#im still writing promise

[bruggle]

Hi

So I know I haven't been working on my main fic.

And I'm sorry. My brain is bad.

But I assure you, it's still on my mind.

Sooooo

Here's this in the meantime

Humans, X has found, are frustrating.

Granted, he's known this from the beginning. He's wrangled with too many politicians trying to talk in circles in order to avoid discussing reploid rights to think otherwise. But this? Brook? Was so much more personal. She's not all bad, of course. Unlike the politicians, none of her frustrating parts are born out of malice for what he is.

Just who he is.

Because she never wanted to come home with him. (And he gets it. He really does.) But she couldn't stay there. X was not going to let her risk being dragged into the Guild; to continue fighting in a war she was far too young for. Heck, he doesn't want her in the war at all. Which is why he pushes so many other hobbies and career paths at her.

Too bad it doesn't work.

Brook refuses all of it.

She won't even try most times. Just say she doesn't have any interest in it, or she she isn't smart enough for it, or something else of that nature. It's often the source of their arguments. X will suggest something, Brook will vehemently deny it, ask why she can't just go shooting with Axl, and...

It escalates.

Every time.

He wonders if he's doing something wrong.

Add in her horrendous mood swings, and that's even worse. X used to think human males were exaggerating just how bad females were during... menstruation. But he has long since learned that they are, in fact, not. Brook is a terror during hers. Not that... he can blame her, exactly. She's had to deal with things a child her age never should have to.

The loss of her parents.

Abuse.

Abandonment.

Starvation.

Not to mention the fact that she ran away to be a mercenary for five months.

It's taken a massive toll on her body. Which, in turn, makes her mood swings worse. So X does his best to weather her storms. She assumes he's going to be exactly like what every other foster parent has been. Giving up on her. Returning her to the orphanage.

He is determined not to be.

Besides, it isn't all bad. Brook has her good moments. And they by far outshine the frustrating parts. X has never once regretted taking her in for Tern. Even with all the arguments.

Which... brings him to today...

"And why the hell not?" Brook exclaimed. X does his best to hold back a sigh. It's the same argument they always have. "Because, Brook, you don't need to be around any more weapons," he explained. "You've been around too many as it is. I'm glad you and Axl get along so well, but you're not going shooting with him." Brook glowers at him. "Okay, but why not?" she seethed. "Have you ever considered that maybe I enjoy it?"

"I'm aware that you do," X assured her. "But it's still not good for you. Not right now." The ruddy haired girl sneers at him. "You're just hoping I get too rusty," Brook accused. "That way, I can't join the Guild when I turn eighteen! That's not your choice, X!" The blue clad reploid can't help but wince. She's... kind of right on the money. He wants her to try other things. Anything other than shooting. Joining the Guild would just... end in her death. One way or another.

Humans are resilient and scrappy.

But they're still so fragile compared to reploids. Douglas made that breakthrough in buster technology so that humans could defend themselves. Not join the war. Although, nobody was all that surprised. He knows a lot of the grievances between the races were due to the forced reliance on reploids. It chaffed on a good number of humans. Especially those in the Western hemisphere, who were so much more independent. With the introduction of free roam busters, as they were called, many of those were put to rest; and the two races were getting closer. It... still wasn't where X would love to see it, but...

It's closer.

"Brook, there is so much more to life than the Guild," said X. "I just want you to try all other avenues before you're eighteen, okay?" The teen scoffs and glares at him. "You think I don't know that?"

"Well, you certainly act as if you don't," he snapped.

X internally winces. He shouldn't have said that. Not... not like that. She's just... so stubborn! And acts like she's not good enough for anything but the Guild! He's trying so hard to change that for her. X knows he's being pushy about it, but... can you blame him? Brook has so much potential. She shouldn't be wasting it in a war.

But Brook looks outraged by that. "What do you want me to act like, then?" she demands.

"I don't want you to act like anything," X tiredly amends. "I just want you to try. Something. Anything. Please." But the ruddy haired teen is already too worked up. He knows better than this. Knows better than to point out her inadequacies. That's... all her former foster parents often did. Not out of malice, but... Brook often overheard them when she was being returned to the orphanage she was staying at.

Why does he keep messing up?

Fatherhood was a lot more difficult than he thought.

X watches after Brook as she stomps off to her room. He's not going to try to fix it. Not right now. Let her cool off, and then he'll speak with her. But for now, there's some work that needs to be done. All the dishes and such are done. X has thankfully found that he doesn't need to get onto her about that, given that she is usually pretty conscientious about the messes she makes. Brook had been out in the wilderness for five months, after all. Kept a very tidy and thoughtful camp.

No, it's his own work for Neo Arcadia that needs to be done.

So he sits down and gets on it.

That is until a notification pops up.

Curious, X opens it and is immediately displeased by what he finds. It's the cellular service that he set up for Brook, and they're informing him that she has just made a long-distance call. She knows she's supposed to ask for that. That was one of the first things he layed down when he got the holophone for her. Not because he's nosy, but so that he can warn them. It's cheaper that way. Not that he necessarily has to watch his spending habits. It's just good practice. Brook is usually pretty good about it, but...

Maybe she's just using it as revenge.

That would need to be nipped in the bud.

So X sighs as he saves the documents on his computer and gets up from his desk. It's one thing to have an argument. Another thing entirely to act out like this. He wracks his brain for a suitable punishment as he makes his way to her room.

Only to pause as he gets closer.

He can hear Brook sobbing. And not the way she normally does. This is... gut wrenching. X slows his pace as he makes his way closer. Yeah, that's... whatever happened on the phone, it wasn't good. The blue clad reploid quietly opens the door, and what he sees just breaks his core.

Brook is curled up on the floor in a ball, her holophone laying on the bed. "Brook...?" X gently calls, only to get a louder sob in response.

Rust.

X carefully makes his way closer to her, watching every bit of her body language. If she tells him to stop, he has to. He wants to gain her full trust, so he has to. He's already steamrolled over so many of her wishes just by taking her in and out of America. But she doesn't. As he gets closer, she just curls tighter into a ball and cries. So, he sits down next to her, making himself as small as possible. He needs to figure out exactly what happened before he goes any further.

"Brook, who did you call?" X asked gently. "And why?" He's not mad that she made an international call, per se. Just... mad that she didn't warn him, at least. Of course, she'd have people she'd want to call in America. That's... where she was born. Raised. Even if she disappeared off the face of the Earth for five months, she'd still have friends she'd want to talk to.

But... the way that she's crying, he doesn't think she called a friend.

Brook shakes her head, burying her face further into her arms. X inwardly sighs; nothing about this girl is easy. Why would it be? "I'm not mad," X assures her. "Just... worried. Something upset you. A lot. I just want to know who and why."

"Why do you care?" comes the muffled reply from the sixteen year old girl.

"I care because you're very obviously upset," X tells her. "And I'd like to help. You know that." Brook doesn't answer him for a minute, seemingly debating on if she wants to tell him or not. That's fine. X knows they're still in a... rocky patch. He's struggling to figure out how to deal with her mood swings. Brook is struggling with boundaries after so long of not having any. He can wait. But finally, after an especially loud sniffle, Brook lifts her head from her arms and studies him. X feels his core break at her expression. He's not... used to such a heartbroken look on the ruddy haired girl's face. "What happened?" X softly coaxes. And that...

Brook's face screws up as more tears fall from her eyes. "I- I called my aunt," she admits, causing X to blink in surprise. Her... aunt? But... "Brook, why did you call her?" he asks. That... didn't make any sense. Brook's aunt treated her horribly. And the teen had stated loudly in the past that she wanted nothing to do with the woman. So why...?

"...She sounds like Mom," Brook sobs.

...Ah.

That... made sense. In the worst way possible. Brook's dealing with homesickness. A lot of change. And two years was barely any time at all. Especially considering that Brook has barely had any time to actually grieve.

Of course she'd want her mother.

And it occurs to X that Brook really doesn't have anything to remind her of her parents. It was all lost when her aunt gave up custody. Frustratingly so. Why the state decided that, just because Brook is a minor, X doesn't understand. But, he also supposes that storage takes money. Money a minor wouldn't have.

No wonder she would turn to her last remaining family member. Even if the woman was... that.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, X slowly wraps an arm around Brook. He's not sure if she will accept his comfort or not, but... he has to try. When the ruddy haired teen doesn't push him away or yell, X gently pulls her closer to him. And is promptly surprised when Brook throws her arms around him, crying into his chest.

X doesn't let the surprise last long; instead, wrapping his arms firmly around her and pulling the teen close. He whispers reassurances to the top of her head as she bawls against him. The reploid doesn't know what Brook's aunt said to her, but he does know it likely wasn't pleasant. Not with the way the poor girl's reacting. He'd love nothing more than to have the woman in front of him so he can give her a peace of his mind.

...But that was neither here, nor there.

And he's far more worried about making sure Brook is okay.

Humans were frustrating, X has found. But they have their reasons to be.

[storm-driver]

Reason ive been so quiet lately btw is because im tryna move out with a friend and it means i have to go to a doctor for a physical before i do so ✌️

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

--------------------

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[samsheughan]

Sam Heughan ↳ Gold Derby | Hublander -> February 27, 2024

[sweetieviktor]

"it's the tradition", feat. viktor.

summary: it's christmas in runeterra and couples are sharing kisses under the mistletoe.

word count: 1.000. (yes! exactly 1k im happy with it :]

content warning: just fluff as always! :DD (written with s1 viktor in mind!!!

author notes: ITS 5AM AND IVE WRITTEN 2 FICS IN A DAY, maybe im going to die but fuck it we ball. love viktor and love xmas, i wish i could use sweaters but in brazil december is sooo hot but yeah, here it is a lil something for the holidays. hope u like it!! :)))

whenever some holiday approaches, piltover academy is adorned in it's colour by students. it's december and the halls are decorated with reds and greens all the way, bringing joy to those who look up and see the fairy lights blinking slowly to them. christmas is coming, and so is winter.

everyone is using their thickest coats, but there's still some people who are cold, even if they are holding hot drinks to warm up both their hands and their body, or if they are rubbing their arms, creating some friction that could maybe help it, or sharing kisses under the mistletoe meticulously placed on the tree near the entrance of the academy, which have all kind of things hanging on it. some letters addressed to santa, little brilliant baubles made in all type of materials you could think of, red bows and colorful lights, all made by it's students.

you wanted to spend your day like this, enjoying over your partner's warmth under the mistletoe. well, life isn't fair. he was already working and you needed to work too, but maybe you could bring him some sweet milk and cookies on your lunch break, right?

so once the clock hitted midday, you walked to the cafeteria, the same one you and viktor got out on your first date, and ordered enough cookies for both of you. the women on the other side of the counter packed them to you, putting the little bag on your right hand, while you carried the cup of sweet milk on the other. finally, you got out, hands full, hoping that you could bring him some of the christmas spirit when leaving those in the lab.

when you made it to the academy again, it was even more crowded than earlier, students going in and out, chatting and joking around, throwing snowballs at each other and playing in the snow. and again, the couples kissing under the mistletoe. and all you could think of was him. oh, how you missed his kisses. so you hurried up, the flashy holiday themed colors in the halls blending together in an indistinguishable blur.

once you reached his lab, you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for an answer. you could feel how your heart thumped against your ribs, maybe it's the nervousness or just because you runned all the way to come here in time. “come in,” was all you could hear from inside.

you turned the door knob, pushing it so you could enter the lab. he was hunched over his desk, but once he looked past his shoulder, realizing you were the one who got in, his golden eyes immediately lighted up, just like the fairy lights, but shined even brighter when he seemed the baked goods you carried, then turning again to his work, “just wait a bit, i will finish this, ehh- hopefully soon.”

you came from behind him, leaving both the bag and the cup over his desk, “i know these are your favorites,” you put your hand on his shoulder, “and it's my break now, but soon i need to get back to work,” his hand stopped, no longer making calculations. he looked up at you, then at the papers in front of him, thinking if he should or not give in.

sighing, he let the pencil over the papers. you knew he would keep working if you didn't say it. “i guess i could give myself a break, then,” the corners of his mouth quirking up while he reached for the bag, opening it and letting the smell of the cookies bathe the place, bringing coziness alongside it. he shoved his hand on the bag, picking one up and biting onto it, humming softly when it melted on his tongue, then bringing the almost half cookie to your lips, only to put away and eat it himself.

he was laughing loudly, keeping a hand over his mouth, to prevent any crumbs from coming out. “you ain't fair,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. you knew he was just joking, but you wanted to eat too, “i brought those so we both could eat. together!”

“i know, i know!”, he said, getting the cup of sweet milk and taking a sip of it, “but it's fun to tease you. can't help it,” he shrugged, looking at your pouty expression turning into one of anger. picking another cookie, he proceeded to feed you first, your frown immediately disappearing. he was trying to not laugh again, but he couldn't contain it, as he did so, soon the frown came back to your face.

“stop making fun of me and let me eat, for jannas's sake,” you also couldn't keep your smile from growing, it was such a good atmosphere that, even if you were mad at him for stealing your cookie and laughing at you, you couldn't be mad for longer than thirty seconds.

you were laughing with him, happy with how your lunch was going, eating and talking, so busy with everything that you didn't see him fidgeting, looking for something inside his jacket pocket. once there was no more food nor milk, he cleaned his hands, bringing one over you both, holding something up. a mistletoe.

you scoffed, running your hand over your face, “really, viktor?”, you were astonished, he truly got one of those just he could have an excuse to kiss you?

“well, it's the tradition, isn't it?”, he grinned, placing his free hand on your waist, bringing you closer, “any person who's under the mistletoe must kiss, it's correct?”

“yes, absolutely correct,” you put both hands on each side of his face, kissing his lips softly, tasting the sugar on his mouth. “but you taste like milk and cookies,” you kissed him again, just to make sure you got it right, “maybe next year i will bring you more of these, so we could kiss under the mistletoe again.”

“oh, christmas may be my favorite holiday now.”

[nordidia]

having a very rough night so raph doodles needed to be made

when in need, mash two interests together

[keyotos]

loved you every single day

summary ⎯ what is love for the xianzhou guys? that's basically it. very sappy and tender and sentimental.

includes ⎯ dan heng, blade, jing yuan

tana's words ⎯ hi...

dan heng

⎯ dan heng had a vague understanding of what love felt like. before the astral express, he never really knew what love really felt like due to memory loss. but he learned, eventually.

⎯ he found love when himiko always offered to make another coffee cup for him (this time, with the blend he enjoys). he found love whenever march/stelle would check on him during the late hours of the night, knowing he'd be buried in books. he found love whenever welt offered to shoulder the burdens of keeping watch during trailblazing missions.

⎯ but he has never felt love like this before. not with you anyway.

⎯ there was a sense of loyalty he had for you. of course, he was obviously also loyal to the crew, but it was different with you.

⎯ you made him want to follow you towards the end of the universe. you made him want to run with you into the light or whatever awaits the both of you later on. he was willing to do all of it.

⎯ why? a lame question to ask, he thinks. there are hundreds of reasons why, and he could list them easily. was your smile and the way it instantly warmed an entire room enough reason? or should he add onto the fact that you were practically made of stardust and cosmic radiance? that you have some kind of miraculous or even transcendental ability to string words so brilliantly that it manages to calm the harshest of voices down?

⎯ and love was scary for dan heng, at first. there were too many hindrances and difficulties in his life. for one, he could not let you get caught up in his past. he wouldn't: he would make sure of it. for two, he wasn't very used to love.

⎯ yeah, there was the express crew. but there was also you. dan heng thought that he would spend the rest of his life alone. he still has not settled into his room on the express because he reasoned that he'd stay until the archives until he was ready to leave. but you challenged all of that.

⎯ how is it that one person could make him want to stay by their side forever? how is it that you have such an enormous effect on him, yet you aren't even aware of it? every wall or barrier he's put up, you've always managed to erode it down. you allowed him to be vulnerable and you allowed him to be carefree. you allowed him to relax. to breathe.

⎯ loving you, was to breathe, for dan heng. you were the gasp of air that he needed while he was drowning beneath the waters. finally being able to decompress and unwind; he felt lighter around you. less stressed, less worried. less stoic. less somber.

⎯ he has never even thought of love like that before he had met you. but you changed him. and he is eternally grateful for that. eternally grateful for you. you are his home, his safe space, his sanctuary of security.

⎯ so he repays you often. he knows what kind of tea you drink and how to make it by heart. he makes a cup for you every morning. you have your own shelf in his archive. hell, you have your own damn space in there as well. there's an indent of you in every corner of every room.

⎯ or maybe, dan heng is so accustomed to you that he sees you in everything.

⎯ he lets you read from his shoulder. he has a shelf filled with all your favorite books from various worlds in his archives. he lets you sleep on his body rather than the flacid mattress on the ground, because he wants to keep you as comfortable as you've kept him. his fingers trace your body every night you stay with him, to ensure that you are safe and you are here, and he is home.

"are you sure you're comfortable like this?" you ask, situated on top of dan heng's body. you're partly afraid that you'll crush him with your entire body weight on him, and that his back would hurt after tonight, "wouldn't it just be smarter to crash in my room instead?"

his chest rises and falls underneath you, getting slower and slower as time goes by, "if you'd like. we can go."

you bite the inside of your lip in thought. it would be safer to do so, for both your and dan heng's safety. but, to be honest, you were very comfortable and tired. "is your back gonna be okay after this?"

"it'll be fine," he brushes off, "besides, you've been sleeping on me for the past few nights now. i can handle one more night."

"huh???"

blade (contains lore spoilers)

⎯ love was something blade has always lived without. as a child, with war and battles as a constant on his homeworld, there wasn't any room for affection or anything similar.

⎯ but then you came along, practically shaking his entire world. there you were, dragging him off to drink god awful mung bean soda. to force him to go outside on days where he was over-occupied with work. to let him enjoy something for once in a while. to let him rub his thumb over yours in the quiet hours of the night, forgetting about work and all other duties.

⎯ he had never thought that loving could be so easy until he met you. it seemed as though time would stop in his tracks whenever he saw you. blade thought it was a myth coming from romance novels (one he had heard from you, ironically enough), but it proved to be, in fact, real.

⎯ and everything was easy. up until everything wasn't. it was one thing, then the other. baiheng passed, jingliu was extremely distraught. it was wearying to see everything go so downhill, so fast. nobody was ever the same after that period.

⎯ yet even after all that, you still had the same look in your eye. you looked at blade the same way you looked at him all those years ago. so much has changed between the both of you, and you know that the both of you would never be able to return to the past.

⎯ though, even after all of that, some things remained the same. for example, the way you never failed to take his breath away. seeing you for the first time in years had him going through a plethora of feelings: distraught, appalled, and slightly less dejected.

⎯ but most importantly, there were still parts of the other's heart still beating for each other. even if you couldn't love him anymore, you still cared about him. you cared about him the same way you did all those years ago.

⎯ you went out of your way to find him. you went out of your way to offer him solace, even if it was for one last time. why? he didn't want to know, he didn't want to ask. he has a mission: he has to pursue it, always. nevertheless, he still found himself underneath the sun's rays, as it managed to follow him wherever, saying, "i'm here. even if you don't see me sometimes, i am still here."

⎯ and if you still cared... well, there was still hope, right?

he's leaning over a rail, looking over the xianzhou skies and the starskiffs racing by. he hasn't been back in ages. it feels... strange; it feels as if he's experiencing his first day all over again.

blade is so fascinated by the sight that he fails to hear your footsteps come closer, now reaching his side. he only hears you after you clear your throat. he's startled, for obvious reasons: but, when he sees you hold up a mung bean soda in surrender, he's surprised at how fast the panic dies down.

"aren't you going to arrest me?" he took a step back from you. you didn't move, but instead held out the drink.

"i could," you dragged out, checking your watch, "but... i'm not on duty," the corners of your lips turn up ever so slightly, like you were happy at the fact that you were having a drink with a criminal. you pull open the tab and take a sip, then offer it towards him.

he blankly stares at your hand. remembers the feeling of it in his. now, his mind is skewed. maybe even grotesque if he wanted to sound dreadful about it. but there are few happy memories he can recall, as well as the feelings during them, and it seems like you are recreating one of them currently. and oddly enough, there are no feelings of bitterness that follow him this time.

he takes and drinks the mung bean soda, and to his surprise, it’s not as bad as it was many years ago. maybe it was because your lips were on it, or maybe it’s because the once atrocious drink did get better. and when he looks up and is greeted by your curious face, he hopes that love is like that as well.

jing yuan

⎯ years ago, if you had asked jing yuan what love was, he'd say something benign: love is indescribable. a simple answer for a simple man in love. but oh, has time took its toll.

⎯ it isn't to say that love isn't indescribable. on some days, he finds it worrying that he may love you too much⎯that his willingness to give you the world was a bit concerning at times. others point it out, but jing yuan chooses to be blindsided. but he is always aware.

⎯ aware. jing yuan is nothing short of perceptive. he has been around for centuries. he has been there for wars, for battles, for decrees. and it sticks with him: forever. he does not simply forget, yet he is forced to stay in one place forever. immorality may be a blessing for others, but a curse for xianzhou natives.

⎯ he does not give himself a moment to fully relax. even if it seems that way a lot (the dozing general needs his power naps), he is always back to his duties.

⎯ however, it's different with you. with you, he has no burdens to shoulder. he has no secrets to keep from you. there is no wall of tension blocking between you. with you, everything is for grabs. his feelings, his emotions, his heart.

⎯ vulnerability. many look down at the vulnerable. and in jing yuan's line of work, the cost of vulnerability comes with a substantial price. his guard has to be up at all costs, because if not, there would be another catastrophe. his act as a lazy general is just a rouse, because there is so much that's weighing on him inside.

⎯ in a city that flies, jing yuan feels rooted by the weight of the luofu.

⎯ so imagine the amount of unconcern he feels when he's around you. the feeling of rocks suffocating him has subsided, and you are here to remove them. and one by one, he begins to feel lighter and lighter as you hull them off.

⎯ and you don't get tired. you're still here. you keep picking off the rocks, even the smallest ones. you relentlessly continue until everything is gone, and the only things left are just you and him.

⎯ by now, he understands what love is. it's when he knows how your fingers have ran through every crevice of his brain, every knot in his stomach, every knot in his soul. it's understanding. it's being able to shoulder the weight of the world with another. it's someone staying to help you get the rocks off of your body.

⎯ love is being met with soft touches instead of daggers. love is being met with mhms and reallys while retelling a story from this morning. love is being able to speak about the past, the truth of it all, and allowing the light to peek through instead of the darkness. that is what love is.

"and then, get this, i found him in the midst of a fight with blade," jing yuan throws his head on your shoulder exasperatedly, disregarding the fact that you were halfway through your novel.

"well, he was doing his job," you counter, looking back towards your lover.

"i know," he slides a hand across his face, "it's just tiring. and i don't want him to get hurt." like others, is the unspoken phrase here. it's on the tip of his tongue, you know it.

you place a bookmark in your book before shutting it. you finally turn your full attention towards jing yuan, "he's strong. you trained him."

"but," he sighs, "what if it's not enough?"

you decide the mood is a little too melancholic, so you decide to lighten the mood a little bit, "then i'll take over as general of the luofu," you grinned. jing yuan smiled as well: your smile was infectious, how could he not?

you ran a hand through his hair, "you are good enough. i hope you know that. you won't fail yanqing. he's tough and stubborn... he sadly gets that from you."

jing yuan chuckles, a real chuckle, and pulls you closer to him as you grab your book once again. he presses a chaste kiss to your temple as he reads along to the same words on a page as you.

yes, things will be okay, he thinks.

hi y'all! i have been sooo busy w sm stuff lately, like i've been preparing for college and i've been going to the gym and i've been doing sm. updates have been scarce except like the 3 alhaitham posts (i couldn't resist). but hopefully during these last few weeks of summer i can get my grind back on!!!

[tonydaddingham]

yeah no this is actually my favourite response so far

[rendevok]

your narumitsu art made me weep with joy and I heard you want more requests 👀

idk if this is the right place to put them but I think phoenix coming with miles to try on his glasses for the first time would be sweet :,) miles asking how they look and phoenix being just smitten. the good stuff

Dear anon�� you sure know how to pick em! Things got very out of hand very quickly while drawing, and well. You inspired me to draft a comic! I didn’t want to make you wait long, so here are the sketches for the pages relevant to your request <3

Thanks so much, and hope you enjoy~! 💜

[meamiki]

Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading this link right here to the rb!!)

[chateautae]

hi <3

my lovelies are you still here? i'm thinking of dropping something 🥺

[tlirswriting]

[They Colonized Mars, entry 3 // start here]

For the world is hollow 

> Stepping outside into the Martian evening, light scattered by the dusty atmosphere paints the city shades of pale violet through the glass dome covering it, the distant sun appearing blue as it sets over the horizon. Two moons rise across from each other in the east and west; both smaller than Earth's Luna, and less round, bumpy and roughly egg-shaped. 

> Mars is colder than it looks — a desert of red sand and rocks — and while the biosphere is heated to tolerable levels, it still isn't toasty in the warehouse district. Atlas’ boots crunch into a thin layer of ice on the sidewalk, SaM-B's claw-like feet scratching for friction beside him. 

> “Do you have a name?” He asks it. “A real one, just for yourself?��� 

> “My designation is unit number one-thousand-three-hundred-and-forty—” 

> “But is it you?”

> It thinks for a second. “I don't know.” 

> “Fair enough,” He shrugs. “Just something to think about.” 

> It beeps. “Connection lost — I am out of network sensor range.” 

> Atlas uncovers its cameras and shoves his vest into his bag. 

> “Oh.” SaM-B pauses in its tracks, blinking its lights. 

> “What do you think?” Atlas adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

> It looks around for a moment, angling upwards to the tops of buildings. 

> “Hey.” He nudges it with his foot. “What do you think?” 

> “I don't know,” It beeps. “I've never seen the sky before.” 

> Shuttles intermittently shoot down the tracks beside them, stirring up clouds of red-orange dust. 

> “I have somewhere I want to show you,” He says. “Somewhere… Somewhere fun. For people like us to go when we’re not working.”

> “I am ‘people’?”

> He thinks. “Sure, if you want to be.” 

> They make their way through the city, neon signs flickering on as the night darkens. Moving away from the warehouses and factories, there are smaller businesses, repair shops and defunct mattress stores. Atlas ducks into an alleyway, following a familiar path twisting down a few levels, and there, underneath a tattoo parlour, is somewhere to go. 

[manchesterau]

zee manchesterau’s 2024 fic round up

I just want to start off by saying a big thank you to everyone who has ever reblogged or liked my writing post on here, the people who take the time to read the things that I put out on ao3, and those who even leave a comment and a kudos. It means so much to me, you all have no idea! I'm shit at replying to people but just know I read every single thing that's ever been sent to me, thank you all so much!!!

This year was the year that I broke my 4 year writers block. I'm not kidding when I say I mentally could not write anything, and I almost gave up on writing completely which absolutely devastated me as I've been a writer all of my life. I thought that I didn't have anything else to say, and that no one would want to listen but I was so wrong. I found inspiration again through dan and phil, but it was the lovely comments of support by this fandom that pushed me to write more. I ended this year with 10 fics on ao3 and a few ficlets on here and I'm still shocked that I was able to have written so much. Thank you, and I hope to share so much more with you all next year.

Fics under the cut ↓

tumblr

Phil wakes up to a still bus and the sounds of Chicago traffic. (tour bus ficlet)

Saturdays are theirs. (Phil proposes with dips)

Prompt: could you do something with them just waking up and being all lovey dovey while sleepy? Just sweet morning kisses and cuddles and softness all around please?

Prompt: helloooo for the fic prompts thing… cat and bear halloween 2009? pls (no pressure)

ao3

thinking of new ways to do each other

The stream ends but their night isn't over just yet.

fall in love again and again

Two days into their holiday while lounging by the villa pool that they rented out for the week to ensure maximum privacy, Dan has a thought: I’m going to marry this boy.

a bit ridiculous

And it would all feel a bit ridiculous if Dan wasn’t so madly in love.

exhale

The first leg of the tour has just ended, Dan and Phil find a way to relax in their hotel room.

stop the world i wanna get off with you *series*

A domestic night in the life of Phil the vampire and Dan the witch.

here come the dreams of you and me

So he and Dan are a thing now. Phil doesn’t really know what thing they are but it’s something he knows he wants to hold onto and never let go.

change

Everything is carefully controlled and he wonders why it seems that coming to Australia loosens his self-restraint.

15 Years

Their lives, forever intertwined.

healing hat

It’s only then while he’s about to climb back in bed and text Dan that whatever he ordered just arrived that he notices his head has settled down and he can actually blink without it hurting.

push and pull

They’re nowhere near ready to be done, and Phil isn’t always patient when it comes to most things but when it comes to fucking Dan, he has all the time in the world.

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

more little lloyd drawings !! reblogs + comments in tags appreciated :)

[samsheughan]

Sam Heughan & Caitríona Balfe Gold Derby Interview October 24, 2024