#hope this is okay fam

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday/wip wednesday

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 - tagging y'all back for wip wednesday 💖💖

doing two in one bc it's technically wednesday already idc lol - started a new wip I mentioned before (inspired by this video lol) and rn I'm rewriting what I wrote yesterday bc the past two days words were not wording and I hated everything I wrote, but I think I'm happy with it now haha I hope I'll manage to write it like I want to bc it's sooo good in my head istg haha

(wasn't gonna post until i have more but i need validation before i drive myself crazy over this lol)

___

It started as a random idea, more like a throwaway thought, really. Tommy was just checking the weather for the next few days – his hot pilot boyfriend always likes to be prepared – while they were hanging out, and he casually mentioned that “it’s gonna be nice on Saturday, perfect barbecue weather,” which got Buck to mention how they often have family barbecues at Bobby and Athena’s. Somehow, the conversation spiraled, and Buck’s not sure who threw out a more concrete idea, but here they are now, standing side by side in Tommy’s kitchen, preparing food – Buck’s currently slicing veggies for a salad, while Tommy takes care of the meat – for the barbecue where they invited way too many people than Tommy’s backyard can probably fit. It really is nice weather, the sliding door leading from the kitchen to the backyard open and letting in warm sunshine and a soft breeze that makes the air feel cooler. They work in pleasant silence, the only sound is quiet music playing from the speaker, and Buck can’t help a fond smile when he hears his boyfriend hum along, so off-key Buck’s not sure he even knows the song, but it’s still adorable.

The silence is disrupted by the doorbell ringing, and before Tommy can even move, Buck is dropping the knife on the cutting board, wiping his hands, and sprinting towards the door, shouting an “I got it!” over his shoulder. He’s followed by an echo of Tommy’s fondly amused chuckles. So he’s a little excited, sue him – they haven’t had a family day like this in a while, and there was only one he brought Tommy to, all of their schedules not so easy to align. And today his whole family will be here, including their spouses and children, and Tommy invited a couple of his friends and their families, too, and it’ll be just a big, loud, chaotic get-together that he’s hosting with his boyfriend. Buck never hosted one of these before, and he’s really enjoying it so far, and he just wants everyone to have fun.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway

@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck

@sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings

@buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend

@daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

the thing i love about bill cipher is that even after i've learned all of this stuff about him, seen him at the most vulnerable he'll ever get, seen him at his most innocent, i still can't give a flying fuck about trying to justify his actions. yes he's traumatized, yes he was twisted into what we know today, and while it gives a semblance of context to why he did what he did, it doesn't matter. he still ruined ford's life. he still drove and baited multiple humans to suicide. he still tormented every human he saw as his ticket out of the consequences of his own actions. he still took delight in his actions. he was willing to commit genocide for fuck's sake!!! (freezing all of the humans into statues). trying to explain away what he did does not get rid of what he did, but it certainly puts it in perspective. you won't be catching me being a bill apologist any time soon <3

[ash-arts-a-thing]

Thank you @carrionthefleshmonster777 first of all for the enthusiastic tags, but also for the idea ☺️

[thousandsonny]

Waiting for the Goose @saccharineheartx

[patrickblancos]

Does he like it? Yeah, he loves it.

requested by anonymous

[leviiackrman]

SIMS 4 OC BUILDS: Hokage Retreat

As of right now, the last house of my current sims builds is the home of the Seventh Hokage himself! Mumma Chika and their triplets: Nori, Kyo and Hiro, all live in this modern home, located on the outskirts of the hidden leaf village for a bit of well deserved privacy. Although both incredibly busy, Chika and Kakashi enjoy spending majority of their time in their home - entertaining their rambunctious children!

Lookbooks: Ackermans || Rikihisas || Enatsu || Kyutoku || Olalias || Hatakes || ATLA || Ginnivan || Ishimoto || Drakes

Builds: Saitama Loft || Sunset Cosy Cabin || League of Villains Hideout || Tiny Treehouse || Maritime Villa

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @carrionsflower @statichvm @risingsh0t @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @kanos @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraeshh @faerune @tekehu @jackiesarch @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @greenecreek @queennymeria @heroofpenamstan @tethrras @jamessunderlandgf @a-treides @solasan @bigbywlf @delzinrowe @fenharel @imogenkol

[jitters-art]

remember that one filler ep where itachi got to spend the day with sasuke and made him a huge meal? what if they did actually get to do that again……………

I MADE THIS AS A GIFT FOR @sasukeless ‘ BDAY TODAYYYYY RAAAAAAAAAA u are so epic and cool and i hope that you have a wonderful dayyyyy :DD u deserve the best ehehee EVERYONE GO WISH THEM THE HAPPIEST BDAY

[ ID: a digital drawing of itachi and sasuke in their kitchen. sasuke sits up on the counter, smiling wide with his eyes closed, and gesturing as he talks to itachi. itachi stands with his back to the viewer but is looking over at sasuke with a smile. itachi is cooking something for the two of them. there are plenty ingredients on the counter as well as a pot and pan on the stove. sasuke is drawn pale with a bandage on his jaw. he wears a blue tshirt, grey sweatpants and black socks. itachi is drawn tan and with his ponytail. he’s wearing a purple tshirt and black pants. END ID. ]

[gblogg]

 A Bumpy Ride

---

The car hummed along the highway, the rhythmic thrum of the tires, the only sound breaking the quiet. Beautiful autumn trees blurred past the windows as Nico and Phoenix made their way to Nico's family's house for a weekend visit. It was a trip they had both been looking forward to, but Phoenix had been dreading the drive more than anything.

Phoenix had always been prone to motion sickness. He had taken his medication, hoping it would ward off the worst of it, but as the miles ticked by, he felt the familiar queasiness settle in. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the roiling in his stomach, but it was no use. His mouth began to fill with saliva, a sure sign that his body was not handling the motion well.

Nico glanced over, concern etched on his face. “How are you holding up, babe?”

Phoenix shook his head, swallowing thickly. “The meds aren't working.”

Nico’s brows furrowed with worry. He reached over, squeezing Phoenix's hand. “I'm sorry, baby. We’re almost there. Just a bit longer.”

Phoenix nodded, trying to focus on the passing scenery to distract himself. But the nausea was relentless, building with every twist and turn of the road. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, hoping to keep the sickness at bay. He leaned back and was breathing slowly through his mouth, hoping to quell the nausea. 

The car hit a particularly rough patch of road, and Phoenix's stomach lurched. He groaned, his hand touching his stomach, his body jolted slightly with a hiccup. “Ugh, god..” 

Nico turned to Phoenix, worry evident in his eyes. “Hang in there, love. There’s a bag in my rucksack at your feet. Use it if you need to.”

He rummaged through the rucksack and pulled out the plastic bag, opened it and dropped it in his lap, and rested his head against the window, sighing. Nico rubbed his shoulder soothingly. He wanted to do something, anything to help. 

“It's okay, Fee. Just breathe,” Nico murmured, his voice calm and steady.

“I hate this,” Phoenix mumbled could feel the toast he had for breakfast sloshing around in his belly, the feeling making him want to gag. He groaned and put his head in his hands as everything started to spin, and the nausea was becoming unbearable. He opened the bag and burped over it. The car came to a stop, and he forced his eyes open, Nico had stopped at the side of the road. 

“Are you gonna be sick?” Nico stopped the car and touched Phoenix’s back, rubbing in soothing circles. His voice was filled with empathy and concern. His question was answered when Phoenix shook his head and gagged again, this time burping up some of his breakfast, which made an awful rustling sound as it landed in the bag. He coughed and threw up again, and Nico grabbed the side of the bag as it started slipping out his boyfriend’s hands. 

Phoenix straightened up, sniffling, and he almost melted as he felt Nico tracing his nails against his back. His cheeks puffed with another burp, and he moaned, “Lemme take that” Nico softly touched the bag, and Phoenix loosened his grip slowly. Nico took it and put it in a bin that was nearby. 

When Nico came back, he found Phoenix adjusting the seat so he could lean back comfortably. Nico took a bottle of water from the back seat and handed it to his boyfriend. Phoenix took a sip and rinsed his mouth, then drank some. When it stayed down, he smiled gently, and with a gentle touch, Nico reached out, his fingers threading softly through Phoenix’s hair.

“Thanks, babe,” Phoenix said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Nico sighed, “You don't have to thank me, love I’ll always take care of you.” He leaned over and kissed his forehead. 

...

The rest of the drive was slow and steady. Nico took extra care to avoid any rough patches or sharp turns, and he kept the conversation light and soothing. Phoenix leaned back, eyes closed, focusing on Nico’s voice and the feel of his hand holding his.

Finally, they arrived at Nico’s mom’s house. The warm glow of the porch light welcomed them, and the sight of it filled Phoenix with a sense of relief. They had made it.

Nico’s little sister, Lillie, ran out to greet them, her face lighting up with excitement. The six-year-old had her hair in the cutest little pigtails, her brown eyes glistening in the light from the sun. “Nico! Phoenix! You’re here!” she squealed, her voice high and full of joy.

Nico scooped her up, spinning her around. “Hey, Lils! Did you miss us?”

Lillie giggled, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Come inside! Mommy made cookies!”

Nico set her down gently, then turned to help Phoenix out of the car. “Hey, Lillie. Can you help us get our things inside? Phoenix isn’t feeling too well.”

Lillie nodded, her concern matching Nico’s. She grabbed Phoenix's hand with her tiny one, her grip surprisingly strong. “Come on, Phoenix. Mommy can make you feel better.”

With Nico and Lillie’s help, Phoenix made it inside and settled on the couch. Nico’s mom and stepdad greeted them warmly, their concern evident when they saw Phoenix’s pale face.

“Are you okay, Phoenix?” Nico's mom asked gently, placing a hand on his forehead. Her touch was warm and comforting, reminding Phoenix of his own mother.

“I'll be okay,” Phoenix replied, managing a small smile. “Just a rough ride.”

Nico’s stepdad, Mark, a tall man with a kind face, came over with a glass of ginger ale. “Here, Phoenix. This might help settle your stomach.”

Phoenix took the glass gratefully, sipping the fizzy drink. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“Call me Mark,” Nico's step dad said with a friendly smile. “And I keep telling you, you're family now, no need for formalities.”

Nico sat beside Phoenix, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. “We'll take it easy tonight. Just rest, baby.”

Phoenix nodded, leaning into Nico’s side. Despite the rough start, he felt a sense of peace knowing he was surrounded by people who cared for him. The warmth of the home, the soft lighting, and Nico’s steady presence made the discomfort fade into the background.

Lillie climbed onto the couch next to Phoenix, her big eyes filled with concern. “Are you sick, Phoenix?” she asked in her sweet, innocent voice.

Phoenix smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “Just a little, cariño. But I’ll be okay.”

She patted his hand with her tiny one. “Mommy makes the best cookies. They’ll make you feel better.”

Phoenix chuckled, his heart warming at her earnestness. “I'm sure they will, Lillie. Thank you.”

As the evening went on, Phoenix started to feel a bit better. He joined in the laughter and conversation, grateful for the love and support of Nico and his family. Lillie insisted on sitting in his lap while they played board games, her excitement contagious.

“Look, Phoenix! I made this drawing for you!” she said, holding up a crayon-covered picture of a family.

“It’s beautiful, Lillie,” Phoenix said, helping her hang it on the fridge.

Mark brought out a tray of cookies and hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the kitchen table, the room filled with warmth and family chatter. Nico’s mom told stories about past visits, and they all laughed at the funny memories.

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Nico held Phoenix close, whispering soothing words in his ear. “I love you, Phoenix. Thank you for coming with me. I know it wasn't easy.”

“I love you,”  Phoenix replied, his voice soft and content. “And it was worth it. Being here with you and your family... It means a lot.”

Nico pressed a gentle kiss to Phoenix’s forehead. “Sleep well, baby. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

[mugentakeda]

the tapping of his fathers pacing on the tile is almost enough to drive him mad.

“don’t let your brother’s incessant whining cause you to falter. this is merely a short visit to discuss the matter at hand, and then you’re on your way right back to ba sing se. he will try and whisper doubt in your ear.” the firelord stops to shake a finger at him. “do not listen to him for anything! i will help you in the best of my ability to have this taken care of.”

“i’m not,” iroh snaps impatiently, digging his palms into his eyes. “i’m not listening to him, father. he doesn’t care for lu ten and he doesn’t have to. he has his house and i have mine. empty words have little meaning to me at the moment.”

his father purses his lips. the sting of his stare digs down to the core.

“you say that,” azulon snaps, “but i believe this to be a family affair. its possible lu ten was taken advantage of because he was too busy protecting ozai’s wife and ozai’s children to protect himself. if that’s true, then ozai owes him. i don’t give a damn if he cares about him as his nephew or not. lu ten honored his house, so he shall honor lu ten in return by shutting his trap for once.”

iroh doesn’t have the strength to respond. he’d left ba sing se in a rush after receiving the news, and ordered the shipmen to get him back home on the double. he’s sick, he’s tired, he’s terrified and angry, and he misses his son something awful. the last thing iroh cares about right now is what ozai does or has to say.

there’s a heavy, sad sigh from above him. azulon slowly makes himself comfortable on the sitting cushion next to him, grunting as his bones creak. he sets the knocked over teacup straight again and refills it. the familiar heat and fragrance does nothing to soothe iroh, however.

“there is nothing i can say to make you feel better as of right now,” his old man mutters, sitting the teapot back down with uncharacteristic gentleness, “nor can i say anything sure about ursa or the children. but lu ten, he…. he is a remarkable young man. thick skinned and ornery. lightning generation at only 21, can you believe that? he beat you by a whole year. you must have faith in him.”

“it’s not about having faith in my son, father, of course i have faith in my son. but i have no faith in whoever has- has stolen him from me!” iroh suddenly exclaims, gesturing wildly. azulon flinches as his hands come dangerously close to knocking over the tea again.

your boy flagrantly disrespected you and stayed home to laze around, ozai had hissed, his narrow eyes locked straight up at the throne. both were kneeling before their father’s throne, side by side. i don’t know why you even bother. if he thinks he’s so grown up then he can save his own skin.

iroh didn’t bother to respond. he has nothing to say to his brother even on the best of days. all his life, he’s been nothing but a background character to iroh. always insisting on holing up in his room or office, never joining family dinners or celebration banquets. never one to offer his congratulations, but expects his older brother to offer his. yet, he always liked to think his word was of any significance to iroh. that he was always to be heeded. respect to his elders only means something to his little brother if there’s something to be gained.

flagrant disrespect. lu ten did not disrespect him if iroh never directly asked or ordered anything of him in the first place. he implied it, and lu ten pushed back. it hurt, but it would’ve also been the boys first true venture outside the fire nation. so iroh understood the hesitancy.

iroh would’ve just had lu ten by his side in his war council anyway. he would’ve never seen the battlefield or the city until iroh leveled it. not a spot of green would be spared by his men.

he had envisioned himself shooting a hole right through the flimsy palace wall with his lightning, and his son by his side. winning.

nothing has gone the way you made it out to be, great spirit. i don’t feel very lucky, as of late. the evening sun peaking through the tall windows of the corridor offer his thoughts no response. the general sighs heavily, and continues on his way.

the royal procession had gone through the beach house, along with the rest of the island. not a trace left behind. no sign of a struggle, either.

the procession claims it’s like they vanished out of thin air, sir, jee had whispered.

delicate situations such as this one call for holding the ones you trust most closer than ever. thus, iroh took only his personal guards from ba sing se back with him. jee is a rugged and introverted man, one that iroh knows can keep a secret, so he has been acting as his messenger man and valet for the time being.

another member of his most trusted circle is one of his longest working servants, one that belongs to iroh’s house personally. her name is su, and she is a stout woman around his father’s age. stern and silent, but trustworthy. she was the one that kept a close eye on lu ten from a distance during the periods of time iroh wasn’t around in his youth. she had been the midwife at his birth, she had been the one to pick the wet nurse.

and she had slipped iroh a journal outside of lu ten’s room. leather bound and stained in a deep red, with delicate embroidery of lotus flowers decorating its cover. it looked like something the lady ursa would gift him.

i came across this left behind in lady ursa’s garden, your highness, she had murmured fiercely. i snatched it right up and held it for you upon your return, lest it fall into the wrong hands.

the dark, warm silence of iroh’s own chambers is a small comfort, but the cold leather of the journal in his hands chains him to the cruel reality.

one of the vows iroh made for himself when lu ten came into puberty was that he would never violate his son’s privacy. he’d like to think that his son’s life possibly being in danger is a good enough reason to break it, but it still feels… wrong. especially now that he’s an adult himself.

it’ll be like eating a dollop of wasabi, he tells himself. spicy and painful one moment, then fading tingling the next.

with a sigh, he cracks it open to the back page. a few lines of familiar scrawl.

and the reason i torture myself trying to ignore all these things about him that bother me is because….

he looks away, shame crawling up his back. the candle sitting at the corner of his desk flicker along with his irregular, fear ridden heart.

a dollop of wasabi, he reminds himself. he opens his eyes again with a long breath and looks back down at the journal once more.

…well, that’s the crux of it. i just don’t know how to finish that sentence anymore.

that tells him a whole lot of nothing.

iroh flips the page back again, and is immediately overwhelmed by completely filled pages. then startled, by the sheer amount of times his own name pops up to his searching eyes among walls of scrawled text.

unease curls in his gut, like a dragon slowly rising from a slumber.

the ink doesn’t look too old. and su had said she found it in the lady ursa’s garden. and then jee said the royal procession claimed the fours’ trip to ember island was only to last three days, tops.

and as far as iroh knew, lu ten had been keeping quietly busy after iroh’s departure to ba sing se. lu ten willingly buried himself in paper work, always hunting for things he had the power to make into his business. training with lightning generation was grueling, and took hours, on top of the meditation necessary. and it takes a clear mind to even work with lightning, so…

had he done something recently to upset lu ten, and didn’t realize it? what things about iroh did lu ten torture himself trying to ignore? dramatic wording like that is difficult to overlook.

the general thinks back to how well his son can hide his emotions. lu ten’s court face beats even ozai’s, so it made him a gnarly pai sho opponent, but… he never did the backhanded comments. he can lie, but he’s a man of action before a plotting one. so you’ll never see the storm coming until it hits you directly in the face.

the letters he got back from him in ba sing se were… neutral. unbothered. he hadn’t seemed very troubled at the palace gates during his departure, either. tired and a bit wary, maybe.

but now that he thinks about it, the way lu ten looked at him had been… strange. his eyes had an emotion swirling in them that the general couldn’t read.

he rapidly rolls over the most recent letters in his head, the days right before leaving, trying to think of what he might have done to set lu ten off-

…the tiff they had on the evening before iroh’s departure.

he had forgotten about it completely.

spirits, he’d forgotten about it by the time he stepped foot on the shore. the elation of finally arriving at ba sing se, the first big step toward fulfilling the biggest thing he’s wanted to accomplish his entire life, the ultimate win, decades of planning and dreaming, inspired by agni herself…

he’d been caught up in the heat of the moment.

it didn’t even turn into an actual argument, that’s how small the tiff had been- a few things thrown back and forth during their private dinner, and the rest of it had been spent in awkward silence. iroh had let his hurt get the better of him, and he got testy.

the only thing that spoiled his ongoing luck, his relief of finally being able to go and crush his country’s most stubborn opponent, to make the second biggest win since sozin- was his own son not joining in, or showing any interest.

and that wasn’t even it. the closer iroh and his advisors got to bringing their planning to a conclusion, the more withdrawn lu ten became. whenever iroh brought it up, his son would close like a firelily in the night.

i assumed you were above teenage rebellion, iroh had muttered. i understand you want accomplishments of your own, but-

teenage rebellion? you’re joking, right? why do you always insist on- on patronizing me whenever we don’t agree on something? if you think you’re gonna guilt trip me into changing my mind, you’ve got it all wrong.

the disbelieving, ever so slightly shriller tone lu ten’s voice took on reminded iroh of his mother. she always had the habit of raising her voice a few pitches when she got upset. it reminded iroh of a coyote-eagle, once upon a time. the older lu ten got, the taller and leaner his face and physique became, the more time they spent apart, it’s like a vivid repeat of his mother. he even became a hand talker when iroh hadn’t been looking, just like fuhua.

(are habits hereditary, or had fuhua died after running away, and came back to haunt him?)

it’s probably best to start a bit further back in the journal. it might provide the context this father needs. he flips the pages for a few moments, and stops at random.

i spoke with a gentleman from the earth kingdom today during my observational trip through the colonies closest to the homeland. if you didn’t look close enough, you would’ve thought him to be any old fire nation fisherman, but i know green eyes when i see them.

his wife was a sailor that hails from caldera city. they met across the seas, in a neutral port town. they have two young twins, just barely older than zuko and azula. isn’t that something?

now, that is something iroh never bothered doing when he was a young man- it’s only now that his joints won’t let him run around chasing skirts anymore that he’s become a people person. but he’s proud of his boy for taking that initiative and having such a sense of responsibility, to go and mingle with the common man. an empathetic ruler that’s popular with his people will have the surest and furthest reaching authority, after all. iroh couldn’t name a single councilman off the top of his head that would be willing to even breathe the same air as a commoner, much less a colonial mutt.

however… this isn’t a colonial. he’s too keen on the idea of his family members’ abductors being petty, revenge seeking crooks from the earth kingdom to be okay with the idea of his son even conversing with one. for all they claim to be true and steadfast, them sneaking in and attacking an unarmed woman and her young children in their beach house just to get back at iroh is all too realistic of an idea.

but lu ten wasn’t unarmed. lu ten is one of the strongest men in the fire nation, and iroh isn’t even being biased about that. it takes prodigy to conjure lightning, and mastery to control it. and lu ten was very protective of ursa and the children- almost too protective. back in the day, during celebration parties at the palace, lu ten would damn near prowl around a pregnant ursa to fend off the careless crowd, lest they bump into her and jostle her. and he’d only been just a young teenager himself, so it was like watching a polar bear puppy that thought itself a snarly guard dog.

then a few years ago, there had been an incident where lu ten claimed zuko’s instructors were smacking him around. he’d grabbed both of the men by the collar and dragged them both viciously through the palace and right out the door- only after the sharpest scolding iroh’s ever heard since his mother was still alive. he’d never seen his son so angry. he’d chuckled at the way those old instructors had babbled apologies and fell to lu ten’s feet, while patting ursa’s back gently as she floundered.

no, it’s doubtful that an old fisherman had anything to do with it. earth kingdom or not. this is just something he needs to talk to his son about once he’s found. it would take a group of very strong benders to take lu ten down, at the very least.

he was wisecracking and friendly. we talked about his business, the officials that take care of the town and the surrounding environment, how he met his wife. he even shared his lunch during our time together- grilled fish, fragrant with sumac and citrus, and a chilled earth kingdom style mint tea. it was refreshing and unique, and i want to do it again. you’d think the fire nation would pick up these little things as it expands, but it just drowns it all out. i’m not sure if that’s a good thing. what made the food good was its earth kingdom style and seasoning, after all. what made the man interesting was his earth kingdom raised manner.

…what made lu ten think it was a good idea to write such things in a journal, and then be so careless to just forget it in ursa’s garden? he’ll have to thank su for her keen eye. if someone lacking critical thinking happened to pick this up and turn it in to his father, he’d have to deal with his son having allegations of sedition on top of everything else.

iroh, personally, is more than happy to let all traces of chilled tea get drowned out. it’s a frequent and light hearted debate between a father and son, the do’s and don’ts of tea. iroh is a stickler for tradition and enjoying the natural flavors. the fire nation boasted only the most fragrant flowers to enhance only the most delicate flavors of only the finest tea blends, after all.

his son claimed it all tasted like dinky dirt water, and stubbornly stuck with his cold hibiscus teas with herbs, and his heavily spiced and creamed saffron teas. it had been a big joke back then, but now… not so much.

a whole lifetime of a father making his son tea, sharing one of his passions. conversations over tea, tea for soothing a sore throat after screaming matches with councilmen, tea to wash down sea water accidentally swallowed at the beach. traditional methods, ceremonies, porcelain pots precious enough to buy a whole town- but it’s dirt water. yet an old fisherman from their greatest enemy shares ice water with a few mint leaves in a tin cup, and its unique.

and he wants to do it again.

the personal betrayal somehow hurts more than the blatant treachery written out plainly on the paper.

to be honest, i think that it’s a great shame that a good man like that has to be careful on his own property-property he paid for with his own money and built with his own hands- due to being from the earth kingdom, even if he has a strong marriage to a fire nation citizen. i thought about it for a long time, and realized that even if he wasn’t loyal to the crown, i didn’t mind. i don’t get angry at the idea, and i don’t think i ever have. i didn’t even think about it until i left. he made good company, offered to share his food with me, and introduced me to his beautiful children as if i was his new neighbor. i think community like that is something the fire nation needs. especially the nobility, who you’d think all have iron sticks shoved up their asses.

interactions like that are the most important ones to me, because they challenge me the most. i hate to cheapen that by thinking i just enjoy being challenged to spite my traditions and elders, or to be contrarian. that’s what coming of age means to me- looking inward, and asking the big questions.

…this can’t be why lu ten has been so distant lately.

the general slowly shuts the journal in dull horror. how long has this sickness had time to fester his son’s soul?

he swallows hard, and gingerly slides the journal in the folds of his robes. under no circumstance can anyone get their hands on it.

and later, when his gut quits churning and the candles around him quit threatening to set his room on fire, he’ll read this whole journal, front to back. brand every sentence, every symbol into his eyes. then he’s gonna burn it, bring his son home, and ask him what the hell he’s thinking.

the next morning, after letting the foul scent of burnt leather fade from his chambers, iroh finds jee.

“what can i do you for, your highness?”

“i need you to bring me the finest bounty hunter money can buy,” iroh murmurs. there’s a madness in his eyes and in his grip now that he’s had time to ponder the contents of his son’s journal, and what they entail. “and no matter what, it stays between us. i do not care what measures you must take to keep it that way.”

jee swallows hard and salutes with purpose. the poor man must be able to his see stress all over his face, but he’s barely containing himself the way it is.

this was no kidnapping. the blasted earth kingdom has everything to do with it, naturally, but it was no kidnapping.

jee returns to him that evening, followed by a lovely young woman, head to toe in black leather. her gait oozes confidence, and her narrow eyes scream danger.

this is definitely not the kind of finest iroh meant by finest bounty hunter money can buy, but he’ll take it.

“…i’ve, uh. fulfilled your request, your highness,” jee says. he looks flustered, and is clearly refusing to even glance at the woman.

“with a few breaks in between, i’m guessing. your collar is uneven, soldier,” iroh deadpans. he’d call it a shame if he wasn’t curbing an episode at the moment.

jee makes a faint noise of distress and fumbles with his uniform, blushing a deep red. iroh realizes that was the wrong thing to say at how the fair lady scowls at the crude jab.

she shoves past jee with an aggressive shoulder clip and crosses her arms before the general.

“i was promised a shitload of coin in exchange for some missing royals,” she says, voice clipped. “i don’t like to work with your kind, but good money is good money. and i can promise better and quicker results than any phony bounty hunter in the world- my companion is a shirshu. she can sniff out a rat from a whole continent away.”

a shirshu, eh? it would seem my luck has made its return after long last.

“impressive,” iroh praises truthfully. he’s a weak man for crass and foul-mouthed women. “i’d like to take a look at this beast, and then we can discuss the details and prices. i also hope you’re alright with keeping this transaction under wraps, my dear.”

she sneers. “you can call me june. and i’d highly suggest keeping a few steps away from my nyla, for your own good.”

jee clears his throat. “i’d listen to that one, sir. her creature is something else.”

iroh hums pleasantly, and keeps a few paces behind june as they go. a strange calm has washed over him now that the universe finally makes sense to him again; he has a few more people he’d like to question, and he’ll be all set. then sooner, if he’s lucky, rather than later, his sister-in-law, his nephew, and his niece will all be found and returned home, safe and sound. his son will be in his arms, whole and unharmed. ba sing se will simply have to wait.

and if they’re lucky, the dragon of the west won’t have thought up a better solution to finally grinding their sorry ashes into their own dirt by the time he gets back. but regardless, he will win.

[venti-death-watch]

arlecchino & venti may both have their own personal views on freedom, but they’re absolutely not the same. idk why i keep seeing people saying they’re so similar

venti’s ideal of freedom isn’t an earned freedom in the way arle’s is. i keep seeing people say it is, but. he wasn’t the one over them? he was support. they decided they wanted freedom on their own, and fought for it. then he chose not to rule over them because they didn’t want him as a ruler like that and wanted to make their own decisions. he’ll help them whenever they’re having trouble, but ultimately, they’re deciding what they want for themselves and doing it. he’s just there to help

arlecchino actively keeps the house of hearth kids in the house and doesn’t let them leave in pain of death/painful memory removal. she may talk about freedom, but she’s also making them decide between potential death via her blade or potential death via the memory stuff if they want to leave. she’s the one actively deciding what freedom means for them, and deciding that they need to fight & be strong for it. yeah, she says she likes conviction over strength, but that’s only true like, ideologically. she let the trio off because she’s interested in their development and wants to see where lyney takes the house. she still makes them fight for their choices/potential freedoms

neither of them are bad characters or anything, and quite honestly i prefer arle being morally darker than the others. it has much better storyline follow through than ei’s. but whyyyy are you trying to defang her. she’s more fun this way

[sing-me-under]

Look. Look. I still like Batfam. I think it’s fun and interesting and I like fandoms where the fans are actively engaging with each other…. I also think they need their own goddamn tag and needs to stop intruding into the rest of DC and even just straight up comics Batfam. Fanon Batfam just needs to be rebranded and be its own thing because if it is not its own thing, then I suffer trying to find literally anything DC that is not Batfam-centric. Y’all are fucking insufferable and need to keep your echo chamber contained.

Let me read fanfics based on the canon characterizations.

[puhpandas]

Genuine) Why do you draw Gregory with a scar?

he has a bandaid on his cheek and the idea of him having a scar is bomb and awesome. plus I like drawing it

also in some cases it gives insight on when things might be happening in a drawing so like no scar is pre sb and healed scar is a while post sb

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

I am at 59k on this Ninjago fic i swear I'll finish it this month I will work on nothing else I am going to finish this--

[kayden-valcourt]

Joey Jordison Monochromatic Painting!

Made this for my project in art class. We had to do a monochromatic painting and I chose to do Joey Jordison and use reds. :) Also I am glad I finished it today for his birthday! Happy birthday Joey!!!!! I love you!!! <3

This was the original I just had to crop out some of his shoulder, hand, and the top of his head.

[lunaetis]

@endweapon asked :

[ trace ] sender traces one of receiver’s scars ( eden's stellaron scar y/n )

nonverbal  meme  prompts. || accepting

─「エデン」─  EDEN hated the feeling of being exposed. the feeling of vulnerability, of being forced to reveal a part of her she would fight tooth and nail to keep hidden from sight. the trailblazer used to be quite open about herself, about what she was, about the truth behind her existence. she held no shame or need to keep a secret, however, things changed as time passed. as the JOURNEY went on, the more she knew, the less she shared.

                perhaps, the STELLARON had taken such a liking to the living weapon stood before her, as eden found her memory fragmented whenever he was presented. the cancer of all worlds pushed her consciousness aside, took over the body that was created to be its vessel and commanded it as if it was theirs. it's old, the seed of destruction, it's always so loud when he was here.

                this time was no different. it should've been no different if it weren't for a part of her being exposed against her will.

                eden saw everything even when her body wasn't under her influence, she witnessed everything through her locked up mind only to forget the moment she regained control. the AWARENESS never lasted longer than a few seconds. it was like waking up from a dream, however, this time, it wasn't the same. was it a fight ? she knew the stellaron was provoking him. the pain of the wounds and injuries was familiar.

                until she could feel it, the way the BLADE cut through her clothes, and her breath caught in her lungs, golden hues WIDENED and she screamed — her. not the stellaron. not the cancer of all worlds. not the corrupted self. her. eden. golden hues were blown wide, pupils dilated.

                " NO — " but it was too late. the attack landed and her skin was exposed. there it was, the proof of her existence. the LARGE SCAR that stretched from the middle of her chest throbbed wildly. the gold swirling and curling at the tearing marred her what was once flawless skin. this ... was her. this was what she was, what she was created for. everything that was the trailblazer was reduced to this very mark.

                the cold steel didn't harm her skin, yet, being exposed like this rendered eden completely silent, and the hold of the STELLARON slipped away. light returned to those aureate orbs, and instead of the sharp tip of the blade, she felt the gloved clad digits tracing along what looked like a crack in space and time, filled to the brim with liquid gold. life ? weapon ? both ?

                it pulsed, silently, lethally. her head throbbed, once, twice, and there was a ringing. it echoed dully within the mind of the TRAILBLAZER, pupils quivering uncontrollably, and ...

                ... a single tear slipped from her eye. exposed. vulnerable. empty. empty. empty.

                don't look at it. don't look at me.

                don't look at me ... or else you'd realize i'm nothing but a pawn.

                a living weapon. that's all i am.