#have had this stuck in my head for FOREVER

[justaghostysposts]

My contribution to the Mr ring a ding fan art :)

[mintmatcha]

Even with the warming spells, the cold breeze off of the Northern Sea rips through your cloaks. Snow has already melted through your pants, shivering your skin and sapping away your body heat. It's a full days walk to the nearest port, then a ferry ride back to the mainland. In three days, you'll be out of his hair forever and he can move on, live a happier life than you could even provide.

The salt air burns your cheeks.

That is, if you can even make it there. You might die on the way. You don't know if that's a bad thing; not when the pain you carry is so heavy. Maybe it would be easier to just lay down and succumb.

Obsidian had said that you would break his heart one day, but it turns out that the opposite was true. His silver tongue bewitched you and you had lost track of the truth: men would always hurt you, always-

Your name is carried on the wind.

Obsidian. When you turn, he's running, barreling towards you with all the might his body can muster. Snow is caught on his shoulders and stuck to his coat, building as he rushes down the path.

There's no reason for you to run towards him. Your decision has been made, your die has been cast. This man has broken your heart beyond repair.

And yet.

Your legs move on their own. Just as you always do, you run towards him. When you meet, almost colliding with force, he takes you by the forearm and pulls you in close, arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"You're so cold." His voice is haggard, not entirely from panting. "I thought-- you're so cold."

You can feel his heart pounding under his skin, racing faster and faster. His body jerks with each breath and you suddenly realize he's on the brink of crying, sucking in air to hold back tears.

"Why did you follow me?" you ask. The real question you want to ask is why is he crying, but you bite it back, afraid of the answer.

"Why did I--? I would follow you to hell and back. I would swim oceans to find you." He drops to his knees, sinking with the snow, clutching at your legs with a fervent need, as if you'll slip away once again. "Every step I've ever taken was bringing me to you."

His frame is so big that when he looks up, his head rests against your torso. Those bright green eyes stare up at you, the whites red stained and glossed with tears. the ones that have escaped have frozen to his face, sculptures to his misery.

"Why did you go?"

The tears you had swallowed escape all at once. You sob, body heaving and shaking even as you cover your mouth.

"Obi..." you mourn as you wipe away his frozen tears. "I need to go. I'm not right for you."

He squeezes you tighter, gathering your coat in his hands.

"I don't belong there, Obi." You stroke the crest of his head, trying to engrain every ridge into your memory. "I know your mother wants-"

"I do not give an everloving fuck what my mother wants." Obsidian spits out the curse. It shocks you a bit. "I want you. I want you. I want you."

He kneels for you like it's worship, like he's praying for something he cannot have. It's mournful, hopeful, pained and healing. His expression is soft, even as his tears continue to roll.

"I want you."

Love is cruel, you decide. Vicious and cruel. The two of you cry together, frozen in place by the cold.

"Sorghum told me about the other girl," you say.l once you gather yourself. "The one you're going to marry."

Obsidian shakes his head together. "Other women don't exist to me -"

"The one your mother chose. The white-"

"Bubble?!" // He is so aghast the it makes you laugh through your tears.

"Sorghum translated your conversation." Laughter has freed more tears. "She said Umi matched you two-"

"She clearly did not translate well!" He swallows down his anger, over and over again. "Bubble and I were matched together, yes-"

You try to pull away, but he grips tighter, another plead. His manicured claws don't hurt when they dig into your skin.

"When we were children," he stresses. "I rejected the offer years ago-- before I ever left for school. My mother just wanted me to visit an old friend before we left."

The statement sits with you for a long moment. The bitter night has left both of you quaking and wet, shivering into each other's heat.

"But, Sorghum said-"

"Sorghum is a horrible, bitter woman who is caught in her own misery," Obi says. "I told my Umi under no certain terms that you are the love of my life."

He releases you to sit back on his heels, fishing into his pocket. From his pocket, he produces a familiar item- your abandoned earring. He holds it out with reverence, like it's a precious jewel.

"A direct translation would be that I have placed my heart in a silver dish for you to dine on," Obsidian says. "I am yours."

You uncurl your hand. The other earring had been gripped so hard that its edges cut into your palm. A perfect, heartbroken set.

"Loving me means we can't stay here. You'd be losing your culture," you whisper, barely audible over the howl of the wind.

"I don't want to stay here!" Obsidian gestures to the world around you. The ice barren cliffs, the white capped sea, the dot of a town behind you. It's lifeless, frozen and snowbound. Obi had always preferred the warmth, sun to bask in, warm waters for swimming. It had never occurred to you why he had ventured off, why he had chosen the life of a traveler when his family was waiting.

"I adore my family, but they do not control my life. They do not dictate my happiness. I left to explore the world to become my own self, to choose my own life." He stands finally to brush the hair back from your face. It's frozen in tendrils to your forehead. "And I choose you with every bit and fiber of my being."

He takes his earring and loops it into its place. His hand stays extended expectantly, waiting for your half of the set.

"I should have told you about Bubble, but I knew you were feeling othered. I didn't want to make it worse."

"I will always be a human." You place the earring into his palm. You look at him, truly look, drink in every curve of his face, every scale and horn and tooth. It's yours, all of him is yours and yours alone. "Loving me will never be easy."

He loops your other earring in for you. "It's always been easy to me."

Suddenly. you press on to your toes and press your forehead against his.

"Come home with me." Obi whispers. He holds you again, softer this time, now that he knows you won't slip away. "Let me warm you tonight."

This time, it's you who holds tight. "Keep me warm for the rest of our lives."

[matchpointfaist]

i can’t dance around it, i better be yours

part 3/3 in my challengersversary x luke hemmings release today! <3

tw for smut, angst

art would give anything to rewind. back to before the divorce, before the entire marriage, before tennis became his entire life, before he hadn't seen you in a decade. he remembered the day he left like no time had passed- the day you’d hugged him goodbye at the airport when he headed for california, leaving you and everything else he loved behind. you’d kissed him, just once, just a fleeting moment, but it stuck with him for years. carried him through stanford, through countless tournaments, through his vows to another woman.

he figured he was a bad person, a bad husband at least, for thinking of you so often, but you were all he knew for so long. the two of you walked to school together, spent your afternoons in your bedroom, snacking and talking about nothing in circles for hours, falling in love between episodes of your favorite tv show. his family was your family, his ambitions were your own. all until he left, until the miles separated the two of you in a way that nothing else ever had. when the plane landed, he vowed to never forget the feeling of realizing you weren’t beside him. it would forever be an open wound, never healing, never changing. just raw, empty, aching.

he had everything he should have wanted; a lucrative, insanely successful tennis career, a beautiful daughter, a wife that at one time treated him well. even after the divorce, he had the privilege of saying he’d been with a woman so many had wanted. what did it matter, though, if you weren’t there to enjoy the walks of life with him? he’d invited you to the wedding despite you having lost tough years prior, one final act of hope, an olive branch in the form of an invitation he hadn’t even picked out. you didn’t come, didn’t call, didn’t write. he heard from your sister, though, a short message saying that she heard about the wedding and congratulating him. he told himself it didn’t matter. this was it, the life he’d wanted. it just wasn’t what he imagined.

after the divorce settled, his thoughts drifted to you more than ever. he looked for you in everything, saw you in the pinks of the sunset and the dew on the trees in the mornings. he had to force himself not to reach out almost daily, constantly forcing it down, never wanting to disturb the peace he was sure you’d built without him. but then he got a text, just one singular notification. ‘i’m sure your numbers changed, but i just wanted to tell you i’m sorry about the divorce. she won’t say it, but she’s sorry too. she misses you.’ it was your sister, the first semblance of contact he’d had with you in ten years. it was enough.

he was on the next flight out, showing up to your apartment with nothing but a confession and hope, raw desperation and need for you to understand. he knocked twice, gentle, his heart in his throat. moments later, the door was open, and you were standing just inches from him, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “art,” you exhaled it like a secret, like your undoing, “what’re you doing here?” “i had to see you,” he said softly, his eyes burning with tears as they swept over your appearance, scanning for any changes, “your sister texted, i- i just had to see you again,” for a moment, he thought you’d turn him away, but you stepped out of the doorframe, gesturing for him to come inside, “we should talk,”

the two of you settled into your couch, his eyes raking over the space, taking in all the little details of the home you’d built. it was so you, little traces of your interests all over the apartment, candles that smelled like you and books left out on the table. “i’m sorry about tashi,” you said after a moment, your voice careful, tedious, “that’s awful,” “it’s okay,” he said quickly, “it’s just hard for lily, but it was for the best. you know that, right? it was for the best,” “art, i don’t know you anymore,” the words sounded all wrong, “i don’t know what’s best for you,”

“that’s not true,” he pleaded, “you know me- you’ll always know me,” he took your hand in his, eyes watering all over again when he saw that tears had already slipped down your cheeks, “there was not a day that passed that i didn’t think of you, okay? i was- i was miserable, i was exhausted and probably malnourished and worked to the fucking bone, and i- you got me through it. do you understand that? you always got me through it, then and now, and i know this is a lot and i’m sure you moved on but i had to tell you, had to make you understand. i was in love with you,”

you wiped your eyes with trembling hands, “i loved you too, art, you know that. but it’s been nearly ten years, we’re strangers now,” “no,” it came out quick, desperate, “no, we’ll never be strangers. god, if i knew it’d end up like this, i never would’ve left. do you understand that? i would’ve stayed with you, would’ve begged you to come with me. i’m so sorry, i wasted so much time chasing some pipe dream, i was too blind to see what was right there,”

“you have a daughter,” you say it like it changes anything, clinging to some reasoning that this won’t work after the years you spent telling yourself it wouldn’t, “and your career- the media would eat you alive for this, accuse you of cheating,” “i don’t give a fuck,” it’s easy, natural, “i don’t care about that. lily would adore you, anyway. anyone would,”

when you finally kissed him, it felt like coming home. it felt like children holding hands between their desks, pushing each other on swings in the schoolyard, like middle school dances and awkward photos for your parents, like exchanging notes in class and smiling like you held all the secrets of the world in your palms. it felt like asking you to prom, the incandescent happiness of you saying yes, like the blue dress you’d worn to match his eyes. it felt like your arms around him that day in the airport, the smell of your perfume carrying him through the flight, lingering on a hoodie that he had to this day, one that you’d bought on a school trip together. it felt like bracelets you’d made him on a loom you got as a birthday gift, like matching sunglasses and coffee dates after school and living again. everything, all at once, everywhere.

you let him take you to your bed, let him make a home for himself there underneath your silk sheets, stake his claim on a place he’d never known. he took his time, savored each moment, committed it all to memory. “wanna remember this for the rest of my life,” he told you, half breathless, “when we’re old and sick, i’ll remember the way you’re looking at me right now,” he held you after, ran his fingers through your hair, whispered little sweet nothings until you were dozed off in the crook of his arm like you belonged there.

when you woke the next morning, he was there, still asleep on the pillow next to you, his golden hair like a halo against the satin. “art,” you whispered, running a finger down his jaw, memorizing, “it’s morning,” “mm,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your wrist as he rolled to face you, “so it wasn’t a dream?” he smiled and the breath left your lungs, like always. “no, not a dream,” you murmured, “how long are you in town for? do you need to fly back soon?” “long as you’ll have me,” he pulled you to his chest, “this is it for me, alright? all my plans are right here. i mean it,”

you knew it was ridiculous. he had a life, a daughter, an image to maintain. but the two of you made a home in your small apartment regardless, never bothering to stray from your bubble, ordering takeout or cooking each other meals, eating curled up together on the couch sprawled across your bed. it felt real, felt like everything was finally coming together. like after all that time, all the pain and distance and other lives, your strings had finally connected.

[gardezamour]

does anyone else have the line - “the people of the underground deserve to breath” - permanently stuck in their head forever?

…cause i do and it’s eating me away

my mind comes up with a universe where vi stands behind caitlyn as she goes through her mother’s projects. and she has such an intense reaction to her trauma being replayed back to her.

like she gets terrified. she has to step back and force herself to see history through piltover’s eyes. how disgusting and painful it would feel to relive a half-realistic portrayal of the way her home fell apart because of poison and demons in masks. and then how those same things caused an argument in order to allow her friends and family to survive in the fissures they already had the curse of living in.

and the memory of her breathless mother doesn’t leave her head when caitlyn looks back.

[fffanii]

10.02.24

gahhh ive had such bad artblock recently my queue is decreasing in size rapidly but i must keep up the grind..!!!! throws these gays at you and runs away

[onlyloversleftonline]

It’s good that it happens in 2015/2016. It’s a good thing.

[lyn-ne]

Still waiting for my vbs beach event sega

[katierosefun]

my cancelled-able trait from the queer community would be that i really apparently love messy endings. i love u happy endings and i also love u such sad, messy, ambiguous endings . . . i love u endings where u have this weird pit in the bottom of your stomach because you know that there's love here but u have no idea what to do with it and u just have to deal with the fact that someone is profoundly affecting your life and you're not gonna get closure from it anytime soon . . . i love u queer love stories where it's really just "u don't always get to see the sunshine and rainbows at the end of it . . . sometimes all that's left is just one big question mark and the quiet hope that they get their shit together" . . .

[inkystaar]

spending 30 minutes to find a chinese song when you don’t speak a LICK of chinese is a special kind of hell

[invinciblerodent]

Y'know, I think ultimately this very line exemplifies a pretty big part of why I decided that this game would be the one I consider my "canon" one. It's not just because I'm terminally attached to my girl, or simply that I enjoy the story the game tells with her specifically, but also... this.

I'm happy to see how he thrives (and gesticulates, and acts silly) on a friendship path too, but I just can't help but be endlessly endeared by this goofy line that shows just how far he has come so nicely.

It was a long ride getting here, but to get this glimpse of what they are like without any mortal danger hanging over their heads, it genuinely feels worth it. ❤️

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[unnamed-atlas]

Who wants to bet I can finish this thing before Friday without throwing everything else in my life into complete disarray

[ssruis]

Going through a straight up comical amount of irritating situations to get the stupid 4* guaranteed ticket from the welcome to sekai campaign. It Will Be Mine.

[ramblingsofafanatic]

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[purple--queen]

Just thinking about Lokis nexus event & this whole Avengers timetravel thing & -

it wasn't suppossed to happen that Loki escapes with the tesseract which means that everthing that Tony & Steve did after Loki got away wasn't suppossed to happen either.

They should have never been in the year 19xx (i don't know). Tony should have never talked to his Dad. Steve should have never seen Peggy. This was not suppossed to happen.

Why did the TVA not stopped them???

I know that the reason is, because they (marvel, the writers ect.) were'nt thinking about the TVA & all this stuff while writing Endgame.

But thinking about it, makes me want to scream.