#because i really put my heart and soul into this one

[wordsinhaled]

People call Charles Edwin’s guard dog and Edwin thinks it’s going to offend him, getting more up in arms about it than Charles ever does. But it doesn’t seem to bother Charles at all. And Edwin doesn’t understand, not at first, not until Charles tells him, “So what if they think I’ll bite if they lay a finger on you? Not exactly wrong, are they?”

Suddenly, it makes sense. Why Charles takes the comments in stride. Why he seems to take pride in the suggestion.

Charles feels like Edwin should have someone who is willing to do all that for him, go that far for him—and of course that someone’ll be Charles himself. Edwin reflects that he’d never had that sort of fervent devotion from anyone, certainly not when he was alive, and no one has come close since but Charles. He reflects on how good it feels to be fundamentally seen, valued in such a way.

Still, Edwin worries—does Charles know that Edwin is just as dedicated to keeping him safe, his heart and his spectral body and his soul? That Charles is the most precious gift Edwin never dreamt to be given, and—

Does Charles know that, every day? That he’s more than his teeth? That he’s more than everything Edwin could want? That he’s sweetness and light?

It’s Charles’ loving touch that Edwin yearns for and craves, when he’s laughing harder than he ever has, in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is asleep and it’s just him and Charles in the warmly-lit office, tipping against each other on the tiny sofa that never feels cramped when it’s keeping the two of them near. The actual joke goes forgotten in the self-replenishing haze of their giggles, their shoulders knocking together, Charles’ ankle hooked around Edwin’s.

Edwin’s hand lands on Charles’ jaw, barely-there fingertips turning Charles’ head, easy, so easy, to look at him. To catch Charles’ gaze, deep and shining and—they’re so close to each other, a bit heady with leftover mirth, and Edwin will never forget that it’s Charles who moves first to press his smiling lips to Edwin’s, simple as ever, like it’s the next line in their conversation.

It knocks the breath straight out of Edwin: the breath he hasn’t needed in three-odd decades. But it’s all right because Charles’ mouth is opening against his, so right and inviting, and Charles is gasping too like he’s in the same dizzy predicament, and Edwin never wants it to end.

“Charles,” he says, “Charles, my darling, are you…?”

Charles’ eyes are dark as ink when he pulls back, only far enough to nudge his nose against Edwin’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, smile flashing bright like a slice of the moon. He closes his eyes, a flutter of lashes Edwin can feel against his own cheekbone, followed by the soft drag of a kiss. Then another. “Should’ve seen it, really,” Charles goes on, in between still more kisses, words said into Edwin’s skin. “‘Cause you’re it for me, Edwin, aren’t you, love? I just didn’t see. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you first—”

“Never mind,” Edwin says, “tell me now,” and then they’re kissing once more. The testing scrape of Charles’ teeth over Edwin’s lower lip, the nibble on his upper, is tentative, too tentative, and Edwin ought to have known, he ought to have suspected… but still he doesn’t, doesn’t expect the keening, tremulous moan that tumbles out of him at the promise of it all.

Charles chuckles, the sound settling in Edwin’s belly, making a home in his chest. “You like that?” he asks. Awed. Still hesitant. The laughter from earlier still layered in Charles’ voice, along with a new sort of hoarseness, a new sort of rasp Edwin could listen to forever. “Don’t wanna put you off, do I, love…”

“I will hardly be put off, Charles. In fact, I—” Edwin swallows, convulsive and wanting, sees Charles’ focus drop to his throat, find the soft underside of his jaw as he tips his chin up. “I would not have you hold back with me. Set your hands where you wish. Your mouth—where you wish. Your…” It is his turn to close his eyes.

“My teeth,” Charles finishes for him softly. “Wherever I…?”

“Yes,” Edwin says. “Yes.”

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 for the first time

― luigi thinks of you in his cell. that's it that's the fic.

notes :: thank you for all the support to show my appreciation i would like to throw a rusty screwdriver into your hearts i love u guys!!

The thing they don't tell you about prison is that it's really cold.

No, seriously. It's really fucking cold, even here in NYC where it's already cold to begin with - it's like you're in the back of a deep freezer in a shitty jumpsuit, because you kind of are. It's cold enough that I have to curl up into a ball on my "bed", knees to my chest in order to try and stay warm.

And because I have nothing to do, I find myself staring at the white, emotionless wall, and doing that sort of thing is kind of a surefire way to get your mind to wander. One of the tried and true methods, if you will.

It's lonely here. Sure, the inmates like me, they're nice, but I mean... I'm not really in the mood to socialize with anyone. This whole ordeal has sucked the energy out of me. I've been being thrown around the country for days, ever since they found me.

I don't even want to think about what's happening outside of this place, either. I'm sure people have lots of thoughts and things to say about what I did.

I wonder if she saw it.

The news, I mean. Of course she saw it, who didn't? I bet her and all my old classmates and friends are probably talking about it, about me, what I'd done - right now. Trying to pick apart my motive, maybe grieving about the life I'd thrown away. Guess I had a lot ahead of me.

Can't help but wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if she's disappointed in me. Or maybe proud. Why am I thinking so much about what she thinks of me? It was one fling, from ages ago, I can't even remember when... at one of countless parties, and yet I still see how she looked underneath me so clearly.

It wasn't really just a fling. I talked to her about it - about how the system was falling apart (if it was ever together to begin with) and I felt the need to put all this privilege I'd been granted to good use. How I felt like I had to do something. She told me about herself, too, how she'd been fucked over time and time again and how she knew countless others who felt the same way.

Actually, yeah, we spent a lot of time together, thinking back on it. She'd come over on those cold winter nights I remember so fondly and we'd keep warm together, whatever way we could find. She was kind of... below me, I guess. Lower class. Not that I cared that much, though. Didn't make her any less of a lover.

And then I went radio silent. Then I figured out exactly what that thing I had to do was, and I put all my effort towards it. I didn't have time for love anymore. I had to take the chance I'd been given and fix things.

So I started leaving her on seen, stopped answering my door, even when she'd yell that she knew I was there, stopped showing up at the places I'd loved before, I stopped everything. Dropped off the map and left nothing but a ghost in my place.

She probably hates me.

I'd like to think that maybe this brings her solace... that maybe the idea that "it wasn't because you did something wrong" made her feel better, but I doubt it does.

When I get out of here, if I even do, she'll probably have forgotten all about me, because everybody forgets. I'll be old news by the time that day comes, and everything we did, everything we wanted to do - would just be a hazy memory.

I still remember seeing her for the first time. I remember the way her eyes pierced through my soul, and I remember how it made me feel inside.

I wonder if she remembers that too.

[andypantsx3]

ANDIE POOKIE! I have a question that's been occupying my brain but I can't think of a solid answer to!

If the reader and Shouto were to ever have a serious argument about something what would it be :0

I really can't think of a scenario cuz Shouto is usually so kind, understanding, empathetic and chill >:(

Ooooh good question and I think I may have an answer!! I think probably the most feasible things are 1) Reader putting themselves in danger, or 2) misalignment on some aspect of their relationship.

A couple months ago when I was on my shit about Shouto being a Grade-A, All Natural, Grass-Fed, FDA-Certified Starer™, someone sent me an ask about Shouto staring at Reader across a party after an argument. I have most of a corresponding drabble written, but it took me forever to think of a reason why they might have a fight!! I eventually went the relationship misalignment route, with Shouto and Reader fighting about money.

Specifically, Reader does not want to merge finances due to personal insecurity. Shouto knows he belongs to Reader heart and soul and there is no risk of him leaving the relationship ever. He sees it as the most natural thing in the world that their next step would be to be one in all things, finances included, so Reader's hesitance is sort of an affront, like, do they not see this relationship the way he does?? so he spends the evening sort of brooding and watching our Reader with a laser focus. But Reader has a Past™ and their hesitance is less about their commitment to the relationship and more about overcoming their own need to protect themselves and mitigate risks; they just need to make that final jump.

I like this kind of disagreement because the heart of it is about how much two people love one another and can come to trust one another, rather than it truly being about personal differences. And I think it fits Shouto pretty well, because it's still in-line with how thoughtful and caring and bone deep good he is!!

Anywayyyy those are my initial thoughts lol. I hope this is somewhat helpful!!

[lotsofsq]

THANK YOU SO MUCH I COULD CRY i was grinning wider with every word oh my gosh thank you so much i’m so so happy to hear about you noticing, and finding joy in the little things i add!!

id love to tell you about my process! i love rambling about why i do certain stuff because sometimes i don’t even realize until after it’s down! often i have a feeling of a picture in my head and i just need to think of how to capture it

overall i try to do what feeeels right, but i often focus the most on differentiating eyes, i like for my designs to have distinct eyes and i was really able to do that with TMBS.

also with the colors they are a perfect set like the minimum pack of crayons

for reynie: i really wanted him to look gentle but not completely round, he’s very dependable so that leans more toward square shapes. reynie has always had a very specific look in my head because for years i pictured him looking like one of my childhood friends. his eyes both, look more asian, and lower eyelids often make a character appear more calm. the clovers are a little indicator i put often to show like?? good will almost? idk how to describe it but like when you can see the genuineness of someone.

for sticky: he’s such a nervous ball of energy and so sweet, he has this really round visual energy his eyes really mirror the shape of his glasses, big open eyes can be nervous or observant, in this case both! sticky has always been that deep blue color in my head, deep blue is a great indicator of vastness; the ocean, the night sky. fits well. yes little nervous sweats.

for constance: the epitome of angry squishy little kid, the almost white hair actually makes her look younger, since most people’s hair darkens as they age. i love her little tiny eyes, it makes her look like a stuffed animal. and i feel like the hair clip shows there are people who care enough to put it there. the little jagged lines always make me think of glaring and intensity

for kate: out of all the kids her eyes are the most realistic, she has a true eyelid and a natural shape to her eyes. i’m not entirely sure why i like to do that but i might be because i find her very wise, old soul kind of deal. i tried to make her look slightly older than the boys and i just adore her sunny disposition and humor, it’s so important for her personality. of course hee symbol is little rays of light coming off of her.

all these answers are kinda all why i did things instead of how, if you want that for anything i’d love to tell you if i can but i’m not sure that will be very interesting its a lot of trying until it feels right.

-

once again thank you so so much for this i hope you enjoy my response! it really touches my heart to hear people try to pick apart my art it makes me so happy

THE MYSTERIOUS BENEDICT SOCIETY!!!!!!

i’ll be posting most of my stuff chronologically so enjoy my journey

[ID copies from alt text: four headshots of the four society members: reynie is smiling calmly, his hair is sweeping left over his forehead. he is wearing a green sweater vest with a line of little sprouts on it over a button down. sticky has a nervous expression, he is fully bald. he is wearing a blue sweater over a button down. constance looks peeved and has wispy blonde hair with red hair clips. she is wearing a red coat over a yellow shirt. kate is excited and winking, her gold blonde hair is in a high ponytail. she is in a red and white striped t-shirt. all 4 have emphasized lines around them in their respective colors: reynie has green flowers, sticky has blue sweat beads, constance has red jagged lines, and kate has yellow radial lines around her. ]

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

a reminder to all translators: YOU ARE AN ARTIST!

Translation work *is* art, and it's truly incredible what you do and you touch so many more lives than you realize- and often, those who's lives you touch with your translation work never realize just how much thanks they owe you, but from the bottom of my heart I want you all to know how grateful I am for all people in fandom and outside of it who translate things, those who do it professionally, those who do it for fun, what you do cannot be replaced by a machine, yes maybe it can give a literal translation but it cant really offer any of the human experience or creative choices that actual translators put into things! TO ALL MY BELOVED ANIME AND MANGA LOVING FANS ESPECIALLY i want to remind you to show some love to translators who make it possible for us to enjoy our favorite shows, as well as a special thanks to those who make fan translations of anime openings or things that never recieved an english translation! Pokemon fans you guys should get this especially, remember those guide books that answered so many questions we've had in the west that only got translated thanks to fan efforts and translators who were paid to translate some of the earliest guide books? Naruto fans! If you dont know, but you might, theres also a naruto radio show that theres translations for online that we ONLY have acess to because of fans efforts!

Don't get me started on all the people who make translations and EVEN SING THEM! remember how amazing some of those anime song translations and make them *actually singable?* Don't forget that doing that is a very creative act too! and people who translate fan comics!!!! or fanfictions!!!! please! appreciate them! It takes so much skill to translate the experiences of one culture into another, to make it understandable and meaningful across cultural and language barriers and to make it sound good on top of it all.

Tonight I cried reading an old translation of harmonia, one of my favorite naruto endings, it's 15 years old now, and i used to listen to it and sing it (with the help of that translation) with one of my little sisters, and its one of the only happy memories I have from that time in my childhood.

and so many other magnificent translators filled my childhood with wonder and joy, giving me the meanings of songs that changed my view of the world and helped me cope with hardship, and grow into a person i'm very proud of being.

Thank you, you'll never know just how many lives and hearts you touch. You are loved, you are appreciated, and anyone who thinks your art form can be replaced by a machine doesn't understand language well enough or culture well enough to know just how difficult it really is to capture the essence of someone elses art and I think in many ways, translation is a field where that which we call the soul of an art piece is most tangible, and can be most clearly seen, as it takes human experience and conscious choices based on an actual understanding of the real world and life itself to express that which is human in art. thank you, so so much for all you do.

i could go on for hours, but this is all to say, thank you

and if you THINK you can be replaced by machine translation please just go through an ensemble stars fan comic through google translate its utterly incomprehensible-

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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... 𝐢'𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✩ : as the 2024 season comes to an end, so does the time you have left to finally confess your feelings to carlos

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : carlos sainz

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : pure A N G S T

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,7k

✍︎ : i'm SO SORRY it took me this long to write, but i was literally swamped with school work and i had no time to do anything. anyway, i hope you like it because i put my soul and tears into it (i'll probably write some cute christmas themed one-shots to recover from this, don't worry 🙃).

enjoy 🩷❤️

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Wrong.

If you had to use any word to describe the situation you found yourself in, it would’ve been wrong.

Everything felt out of place: the laughs, the chattering, even the clinking of champagne glasses. It was all too loud, almost as if everyone was trying to fill the void that loomed in the air.

Though, now that you thought about it, ‘fake’ actually fit the scene better. To your ears, the jokes that rang across the motorhome were nothing but a lame attempt to lighten up the mood, every word sounding empty and meaningless. Each one of the persons crowding the room were just actors playing their part in a show they’d been rehearsing for months, and between them stood the main character, the best liar of them all.

Carlos had been smiling the entire night, going along with the setup for some reason that your brain really couldn’t seem to grasp. What was the point of celebrating his departure, even worse when the people he was hugging with such warmth were the same ones who’d dropped him from the team to replace him?

As for you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him: every time you did, you caught the flicker of hurt hiding behind the forced grin he'd carefully plastered on his face, the sight making you feel sick to your stomach.

To be honest, you didn’t try to approach him at all, the mere thought of confronting him keeping you away. What was the point, anyway? He was leaving Ferrari, and nothing you might say or do could ever change that.

You hated it. You hated that you had to stand there and watch him leave, you hated the team for making him, you hated yourself and how powerless you felt, you hated Carlos… especially the way you didn’t hate him at all.

It wasn’t something you’d planned: it just happened. Somewhere between the race debriefs, the jokes, and even the fights, you’d inevitably fell for him. What a shame you were only realizing it now.

You avoided him all night, slipping into the shadows every time he came too close or tried to approach you, ignoring the pang of guilt that hit you when you saw the half-smile he flashed falter. His eyes were questioning, almost pleading, burning holes right through you as you turned your back to him once again. You told yourself that was the only way you could survive the “party”… or so you thought.

You knew it was coming, and yet when the lights dimmed and your teammates’ voices lowered to whispers your heart dropped to your stomach, all the noise from before replaced by a piercing ringing in your ears.

The video.

The wide screen suddenly lit up, its brightness almost blinding in the dark room, the clips playing out on it in quick flashes: Carlos’ first podiums, his maiden victory with Ferrari, the celebrations with the team and the Tifosi, the challenges with Charles… each one of them was a dagger to the chest which twisted in a wound that had been bleeding for months now.

The motorhome had fallen silent, the stillness interrupted from time to time by a choked laugh or a quiet sniffle that echoed like gunshots. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look at the taped moments without your sight getting blurry, forcing yourself not to let it wander over the faces that surrounded you—until you eventually did, and that was the worst mistake of your life.

Carlos’ eyes were glistening under the violent screen lighting, puffy and bloodshot from the tears he’d clearly already shed, which stained his cheeks and slightly parted mouth.

The walls started closing in on you, your breath coming out in shallow gasps as you felt a lump tightening your throat, panic rising in your chest. You couldn’t see him like that.

You should’ve stayed. For him. You should’ve been close and hugged him, like everyone else was doing now that the video had ended, but you couldn’t.

So you ran like a coward.

You stumbled back, bumping into people that you didn’t really see, mumbling weak “Sorry” in their direction, until a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you going?” He put it as a question, but the concern in his tone made it sound more like a warning, almost as if he already knew the answer.

“Let me go. Please,” you breathed out, the words painfully scratching your throat as you let them out. He didn’t budge. “Charles–”

“No, listen to me,” he said firmly, his hold tightening slightly more to prevent you from getting away. “He needs us. All of us.” He searched your eyes with his, a quiet request in them: we have to be strong for him.

“He doesn’t need me. Not like this,” you murmured, shame washing over you as you shrugged his hand off and finally reached the door, rushing outside like your life depended on it.

It was pouring, but you couldn’t care less; in fact, the cool raindrops were soothing against your burning skin, their sound drowning out the thoughts that had been running through your mind relentlessly all night.

You didn’t hear his steps, either.

“Why are you out here?” Carlos’ voice cut through the storm like a knife, and you froze. He’d followed you.

You didn’t turn around. Instead, you swallowed back the tears you hadn’t even noticed had started streaming down your face, mixed with the rain that soaked through your clothes. “Go back inside. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“I don’t care,” he shot back harshly, maybe more than he intended to, because he quickly added: “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the genuine confusion in his tone making it harder to keep yours steady. “I just needed some air.”

“So what, you just left without saying anything?” He stepped closer, frustration bleeding through his words.

“It’s your party, Carlos, not mine. And it’s not that deep.”

“Not that–do you hear yourself? This “party” is my last one here at Ferrari; we’re supposed to say goodbye.” His voice cracked, followed shortly after by the walls you were struggling to keep up.

“I’m sure there are plenty of people in there who are dying to say–”

“Dios mío, do you even care that I’m leaving?” he spit out, the venom in his words hitting you like a slap right in the face. “Of course I care–” “Then look at me! Please, at least look at me.” He was so close now that you could feel his shaky breaths ruffling your hair, his warmth inches away from you, so familiar and yet so distant.

Slowly, you turned around, your vision blurry as you took in the sight of him: he was completely drenched in rain, the fireproof he was still wearing from the race clinging to his body, his usually perfect hair sticking to his forehead, and he looked so effortlessly handsome it made your heart ache.

“And now?” You let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. “What do you expect me to say? That I’m happy for you? Because if that’s it, I’m sorry but I’m not. I don’t care if I sound selfish, and if that makes me a horrible teammate then be it, but at least I’m not a fake friend like half of the people in there. So yes, Carlos, I care, I care so much that I couldn’t stay inside and watch you act like you didn’t.” The words had spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them, leaving you breathless once you came to a halt.

Carlos blinked a few times, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Then, what you’d actually said clicked in his mind.

“I don’t care? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me all night–”

“Carlos, stop,” you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes once again at his sharp tone.

“No,” he said, firmly. “Not until you tell me what’s really going on.”

“It’s not that simple, okay?” Your voice cracked as it raised, trying to outshout both the storm that surrounded you and the one raging inside your chest.

“Then make it simple!” He yelled too, but his words sounded like a cry for help. That made you finally snap.

“I love you, Carlos! Is that simple enough for you? Because for me it’s not. It hurts so fucking much knowing that I can’t do anything anymore, that I’m too late, and it’s… easier this way. Distancing myself, I mean. I prefer walking away from you on my own than having you taken away from me.”

Heavy silence stretched between the two of you after your voice trailed off, your words still lingering in the damp air as you just stared at each other for what felt like ages.

“Say something, please.” You were the one begging now, his numbness worse than any sentence you’d heard tonight. “Shout, scream, just–”

He didn’t let you finish, his lips finding yours in a desperate, urgent kiss that tasted like tears and regrets. You poured every ounce of you into it, your hands roaming over each other and pulling you impossibly closer, almost as if you wanted to melt together and become a whole, so that nothing could ever separate you anymore.

When you parted, he pressed his mouth to your forehead, his hands cradling your face like you were the most delicate and precious porcelain doll in the world and he was afraid he might break you; too bad he already had.

“I love you,” he then whispered against your wet skin, before letting his lips fall to your right cheek. “And I’ll miss you…” he pressed a kiss on it, then moved to the other. “… so much,” he left a third one, capturing the single tear that had escaped your eye.

“I’ll miss you, too,” you breathed out, words getting lost in the howling wind.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms as the rain soaked you both, washing away the tears that silently strolled down your face, and with them the promise of a future that ended before it even started.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[rubylovessharks]

Hii!! I saw your post asking for ideas of what to write for Idia’s birthday and I just had to say something! (Feel free to ignore this ofc)

The whole crush trope is one of my obsessions along with Idia so I would love to see how you write Idia realizing that he has a crush on reader who is yuu. Like reader has also their otaku side (way more chill that Idia ofc) and they are patient with him so they got to form a pretty frienship with him and also helped him a lot after his overblot

You can omit this part if you want but im thinking of a really kind and sweet reader who besides Idia has befriended most of the twst cast, but they can act pretty shy if the situation is too overwhelming(?

Idk if that makes sense and sorry for the request and thank you for your time :)

of course i'll take on your request! i really like it too :3 so i'll try my best to write it, and write it well!!

Idia Shroud x Yuu(who is the reader)

no warnings! it's all gonna be fluff :333 but like it has hints of angst but ya know- that's idia for ya :/

It's been quite a long time since you and Idia have become friends, you still remember how you first got to know each other. Idia's brother, Ortho, has found out about your shared interest for gaming and anime and thought that you'd make a great first irl friend for Idia. And the very first moment you got introduced to him you knew that you two really are similar, and it wasn't just Ortho's exaggerated view point.

You both were shy and afraid of social interactions, you both enjoy video games and let's not forget that whenever you got the chance you'd talk Ace's and Deuce's ears off about the various animes you've watched. So you two really do have a lot in common. It's just that Idia seems to distant himself from others, never wanting to leave his room and only going out if he really needed to. And how could you call yourself his good friend if you don't try to make an effort to make his sad life a little better?

And that effort has worked too well. Because now everytime you are even mentioned Idia's heart feels heavy. If before he was just shy yet kind of willing to let you into his life now he feels as if something is totally wrong! Everytime you two hang out he feels as if there's a tugging feeling inside his chest, telling him to get closer and hug you.

The tips of his hair turn a light pink as his face reddens, he chokes a for a moment on nothing as he stares at your form. You were playing games at the moment and Idia couldn't help but think that you are the most beautiful thing in the world. Yet like always Idia tends to go towards the negative outlook on life instead of a positive one, and that leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembers that day, or rather specifically that fight.

"Why do you still come hang out with me?" you hear him ask with that soft voice of his. What a stupid question you think to yourself, doesn't he know that you come here to have fun? "What do you mean?" "do you just not remember a week ago?" you put down the controller you held and turned to fully look at him "ya know... When I went berserk and tried to unleash a bunch of monsters out to the world????" "you mean when you overbloted? Yeah I remember. It doesn't change the way I feel about you." Somehow these words pulled harder at his heart, as if you were pulling his very soul closer and closer towards you.

"Ever since I met you you were always showing signs of mental problems, and I still decided to become friends with you." now that Idia thinks about it, he did act like he had no real purpose. And now there's a nagging part in his brain that thinks otherwise.. why did feelings have to be so confusing and weird!? Is what he thinks.

"Well I don't get feelings either...." you say as if you read his mind, "but I'd like to ask, since you brought up the subject," "brought up the subject?" Idia whispers "what do you feel?" Now Idia is completely pink. From his hair to his face, if he could get redder he would! "Did I say that outloud!?" he panics. "Did you not mean to? Shouldn't friends tell eachother their problems and try to help eachother out?" Something about you saying that he's ''just a friend'' makes his heart sink. As if he's falling down after his overblot again, down and down until he hits rock bottom.

"Idia please...." you reach out for him, like you're trying to pull him up, to stop him from falling. "tell me what's wrong." Maybe he should explain the way he feels. Maybe he should try to understand that weird tugging feeling he has. Maybe it's something he just never felt before, and you are the cause of it, the reason he's been feeling more happy than what he's past self has felt on a regular basis.

There's no way it is romantic love...Right?

And he reaches out, holding your hand in his, letting you help him from the endless falling. Getting him out of that pit of dark thoughts. "I love you." You tell him, and he never hit rock bottom once you said that.

All of the sudden he's pink again, and as these words loop through his brain he gets it. That tugging, pulling feeling on his chest, his heart, was his love for you. His yearning to be with you. The want to make you happy as he keeps you by his side to maintain his happiness too.

But he's not deserving..

Is what his old self would've said. But now he knows that if he wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with him, saying no will just harm you. Saying no will just push you away and make you feel as if doesn't want that as well. So he does something he would've never thought he'll do in his life.

"I-I love you too!"

He says shakily as he leans forward to peck your lips, and you too, lean into it making his birthday a happy memory in his eyes again.

[elpida]

it was probably and very ironically, the most at peace she'd looked for a while, she didn't stir, she just continued to breath softly and at ease until she was blinking. everything was quiet, for the most she didn't remember what'd happened, she couldn't really put it together, the moments she'd reached out for him, or when she passed out, but she knew the sound of the children and their peaceful heavy breaths of sleep. turning her head, she saw asher, the way his head was in his hands.

"i owe you answers..." she spoke softly, a whisper into what was now delicate hours of the night. she felt the coolness on her forehead, saw the damp cloth in his hand and wandered just how long he'd sat there, making sure she wasn't burning up or suffering. she wondered but daren't ask, had the children cared? she knew that in her heart it was best for them to not see her as mommy but... without a doubt when they saw her on the ground, they'd fretted for their mom. maybe not by birth, but she was meant to be theirs. they were meant to be each others. ever so gentle in her movements she shuffled, enough that there was a space beside her and pulled at the blankets bundled around her. "lay down, you'll get cold sat there all night." even then, when she must have felt so fragile, she cared about him. god, she cared about him so much that she'd turned to him in those moments of feeling so vulnerable. the children lay sound asleep, she'd always said that they slept as if nothing was wrong in the world, heavy and undisturbed.

"i was sick.. before everything went wrong with the world." this was the hard part, the part she'd not told a single soul, because she felt so.. incapable. what good was she if she couldn't even keep up now? "and i suppose and i'm sick again, my medication ran out a while ago... that's why i started keeping more to the house and when i went out, i was hoping i'd find something that'd make do, or at least help in some way until i figured a way to tell you." the more she tried to find the words, the more she felt tears well up in her eyes, a clog in her throat when she first tried to open her mouth to say it. "i have a heart murmur.. i have for a long time it was just.. to a point where they were going to do something about it. they never got the chance to operate and i only had enough medication to last me a couple of weeks. i was really sparing with it, i'd have kept up better had i had more and it's not always bad, not all the time, some days are just worse but.." eden couldn't look at him for this growing fear he'd turn away from her, that he'd be angry at her, that he might see her as useless. "if i'd been the odd one out, the weakest of the group, if i'd been everyone's burden-" she closed her eyes, lip quivering. "i didn't want to be... your burden. i didn't then and i don't know so if you.. if... you want to go, i'd understand. if it's a matter of knowing your chances are better without me slowing you down... i'd get it."

he'd wanted to get some sort of answer that night, but the opportunity had never presented itself. it had quickly become clear that this stop was only temporary - that the need to move on would fall far sooner than he would have liked. the house was largely picked clean of any essentials, leaving the four of them cramming into one room that evening rather than spreading out more comfortably, and eden was asleep just as quickly as the children ( and that was not something he'd disturb ). it hadn't stopped him from eyeing her skeptically the following morning - from considering staying at least another day before ultimately deciding they needed to push forward. he'd led them slower that day - his steps more cautious, his frame stiff and alert ( on the lookout for others and eden ).

when they'd stopped that second night, asher had once again left the little trio at the front door as he'd moved to clear the rest of the house and ensure the windows were properly covered before ushering them further into the space. distracted by the excitement of the two children when they'd learned there was a playroom, asher didn't hear the first call of his name. it was only his need to ensure the woman was alright that caused him to look back. his brow furrowed when he took her in - skin far more pale than usual - and when she seemed to sway forward, he was already moving. a curse escaped him - just managing to snag onto her frame but not preventing them from tumbling down to the floor. the next few moments were chaos - the kids were screaming, asher was groaning in pain from ramming his side into the corner of a table while scrambling to push eden's limp form away from him - hand taping at her face to try to wake her up before pressing against her throat. the uneven thump-thump-thump that met his touch was the only thing to get him to calm.

picking her up and bringing her up into one of the bedrooms, he'd slouched against the side and cradled the two children - murmuring soft reassurances until they'd grown drowsy. dragging a second mattress into the space and convincing them onto it rather than curled against eden's side proved more difficult than he'd anticipated, but by the time they'd truly settled, asher was exhausted and fucking terrified. seated beside the bed with a damp washcloth, the man was hunched over himself - head cradled within his hands, mentally berating himself for not just questioning her the night before as he'd originally intended.

[alatariel-gildaen]

She was dressed in a white gown with an overdress of pale blue net and diamonds. It glittered like frost and snow, and was far prettier than any gown she had possessed when she lived in England. In her hair were sprays of some tiny, star-like blossoms and there was a black velvet ribbon tied around her throat.

"Arabella..."

Jonathan and Arabella Strange, Polychromos and Luminance on Pastelmat

[borgialucrezia]

"There are moments where [Juan] manipulates other people in a similar the way they’ve been manipulating him. The scene between Jeremy and myself with the dagger is a last ditch frantic attempt at trying to win [Rodrigo] over." Do you think Juan was genuine in the knife scene? Do you think he would have killed himself? "Yeah I think so. He always does what is true inside him...It wasn’t simply about the eventual confrontation, but all about the richness of this twisted family make-up."

[ghosts-of-love]

:/

[itsdefinitely]

💀😡

starting off strong!

💀 least favorite lord in black and why 😡 least favorite character from npmd and why

based off design... pokey. he is so swagless please i need to give him cool pants please please why doesn't he have shiny pants and a feather boa he deserves one give him heels you cowards

as for npmd (characters who have a speaking role): brenda. hearing her talk the first time made my soul float out of my body. i didn't recognize it as bryce; i thought they genuinely got a teenager to be brenda. it just took me off guard how real she was. compared to everyone else matching their stereotype, brenda acts like. a regular teenager

[valewritessss]

Recently I’ve developed more of a “this is something I usually overthink about but right now we’re going to do it anyway because I refuse to live my life in fear” mentality and I’m kind of loving it

[robinsnest2111]

still feeling bad even after food and a couple hours of sleep. how mean

[yuridovewing]

Feel like one of the best ways you can convince someone that no, villains with compelling motives that have sad backstories are not terrible writing compared to straight up born evil villains who just want to kill everyone and be done with it, is to tell them that Warrior Cats writes born evil villains constantly while literally preaching “That’s how evil works, you can’t CHANGE, you’re either touched by demons at birth or you aren’t!” and it blows chunks

[lesbiansanemi]

It’s all fun and games being a pretty popular writer for a m/m ship until you want to write something f/f and know it will flop so hard compared to all your other things