#kinda?? it can be read as platonic!!

[spoopdeedoop]

real friends have weird greetings that usually involve hitting each other

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[cozylittleartblog]

had a(nother) nightmare

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

Goretober Day 10: Horns

Content Warning: alcohol

WHAT DO YOU MEAN FLUFF DOESNT COUNT FOR GORETOBER.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[meracyn]

Fairy Whispers ༄

a/n ; first ever fic ! apologies in advance if it isnt too good 😭 thank you for requesting anon <3 this fic is meant to be platonic, but read it either way you’d like + tomorrow ill probs post some shuichi content, n e ways i hope you enjoy !!

Fairy Tail.

The world where magic and adventure intertwine at every corner; where many are given the gift of bearing a sort of power, yet not everyone uses it to help and save others.

There’s corruption. Murder. Bloodshed caused by those consumed by the desire of gaining more power.

But of course, there are always ones with a good heart.

It was a sunny day today; and a day where everyone at the Fairy Tail guild could relax. Everyone was mostly off doing their own thing. Some drinking, reading quietly, chatting or hanging out with others.

It was supposed to be a chill day today, but definitely wasn’t for Lucy.

“Stop! Please, don’t hurt them!”

Lucy was sent on a mission — having to catch some robbers on a small village. It was pretty simple, so she took her time walking around, enjoying her alone time, or was, until she heard faint cries of distress. Following the sound, she came upon a scene that caught her off guard; it was a group of fairy poachers, trapping innocent fairies in nets, crushing or squeezing them in dirty bags. Lucy felt anger, and knew she had to act fast. Summoning her celestial spirits, she began to attack them, using her quick wit and power.

After sending them all flying off, Lucy quickly freed all the fairies, who hid or flew off as well, except for one. Stuck between a net, Lucy picked up the fairy out of the strings. The fairy, with sparkly wings and tear-filled eyes, looked up at Lucy, admiration, yet a hint of sadness mixing in her expression. “Thank you so much for saving me and my friends..” Slightly trembling, she continued. “I thought I was going to be their next experiment..”

Lucy smiled a little, lifting her finger to pat the fairy’s head. “It’s okay now, I’m here to protect you.” She said, hoping to provide her some comfort. However, as they both turned around, Lucy realized the amount of damage that was done. The poachers had destroyed the fairy’s home in the chaos, leaving her with no place to return to. “Where will I go to now?” the fairy whispered in worry.

Though dwelling in sadness, the fairy was admired by Lucy’s quickness to get involved and save her. “Thank you for saving me,” she said, voice slightly shaky. In a moment of thankfulness, she leaned in and gave Lucy a gentle kiss on the nose.

To their surprise, Lucy’s nose began to grow—two feet long, just like Pinocchio — Lucy was stunned — poked her nose, felt embarrassed and shocked. She did not expect that to happen by one small kiss. “Well, at least no one will see me like this! I hope...” she tried to joke, chuckling awkwardly.

The fairy gasped at the sight of Lucy, wondering how the kiss caused that strange effect. “Oh no..I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen, but I’m sure it will wear off in a day.. I’m so sorry..” She cried out, frantically flying around while apologizing profusely.

Lucy only chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “It’s fine! It isn’t your fault, I know you have good intentions. But I guess I can smell trouble from a mile away now!” she exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood. The fairy, though still blaming herself, ended up smiling a little at Lucy’s attempt to make her feel better about the situation.

As they walked together, the fairy got an idea. “What if your nose becomes my new home in the meantime?” Lucy looked at her with an expression that said ‘That is the most wild idea I’ve ever heard.’ At the same time, she did understand how the little creature must be feeling, – losing the only place you call home is devastating.

“Does that mean you’ll decorate my nose and cut some parts to resemble it as a house?” Lucy teased. The fairy let out a short giggle while nodding, going along with Lucy’s jokes. “Now that you said it, maybe I should.” The celestial wizard feigned a look of horror before the two burst into laughter. Lucy promised to help her find a new home, and to find her whenever she needed help in the future.

The rest of the day was spent with them both picking up flowers, grass and small sticks. Using her magic, the fairy transformed the objects into a cloud seat, a small bed, table and chairs, filled with laughter along the way. Despite Lucy’s strange nose, she wasn’t too worried about it – at least it wasn’t permanent. Although it did feel really weird, she never would’ve expected to feel her nose heavy. Is this how Pinocchio felt? The blonde wondered. “I’ll definitely never forget this day.” she chuckled.

As the sun began to set, Lucy decided to lay down on the grass, humming contently as the cool breeze brushed against her skin. This experience was definitely strange but ending up being a lot of fun in the end.

It was quiet for a while, before she spoke up. “Like I said, whenever you need help, come find me at fairy tail. I’m Lucy Heartfilia, and I promise to always protect you.” Turning her head slightly, Lucy raised her hand, holding her pinky finger out. The fairy smiled, giving a nod. “I’m Y/N, and I promise you will always have the protection of the fairies from now on.”

They linked pinkies, under the starry night sky.

[propaganda101]

it's been 3 days and I'm still fucking stuck on LAD chapter 9 somehow

[thedemises]

——— THE REMEMBERED。 ★ jing yuan.

note; I got inspired and since december bouta end, I thought to quickly whip this up cuz that :3 man is on my mind rn :3c (the og title was supposed to be “a picture for the remembered” but it was too long so :C)

the streets of the luofu were alive with the sound of festivities as smiles and laughter echoed through the air. citizens bustled about while store vendors prepared and sold gifts and treats to eager buyers.

the christmas festival had brought together the xianzhou alliance in a way few events ever could. jing yuan, the esteemed general of the luofu, strolled through the decorated streets with a rare lightness in his step. the hum of laughter and music surrounded him, yet his thoughts were elsewhere — gaze noticing the visitor who had just arrived.

“ah, there you are,” jing yuan greeted calmly, his gaze settling on you as his body turned around to face you. you stood before him in all your glory; a faraway traveler originating from a planet you rarely spoke of to others — reserved but charming enough to connect with those around you, you were a unique wanderer who had assisted in the stellaron crisis, alongside the passengers of the astral express.

“i'm glad that i could make it,” you replied, mirroring his carefree smile, your hands clutched a carefully wrapped package that concealed the gift within its wrapping. “things have been going smoothly here, no?”

jing yuan threw his head back with a hearty laugh, the sound rumbling through the festive air. he crossed his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed, yet commanding. “of course not. holidays on the luofu are something else,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “i wouldn’t miss them for the world — even if it means being away work behind for a bit, ahahaha.”

your laughter joined his, light and genuine, as your eyes crinkled at the corners. the warmth in your expression mirrored his, the energy between you both as easy and bright as the festival around you.

jing yuan's golden eyes lingered on the package in your hands, his calm facade giving way to a subtle tilt of his head; his gaze, sharp yet warm, flickered between you and the neatly wrapped gift. stepping just a touch closer, his voice carried a quiet intrigue. “and just who,” he asked, his tone light but inviting, "might be the lucky one for this gift be?”

“hm?” your gaze followed his pointing finger, eyes landing on the neatly wrapped gift cradled in your hands. a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you extended it toward him. “oh, it’s actually for you, general. here,”

the general's brows lifted ever so slightly which betrays the brief off-guard look in his face, his golden eyes widening for a brief moment. “for me?” he echoed, his voice laced with a hint of surprise — then, his smile comes back, easy and unshaken, as he reached out to accept the gift from your insisting hands.

“how thoughtful of you, my friend.”

his hands closed around the package, and as he held its weight, his expression shifted just slightly — a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. the gift felt heavy — not in mass — but in meaning, as if it carried a piece of a history he had long guarded in his very heart.

“merry christmas, general jing yuan,” you said, your voice carrying a quiet joy that resonated with the warmth in your expression. your hand pressed lightly over your chest, a subtle gesture as if offering a piece of your own heart along with the words. the soft glow of the festival lights danced across your face, but your gaze remained steady on him, filled with purpose.

“i hope this gift i prepared for you is meaningful not just in your heart,” you continued, your tone gentle but deliberate, “but in the past memories you’ve made with former friends.” each word hung in the air, imbued with sincerity, as though you understood the weight of what you were handing him.

jing yuan’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, his usual relaxed smile softening into something deeper. there was an unspoken gratitude in his gaze as his lips curved into a warm smile — a gesture not just of politeness but genuine appreciation. with a quiet chuckle, he turned his attention to the gift in his hands, his fingers brushing against the edges of the wrapping as though the act of opening it was a sacred ritual.

with deliberate care, jing yuan unwraps the package from it's concealing wrapping, his golden eyes widening as the picture of the painting came into view; it was as a breathtaking depiction of five figures standing tall in their past prime — dan feng, yingxing, baiheng, jingliu, and himself surrounded around a table; their youthful faces radiated determination, camaraderie, and the boundless potential of a time long past.

his grip tightened on the edges of the frame as a lump rose in his throat. memories, sharp and vivid, flooded back to him; he could almost hear baiheng’s infectious laughter, feel the weight of jingliu’s gaze as she imparted wisdom, and sense the unspoken bond that had tethered them all together before time and fate unraveled it and separated their once oh-so close bond with one another.

you tilted your head, a subtle arch in your brow as you studied him closely, catching the faint tremble in his hands as they gripped the painting — the silence stretched for a moment, the weight of his reaction lingering in the air. “well?” you prompted gently, your voice breaking through his reverie.

jing yuan’s lips parted, his breath shaky as he spoke. “you must tell me where you got this done and how,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with emotion. his golden eyes flickered toward you, a raw mix of gratitude and vulnerability pooling within them, “this is the most wonderful and meaningful gift you’ve gotten me. thank you.”

his words were quiet, yet the sincerity in them struck like a chord, reverberating in the space between you both.

you nodded softly at his thanks, your gaze steady as you began to speak. the words came slowly at first, each one carefully chosen as you described the effort it had taken — the long hours spent piecing together the details, to commission an artist who could breathe life into the fragmented memories you had managed to gather.

as you spoke, jing yuan’s focus never wavered while he listened intently to your elaboration. his golden eyes, usually calm and carefree to others, now carried a raw depth of heavy emotion that seemed to grow with every word you shared. his hands still hele onto the painting with a gentle grasp in front of him as though the weight of it grounded him.

the atmosphere around the two of you felt quieter, the distant hum of the festival outside fading into the background. the guarded walls around jing yuan’s heart seemed to crack, allowing the weight of old memories to surface — in the presence of your words, the gift you had given him, and the first time in years; he felt a fragment of that long-lost era had been returned — a bittersweet warmth settling in his chest.

as the first tear slipped down his cheek, which he is quick to wipe it away before somebody had noticed, he allowed himself to embrace both the sorrow and the joy of the moment. the festival outside continued in full swing, but within his chambers, time seemed to pause.

for this christmas, more than any other, the general wasn’t just celebrating with his people — jing yuan was celebrating with the ghosts of his past, brought back to life by the one person who truly understood the depths of his heart.

© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, copy, or feed my written works to ai.

[creativehomicide]

Guess what game I got into

A certain character not included for obvious reasons

[a-tired-human-draws-junk]

It's so fucking funny being a labru shipper and randomly coming across people in the fandom that are like 'man.. I wasnt seeing it at first but you guys were right kabru is down HORRENDOUSLY for this man'

Like yeah.... yeah it's kinda embarrassing atp

[janetcage]

I’m titling this, Syzoth and Ashrah go to Walmart. Now accept the shenaniganary.

[jakearison]

Reasons why agent 4 should have been in splat3: a thread (1/278)

[waterfowlhours]

(1/?)

the meeting

[veinsfullofstars]

🎩 Putting on a show with style… and snow! 🎩

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Shadow Kirby interacting with Daroach, with guest cameos by Dark Meta Knight and Spinni. Top right - SK & DMK reflected in a steampunk-inspired mirror, each dressed in the Dreamy Gear attire of their counterparts but more tailored to them (purples instead of blues for SK, a tattered red cape and a spiked hat belt for DMK). SK stands on his tiptoes and holds his cheeks with a wide, starry-eyed smile, delighted with his new outfit, while DMK stands just behind him to our left, curled into his cape and looking disgruntled, a bit of blush peeking through his mask. Outside the mirror, Spinni stands proudly on our right, smiling and giving a thumbs-up with a hand on his hip and a few sewing pins in his teeth, while Daroach (dressed in his own Dreamy Gear clothes) stands on the opposite side, pointing at his friends' reflections with an affectionate smile. Middle left - SK & Daroach holding the Magic top hat together, the puffball looking up in awe as the thief taps it with his wand, causing a pair of white doves to fly out in a small burst of confetti. Bottom right - SK wearing the Ice hat and skating gracefully on one foot towards the viewer, arms held out and expression full of joy. Behind him, Daroach skates by in the opposite direction, holding up his wand to unleash gusts of glowing snowflakes all around them. END ID.)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 (you’re here!) | Part 7 | Compilation

Sketch started btw 12/23 - 06/24, render started 06/08/24, finished 06/13/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24.

[lmaster37]

was going to send a really snarky reply to somebody having a Bad Take on Izzy hands (obv i'm being somewhat facetious here) (like i do think their reasoning was bad but it's fine to just not like a character) (their reasoning was bad tho imo) and then decided not to do that and instead vaguepost about it here. peace and love on planet earth ❤️

[candy8448]

how is people making romantic shippy content ruining your experience by tiring you out lol ?? how is people making romantic shippy content preventing you from "letting you have" your platonic little guys. everyone in fandom does whatever they like. no one is gonna make the content you want for you

Im not trying to change how people see the characters as romantic or whatever they see them as and im sorry if it came off that way.

What i was trying to point out is that there is a severe lack of platonic content for dungeon meshi. I go on ao3 dunmeshi fandom tag and its mostly shipping and smut fics. (I mainly search for chillchuck fics and the majority chillshi or chillaios fics or shipping him with other characters, many/most containing smut and then i exclude those tags and there are barely any fics at all) and its just quite frustrating when it is all you can find

I was just trying to point out that there is a whole lot of shipping and i personally want to see more platonic stuff but im not trying to get anyone to change what they like/ship/make