#im soft for them PLEASE

[nohr-selphias]

"I love you, Zevran. I hope you know that."

"Yes... Yes, I know that."

— commission art by @sinizade, posted with permission

[royaltea000]

11/6 of hetalia characters I’ve never drawn before - I’m done!!

[gunsatthaphan]

"you're addicted to me."

[screechingfromthevoid]

You know what I love about the kiss? How fucking joyful it was. It was so light and so happy and so freeing.

The confession was so heavy and came at the last possible moment. Dorian was in his lower register, careful and eloquent. Orym had folded in on himself, shy and quiet. They have the weight of the world in their shoulders and they just needed a moment alone together. To say I love you. To let the other know. It all hinged on the moment before there was no going back.

But this. The kiss. It was after laughter and wedding planning and appreciating little things like lavender honey. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was feeling good. For whatever reason it didn't feel hopeless then. In that moment futures existed. Tomorrows existed. And Orym had one. Orym had a future and a tomorrow in Dorian.

Orym was so moved by all the happiness in the air that he confidently took Dorian by the hand to bring him out to the hall, told, then asked, him he was going to kiss him. All of Orym's fears melt away for ten whole seconds. Dorian stuttered and fumbled his words and kissed him back.

It was so cute. It was so joyous.

You know what it reminds me of? The stolen century. After Lup and Barry fall in love over years and years and they play this beautiful duet together. They lock eyes and smile at each other and steal away, running up the valley, away from it all. That moment of holding each other and just keep on not letting go.

The unrelenting giddiness of it all. The excitement. The glee. The promise of future. Wanting a future. Especially if it's together.

[rikugans]

first meeting.

[just-null]

Wowie rly digging the yandere clone headcanons… how would each react if their darling tried to run away from them?!

You said tried so I assume this was a failed attempt!

Short answer: they get really upset and try making it your fault (shocker.) Ain't no way any of these mfs think they're the problem. Good news! you're mostly unharmed and alive.

This will just be purely writing bc i mostly had thoughts! sorry no drawing this time!!

[cw! mentions of potential harm to reader (no actual harm done), manipulation, toxic relationship dynamics (yandere flavor), obsessive behavior]

Sekido

You're always being hunted the moment the sun comes down and you don't return home in time. Reasons like that are exactly why he hates it when you part from him. 

This time is different.. he can't find you in your usual spots. There's no fucking way, right?

How could you.. No, how DARE you? Do you think that he's some joke? That his feelings for you are something that you can run away from like it's nothing? 

The second he's sure the sun won't harm him, he's already white knuckling his khakkhara, swinging at anything and everything in his path until he gets to you.

They know how to sense if you're near or not, hell, they probably know how your specific blood type smells like. 

Did you think cuddling up to you and memorizing every detail about you was for nothing? Don't be stupid. All he needs is a trace of you and he's gone in the blink of an eye.

You better enjoy running while you can because when he catches you, and he will, those legs of yours won't have much use after he's done with them. 

Sekido doesn't WANT to do this, but you honestly give him no choice. After he trusted you enough to stop looking over his shoulder, you do this? How can he ever put any faith in you again!?

On the bright(?) side, Sekido's rage wouldn't be solely on you, it'll ricochet onto everyone, especially the other clones and himself. 

They were supposed to be looking after you! But they can't do anything right, even a task as simple as this. 

And why did he think it was a good idea to trust them with something of big importance when all they do is fuck everything up!? Everyone's idiocy is rubbing off on him!

The entire time on his search for you, he's cursing and wanting to crush anything he can get his hands on, especially your bones. 

He doesn't even bother with speaking to the others, too busy spewing out all sorts of hurtful and frustrated comments about everything. 

The brutal thought that you’d rather run away than be with him isn't one he wants to entertain, but it's echoing in his head.

At least, once the other clones get there, Karaku and Aizetsu brawl with Sekido so you're unharmed while Urogi carries you overhead. 

Sekido's jealousy flares up when he sees you in Urogi's arms, making him even more pissed if that's even possible. Great, now he looks like the bad guy and the other three, the saviors. Fucking perfect.

There's a lot of yelling and a lot of blood, especially with Urogi making things so much more annoyingly difficult in the air. Karaku and Aizetsu aren't helping. Why is Sekido suddenly the problem?! You ran away!! 

But when he calms down enough, he's cursing at everyone through clenched teeth. Sometimes trying to convince the others that you don't even need your legs anyway!!

Once you get back home (or temporary prison until you somehow regain favor), Sekido will eye your legs while gripping his staff from time to time. 

Exactly why he's forbidden to be in a room alone with you for a while until he settles down..

He glares at you more often and grows colder than before. Arguments are more common where he twists your words just to have you talk with him and be angry within reason. 

Any other type of conversation makes him so irrationally upset that the others need to step in so that he doesn't lose his temper again.

Karaku

The calmest out of the group. He brushes it off as “you're playing hard to get” again, and if he makes a ruckus, you'll scamper back and beg him to stop like always!

Then it gets darker out.. and when Sekido left, he seemed pretty pissed. Like more than usual..... shit.

Karaku sprints after Sekido when it clicks that he's found you. His mind starts reeling, unsure whether he should laugh at the absurdity of your decisions or get pissed off because you didn't even bother to give a hint! 

Not like that would do anything aside from give you away but regardless!

Everyone needs to relax, this is obviously something they can sweep under the rug. This isn't that big of a deal and you're just having a fit, but things like these can get you hurt, y'know? 

They're fun and all, sure, just maybe give him a heads up next time, yeah? Sekido can't take a joke, you know this!!! Still.. There's a way Karaku can work with this.

He'll be able to swoop in, save you, be your hero, and remind you why staying with him is kinda important. Just in case you forgot~ 

You don't wanna be out and about without his charming grin and protective hold would you? Don't answer that right now, he has a feeling you'll say something wrong!

Yet.. what if you need a firmer hand to remind you of what Karaku provides? What if you got a little too comfortable being protected so you thought you'd be alright leaving them? Man, who knew you could be spoiled!

Because of this, he would purposely fumble, letting Sekido get near you just so he can stop him at the perfect moment. He purposely gets hit too and makes sure some blood gets near you. To remind you how that could've been yours.

When Sekido calms down, Karaku laughs in your face and would pinch your cheeks if you weren't up in the air with Urogi on the way home.

You should've seen your face! It was really cute~! Maybe getting scared is your thing? He'll note that for later.

He offhandedly advises you not to do things like that all the time, fighting Sekido always kinda sucks, but it's not like you actually had a chance of successfully running away so he won't chastise you too much for it. 

That's not his job, and his heart hasn’t pumped that fast in a long time.. not even in a fight! You're so amazing~~

And delusional if you think he's not going to milk this “heroism” thing back there for some extra affection points with you. 

Don't be so mean. he got his head blown off twice and jaw dislocated thrice, not to mention everywhere else on his body. Don't you think those parts of him need some extra loving? more than usual?

There's not that much Karaku can say after that aside from reminiscing like it was a funny story. He's not upset about it, mostly a little miffed you got kinda far without him noticing, but he gets over it. 

The usual routine starts back up for him when you're back home. It's like nothing happened, but he keeps a closer eye on you since everyone's so tense.

Urogi

If you're not home before the sun sets, Urogi's clawing at the walls with stress. He usually accompanies Sekido to go find you, but this time is different. Urogi could just barely tell you were around.. When Sekido bolts, Urogi's flying as fast as he can, trying to find you first. 

You're so far.. you must've gotten kidnapped!!!!!

The stress from before burns into anger, expecting to see someone having their hands on you while you're calling out in vain. How could he let this happen?! Damn sun! 

He darts through the skies even faster imagining it, and when he finally reaches you, you look.. fine? and alone. and looking at him like he's the danger. He's here to save you, dummy..

Urogi falls to his knees, burying his face against your stomach and finally wrapping his arms around you again. Your fists violently hit his head and yank fistfuls of hair back, but it doesn't phase him. 

Your comforting warmth is back, that's all that matters. And god, your smell.. it's almost making him dizzy. He missed you so much.

There's many holes to the story in Urogi's head as to why you're so far from home, but he fills them in with more convoluted delusions. It's just a peaceful reunion right now.. 

That is until Sekido finally arrives and starts swinging his khakkhara way too close to your fragile bones. 

Now he's back in defense mode where he scoops you up and tries flying out of reach. This is so stressful!!! There's lightning everywhere and he keeps having to dodge the multiple staffs thrown his way. 

He shields you with his wings as best he can while trying to stay in the air, so you don't get hurt during Sekido's outburst.

In the skies, it's much clearer to see the hurt behind the haunting glow of Urogi's eyes. Did you care about how he might feel? Did you miss him at all? Did you not feel loved enough? Did someone say something to you? 

As he maneuvers the sky, he holds you as tightly as possible, lightly digging his talons into your skin.

Being without you for a couple hours is agonizing enough on its own. If you HAD left him, abandoned, cold, alone.. he doesn't want to think about it. All that matters is that your kidnappers or liars or whatever influenced you are gone, and you're back safe with them!!! 

You.. you still like him, right? Of course you do, fate wouldn't force your paths together if it wasn't for a reason!

Coming back home is uncomfortably tense, especially with how violently Aizetsu kicked Urogi across the room, nearly through the wall, when he tried to lick your wounds clean. It really hurt! 

When you're patched up, Urogi is ten times as clingy if that's possible. He has his arms looped around you constantly so you can't stray too far, and if his hands are busy, he always has his wings!

As happy as he is that you're back, he can't help but cry into your chest sometimes. Everything is so tense nowadays, he hates it! How could you go and do something like that? Apologize immediately! Or at least hold him too? Doubt creeps in a lot, and your attitude isn't helping.. 

His mood swings are stronger. From sobbing uncontrollably into your clothes to being all smiles and radiating with joy the next just because you said something vaguely decent.

Aizetsu

The demotivation started to creep in the second you left. During the day, Aizetsu sits by the door, wanting to be the first one you properly greet. Sekido and Urogi usually bring you back and he'll be the one in your good graces without lifting a finger. That sounds nice.. 

But as the footsteps fade and the silence lingers, Aizetsu feels miserable the longer he waits... Hold on, silence?

Before he realizes what's happening, he's already dashing to where the familiar commotion is coming from. Dread sets in as his legs take him as fast as they can whilst being the slowest of the four. This doesn't feel like they're rushing over to you after a long day, it feels.. dangerous?

What did you get yourself into..? Why do you insist on going to places Aizetsu can't follow? Are you safe? He hates not knowing.

Usually you're the one who's fine. You deal with four demons almost daily! Please please please be okay. He can't fathom it if you were hurt. 

When he gets there, the puzzle pieces fall into place and Aizetsu gets even more depressed, but at least you're not hurt. Well, not if he interferes. His movements are sluggish, a perpetual frown plastered on his face as he tries holding Sekido down. 

Aizetsu wants to dissolve into the floor, and he does sometimes. Not wanting to fight Sekido off anymore, he slumps over. 

This could've been a regular day where you came home.. Are you serious? Leaving? How pitiful could you be to actually think you could get away? Or was it that you wanted to play some sick joke on them? Well, it's not very funny... It's terrible actually.

Aizetsu stays silent on the way home, walking with a bit more energy knowing you're near despite his heart ache.

You can feel the harrowing disappointment radiating off of him the moment you all go back home.

He's tired, annoyed, and so unbelievably upset. Aizetsu grimaced when Urogi got near your scratches with his tongue, so he “politely” ushered him away. 

Knowing a human's weak points is good in battle, but he started trying to learn how to heal them, specifically because he knew these types of things might happen.

As he cleans your scratches, he's actively scolding you for leaving in a cold emotionless tone. And by scolding, he's using manipulative language, trying to make you guilty for everything you did. 

He barely has the energy to live, but now that he finally found his light in the darkness, you want to leave? Is it so wrong he wants to hold onto what makes him even a smidgen happier than usual? He reminds you that he'll wither away without you, but he's not really too keen on dying just yet.

When he tries to get back into a routine, he just can't. He knows why you left, but he doesn't want to hear it. Even if you're sweet to him or not, he'll hold you from behind when you rest.

Looking at you is too much, but being away from you is even worse. Aizetsu compromises this way, but gets quieter, occasionally sniffling when he hides his face behind you.

There's too much going on and he's so tired.. If it weren't for the others, he probably would've held you so tight for so long so that you both would perish together.

Maybe that’s why he's only allowed to hold you when you're asleep. Just please don't do that again.. He NEEDS you. Please, please, please.

Safe to say you gave them a scare. When they double down on the protectiveness, living is ten times more difficult for EVERYBODY. when you lose their trust, it's pretty difficult to gain it back, but not impossible!!

Sekido and Urogi will always assume the worst if you're gone for too long while Karaku and Aizetsu give you a little more freedom until the others drag them along into their worries.

[dendroaspis-viridis]

I'm begging you, BioWare... Learn from the mistakes of Baldur's Gates past...

[clairedaring]

You know... Since you disappeared, I prayed everyday… that I could see you again. I didn't want to get you back. But I just wanted a chance to apologize to you. P'Joe, I'm really sorry. I'm sorry about everything.

MY STAND-IN (2024) | 1.12

[inchidentally]

the trying and failing to control the smile spreading wide on his face, the bashful looking down and blushing, the so ahhh yeap yeap when he stumbles over his words... definition of who got you smiling like that bro… but it's two people in Oscar's life who both happen to be petite, British, posh, beautiful, who give him a hard time but also make his days infinitely better, and picky eaters who have him in a tug of war where he can't ever eat fish at work but he can only cook fish at home

x x x x x x x x

[marimeeko]

Thought of Izuku falling from the sky and Katsuki catching him and them clinging to each other as they land/hit the ground.

Izuku starting to process everything and saying that he couldn't save Tomura but he may have reached Tenko? Also btw I think I'm quirkless, now, Kacchan, OFA is gone, I let it go...

Katsuki soothing him in an adrenaline high, breathy way, you did your best, you did your best, you're still a hero Izuku, you're the best GD hero around...

And then as everyone in 1a starts to descend on them in celebration, Katsuki literally fucking growling at them to give Izuku some space and some air, DONT FUCKING CROWD HIM!

And someone (probably Kirishima or Kaminari) complaining that HES THE ONE holding Izuku so desperately as if he'd disappear.

Katsuki telling that person to fuck off and squeezing his grip on Izuku as Izuku clings to him.

Izuku silently sobbing into Katsuki and not being able to tell which emotion the tears are from, because there are just so many.

[xzybkp]

You know what gets me? And kills me just realizing it?

It’s Jack who asks first. Always.

Jack was the one to ask Joke to be his boyfriend. And Jack was the one to ask Joke to marry him.

And why it gets me?

Because, it’s so Jack of him to take everything by the hand. When Ama said Jack loves with all his might, she wasn’t joking.

But this is also shows between the two of them Joke wouldn’t dare do it first. Because, he’s still the person who is afraid of rejection. Sure, he was steadfast in asking for forgiveness, because he was in the wrong. But when it comes to seeking things for himself, like love, Joke’s always been wary. Since he never did always have a positive outcome.

So yes, it’s just right that Jack was the one to propose. And this also proves to Joke, that someone wants him. That someone he loves, loves him back.

[atinycafe]

"hey pretty"

you offer no response, shutting the door behind you as you enter the room. tossing your bag carelessly to the floor, you kneel beside the countless sneakers belonging to san and mingi, scattered haphazardly around the room.

you reach down to untie your air forces, dropping the first shoe onto the ground. the movement catches your boyfriends' attention, but they remain silent, watching you intently.

"bad day?" san asks softly from his spot on the couch, seated next to mingi. their eyes fixate on you, concern etched in their gazes.

"bad day." you mumble in confirmation, proceeding to untie your other black shoe. however, the lace gets snagged, and your fingers fumble clumsily. you pull harder, but instead of loosening, the knot tightens even more. it becomes the breaking point for you.

a sob escapes your lips, and you bury your face in your hands, too weary to do anything else. your body quakes on the floor as tears stream down your face. you want the crying to stop, to take a breath, but you find yourself caught in a strange battle of attempting both and choking in the process.

the crying intensifies, and you feel your nails digging into your eyebrows, a feeble attempt to hide away momentarily. you're tired, utterly exhausted, and all you crave is sleep. yet, with your shoe trapped on your foot, you can't retreat to the solace of your sheets.

taking another shaky breath, you sense a shadow falling across your face, momentarily shielding you from the light. you don't budge from your position, continuing to cry. a cold hand gently rests upon your own, and you flinch softly, caught off guard. the thumb begins to rub tenderly against your skin.

you recognize the touch as san's. he coos softly, coaxing your hands away from your face. initially, you resist, not wanting him to witness the streaked mascara and runny nose. however, he manages to gently coax you out of your shell.

when your eyes meet his, you're met with a gentle gaze, his eyes locked with yours as he squats in front of you. his smile is soft, and the tears flow even harder, his tenderness overwhelming you in this moment. he chuckles softly, bringing his large hands up to wipe away your tears, pinching your cheeks gently.

"my big girl what's wrong mmh?" he croons, his voice filled with affection. "what's got you like this huh my strong girl?" the endearing nicknames tug at your heart, causing you to cry even more.

"awnn, it's okay baby, big girls cry when it gets too hard," he nods understandingly, validating your emotions. you reciprocate with a nod of your own, sniffling. he brings his thumb to your cheekbone.

"i'll go make you hot cocoa, want that?" you nod again, the sobs calming slightly at his soothing whispers.

"your words baby, can you use them for me?" he encourages you softly, and you manage a meek "yes please," stuttering through your soft sobs. he presses a tender kiss to your lips and smiles, placing his hands on his knees as he stands up. it's then that you finally notice mingi's tall figure behind him.

mingi, too, crouches down in front of you, silently taking your foot clad in a shoe into his large hands. he deftly works on untying the shoelace, his long fingers effortlessly undoing the knot you struggled with. once untied, he removes the sneaker from your foot, placing it neatly aside, a stark contrast to his own untidy ones beside the black pair.

he grasps both of your feet and begins tickling them, eliciting tired giggles from you. finally, a smile breaks across his face as he witnesses your own. he pulls you closer, tugging at your legs and sliding his hands beneath your thighs. lifting you effortlessly, the two of you rise to your feet, and you simply rest your head against his solid chest, briefly closing your eyes as he carries you to the couch. the paused episode of "law & order" flickers on the television. he settles down, you still cradled in his arms, and he gently eases you off him so that you're sitting upright. he helps you remove your bomber jacket, tossing it onto the nearby couch. tapping your thigh, he signals for you to stand up so he can remove your denim skirt, but you shake your head.

"please no, wanna stay close to you please," your voice cracks on the second "please," and he sighs.

"okay tiny," his deep voice emerges softly from his lips as he pulls you closer, his forehead gently touching yours. "you've got a fever pretty."

"makes sense, head hurts like a bitch," you close your eyes, inhaling the minty scent that wafts from his laughter.

"san, bring me some ibuprofen," mingi calls out to san, who responds with a sweet "okay!" you flinch at the loud sound, the throbbing in your head intensifying. mingi notices and places his large hands over your ears, the pressure offering some relief. "sorry baby, didn't mean to be loud."

"'s okay princess." he smiles at the cute nickname and kisses your forehead.

he assists you in removing your black turtleneck, and then proceeds to remove his own t-shirt. moving closer, he goes to unclasp your bra, seeking your consent with a fingertip poised on the clasp. you give a soft nod, your eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. he removes your bra, joining it with the rest of your discarded clothes. finally, he pulls you back into his embrace, handling you delicately until your chests align. the coolness of his skin instantly soothes you, and you release a sigh of relief. he snakes his hands around your waist, tracing star patterns along your spine, whispering compliments into your ear.

san returns to the room, placing a large brown mug and two blue translucent pills on the glass table in front of you. he quickly exits but reappears with micellar solution and a handful of cotton pads.

taking a seat beside you, he lifts your face from its place in the crook of mingi's neck, causing you to emit a soft moan of protest. he hushes you gently, his smile radiant as ever. "come on, look at me, pretty. you don't want to sleep with makeup on your face."

he wets a cotton pad with the micellar water and proceeds to cleanse your face with delicate motions, barely perceptible against your skin. then, using a dry pad, he gently removes any lingering traces of the liquid.

"baby too sleepy for the cocoa?" san inquires, running a hand through your hair, his brow furrowing as he detects the dampness on your hairline. not out of disgust, but rather out of worry because the room is too chilly for you to be perspiring. he turns around, stretching to retrieve the folded blanket at the end of the couch, reluctant to leave your side. unfolding it, he covers you, tucking it between mingi's back and the couch, creating a soothing cocoon.

"no, want it" you whine in a broken voice, and both boys smile at your fragile form, finding you irresistibly adorable. "ah, so bossy," san remarks as he takes the cup and pills, inserting one into your mouth before bringing the cup to your plush lips, helping you swallow. he repeats the process with the second pill.

"want another sip baby?" he coos, noting the way you scrunch your nose. he exchanges a glance with mingi, both of them deeply in love with you, their stomachs still fluttering with butterflies even after all these years.

"no, just one marshmallow, please" you request, extending your hand from beneath the blanket to show them your index finger, emphasizing the importance of having only one.

san's smile widens, his blush evident on his face at your endearing plea, while mingi takes your fingers and presses a kiss to them, producing a loud smooching sound that elicits a soft laugh from you.

"say ahh"

masterlist

[aphel1on]

actually i'm not over the new developments in scaramouche's still-unfolding arc from simulanka yet. we are getting to watch him basically in real time gradually unrepress the ability to feel emotions other than hatred, rage, and despair, and slowly get in touch with the softer parts of himself that despite what he may have believed were only ever buried, never lost. this is quite possibly one of the best "Redemption as Recovery, Recovery as Redemption" arcs i have seen play out in media and it drives me crazy that it's in a fucking gacha.

we saw hints of his personal development in the inter-darshan championship such as when he gave tighnari water, and then nahida set him up to make more connections in life when she enrolled him in school. but the amount of progress he shows in simulanka makes me stupid emotional. he could at least argue that nahida sent him to keep an eye on things so he HAD to help tighnari. but no one was watching over his shoulder to make sure he helped the little toy guys! he just did that!! all on his own!! and CERTAINLY no one made him get that invested in mini durin. he saw himself in that funky paper dragon and just got wildly attached wildly fast. the feelings i had when he told mini durin he wanted to be friends, it was like i was a 10-year-old who just discovered the power of friendship trope in a shounen anime for the first time ever or something. it's downright silly how impactful that little display of earnestness was to me.

this is a character that we've seen be suicidal on screen 2-3 times depending on how you count it, and to see him extend such empathy to a creature that reminds him of himself, and how he's started to feel safe enough to express his gentleness and to pass on the same type of kindnesses nahida showed to him at his lowest, just really gets to me in the best way.

...of course, because it is a fucking gacha, a lot of this character development and plot beats are time-gated behind limited-edition events to force you to keep logging on, and will later only be available in people's youtube recordings.

...but still!!

[deoidesign]

Guys you're not gonna believe this. The books are wrong again

At least this time I didn't even get half of them and half of what I did get was damaged...? So I only have another 70 books to deal with... This time they're soft touch......

I've got so many of book 2 it's not even funny

[forwhump]

a/n: ;-; I feel a little silly introducing myself on a writing post but I feel sillier just starting to post my writing w/out any sort of introduction at all, so hi ! I’m Tina ! I’ve semi recently gotten introduced to the whump community because the content I create has been whump the whole time I just didn’t know it & thought I was alone in it !

now that I realize I’m not, I figured I might as well start posting my blurbs somewhere ! I don’t know if it qualifies as conventional whump, but is there such thing as conventional whump ? so what the hell

I put my two favourite oc’s through the horrors so often I have so much whump content w them & it’s just going to waste in my google docs & my notes app ! I’m chronically shy about posting my work online but I figured somebody out there might see this & maybe even like it so what’s the harm in sharing !

if you do see this & maybe even like it, yay ! I’m so glad ! thank you for even reading it <3

tw/cw for aftermath implied rape, mentions of being gutted

Wren has always been beautiful.

Silas had always thought so. Even at Wren’s worst, even when it wasn’t wholly appropriate to think. Silas had thought so since that very first day, since he was dragged into this place clawing and biting, since Wren had looked up at him from his place in the common room and smiled at Silas, sympathetic, as he was dragged into hell.

It was striking, even then, even disoriented and scared and confused. Wren was a bright spot, a glimmer of light in a bland, grey prisonscape. He’s beautiful like no other person Silas has ever seen, beautiful in a way reserved for the sunrise and the moon, so beautiful it actually gives him an eerie, kind of inhuman quality, even now, even still.

Wren has always been beautiful and Wren is beautiful still. But this —

There is nothing beautiful about this.

It’s ugly. It hurts something low in Silas’ chest.

It’s a film strip that’s been double exposed. Wren’s always been beautiful, and so particular about his hair; Wren has fairytale hair. It’s impossibly long, fairytale long, and the colour of snow, kinda, but he’s always so particular about it, he takes such good care of it, something that’s only his, something that belonged to him before this place, something they let him keep, and his hair always shimmers, perfect, iridescent. Silas has always found it kind of hypnotizing. Wren’s always so careful about how he braids it.

His hair is a mess. It had been pulled up into a ponytail with a piece of pink ribbon that’s gotten mostly lost in the tangles of his hair. Loose strands stick to his face, his throat, his waist, the insides of his thighs with tears, spit, sweat, semen, blood. He’s wearing some demeaning little pleated skirt, the same pale pink as the ribbon, and it’s short, it’s so short, and there’s so much visible skin that Silas can see almost every bruise, big and purple and splotchy and broken, like road rash. He can see all the blood tracked down the insides of his bruised thighs. He can see handprints. Tooth prints.

How is this happening? How did it get to this?

“Wren,” he hears himself say.

“Leave me alone.” His voice is the flattest Silas has ever heard it. He doesn’t lift his face from the carpet.

“Wren.” He doesn’t know what he’s gonna say. What can he say? He reaches a hand out, almost instinctive.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Wren —“

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Wren snaps, almost screams, and he finally lifts his head as he flinches away.

Most of the left side of his face is that same broken, road rash bruise. His mouth is swollen. His eyes, from crying. He doesn’t have hickeys, but proper, scabbing bite marks, bruising his jaw and his throat.

So much bruising. So much blood.

Silas knows what to do.

He struggles with that, sometimes.

Wren was allowed to keep his hair; Silas was, as well. It’s all Silas got to keep.

No part of Silas is the same as it was when he got here; no organ, no arterie. Silas isn’t human anymore, Silas is a weapon, but he tries, oh my god, he fuckin’ tries, if nothing else he tries, and he’s getting better, he thinks. He just struggles sometimes with human emotions, with feelings, thoughts, with what to do, what to say.

He knows now, though. What to do.

No part of Silas is really human anymore, but most of him is all still attached. His left leg, however, isn’t, and the replacement he’d been given, as a massive, inhuman superfreak, is heavy and deadly and fuckin’ uncomfortable. It pinches. Silas hates it almost more than anything. Unless he absolutely has to wear it, he gets around in his chair. It’s how he gets back to his room, where, without even a groan of displeasure, he makes quick work of his superfreak prosthetic.

On his own, he stands. Onto his chair, he piles one of his crewnecks, a favourite of Wren’s because of how cartoonishly large it fits him. Silas piles his comforter on top. From Wren’s room, he grabs his hairbrush and a pair of his joggers. Their clothing is the same dull grey as everything else in hell — prison grey, Silas thinks of it.

He limps his chair back to the common room. He folds the sweatshirt and joggers over the back, brush hooked in one hand as he holds open the blanket. “Okay,” he says. “Come.”

Wren’s head is down again. He’s right where they dumped him, a pile on the common room floor. “Leave me alone, Silas.”

Silas frowns. “No,” he says. “Come. I won’t touch.”

Slowly, Wren lifts his head. He blinks up at Silas with huge, wet eyes. “What?” He says, less sharp but a bit more broken. “What are you doing?”

Silas shakes the blanket at him. “Come.”

He isn’t expecting the way Wren’s face crumples, or the way he sobs. Softly, he says, “Wren?”

Wren turns his face away, but when he sobs, he sobs, “Silas.”

Folding the blanket and the brush back onto his chair, Silas limps around it to slowly, awkwardly maneuver himself onto the carpet next to Wren. Within reaching distance, but he’s careful not to touch.

Wren doesn’t lift his face and sobs into the carpet.

Slowly, Silas lies down, on his back next to him. He reaches out, he doesn’t touch, but he invites, and without looking at him Wren shifts into his arms and sobs into Silas’ shoulder.

Silas covers his back with a massive, gentle hand and lets him cry.

He cries for a long time.

Eventually, his sobs soften to sniffles and the hitching of his back slows under Silas’ hand. He says, into Silas’ grey sweatshirt, “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Why?” Silas asks.

Wren’s chest hitches. His voice cracks when he says, “I’m disgusting.”

He frowns. “You’re not disgusting.”

Wren hiccups out a sob.

“Wren,” Silas says, “you’ve held my organs inside my body for me. This is nothing.”

He sobs again.

Silas thumbs slowly across his back, over the stiff, ripped material of his shirt. “Let me take care of you this time, Wren,” he says. “Please.”

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me,” he says softly.

“I don’t,” Silas says. “I want to.”

Wren’s small fist curls into Silas’ crewneck. Into his chest, he whispers, “they really hurt me, Silas.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Silas promises. He already knows how he’ll do it. It won’t be slow but it will be painful. “Let me take care of you first.”

Wren doesn’t answer him, but he nods into Silas’ shoulder.

Softly, Silas asks, “can I pick you up?”

He nods again.

Gratefully, gently, Silas lifts Wren into his arms and from there, into his chair. He pulls the grey blanket around his shoulders and Wren sinks into it gratefully.

The bathroom is cold, and the water doesn’t get hot, but it gets warm, so Silas runs it warm before he limps across the bathroom to gather an armful of towels. He held Wren to his feet, and leaves the towels in his place.

“You don’t have to do this,” Wren says softly.

“So?” Silas says.

He blinks up at him, a bit taken aback.

Supporting most of Wren’s weight, Silas says, “do you want my help getting undressed or do you want me not to touch you?”

Wren blinks up at him again, sniffling. “Would you help me?” He asks, so soft he’d barely spoken.

“I’ll do anything you ask me to,” Silas answers.

Wren makes a soft sound, and Silas is careful not to touch any of the bruises as he bumbles through small buttons and zippers with huge hands. He helps Wren out of his ruined skirt and into the lukewarm water. Silas doesn’t undress, but he follows him in, letting Wren lean hard against him as he lathers a washcloth he hands to him before getting to work untangling his hair.

It’s a careful few hours of effort, because Wren has so much hair and it’s so matted, caked with blood, grime, semen.

Silas is meticulous. He brushes it out. Washes it. He isn’t a great braider yet, but June had been teaching him the basics, and he can struggle his way through a sloppy French braid. He tugs the elastic out of his own hair to tie it off, and once he’s done, Wren turns to look up at him and he’s crying again.

“Wren?” He says.

And Wren surges forward, pushing his face into the hollow of Silas’ sternum, arms tight around his waist.

“Thank you,” he whispers into his wet sweatshirt.

Silas cradles the back of his head with one hand. “It’s okay,” he says.

In truth, he would die for Wren in a heartbeat. This is nothing.

[mudandmire]

Slice of Life

Azris Week - Day Five: Slice of Life

~~~ In penance for the angst of day four, I give you day five, fluff extraordinaire, as a gift. This is just another part of my #giveerisababy2024 campaign - I'm looking at you, Azriel. As always, enjoy!! :D ~~~

Starlight

The room is stunning—the door opening straight into the open, wood floor and slipping seamlessly right into the double doors leading to a small, fenced balcony, looks out into the ocean. The glinting, silvery tossed waves crashing against the white limestone that carves the curve of the coastline. Eris has one hand holding Azriel’s bag, another, smaller one slung across his shoulders. His free hand is taken up by a much littler one; round, pudgy fingers and a deceptively tight grip.

Before it releases entirely.

“Ah!” Mina shouts, padding forward like a runaway cart with no brakes toward the open doors. “O-ten!”

Eris drops every bag—the front door still swung wide open as he hurries after her. “Mina—Mina wait for daddy, please.” He says, catching up to her quickly, but she pauses anyway, her small wings fluttering.

“O-ten,” she whispers, one hand pointing out the double doors and it’s clear, arched windows and out to the water below.

Eris crouches low, holding her lightly at her side. “Yes, I know. But we can’t go to the ocean there, little dove.” His thumb rubs soothing circles on her stomach, and with the other he snaps his fingers and the doors close with a click. He gazes at the side of her face as the sea breeze brushes gently through her dark curled hair, like it’s welcoming her. Saying hello.

Mina continues to watch the view outside, her attention fixed as a spell with her wide, dark eyes taking in everything it possibly can. One of her hands fisted at her mouth.

Eris watches her—astounded, in awe, completely, utterly in love for the second time in his life.

There’s a patch of sunlight shining on the rug in front of the doors, Mina toddles over to it and sits with a thump. Her back to the sunlight, wings shining golden, each spiderwebbing vein burnished blue and red lit up from the inside. They shudder gently, stretching out just a little to bask in the warmth.

Eris uses the time Mina spends on the soft rug with her toy lamb to pick up the bags he had dropped in the front door, and settle them in the main bedroom. Briefly, he’s taken in by the stretch of blue ocean, the green capped white cliffs that appear to cut through it. It has it’s own two doors that don’t have a balcony, more like a metal beam a foots-width and the same iron fencing.

“Mina,” he calls out, poking his head through the door and seeing her little face turn up at her name. “Come here, dove.”

She does so, standing up on wobbly knees Mina walks over with those stiff steps children take—like they haven’t quite learned what their knees are for.

Her little green dress flutters when Eris scoops her up, a happy squeal lifting from her upturned lips and he holds her close.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” She laughs into his neck.

Eris melts. “That’s me, darling.”

He moves in front of the bed, with it’s pristine white sheets and soft, down pillows. The heat of the day has seeped into the room, like bathing in liquid sunlight, and Eris pats himself on the back for thinking ahead making sure they all wear something light and breathable for the Summer Court.

Mina lays her head on his chest, the soft, dark curls of her hair brushing against his chin. Eris relents against the impulse to bury his nose in the top of her sun warmed head and inhale—Stars, she even smells like sunlight. Everything warm and precious in this world has blessed her and her little head. He hides a smitten smile in her hair and perks up when she says, “where?”

“Where, what?” He asks, following her gaze to the ocean far below them.

Her feet kick out slightly, like if she moves more the words will come to her quicker. “Where o’ten?” She begins to wiggle, fidgety, and Eris glances over his shoulder to the lovely, comfortable bed. He toes off his boots.

“Well,” he says as he lays down with her on his chest, grunting softly as she squirms away to sit up next to him. “I believe the ocean is right there.” He points out the open doors, the white linen curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“Where’s go?” She wonders, her fingers fiddling with her stuffed lamb.

“Hm,” he hums, brow furrowing. “I think it goes out to Hybern, little dove. But it also goes around the whole of Prythian, way up to the Night Court.”

Mina brightens. “Nana!” She has her hands on Eris’s stomach and bounces along with the mattress.

Eris coasts a finger down the round slope of her cheek. “Mhm, nana’s there, but so is Zeb.”

“Beb.”

“Exactly.”

Eris hears the front door open, footsteps loud and tired walking in on the wooden floors. He tenses slightly, amber eyes flickering over to the door to the main bedroom until the faint scent of cedar greets him like a balm. He sinks back into the comforter with a sigh, watching Mina put the pieces together herself of who’s here.

Azriel stands in the doorway, a tired smile on his face. Mina shouts, loud and excited at the sight of him. Eris can’t help but agree with the sentiment, seeing Azriel with his dark, hazel eyes, lightening like sunrise when his gaze lands on the two of them.

The tension in his shoulders seem to melt away—whatever complication he was dealing with out front with the owner of the house seems to have dissipated by the time he’s next to the bed.

“Ada!” Her little hands grab at air, and then settle on his face when he leans down, palms flat on the bed.

Azriel’s features go molten, every harsh line of him softening along with the slump of his wings as he stares down at Mina. “Hello, little kokhavim.” He brushes their noses together gently, a fond form of greeting for parents and their children in Illyria—something he never had, never was given. He relishes in letting Mina clumsily bump their noses as she shakes her head around.

Eris laughs, eyes crinkled.

“Ada, ada—o-ten!” Mina says, wonder in her dark eyes when she points to the view out the doors.

“I see, I see it. We’ll go visit it soon, dove.”

Azriel toes off his own boots, sighing as he crawls over the plush quilts and comforters on the bed to flop down against the pillows. Mina stays in between them, guarded by the landmasses they make beside her. Her own little island, surrounded by the raging, protective sea.

Eris skates a hand along Azriel’s forearm, the sleeve of his shirt having been rolled up at some point. “Did you get everything with the owner settled?” He asks quietly, keen eyes watching how his lips press into a frown.

“I did, the ba—” he cuts off, glancing to Mina who seems entirely taken with a hung and framed painting on the wall above the bed.

“He wasn’t very nice. The paper work was ridiculous—I know for a fact we told him we had Mina with us—but it was just another add-on to his list of negatives. Don’t do this, don’t do that, keep the noise down, whatever.” He sighs heavily, elbow sinking into the mattress where he keeps his head up.

“Mm,” Eris hums, the back of his fingers brushing against the skin of his chest, the dip of his collarbone. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah?” Azriel’s grin is crooked, taking Eris’s wandering hand and planting small, featherlight kisses on each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

It’s a little thing, looking at Azriel. The strong line of his nose and jaw, the curve of his smile, the one dimple in his cheek, and the glow of his eyes with their sooty lashes. Every part of him masterfully crafted, every part wholly Eris’s.

Azriel’s smile softens like he knows what Eris is thinking.

Mina squeals, and it breaks their attention.

“Sa-baa! Sa-baa, daddy, sa-baa!” She babbles, over and over, bouncing excitedly on her bottom, her wings following the movement.

Azriel glances at Eris, confusion written in the features of his face. Eris shrugs back.

“What do you mean, love? What’s sa-baa?” He asks softly, hand flat on her back below her wings to steady her.

Azriel looks around, trying to figure out what could have inspired this sudden burst of nonsense.

“Sa-baa, daddy!” Mina giggles, shaking her lamb toy around.

“Yes, I know, dove, but I don’t know what that means.” Eris says, trying to hold in his laugh. He never realized how funny children could be when he was growing up. Humor was all but crushed out of each of his siblings, including him, one careless, callous comment at a time.

It was only the presence of Azriel, and now their little starlight, Mina, who had brought it back like bouquets of flowers in spring.

Mina keeps repeating herself, a soothing chant of ‘sa-baa, sa-baa,’ as she keeps her fist in her mouth, drooling around it.

Azriel makes a noise in the back of his throat—a caught laugh. “You mean Sasha, kokhavim?”

“Sa-baa!” Mina screeches, flinging her lamb toy around.

Eris lays his head back on the pillows, chuckling softly. His gaze finds Azriel’s, almost upside-down at this point, and he points to the painting above the bed.

“There’s a black lamb.”

“Oh for the love—Sahsa, right, got it.”

“Ada, sa-baa.” Mina whispers having crawled over to him when he gestured at the art piece.

“I know, little one. But Sasha’s back at home, safe and sound.” He rubs their noses together gently.

From where he’s laying on his side, contentment like perfect sunlight sweeps over him. He would give anything to freeze this moment, imprint it on his mind like a picture pressed in glass—but he’s okay if it moves on.

He’s more than content to find Azriel’s hand in his when he lays down on his side, facing Eris, the other cradling Mina. In fact, there’s a large part of him that wants it to continue, to see where the rest of his life takes him. Wants to see Mina grow up and learn how to pronounce ‘Sasha’ in her strong, little voice. He wants to grow old with Azriel even though it will take practically their entire life before they start to see signs of mortal aging on each other. Most of all, he wants more of this. There’s no longer the embedded fear of every dawn, not of his life or his health or his sanity. Azriel had helped him dig through his veins and bones, helped him root out every poisonous, destructive belief that was burned into him. And after helped him heal with salves and bandages and soothing, warm touch.

When Mina falls asleep in the slowly sinking patch of sunlight, Azriel squeezes his hand.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Eris’s lips quirk. “Who says I’m thinking?”

Azriel’s hand leaves Mina’s back for a second, tracing the curve of his mouth, the pad of his thumb landing on his bottom lip. “This does,” he says, “you’ve had that soft look on your face the whole time.”

Then he leaves it, lets the silence shroud them with it’s soft blanket of dusk. Mina’s soft, slightly raspy breaths heave and sigh like the ocean tide far below their open window.

Eris sighs. “Did you ever, even once in your life, think you could have this?” He says, and it comes out more vulnerable than he wanted, but Azriel is there anyway—his touch and gentle gaze all searching, all finding him, all cupping the tender aches and bringing them out under starlight.

“Never.” He whispers. “Not once, Eris. But there was a moment with you where I could see it. All of it.”

Eris inhales sharply—even now, the things Azriel says catch his breath. “Me too.” He says softly, barely louder than the crash of the ocean waves.

Azriel smiles, the soft, fond one he reserves specially for him—and now for the little girl asleep on her stomach, clutching her lamb tight, little wings twitching as she dreams. He lays his head down on the pillow, gaze still on Eris who keeps it lovingly.

“Thank the stars.” He says with a smile.

Eris’s eyes squint under the force of his grin. He laughs, breathless and—Ko-kaw’eloi bless him—happy.

“Thank the stars.”

~~///~~///~~///~~

Key:

Kokhavim - 'Starlight'

Short, soft and sweet for today <3. I'm dead serious though I need them to have a baby like I need air to breathe. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, I loved writing this like I've loved writing every prompt. Even though sometimes it's a struggle to get into the vibe, it's still so so fun, I really can't thank @azrisweek enough for this event like it's brought me back to writing - enjoying writing. <3