#i accept criticism btw

[skierisa]

dont mind about the weird shadows on their faces and table, i'm still figuring it out and by now it's just a test i swear

i've been doing this since april when will i finish it aaaaaaaaa

[solacedeer]

happy october 10th

[eldritchstranger]

(X-men '97 spoilers)

I have no idea why I suddenly became so enamored with Gambit, like seriously it came out of nowhere, sometime after my second rewatch of dpxw but before seeing him anywhere else

But today I was watching X-men '97 for the first time and I realized that Remy physically could not touch Rogue, couldn't hold her, couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t feel her skin in any way without gloves or clothes in between them, but he still loved her and wanted her. and if he hadn't died, he would have continued to choose her. "Some things be deeper than skin"

Something in me knew. Somewhere deep in my soul, before I even realized, my asexual ass was like that one. We like that one.

[mesapies]

I think it'd be interesting to see iroh/zuko interact with ppl that don't and will never forgive them. And not in a villian trying to take revenge on them type of way. Ppl don't have to forgive the guy that burned down their village, was the direct or indirect reason their loved one died, etc just because they changed.

Especially with iroh living in ba sing se after the war, the same place he tried to conquer 10yrs prior.

There was this small moment in the iroh/june team up comic that came out a little over a month ago but the writing makes it seem like the guy was totally wrong for his hatred of iroh. Now I don't like how it's worded but I like concept of ppl acknowledging that iroh wasn't always a good person and what he has done did and still does effect ppl in their daily lives.

I also wasn't a big fan of the writing here because it almost infantsizes iroh even tho he's a 60yr old man that was a general of a military for years.

Anyways, he lives in the same place where years ago he was the reason of death for ppls siblings, children, parents, significant others, friends. He walks past them everyday. He's probably seen memorials of the ppl who have died during those 600 days. Not even just the soldier but the citizens as well. It was 600 days long, over a year and a half of consent violence, ppl probably starved, especially those living in the outer area. They didn't know if the wall was going to finally crumble and that day was going to be their last. There's no way everybody is just gonna be ok with him living there after the war just because he's good now and sells good tea.

I think there should be ppl that don't like and will never forgive iroh and even zuko for the stuff they've done, no matter what they do to try to make up for it. And they shouldn't be villanized for not forgiving either. Like I said ppl don't have to forgive the guy that harmed them or the ppl they love physically, mentally, or emotionally just because they've changed for the better. Ppl can acknowledge they changed, but that doesn't take away the pain they've caused ppl. There gonna be ppl that forgive them no problem, ppl that don't forgive them right away but later come around, and ppl that won't ever forgive them. I just wish there would be more exploration on ppl that will never forgive them.

[joeytime]

Maxiel Hogwarts Au...

If you asked Max what he thought of Hogwarts, he would likely make a joke about pigs and insult their quidditch teams.

He isn't sure it's smart to do that now, in the middle of the Hogwarts' grand hall, completely surrounded by Hogwarts' students and staff. He isn't sure he could escape even if he had his broom.

"Wow, you really hate Hogwarts." The dreaded hat says atop his hair.

Shut up! Max thinks furiously at it. Get out of my head!

Everyone stares intensely at Max, not daring to breathe while the fate of the member of the national quidditch team is being decided. Even the teachers are at the edge of their seats, other than Dumbledore, he seems to know where Max will inevitably end up.

"Little quidditch champion. Everyone is expecting" The hat says, as if it's life of forever moving from head to head to call one of four words is somehow a greater destiny than Max's.

It's not. Max knows he will go on to succeed in life, and win as many quidditch championships as he wants and then retire on an island in The Maldives with a butt load of cash while the hat is left in a dusty room, waiting for it's yearly use. Max wants to reach to rip it up but it would not be wise to do so in front of Dumbledore himself. His hands stay in his lap, frown etched on his face.

"Impatient. Immature." Max's fingers twitch slightly. There is only so much backtalk one can take from a hat.

"Violent and uncaring, wherever will I put you?" Max doesn't agree with that description, he cares plenty, about winning that is.

"Foolish. Foolish boy." It doesn't hurt, Max has heard those words plenty of times.

Max sulks.

It's a beat of silence before the suspense reaches its climax. "Hufflepuff! " The hat hollers, not bothering to consult Max on it's decision. Which is very rude and impolite.

The entire room erupts into chaos, screams of "What! " and "No way! No way!" echo throughout the hall.

Max can't help but agree, he thought he might end up in Gryffindor or Slytherin, maybe Ravenclaw if he was super unlucky. But Hufflepuff? His father was going to disown him. The media are going to have a field day. Well they were going to already, regardless of which house Max was put in.

Dumbledore moves to pull the hat off of Max, the treacherous thing whispers one last time: "Things will make sense in time. Be patient. Do not mope."

Max doesn't mope. Verstappens can't mope, so he doesn't.

Dumbledore gently guides a slightly speechless Max to the Hufflepuff table, pushing him into the seat before winking and walking off.

Max wants to burn down this school.

Cheers erupt from the Hufflepuff table, hands coming to pat him on the back and fawn over him.

The other tables seem miserable at the prospect of losing out on a quidditch champion.

"Oh my god! Hi! Hi! Oh my god! It's you!" A boy excitedly chatters to his left, other students crowd around him and Max suddenly finds that he can't breathe. It's like he's small again, after being knocked off his broom by an overly excited big kid. He had fallen to the ground, too exhausted and overwhelmed to get back up.

His father had been mad, really mad. He hadn't slept well again after that.

"Guys! Guys! He doesn't look so good. " Whoever that is, is definitely right, Max can hardly breathe, he tries to use the breathing technique his father taught him after his first match, control his breathing. It doesn't work, it only causes the panic and urgency in his veins to surge. It did work, it's purpose was to put him on guard, not calm down.

He curls into himself, hands around his ears to protect from the deafening sound of crowds cheering. His bubble of personal space is of course pried and poked at. Fans never had any self awareness when it came to these matters and his father never did have sympathy for personal space.

Hands are pried away from him, he can hear outraged screeching at the action. His own quidditch team's screams when he was 6 years old and pulled away to join the older kids. They thought it wasn't fair that a small boy climbed the ranks faster than they did.

"Hey! Hey! Everyone back up right now!" The entire opposing team bombarding him in an attempt to stop him. The referee's reprimand that fell on deaf ears.

The people at his sides are replaced and gentle hands hold him back up, out of the ball he curled himself into.

Max doesn't dare look up, too afraid at the thought of seeing his father's judgemental look.

"Hey, are you okay? " Max turns his head, soft, gentle, warm eyes, concerned. Jos was never concerned, he was the uncaring one! Not Max!

"I'm fine. " A repeated response, practiced again and again every time he came home to his mother.

The teen with the soft eyes gestures for another boy to sit on Max's other side. The boy opposite Max looks on in concern.

"Hello. I'm Daniel Riccardo, I'm a prefect of Hufflepuff, it's nice to meet you." The gentle boy says, eyes still filled with concern.

"Max Verstappen. " Max manages to choke out.

"The boy on your left is Yuki Tsunoda and that's Lando Norris." Daniel gestures to the boy sitting opposite Max, who waves shyly.

The ruckus Max's sorting caused calms down and everyone settles down to listen to Dumbledore's welcome back speech which luckily does not mention Max.

Max feels strange between Riccardo and Tsunoda, like dread wrapped in false cotton. Norris also peers at him from time to time, creep.

They're sent back to their dorms. Max tells Riccardo that he can get there on his own but the older boy frowns and insists that he takes Max. Max thinks his father would be disappointed at his complacency but he doesn't have the strength to fight it.

Riccardo leads him to the kitchen, Max wants to snap some insult about him being a goody two shoes and how this is none of his business. He holds his tongue.

Riccardo gestures to a specific barrel, looking more worn out than the ones around it. He taps a certain beat, perhaps it's a secret code. That's childish, Max decides, they are not children playing in a fort.

The barrel swings open.

Max grimaces at the small tunnel.

"Here, you try tapping it." Riccardo puts Max's hand to the barrel.

Max repeats the rhythm perfectly. Memory exercises were part of his training.

Once Riccardo is satisfied, he points at the tunnel, almost as if he wants Max to crawl through it.

Max scrunches his nose, seriously? The older boy points more urgently and Max relents, shoving himself through the tunnel.

Well, not shoving, he's not really big, a fact his father loathed, putting him on diets with large sums of proteins and even attempting to use transfiguration spells before it was put to a stop by his mother.

Max wished his mother had not stopped his father. Maybe he would have an excuse not to join this god forsaken house.

It's an agonizing 5 second crawl before he pops out the other end right in front of Lando Norris, the boy before.

Daniel appears behind him, putting a hand on Max's shoulder.

"So Max, this is the Hufflepuff house. You know Yuki and Lando. That's Oscar, Nico and Valtteri." Riccardo urges the boys to come forward.

"It's Verstappen. " Max declares, Riccardo quirks an eyebrow and the rest of the boys look equally confused.

"Hi! I'm Lando! I'm like a huge fan, do you mind signing this for me? " The boy's yellow robes are somehow orange.

Max's PR training kicks in and he smiles one of those sickly sweet smiles that his father loves to wipe off his face before ordering him to smile again. His posture straightens and he reaches a hand around the younger boy's shoulders, patting him on his back once, twice. Just like he rehearsed.

"Sure! " His tone is so obviously a faux sweet as he reaches to retrieve the black marker from his back pocket. The boy has stars in his eyes and Max feels guilty, he always does. He's a fraud.

He signs the hat from his national team, the one he left behind.

He wishes he didn't.

"Hey, are you okay Max? " Riccardo asks, looking weird again.

"I'm doing great, how are you? " His PR trainer said asking back these questions were endearing, cute. Max's father had mocked him for that act, his trainer had been fired after that.

"How about I bring you to your room? Would you like that?" Riccardo asks, Max smiles again, nodding.

"Sure." Norris waves enthusiastically as Riccardo leads him out of the common room and into his private room.

"Are you alright? Max?"

"Call me Verstappen."

"Verstappen. Are you alright?"

"You can go, Riccardo. "

"... Call if you need anything."

When the prefect leaves, Max wants nothing but to burst into tears. He flops onto the bed.

The next day he drags himself out of bed. Even if classes don't start till 9 and the sun hasn't risen yet.

Jos expected him to continue his strict training regime. He was almost tempted to skip it and lie to his father but he thought he better not after his humiliating sorting from yesterday.

Now, alone, Max can see the Hufflepuff room properly. It's... It's all gentle lighting, none of the bright fluorescent lights his room had. The chairs looked comfy and the many plants lazing around the common room tempts him to join them.

Perhaps that would be a better fate, turning into a plant to live the rest of his life in the common room. His hand lingers on his wand, mind on a spell his professor taught him when he was just 9. He didn't.

When he had crawled out of the Hufflepuff room, fully dressed, broom in hand, the sun was just peaking from the horizon.

The halls are empty, some portraits mutter as he walks by. His father's portraits never moved, other than those instructed to. For example, a painter that never stopped moving his brush or a surfer never to take a break from the sea.

Making his way to the Hogwarts field, he stretched, slow and patient. His bones crack from the exhausting day he had before.

The field is decent sized, not as big as the one he played in during national championships, bigger than the one his father made him run laps around till he fainted.

He glides through the air easily, flying comes easily to him. If he were to be given his own time and freedom he thinks he would likely still be a top player in the school leagues.

It's better that he was hurled up though. Better to have reached the top by sheer force of his father's training.

He thinks about his national team, he's a reserve, too young to play officially but the team has him in some practices and he attends smaller competitions for them. Max suspects it's more about having a claim on Max when he comes of age.

He's 15, he still has 3 years to choose which team he wants to go to. By then, he will make his own choice. He will not do whatever pleases his father anymore.

The golden snitch twinkles near the end of the field. Max pretends not to see it.

It is fun, sometimes, tricking the golden snitch, allowing it a false sense of security. Like a tiger cub playing with a cricket.

His father would get mad at him if he did it for too long, he was upset his son couldn't catch it at once. Which Max could, he just didn't see the fun of it.

The fluttering golden ball is in his hands before it can even think of escaping.

Max briefly wonders if the snitch can possibly think, he lets it flutter away, repeating his game once again.

In the golden light of the sun and shaded path of the clouds, the wind whizzes past his ears, he falls into the familiar rhythm of flying, sometimes he makes his own obstacle courses, weaving through imaginary hoops.

By the time the sun reveals itself fully to watch Max fly, he realizes that a crowd has gathered around under him, star-struck Hogwarts students watching, mouths open and everything.

He flushes slightly, he may have had many adoring fans due to his membership in the national team and young age but come on! These were his peers.

Max lowers down, checking his watch to see that it is indeed 8.30am and he has to run if he wants to get to class not drenched in sweat.

He waves slightly to the crowd, zipping to the house dorm even though he's probably breaking several school rules.

He knocks the tune and enters quickly, still high from the adrenaline of flying.

He climbs out of the tunnel only to come face to face with Daniel Riccardo, his face stern and stony.

"Verstappen! You can't just sneak out like that!" Daniel's expression softens when he sees Max.

Max knows he feels pity even if Riccardo knows nothing about his life.

"I of course did not sneak out, I left my room and went to the field." Max doesn't think early hour training counts as sneaking out, going to parties in the dead of the night is sneaking out.

"Max, we were worried. I went into your room and you weren't there. Thought you'd been kidnapped by the other houses to play quidditch for them or something... "

Max considers this briefly, Riccardo knocking on his door gleefully, freezing when he doesn't get an answer. Did his blood pressure spike? Did he throw Max's door open in desperation only to find the room empty?

Max grimaces.

"I went to go training... Sorry..." Max stands awkwardly, hands by his side like a child being punished by a parent.

Riccardo sighs. Max wants to cry.

"Please forgive me, I'm of course sorry, I will do anything!" Max cringes inside, begging with someone other than his father is a foreign concept.

Riccardo has a cheeky smile on his face, Max is almost scared.

"I'll forgive you... Only if you call me Daniel!"

Max groans inwardly, well he's also partly relieved but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

"What will it be Max? Will you call me the d word? Or will you suffer in my never ending spite! "Daniel's grin grows.

" Fine. "

" Fine, who? "

"Fine. Daniel."

Max flushes, weird.

Daniel looks elated.

[kiwisandpearls]

I do kinda quirk my eyebrow at how toh had the message of “being weird is ok!” and yet barely utilized their less human-looking characters (except for king and his dad, and I don’t even think they utilized papa titan well)

(here are examples of what I mean by less human looking characters)

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2023 EDITION) ↘ D-2 | favorite hyunjin looks of the year

[nukacourier]

I gotta say this. While Fallout 4 does have the weakest writing out of all the Fallout games, you can still acknowledge it has great characters like Valentine/Hancock/MacCready/etc and the game is fun to play in general. If you think anyone who enjoys the game/its characters is a "fake fan" or "newgen" I'm gonna take my boot off and beat you with it

Sometimes people just wanna dick around in a game and not have every moment they scratch their ass affect the storyline and that's FINE!!! Chill out. Not every Fallout fans has to be praising 2 or New Vegas constantly just to enjoy other games

[comingyourlugubriousness]

My hot take.

Bonus Pic, Leona calling bc he thought he would remember what MC said but didn't and Ruggie is clowning him for it.

[khaoray]

Only Friends Ep.5 + text posts

[crowlore]

i remember it used to be a bit of a fandom pet peeve of mine that some people would forget that the gung ho guns and eye of michael were two separate groups with some membership overlap but then stampede came along and made the eom into a project of conrad’s backed by knives. another example of how the reboot feels like bad fanfiction.

[bullshitcharacterssay]

Stilgar: Hey, Gurney , what do you think it would be like if we had kids?

Gurney : What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.

Stilgar: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?

Gurney : Can't really say I have.

Stilgar: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.

Gurney : Sorry, Stilgar. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.

[demons-i-get]

WAIT BIG BRAINED THOUGHT:

Sam does smth stupid hoping Dean won't find out.

Someone rats Sam out to Dean.

Sam gets in trouble and a lecture from Dean (bc Dean is a parent and he is Sam's parent I will not accept criticism on this matter).

Later, Sam makes a group chat consisting of everyone who could have told on him to Dean and just sends this video:

[chanrizard]

not stays saying they will support this collab bc it will be a good opportunity for the boys pls💀 charlie puth leashed himself onto bts years ago even after talking shit about kpop and the only one getting more famous and more air time was him no group needs that dude but he aparently needs them all to stay relevant

honestly i kind of forgot he even existed cause i dont like his music and i dont like him and from what i gathered from my american mutuals he's not even that popular there??? when this collab is supposedly targeting the US market specifically so. make it make sense. in a way that doesnt involve being a money-hungry wretch with zero moral principles that is and yeah with the way the kids exploded on their own between last year and this year i really don't think they need to attach themselves to someone else and especially not a has-been to "open more doors" or whatever the hell people on twt are telling themselves to justify them supporting this garbage of a collab

i don't doubt skz put hard work into it but i don't approve of it. at all. so no i won't be streaming it and this + the fact 3racha is credited after his name & his producer's name really reads like a song that was already made and then they decided to make it a """collab""" in the hopes the fandom would see "skz" in the credits too and go bonkers without even stopping to think about who and what they are supporting

and i hate to say it but apparently the marketing team was right

[jar-of-maise]

hcq: jing yuan & yingxing drabble

“What kind of women do you like, Shi-xiong?” Jing Yuan asks one day, when he has a rare free day. He is sitting on one of Yingxing’s workbenches, that annoying little brat. It’s not even like Yingxing has invited him before, it just so happens that Jing Yuan came once, once and wasn’t immediately evicted by Yingxing. Now he won’t leave. 

Maybe Yingxing is also a convenient babysitter. Jingliu probably thinks so, given how she doesn’t reprimand Jing Yuan for idling around the Artisanship Commission…until he’s slacking off on official training. 

“What sort of question is that?” YIngxing asks in bewilderment, nearly hitting his thumb with his hammer in surprise. Though he misses just slightly, he still glares at the fluffy, white-haired boy who shrugs and says, “you didn’t hit yourself though. Isn’t that proof of your forging prowess?” Yingxing would be flattered…but this is Jing Yuan who’s complimenting him, which is like being mocked more than anything else.

“That was luck you brat,” Yingxing snorts, paying closer attention to his work this time when he examines the metal. Deciding that he was going to ignore that unruly child for real this time. 

Jing Yuan watches him for a minute, nose scrunching up as he scrutinises Yingxing’s work. He doesn’t know the first thing about forging but that won’t stop him from running his mouth just to annoy the middle-aged man whenever he can. It’s fun, and gives him a lot more pleasure than studying scrolls. He’s already trying to think of a way to annoy Yingxing, he just needs a starting point…

“Sooo,” Jing Yuan begins, and Yingxing actually stops looking at his work to fix him with a deadpan stare, “I don’t want to hear it, Shi-di,” he grumbles, his frown only deepening when Jing Yuan’s cheeky amber eyes begin to sparkle with mischief. 

It’s not a look he minds seeing on most kids’ faces, but coming from Jing Yuan, who is a master schemer of pranks, it feels horrid. Like adding insult to injury. And as the victim of many of Jing Yuan and Baiheng pranks, or aeon-forbid a prank they’ve both planned, Yingxing isn’t keen on entertaining Jing Yuan’s antics. 

Well, he tolerates them anyway, because Jingliu will very sincerely murder him if anything happens to this irritating, fluffy ball of sunshine. Or at least, that’s what Yingxing tells himself, especially because he’s totally never ended up laughing over Jing Yuan’s antics before. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jing Yuan insists, the prolonged silence not enough to disturb his conviction. 

Yingxing blinks once, then, out of impulse, says, “answer mine first.” 

“That’s not how that works!” Jing Yuan exclaims, and Yingxing swears that he sees Jing Yuan’s hair become two times fluffier than it usually is when the boy puffs up in agitation. He almost wants to laugh but keeps the amusement tucked behind his lips, where it threatens to bubble over anyways. 

“I’m older, so you should respect your elders. Answer my question first.” Yingxing says, waiting for Jing Yuan to rise to his provocations. 

Obviously the bait is taken. Especially because Jing Yuan looks indignant, like he’s about to pull out his sword and poke one of Yingxing’s eyeballs out. With how Yingxing is taunting him, it might actually happen. 

“Hmph, fine.” Jing Yuan relents, crossing his arms over his chest like the petulant child that he is, “I’m just curious, I mean, surely you’d have a type right?” 

Yingxing feels a vein pop in his temple, “well definitely not a loud person then,” he says, it’s intended to be a direct hint to Jing Yuan, one that the child doesn’t pick up on. With Jing Yuan’s smarts it definitely wasn’t out of ignorance for the sarcastic quip. 

“And?” Jing Yuan says, attentively listening with a rapture that Yingxing wishes he could show in a time that wasn’t now. 

“What else?”

Jing Yuan looks at him incredulously, like he’s grown two heads, “there has to be more! An old man like you has got to have some kind of idea of their ideal partner or something!” 

“I– Did you just call me an old man?” Yingxing demands, picking up a prototype sword and pointing it at Jing Yuan threateningly. 

“So what if I did? I bet you like mature old ladies too!” Jing Yuan taunts, “old hags for the ancient old grandpa,” he tries to chant, though failing miserably because of the lack of rhyme. 

Yingxing hits Jing Yuan on the head with the flat side of his blade, “this is why you don’t slack off in your studies, young one,” he chides, “and my type aren’t old hags,” he says, putting extra emphasis on the last part. 

“So you do have a type!” Jing Yuan crones, eyes lighting up excitedly. 

Yingxing rolls his eyes, “everyone has their own preferences, it’s natural.” 

“That’s why you should tell me!” Suddenly Jing Yuan gasps, and Yingxing feels his stomach fall to the floor, “you aren’t ashamed of your type…are you?” 

Yingxing’s brow twitches, “am not,” he says shortly.

“Are you sure?” Jing Yuan’s eyebrows disappear into his snowy white fringe with obvious suspicion. 

“One hundred percent,” Yingxing deadpans, fixing the boy with a flat, unimpressed look. 

“So–” Jing Yuan begins, “no you’ve already used up your questions for the day. Shoo,” Yingxing interrupts, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Aw, at least spar with me,” Jing Yuan whines, “I’m so lonely,” he adds, like it will help his case. 

“Go bother Baiheng or Dan Feng,” Yingxing says, “I’m busy.” 

“You’re on a first name basis with Dan Feng?!” Jing Yuan exclaims, his round eyes betraying his surprise, “Aeons I thought you hated each other!” 

Yingxing smiles enigmatically, in the exact way that he knows will annoy Jing Yuan the most, “that’s why you pay attention kiddo.” 

Jing Yuan puffs up his cheeks. Yingxing takes a certain kind of pleasure in riling him up, and simply laughs, patting Jing Yuan’s shoulder in the most aggravating way he can. Before Yingxing can return to his work though, the child is immediately bouncing over to him, “can you spar with me?” 

“Why?” 

“You know, because…hey! Stop bullying me!” Jing Yuan exclaims when Yingxing turns away when he’s midway through his sentence and begins to polish a sword absently. 

“Mhm,” Yingxing says noncommittally, dodging Jing Yuan’s punch when the boy aims for his stomach, judging by the way Jing Yuan maintains his balance, his close combat must have improved once again. Yingxing has half a mind to ask Jingliu to stop training him so hard before Jing Yuan can outfight a whole Cloud Knight Squadron…not that he isn’t already a child prodigy.

“Come on, shi-xiong,” Jing Yuan pleads, finally managing to land a blow on Yingxing who laughs and parries the next one away with one hand. It’s utterly infuriating. 

Yingxing relents a little, “okay, but only if you say the magic word,” he says persuasively, in the way that adults would speak to a very young child. Apparently some call it parent-ese, a strange term but not illogical. 

Jing Yuan pouts, “why? Stop treating me like a child!” 

“You are one though.” Yingxing retorts, dodging the rain of punches that Jing Yuan tries to hit him with through fits of laughter. 

“Hmph.”

“I’ll only spar with you if you say it. C’mon, what’s the magic word?” 

“...”

Yingxing waits patiently, watching as the gears turn in Jing Yuan’s head as he comes up with and discards answers. He doesn’t know why it’s taking that silly boy so long, it’s only one word. Yingxing smiles to himself, maybe even a genius prodigy child finds some things challenging. Either way, he does not lack time, he is more than willing to wait. 

“...Please…”

Yingxing smiles, he’s already satisfied, but wonders how far he can push the boundaries, “please what?” 

“Please…spar with me, shi-xiong…” Jing Yuan says, with the affected air of reluctance, each word is dragged out of him like a gun is being held to his head. 

YIngxing relents, brushing his hands and removing his apron, “alright, shi-di.” He pats Jing Yuan’s head and watches fondly when the child immediately jumps up and rushes out the doors. He follows behind, as damage control, making sure to apologise to the disgruntled craftsmen who frown at the boy’s back.

When they finish sparring, the sky has darkened, the sun has long set beyond their horizons. Yingxing stops for a minute to admire the sky then continues walking, Jing Yuan is sleeping on his shoulder. He steps into the Cloud Knight dorms where most of the soldiers are already sleeping. The night has only just begun, but the boy in his arms sleeps as though dead to the world. 

The cool wind of the night blows across Yingxing’s cheeks, he makes sure the boy in his arms is covered before he opens a door. 

“I…” the boy mumbles, Yingxing pauses briefly to listen to the child, a tickle of fluffy white hair brushing across his cheek when his head turns.  

“I’ve finally won…” Jing Yuan says, still seized by the dream world where defeat does not exist and goodbyes are not endings. 

Yingxing smiles, compared to everyone else, Jingliu who is already the strongest, Baiheng who commands the astral seas, Dan Feng who is the High Elder of the Vidyadhara and Yingxing himself, this boy has been trying to improve himself everyday. A sun might have already set, and its warmth long lost from the Luofu, but here in his arms, is the sun. The only one the High-Cloud recognises.

He sets the boy down on his bed and lets himself be dragged down too when the boy’s grip does not falter. He waits patiently, for those unrelenting hands to loosen. Lying in the darkness, he pats the boy’s back comfortingly. 

"You will soon be better than everyone, and that will be only the beginning..." He says softly, Jing Yuan rests against his chest, one breath away from snoring. He might be annoying, might be a nosy little brat who doesn’t keep his attitude in check and is impulsive at the worst of times, but watching him now, Yingxing is content. 

Happy that he has such a shi-di. Maybe, he’ll even let Jing Yuan drool on him, just for tonight. 

The moon rises, peeks in through the window and leaves with a satisfied smile. When the sun rises again in the new morning, Jingliu stops at the door and beckons to someone, Baiheng smiles indulgently at them and hides Jingliu’s sword behind her so that the martial artist won’t raise it to hit the slumbering duo. Even Dan Feng lets a rare smile slip through his icy facade when he sees them. 

And neither Yingxing nor Jing Yuan are any wiser when they wake up.

[bitternace]

for the spotify thing 40 and. would you be mad at me if I said zexion again

you can do whatever u want forever!!

—and i can see myself reflected in your eyes

[ID: a digital drawing of a stylized green eye, reflecting zexion, from kingdom hearts. the image has a blue tint and is lightly rendered. the eye stands in the middle of the image, showing skin and a grey eyebrow where the background isn't transparent, cut off in angular sections around the eye. In the middle of the pupilless eye, is zexion, looking back over his shoulder, with one hand against a wall. a diagonal highlight falls over some of his disheveled hair, face and shoulder, where the lineart is a light purple. his mouth is slightly open, expression lightly upset. his hair is mostly away from his face and the eye that doesn't have light falling over it has a white pupil. /End ID.]