#angst may be coming

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[canisalbus]

What if I told you that RoobrickMarine went and wrote an entire novella starring my 16th century dog couple? It's very canon-adjacent, well researched and thoughtfully put together, has inspired me a ton during these past months and it's now publicly available at AO3. I highly recommend it.

✦ Separation ✦

[kindaasrikal]

Lloyd would be a messy eater. Food on his clothes, hair, all over the table, on the floor, everywhere.

Nya is the type to choke things down her throat without swallowing. She likes eating, but it’s too time consuming, so she just takes one huge bite of the whole thing and swallows.

Jay is the type to wanna watch something whilst eating. He sets the food on his lap, turns on the TV or goes onto youtube, and just watches whatever as he munches.

Kai is a fast eater. Not on purpose or anything, he just eats unusually fast. Leaves zero mess too.

Cole hates leaving any food on his plate. Like, he’s not gonna waste it, and theres only a bit left, so he might as well painstakingly eat the last bits for the sake of satisfaction of a clean plate.

Wu doesn’t eat (he doesn’t need to as often). He drinks tea.

Zane doesn’t need to eat. But he likes to. He guilt trips Wu into eating with the “poor, lonely, slow eater” Zane.

Bonus:

Morro casually forgets to eat, so Wu always had to call him down to eat at specific times with a meal in hand. After he left, he would always feel hungry at a specific time three times a day and could not rest until he had something to eat.

Skylor likes the cooking part more than the eating part, mainly because she’s never satisfied with eating her own food, but someone needs to test them to make sure they’re good for the shop. She does like soup though.

Pixal became the chosen one for Skylor when she shared how she wished to try eating more unique foods.

[shoot-i-messed-up]

Was always worried about the angst of unrequited love, had never realized the sheer amount of comedic potential that it has.

Imagine one-sided Superbat where Clark is fully aware that Bruce has a crush on him but is being his repressed self about it, and Clark is just like, “I’m not gonna touch that :) you’re going to figure that out for yourself, buddy, and in the meantime, I’m just going to have a good time and be best friends with you as you inevitably pull yourself together enough to either fall out of love or to confess :) and I’ll just let you down gently because I care about you :)” but he absolutely 100% is using it to his advantage in the meantime. His puppy dog eyes had never been so effective before. He’s gotten out of Monitor Duty three times in the past month.

[pastafossa]

"Don't Let Go" (Michael Kinsella x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for Day Six of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! I chose the angst prompt, "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." with Michael Kinsella! I originally planned to use all three prompts (the above plus 'love bites' and 'spread your legs for me') but this one just sorta worked beautifully focusing on the angst prompt alone, despite my plan. May come back and do a sequel with the other two prompts eventually. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, blood, injury care, mention of reader briefly held hostage, language, mention of domestic violence, some shouting and breaking things (Michael is very angry here, just not at you).

His hands shaking, Michael cleaned you up in the bathroom.

You weren’t sure if that tremor was due to fear, or… or exhaustion, maybe. He probably hadn’t gotten much sleep the past two nights while you’d been missing, held captive in an abandoned building by a group of men who’d been looking to blackmail the Kinsella family. It hadn’t worked out well for them based on the dead bodies you’d seen when Michael had grimly carried you out past his brothers, his hands stained heavily with blood and smelling of fresh gunpowder. 

It was those hands—the very same hands that had so recently dealt out death and destruction—that now tended gently to your wounds. With barely a word save a soothing murmur whenever you winced, he washed away the crusted grime and dried blood from your body in the shower before settling you down on the side of the porcelain tub. Once you were comfortable, he set about cleaning out and bandaging the bloody cuts on your hands and face, the torn skin on your wrists left by the handcuffs, and the burns along your forearm from the cigarettes one man had decided to put out against your skin when you’d spat in his face.

With every injury Michael cared for, however, the more his hands shook, his breathing growing sharper, hissing out from between his clenched teeth. 

No. This wasn’t fear or exhaustion making his hands shake, you realized. This was… 

He rose from where he’d been kneeling in front of you. He stared down at you for a moment with those dark eyes of his, taking all of you in for the first time since bringing you back home—taking in every last swollen bruise and vicious cut, every bandage and mark of pain left behind by those who had wanted to harm his family by using you against him.

…This was rage.

He snatched up the first aid kit, turned, and hurled it with a furious scream. It shattered against the wall in the hall, its impact leaving a crumbling hole in the drywall. Gauze and ointment, bottles of pills and splinters of plastic scattered left and right.

“Michael,” you said weakly. “I’m ok now.”

It was as if he hadn’t even heard you. “I’m goin’ ta find the rest of ‘em and kill 'em for this!” he snarled savagely, his accent even thicker in his fury. Gone was the gentle lilt, the familiar softness he always seemed to gain in his voice when he spoke to you or about you. Now he was every inch the dangerous Kinsella that so many feared, though not you. Never you. Even now you weren’t afraid, despite the way he whirled and paced wildly in front of you, as if looking for the very same ones who’d so recently hurt you. This was rage in your defense, and that made all the difference. 

“Michael—”

“They think I can’t find ‘em?” he spat. “They really think I can’t? I’ll hunt down every last fuckin’ one’a them filthy little cunts fer puttin’ their hands on ya! By the time I’m done wit’ em, there won’t be enough’a their fuckin’ bodies left for their mams to bloody bury!”

This time it was the drinking glass on the counter that paid the price. It flew out into the hall to shatter violently against the wall just beside the mark left by the first aid kit. Glittering shards of glass, some pieces still damp, joined the rest of the debris on the floor.  

“Michael.” You heaved yourself upright on shaky legs, wobbly as a newborn fawn. And it hurt, it hurt to move, cuts tugging, body aching. You tried to blink the dampness away in your eyes, not now, come on. “It’s alright—” “Don’t tell me it’s alright when they hurt ya!” he roared. But the moment he swung back around to face you and saw you on your feet, he spat out a curse. He stormed across the bathroom before you could take more than a step. “Daft woman, sit your arse back down before ya fall over!”

One hand still braced against the wall, you lifted your other arm quickly towards him. He lurched to a stop before he could touch you, an expression of horror twisting across his face, all furrowed brow and parted lips. Only then did you realize what that must have looked like to him—your arm held up to fend him off, trying to stop him from coming towards you, tears in your eyes as if you were… as if you were terrified of him and what he had been doing. 

Gone in a breath was the rage, the fury, replaced by a gutted, heartbroken grief. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have said he was about to cry, too. “Ya didn’t think I was goin’ to…” he whispered, swallowing hard and taking a cautious step back. “I… I swear, pet, I would never—” 

“God, no, Mikey. I know you weren’t going to hit me,” you croaked, trying to put your arm out again in a more welcoming way, and if your breath started to hitch, tears now beginning to roll down your cheeks despite your best efforts, well, surely you were entitled to that, because it had been a horrible few days and the longer you stood here, the more you began to shiver and hurt. It had only been a few minutes since you’d been in his arms, but your body clearly wasn’t ready yet for even that much separation. Emotion welled up inside you like a dark wave, endless, bottomless. You were terrified you’d drown beneath it without him to help you keep your head above water. “I was trying to… could you come over here and… and hold me? I just need…”

He caught you just as the first choked sob tore its way out of your throat, the strength of the sound so violent, so raw it almost frightened you. One of his arms quickly wound around your waist, pulling you in against the comforting, familiar warmth and strength of his chest. His other hand rose to gently cradle the back of your head, bringing your head down so you could bury it against his neck. He rumbled low, soothing notes into your ear, tender words of comfort as you desperately tried to breathe in the scent of whiskey and leather, gun oil and rain between your heaving breaths and broken sobs.

“There ya go. Shh, I’ve got ya now, pet,” he whispered, laying his cheek against your hair. He shifted the two of you carefully across the floor until he could ease himself down on top of the toilet seat, pulling you slowly into his lap. You went without a fight, clinging to him, the fabric of his shirt held tight between your fists as if it were your lifeline. “I’ve got ya now. Let it all out. I’m here, darlin’. Yer safe with me.” 

“Don’t let go,” you choked out, “Please.” “Never. I promise.”

[slightlyartist]

hello!

do you have any headcanons about emma-may (tate's mom)?

EMMA-MAY MY BELOVED!! I have a bunch of HCs!

She genuinely was in love with Fiddleford, but Fidds always felt a bit off in that marriage (throwing my HC that he is a closeted gay man with religious guilt but this isn't about him).

She tried SO hard to make the marriage work, blaming it even on herself for not being enough, and feeling undesirable at times.

She is so concerned about Tate's (canonical) intelligence. She doesn't want her son to end up crazy or absent like his father, so she constantly reminds him that he IS smart, but doesn't need to go to great lengths to prove it. You can be smart but desire a simple life, and that's okay, no need to do extraordinary things to be extraordinary.

She remarried! She is with someone who loves her the way she deserves. <3

She was terrified when Tate decided to go to Gravity Falls to take care of Fidds. She already lost the man she once loved, she doesn't want to lose her son as well. Tate promised to keep in touch and visit her every once in a while.

Christmas is bittersweet for her. She always tried to come up with nice gifts for Tate, but they didn't have a lot of money so she and Fidds always ended up handcrafting and building them. When Fidds came back from Gravity Falls empty-handed, it drove her nuts because she'd been singlehandedly taking care of their son for 6-7 months straight and getting some gifts during holidays was the least she expected. Discovering Fiddleford handcrafted multiple thoughtful gifts to Ford didn't help the case.

Aimed for a "traditional family" and a simple life. Got neither of those until she remarried.

"A single mom who works two jobs, who loves her kid and never stops, with gentle hands and the heart of a fighter, I'm a survivor"

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I think the underground intern surgery club would be a point of contention between Lena and Lexie. I can see Lexie chafing under the treatment they experience at the hands of the residents, and falling prey to peer pressure.

But between being competent enough to earn a modicum of respect from the residents, and being confident enough in herself to learn by observing and practicing on fruit and grocery meat, the other interns would probably know not to include her.

And when Lena eventually follows Lexie to where the club is doing their thing, and sees them doing their thing, she's livid. She confronts Lexie, and tells her how stupid she's being, and Lexie is all "you don't understand, they actually let you do things!"

They part in anger and an ultimatum from Lena: "stop this, or we're done."

Which means Lexie continues, and a rift forms between them. Things are icy, but Lena doesn't say anything to the residents. It's the only acquiescence she makes. Until one night one of the interns has the bright idea to do a practice appendectomy on themselves.

When things go south during the procedure, because of course they do, Lexie doesn't immediately turn to the residents for help.

"Someone get Lena."

Lena immediately goes into surgeon mode the instant she sees the tableau before her. She moves into position and starts working to stabilizing the "patient", even as she starts barking orders of her own.

"Go get Bailey and Yang. Now!"

When Bailey and Yang arrive, they help Lena through the procedure without banishing her. After, Lena earns a commendation from the chief of medicine while the other interns are put on probation.

When the chief is done chewing out the interns, he's about to leave when Lena speaks up.

"Sir."

The chief turns back to look at her.

"With all due respect, sir, this did not happen in a vacuum. This happened because you built a team of brilliant, driven doctors and then failed to utilize them to their full potential. We are all here to learn, and not all of us are being given sufficient opportunity to do so."

The chief's face hardens, outrage creeping in around the ages, but Lena does not quail.

"We are expected to perform procedures we've barely even observed, let alone practiced. I have learned more from my textbooks than I have from this *teaching* hospital! And yes, what these fully grown and highly educated adults did was incredibly dangerous and *stupid*, but sometimes.... sometimes stupidity is born from desperation."

The chief stares long and hard at Lena, seemingly on the verge of an imminent and vicious reprimand. But then, shockingly, he relents.

"I agree." He turns towards the line of observing residents. "Earlier this year Seattle Grace Hospital was ranked 12th in the nation. Since then, I have seen more and more of the deficiencies that led to that outcome. Moving forward, things will be different. Very, very different."

The residents all look at their feet, suitably chastized. After one last hard look, the chief dismisses them. "Now all of you, go home."

The assembled doctors all turn to leave, all except Lexie, who hesitantly makes her way towards Lena.

"Thank you--"

Before she can finish, Lena turns and walks away without a word.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

hi dove!!! i love your new event, the vibe is so fun and relaxing (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ could i request floyd with no.8? for backups maybe leona with no.9 or jamil with no.2? thanks!! as always don't overwork yourself ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

side note: pls no angst the pain from last time is still here(⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

Fairytale Scene; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, some really soft Leona

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Had to use your first backup, as Floyd got snatched up, but I hope you enjoy this fluffy scene and soft lion! [Damn, those eels go fast]

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

An old vinyl was playing slowly on the record player, a slow jazz ensemble letting out low notes. It was pleasant, the calm music mixing with the gentle crashing of the waves coming onto shore, and the filtered sunlight coming through the linen curtains and warming up your skin. There was no rushing, no tasks that needed to be urgently done, and no one to boss you around. You could definitely get used to this. 

“You’re looking right at home there,” a soft chuckle broke you from your relaxed spell. Leona was standing in front of you, giving you a curious look. “Like a house cat sunbathing.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fitting coming from you.” You stretched out, and rolled off of the chaise you were lounging on. 

Leona sighed in mock annoyance, but he could get used to seeing you without the weight of all your responsibilities resting on your shoulders. You looked — and by all the lounging you had been doing since you had both arrived — and felt lighter as well. And in the golden sunlight? Leona swore that you were glowing.

You lazily walked over to him, placing your arms around his neck. “Is something bothering you?”

Bothering me? “No, nothing at the moment,” he said quietly. What was there to be bothered by? The two of you were together, and there was no one around to annoy the both of you. “And you?”

You hummed along to the song playing, “Nope!~” You let out a breathy chuckle and started to gently sway back and forth to the music. “Would you care to join me for this dance… your majesty?~” 

Leona groaned at the nickname; you only brought it out when you were feeling teasing. He didn’t mind though, since it didn’t hold the weight it did at the palace, or the mocking tone that others sometimes used. You just were being a teasing menace and a cute one at that.

Letting out a showy sigh he adjusted your hands so that he was holding one and the other was placed on his waist. “I suppose I can spare one for you,” he said lowly, voice barely above a grumble. 

The two of you swayed gently together to the soft music, gentle swaying, and long, slow, looping circles around the room. You were still humming the non-existent lyrics to the song, and Leona hummed softly from time to time as well, adding to the melody. Never did he think that he would end up in such a scene; dancing with someone he loved so dearly in something that he could only explain as a fairytale scene. It was soft, domestic, tender, and filled with such innocent love. All things that Leona had convinced himself that he didn’t want. But then you came into his life. You threw a wrench into his life, but what a lovely wrench it turned out to be.

The song came to an end far too soon, and the two of you came to a slow standstill, still in each other’s loose embrace. Neither of you made a move to let go, instead you both just stood there, hand in hand, your hand on his waist, and his on yours.

“You make for a good dance partner,” you chuckle.

Leona raised a brow, “And are you surprised by that?”

You bring his hand to your lips, placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist while looking at him through your lashes. “No, it’s just endearing is all.”

Leona had received kisses from you before, both soft and passionate, but this one actually made his heart flutter. He didn’t know how to feel about it, but he did know that the way you looked at him just then… he wanted you to look at him with such adoration again and again and again. It was addictive.

He brought your hand to his lips, and returned the kiss, letting it linger so he could feel your steady pulse. Perhaps the two of you should come out here more often if this was what happened… Leona could spend the rest of his life with you in this picturesque moment.

~~~~~~~

Tags: @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @leonistic, @savanaclaw1996, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[nell0-0]

The tragedy of missing someone who’s no longer there

I came across this poem in tiktok and brainrot went ‘submas submas submas’ so-

Here’s the whole poem!

You’re half here and half gone,

because I half love you

and I’ve half let you go.

You are in a state of limbo

I don’t know how to overcome:

half whole, half ghost,

half real, half not. 

Nobody taught me

how to love in fractions

(I am always all in),

so I am here standing

on the line of division:

half healing, half haunted. 

- Iron & Velvet: poetry for hearts breaking and blooming (by Stefanie Briar). 

[anianurst]

OMG IGNORE THE OTHER ASK ME I MEANT MORE BIG BROTHER SUKUNA ur first one was rlly good (poor yuji) but it was rlly good 😜

summary: being with sukuna is like riding a seesaw. good thing his sweet, younger brother, yuji, is there to hear about your problems and be a shoulder to lean on. too bad you don't feel the same for him.

a/n: a part two! i wanted to continue with the band au thing that I wrote about in the first part. i was rewatching victorious and oml jade and beck is kinda of what i picture y/n and sukuna being like (but like more intense). song used is "you don't know me" by Elizabeth gillies (the actress for jade) (here's the link)

warning(s): mentions of toxic relationship, sexual acts!!, leading on (mostly on yuji's part), one-sided feelings (again on yujis part I'm sorry bb), mentions of manga characters not yet introduced in the anime (yorozu and kashimo hajime)

"I told you that I don't want you talking to her anymore! She keeps fucking flirting with you, and I don't like it!" you yell at Sukuna, and like always he rolls his eyes at your antics. Scoffing, you cross your arms and wait for Sukuna to say something, anything at this point to ease your worries.

"Yeah, and I fucking told you that you're overreacting. Yorozu's always like that," he replied, his face pulled into a nasty scowl, his eyes narrowing into a cold gaze. His words do little to ease your anger (or worry) and cause more rage to flare in you.

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's it? That's your excuse for her basically fucking herself on you the entire night?!" you scoff. You think back to how this whole fight started, and a deep pit at the bottom of your stomach starts to form.

Why hadn't you listened to your friends? They knew the type of guy Sukuna was and they warned you about getting involved with him. How someone like him would never allow himself to be tied down to one girl. How he wasn't "boyfriend" material at all.

And they were right. Even though your relationship with Sukuna had evolved past that of a one-night stand to the point where you'd see each other for dinner or even movies, that didn't stop him from basking in the attention of other girls, Yorozu specifically.

Ugh, you hated her the moment that Sukuna had introduced the two of you. The boom of the music that always filled you with a rush of adrenaline and energy seemed to dull as your eyes landed on the girl who clutched onto Sukuna's arm and pushed her boobs into his frame. Her love-sick eyes that always followed him and that ugly high-pitched laugh of hers set off something ugly in you.

The sound of the door opening makes the two of you turn. Yuji walks through the door, his gym bag slung on his shoulder and hair a little matte with sweat. His tired figure seemingly brightens up the second his eyes fall on you, and he's smiling oh-so sweetly at you. It doesn't last long as he notices how there are tears pricking the ends of your eyes and how your arms are crossed in anger.

He's quick to put his gym bag down, head over to you, and place a hand on the small of your back. "You ok? Did Sukuna say something rude to you?" he asks, his voice and eyes filled with nothing but sincere worry and softness.

Sukuna's quick to scoff, and before he knows it, he shoves Yuji away from you. "She's fucking fine," he spits out. Without another word, he turned on the ball of his feet and headed towards his room. His door-slamming echoes throughout the apartment, and with him gone, you finally let your tears fall.

Strong, warm arms are quick to wrap around you as you let your head lean on Yuji's shoulder. Small hiccups leave your lips as Yuji whispers sweet nothings into your ears and rubs comforting circles into your back. "I-I just need to go. I'm sorry, Yuji," you say and quickly step out of his arms and grab your bag from the couch.

"I'm always here for you if you need anything," the pink-haired boy says, and there's a strange tug at your heart. A small and quick 'thanks' is all you can muster before rushing out and away from the apartment.

"You think you're so funny, huh?" Sukuna sneers at you, his eyes glaring down into yours as he holds your wrists together. His leg pushes between your thighs, and a whimper falls from your lips as you feel the familiar hot warmth pulse throughout your body.

"Do-Don't know what you're ta-talking 'bout," you manage to say, lying straight to Sukuna's face. It seems you both know that you're lying, and he lets out a deep chuckle as he lowers his lips to bite into your shoulder. A yelp escapes your lips before you try to hold back a moan.

"Really? So, you weren't throwing yourself on Kashimo like some slut?" Sukuna says back. Your eyes narrow into a glare as your gaze meets his. You can feel his boner pressing into your thigh, and you hate how you can feel yourself getting wet.

"Fuck you," you spit at him, and he laughs again.

"That's the plan, darling."

"Are you sure you are good to go on, y/n? You look like shit," Shoko says, a cig hanging from her lips. A puff of smoke follows, and you grimace as you try to wave it away from you.

"I'm good. Just kinda tired," is all you say, and Shoko doesn't look entirely impressed with your answer. She sighs before putting her cig out and holding your hand in hers.

"Maybe it's time you put an end to whatever you have with Sukuna," she whispers quietly enough so that Satoru and Suguru don't hear it (even though you're pretty sure they're listening in anyway since they, too, are worried about you). And you hate how she says it, "whatever." Shit, you hate that it accurately sums up the relationship between you and Sukuna. Because, in truth, you don't know what you and Sukuna are anymore. You two argue, you fuck, you go out to parties together and then go back to arguing. You don't remember ever having fun together like you did in the beginning. Instead, you've gotten so used to your routine that you've begun looking forward to what happens sometimes after you argue.

How when Yuji comes back to the apartment, and you and Sukuna are in the middle or nearing the end of a yelling match, he'll whisk you away and look at you with those love-filled eyes. How he'll tell you some stupid story that happened to him and his friends, or how he'll take you to the nearby ice cream shop in hopes that it'll cheer you up. How your heart feels much heavier every time you say goodbye to him, and you catch a glimpse of his red, rosy cheeks.

You know that Yuji likes you, but not in a friendly way. No, that he genuinely wants to be in Sukuna's place. He wants to treat you so much better than his older brother does. And you know he would, but you simply can't feel the same for him. No matter how much ice cream you eat or how many stories he tells you, your heart doesn't beat the same for him as it does for Sukuna. And you feel so incredibly guilty about how you let him take you away from your big-bad-scary 'whatever' and act like the two of you are together.

With a huff, you stand up and down the rest of your drink before smiling back at your bandmates. "It's almost time for us to go on."

How fucking shameless can Sukuna be? you think as your gaze sweeps the crowd and lands on him and his friends. Uraume (who you actually like and you think likes you back) is bobbing their head to the beat of the current song while Mahito cheers wildly (he's so wasted) and Hajime is sipping on his drink, and of course, Yorozu is wrapped all around Sukuna.

His eyes aren't on her, though. No, they're staring straight back into yours, and you hate how, after all this time, it still sends a shiver down your spine. The world seems to fade away as you finish the last line of the song, and you're turning to bandmates. "We're doing the new one," is all you say, and they're quick to grin back at you and follow your request.

You think you know me but you don't know me You think you own me but you can't control me You look at me and there's just one thing that you see So listen to me, listen to me!

Your grip on the mic tightens as you push your hair out of your face, a flush rising on your neck. The crowd seems to roar even louder.

You push me back, I push you back, harder, harder You scream at me, I scream at you, louder, l-l-l-l-louder I'm dangerous, I'm warning you But you're not afraid of me and I can't convince you You don't know me

Sukuna shoves Yorozu off his arm as he takes a couple steps forward. There's a smirk growing on his face as your eyes meet again, and there's an ugly but warm pleasure that spreads throughout your body.

And the longer that you stay, the ice is melting And the pain feels okay, it feels okay, hey

You think back to all your arguments with Sukuna, and for a second, you wonder if that's what love really is. Is it supposed to leave you feeling overwhelmed and enraged to the point where you feel too addicted to that same feeling? Well, whatever you think. Maybe it's not supposed to feel that way to other people, but to you and Sukuna, that's what makes the two of you work.

All the pain and yelling is what keeps your hearts beating for one another, and maybe it's toxic and not right. But who cares.

You push me back, I'll push you back You scream at me, I'll scream at you louder, louder Louder, louder, louder, louder Louder! Louder! Louder

Maybe you're both messed up to keep 'whatever' going on, destroying one another and then rebuilding one another through sex. Maybe you're more messed up for dragging poor, innocent Yuji into your hideous cycle. For making him think that perhaps one day you'll wake up and throw yourself into his arms.

You push me back, I push you back, harder, harder You scream at me, I scream at you, louder, l-l-l-l-louder I'm dangerous, I'm warning you But you're not afraid of me and I can't convince you

Poor Yuji, having feelings for someone who already seems to be taken by his cruel older brother. He watches you sing your heart out and shine so beautifully that he knows the flush on his cheeks isn't from the alcohol. He notices that your eyes always seem to go back to the same spot, and as he turns his head, his heart drops as he sees Sukuna standing there, his cheeks flushed a deep red and grin now replacing his smirk.

He watches the spark grow brighter between the two of you, and every nerve in his body tells him to leave. But he can't, not when he starts to see a love-filled grin start to spread on your face.

His heart seems to come back to life as it beats faster while he watches you perform. Someone bumps into him, and then he's brought back to the reality that your gaze and grin aren't directed at him.

And I don't have to, I think you know me

[yonemurishiroku]

Alabaster is a son of Hecate so by all logic, he should know how to manipulate the Mist, yeah? Omg, what if Luke entrusts his mother to Alabaster so when everything has ended, Al returns to May's house, disguised as her son so that she's no longer waiting in vain.

And then Nico, the homeless kid he is, chooses to visit May someday just for the sake of his conscience, sees "Luke Castellan" alive and well. His first reaction is of course "How tf are you still alive?" before trying to literally exorcise him.

Alabaster knows of Nico as one of the main reasons besides Percy Jackson that contributed to their failure. Which means that they are technically enemies still.

And then Nico tries to poke him with that soul-sucking sword.

And things just devolve from there.

[lady-quen]

Hello Guild Wars 2 community! A new poll has dropped! 🐦‍⬛

(At least, hopefully new, lol.) I'm curious, which blessing did your Commander get on their first/canon go through the Raven Sanctum in the story mission "The Invitation?" Choose and tell me in the tags why they made their specific decisions :)

Compiled explanations from the wiki below for ease of access:

The trial choices in order:

Save the wounded man or save the healers

Save the spell tome or save the historical record

Save the queen or save the prince

Blessings:

Blessing of Daybreak

"When the fear of beastly claws and a child's pain is made sharp by the knowledge of elders, we make no mistakes. But do we grow?"

Healers -> historical record -> prince

Grace of Dawn

"When wisdom is favored in all things—a healing hand, a text of old, a beloved queen—we lose the sharpened sword of the truly bold."

Healers -> historical record -> queen

Consecration of Morning

"We seek to destroy monsters with sharp claws and icy breath, but do we protect ourselves from the beasts shaped like us, who prey on the young and vulnerable, who seek to rule us?"

Healers -> spell tome -> prince

Invocation of Midday

"When we flee from the things we fear most - the teeth of beasts, the storm of a dragon, a change of power-we risk running backward."

Healers -> spell tome -> queen

Supplication of Midday

"We favor the skill of healers and the wisdom of elders over the uncertainty of the future. But the young take chances, and the young push us forward."

Wounded man -> spell tome -> prince

Consecration of Evening

"We long for the comfort of a healing touch, an ancestral word of wisdom, a leader we know and trust. But comfort is fleeting, and with it comes inertia."

Wounded man -> historical record -> queen

Grace of Dusk

"We sacrifice so much—safety from the claws of death, knowledge of the ages, a steadfast reign—to propel ourselves forward. But if we move too fast, do we risk the inability to stop?"

Wounded man -> spell tome -> prince

Blessing of Twilight

"We try so hard to do the right thing. We heal, we protect our people, we preserve stability. But we cannot control how the winds of fate may shift, and a tight grip can sometimes hurt more than it helps."

Wounded man -> spell tome -> queen

[fenharelsfang]

The Wolf's Heart (1/5)

The world was awash in a sea of blood, a crimson tide of red lyrium, the Blight, and the shadow of the forced solar eclipse. The smell of smoke and rotting flesh choked the air. People screamed in the city below the Archon’s palace. Darkspawn and other unholy creatures of the Blight stalked the streets, slaughtering anything in their path. Malevolent spirits flocked to the weakening Veil like moths to a flame, possessing any mage desperate enough to invite them in. The fear of death was a very strong motivator. In the sky, a monstrous Archdemon and a six-eyed wolf the size of a dragon fought a battle that shook the very heavens. Meanwhile, a swarm of Antaam soldiers and Venatori agents stormed the city and marched against the makeshift army of Grey Wardens, Veil Jumpers, Lords of Fortune, Antivan Crows, Mourn Watchers, Shadow Dragons, and Inquisition agents, all led by Rook, the man who inadvertently started these unfortunate chain of events.

All was not lost, though. They had successfully defeated and killed Ghilan’nain and now only Elgar’nan stood in the way. Well, Elgar’nan and Solas.

“Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me,” said Rook. He and the rest of the faction leaders were gathered around a grand oak table discussing their next steps. Neve Gallus, recently freed from Elgar’nan’s clutches, revealed to them that once the tyrannical god was defeated, the last of the Veil’s bindings would unravel and it would come crashing down. “Tearing down the Veil has been his goal since the very beginning. He already betrayed me once. It’s his whole schtick.”

“I’m still blown away by the fact that archdemons are just dragons bound to a bunch of magical elves and there were two of them flying around out here,” Warden-Commander Cousland remarked with a whistle. The effects of being a Grey Warden for the past twenty years had taken its toll on her. Her once rich auburn hair had dulled to light grey and dark purple bags sagged under her eyes. She was close to her Calling. The song of the Blight was getting difficult to block out. All those years of searching for a way to free Grey Wardens from their burden amounted to nothing. This last ditch effort to seal the Blight behind the Veil was her only salvation. She prayed it would be enough to quell the corruption in her blood. Once done, perhaps she could finally go home to her beloved King for good and enjoy their twilight years in peace. “And I thought my Blight was bad.”

“... I think I preferred Corypheus,” Hawke confessed, face ashen. She was still haunted by the horror the red lyrium she unearthed had unleashed. Now Varric was dead and Solas used blood magic to trick Rook into thinking he wasn’t. That was sick and twisted. The tale of the Evanuris needed to end and she’d be there to write that final chapter. It would end with their death.

“If anyone can stop Elgar’nan and Solas, it is the individuals gathered here,” Morrigan proclaimed with an air of confidence. She had met each of these heroes, these paragons of light and hope, and helped steer the tides of fate so that they would succeed.

“We know how to beat Elgar’nan,” Rook said. “Solas will take care of his archdemon and, when he does, we’ll throw everything we have at him. It’s what happens after that concerns me.” He looked to Neve, her blood-red eyes sending a shiver down his spine. Ugly black veins pulsed at her temples and black blood dribbled down her chin. She was inexplicably connected to the Blight now, able to feel it and, to some extent, control it. “We need a plan to stop the Veil from falling.”

“The Veil is tied to the ancient elven gods,” Morrigan said. “‘Twill not be a simple matter to find a suitable tether once they are gone.”

“Then let’s tie it to Solas,” Rook suggested. “He’s an elven god and the only one that will be left.”

Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, standing further down the table next to Morrigan and Dorian, clenched her jaw at the suggestion. Rook didn’t speak highly of the Dread Wolf. It was understandable, really. He had been used and betrayed. Varric was gone, truly gone, and now Harding was lost as well. She could see vengeance coiling around his heart like a viper. That same righteous anger radiated off of Hawke as well. It was horrible, but she … she wanted to defend him! This wasn’t the Solas she knew, the one she fell in love with. They hadn’t seen the softer shades of him: his kindness towards those who were hurting or the way he lit up like a delighted child when speaking about the Fade. He wasn’t so different from them. He had his virtues and vices, his quirks. They didn’t know the elf who detested the taste of tea, the elf who painted beautiful murals on the walls, who could play chess in his head, who had a secret love of romance novels and music. Only she had that privilege. Everyone else who knew the truth of him was gone.

Solas, what have you done?

“You are correct,” Morrigan continued, pulling Ellana out of her troubled thoughts, “but you will need to draw his blood with the lyrium dagger to bind him and I doubt he will approve of the idea.”

Rook smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I can be very persuasive.” A sigh. “But it will be risky.”

Emmrich cleared his throat. “What about this dagger we made while you were trapped in the Fade?” he suggested, sliding the fake dagger across the table. It was nearly identical to the ritual dagger strapped to Rook’s side. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. There were no reverberations of magic threaded through it like the real one. “Odds are,” Emmrich continued, “Solas will need to do something else to complete his ritual. This dagger looks identical, but–”

“It can’t cut through enchantments like the real thing,” Rook finished.

“The backlash of such magic will render him helpless,” Morrigan remarked, glancing briefly at Ellana.

Taash stepped forward. “Uh, are you sure you want to try a bait-and-switch on the Dread Wolf? You know, the god of lies and trickery?”

The leaders gathered around the table all seemed sold on that idea. Trick the trickster. Poetic justice. Ellana had been quiet for too long. She may have been speaking to the void, but her words needed to be heard. “Is there a chance, any chance at all, that he’ll listen to reason?”

“Speaking from the heart, Inquisitor?” Morrigan asked. Her smile was sad, sympathetic to the Inquisitor’s plight.

“How could I not?” Ellana protested. “None of you know him as I do. Well, perhaps you do, Morrigan, sort of. The rest of you don’t. You’ve only ever seen the Dread Wolf. I’ve seen the man beneath all of that. If given the chance–”

“We’ve given him plenty of chances,” Rook said. “And he wasted them at every turn.”

“Not every turn,” Lavellan argued. “He saved you and the Dalish elves from Elgar’nan. Even though he was free from that Fade prison, he still worked with the Shadow Dragons and helped protect them from the Blight. He wants to help. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do. His heart has never been in this plan to tear down the Veil. He just … he feels like he has to do this to make up for everything that happened in the past. Everything that he did for her, for Mythal. If I can talk to him–”

“Varric tried to talk to him,” Rook said. “He died for it.”

Ellana’s heart was a stone in her chest. Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes. “I know.”

“You already tried to talk him out of it before and he took your arm for it.”

Her fists clenched and her bottom lip trembled. “I know.”

“This isn’t a fairytale, Inquisitor. You can’t solve this with the ‘power of love’.” Rook struck the table with his fist, startling Ellana so that she opened her eyes to meet his fiery gaze. “He’s too stuck in his ways. He can’t change. Actually, it’s not even that – he won’t change. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

“Rook,” Bellara said, resting a gentle hand on his arm. “That’s enough.” She had been watching the Inquisitor slowly crumble under Rook’s words and it hurt. Ellana’s struggle to save the man she loved mirrored her own trials with Cyrian. In the end, he redeemed himself, though he paid the ultimate price for it. Bellara didn’t know the Inquisitor well, but she didn’t wish that same fate on her.

Ellana glared at Rook with angry, tear-filled eyes, but she said nothing. They were good points, she wasn’t going to deny it. It infuriated her all the same. She wanted to see Solas. Ten long years she had gone without him and she needed to see him to know for sure that he was too far gone to be brought back. From what she heard, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. She had hope that she could reach him, she just needed one more chance.

“You have options,” Morrigan interjected. “And you can make your choice when the time comes. For now, we have Elgar’nan to deal with.”

“Right,” Rook said. He let out a slow breath to simmer the boiling anger inside of him and rubbed the back of his tense, aching neck. The Inquisitor was a legend. She saved the world from a darkspawn magister and his archdemon. Thedas owed her a great debt. He never imagined someone so powerful, who made choices that determined the fate of the world could be so naive. He noticed how young she looked and began to think that maybe it wasn’t the fact that she was an elf. “Elgar’nan is in the Archon’s palace above us. We’ll all climb the tendril as soon as the archdemon is taken care of. Stock up on supplies and say your goodbyes. It’s time to end this nightmare.”

Rook was the first to leave, stalking off to check in with the faction leaders to get an update on their forces. Warden-Commander Cousland followed Davrin, no doubt burning with questions about a living, breathing griffon at his heels. Hawke disappeared into the next room to meet up with Isabela. It had been years since they’d seen each other. Most of the other members of the Veilguard left to their own factions to say goodbye to the friends and family they had made over the years. Many of these people would not be returning after this battle. Already their numbers had thinned in the first assault on the city.

Ellana meandered over to the fireplace. Morrigan watched her for a moment, poised as if ready to say something, but then thought better of it. She gripped the amulet around her neck, a sending stone, and left to a far corner to update her son on the situation. Kieran was safe, as safe as he could be with the world ending as it was. He wanted to join her, but this was a mission she needed to undertake on her own. Besides, if Elgar’nan had the power to sense the soul bound within Kieran …

Dorian joined Ellana by the fireplace. He noticed her biting her thumbnail, tapping her foot restlessly against the stone floor. Tears still shone in her eyes.

“You still love him, do you?” he asked. “After all these years?”

Ellana closed her eyes and lowered her hand. “I will always love him. He’s who I belong with.”

Dorian sighed. He reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace. “What am I going to do with you?”

They stood there for a while, staring into the fire, each consumed by their own thoughts. Ellana leaned her head against Dorian’s shoulder. She had missed him. Even with the sending stones, being so far away from him was difficult. He was her rock. When everything was falling apart, he had been there for her. The Inquisition disbanding, Solas leaving her that fateful night in Crestwood and then again after defeating Corypheus, her clan exiling her when she told them the truth about the Dread Wolf … Dorian was there to keep her going. He was her very best friend.

“Dorian, when this is over–”

“I know.”

She lifted her head off of his shoulder and stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. “You do..?”

“My dear, I could see it all over your face at the meeting.” He smiled at her, tears shimmering in his own eyes, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “And though I don’t believe he will ever be deserving of you or understand why you could love that stubborn, prideful egghead, he makes you happy. And you deserve all the happiness the world can offer.”

“Dorian…” Ellana sniffed and wiped at the tears that had slipped down her face. She felt a soft handkerchief being placed in her hand and wiped at her eyes.

“Don’t start crying, you soft-hearted fool. You’ll make me cry, too, and I refuse to be reduced to a blubbering mess.”

Ellana laughed and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, my friend,” he replied. They held each other for a long moment and when they finally separated, Dorian left to meet with Maevaris.

Ellana stood alone in that room, facing the fireplace for a moment longer and trying to formulate a plan. She would find some way to get to Solas first so they could talk, before Rook took matters into his own hands. As she turned away, she nearly collided with Neve. The mage was staring at her, still as a statue. Her black eyes pulsed with an unnerving intensity and a sinister smile spread far too wide across her face.

“Oh, Neve,” Ellana said. She tried to remember Neve’s real face beneath the corruption. Hopefully this was temporary. Something seemed … different about the mage, though. “I’m sorry. Did you … need something?”

Neve chuckled darkly as she slowly began to circle around Ellana as a predator would its prey. “So, the Dread Wolf has fallen in love,” came a voice that was definitely not Neve’s. It was male, high-pitched and gurgling as if blood filled the lungs. Her irises were a thin white ring against a black backdrop, mirroring the eclipse outside. “And with a mortal, no less. This is interesting news indeed.”

Ellana took a step back and felt the flames of the fire licking her back. Neve matched it. She was cornered and though she had never heard the voice before, the realization came over her all the same. “Elgar’nan,” she whispered.

Her cry for help was cut short by a fleshy tendril erupting from a blighted portal in the ground. It wrapped around her throat, strangling her. She threw out her gauntleted hand and the fire within the hearth snaked around it before jettisoning out at the tendril. The gauntlet was a true marvel of engineering, created especially for Ellana by her arcanist, Dagna. It acted as a staff would, focusing her magic. The tendril shrieked as the flames burned into its flesh. Footsteps and startled voices sounded elsewhere in the building, heading to her location. Another tendril burst forth to trap her body in a vice-like grip.

“Inquisitor!” Morrigan cried out as kicked open the door to the room. Lightning crackled from her fingertips and arced out towards the abominations. The acrid smell of burning flesh made Ellana’s eyes water. She felt the relief of loosening limbs and thrashed about wildly to escape. Morrigan’s attack wasn’t enough, however. More tendrils sprouted from the growing portal around them, wrapping around the Inquisitor further. Dark spots danced in her vision as the air left her. She struggled desperately against the tightening garrote. The whispers of demons promising her the strength to free herself from this horror roared in her mind like thunder, but she fought against them. Slowly, she began to sink into the portal, its red glow casting sinister shadows on her face.

More allies showed up. The Warden-Commander hacked at the tendrils with her dragonbone greataxe, but they sprouted new growths with each strike. Dorian joined Morrigan in a magical assault of lightning and fire. Even Rook struck at the tendrils with the lyrium dagger. It proved to be the most effective weapon against the aberrations. The prison that contained the blight from which they originated was created by that weapon. Pieces fell to the ground in squelching thuds before disintegrating into ash. Instinctively, they coiled tighter around the Inquisitor's body. The last thing the heroes saw was the Inquisitor’s fearful eyes as she was dragged through the portal into the earth.

“Ellana!” Dorian cried out. He slammed his fists against the stone floor as if he could crack it open. “We have to help her!”

Rook stormed up to Neve, still possessed by Elgar’nan, and shook her viciously. “Where have you taken her?!”

The black sclera faded back into white, her irises glowing red once more. Neve blinked. She looked down at Rook’s hands gripping her arms, fingernails digging painfully into her skin, and then around at the people gathered around with their weapons drawn. “Ow, Rook, that hurts! What’s going on? What happened?”

Bellara ran up to her, shocked at Rook's increasing anger. “Elgar'nan possessed you for a minute there. He must be connected to you through the Blight. The Inquisitor is gone. He kidnapped her.”

Neve blanched. To have that horrid creature violating her body like that made her sick. Was that how Lucanis felt when Spite was forced into him? She patted Bellara’s hand to let her know she was okay. Sensing her distress, Lucanis came up beside her and held her hand.

“Damnit!” Rook cursed. He turned to the others, all staring at him with expectant eyes. “He must have taken her to the Archon’s palace.”

“Why would he take the Inquisitor?” Davrin asked. “If anything, I thought he’d kidnap you, Rook.”

Dorian paled as realization dawned on him. “He overheard us…”

“What do you mean?” Rook asked.

“Ellana and I … we were discussing her past relationship with Solas. Elgar’nan must have heard through Neve. He’s going to use her against Solas.”

“Well, shit,” Hawke muttered. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It shouldn’t mean anything,” Rook said. “I’m sure he thinks it’ll stop Solas from killing his archdemon, but we all know it won’t.”

“Do we?” Morrigan asked.

“Don’t tell me you believe she’s more important than his end goal.”

“It is not a matter of whether or not I believe in his love for her. Solas was a spirit. He is guided by his emotions and he has not seen the Inquisitor in many years. It will, at the very least, distract him. All Elgar’nan needs is an opening, for Solas to let his guard down and he can end the Dread Wolf. Solas is not bound to an archdemon. He is mortal. It only takes one well-placed strike.”

Rook began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, hands on his hips, brow furrowed. “Then we need to get up to the palace as soon as possible. We need that archdemon dead and it’s too fucking big for us to kill it alone.”

“We’ve got other problems,” said Strife as he jogged up to the distraught group with Isabela and the Viper in tow. “Elgar’nan’s army is amassing just outside. Our forces can hold them off while you climb up.”

So they would have to face Elgar’nan with less forces than they planned. That did not bode well, especially if Solas was somehow taken out.

“It’s fine,” Rook said. “The Veilguard can handle Elgar’nan. Just make sure those forces stay here on the ground.”

“We will,” the Warden-Commander promised.

Rook turned to his team. “Let’s do this.”

[pippalovestunabrick]

Juno: I'm coming with you.

Nureyev: ...Fine. But take that blaster with you, at the very least.

[karmesean]

we’re trying

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Is it crazy that throughout all these seasons, all these years, I’ve never really thought about how joyful Eddie and Buck getting together romantically could be? We’ve seen them go through so much trauma, so many insecurities, and mental health struggles, that it’s colored the way I pictured them falling together officially. And not like them starting as a couple would be a negative part of their arcs, or traumatic, not anything like that. Just, the show’s direction is pointing at them going canon as being a purely happy event. Eddie is discovering who he is, more about what he desires to be happy with himself and his life. Buck was just told by the narrative that he is primed for his “last” love interest, and he now has the freedom to go out and discover more about his bisexuality without a partner to be loyal to. They’re both on these journeys that, according to the show, are going to lead them to being the most joyful we’ve ever seen them. And the rest of the narrative is telling us that their joy is going to stem from finding a home in their romantic relationship. There’s never a perfect way for a ship to get together when they’ve been a slowburn for years, but this is the gentlest, most loving, happiest way the show could be going about it. Yes, Buck and Eddie make each other happy. Yes, they are each other’s Person, and are always there for each other. Yes, they’ve been through so many ups and downs, but now they’re going to be together, and it’s good. I’m sure there will be more traumas in their future, but where they left off on 8x06, they are perfectly positioned to find joy in each other, and I think that is beautiful.