#i want to talk to yall again

[gascreates]

a new star

[chloesimaginationthings]

YOUR HENRY DESIGN IS EVERYTHING TO ME!!! HE'S SO!!!!!!

IM SO GLAD YALL LIKE HENRY’S DESIGN! 🧡

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: a doodle of old, Commission-era Five lounging in a bathtub with cucumbers over his eyes and a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other. He has several scars, including one that starts at his collarbones and goes all the way down his torso. End ID.]

i missed old five this season so bad. where was he!!! Where was my old man!!! I took it upon myself to answer with "in the bath, chilling" because he deserves it. old five people, you're welcome

[kaeyachi]

Have you all imagined the days where Kaeya would scream in frustration when he tries to create a Khaenri'ahn dish, but the dish just doesn't taste quite right?

How about the helpless feeling he gets when he barely remembers what ingredients go in his homeland's dishes?

And what about the cravings that have never been satisfied since he was a child because his father didn't teach him how to make them?

For an adventurous food lover... perhaps forever losing your nation's food might just be the most painful thing.

[gomzdrawfr]

Evanescence

it's now or never

Prev | Next(?)

also on Ao3 tags: canon divergence, angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence and behaviours, major character death (MCD), mention of MW3 content

38 hours ago...

The tent was quiet, save for the rustling sound of Price working his rifle, clean and clinical, repetitive and comforting as he swiped the cloth across the weapon time and time again. A soldier’s meditation, though tonight it brought little comfort.

Raven sat by the cot, her gaze flicking over the mission dossier for the fifth time, black hair falling in soft waves that she tucked behind her ear with practised, almost annoyed motions. The moonlight filtered through the tent’s fabric and framed her figure, highlighting the tension in her shoulders.

She’d been like this ever since the trip.

Tense, distant, yet always close enough to remind him of the rift between them. 

They were fine, but not fine. They were not arguing, they were not talking much either.

He’d mucked it up, didn’t he? Trying to shield her away only made a huge dent in their relationship. Her silence wasn’t outright anger either, it was worse—calculated distance, the kind you’d use to guard a fragile truce. He would feel her gaze on him, pensive, heavy with thoughts, but the eye contact never lasted long.

Afraid of what she’d find in those blue eyes of his, perhaps.

He’d been wrong to think leaving her on the island was the answer. Wrong to think even suggesting it wouldn’t do damage. He’d only been trying to protect her—his birdie—only to plant a seed of doubt, one that was now growing wild between them.

He hadn’t the faintest clue how to uproot it without tearing them apart in the process.

Feelings. 

Messy things. Unpredictable. Dangerous. 

He’d spent a lifetime building walls between himself and the world. That’s why this—they—were forbidden in the first place. Love was ravenous. It consumed him because he had always been selfish with the things he loved. Tugged at his heart and twisted it into knots he wasn’t trained to untangle. Whispers curled in his mind like a serpent, whispers about a promised future, something soft, something real—things he didn’t have the right to want, much less to keep. 

It was everything John feared. And everything he needed.

Letting Raven in had been a gamble. But then again, it wasn’t like he’d had a choice. The most unexpected encounters soften a man the most, and he’d already carved a place for her in his heart. Trying to push her out now was as fruitless as stopping the moon from orbiting the Earth. 

He’d like to think he’s smart, he is, but sometimes he wished he’s not a dumb fuck when it comes to people he cares.

He sees her place the papers aside. She rubs her cheek, puts down her mask, and turns away, she was so damn composed that it drove him mad sometimes. How she could compartmentalize everything so clearly, yet refuse to bring up what actually mattered? 

Well, the same way he did, he supposed.  

Price had spent years waging wars on battlefields, but this? Fighting his own emotions while trying to mend hers? It felt like wading through quicksand blindfolded. His hands faltered for a moment, the cloth dropping onto the floor. He grumbled as he set his weapon aside, rubbing a hand over his beard as he leaned forward, the creak of his knees cutting through the silence.

I’m not getting any younger, yet here I am, a bloody Captain, tiptoeing around emotions like a lad out of his fucking depth.

Grow a spine, John. You’ve faced worse. Enough of this bollocks. 

Love makes him vulnerable, makes his mind cloudy, makes him think of the person next to him instead of the damn mission. Two of them in a small tent, trying to make sense of something they were never trained for, something that doesn't follow a neat box of objectives and outcomes. 

Price sat up, his heavy footstep thumped softly on the ground as the oil lamp went dark with a twist of his fingers. He moved towards her cot, slow and deliberate, like approaching a wounded cat. 

The cot dipped under his weight as he pressed a knee into it. Instinctively, Raven turned and curled into his side, pressing her face into his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close, planting a small kiss into the black of her hair.

This. These quiet moments were the only time he felt like she truly let him in, when the weight of the day dissolved into silence and the world outside didn’t matter. 

Forget about the mission, the fishing trip, the look on her face when he’d told her he was leaving.

The tension is still there evidently, her breathing steady but shallow, never fully resting. The tension between them didn’t vanish, but it softened here, in each other’s arms.

Price shifted slightly, cradling her close to his chest, careful not to disturb her. Though she doubted she was asleep. She rarely was, not fully, certainly not during these few weeks. Her head rested against his chest, and he felt the faint rhythm of her heartbeat when their chests were pressed together. 

He took a deep inhale, catching the familiar hint of smoke and tobacco from her hair. 

Smoking again.

You’re the one to talk, burning through your boxes like there’s no tomorrow.

When was the last time he smelled that faint lemon shampoo she used to wear? The one that clung to her after long showers, fresh like Summer. Probably before they had to leave it all behind—before Shepherd.

Before one bullet erased everything they’d built together.

He winched internally at the memory, a weight he hadn’t learned to carry properly. That bloke deserved it, but with every fleeting look she gave him, every touch she offered, even with the warmth of her body against his now, they all carried the same unspoken question.

Will you leave me again, John?

It killed him, that doubt.

His hand slipped into her hair, fingers brushing through the strands absentmindedly. He supposed they weren’t completely lost yet, not if she still allowed him to join her in sleep. But time is running out, so will her patience.  

“Tomorrow’s going to be rough,” he mumbled, voice low and gravelly.

I might lose you tomorrow.

Her arms wrapped around his chest tightened briefly before it relaxed, an answer.

Price sighs, placing another kiss on her head, his lips lingered longer than usual.

Can I kiss all your doubts away, love?

Don’t be daft, no time to be soft, got a mission to finish.

Price closed his eyes, squeezing her shoulders softly, rubbing his bearded face onto the side of her neck, smiling at the shiver from her. 

Tomorrow, he promised himself as he drifted into a restless sleep. 

He’d find the right words tomorrow. 

The mission had gone sideways, to no one’s surprise.

A tip-off that was supposed to lead them to their target turned out to be a trap, and they were ambushed. The once quiet jungle was now alive with tension, every corner every sound—rustling leaves, broken twigs, bullets whizzing through the air with commands and screams in all corners. Raven moved like a shadow beside him, precise and silent movement to dispatch the enemies one by one until they were separated.

Price spotted her through the chaos after God knows how long, her back pressed against a tree as gunfire rained down.

And then it happened.

One of the enemies flanked her, she hadn’t seen them. 

His chest twisted with a grief he hadn’t allowed himself to feel as the enemy’s finger curled on the trigger, not for Soap, not for anyone. He wouldn’t let Raven become another name carved into the graveyard of his failures. 

He couldn’t.

Time slowed. Adrenaline surged. Price moved without hesitation, the need to protect her overriding every other thought as he sprinted towards her.

“Raven! Down!” He barked out, tackling her to the ground just as the crack of a rifle echoed through the air. 

Everything else that happened afterwards was a blur, ignoring the white-hot pain ripping through him, Price didn’t falter as he turned his knife on the operator, sinking down into the flesh and slashed. He didn’t stop, couldn’t, not until the enemy was silent, lifeless beneath him.

And then he dropped, the bloody knife slipped from his hand as his strength seeped away through the red, slumping forward as the taste of copper flooded his mouth.

Blood spilled over his lip as he coughed, each breath a struggle.

“Price!”

Raven’s voice was distant at first, her panicked scream barely cutting through the dizzying haze. Her hands were on him, dragging his heavy body away, leaving a trail of red coating the green leaves until they were under some form of cover, her hands pressing into the wound desperately to stop the bleeding. His vision swimming, his hearings muffled.

But somewhere in the confusion, he felt something warm dripping down his cheek.

Raven doesn’t cry, she hated crying, hated the feeling of weakness, a luxury she couldn’t afford in their line of work. But everything from the last trip—the hurt, the misunderstandings, the constant nagging doubt in her mind that refuses to die out, the constant reminder of how fleeting their connection was, how fragile human life—his life—was bubbled to the surface.

The wine glass shattered, splintering into a thousand pieces as the liquid splashed over everything.

Tears pricked at her eyes, spilling over her mask and cheek before she could stop them, each roll of those tears felt like acid. 

Not now not now not now not now not now not now—

“Why are you so desperate to leave me?” the sound of her voice, fractured and raw, the pain in her tone pierced him deeper than the bullet below his abdomen.

“Why…why do you always leave?” Her words spilled out just like her tears did, completely beyond her control as she pressed harder into his wound. The warm blood coated her gloved hands like lava.

Too hot, too much.

His trembling hand reached up to her, brushing against her wet cheek before he coughed again, blood bubbling in his throat. It felt like he was drowning, but he forced the words out.

It’s now or never. 

“Never… in my life… would I want to leave you. Never, Raven…” He swallowed hard, feeling as if he might regurgitate the blood again.

“I just want you safe…”

“Then why?” She demanded, trying desperately to regain any resemblance of composure and control, but it fails and slipped away, just like-

“Why do you keep making me watch you slip away?” 

Price really shouldn’t be laughing, he cracked a pained smile instead. Is this what you think, birdie? Maybe I’m not the only one daft in this relationship.

“Because I can’t…lose you. Not you.” He coughed, the sound wet and strained. 

“I’d rather…it be me….every time.”

Her grip on the nape of his neck tightened as she shook her head furiously. “That’s not your choice to make, John! I’ve told you already—y-you don’t get to decide that for me!”

She heaved, watching his blood on her palm, then back at him, panic and dread coiling around her throat, tightening with each word that felt like a losing game, but she persisted.

It’s now or never.

“I'm not here to watch you destroy yourself trying to save everyone, trying to save me. I’m here because I chose you.” She gripped his neck, forcing him to keep eye contact on her.

“So you damn bloody well choose me too, Jonathan Price.”

John’s eyes widened just a fraction, and for a moment, the chaos around them faded away, leaving only the two of them.

There was no hesitation in his immediate reply. “Always. Over and over…I’ll choose you. I promise.”

Her eyes softened for a fraction before determination hardened her expression. “You better, John. Because I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

She scrambled to her feet, lifting him up despite his weak protests. “You’re not dying on me today, Captain,” she grunted out, her tone brooking no arguments.

He smirked faintly, even if everything hurt.

“Yes, ma’am”. 

Back at their camp, After Price lay bandaged but alive. Raven slumped against the bed beside him, exhaustion etched into her features but her hand never leaving him, resting on his lap, still wearing the bloodied uniform.

Price stirred, brushing a trembling finger against her temple.

“You’re not going anywhere…” he murmured quietly, watching her eyes open slowly.

“Not unless you push me away again…” she replied hoarsely, a gentle warning. 

His jaw tightened as he shook his head. “Never. Not ever again.” 

I’ve made some cock-ups in my time, but none bigger than hurtin’ you. 

I’ll be damned if I let you think for a second more that you don’t matter.

He cupped her cheek, sighing as his thumb brushed her skin. 

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Eira…but losing you won’t be one of them…”

For the first time since they left the island, she smiled, dimples deepening—a real smile, small and slightly crooked, genuine. 

Price couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him. 

“I could bloody murder for a smoke right now…”

“I think you lost them in the middle of the op”

“Bloody hell…” he muttered, shaking his head with half-mocked despair. Raven smirked slightly, stretching out her stiff shoulders.

“We should…go out,” Price said after a moment of silence, reaching out as he fiddled absently with a pale strand of her hair. He wondered briefly if the white strands peeking through the black were dyed or something she’d never mentioned.

There was still a lot between them left unexplored and unresolved. 

“You can’t walk,” She pointed out, patting his bandage gently for emphasis. 

He huffed a quiet laugh. “No, I meant…once I’m patched up, I’ll take you out. Dinner, a trip, whatever you want. We need to talk about this…about us.”

Can’t let another life-and-death situation force out our confessions. Raven tilted her head, a hum of thought escaping her as a flicker of surprise passed through her gaze. “Abusing your sick leave, are you?”

“Not much I can do with a punctured organ,” he deadpanned.

“Touche…” She sighed, not entirely meeting his gaze yet.

“Birdie…”

She clicked her tongue, relenting as she nodded her head. “Alright, alright. Yeah…fine we’ll talk about it and go somewhere I suppose.” 

A wave of contentment settled over him as he leaned back into the pillow, a small smile graced his lips.

I’ll stop being a daft bastard for you, birdie. 

“Where to?” he asked. 

“....fishing?” she offered after a moment, and Price blinked a few times. “...Really?” The corner of his lips twitched slightly in guilt. “I…thought you would’ve resented the idea after…what I did.”

She chuckled quietly, smoothing out her hair.  “Well, we’ll do it my way this time.”

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

yall know that "you're on the edge of the bed, you're bout to fall off" sound that's going round tiktok rn? anyway, that's so drastoria on their wedding night fr

draco is often depicted as very sexual and experienced and dominant in fanfics, especially in dramione. but leik,,, did we read the same fucking books?? 😭 does that look like a man comfortable with being vulnerable and naked with someone??? absolutely NOT, he is blushing and stuttering and on the edge of the bed thank you very much, he does not know what to do with himself.

draco malfoy is a chronic virgin, pass it on

[pettyprocrastination]

Gym Crush!Ghost

when he's on leave? he's at the gym. damn near (if not) everyday.

it's a way for him to sort of dull the noise within his head, honestly. Just putting on a pair of headphones with a long ass playlist and working his body until he's drenched in sweat and enough time has passed that he can go back to his little apartment feeling a bit calmer at night.

and of course to keep up his endurance, muscle, and stamina for when he returns back to the field.

and maybe he feels a bit of macho pride as the physique. the man has earned it afterall.

He isn't somebody that talks much at the gym. The space between each set is full of the music flowing through his headphones and his resting face is enough to keep the more timid members from asking him questions about his routine or physique (this isn't his intention, he will say. his face just looks like that).

But of course. Simon knows what he looks like. He's worked hard for the body he has and is not stranger to gym rats asking about his max benchpress or women asking what he's doing later.

Something he never takes them up on in earnest. He's more than content to find a fling at a local pub that he may visit once in a while but the gym is a regular stop in his routine when not on duty. He lives by the "don't shit where you eat" motto when it comes to entertaining a potential flame.

But part of him was incredibly tempted to break that rule when he began to notice you.

You must be new to the area. Moved here when he was in service because he's never seen you before. You give the desk workers a polite nod and hello as they scan you in before putting your things away in a locker to begin your own workout.

He spares you a quick glance before returning back to the weights in his hand and not giving you another thought for the rest of the day.

Until he sees you tomorrow.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

It's a slow process for Simon. Each time he sees you there's a quick moment where he admires you before returning to himself. Taking note of the lack of a wedding band or perhaps a new shirt your wearing before turning away.

If you happen to catch his glance you offer him a quick smile he'll give you a polite nod of his head but won't go further than that.

If you want to talk to this man you have to be the one to make the first move.

You know that quote about how everybody has silent admirers in the world? yeah that's him.

He won't say anything but he'll keep his eye out for you in gym. Watch your reflection through the mirrored wall as you set up for a new PR.

watching you from afar with a soft mumble of "c'mon, c'mon. you got it" as you push the weight up from your body with a grunt.

Something about seeing the excited smile on your face as you re-re-rack the weight after hitting a new PR makes him want to come back the next day to see you keep pushing yourself.

[dynamitekansai]

THE USOS REUNITE WWE SMACKDOWN (OCTOBER 25, 2024)

[worlds-least-responsible]

//okay so usually i'm not one to comment on the mw fandom and i tend to stay veeerryyy far from discourse because I Don't Like That but the ableism here is insane?? yes i'm looking at you lobotomized jimmy au what the actual fuck .

i'm not one to throw a hissy fit about how people like perceiving characters and interpreting stories but i just saw a post about that earlier and i was horrified honestly. i don't care if it's a joke or whatever, that is nasty and you should definitely get a lesson on history to see what a lobotomy ACTUALLY is and what it does do a person. i'm already icky on the whole jimmy has schizophrenia thing but this is just another level of wild. speaking from someone who is also mentally ill themselves not only is this harmful to people with symptoms like jimmy's but it's also so fucking dehumanizing??

jimmy isn't a bad person because he's mentally ill- jimmy is a bad person because he knowingly engaged in making horrible decisions and Did Not Take Responsibility. he kept digging himself a bigger grave instead of attempting to take change. first it was the curly situation and now this.

[wendigoruble]

I'll need to iron some things out and figure out how I'm gonna do this BUT Franco art/chat stream on Friday (the 13th hah) at 10am EST?

[bumblydumbly]

Already said this but since everybody is too busy on the failmance happening im gonna say it again: Vi starting their confrontation by saying “never thought [my sister] would orphan kids” only to be stopped from killing jinx. By an orphan kid.

[dartalias]

ARCANE S2 SPOILERS

All that talk about destiny and...

Then maybe Powder destiny is to die killing Vender

[domoriu]

tryna gaslight myself into liking my hair after sitting in that chair for almost 8 hours… itll grow on me 🩷 yep 🩷

[dawnbreakerluna]

yes baddies i have seen that reddit post talking about the mistranslations of sylus and the difference in localizations and ive read a lot of interesting things and ill do a deep dive on that some time later this week

[diamondcitydarlin]

you know you can call beetlebabes shippers 'disturbed' and other offensive ableist terms all you want but yall (antis) are the ones obsessively crossposting in our tags with ragebait on a regular fucking basis like you're desperately sending off signal flares to get our attention and also telling us to 'kys'/unalive ourselves in the case of one blog and another that threatened IRL violence against anyone perceived to be a shipper in theaters when the second film came out. Those of you doing this seem to be under the false impression that you're morally superior to us, but I promise you the moment you start threatening physical violence and telling people to unalive themselves bc of fictional characters you instantly secure yourself as a hateful if not obsessive POS and I am genuinely concerned about the safety of others around you. What other shallow prejudices deputize you to enact violence and wish death on people? Are you going to physically assault someone because they're eating a sandwich you don't personally like? OR is this just the 2024 version of early 00's edgelord nonsense? (one of the people I'm talking about also alleges to support Palestine like?? SINCE WHEN DO YOU CARE ABOUT THE WELFARE OF OTHERS??? God forbid a Palestinian person ships Beetlebabes, guess they can just succumb then) Like, we're over here writing fanfics and drawing fanart and making up headcanons and living our best lives and yall are stewing in your filth pits SO BIG MAD THAT PEOPLE DON'T THINK THE SAME WAY YOU DO!! THEY SHOULD DIE ABOUT IT!! And some of yall come in saying all kinds of hateful shit and then cry about getting 'dogpiled' and how mean the beetlebabes shippers are for trying to engage in (frankly imo v diplomatic given how yall act) dialogue with you, as if that's worse than your bros over here threatening physical violence and telling people 'kys' over a fictional fucking ship in intentionally crossposted tags to harass us. Like my god the weaponized tears, cry me a fucking river lol. ('That's victim blaming!!' Is it?? Is it victim blaming if you go into the cheese lovers convention, knowing full-well you don't like cheese, start talking about how cheese sucks and anyone who likes it is 'disturbed' and the con-goers try to start a dialogue with you about it and/or politely tell you to leave?? THAT'S being a victim?? Telling the cheese lovers to unalive themselves or get physically assaulted IRL is totally fine tho, acceptable behavior!)

Once again, we know people don't ship this and think it's gross, despite anyone commenting 'FINALLY SOMEONE SAID IT' on your harassment post you are not the first person to say this, you are not going to change minds, censor your fucking tags bc no one cares but you and the other haters. Also, there is no justification for wishing harm on other people over differences in fictional storytelling preferences, you're just being a bad, hateful, violent person looking for an outlet that should consider some form of therapy before you end up in legal trouble from your edgelord threats and if you think I'm not serious then go ahead, fuck around and find out ig.

Like, just leave it and us alone, there is no reason to act like middle school mean girl bullies. Block it. Blacklist it. You literally don't have to see any of this shit, at this point yall are CHOOSING to because you're more obsessed with your hatred of it and getting the power microdose of harassing and threatening people than you are just enjoying what you do like and imo that's very tragic and should be more concerning to you than it apparently it is.

[iguessitsjustme]

*takes you by the hand as gently as I can*

You can dislike Maya without turning her into a one dimensional villain that serves no purpose to the story.

You can dislike Maya without disparaging the story and message the show is trying to convey.

You can hate Maya without moralizing your hatred. You can just hate her. It’s okay.