along arms, legs, hands, face, and back/spine

Feathered black scales on shoulders but no tuffs

Short and wide fangs towards the back of his mouth

Eyes are red, sclera are yellow

Practically nocturnal, the sun is his enemy

Has the best night vision of the group

Elongated ears angled down

Colorblind, sees mostly in black, white, and dulled-grey like colors

Hates eating shadows of people, says it feels almost like cannibalism

Also refuses to eat Frosch’s shadow

Serena:

Birthday is September 15 (♍️)

Pan Ace

Genderfluid, Any pronouns

Autistic

Dragon Lacrima works a bit differently in my rewrite

Scales unfold almost like a rainbow thanks to his eight dragon lacrima anal beads (rust orange, medallion gold, bright gold, sage green, sea blue, silver, white, and black)

Scales on forearms, spine, shins, and tops of feet

Peacock like feathers on joints (medallion gold, bright gold, silver, white, and black)

Extremely large and thick fangs/claws

Eyes are blue but change color based on what element he’s using

Sclera are yellow

His body honestly doesn’t know what the fuck it’s doing

Usually goes barefoot because of his Cavern Dragon Slayer magic, resulting in extremely calloused feet

Elongated ears angled up

Muscles tense after being still for too long, sounds like something is breaking when he starts to move again

His lungs are a mess, you can’t hear anything if you tried to listen to them

Irene:

Birthday is September 3 (♍️)

Greysexual Lesbian

Genderqueer, Any Pronouns

Autistic

Can switch between her true form (dragon) and her human form at will, but being in her human form for long periods of time will inevitably begin to transform back into a dragon

White undersides with crimson red scales, if left unaddressed

Tuffs of red feathers on joints, if left unaddressed

Thick and wide fangs/claws

Originally had brown eyes but after turning into a dragon her eyes are a pinkish-red, sclera are yellow

Body is mostly numb

More comfortable in her dragon form than her human form

Elongated ears angled down

Only looks psychically her age because of stress and pain in her human form

All:

Ten (10) pairs of ribs instead of 12 to help expand lungs for breath attacks

Claws are strong like bone and grow out of nail beds

Multiple sets of teeth ready to grow in within days of loosing teeth

Teeth always grow back stronger

Faster healing compared to other magic types, especially god slayers

Extremely heightened senses, though some of them have better senses than other

Extremely mobile on all fours, almost like that’s the way their body wants to be shaped

Scales on the roof of their mouths and down their throats as well

Elements begin to grow in their lungs and need to be expunged

Night vision

Age extremely slowly and will outlive all of their loved ones unless death comes unnaturally

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Ahh! Well that be glad for I also love talking about this au! And I have some many questions!

So Mihawk activates armament on their way out? Any chance, since he doesn’t know how armament works, he uses it in such a way that it’s like, well shit, I don’t know enough about armament to say that can't work, and then he does something fucking crazy with it? Like how Sanji lights himself on fire or Zoro creates several other body parts? Like it’s an extension of your will—why should it be limited when your ambition isn’t?

Thoughts on tattoos? The boys could get them to cover up scars or other forced tattoos or brands. Also, will Mihawk dress less exposed in this AU? Maybe in the beginning of their escape, slightly ashamed of his scars, a bit self-conscious or at people looking at his body, developed body dysphoria from all the torture--the scars could trigger memories maybe? Maybe as they heal more slowly, he starts to stop covering up as much as he does? I don't know. Shanks would be just as much of a disaster when it comes to clothes as his older counterpart, and you know, for those first few years of freedom and being able to wear whatever they want, they'd either A. Freak out over all the choices now that they have them. Or B. Wear some of the most outlandish stuff, which from One Piece probably makes everyone shrug and go, "Yeah, they can slaughter a whole Marine base without breaking a sweat; we don’t give a shit what they wear." I still want to write/draw Shanks clothes covered in Mihawks embroidery projects though.

Oh yeah, wanna bet about how absolutely terrifying and confusing freedom is for them once they get out? For two years, they had a routine, had their life structured, and even if it was horrible, it was a predictable type of horrible. Do you think they sometimes lie awake at night wishing they could go back and then hating themselves for thinking it? And are absolutely confused with stuff like shopping and human interaction that’s beyond fighting, faked complacency, and/or trauma-bound?

Do they freak out grocery shopping and walking in a crowd? Does Mihawk forget how to act human, and all the refined intricacies that are no longer muscle memory? Does Shanks refuse to talk to anybody who isn’t Mihawk for a good long while? Like if he talked to anyone else, it was probably interrogation or something worse? Are they confused by normal everyday things that they used to understand, but now it just doesn't make sense? Do they do things in public or around people that were fine when captured but are completely faux pas or uncomfortable to see in public?

Anyway, healing sucks, and learning to rejoin society and not try to kill everyone who so much as looks at you wrong will probably take a long time for them, like a soldier rejoining from the army or an inmate getting out of prison. And I've read and watched a lot of interviews from soldiers and former prisoners, and one of the things you can spot after you get out is another prisoner or soldier. Do you think the Loguetown kidnapped can just spot each other across a crowded room? Can they just look and go, "Yeah, them. I know that general vibe?"

Are their conversations then from their perspective reminiscing while everyone else is like, "Uhh, that's torture, you all were tortured? And your wistfully looking off into the sunset thinking about it?”

Like a conversation can go— "And man, food, Oda Christ! When we first got out and I had a peach again, I thought I'd fucking die, man. But then, sometimes, it's like the food is too much? You know what I mean? Like too much flavor and color and choices and health and shit? Like, we can't just eat chocolate all the time, and while gruel was disgusting, it at least kept us in top shape, ya know?"

"Oh my god, man, I totally get it. Sometimes I'll just be sitting, wondering why I'm hungry, and then remember, 'Oh yeah, I actually have to make my food now,' and like, food is just so much, man. I miss the gruel sometimes." And everyone, like staring at them, talking about getting their teeth pulled out like it was the good old times and not deeply horrifying.

Keep 'em coming, lol! Both Mihawk and Shanks discover their full haki while escaping/shortly after escaping. There's some amount of discourse on this, but I'm planning for Mihawk to use his Armament haki to turn Yoru black. Or more black. Haki (and armament haki's black color )wasn't a thing yet when Yoru was shown to be black, so Yoru is technically a black blade with no influence of haki, but shhhh, I do what I want. We also know Yoru is one of the twelve supreme grade blades, among which Roger's blade, Ace, is one of, so a big thing is that Mihawk takes Yoru from the marines, because Marines had rounded up as many of the twelve blades as they could. As far as doing improbable feats with Armament Haki, Mihawk does, because at that point, he's desperate enough to. And so does Shanks with his. And while we're peaking of tattoos...armament-black imprints from Mihawk grabbing Shanks to protect him, anyone? (Yes, I know that's not how it works. I can get a pass here.) Tattoos are always a draw. What they'd actually be of is really interesting to think about. I think they'd dress as close as possible to the way they did before their capture, because it's a way of maintaining control/grasping at their former selves. But of course, there will be be the aspect of a security blanket, so while the style remains the same, their clothes become armor. (Mihawk does wear high-collared vampire shirts for quite a while, though. And he won't be found without his coat.) They'll be more structured and ornate, meant to project status and stop people dead in their tracks. i.e Mihawk gets his hat, his coats are fully embroidered and embossed/beaded and have gold hardwear, he wears gold jewellery. Shanks takes to wearing long heavy leather cloaks he can wrap himself fully in, flowing red silk sashes. Silk shirts too. Real shoes. Mihawk embroiders everything of his. All those patterns canon Shanks wears? Loguetown Shanks wears Mihawk's patterns. Dripping bloody red flowers and gold filigree everywhere. Oh, it would be. During the times when they are fighting/unable to be around each other because of their recovery, they would think that. Too, they both secretly expected the other to be the one who would survive. They'd never thought it probable that they'd both be free again. And now they are, and they are dealing with it, and they can't. pt.2 coming up

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 7

It's past 12am as I write this, but I finished the fic before midnight, so the clock can fight me!

Today's Song(fic) Challenge prompt was "a song that hits harder live". Despite having attended two concerts at this point in my life, I am skewing the prompt to mean any live version. And so that brings me to the One World: Together At Home live version of Hozier's "Work Song", which I love more than the studio version and has lived rent free in my mind since 2020 because of the way he sings the line "I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me". Amen, sir.

across the void (i'll crawl home to her)

Game: Breath of the Wild

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 684

Keywords: yearning, atmospheric, literally undying love

He’s not supposed to remember the love that sent him to his grave. And yet the muscle memory of a love stronger than the black hole of death sends him staggering out of the place he was reborn, toward the light. Toward her. 

Read the fic on Ao3, or under the cut!

Fluid sloshes against the walls of a tank and spills over the side, droplets pattering on the uneven stone beneath as gravity calls them down with a siren song. The form within the tank twists beneath viscous blue liquid. He isn’t meant to wake yet, but his sleep has grown more and more restless over the near-century. 

It hurts her heart to see him, the gashes on his body carved in her service filling in with scar tissue rather than flawless new skin, and the gaping death maw of his chest only superficially plugging over, and so she’s kept her gaze far away, only glancing back every few decades. It’s sick, probably, sadistic, but it’s easier to watch the carnage in the fields than her lover in the vat. Her responsibility for both pains is the same, but the clean blood of an unknown has an easier flavor on the tongue.

His spine arches, and for the briefest of moments, his belly breaks the surface tension of the water. It’s the first time a single inch of his skin has been touched by air in a human lifetime. Though he still sleeps, goosebumps erupt over his entire body. Whether from the chill of the cave air, or from anticipation, no one can say.

He’s not supposed to remember the love that sent him to his grave when he wakes. She tells herself it’s better this way. Better a clean slate than a shattered one.

His consciousness is a dark, shifting green; lake weed in twilit water. It twines ever closer around her ankles as the years pass. Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine. 

One hundred.

He’s not ready. He’s not fully healed yet. What he’s lost has yet to be restored.

No. She’s not ready.

He wants to wake. Courage or recklessness; it matters not which guides the seeking thread of his awareness. It’s his choice. She sighs, and calls to him across the void. 

Perhaps in another world, the liquid that preserved and revitalized his flesh would drain away slowly, and he would rest on the plinth until his eyes have adjusted to even the bare ambient lighting of the cave, and then swing his bare feet to reach the floor and walk out of this womb of the earth under his own, sure-footed power.

In this world, he thrashes bodily out of the liquid before it’s halfway gone. He lands on his side on the stone with a wet, meaty slap, amniotic fluid starbursting around his form. Before his eyes even open, he’s lurching to his feet, and then crumpling down again, fawn-legs too unsteady to hold even his atrophied frame. 

Eyes shoot open. They glow spirit-blue in the dark. She doesn’t want to watch. She can’t look away.

He cannot walk, and so he crawls across the stone floor for the door. She tells him of the Sheikah Slate, and he takes it unquestioningly even as no recognition sparks in that luminescent gaze.

There’s an urgency to his motions that she can’t explain, regardless of the goddess’s knowledge running in the gold of her veins. She shouldn’t be so happy to see it. She should be simply pleased that he’s out there moving at all. She should be horrified that his exit from death’s parlor has left him as changed as her own. She should pity him for the mission set on his shoulders. 

Or is it?

Because…no one has told him yet of the person he was, of the life he lived and lost. No one has asked or commanded his fealty to the land they both used to call home. As of this moment, he is free. And yet he half-trips, half-runs from the mouth of the cave, as if following a siren song of his own. 

If her lips hadn’t calcified a lifetime ago, she might have smiled. 

He’s not supposed to remember the love that sent him to his grave. And yet the muscle memory of a love stronger than the black hole of death sends him staggering out of the place he was reborn, toward the light.

Toward her. 

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 8 Ep. 41: Grandma's Matzo Ball Soup

The Story of a Family Told in Web Comic Format

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

Peachy hadn’t wanted to hear Kassandra’s explanations for her jealous spouse, but his whole office sure wanted to know what had happened to him.

Most of his coworkers were just seeking gossip to spice up their morning, so he borrowed his Uncle Spencer’s football mishap story to fend them off. Jack was clearly not buying the party line though, so Peachy suggested an early lunch out of the office to chat.

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

The weather was nice and Peachy offered to buy them lunch at the food truck across the street from the precinct. It had tables both convenient and fairly private, so he had the opportunity to fill Jack in on the real story of what had happened and why.

Jack’s concern quickly turned to rage. Peachy had been lied to, stalked, and assaulted: he was ready to throw Leroy into cuffs right now.

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

Peachy begged his friend to let it be. The pair deserved each other, and he preferred to keep their drama well clear of him and the gossip prone precinct. Jack arresting Leroy would surely just reinforce the chief’s impression of Peachy as a troublemaking rookie.

With a laugh, he declared his broken nose to fit right in with the scar he earned in Strangerville. It would heal soon enough, and in the meantime he enjoyed having colorful facial features to go along with his colorful character!

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

With a sigh Jack agreed not to seek an arrest.

However, Peachy’s injury had stirred inside him a strong desire to care for the young sim. If he couldn’t use his professional skills to give the young man the justice he deserved, he’d just have to use his personal skills to bring him comfort instead.

Finding his smile again Jack told Peachy about his grandma’s matzo ball soup. Whenever he’d been under the weather, she’d made him a big bowl and its delicious warmth had never failed to make him feel better. Peachy simply had to come to his place for dinner tonight for a pot of that universal remedy. Peachy had shared so many delicious meals with him, it was his turn to return the favor!

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

Peachy said he’d love to see Jack’s bachelor pad and meet that cat he kept talking about. He was only sad his out of commission sniffer would rob him of the full flavor profile of Jack’s special dish. That was the worst part of the whole situation for a gourmand like him.

Peachy’s struggle to enjoy one of his favorite pastimes made Jack even angrier at the sims who’d hurt his friend. He kept those feelings and the half-formed ideas of payback to himself though, as the two men firmed up their plans for the evening and headed back to the office.

They were both more nervous than they willing to admit about the prospect of dinner at Jack’s place.

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Want To See More? View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[yennefer-of-vengerbergs]

thanks so much for the questions and excuse to babble about my girl @ratchsellsfornax😁❤️

👕Appearance: 3. Is there something about your character's appearance that they would change if possible?

She used to feel that way about the scars she has, from when Kressa kept her to cut into and experiment on, especially after confronting her in the Mind flayer colony. It wasn't for anything vanity related, it was because of what they signify for her and how she saw them as a reminder of something wretched. She has since then learned to accept them as something that is a part of herself (and Astarion was especially supportive and helped her through it).

📦Objects: 4. Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back?

If there is, she doesn't remember it (ha). Otherwise, she doesn't own that many things, but everything she has is something that she likes and treasures for various reasons, so she's careful to not lose them.

🍽️Food and Drink: 1. What flavor would your character say their personality is?

Hm, probably a combination of completely opposite tastes. Maybe sweet and salty, since it's a combination that's apparently pretty hard to get right and not as well liked as others? I feel like Syanna is that way, she's not for everyone and she's not that well liked by a lot of the companions at first (something which is more applicable for my fic, in game I always manage to get everyone to really high approval levels even in the early stages 😆)

🌤️Weather and Nature: 4. Is there a natural phenomenon that scares your character?

Well, she's not too thrilled about raging seas and you know that line you can tell Halsin about being afraid of krakens? Turns out it wasn't just a joke she tells him, so she definitely doesn't want to set foot on a ship anytime soon, just give her a portal.

🤝Community and Relationships 13. Would your character be good at providing medical assistance?

Well, Durge in game has medicine proficiency so I would say yes, to a degree. Syanna does know a few healing spells, though they're obviously not what she specializes in. Other than that, she does have medicine/anatomy related knowledge, though in the past she did use it for uh...non-medical purposes XD Post-resisting Bhaal and post-game, she does use that knowledge for some really basic assistance if the need arises, but she's obviously no doctor.

💓Mind, Body and Soul 21. If your character had to act in a play what role would they think they’d best perform?

Probably an anti-hero type of role.

🎲 Hobbies and Activities 18. What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

She definitely gets uncomfortable when asked about things others find completely normal, like telling something about herself or to talk about her past. It's basically something that I want to include in my fic, when at the start of their whole adventure, the entire group is sitting around camp, making small talk, asking about what they did before the tadpoles, hobbies, that sort of thing and she just doesn't know, because she doesn't remember anything about herself. So yeah, that's definitely the kind of conversation that she doesn't enjoy having. It's also why, post-game, I imagine she would want to figure out what she likes so she goes through this sort of experimental phase where she just tries out stuff to see what she enjoys, what she'd be good at and so on.

OC Questions

I have found this oc question post today and I thought I will bother some of you with questions about your oc's.

Since I'm a lazy person and don't feel like sending everyone the questions individually, I thought I'd just pick 5 questions for everyone I tag :D As always, no pressure. Only those who have the time and inclination.

My tags are: @lazysload: BG3 Loa, @djfatchip: Cassidy from ME:A, @papuchette-atma: Of course Riven and @yennefer-of-vengerbergs: Your lovely Syanna.

Okay, now the questions:

👕Appearance: 3. Is there something about your character's appearance that they would change if possible?

📦Objects: 4. Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back?

🍽️Food and Drink: 1. What flavor would your character say their personality is?

🌤️Weather and Nature: 4. Is there a natural phenomenon that scares your character?

🤝Community and Relationships 13. Would your character be good at providing medical assistance?

💓Mind, Body and Soul 21. If your character had to act in a play what role would they think they’d best perform?

🎲 Hobbies and Activities 18. What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

Okay, those are more then 5 :D

Have fun!

Looking forward to hear more about your ocs!

[kcrossvine-art]

Hewwo! baps your face off! TODAY from the big book of Redwall cookin’, we have my fuckin favorite recipe thus far; Rosey's Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cakes- The one that I've actually had ready to go for a few weeks now but I kept eating it too fast to take notes. Buckle into your buggies, hotshots.

(You can find the original recipe at the bottom if you’d like to follow along, and i plead you do)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake?” YOU MIGHT ASK

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Unsalted butter

Sugar

Eggs

Raspberry jam or jelly

Went to read this recipe and upon realizing i had every ingredient- from start to finish it took about an hour and half from deciding to make it to being able to eat it! 

AND, “what does Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Excellence. Pure comfort. Food that heals bones and hearts. Food that laces up scars. Food you make for your lover in bed on a cold rainy day.

Not quite fluffy, but very soft, smooth center

Crumbly, again soft, outer

Tart raspberry jam is the crown jewel of the piece. Mwah. God.

Rich and refreshing

The sprinkled sugar comes out not overbearingly sweet

Do try to eat/serve these warm, they keep well, but the jam will start to absorb into the pastry

Most jam or fruit filling works here, as long as it has some tartness, the world is your oyster. Grab your oyster fork. Feel weird about having an oyster fork. 

Like a molten lava cakes baby cousin-

. Used fine granulated sugar 

. Used salted butter (and only a pinch of salt instead of tsp.)

. Used raspberry jam

. Served with goat cheese caramel lightly drizzled

. Bumping the cook time up from 15 to 17 minutes let the edges brown a bit more which I recommend I think in the future I would like to also try pairing this with slices of strawberry, or perhaps fresh raspberries placed on top? Its hard to spitball pairing ideas because Most Things would pair fair!!

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Gentlethems of the Jury, we here at crossy wossys kitschy kitchy, welcome our very first 10/10

I so dearly need to communicate that I've had this art made for a good week now, I first baked this almost 2 weeks ago, and am just now getting around to writing the actual review. I like to have the food in my mouth to write about the flavor/mouthfeels section.  And I kept eating them too fast to take notes. I've used almost a whole bag of sugar making these on repeat and my teeth surely hate me but the heavens sneer enviously.

These fellas don't seem rather persnickety- I think one would have to actively try to mess up the recipe in a way where its no longer delicious. These are essentially scones with more variety in textures and flavors! The aforementioned latest batch was made at 4am halfmindedly with multiple perceived mistakes, and the only difference from the first carefully attended-to batch was that they were slightly less pretty to look at, both being absolutely mouthwatering. 

The low fussy-ness, low spoons (for me!), and delicious outcome that can pair with many drinks, makes this a flawless pastry in my eyes. a proud 10/10, with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus additional for rolling the dough

1 and 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons unsalted butter or margarine, chilled and cubed, plus additional for the baking sheet

1/2 cup sugar, plus additional for sprinkling

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Raspberry jam or jelly

Method:

Preheat the oven to 400° F and grease a baking sheet.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers (alternately, pulse the dry ingredients and butter in a food processor) until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in the sugar. Make a well in the centre, add the eggs and mix well to form a stiff dough.

Turn the dough out onto a floured board and form it into a roll. Cut the dough into ten pieces, shape them into balls and place them well apart on the baking sheet.

Use your thumb to make a hole in the centre of each and fill the hole with jam or jelly.

Pinch the dough closed over the jam, sprinkle the rock cakes with a little sugar and bake them until golden brown, about 1 5 minutes.

Cool the cakes on a wire rack and eat them while fresh, preferably on the same day.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Steve has been an amazing help in recent months. Dedicates most of his spare time to making sure that Eddie is comfortable, well-fed and taken care of.

In a boyfriend way, not a pity way.

Eddie is thankful for that. Everyone in this shithole town looks at him like he’s got an expiration date, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if Steve joined them. If he ever started to look at Eddie like he was already dead.

“Let’s make this quick, yeah?”

Smoke leaks from Billy’s mouth as he unfolds the wheelchair. Holds the handles steady from behind while Eddie leans out of the passenger seat of the van and hoists himself into it. Arms shaking. Lungs shrinking. He normally has Steve here to make the task easier, to help scoop him up or at least give him a helping hand, and maybe even a kiss on the forehead. Regardless of whether or not they’re in public.

But Steve isn’t here, and the most he gets is a steady hand on the wheelchair as he maneuvers into the seat and a pat on the shoulder when he’s done.

Billy shuts the door to the van and pockets the keys. Strolls past Eddie and towards the storefront, pulling the door open and holding it for a couple of ladies as they exit while he waits for Eddie.

Eddie who grips the wheels with pins and needles in his fingers and lurches himself forward. Heaving softly under his breath as he rolls up the slanted curb and through the threshold.

As he passes, Billy gently nudges his bicep with his knuckles.

“Breathe, Munson,” he encourages.

“You’re lucky I don’t have legs or I’d kick your ass,” Eddie wheezes.

The blond chuckles. Smoke curls in the air, and suddenly there are fingers wrapping around the chair’s handles. Eddie sighs. Rests his hands in his lap and lolls his head back, stares up at Billy as he gets pushed down the nearest aisle.

He’s not really sure why he insisted on joining Billy this morning. Maybe it’s because he’s been going a little stir crazy, confined to the first story of the Harrington house with nothing to do but mill around and watch tv. The board games and books that he was gifted by Dustin and Mike have kept him decently occupied, but even a nerd like him has limits.

Besides, the sun can do him some good, right? He has to be paler than a vampire by now—

“What kinda snacks do you feel like?” Billy asks. He combs a hand through Eddie’s hair as he steps around the chair to examine the shelves that they’ve parked next to. “You wanna switch anything up?”

“Anything but Twinkies. I’ve had so many Twinkies that if I smell the frosting I might puke.”

“Mm.”

Billy looks over the assortment of snack foods thoughtfully. Rolls his cigarette between his teeth and plucks a pack of Oreos from the shelf, plopping it into Eddie’s lap along with a few bags of chips.

All things that Eddie likes. Right down to the flavors and everything.

Though Billy simply stalks away and gestures for him to follow with the curl of his fingers over his shoulder, Eddie feels warm inside. Grabs onto the wheels and moves forward again.

The healing process has been… difficult. To say the very least. Dealing with phantom pains and bedsores has been relatively easy when compared to everything else. To the knowledge of fucked up parallel universes and the trauma that he’s endured.

His mind feels more fucked up than his body sometimes. Not that he’d ever breathe a word of that to anyone— specifically not to Steve.

The twisted flesh at his sides, the scar on his cheek, and the little dimples left behind from stitches are all physical reminders of the incident, as they’ve come to call it. Much like the Upside Down is an echo of Hawkins, Eddie views the physical injuries as echoes of his internal ones. Manifested, almost, as itchy blisters and puckered pink skin that refuses to tan in the sun.

It helps knowing that Steve bears similar marks. On his forearms and his sides, and his back. He doesn’t think twice about taking his shirt off at the pool or throwing on a crop top when it gets hot outside. Eddie admires that.

He also admires Billy in a similar respect. For continuing to unbutton his shirts down to his navel and flaunt himself despite the scar tissue that stretches from his sternum all the way down to his belly and wraps around his back. Angry and red and not at all a hinderance to his carefree attitude.

After all, what’s a little baggage to a King of Hawkins? Former or not.

The blond is browsing the end of a shelf a few aisles down, and Eddie wheels himself a bit faster. Plans on making some kind of screeching noise as he comes to a stop like a car coming to a halt at a traffic light. Just to make Billy laugh.

Because he has an oddly mild sense of humor like that. Aside from the obvious bitchy stuff that he’s more well-known for.

But that’s ruined when Eddie turns abruptly to avoid colliding with another customer exiting an aisle, snacks flying out of his lap in the process. Without even looking up, he dips down to pick up the items he dropped.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t see you there.”

It’s a stretch. Strains the tired muscles in his back to reach for the bag of Doritos, but he’s so close, if he can just get a little closer—

The bag is kicked away, and Eddie barely catches himself with a hand braced on the armrest as the chair lurches backwards. He huffs. Feels a rush of panic seep into the hollow of his chest as he steadies himself and sits up, hands already shaking.

God, he wishes he didn’t have to feel like this. Why does he feel like this?

“You just can’t seem to leave me alone, can you, freak?”

Breathe, Munson.

Eddie inhales. Exhales. In through his nose and out through his mouth like Robin showed him once. Or was it in through his mouth and out through his nose?

The chair jerks back again, and this time collides with a small shelf of pastries, sending plastic boxes tumbling to the floor.

“I’m talking to you,” a voice hisses.

Eddie looks up. Gets a beautiful view of none other than Jason Carver glaring down at him. Fists clenched. Chest puffing. Looking like he’s on the verge of exploding out of his skin.

“Y’know, I’m getting sick of hearing your name everywhere I go. Of hearing people talk about you like you’re some survivor, some victim,” Jason says. “Why can’t you just get out of my life?”

It’s stupid. It’s so stupid, but Eddie actually feels bad for the guy.

He’s never seen a golden boy go sour in the public eye so fast. Go from the talk of the town, the pride of the high school, to social pariah.

That thought is quickly usurped by another, and Eddie pinches his brows together.

“What, you just want me to not go grocery shopping? Grow up,” he huffs. “It’s a small town, dude, we’re gonna bump into each other.”

Jason tightens his jaw. Squares his shoulders, and Eddie fears that he’s made a grand mistake for a moment before the thud of heavy boots on the tile approaches, and Jason is being spun around.

It’s lightening fast, the way the rage melts from his expression.

Cans clutter to the floor. The shelf nearly tips over with how hard Jason’s shoulders collide into it, and he breathes a pained sound as he’s pinned against it. A pair of fists tangled in the lapels of his letterman jacket.

“I should drag you out back and leave you for dead in a dumpster,” Billy growls.

Face inches away from Jason’s. Blistering red all the way down his neck like Eddie has never seen before.

His shoulders are bunched up. Cigarette pinched angrily between his lips, merely a butt now, and it sends a chill up the brunet’s spine just to bear witness to it all. Even more so when he notices that Jason’s sneakers aren’t touching the ground.

“Billy,” Eddie manages. Straightens and wheels himself closer. “Billy, it’s okay—“

He snaps his mouth shut when a sickening glare fixes on him. Then Billy turns back to Jason, who grips onto his wrists. Looking vaguely dazed.

“I don’t wanna see you near him ever again, you understand?” Billy warns.

Jason huffs.

“He ran into me. I’m the victim of a hit and run here.”

He grunts when Billy draws him away from the shelf and slams him back into it.

“Shut the fuck up, Carver, or I’ll smear you so hard against the sidewalk that you’ll be tasting brimstone.” It comes out quiet. Like a promise. “Do I make myself clear?”

By now, there are employees as well as other customers staggered around. Watching just like Eddie with baited breath. When Jason doesn’t respond, Billy slides him further up the shelf.

“Sign or signal. Now,” he prods.

Jason manages a nod. Pinches his lips together and grunts when he’s dropped back to his feet, straightening his jacket and immediately putting a good foot of distance between him and Billy, who’s still fuming like an overworked furnace.

He casts a fleeting glance at Eddie before he reluctantly turns away. Hisses when Billy flicks his cigarette butt at the back of his neck.

It’s probably the most scared that Eddie has been in months when a pair of blue eyes fixes on him.

But then Billy is crouching in front of his wheelchair. Eyes glassy as he sets his hand on Eddie’s thigh with the most delicate of touches, like he’s expecting the brunet to recoil from it.

“I’m sorry, Edd—“ his voice catches in his throat, and Eddie feels a sharp pang of guilt settle deep between his ribs. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

For a moment, Billy just looks up at him. Then he nods softly. Reaches over and picks up the items that fell out of Eddie’s lap before he tucks them under his arm and stands up.

Eddie can do nothing but sit there as he’s pushed through the store. Straight back to the front and up to the register, where Billy checks out with less than half of what they came here to buy. It’s silent from then on until they get out to the van. Billy stows their single bag in the back, and just as Eddie begins to gear up to haul himself into the passenger seat, the blond steps in front of him.

“I think you’ve done enough for today,” he coos.

Gently reaches around Eddie’s back and hoists him up with ease. Sets him in the passenger seat carefully with a soft smile before he shuts the door and folds the chair closed.

Eddie… well, Eddie’s ears burn as he buckles himself in.

Waits patiently for Billy to climb behind the wheel.

When he does, he plugs the key into the ignition, but doesn’t start it. For a few tense seconds, he just sits there. A worm of guilt starts to inch up Eddie’s spine as he fiddles with his rings in his lap, already thinking of a mountain of apologies to give.

He knows that it isn’t his fault. That he couldn’t have predicted the events of today in order to stop them from happening. But he feels the burden of it anyway. Feels stupid and insignificant and—

Billy turns in his seat. Pulls Eddie into a hug. A tight, secure hug, and tucks his face into the crook of his neck. Eddie takes a flustered moment to remember to reciprocate it.

A lump gathers in his throat when he feels moisture against his skin.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” Billy sighs.

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Bills, I promise.”

He rubs Billy’s back soothingly. Squeezes him when he sniffles and tilts their heads together.

“I shouldn’t’ve left you, it’ll never happen again.”

“Just breathe, baby. Like you always remind me, alright? Breathe.”

And Billy listens. Inhales deeply and sighs into his skin. In through his nose and out through his mouth, funnily enough. Lets Eddie shush into his ear and rock them softly side to side until every one of his muscles is relaxed.

He might not handle every situation like Steve. Might not cook for Eddie or wait on him hand and foot like Steve does. But that’s okay.

Because although he makes Eddie work just a little bit harder for things, makes him push himself more than anyone else, he cares. Enough to scare the living shit out of probably the most feared guy in town. Enough to break down crying right afterwards for not doing more.

Truth be told, Eddie wouldn’t change that. Not for anything in the world.

[lunatic-flores]

𝑨𝒏 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓.

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ; 𝐴𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑜 reveals (𝘠/𝘕)'𝘴 secret to the town's healer, resulting something unexpected.

ꗰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i love angst, sorry not sorry guys.

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

The sound of a knife cutting some ingredients can be heard from the kitchen, Julieta silently cutting some carrots while her mind was drowning into the void of emptiness.

She just lost her child, oh her precious child.

The smile, laughters, crying, and giggles couldn't be erased that easily from her box of memories. She hissed in pain as she accidently cut one of her fingers, again.

It is unbelieveable that she didn't use her gift to heal them, all the scars and cuts are still there. As if she's keeping them so she can see how badly she hurts herself just to focus back on her chores.

Alma kept telling her to see the bright side, but what if the bright side was her only child that just died of unknown reason? Her mother completely understood how she feels, but seeing the healer couldn't heal herself is now a different situation to handle.

Agustin is always there for her, even though he had some hard time for himself too. Isabela's moodswings is a total disaster after losing her sibling, Luisa couldn't help but blamed herself - thinking that she's not reliable enough, and Mirabel, well - she hasn't been really active since the tragedy.

“Ay, Julieta! You hurt yourself again.” Julieta's twin, none other than Pepa is already stood next to her while handing a single bunuelo. “Please, hermana. Just this once, atleast stop the blood..” she looked into her twin's round brown eyes in worried.

Julieta stare at the bunuelo for a while, then a flash of memory came to her endless mind.

“i'm fine, Corazón. It's just a small cut, no need to worry—” the town's healer was holding her finger that accidently got cut when cutting some onions. Though, her little one was there on the rescue.

“No, Mamá! You have to eat the bunuelos or else i won't use your gift to heal myself too!” her child pouts as the little one crossed her arms. Julieta flinch at the sudden words, she quickly put her hands on her hips.

“i never teach you to raise your tone at the elders, mi amor. But if you really want me to heal myself with the bunuelos, then alright!” her child's face immediately shone as she watched the mother ate up the food as the cut began to fade away.

When she finish her bunuelo, she felt someone was hugging her waist, “I'm sorry for raising my tone, i won't do it again ... It's just - you make me worry, Mamá.” the litte one trembles as her negative thoughts started to swim freely.

Julieta smile at her child, she quickly pick them up then attack their face with kisses. “It's okay, mi amor - i'm also sorry for making you worry!” she cheers her up, seeing (Y/N) smile again sparks the softness in her heart again.

Her child giggles at her while cupping her face carefully, “I love you, Mamá!”

She became silent. there were no longer any words to describe the absence of emotion within her heart. she went from arguing to being upset, now feeling nothing at all. she became silent because her child were no longer there for her.

Julieta take the bunuelo from her twin gratefully, then she eat it slowly as she taste the delicious flavor that took some nostalgic feelings from her heart.

And when she finish, she look at the fibger that just got cut began to heal itself. She laughs in soft - patheticly.

“You have no idea,” she says, then pauses, trying to pull herself together before she speaks again.

“You have no idea how hard it is to see the face of someone that you once loved every single day.”

She pauses again, wiping the tears out of her eyes. Pepa carefully rubs her back in circles.

"But you know what's even harder?"

She waits a moment, wanting to let out the feeling she's been hiding as much as it hurts her. “Losing them in front of our eyes before you could reach for them.”

With every lies she's been crumbling and dying inside, wanting to save her child with all her might more than anything from that day, that day was a complete nightmare which kept traumatizing her.

But this world was against her, she couldn't fight. So, the world steal her child so easily out of her sight. Julieta kept praying for their safety, but betrayal came out of nowhere as she saw her child's gravestone was already - prepared.

Pepa couldn't help herself but trying her best to hold back, as the sky above Encanto turned very dark. And when her tears fall, the rain started to fall too.

The redhead pull her twin and engulf her in her arms, as she let Julieta cries silently on her shoulder. Every member of the family was devasted when they lose someone who's just so precious. And the rain didn't help them either.

Several minutes have pass, Julieta and Pepa are already calm themselves again. “I'm so sorry, mi hermana. It must be so painful for you, but just so you know that we are still here for you and your little one will always alive in your heart.”

Julieta smile at her twin as she give her a thankful yet warm hug again, after that, they began to separate to their own ways and their chores.

As usual, the town's healer cooked some foods for those people who are still in need even though they started to understand the pressure of the healer had been carry. Dinner is almost ready, The Madrigals are preparing the table, plates, glasess and etcetera. Mirabel is confused at first when she sees Isabela wrapping herself in (Y/N)'s blanket.

“Why are you wearing that?” Luisa asks, the elder daughter laughs nervously, “Well, you know, i missed my little sister so— i use this to prevent myself from the sadness!” she dramatically respon then wrapping her sisters with the blanket.

“Woah— Isa! We still need to help prepare the dinner!” Mirabel exclaimed in annoyance, trying to free herself from her sister's strong grasp. Luisa easily let herself go then help Mirabel from Isabela's wrath.

“You two are no fun!” she pouts, Mirabel can only rolls her eyes as Luisa smiles awkwardly. “Come on, let's go help the others.” Luisa began to carry Isabela too then put her sisters on her shoulder.

After they prepare the Dinner, Julieta took a sit between Isabela and Mirabel. She notices that there's an empty chair next to Luisa, and it was (Y/N)'s used to sit. Their eyes widen when one of them forgot to take the chair away.

Casita moves the floor to take the chair far away from the dining room, making everyone glance at Julieta. Trying to make sure that she's feeling alright. Thankfully, the healer didn't show any negative respond as she nodded her head in understand the situation.

It broke her heart when she remember that (Y/N) is no longer with her, Isabela slowly put the blanket on her mother's shoulder then flash her a soft smile.

“Thank you, mi vida. I really need this.” the mother spoke in gentle tone, even though it's mix with her emotions. Isabela soften her gaze, “No problem, Mamá.”

Everyone are eating their dish silently, no one brave enough to utter a single word from their mouth. Until Antonio decided to break the heavy atmosphere.

“Tía, i have ... Something for you!” the youngest boy smile at his aunt playfully.

“Really? What is it Tonito?” Julieta asks in wonder, the young boy take a single tape recorder out of his satchel then give it to the town's healer as Julieta carefully examine it.

‘ (Y/N) Madrigal ’

“It's (Y/N)'s tape recorder, i found it on the plant next to your door!” the boy inform everyone, Julieta look at her nephew then smiles, “Thank you, Antonio.” She hold the tape gently, glad that she can found one of her child's memory.

“is it alright if we play it now? I want to see what she's been recording...” Camilo asks then his sister nudge him to stay silent. “You're making tía nervous, hermanito.” Dolores whispers to his ear making him forcefully swallow.

“Agustin, Amor, can you play it please?” Julieta give him the tape recorder then let the husband take some parts to play the tape recorder. And when he's ready, Agustin glance at his wife, waiting for her confirmation.

Julieta caught herself holding her own breath, as she nodded her head to her husband. With that, Agustin play the recorder to show it to everyone.

The screen is glitching at first, but not long after, they can hear someone is groaning from the screen.

“Ughh, por favor!”

The Madrigal Family widen their eyes, as the screen began to show (Y/N)'s face. The young latter who just turned 12 is recording herself after the party.

Her eyes was scanning the whole recorder, “Okay, i think this thing works quite well ...” she nervously fiddled her fingers. “Ahem, Tonight i just turn— ... Uhhh what year old again? Right, 12. I am 12 years old now, Everyone was happy and enjoying the party,”

Julieta can feel that her heartbeat has calm down for a little bit, after she can hear her child's voice. Oh, what an angelic voice to hear.

“i don't know why but i uhh— ... I feel, a little bit left out i guess? I'm not sure, i tried my best to enjoy the party too but um ..— i think i'm being too selfish.” (Y/N) pondered at her own thoughts.

Everyone at the room can feel the tension from (Y/N)'s recorder as if it's effecting them too. “What am i talking about— i enjoy the party! Maybe sneaking some arepas with Camilo won't hurt ...” the latter's eyes flickers back to the recorder.

“Oops! Gotta keep the recorder by myself!” she sang then turn off the recorder. All the attention turns to Camilo, as if they're asking him how much did they steal from the kitchen.

He can only sighs in defeat, “Me and (Y/N) kinda ... Take a whole plate sooo—” when his eyes met with his aunt, he began to ducked his head in embarassment. “—Sorry.”

Agustin played the recorder again, then screen showing (Y/N), is sewing a teddy bear. She huffs in annoyance, “I should've let Mirabel help me ... But i got this!” (Y/N) showed the teddy bear she sewed to the recorder.

“This is quite a failed one but— still worth it! Alright, if i gave this teddy to Mama i'm sure she'll rip off the chest so she can get a surprise!” she exclaimed childeshly, Julieta widen her eyes as she stood from her sit making everyone looking at her.

“What's wrong, Julie?” Bruno asks in concern, her eyes shift to her family then ran off to the kitchen to get the teddy (Y/N) gave to her. After that, she also bring a scissor then goes to the dining room again.

“I'm going to cut it open.” she spoke in full confidence, even though Luisa can see her mother's hands are shaking violently. “Let me do it for you..” she replies in quick, as Luisa take the teddy and the scissor from her mother then cut the chest of the teddy.

Something clicking can be heard, so she cut it open quickly. Luisa pulls apart the fuzzy skin and cotton innards, it surprises Luisa when she found a paper and a little white box.

“A letter, for Mama.” she gave the paper along with the white box. Letting the town's healer read the letter slowly,

Dear Mama,

I know this might sounds a bit rude of me but - i'm really, really mad at you.

I'm mad at you because your endless kindness

I'm mad at you because your precious kisses

I'm mad at you because your selflessness.

I'm mad at you because your gentle tone

If you think that's alright and we, your children, don't need to repay your endless kindness and etcetera, prepare yourself from our love for you, my love for you!

Just you wait, Mama. I will be there for you, and if i can't be close to you - i'll be in your deepest heart!

P. S : please don't blame yourself just because you gave birth to me with a weak heart! XP

Julieta can feel her tears fall again, she grab the letter little tight, resulting the letter began to crumble on her hands.

Her heart was throbbing insanely as if it could burst at any moment. Agustin slowly play another video of his child. And it was skipped to the part where (Y/N) was 14.

(Y/N) stare at the recorder for a while, until she spoke in soft tone “I miss you so much Mama, i know you're so busy for these ... past few weeks but just so you know that's it's just the loneliness speaking ...— If I go back to you then I'm not allowing myself to feel true love and— allow myself to grow up.”

(Y/N) couldn't help smiling sadly at herself, “What we had was— nice ... And I wish it was real but we both know it was only real for me. I'll always think about you— ... but I refuse to let myself go back to you. I know what I deserve now and we both know you can't give it to me.”

Julieta didn't understand what was her child speaking, did she missed so many problem that her child bear alone? She held the white box close to her chest as if it could dissapear by itself.

“The rain have ceased even though it was not tia Pepa who did the rain, and we have been graced by another beautiful day,” the teenager look at the window then soften her gaze.

“But you're not here to see it with me, Mama.”

More than anyone Julieta have lost, (Y/N) was always be the most missed. She took up a lot of Julieta's heart and she have taken some parts with her. And after that, her heart seems incomplete without (Y/N) here. Sometimes she just feel like hugging her child, just to check up on her.

But what good is in that? It'll only open up the wounds more. The feeling of missing someone hurts, but not knowing how they are and what they are doing that really gets to her because the person already gone.

Julieta can feel her three daughters are now comforting her as best as they can, she smiles at them then let her husband play another video. This time, she was with Antonio.

“When I was little, your tia and I cooked in the kitchen, i smelled like a churn, guineas and chickens strutted the porch.

When we left, Abuela would stand in her garden and wave. I'd watch her a long time, leaning out the window. My mother would say little on the way home after healing the people in town, her eyes now and then filling with tears.

Perhaps she was thinking of that garden, the one she tried to replicate year after year, every last pole bean and zinnia, the one she left to me.”

Antonio seems enjoying her story as he shift himself comfortably. Letting (Y/N) hugged him for a while until Antonio asked somethin unexpected.

“(Y/N), are you an angel?”

Everyone became silent as they watched the video carefully. Fortunately, Antonio is now sleeping in his mother's arms, so he won't know which video they are watching.

“What?”

“My friend's mom told me that those who have marked wrists are angels!” Antonio exclaimed happily after he noticed some scars on his cousin's arm.

“Sadly tonito, i'm not an angel, not in this world.” She rejects the idea of being the angelic creature, it looks more suit if it's mention to Isabela.

“Of course you are, My friend's mom said that only angels harm themselves because they don't like life on earth.

This world is destroying them so they try to return to heaven again. They are too sensitive to the pain of others and their own!”

(Y/N) never thought to harm herself, though the scars on her arms just an anccident, so she just agree with her littler cousin “You know, your friend is very wise.” Antonio laughed at her happily, “Thank you, my friend is also an angel but she has already returned home.”

(Y/N) soften her gaze then asked, “Did you miss her?” Antonio fell silent for a moment, “Yeah, i miss her so much!”

After that, the video goes black for a while then turned to (Y/N) where she's now 19.

“I think this is the last one,” she mutters quitely, “I don't know what to say in here but if you find this video - meanings that i'm already ... Gone.”

Julieta can feel that her daughter was looking at her through the screen, “if you're Mama, i wanted to tell you that— uhh... I finally see myself the way you always do, and thank you for taking care of me.

Your kindness and love are the best gift i've received. Please— ... Please don't be sad, even though i'm already gone because of this weak heart of mine...”

Julieta's heart broke into million piece, her tears never stopped to fall from her brown eyes as she bite her lip, “i will always be in your heart, Mama. If you found the necklace, i'd be forever grateful and happy if you wear it.”

(Y/N) smiled for the last time then coughing violently as they see some bloods are dripping from her hands, she wiped the blood with her ruana, “Dios Mio.” and then the video ended.

Julieta wanted to scream so badly, but it will waste her energy. So she open up the white box then take the golden necklace to see the engraved name on it.

‘ Mi Mama - Julieta. ’

Since that day, Julieta never take off her precious necklace. Making the ‘Angel’ above her smiles happily.

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

[bittermuire]

a nightlight and a bottle of wine

recently I’ve really loved nezriel and wanted to write a lil thing for them. this will be two parts, this is the first. modern au

---

It’s not like Nesta really knew what she was doing when she moved out. All she knows is that there is a rift between her and Feyre; a scar splitting their shared skin, a wound opening and reopening, never to heal.

And so she’s away. They’ve made their mistakes and let them be. They’ve hurt each other and even tried to love, but sisters love each other too much for love—and so she’s away. The guilt is still there, but farther from her, now. Nesta stirs it into her morning coffee and drinks the sleep, wiping it from beneath her eyes and the lines around her mouth.

Every so often Cassian will text her, inviting her out to dinner or to a work party, and Nesta resists the urge to throttle him. He’s a very smart, thirty-five year old man. He should know what cutting off someone means.

(He knows, of course he knows. She guesses he just thinks it doesn’t apply to him.)

His roguish charm, his smirk, his low voice, all inviting her to one thing—sex—was beginning to exhaust her. It’s a surprising relief to be away from him. She feels like she can wear tank tops and let her hair down and go out without a bra, relieved he won’t be there to stare.

(Was she really so afraid of him?)

So Nesta lives her life and drinks her coffee, wears her tank tops and sleeps in her underwear, finally a woman in the way she’s always wanted to be; she feels discrete from the rest of the world but in a near comforting way. She has no one to disappoint, no one to miss. Her world is confined to very few people and her mind allows for one.

•

But there are things that trip her up. Remaining ties.

One such: the nightlight clipped to her bed. It’s cheap, a gaudy silver. She’s sure Azriel bought it for no more than two dollars.

But she uses it every night.

(This trips her up.)

It’s a routine she’s given to herself, written into the margins of her life; she climbs into bed, smooths the blankets over her legs, grabs her book, opens it on her lap, then twists and switches on the light. It illuminates the page with a pretty, golden sun. She uses it religiously. She thinks that if she lost it, some intrinsic part of her might be lost as well, and this frightens her.

Remaining ties should be snipped. These last threads should be spooled up, put away, hidden in the bottom drawer.

She switches it on anyway, watches the light trace the letters.

(Sometimes she thinks she is the black stamp of letters. The utter bleakness of them on the smooth page. Sometimes she thinks she is what ruins the paper. She is what ruined the paper. There’s a reason she is here and they are there.)

•

November 19th.

Happy birthday to me.

She buys a cake from the supermarket and blows out the candle.

There’s a knock at the door, late at night. Not thinking to check, she goes to open it, and there stands Azriel, still in the doorway, bottle of wine in hand.

“Happy birthday,” he says bluntly.

She lets him in for some reason she still doesn’t understand, and they end up drinking a glass together. It’s from Cassian, the wine—his favorite. Azriel tells her that Cassian didn’t think she’d take it from him.

“So he asked you,” she says.

He smiles. “Because you like me.”

1:00 AM, and they’re still drinking. They barely talk. They just sit; they sit on the kitchen stools, then the rickety chairs, then the floor, then the couch, then back to the floor. His cheeks are pink, his words slurred.

“Why’d you come?” she asks, peering down at where he lays, splayed out, on the carpet.

(He’s not the kind for favors, she knows that.)

Opening his eyes, he fixes his gaze on her. He smiles sleepily.

“Happy birthday, Nesta.”

•

She doesn’t really celebrate for the holidays. Her apartment is bare, save a pair of twinkling bells on the kitchen counter, tied with a red ribbon. Sometimes when she’s cooking she’ll give them a little ring.

The letter comes in the mail—from Feyre, clearly put there by her own hand. It’s an invitation to dinner, for the winter solstice. They’re celebrating early this year because they’re going out of town for a few weeks.

(Please don’t feel pressured to come. We were going to leave you be but Az, since he’s so considerate, thought you might appreciate an invite.)

Nesta picks up her phone and texts Feyre a simple no thanks.

•

The next morning, she opens her door to a bottle of wine. Its neck is tied with a cherry red ribbon, and there’s a note—“If you’re ever lonely, give me a call. It’s my favorite.”

She doesn’t need to see who it’s from to know.

She smiles and picks it up, taking it inside.

•

It bites, the loneliness.

She wasn’t prepared for the quiet.

She traded in insults and jabs and sweaty hands at dinner tables for nothing, nothing, nothing. Silence in the shower, silence over breakfast. Over time, it’s begun to grate on her skin, sift between the strands of her hair, and she feels like she’s swimming a meter below the surface, ears clogged, vision blurred.

And slowly, she’s started to cry; she cries when the silence is too loud, when her aloneness is real, when she realizes the ugly truth of it all. She’s alone, she has nobody, she’s alone.

She picks up her phone and dials his number. “Let’s drink your wine.”

A small quiet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I know, Nesta,” he laughs. “I’ll be there.”

•

They don’t drink at all, actually. She starts crying again the minute she sees his face.

“Nesta?”

•

“I’m fine, really.”

They’re walking down the aisle of the grocery store, weeks later.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m doing better, I am.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. Pick a flavor. We’ll eat it, we’ll watch a movie.” He looks her up and down, brow creased. “You need two things—no, make that three things.”

She huffs a laugh, sticking her hand into the freezer and pulling out a carton. “What?”

“Sleep, ice cream, and company.” He grins. “And now you’ve got me.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.”

•

He’s seen her beautiful; he’s seen her ugly. He’s seen her in her rattiest apron with flour crusted into her fingernails. He’s seen her laugh so hard she cries, watched her slam her head into an open cupboard door, driven her to the hospital when she sliced her hand open with a knife. They’re together a lot, she realizes. They’re not halves; they’re one and one, and one and one make two, and they stand as two together on sidewalks, squinting at menus in the windows of restaurants, and they pet dogs in the park (Nesta always asks, because Az gets shy), and they take walks at midnight, and they live their lives contentedly next to each other’s. She starts to wonder if he splits his life into two—into Cassian and Rhys and Mor and Feyre, and into her, the girl who walked away. She’d like to know why he followed her.

Sometimes she’ll catch herself staring. Even before Cassian, she’d thought Azriel was the most beautiful of the three; all graceful, sloping shadows, soft and deep eyes, curling black hair. Her heart doesn’t know what to do anymore. It skips a beat when she sees him, but calms when she’s near him. It races when he leans close, falls to steadiness when he slings his arm over her shoulders. She can’t decide if she loves him like this or loves him like that. He means so much to her, means so many different things, that to give him a singular word wouldn’t fit.

She calls him Azriel, Az, Steve, Steven Shadow, Mr. Shadow, Ralph, Ron, He of the Candied Pecans, You. He responds to all of it. Recently he told her that it wasn’t because of the name, but because of the voice—(of course I don’t know who Ralph is, Nesta, but your voice, it’s your voice you use for me)—and she felt warm for reasons she couldn’t understand.

She shows up unannounced at his apartment when it’s a bad night. He does the same.

•

“Tell me the truth,” she begins, tipsy. “Did you like me before?”

“What?”

“Did you like me before?”

He frowns. “Elaborate.”

“Before you learned I’m a nice person. Back at the townhouse. When I hated everyone and was rude to you.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little. “I always liked you,” he says, and then his face settles into something like sadness. Nesta watches him closely. “I didn’t like… the way you made me feel, though. I’d see you down the hall, tired and everything, a stick of a person, and Rhys would make some joke, and I’d hate him.”

She blinks.

He looks down. “I’d never hated him before.”

There’s a tension between them. It’s common enough to be recognizable, but not enough to be familiar. She’s on edge, unsure.

The silence seeps in.

“And I hated myself, too,” he says. His eyes flick back up to hers.

Her breath catches in her chest. “I hated myself because I didn’t do anything. So I stayed away.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, overwhelmed. Everything is building; everything is quiet. His eyes are deep and dark and swirling. He shakes his head slightly, leaning closer, slowly, slowly, and she sees it all happen—he takes her face in his hands. She can see the stray strand of hair on his forehead, the one eyelash resting by his nose, the mole right above his mouth.

“I watched you fade,” he breathes. “I watched them pull you around.”

She twines one finger into his hair, trying to bring him closer, trying to have him closer. Come here, Azriel. Come with me. Be with me, love me, because I love you.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, because it’s all she can say.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, and kisses her.

•

“Wait,” he says, reaching up.

“What?”

He touches the nightlight. “You kept this?”

She laughs, curled into his side, and says, “Of course I did.” He drops a kiss to her hair. “They all bought me books. You made it easy to read them.”

—-

@acosfisfeysandpropaganda I finally wrote it!!

[imuybemovoko]

G̴̛̗̟͒͒͑̇̈e̵̢̧̦̗͔̦̼̗̖͉̋n̵̿̈́͑̈́͐̉͑͋̿͂̓͜͠͠ḍ̵̫͒̂͌͗̔̉̚͜͝ė̴̼̞̤̯̗͈̩̥̦͊͋̽͛̆̉͘ŗ̴̥̞̜̫̇̄͊͝ͅ.̵̖͖͓̳̭̤̳̖̯̲̰̇̌̿͋̾̓̈́̾͘̚͝ͅ

If you’d told me three or four years ago where I’d be today, I’d probably have said you were crazy.

As a defense mechanism.

Let’s get into this shit. Using ✨art✨.

(CW: vague discussions of religious trauma, dysphoria, transphobia, homophobia, etc.; art depicting the above and a good bit of blood and violence and also a gun)

In late 2021, I made a series of three drawings in an attempt to somewhat express my journey through this, each based on me at a different phase in my life. I think I’ve improved quite a lot at this kind of art since I did this, but it still holds up, at least to some extent. I may rework these one day, but for now, I’d like to share them on here I guess.

Here’s the first.

Yeah. First one is a bit vicious. I started out by tracing my dumb ass in this weird horrible picture from summer 2020, where I had this awful mess of a beard (I don’t think this drawing captures just how bad the beard was; imagine patchy, unintentional chinstrap because the moustache bit was thin and stupid and the rest of it was thin and stupid but in a way that didn’t look so bad when I had it a couple of inches long) that I grew for reasons I can’t fully articulate but suspect I can boil down to “I wasn’t ready”. 

And then there’s the chains, and then all the shit shoved into my body. A mix of nails and tools, a CD, a bracket that holds the rifle in place, and, I suppose most notably, the Bible stabbed right the fuck into my chest with a big damn kitchen knife. 

This is a representation of every role, every terrible ideology, etc. that was shoved into me growing up, and of the impact that it had on me. I’m trapped, in a weird dark fuckin prison cell, and heavily injured. The bEfOrE tImE was a painful mess.

So this one is based on an image of myself in early 2021, when I was unpacking all the shit that happened and I’d shaved the beard. Sometimes healing is a painful process that starts with tearing a lot of things out of your life, and that’s pretty much exactly what I was going for here.

Also, I’ve situated myself in some weird dingy warehouse, basically a hiding place. For like a lot of reasons. I wasn’t ready for much of anyone to know the journey I was on at this point, because I thought things would go bad if they did. When the reference image was taken, I hadn’t fully figured it out myself. I was still doing a lot of “huh, gender is funky, isn’t it. I’ll unpack how shaving my beard felt ...later, when I’m not so busy.” 

This was a time of exploration, but it was a process that I kept from everyone except some close friends during it. Aside from leaving Christianity, anyway. I was a bit of an asshole about that one for a few months, honestly. But this is meant to be after that, when I started actually healing instead of just lashing out.

Anyway, the amount of weird 3 AM mental breakdowns between the time this image represents and the time of the next one is ...fairly intense. 

And here’s me in like January of 2022, plus a couple of scars I don’t have IRL  but that I carried over across this series of drawings, and standing in a fully made-up space. (Reference photo was taken against a brick wall lmao) Aside from the scars, there are a few relics from the other images in here, most notably the gun hanging above the window. Almost a year after this drawing, that’s a look I replicate almost exactly on a fairly regular basis in colder weather, though I typically use a belt instead of suspenders with those cargo pants. 

The shape of that picture frame is a little nod to my chosen name. I don’t think I’d fully decided on it when I drew this, but it was easily the strongest candidate by then.

Basically these drawings represent a process of me slowly figuring out that I am  ✨the LaCroix of women ✨, “none binary with left girl”, etc. I don’t like using super specific labels, but I do like shitposting (don’t worry, I mean both of those dumb shitposts in a good way, if I still hated myself I’d still have that fuckin beard lol), and I’m some flavor of transfeminine and nonbinary that they/she pronouns roughly captures. 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Hope for the future

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )        

The planet Alia near the edge of human territory and had grown from it's species first colony outside of their home system of a sparse few settlers to a thriving metropolis of millions.

The shinning spires of metal and glass of the planet's mega cities pierced the skies like the hand of an angry god reaching out to the heavens and the wealth and prosperity that flowed from it's vast trade network and supported the outlying colonies for further expansion. Yet for all their wealth and prosperity the fate that had been decided for this world was something that could not be changed.

A massive seismic event occurred on Alia shortly after it's new year celebration. The planet's tectonic plates became highly volatile and a series of growing earthquakes began triggering around the globe. Within a week of the events triggering a massive shattering happened and the plates shifted violently without warning.

Oceans swelled and receded, mountains crumbled and volcanos detonated, rivers changed direction and howling winds ripped across the lands so intense it shredded flesh from the bone of any foolish unfortunate enough to be caught in the open. Countless buildings shook and toppled and thousands if not hundreds of thousands died in the ensuing chaos as entire cities were swallowed beneath the cold surface of the planet.    

Communication with Alia was lost and though the rest of the wider galaxy was unable to establish contact their response was already put into motion.

The human governing body organized a massive relief effort and was further bolstered by neighboring alien domains that shared trade with Alia and had heard of the travesty. Before the tectonic plates had even stopped shifting a fleet of relief ships from a dozen worlds was already enroute.

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Dust slid off the toppled column like a waterfall as Uto lifted it. The Vorka's muscles straining and bulging as he used all of his strength hefted the massive concrete pillar. His breathing calm and measured as he breathed in rhythm with his lifting. He lifted the mass over his head and in a single motion cast it aside with a deafening *THUMP!*  

When the dust settled aide workers rushed passed Uto and cleared the rubble that had been underneath the column and in short order a door was revealed. Uto bent down and punched his fist through the metal door and ripped it off it's hinges. A dozen pairs of eyes looked up at him as he removed the door from his arm and dropped it harmlessly to the ground before gently extending a hand down. One of the people in the shelter took his hand and he carefully lifted them out into the open.

"Res ease, hue-mn." Uto struggled with human language, his tongues struggling to form the correct words.

He set the human, a scrawny female Uto wagered, to the ground. She looked up at him with a mixture of emotions dancing across her face before throwing her arms around Uto and hugging him. Uto stood transfixed as the female wept and thanked him over and over as the other rescue workers began lifting the remaining survivors from the shelter.

Unsure how to react Uto stood still for several moments before one of the rescue workers took the still sobbing woman away with the remaining survivors. Uto watched the frail female leave before turning his gaze back across the now ruins of the capital city.

Numerous fires still burned across the entire metropolis; some scattered around the ground while others burned high up in the few remaining sky scrapers that had not toppled during the quake. Roadways were cluttered with thick dunes of debris ranging from metal beams to massive chunks of concrete turning the landscape into some horrid nightmare forest.

Portions of the city's sea wall had broken and sections of the city itself had drifted into the ocean. Sky scrapers that once stood over 300 stories tall now appeared as nothing more than tiny isles just breaking the waterline.  

Though he kept his thoughts to himself, Uto was amazed by the level of devastation nature still could have on modern civilizations.

He stood their for several minutes taking in the catastrophe before heading back and resuming the rescue work. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several long hours passed with further rescue efforts across the entire city before their overseer called for a crew change and Uto's team began heading back to their hospital ship to rest.

If the shattered city was unpleasant to look at at during the day it was terrifying to look at at night. Nearly all of the power grid sections had been destroyed leaving the vast roadways shrouded in a darkness so thick it felt as if Uto could reach out and grab hold of a chunk of it.

His team was murmuring among themselves with Uto only half paying attention to their conversation when he spotted something down a side street between two toppled buildings. A single light was waving back and forth slowly from beyond the darkness like a beacon of old warning wayward travelers.

Uto held up a hand and pointed to the light and his team stopped and followed his direction.

"Another survivor?"

"Out here? Wasn't this area already swept?"

"Maybe they missed one."

The rescue team debated among themselves before Uto sighed and began walking towards life.

"No mazer," Uto spoke, "we help all."

With that the rest of the rescue team began following after Uto.

As the team came closer to the light they were able to better make out the surrounding area. The weak light appeared to be a lantern hanging from a wooden pole hanging from a small building at the end of the side street. A tiny structure with half it's walls caved in but the remaining structure appearing sturdy enough to support the roof.

"You smell something?" one of the rescue workers said quietly.

Uto sniffed the air and realized there was indeed a strange smell in the air that did not belong in such a wasteland.

"I'd recognize that smell anywhere." Another of the rescue workers spoke before pushing their way forward.

Uto made to grab him fearing the way ahead was unstable but they were too fast and they were already making their way inside through the broken wall section before shouting "Everyone, get in here!"

At that Uto and the other rushed forward expecting the worst but were confounded once they entered the building.

Rather than the gutted remains they had expected the inside of the building was semi clean and well lit. The worker who had rushed forward was sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room with another human handing him a steaming bowl. At seeing the other workers they raised their hand with the bowl to show them.

"It's a ramen store!"

While the word was unknown to Uto it seemed familiar to the others who then in turn piled in and began sitting down at what tables still stood. The man behind the counter appeared to be an elderly human but moved as if the years had only effected his exterior rather than his reflexes and soon there was a warm bowl of ramen for everyone present.

Uto stepped towards the counter and two of his team members parted to allow him a seat. As he took it the old man handed him a bowl.

"For your hard work." the man said as he smiled.

Uto looked at the bowl then at his team. All of them were eagerly eating and the mood was one of joy and comradery; a steep contrast to the dread they had been dealing with as they sifted through the remains of the city.

"Ssank ou." Uto muttered as he began sampling the contents of his bowl. It was a flush of flavor the likes Uto had not had since he was on his homeworld. Warm and delicious, almost disarming in it's nature to such a degree that when Uto looked up and for a moment felt as if he wasn't in the ruins of a once proud city.

When Uto finished his bowl and set it down the elderly man was ready and handed him another.

"Why ssssay here?" Uto asked the man, now curious about this human living alone.

The elderly man waved a hand around the building as he continued cooking. "This restaurant  has been in my family for three generations now; I could no more leave it than I could chop off my own arm."

Uto looked back at the ruined walls and roof as portions of the shingles slid off and shattered to the ground. "I am sorry is ruined." To his surprise the elder man chuckled.

"It is not ruined, only broken."

The man must have saw the confusion on Uto's face and he continued. "In my culture when something has been broken it is, like a vase or cup, it is not thrown away and discarded but instead mended with gold to heal the wounds and restore it."

Uto shook his head at the man's remarks. "Iz confusing."

"Is it?" The old man pointed to Uto's arms. "You are covered in cracks and scars yourself, yet you did not resign yourself to languish in the trash and be forgotten."

The man handed out several more bowls before fully turning to Uto. "This city has been broken and many have been lost, the wounds are fresh and feel as if they will never heal again; but in time the city will rebuild and the streets will once again be filled with the sounds of joy once more."

"Ruins are only made when those who remain are unwilling to rebuild what was lost."

Uto pondered the man's words and again looked at his team as they mingled. Their faces were filled with joy and hope he did not think any would have after witnessing such devastation first hand.  

"Ou are very wize." Uto tilted his head in acknowledgement to the old man who seemed to blush slightly and laugh.

He sheepishly waved to the store again. "It comes with owning a ramen shop." He leaned in close and whispered "All the best ones have sage advice; it makes the food taste better."

The two laughed and sat the night away, a tiny corner of joy in a city though broken, would never be defeated.