#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.”

[chrisfromthefreakingspace]

Oh Ariana Grande......

[sainz100]

2024 Hungarian GP | x (edited)

[leenoe]

Waiting for the Goose @saccharineheartx

[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

[ash-arts-a-thing]

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

[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.

[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

[theha1rarch]

"She's My Mother, But She Has Never Been a Mother."

aka pluto wrote a six page (literally the doc is six pages long) long emotionally shattering drabble involving steve, patricia, technically the winchesters, & too many fucking feelings

i gotta tag the fam in this bc a) y'all are involved, & b) trust me - you wanna read this sorry it's so damn long though ... @milleroptimism @wantdead @patchedstars @dgrayd @lilyspaintedred @littletavpole

steve knows this might be a bad idea, that he might end up regretting agreeing to this - but his mother had insisted, had insisted and insisted that she just wanted to talk to steve privately before she left and so - after telling everyone else it’d be fine. he’d be fine. they’d gone to a private room in the house and now …

here they are. sitting across from each other, neither of them have said a word so far but steve isn’t as nervous as he could be, isn’t as afraid. if this had been his father, that might be a different story. but it’s his mother, here in the place he feels the safest, and he can do this.

he looks to her, deciding to take the first step and the be the one to speak. “so, mom -” and doesn’t that word just feel weird to use. heavy and bitter on his tongue when it’s in reference to the woman across from him. because she’s not his mom. his mom is in the next room over. “what did you want to talk to me about?”

patricia is quiet for a moment, before she seems to gather herself and offers steve a small smile, crossing her hands in her lap. “steve, darling, come home with me. please?”

it’s steve’s turn to be quiet for a moment, before he swallows - licking his lips and then speaking. looking directly at her once more. “why should i?”

patricia blinks back at him and he can tell, he can just tell she’s holding herself back. probably from calling him out for his ‘attitude’. “what do you mean, dear?”

“why -” steve starts. “should i go home with you? genuinely tell me, i want to know why.”

“well because i - we miss you, and we want you home with us. so we can be together again, we’re a family and it’s where you belo -”

but she doesn’t even get the chance to fully get her sentence out before steve is laughing. straight up fully laughing in her face.

and once again patricia doesn’t say anything. just abruptly cuts herself off, snaps her mouth shut and tightens her hands in her lap. it’s once again obvious she’s holding herself back.

after steve is finished laughing, he gives a little shake of his head as his gaze settles to her once more. “well, first of all, you don’t gotta lie to me, mom.”

“w-what?” is asked, her tone pinched - body wound so tight steve’s surprised she doesn’t hurt herself.

he rolls his eyes now, letting out a sigh. “you don’t want me home because you miss me or because you want me there. you want me home so you and dad don’t gotta go back to an empty house and worry about the neighbors talking when i’m not with you.”

patricia uncrosses her hands now, leans forward in her seat a little as her face takes on an almost desperate expression. “no, steve, dear, that’s not true. that’s not at all why, we - that … that’s not important.” she tries for another smile, a little shake of her head.

steve is quiet for a moment once again, before -. “if it’s not true and it really is because you miss me then where the hell have you been for the past several months?”

this time he doesn’t get an answer at all. this time she just quiets again, saying nothing - having the decency for once in her life to almost look ashamed.

steve lets out a little scoff, shaking his head once more. “yeah, that’s what i figured. i’m not fucking coming home, mom.”

patricia looks back up at him now, doesn’t even admonish him for his language and she once again looks desperate. “steve, dear, please. don’t do this. i promise we can change, we’ll try and be better.” 

it takes everything in steve not to start laughing again, but he does give another scoff - raising a brow. “right, yeah, sure, okay. like i haven’t heard that before.”

of course she looks confused now, of course she does. “what? when? what are you talking about, darling?”

she’s never used this many pet names for him one sitting, he can’t help but absentmindedly note before he answers her. “how about when i was ten and we were leaving the er after your husband gave me my first ever concussion? i’ve had four more since then, by the way. but i’m sure you knew that. just like you know i can’t hear out of my left ear, right? or … how about when i was twelve and was terrified out of my mind because there was a storm shaking the whole damn house and i was completely alone and i called your hotel crying. and after your husband yelled at me on the phone for fifteen minutes for bothering you so late, you came on and said those exact words … promised me you’d be home tomorrow … and you didn’t come home for three weeks after. still don’t like storms, by the way. or the dark, for that matter. or how about any of the million times i almost died over the past several years but you were never there but you sure as hell could make empty promises … or how about when i graduated from fucking high school and you weren’t there. and you were so quick to try to reassure me with those damn words … until you found out i didn’t get into college. then all you and your husband cared about was telling me how much of a disappointment i was to you. how about any of those times?”

patricia is quiet for a lot longer this time, several long minutes past and steve is about ready to just get up and walk away - ready for this conversation to be over, not expecting her to actually try any longer before … “steve. i - … i’m sorry you feel this way. but - i - this … you can’t stay here, steve. this isn’t right. these people, they aren’t actually your family. you hardly know them. that - woman out there. she doesn’t know you, she didn’t birth you. and she … she’s got so many other children, do you really think she can give you the attention you deserve?”

and steve, steve just stares at her - stares long and hard at the woman across from him, almost as if he can’t believe her. and honestly, he kind of really can’t. he didn’t think they could surprise him any more - but apparently he was wrong. “yes, i do.” he finally answers, his words slow and deliberate - as if he’s explaining something very complicated to her. “because she’s given me more attention in the past several months than you’ve given me my whole. entire. life.”

this time it’s patricia who lets out a scoff, throwing her hands up in the air. “i sincerely doubt that’s true.” and she’s clearly not holding back anymore.

and if she isn’t, then steve isn’t. “like hell it’s not.” he says, shaking his head and hating the way he can hear the anger in his tone.

“steve … come on now. stop acting like this. why are you being so …” and she trails off a little, suddenly as if she’s holding herself back again.

but steve, steve’s done with that. he’s done with the pretending. “so what, mom?”

“so unfair to me.”

and that. that’s it. that’s the trigger, that’s what lights the fuse in steve that’s been there since they sat down for this conversation and before he can really think of it - he’s on his feet, standing, almost looming over her.

“i’m being unfair to you? i’m being unfair to you? you’re kidding me, right? like you’re actually fucking kidding me?” and he knows his voice is rising in volume, he knows it might not be long before this conversation ends up a little more public than it’s meant to - but truly he can’t bring himself to care right now.

“no!” and his mom doesn’t seem to care any longer either. “no! i’m not kidding! you’re acting ridiculous, steve. and i truly don’t understand why. i don’t understand why you’re being this way. this isn’t how we raised you.”

“you didn’t fucking raise me at all!” and yeah, he’s definitely yelling by now. “so don’t even start on that shit. but, you wanna know why i’m acting like this? why i’m apparently being so unfair to you? because i - i’m fucking tired! i’m so fucking tired of you! and dad! and all your bullshit!” and he’s angry, he’s so angry right now his hands are shaking as he slides them through his hair - tugging hard. “i - i spent my whole life. my whole entire fucking life, from the time i was literally a child, thinking that i deserved everything you did to me. the way you treated me. maybe at first i thought it was normal, maybe at first i thought that just how parents were, but once i realized it wasn’t … i thought it was me. i thought there had to be something wrong with me, that there was some fucked up part of me that made it impossible for you guys to love me, to treat me normal, or whatever.”

he takes a second to pause, and he’s still angry - but all that age-old hurt is cropping up fast and now he’s trying really hard not to cry. he takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it out, patricia isn’t saying a word. she’s just sitting there. watching him. “but then, but then i came here. and i met these people, and that woman out there who you wanna shit talk so badly, and never once have they made me feel that way. never once have they made me feel like there’s something wrong with me, like i’m fucked up or broken or something. since the beginning, all they’ve shown me is love. like that unconditional type shit. even when they didn’t know me very well yet. and the thing is, they don’t have to. like you wanted to point out - sarah, my mom, didn’t birth me. but she still loves me like she did, she still loves me like it’s as easy and natural as breathing. like … like …” you were supposed to, it isn’t said out loud - but he knows she understands - if the look on her face is anything to go by.

she’s still quiet though, still not saying a word. so once again, steve continues - the attempt at not crying only growing more difficult - especially as he thinks on these next words. “there … there’s a little girl here. that lives here. with us. and … she’s the same age that i was when i first asked myself what was wrong with me. why i couldn’t just … make you guys care. why was i so messed up that my own parents didn’t even want to be around me and … the thing is, no one here would ever let her feel that way. no one here would ever let her think there was something wrong with her - i … even if she did, we’d do our best to make sure she knew it was the furthest thing from the truth. and i just - i look at her, and i think about that, and i … of course we wouldn’t. because she’s - she’s just a little kid. and i … i was just a little kid.” and now … now the tears are falling, now it’s hard to hold them back any more. even if he’s trying his damndest to ignore them.

“and i just …” he sits back down in his seat now, wiping at his face - letting out another shaky breath. “i just don’t get it. i don’t get how you could do that to me, how you could treat me that way. i was just a little kid. i’d never fucking do that to her. and i just …” he shakes his head again. “i’ll never understand it, but - i know i didn’t deserve it. i might not have known that years, or even months, ago but i know that now. i never deserved any of it. because i was just a kid, and i didn’t do anything. except exist. and that pissed you off for some reason.”

he’s not crying any more now and he fully straightens up once more, finds himself fully facing her once again. “so no. i’m not coming home - though that place isn’t my home anyways - with you. i’m not going to leave just so things can go back to the way they’ve always been. so i can see you for three days before you’re taking off again. and then i’m stuck once again wondering why i wasn’t enough. no. i won’t go back to there. i won’t do that shit again. because i don’t deserve that. i deserve better than that. i deserve to be here. so i’m staying here. this is where i belong.”

if he thought patricia had been quiet for a long time before, it’s nothing compared to now. the two of them sit in silence as the minutes stretch on - staring at each other, but this time steve waits. he waits to see if he’ll actually get a response.

and finally, finally - after maybe a little too long, she gives a little nod and opens her mouth. “alright, steve. alright. clearly nothing that i say will make you come hom - come back with me, so alright. if this is where you want to be, then i can’t really stop you anyways. you’re of age. so, i guess that will be that. i’ll talk to your father, don’t worry.” she gives another little nod as if to confirm this.

and there’s a lot more steve wants to say, more he wants to ask. there’s a part of them that wants to question, that wants to beg her to actually address anything else he said. to actually pretend for once that maybe she cared, just a little bit. that maybe his words actually had any impact on her. that maybe, just once, she actually felt ashamed for the way she let him grow up. but, he has a feeling that won’t them anywhere anyways. because really, there’s no point in trying anymore.

“okay. so … are we done here then?” and he simply gets a nod in response. “okay, i’ll show you out then.”

and he rises in his seat again, she does as well - he guides her out of the room and as they cross into the next - into the others - he can feels eyes on them. on him. but he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t look, he doesn’t say anything - just continues to guide her to the front door. and once they reach it, he stops - opening it to let her out.

“well, i guess this is goodbye …” he starts, trailing off and when he faces her, there’s an expression on her face, that he can’t quite place. she gives another little nod now. “yes, i suppose it is.” she says, but it seems like there’s something holding her back - like she’s not ready to leave quite yet.

and he’s about to question it, about to ask what’s up, figure out why she’s stalling - when suddenly she’s stepping towards him and instinctively he tenses, unsure what is about to happen … when he feels arms wrapping around him. her arms.

he blinks several times, not sure how to process this. process the fact, that for the first time in his life, his mother is actually hugging him. actually hugging him, a full, real, hug, her arms wrapped completely around him, her warmth fully against him. and … well, he can’t quite help the way he ultimately reacts. as his eyes flutter shut, as he wraps his own arms back around her - and for a moment, for just a moment, he’s not nineteen years old, for just a moment he’s that little kid that wanted nothing more than a hug like this from his mom.

“i’m sorry.” and steve almost doesn’t believe it’s actually coming from her mouth, wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t so close to his ear. “i’m sorry i wasn’t a good mother to you. i’m sorry i wasn’t the mother that you deserved.”

and those damn tears are threatening to fall once more. “thank you.” is what he breathes out, and it’s almost like a sigh of relief, and he can’t help the way he hugs her harder.

they stay like that for a few more seconds, before finally she pulls herself away and steve lets her go. she steps back enough to look at him - and as if this couldn’t get any more surprising, she reaches up to cup his face, albeit briefly. “you take care of yourself, alright, steve?”

and he bites back the urge to respond with something snarky - to give a response like ‘no worries, been doing it my whole life’, instead - he gives her the smallest smile he can manage. “you too, patricia.”

she doesn’t even seem to react to the name, just drops her hands now - steps back completely and with one final nod turns and makes her way fully out of the house, down the steps - into the car containing his father waiting for her below, and out of his life forever.

[vxidlight]

@lumineclervie liked x for a winter-themed starter from Layla.

Layla was packing away her instruments for the coming winter break at the Akademiya. She had plans to return to her home village and see her parents. She rarely saw them since she had started her schooling so it was about time she visited home. The idea of seeing the Sumpter Beasts again on the farm sounded just as nice, even if she would most likely be spending the holiday trying to get her paper done.

Layla went down her checklist of items, double-checking that everything was packed and ready for her trip. Once she was done, she sighed and went over it again because she was anxious she'd forgotten something. When she was absolutely sure everything was there. She finally allowed herself to relax. She looked at the time-

"Oh! I'm going to miss the caravan!"

She jumped from her comfy chair, grabbed her suitcase and ran from the door, locked it with shaking hands and then took off running towards the meeting place of the caravan she'd be travelling with home.

[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

[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.