#but we’re having fun with it

[silas-png]

Shadow of the Blessed

Hi, guys. So I wrote this little story for fun because I wanted to start writing the stuff for my ocs. So here's a little story about a gay bird and an even gayer plant lord coupled with small angst and very bad writing. im very sorry its kinda bad lol

also this is originally an English project so that’s cool shout out to my English teacher

tags: slight angst, small gore at some points, really bad writing, kinda rushed

word count: 4534

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It was the first time Peter had ever seen something so terrifying. He had woken up from his sleep in the middle of the night to see himself in his room. At least, it looked like him, but everything was so much darker. It was just a silhouette, but Peter could tell something was wrong. Darkness spread from the figure like an abhorrent bacteria, sticking to everything as if it were glue, and causing so much fear in Peter that he could swear he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stick upwards. Yet, as quickly as it came, the figure vanished, leaving Peter with lingering paralysis. He simply stared at where the figure was for what felt like hours.

The next morning, Peter waited until the light was sifting through his curtains to get up. When he walked past the spot that the figure was in the previous night, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He walked out of his room with a scowl as he saw his younger brother. He disliked his brother; he was too adept at everything for Peter’s taste. It made him jealous, furious, and contemptuous. He passed the rest of his family silently as he quickly grabbed breakfast while going outside to eat. When he was outside on the house’s porch, he ate. The air was cold as a chilling knife against his skin, but it reminded him that he was safe.

Peter looked to the forest below the mountain. From what he could see it looked mostly normal. Mostly. Creeping up behind the largest tree; an old oak that had been rumored to be there for a couple hundred years-- a rumor that Peter didn’t believe-- was a growing shadow. He walked off the porch onto the cold rock, silently thanking himself that he was wearing socks, and slowly walked to the edge of the mountain. He would’ve gotten a closer look-- until a certain voice cut in. 

“What’cha lookin’ at, Petey-Bird?” The voice was mocking and overconfident. Peter sighed in anger and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath. He turned his head with an even bigger scowl to see none other than Anwir, a member of a nearby village on a close mountain; as well as a personal annoyance to Peter. Anwir was known for being a cocky know-it-all who didn’t let anyone else get any glory. Peter hated him with a passion. Anwir was followed by the village elder of his village and Peter's village. Anwir’s village elder only stared off, but the elder that Peter was familiar with spoke gruffly. 

“Darkness approaches,” He said, gently combing through his beard with one hand; the other was holding a cane in front of himself. The other elder nodded curtly, putting her hands behind her back. Peter glanced back at the forest, losing himself to thought. Surely they can’t be serious, right? He thought, a thousand other thoughts running through his mind simultaneously. Anwir chimed in with the same irritating hum; “I can go to check it out!” Peter shot him a glare, now pulled out of his thoughts from the words. 

“That won’t be necessary, Anwir,” The female elder murmured, her voice brisk. “We’ll wait to check it out,” She added, looking at the other elder. He nodded.

“Come with me, Anwir. There is much to talk about,” The female elder murmured, already starting to walk off. Anwir followed, smiling. The remaining elder turned to Peter, who had a very discontent expression and had put a hand on his hip, clearly distrusting of the second elder. 

“You go check it out,” The male elder murmured, trying to keep his voice relatively quiet. His squinting eyes were now looking at the looming shadow. Peter’s discontent expression tightened. 

“Really?” He asked, his voice holding a surprised and sarcastic edge to it. He moved his hand from his hip to hover aimlessly. “You’re serious?” He asked.

“I never trusted Glaudusa,” The elder replied.

“Neither did I.” Peter glanced backward at Glaudusa and Anwir walking to their homeland. The second mountain was around the corner of the growing shelf of clouds. A storm would hit soon. “You know I can’t go, right?” Peter asked.

“You have to. You’re the only one who knows, and the only one I trust, at that,” The elder said, haste filling his voice. Peter’s lips pursed. I’m not the one to do that. He thought. I don’t like this at all. 

“I can’t do that,” Peter said. If I refuse he won’t make me go, right? Peter thought. However, his refusal and denial were cut short by the elders’ reply.

“Unfortunately, Peter, it has to be you,” He says as he steps towards the cliff. His cane makes a clicking sound as it hits the rock below. Peter’s lip curls upwards in discontent as he stares off at the forest. He sighs, then murmurs, “Fine,”

“You cannot tell anyone,” The elder said. Peter nods and says, “Yeah, yeah, I know,” 

The elder pauses, then holds out a small shortsword. “It’s dangerous to trek this journey alone. Take this,”

Peter waits until the afternoon to set out. No one sent him off. He chose to go out without a word. He told his mother he was being sent to collect supplies for the village elder and then left. He got down the mountain quickly by gliding with the wind as his guide. He reached the forest within a few minutes of walking once he got down. He lifted a tree branch over his head after he made it to the dense forest. “This is going to be a long day,” He muttered, stepping over a tree root.

After a couple of hours of trekking through the forest, Peter finally came to the center point. The giant oak was at least ten feet in diameter and twenty feet tall. Peter felt tiny compared to the behemoth of a tree. Heaven almighty… He thought, his jaw dropping a couple of centimeters.

“Your people don’t usually appear this far into my forest,” A voice called out. It was very calm and soothed Peter’s small bud of anxiety. Peter turned around. Behind him stood a very, very tall man. The second thing Peter noticed was his eyes; an alluring shade of pale green. Peter was almost star-struck. He didn’t expect someone to live out here. It was a no-mans land.

“Well, we thought it was, like, deserted,” Peter said, unusually stumbling over words. He coughed and hit himself in the heart to calm himself. The taller man chuckled lightly. It sounded almost melodic.

“Well, it is not,” He said. His eyes lit up. “I almost forgot--” He held his hand out. “-- I’m Pax,” The man said, waiting for Peter to introduce himself.

“I’m, uh, Peter,” He said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He took Pax’s hand and shook it. Pax’s skin was warm and comforting. Peter had to force himself to let go. 

“Okay, this is nice and all, but I seriously need to get back to what I was doing--” 

“Ah, right. Looking for the answer to the darkness spreading through the forest, yes?” Pax cut in.

“How-- How did you know that?” Peter responded, doing a double take. Is this guy psychic? He thought.

“I figured your people would send someone down sometime soon. I can feel the darkness spreading,” Pax replied, shrugging. “You should stay at my place for the night.” Pax gestured to the sky, which was growing darker by the minute. “It gets dangerous here at night now. You don’t know what lurks in the shadows,”

Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the last comment. He felt the same feeling of fear and anxiety from when the figure of himself appeared before him. He shivered, feeling a breath of sharp, cold air on his back. His wings shook slightly, attempting to shake off the cold. Pax noticed, and asked, “You have seen it as well?”

“What?” Peter asked, trying to control his voice. He didn’t know that other people saw them as well. “That shadow thing?” He asked. Pax nodded.

Then Pax started walking towards the tree. Peter suddenly didn’t want to be alone and followed him, jogging to catch up with Pax’s strides. 

“They’ve been following me around for the past couple of days,” Pax explained as he walked. He walked to the large oak and then opened a hidden door. Inside was a small shaft with a ladder in it. Pax climbed the ladder, Peter following suit. When the two reached the top, it was a spacious area that looked like a small cabin. The ‘windows’ were the holes in the branches of the tree, shaped in small circles. It was a lush area, with multiple ‘potted plants’ formed from the wood and branches with leaves. There was a bed, a small bookshelf, and a small counter-- probably a makeshift kitchen. 

“And we’ll be safe… in this tree?” Peter asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. Pax chuckles in response and nods. 

“The door is hidden well. They don’t know that someone lives up here. Think about it; did you know I lived here?” He asks. Peter thinks.

“No,” He says.

* * *

The next morning, Peter woke up tired. Pax was already awake and sat on the floor attempting to map something out. When he noticed Peter being awake, he motioned Peter to join him. “I’m trying to map out where to find the darkness,” He said.

Peter blinked very slowly before saying, “What time is it?”

“It’s ten a.m.,” Pax replied.

Peter only groaned in response. He got out of his makeshift bed-- a blanket and pillow-- and stretched. His wings outstretched completely and he knocked over a book. 

“Sorry,” He murmured, walking over to pick it up. Then he walked over to Pax and stood behind where he was sitting. A map of the woods was on the ground, with a shaded area labeled as the shadow. It had taken up a third of the forest and seemed to only be expanding, as Pax drew where it had seeped to. He suddenly rolled it up and said, “We should get going.” He stood up.

Peter backed up a step and a half. He stared at Pax to see what he was doing. Pax opened a cabinet and took out leather armor. He put it on quickly and then looked at Peter. “You have some, right?” He asked.

“It’s in my bag,” Peter said, gesturing to the pouch on the floor next to his makeshift bed. He walked over, grabbed the bag, opened it, and took out some thin leather armor. He put his own on carefully, then looked at Pax, who was already walking to the trapdoor and opening it. He gestured for Peter to go first. Peter obliged and climbed downwards. He opened the door at the bottom to see Anwir standing outside. Peter cursed to himself quietly and looked up to see Pax coming down the ladder. He whispered, “Hey, there’s another guy here,”

Pax looked down and replied, “We should greet him--” “--No. Not. He is a liar, an eyesore, and an overconfident ogre,” Peter cut in, whisper-yelling furiously. 

Unfortunately for Peter, Anwir heard the string of insults and walked over to the open door. “Petey-bird, you didn’t tell me that you would be here!” He chimed an excited hum in his voice. Peter grimaces and grabs the bridge of his nose; contrastingly, Pax emerges from the door and holds out his hand. “Hello,” He greeted. Anwir responded in kind; shaking Pax’s hand.

“You must be the forest spirit!” He said excitedly. “I’ve heard so much about you-- all good things, don’t worry,” He added.

“Really?” Pax asked. Peter nudged Pax and muttered, “We’ve gotta get going,”

“Oh-- yes, we do. Are you heading to the darkness as well? We could go as a group-- the more the merrier!” Pax spoke softly, kindly. Anwir nodded. 

“Yes, I am!” Anwir responded. Peter facepalmed.

* * *

The three set off soon enough, and within a couple of hours, they reached the base of the darkness. It was attached to everything like a sticky mold, growing by a few centimeters every few minutes. It was black-- as one would expect-- but had a blue hue. Whatever the substance was, it was gross. Anwir touched a leaf that was engulfed in it, and it exploded like a pimple; a pus-like substance splattered all over him. 

Peter’s upper lip curled upwards in pure disgust as he stepped backward. His wings folded inward. Pax tried not to look disgusted but failed; he looked like he just saw a pile of feces on the ground. 

They trekked through the sticky swamp for several minutes before Anwir started to complain. “This stuff is… odd,” He said, trying not to be rude. Peter nodded, and Pax silently agreed. A low hum started to grow in the background. It sounded like a low growl. The hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up. Anxiety crept into his bones as he suddenly felt very, very cold. He looked backward. Standing there was the shadow he saw. He started to back away. It caused Pax and Anwir to turn around. Pax instinctively yelled, “Run!”

The group started to sprint away, Peter the fastest. He would rather be flying, but there wasn’t enough space in the dampened forest. He ran as fast as he could, adrenaline and instincts completely taking over his body. When he reached a clearing in the forest, he calmed down. It was sundown by now, and Pax emerged from the forest a moment later. Anwir… didn’t. Peter couldn’t care less and instead focused on Pax.

“That was… scary,” Pax murmured, looking shaken. Peter walked closer to him, subconsciously begging for the soothing aura Pax had before. But it was gone.

Suddenly, the clearing started to get more sparse. The edge of the clearing started to become more dense, and soon enough both Pax and Peter were locked in. The pus-like darkness crept through the small cracks and crevices, circling the two. Then it started to move faster and faster until it manifested itself into an amalgamation of both Peter and Pax. Peter’s face was massed below Pax’s and was contorted into an expression of horror; his mouth wide open and almost falling off of its’ hinges. A spider crept out of the mouth, also made of the substance. 

Peter backed away in terror, his back suddenly hitting the wall. His breathing started to get quicker as the image ingrained itself into his brain. Pax gulped audibly but drew out a small dagger and clutched it tightly, determined to try and destroy whatever the amalgamation was. The creature's flesh pulsated as if it were alive, pumping something through its visible veins to keep it alive. It took a step closer, goop seeping into the ground with every step. It was disgusting to see, and Pax’s hand trembled. Peter looked around for something, anything to save the two of them. His hand traced the wall until he came across an engraving on the wall. He turned around to look at it. It looked like some sort of puzzle. Peter tried to look at the entire thing to solve it, but he couldn’t make out what exactly it was.

It looked like an incomplete image of something; almost like a jigsaw puzzle, but it was made out of different shapes. Triangles, circles, octogons, polygons, and rectangles confused him. He looked behind himself. The creature was focused on Pax, and Peter didn’t dare make a sound. He did not want to know what that thing would do to him if it saw him.

Peter started moving pieces around to try and complete the image. After a few minutes, it started to look like a mosaic. A few seconds later, the walls started to disperse. The creature slowly sunk into the ground, merging with the existing darkness like melting snow. 

A moment later, Anwir emerged from the forest, smiling giddily.

“What happened here?” He asked, his voice somehow more annoying than before. 

“We got trapped--”

“--Yeah, I’m not sure what happened,” Peter interrupted. He started walking across the clearing to the other side of the forest, a glare in his eyes. 

“That… was a strange encounter,” Pax murmured, his voice low. He stared at Peter in concern. Peter just kept walking, his strides much faster and longer than before. Before long, the group was back in the darkness-engulfed woods. 

After a few minutes of walking, the group found a fork in the path they were on. Anwir started to go to the far right, but Pax and Peter stopped. Peter just glared, but Pax spoke.

“Hey, we should stay as a group,” He called, staring at Anwir. Anwir turned around momentarily before calling, “But the heart of the darkness is this way!” 

Peter and Pax exchanged glances. They both looked skeptical of Anwir.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Peter muttered. “Let’s all split up. The paths have to reconnect somewhere,” He suggested. Pax nodded. Anwir turned around and kept walking away.

“Splitting up it is,” Pax muttered, walking to the middle path, leaving Peter to the far left. 

Peter walked down the path. He didn’t trust the choice to split up, but he needed time to collect his thoughts. It seemed like a logical and perfectly acceptable choice at the time. At first, it was pretty normal for what the past several hours had been. Then it started to get chilly. He shivered, but it only got colder. Before long, his teeth were chattering, his entire body trembling, and fear starting to creep into his bones. He looked around, trying to see if anyone was nearby to help. But no one was there. He was alone.

He started to feel the same as he did when the figure appeared before him. Anxiety crept up his spine, making the hairs on his back stand up. His breathing started to become irregular, and he looked behind himself. Standing there was the figure.

Suddenly, it was directly in front of him. Staring at him. It had a suffocating aura; as if he was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of people. It terrified him. A deep, gravelly voice came from the figure, but its mouth never moved. It only hung open.

“You… Fear comes from you. Delicious fear,” It said, leaning in closer to Peter. Its jaw hung open, loose on its hinges. It looked like it was about to fall off. Peter’s expression contorts into pure terror, and he stumbles backward. His breathing escalates gradually. He tries his best to push the fear down into his stomach but fails. It makes its way to his throat, which is worse than before. 

Peter just stares back at the thing, trying his best to keep his fear down and stop himself from screaming. The creature grabs Peter's shoulders and pulls him in closer. 

“Your fear will make for a dessert worthy of the gods’,” It rumbles, its voice filled with malice. Peter’s eyes widen, and he reaches for the shortsword on his belt. His hand trembles as he tries to get to it without drawing attention to himself. The creature doesn’t notice it; for now.

Peter reaches for the sword and grabs it, pulling it out with all of his might and then slashing through the creature while trying to remove its hands from his shoulders. The creature's top half falls to the ground with a quiet thud. 

Peter stares at it while heaving. He silently calms himself down then says, “What are you made of?” He’s seemingly talking to no one, but the creature responds.

“Your negative emotions, dear friend. I am the manifestation of your negative emotions,” It reverberates, the sound of a low, earth-shaking thrum. It makes Peters's heart shudder. Yet, as quickly as the creature was alive, its life faded. The jaw fell off of the head, and the body started to melt into the ground like viscous oil. Peter gawked at it for a moment before remembering his objective; get to the heart of the shadow and kill it. 

Peter continued down the path, the scene replaying a thousand times over in his head. He kept thinking about that one comment. ‘I am the manifestation of your negative emotions,’. It made Peter almost sick to the stomach. Did he have that many? He never thought about it much; jealousy, sadness, anger, and a million others. He never lingered on them for too long, just pushing them down. He realized that he had to stop doing that. He sighed, the idea of letting out his emotions making him want to vomit. 

Peter looked at a plant in disgust as he let the idea roll around in his head. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want to let his emotions out. But the idea was one that he needed to implement. He was a very emotionally unavailable person, and people often didn’t talk to him because of that fact. He had to do better. For himself; and everyone around him.

As he walked, he took a deep breath. He walked silently for a few minutes before stopping. His hand touched his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Peter stood there in pure shock for a moment before just letting it happen. He continued walking while letting the tears fall freely. Before long he made it to the heart of the darkness. Pax was already there, talking with someone.

The someone in question was an angel. He didn’t have wings on his back but had a small pair on his face that covered his eyes. His halo was a mix of different stars all in a ring on the back of his head; they illuminated his face softly. His hair was white and wavy, reaching his back. Behind the man was a large, pulsating heart. It had strings of viscous pus-like substance attached to it and flowing into the ground. They looked like veins and arteries. The heart fed the substance into the veins. 

“You must understand; I do not mean to infringe upon your land, dear spirit,” The angel said, his voice soothing and calm. Pax looked like he was holding himself back.

“But you are. You are killing the life of this forest and you are hurting the land that we stand on,” Pax said, his voice urgent and attempting to be persuasive. The angel was having nothing of it.

“I need the life force of your forest to survive, Guardian. You do not understand.” The angel took a step closer. He was somehow taller than Pax. He looked down in disgust. 

“You Guardians are all so cocky,” The angel spits, venom in his tone. The angel notices Peter and scowls, growling, “And who are you?” 

He pauses. Then, he says; “You’re the other one. I’ve seen you before.” He thinks for a moment.“We could do great things together, you know,” He says.

Peter steps back. He rejects the hand and looks at the angel skeptically. “Woah, there. Before I go making life-altering blood pacts, how about you introduce yourself?” He says.

“Ah, of course. I am Antiphilli; God’s Shadow,” He said, smiling a little bit. Pax’s eyes widened. 

“You’re the one I was warned about,” He blurted, staring at Antiphilli in shock. “You’ve been cast out; that’s why you feed off of the darkness,” He explains.

Antiphilli’s disgust shifts into contempt. “Well, when you have nothing else to live off of, honey, you get creative,” He says, mockingly using the pet name. He walks closer to Pax. “I was cast out because I saw through the lies of the system, and those above me didn’t like that,” He explains.

Pax leans forward, discontent slipping into his gaze. “True, but you were cast out for a reason. You were a danger to the people; so you were arrested. Then you broke out,” He says.

Peter watches the whole conversation play out, insult after insult strung in both directions. It almost looked scripted; as if someone wrote it with care and love.

Anwir suddenly emerged from the brush. “I’ve found you guys!” He yells, smiling happily. He rushes over to Pax, then… to Antiphilli. He stands beside the angel with pride, and the two have a hushed conversation as Antiphilli backs away from Pax. Pax looks at Peter, tilting his head briefly to motion to leave. Caught up in the conversation, the Antiphilli and Anwir don’t notice Pax and Peter backing out. But before they’ve completely gone, Peter takes his shortsword and throws it like a javelin at the giant heart. It hits it directly in the center, and then he bolts. He and Pax run for what seems like miles, their feet trudging through the muck hastily.

Antiphilli notices their absence and screams. It’s a blood-curdling, earth-shattering sound, and hurts Peter and Pax’s ears. It echoes through the forest. Peter covers his ears, falling to the ground, and Pax’s face contorts in pain with the sound. It screeches in the two’s ears, and when it’s over their ears continue to ring. Peter felt like he had just died and come back; his head throbbed, pain seeping through his skull.

* * *

Peter and Pax returned to the oak tree a day later. Peter was completely drained of energy, barely able to make it up the ladder. When he does make it up, he collapses onto the floor; Pax catches him with gentle arms. “I didn’t realize that you would be this tired,” He murmured, his voice slightly raspy and words slurred. He carried Peter to his bed, setting him down gently before lying down himself to sleep. It takes him some time, but he falls asleep.

The next morning, Peter sets off to return the news of the darkness to his village elder. The elder takes the news well and Peter can finally actually rest. He returns to his home, retreating to his room after grabbing a snack. He stays in his room all day long, completely isolated. He shivers a couple of times because of thought about the figure from days ago. Eventually, he falls asleep at around nine P.M.

His sleep is interrupted by a loud explosion nearby. He jolts awake and looks out of his window, panic rising in his body. His eyes are wide as he stares at a gigantic plume of smoke coming from the nearby village below the mountain. A blinding light follows the explosion, causing Peter to look away. He rushes outside after regaining his vision to find the whole village in a panic. More concerned with the forest, Pax, and the other village, he rushes to the edge of the mountain closest to the cliff above the nearby village. What he sees is agonizing; the village is in flames, multiple houses are burnt and several currently burning. The people are running around in a panic but most are trying to find loved ones. Peter watches in horror, his jaw dropping a couple of centimeters.

----

so thats it; uhh i might write more but idk we'll see. this is kind of a prologue to my main story and i might post that here but idk

peter and pax have a long way to go and antiphilli needs more character development lol

please let me know if you guys want silly stories or head cannons about them because I’d be really happy to do that. There’s so many more of my characters that I want to share to you guys via writing and I’m so eager to :D

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

We all know the semi-canonical ‘all the Robins know to hide/duck inside of Batman’s cape, even as adults’ thing.

We also know that Danny ‘is LITERALLY a ghost’ Fenton sucks at remembering his own intangibility while ALSO forgetting to look ahead of him.

All I’m saying is, Danny Fenton (or Phantom, if you’d really like) would absolutely SLAM into Batman on accident while running on roof tops and Bruce ‘Brooding Instinct’ Wayne doesn’t even think twice about letting the kid hide and scanning around for danger before there’s a record scratch of ‘wait who tf is this?’ kicks in.

[wizardology]

sorry I can’t be in a situationship. I want to eat each others souls

[aardvaark]

i don’t mind suspending my disbelief for leverage’s person-sized ventilation shafts bc that’s pretty standard for the genre, but that doesn’t mean i won’t laugh a bit at some of the egregiously large vents. particularly in the crowning acheivement job (lev: red s2 finale) because - well just look at this lol! harry and parker, two adults, can kneel side by side in those vents. parker can sit upright.

that museum was made for vent crawling purposes. that’s just an extra room in the museum they forgot to decorate. the leverageverse has a thief union that successfully lobbied for a better working environment. these vents double as a playground for museum-goers’ children. i was crying with laughter thinking about this and harry’s vent crisis was NOT helping me remember that there was a serious heist thing going on lol, i love this show.

[thatmooncake]

Let’s call them the Petty Podcast Pals!

[dingledraw]

It’s them

Wait, Jane Austen wrote books?

[blossoms-phan]

i am so fond of them and their silly little drinks 🥹

[otaku553]

Thoughts on being aroace

[theeminentlyimpractical]

[madbard]

I just played through Slay the Princess for the first time, and… I cannot stop thinking about the Cage.

To be profoundly and finally severed from the illusion of your autonomy. To look on, from a prison of your own making, as your body acts out a legacy of violence against the body of the only other person who can or will come near you. To see their body perform that same violent dance. To be bound to this person, and in your limited state not to understand why. In that moment, as the silhouettes in the shadows act out the story of the princess and the slayer, to share a moment of peace with the one sent to kill you.

Intertwined. Diminished. Reductive, mutually destructive. Trapped in an infinite dance.

Beautiful.

To have been so determined you never had free will, never could have found another way. To realize you may have been wrong. To be trapped in a pattern, but unaware of what that pattern truly is.

Still, for that finite and watchful moment, not to be alone.

(Mild gore under cut.)

(Also this art from the game haunts me.)

[robyntheredhead]

I’m really liking Hazbin Hotel, but Jesus I am so sick of streaming shows having short seasons. It would’ve benefited so much even from just another 4 episodes to spread things out a bit.

It feels like the show was just getting started, and now we’re already at the conflict leading into the finale.

[entwnii]

it’s already late at night when 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 walks out of the gym, his sport bag in his hand.

the droplets of water falling from his platinum blonde hair run down his face and the back of his neck. paired with the chill breeze of the night, it makes a trail of shivers run down his spine and goosebumps appear on his light skin.

god, why did he forget to bring a towel ?

he grabs his keys from the back pocket of his shorts before opening the car’s door, throwing his sport bag somewhere on the backseat while he slides down on the driver seat.

he turns his car on, a white porsche 718 spyder, hoping that his hair will dry during the ride home before driving off to your shared apartment.

the wind that blows through his blonde locks makes the pro athlete sigh in contentment, a small smile appearing on his slightly chapped lips as he drives through the busy streets of osaka, the neon lights of the stores lighting his face in various colors.

it doesn’t take him longer than twenty minutes to get to his residence, parking his convertible car in it’s usual spot.

atsumu grabs his bag’s handle and gets out of the car before locking it. he walks over to the apartment building’s entrance, opening the door and making his way to the staircase.

once he reaches the third floor, he walks over to the door of your shared apartment, the only one on the third floor.

the blonde-haired man unlocks the front door with his keys before stepping inside.

your fiancé carefully closes the door behind him, not wanting to wake you up. he kicks his shoes off his feet before placing his sport bag on the floor next to the door.

atsumu’s dark brown eyes are attracted by a small light coming from the living room.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the pro volleyball player walks over to the living room, scratching the back of his neck.

the frown on his face immediately disappears at the sight in front of him, a fond smile replacing it.

the television is on, mamma mia is currently playing on the screen, one of your favorite movies. there’s a plate of muffins on the coffee table, blueberry and lemon ones with powdered sugar icing on top along with a glass bottle of lemonade.

all the while you are laying on the skandi couch, facing the television, visibly asleep. one of your cheeks is pressed against the back of your hand, your eyes closed and your plump lips slightly parted. soft breaths escape you as one of atsumu’s large shirts is draped over your body.

despite all of his efforts not to wake you up, atsumu’s foot bumps into one of the couch’s footers, making him yelp at the sudden pain, which wakes you up.

atsumu watches as you turn around, facing the couch’s back, a frown on your face while a small whine escapes you. your eyelashes flutter open, trying to adjust your eyesight to the light coming from the television.

as you sit up, you start rubbing your eyes, letting a groan of complain before finally glancing to the side, glaring at your fiancé.

“sorry, baby.” atsumu flashes you a small smile, a hint of regret visible in his eyes, despite his urge to laugh at your sleepy appearance.

“how’s my future mama ?” he asks as he places his hands on the back of the skandi couch, leaning towards you.

“fine, but she was quite calm until you arrived.” you accusingly tell him, a subtle frown on your features as you place a hand on your baby bump.

“‘t’s not my fault she likes my voice.” atsumu lets out a chuckle, placing a hand on the side of your face, turning your head to place a small peck on your plump lips. “only two months left…”

you let out a small hum at his words, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

atsumu parts away from your plump lips, licking his own. “imma eat somethin’, what do ya wanna eat ?”

you scratch the bridge of your nose with your nails, thinking about his offer. “i want vanilla ice cream… with olive oil and salt.”

atsumu nods his head at your request, a small ‘kay’ leaving his lips before he walks over to the kitchen.

he knows better than to criticize your cravings, especially since it isn’t the weirdest one out of your seven months of pregnancy.

your fiancé turns on the kitchen’s lights, scratching the back of his neck as he walks around the kitchen to gather the ingredients.

he grabs two bowls from one of the drawers before turning over to the fridge and opening it. he grabs the vanilla ice cream container along with his oatmeal and the milk.

atsumu places a good amount of oatmeal into his bowl before pouring some milk on top and putting the bowl on the side.

he then begins to scoop out some vanilla ice cream, placing it in the second bowl before grabbing the olive oil. he pours a trail of the oil on top of the ice cream and sprinkles some sea salt on top.

the blonde-haired boy wipes the kitchen counter, cleaning the small mess he made, and puts the ingredients back in the fridge.

he grabs both the bowls, along with two tablespoons and walks back to the living room.

“here ya go, pretty girl.” atsumu announces with a grin on his face as he hands you your bowl and a spoon.

he slides on the skandi couch right next to you and digs into his oatmeal. he glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches the pleased expression on your face as you savor the ice cream.

“do you want to try it, ‘tsumu ?” you ask as you look over at atsumu, pointing to the mixture in your bowl with your spoon.

“nah, i’m not trustin’ you with that.” he shakes his head, a loud laugh escaping him.

safe to say that you were pissed at him after that, which only made him laugh more.

[peonypinksheep]

I like to imagine that the reason Scott (in character) is so prone to self sacrifice ties back to his inability to save Jimmy in third life. I just think it would be fun if that loss effected him so deeply that he vowed never to give up the opportunity to put his life on the line to protect someone he cares about again, to never be left to mourn and wonder what he could’ve done different.

He’s been the Winner, he’s been the widowed husband, and he hated it. He hated being the last one standing, the one left behind in the wake of everyone he’s lost. He looks at his new allies, friends, lovers, and he sees golden hair and red eyes and a lifeless body spilling blood onto the sand, he sees someone he couldn’t save and he sees a chance to Try Again.

It’s a loss that he carries not just across games but across worlds, like a permanent chip in his very code. It’s the reason why he was so ready to give his life in empires s1, knowing that every moment he was still alive he risked losing someone he loved to Xornoth. It’s the reason his happiest endings are in his afterlife, when death can no longer reach the ones he loves. When he’s already done everything he possibly could. When he’s allowed to rest.

[ej-artyarts]

The circus is now DIGITAL!

[cloudstuffs]

THE GANG

[messiahzzz]

friendly reminder that creators within fandom (whether it be gifs, edits, meta, fanfiction or fanart) choose to take time out of their day to provide you with new content for free.

it’s easy to take it for granted since it only requires a few seconds/minutes to scroll through your dash, but it’s important to remember that behind that there are often hours, if not even days, of work and dedication.