#sobbed while writing this

[edvervain]

This is @thimblings post that I was lucky enough to see forever ago (like at least a week), that @rookanis-de-riva posted.

I was super excited because the colors are just phenomenal. However the scene just would not go where I wanted it and it's probably never going to be finished so I thought I would post it for WIP Wednesday.

This is my Rook (romancing Davrin in-game). That hair is kinky when you let it out of the braids!

Warning: Major Character Death (off screen), It's a TearJerker, It's not smutty (despite my best efforts)

Fic under the cut.

Ruined

"In War, Victory,

In Peace, Vigilance

In Death, Sacrifice.

Davrin lived up to every ideal of being a Grey Warden. He fought as hard as any Gray Warden has ever fought to bring victory from War, he stayed vigilant during peace, and he made the greatest sacrifice to stop the blight and thwart the ancient evil that tried to-"

Rook stood up. 

He'd done so many fucking hard things since Varric had dragged him into this thrice-damned mess. Sitting still and quiet while he listened to the eulogy was too much. 

He had made the arrangements, he'd talked with the planners and the people Davrin knew that had survived Weissheipt-Antoine & Evka mostly at this point; Eladrin had been exactly zero help with the planning but had actually found a laugh or two to drag out of Rook with stories of the other griffins in their training. That thought hurt just as much. 

Davrin's memorial was-nice. Rook thought he might have liked it, even if he wouldn't have said as much and made fun of the flowers. There were swaths of floral arrangements in the bold colors Davrin had favored, accented with large eagle feathers that Rook couldn't look at for too long. It looked like Teia had gotten ahold of one of the planners, and they'd done a good job. 

Rook slunk through the quiet halls away from the service, feeling like an ass and a failure. He wasn't even crying, Davrin would have had some smart remark about him not flinching from fighting through a horde but balking at a social event. Davrin would have grinned and his hand would have settled low on Rook's hip, hot through the light armor to pull him close with that low chuckle. Rook's breath caught in his throat and- 

He tripped on the stairs. Rook thought he might like to kill something. He flung his overcoat on the stair's banister, he was too hot for the stiff formal wear of a crow. Thank the gods- well- not them, but at least Lucanis hadn't seen him trip. There wouldn't have even been any jokes, he would have looked at Rook with those dark eyes that saw everything and that would be the end of the damned world. Rook couldn't afford to be seen right now.

Somehow, he found his way outside. The fresh air was a relief after the stuffy confines of the service hall. He jerked off the leather gloves, good for combat or a ballroom - sturdy but flexible. They were tossed on a low bench as he passed. Rook reached up and tugged the top buttons of his silk button-down open. The collar was too tight and he really didn't want to feel claustrophobic. The tight fitting shirt was making it hard to breath.

The edge of the low garden wall appeared in his vision and Rook paused. On a normal day he wouldn't have even noticed an easy vault like that. But his hands were shaking and the edges of his vision glistened threateningly and he would do something unfortunate to anyone unlucky enough to see him fumble the jump. 

Impulse took over though and he bounced on his toes a couple of times to make sure the new boots would brace his ankles right on a landing and broke into an easy jog. In a few steps it was a flat out run and the world was blurring and he was only mostly sure he was going to jump the wall and not hit it face first. He reached out to jump-

An arm caught him- or a whole body. He was going too fast to just stop and they tumbled to the ground. He rolled to a knee, a hand already grasping the empty air where his dagger would normally rest. "Easy, Rook." 

Lucanis. Fuck.

"What do you think-" Rook cut off in shock as Lucanis touched his lips. He jerked back, blinking the blur of tears from his eyes and looking at Lucanis properly. He looked untouched by their tumble, his own one-shoulder cloak hardly even out of place. Rook thought he might hate him-just a little. He'd had to ask Teia to help him braid his hair this morning, his hands had been too thick-fingered. 

"Rook-" Lucanis started again but Rook shook his head and stood up. He was a mess, his shirt pulled to one side and the large sleeves he usually liked were tangled around his arms. 

"Rook." Now Rook had no choice but to listen, Spite's harsh inflection overlaying on Lucanis's lilting accent had always gotten his attention. "Smells. Like. Regret." The words were a slap in the face. Spite threw him back into the middle of Solas's Fade prison and Rook simply stared at Lucanis as his eyes bled violet fire and Davrin's image, carved out of stone the way he'd carved his friends out of wood, loomed over him in his mind's eye. He couldn't breath. Couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

A sharp sound hit his awareness before the impact registered on his cheek. He still couldn't see, the world was just blurred streaks of color, but he choked on a breath, then another. He jerked back away from Lucanis. He was going over the damned wall, he didn't care if there was a sheer cliff on the other side-

His back hit the wall, Lucanis pinned him to the rough stones and-

Lucanis wrapped his arms around him and held on tight. Rook jerked and twisted and Rook hated that his training hadn't focused on the physical as much as Lucanis's had- hated that Spite's strength made Lucanis stronger then he had any right to be- hated that the hell Lucanis had been through had made him understand pain in a way he shouldn't have ever known- hated the way Lucanis's arms tightened, trying to hold him together, trying to keep Rook from breaking-  

The first sob broke abruptly and caught Rook by surprise. Lucanis grunted as though he was struggling and Rook twisted- hard. Hard enough to almost get away. Then Rook was on his knees and Lucanis caught him again and another sob choked it's way out of his throat. "Cry, mi amico, no one will think less of you." Lucanis offered the reassuance in that soft, considerate tone he used when offering one of his little kindnesses. 

Rook reached up, he was going to push Lucanis away. He was going to shove him off and take a breath and get himself together and walk away. His fingers tangled in Lucanis's shirt. He held on. Rook held on and then he pulled himself tighter. The next sob only held so long because Rook couldn't breath around it. Then he was crying, sobbing, choking out weeks of edging himself around the holes in his heart where Davrin and Assan had made a nest for themselves. 

He cried and clung and hoped his trainer was rolling in a shallow grave somewhere at the idea of Rook sobbing his heart out on the First Talon's shoulder. 

---

Later, after the tears had run out again, and his face was clean, no one made a fuss when Lucanis led him back into the service. It turned out that breaking into pieces could be a rather quick affair. Lucanis didn't ask about his jacket or gloves, didn't tell him to do his buttons back up. Merely walked beside him and sat with him. Emmrich spoke now and he didn't speak about Davrin's end, but rather his life. How much they'd all grown together. No one said anything when Rook cried again but this time was gentler, silent tears slicked his cheeks and no one said anything when the First Talon dropped a hand to catch his where they twisted together in his lap and held on. 

Once the guest had left, they found some booze. Harding had smuggled them in a few bottles of some Fereldan swill, but Lucanis had brought a dark, thick, almost purple, red wine, that he called Port and it burned just a little sharper then the reds he normally favored but it was sweet and had a hint of the fruit that lingered on the tongue. Rook listened to his friends talk, about Davrin and Assan, and the other wardens, and the griffons in Arlathan, and the port burned his tongue just enough to keep the tears at bay. 

Rook found himself laughing at Taash's retelling of a story about Davrin beating them at wrestling because Assan had flown over and taken a shit on the pair of them. The stories got softer, they talked about what they would remember, what they would miss, Rook couldn't talk. He was almost certain he would start crying again, he might already be crying, more silent tears slipping down his cheeks, but the port made it feel less awful somehow. 

The night was deep when Lucanis coaxed him up from his seat and took the last of his goblet of port. Rook didn't know how many cups he'd had but everything was fuzzy and soft edged and Rook let Lucanis help him to his feet. "Tonight was hard- thank you for making me stay." Rook knew he'd never say it sober and he needed Lucanis to know what he'd done was appreciated. Lucanis simply gave him one of those slight, soft smiles and helped him up the stairs to his room. Standing alone in the cool darkness, Rook pulled the remaining formal wear off, letting it drop carelessly on the floor. The bed would be too big, it was always too big now. He'd been able to wake up curled between Davrin and Assan only a handful of times but it had been something that felt kind of like home. 

Drunk, it was easier to wonder if he'd ever find something like that again. It was easier to wonder if- just maybe, it was already there, waiting, and he just needed to be in a place where he was able to see it. Rook crawled into the too big bed and fell asleep to dream of wings and the two men who helped him to fly.

[soap-ify]

thinking about laying beside simon on the bed, your head resting on his shoulder while his hands held a book that you had gifted him, his eyes fixed on the text.

your fingers absentmindedly traced over the scars on his chest, letting your soft fingertips draw over the rough sunken skin of the healed gashes — a painful story written in each of them. and you wanted to read it all, read every scar and cut, kiss all of it, absorb it so you could share it with him — a connection only you’d ever have with him.

your fingers slowly found their way to his stomach, hand caressing the muscles that had softened up ever since he had come home from deployment, your eyes noticing the stretch marks starting on the sides of his tummy that you adored so much. pale lines adorning his skin, urging you to probe them too, your hand touching him so gently — an angel soothing a wounded soldier.

simon is gorgeous, too gorgeous. he never seemingly saw it the way you did. “you’re so pretty…” you lazily whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

you were the warmth his cold heart sought, the fire that melted him, the sun that gave his moon the light he never thought he’d see. he needed you in the way a man needed a god, in a way a plant yearned for water. and you were happy to give it all to him, everything for your sweet simon.

“you tryin’ to tickle me, love?” his gruff voice broke you out of your trance, your eyes finding his which were no longer looking at the book, an intrigued grin playing on his lips that made you giggle heartedly and give his stomach some pats.

“maybe.”

[honey-bird10]

MAN I WAS ALREADY NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME MAKING THIS BUT THEN I NEEDED TO CHANGE SOMETHING AND THIS PROMPT CAME UP WHEN I TRIED TO SAVE IT YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK I'll JUST DIE

HERE IT IS WITHOUT THE PROMPT IF ANYONE CARES

[somewhereincairparavel]

okay but imagine. Thalia Grace, after Jason's death, in a fit of desperation, comes racing to Nico di Angelo, wanting him to summon his ghost, because she just wants to talk to her brother one last time. Before it's too late. Before he reaches Elysium, since the closest she could get to talking to her brother after he goes to the hero's paradise is through dreams, and that wasn't enough for her. Seeing his fragmented soul through dreams is not nearly good enough. She wants the message to reach him. The real him. Not a loomy remnant. She wants to apologise, as she feels her soul being hollowed out with guilt.

She should've looked for Jason, even after their mother told her that he's dead.

She shouldn't have been so busy with the hunters that she would have to cut their brother-sister conversation short.

She should've realised how much her brother craved her attention.

She should've come to the chb meeting that she'd promised jason she'd come to, she shouldn't have made her brother wait like a lost puppy.

The look in jason's eyes when she told him she'd have to leave was etched on to her face. Permanently scarring her soul.

She should've been a better sister. She failed him. She failed to make him feel wanted. She hoped Jason didn't face his death thinking that she didn't need him. Because Gods of Olympus, that would break her.

And she poured all of these gut wrenching thoughts to Nico, who suprisingly listened. Yes. Nico did resent Thalia for being in the hunters of Artemis, the same group that got his sister killed. But listening to Thalia pour her heart out to him, really hit a little too close to home. The daughter of Zeus seemed to echo a young nico, trying aimlessly to summon his sister's ghost to talk to her. They both had the same hollow red eyes, burning with hot tears streaming down, the same crease in the eyebrows, the same flicker of rage over their siblings's murder. At that moment, Thalia Grace looked as unthreatening as the king of all god's daughter could possibly look like.

But Nico was glad, that Thalia, atleast cared about her little brother to this extent. Up until this point, Nico had these lingering doubts if Bianca had really cared about him like this, she had dropped everything to join the hunters after all. Hearing Thalia talk about jason had healed his inner child. Maybe big sisters do think about their younger brothers, no matter how busy they appear to be... So he complied to her wishes. She deserved closure from her brother's death. It would do Jason some good too.

He poured all of his concentration into summoning the son of Jupiter, as Thalia anxiously chewed on her nails, pacing around the murky woods in anticipation. Until a wispy figure with rimmed glasses and neatly cropped hair, appeared in front of them.

"Hello, sis."

Nico di Angelo and Thalia Grace were more or less the same, when it came to wanting to make amends with their deceased sibling.

Except Thalia was the older sister who wanted her younger brother back, And Nico was the younger brother who wanted his older sister back.

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 04/08 // angst with a happy ending

wc: 2.3k // rating: G // cw: language // tags: post-s4, eddie lives, eddie in WITSEC, mutual pining, phone calls

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“So, where are you now?”

Steve knew he wasn’t going to get a real answer to this question—given that Eddie wasn’t allowed to say—but it was basically tradition at this point to ask. 

Eddie chuckled through the receiver. “Hmm… it’s windy. And cold as balls. Will probably start snowing soon.”

Steve raised his brows. “Snow? This early?”

Dustin, from Steve’s kitchen island, mirrored his look of interested surprise, and immediately started looking over the map laid out on the countertop. It was dotted with little red and yellow stickers and various scribblings.

“Yep,” Eddie responded, popping the P. “Pretty shit going out for a smoke, but lots of trees around, so the view is decent at least.”

“Lots of trees,” Steve repeats, with a pointed glance at Dustin, who hurriedly starts marking different spots on the map. 

“How’s Henderson’s map going?” Eddie asked, knowing by the tone what they were doing.

“It’s… going?” Steve responded with a shrug. “He thinks he’s worked out the movement system.”

“I have worked out the movement system, thank you very much,” Dustin snarked, not looking up at Steve. “We can track their movement from the West Coast back up North, hence the snow.”

Eddie laughs again. “Kid’s too smart for his own good.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve grumbles, moving away from the kitchen, as far as the cord allowed him to. He drops his voice low. “How you holding up?”

“I dunno,” Eddie sighs. “Same shit, different place… Same shitty government officials with the same shitty requirements.”

Steve wants to say so much, to reassure and comfort him, but holds back. Keeps it in. “How’s Wayne doing?”

“He’s alright, doesn’t love the cold…” Steve can picture Eddie looking over at where Wayne is probably sitting nearby. “Hopefully they’ll move us somewhere warmer next.”

“D’you know when that’ll be?” A small pit of anxiety swirls in Steve’s gut. As it did any time they spoke of Eddie needing to move.

“Nah, last time was six months, but time before was only three. Hopefully this is just another quick one.” Steve can hear Eddie chewing on his lip, can picture him playing with his hair.

“Steve!” Dustin calls from behind the wall. “Ask Eddie what kind of trees are around him!”

Steve snorts. “Did you get that one?”

“Tell him I have no idea,” Eddie deadpans. 

Lowering the receiver, Steve calls over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know, buddy.”

“What kind of trees…” Eddie grumbles, only slightly mocking. “I guess I can’t blame him for trying.”

“It’s how he deals.” Steve keeps his voice low. “He misses you. I miss you.” His brain scolds him—too much—and he quickly adds, “We all do.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, and Steve’s almost sure he hears him hit his head on the wall. “I miss you too. All of you.”

It was a thing that happened often, for how infrequently Eddie was able to call. A kind of vulnerability that Steve supposed came from the fact that they couldn’t see each other, and wouldn’t for a long time yet. They’d skirt around it, but it was there, pulled taut between them, ready to break with one wrong move.

“How much longer?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t already know, like he hasn’t been counting down the days since Eddie got taken away.

Eddie exhales heavily, the sound muffling through the receiver. “Bit under three years.” Steve can hear the sad smile in his voice.

“Right.” Steve leans back against the wall, head tilted back as longing shoots through his gut. They were almost at the halfway point. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just… couldn’t. Steve would wait.

Steve’s kicking snow off his boots at his front door when he hears the phone ring from inside. He bolts in, slipping on the floor slightly in his haste. 

“Hello?” he answers breathlessly.

“Hey.”

A wave of relief washes over him. “Eddie,” he breathes.

“You okay? Did I wake you up?” His tone immediately switches to one of concern.

“No, no, I just got back from the Henderson’s,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, willing his heart to calm down now that he’s answered the call. “We wanted to call you, but… y’know.”

“Yeah…” Eddie sighs. “I wish you could.”

The silence settles, and they just listen to each other breathe for several long moments. Steve knows that Eddie is holding back, the same way he is. Saying things that are only close to what they mean. Their quiet filled with unanswered questions and things they wish they could say. Finally, Eddie breaks it.

“Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah, just me tonight,” Steve says, shrugging his jacket off. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. Steve didn’t really think it was that funny. Their constant need to skirt around the thing developing between them led to him saying some dumb stuff. He rolls his eyes at himself.

“I don’t think I could handle talking to anyone else tonight,” Eddie says, voice growing soft. “It’d be, I dunno, too much. With you, I can just… be, y’know?”

Steve is surprised—as he often is—at the honesty. He tries to make his next words sound casual, but he’s sure he fails miserably. “I’m glad I caught you then.”

“Yeah… me too.” Eddie doesn’t let the silence linger for too long this time. “So, any new Henderson theories to update me on?”

Steve snorts. “Of course.”

Letting him talk about his day at the Henderson’s, Eddie hums in the right moments, asks a few follow up questions, makes little jokes, but is otherwise quiet, seemingly content to just let Steve ramble. Happy to hear his voice. He lets Steve talk until he’s yawning too much to complete a full sentence.

“Sorry, I should let you go to sleep, it’s late.” Eddie’s tone is gentle, but like he’d rather be saying anything else.

“Nah, it’s cool, man,” Steve argues sleepily. “Don’t wanna waste your call.”

“It’s never wasted with you.”

“Eddie…” Steve doesn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but doesn’t know if he should. If he even could. He yawns again.

“Come on, bed time,” Eddie’s voice teases.

Steve feels the pull of his eyelids, begging for sleep. “Yeah, alright… Talk to you soon?” He tries to ask it casually, but again, can’t seem to manage it. Something like pleading coming through in his words.

“As soon as I can,” Eddie promises, voice tight with sincerity. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Steve pauses. “Merry Christmas.”

He can hear the sad smile in Eddie’s voice. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“How much longer now?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer.

“Two and a bit years,” Eddie sighs. “Past halfway, at least.”

Even Steve can tell he’s trying to convince himself it’s a good thing, but neither of them feel any happiness about it.

It’s been almost six months since Steve heard from Eddie, much longer than any gap between calls before. Anxiety gnaws away at him, a constant presence whispering in the back of his mind and sitting like a stone in his stomach. The kids—barely even kids now, having graduated high school—were starting to show their worry. He begged and pleaded with invisible entities that they’d hear something soon.

The phone finally rings.

“Hello?” Steve answers with urgency, as he did every time it rang these days.

“Steve?” the voice croaks.

“Eddie!” Bringing a hand to his face, Steve’s eyes welled with tears. “Eddie, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures him, sounding anything but. “They just had us somewhere remote. We didn't have a phone.”

“What the fuck? Can they do that?” Quiet rage slips through Steve’s chest.

“Evidently, they can do whatever they want,” Eddie seethes. “Didn’t stop me from bringing hell at every check up until they moved us again.”

Steve winces at the pain in Eddie’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. It’s fucking awful, what they’re doing to you.”

“It’s bullshit!” Eddie snaps. “I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t believe this was their solution. Like, I’m the one demonised and hunted down in Hawkins and somehow I’m the one that ends up punished for it! It’s not even a solution. All it’s doing is fucking me around.” He takes a breath. “It’s hurting me. It’s hurting us.”

To anyone else, it would sound like Eddie meant him-and-Wayne-us, or even him-and-the-entire-party-us. But Steve knew. Heard it in the way he almost whispered it. Steve wanted to match his anger, throw something, hit something. Instead, he willed it down.

“It fucking sucks,” Steve says, keeping his tone soft. “But we’re so close to the end now. It’ll be over soon.”

“I just…” Eddie’s voice lowers. Steve can picture the way the air deflates out of him. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish… you could’ve come with me.”

“Me too.” Steve lets the back of his head hit the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” Eddie says it like it’s painful. Like it gets caught in his throat halfway up. Like he was saying something else entirely.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I called when I don’t really have anything to say.” It’d been close to silent for more than five minutes before Eddie says it, voice soft. Almost timid.

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice at all. To know you’re alive.”

The silence settles between them again. Comfortable, somehow. Eddie’s voice is smaller when he speaks again. “Only six months left.”

“Only six months,” Steve repeats, slightly more optimistic.

“We can… we can do it, right?” Eddie sounds so unsure. Steve can picture him playing with his hair. “It’ll be okay? When you visit?”

Steve knows what he means. He’s felt the same way for a long time. Scared that once they’re reunited, whatever this thing was—this delicate bubble of vulnerability—between them would burst. Each phone call found it wound tighter and tighter, pulled like a rubber band that would eventually reach its limit and snap, hurting both of them in the process. 

“It’ll be more than okay,” Steve says, sounding more sure than he feels. He wants more than anything to be able to hold him. To reach through the phone and wrap his arms tightly around him, feel the rise and fall of his breath and listen to his heartbeat.

“Promise?” Eddie asks, and Steve can picture him chewing on his nails.

“Promise.”

“One month left,” Steve whispers in the dead of night. No one else is there, but something about the late hour makes him quiet. Or maybe it’s what he’s saying. Like a wish that needs to be kept secret, or it won’t come true.

“One month,” Eddie repeats, just as soft. “You’ll be here?”

“Wherever you are, I’ll be there,” Steve assures him.

He’s sure Eddie can feel it too. The thing between them growing more palpable, more solid, more real. The less time they have left, the stronger it becomes. It terrifies both of them.

The car stops in an urban area of Chicago. Steve glances around as he gets out of the backseat, giving a quick thanks to the government official who drove him. His heart races. This is it. Double checking the address on the small piece of paper, he looks up to the block of apartment buildings, scanning the numbers.

Steve doesn’t need to look for long. At the next building, standing in the entryway, with his curly hair pulled into a messy bun, shadow of facial hair around his jaw, face more angular than Steve remembers, is—

“Eddie…” The name comes out in a soft breath, like a prayer. His eyes well up and he quickly blinks, as though the man might disappear if Steve couldn’t see him.

Whatever was holding Eddie to the stoop of his building breaks. He jumps down, skipping the stairs completely and landing with a thud of his boots. He runs, as quick as his legs allow him, until he crashes into Steve, almost knocking them both to the ground. With his arms around Steve’s neck, Eddie whispers his name over and over. Steve pulls him tight, arms wrapped around his waist. Steve can feel Eddie’s heartbeat matching his—racing, pounding, about to jump out of his chest. They hold each other like they’ll never let go, afraid that all of it could be taken away again.

Finally, Eddie pulls back, one hand softly entangled in Steve’s hair, and looks at him, huge eyes filled with tears. “You look different,” Eddie says with a wet laugh.

Steve can’t help but smile. “In a good way?”

Eddie nods with enthusiasm, grinning despite the tears. “In a really good way.”

Their eyes are locked on each other, and Steve can’t hold back anymore. He leans in, cautiously at first, before Eddie gives him a tiny nod, leaning in to meet him halfway. Their lips finally meet, crashing together, and Steve gasps at the feeling. It’s messy and desperate and shy. It’s everything they wished they could say, given to each other in their kiss. Steve brings his hands up to hold Eddie’s face, feeling the tears spill over and wiping them away with his thumbs.

They pull back, laughing and crying. Steve kisses him again and again and again, on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, before finally just looking, taking in every detail of Eddie’s face. The deep brown of his eyes, the thick lashes, the faint dusting of freckles across his nose. “I’m never letting you go. Never again.”

Eddie laughs again. It sounds like a sob. “Never again. You promise?”

“I promise,” Steve says reverently. “I love you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s smile grows wider, a fresh lot of tears spilling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”

[soarstar]

aang and katara’s relationship is treated so weirdly by the fandom that it almost makes me forget how beautiful it actually is. katara and aang have been there for each other during every rough time of their time together, with their relationship slowly developing very clearly, and yet people somehow people consider them rushed ???

when THESE scenes exist?

like, am i crazy? or did we not watch the same show?

[nabaath-areng]

All is full of love.

[stere0typical]

Your best friend dies. Your best friend hasn't been your best friend for centuries, in fact they've been known to refer to you as an enemy.

But your best friend has died and wants their remains to be brought home. And you agree to bring them back to where you grew up together (as best friends) because that was your best friend.

And on the way your best friend comes back, as some unnatural version of themselves that isn't your best friend and you both crash. You get greviously injured, so bad in fact everything about you changes, not just your exterior but the very fibre of your being. You've changed before but now you're more unlike your best friend than ever.

And your best friend, no longer dead, decides to destroy the whole universe, everything anybody has ever known or loved or cherished, but you stop them at the last minute, because that's the waltz you and your best friend have been dancing to for decades.

And you see your best friend hurt people and you forgive them anyway because that's your best friend; how could you they ever be unforgivable?

And your best friend refuses to take your hand. Your best friend refuses to accept your forgiveness, rather dying than accepting your outstretched hand.

You're enemies, aren't you?

Your best friend dies. You bring them home.

[doawks]

༊*·˚ what it’s like being with joshua hong.

♫. that’s my girl, frank sativa.

contains sfw & nsfw.

Joshua likes to call you an angel because that's what you are. In fact, if he's feeling extra sentimental (which he normally is) ━ He'll tell you that it was obviously fate that brought you two together. He remembers his late nights when he was usually deep in thought, and how he would pray and pray for God to send an angel his way and bring sunshine to his world so his heart could heal and grow ━ It's memorable to note that since he's met you, you've done just that. Brought light to his world and now his heart's big and fully grown.

Joshua likes to spoil you from the hairs on the top of your head down to the tip of your prettily manicured toe because you deserve the best and nothing less. Seriously, whatever you want. 'Cause nothing is ever too much for his girl - ever.

Joshua likes to show you off━ not to flaunt you like you're some kind of animate object and ignite jealousy in other males, no. But to show the entire world how breathtakingly beautiful you are.

Joshua always, always has you in mind. It doesn't matter what he's doing or where he's at. He needs to have you in his mind, especially when he's on tour and he's so busy to the point where he can't even pick up the phone to text you. The mere thoughts of you and your pretty face is what's keeping him sane.

Joshua likes to listen to anything and everything you say. Every little thing, even when you think he isn't listening━ he is. He likes that you always get so excited when you speak about your day or something as simple as the weather, it's so adorable and he's very fond of it.

(nsfw) Joshua likes to kiss you━ Wherever. But if he's going to be appropriate, Joshua likes kissing your pretty lips because they're perfectly molded and feel so soft against his. He likes to kiss your nose, your cheeks, your forehead. But if he's going to be inappropriate, Joshua likes to kiss your neck, your collarbone or down your pretty body so he can ease his way down to your cunt - spending his morning in between your thighs. Obviously kissing on your clit and puffy lips, because he loves kissing you ━ every damn inch of you.

Joshua likes making everything about you. If he hears one of the members talking about something they like and you just so happen to like it as well, best believe this man will be like, "Oh! YN likes that as well!" with a big ass, boyish grin on his face. Or if he's out at the store shopping for clothes or anything and he see's something that reminds him of you, he'll be thinking, "YN would probably like this." and end up buying whatever it is . . . this correlates with him always having you in mind.

Joshua likes when you send pictures of yourself because he's always quick to make it his wallpaper instantly. He's also saving every picture you send and adding it to his "My pretty girl" collection. He's so whipped for you, it's honestly crazy. And when he's on tour or far away from you, he goes through that collection with a small, content smile on his face ━ silently soaking up all your beauty from the screen awaiting the days 'til he'll get to see your pretty face again in person.

(nsfw) Joshua likes to be sweet and delicate with you. He likes to whisper huskily in your ear, telling you how pretty look while taking his cock like a good girl. He likes━loves to tell you how one day he's going to fuck you full of his come and make you mommy - belly round and breast full of milk as they drip from your swollen nipples. But Joshua can also get rough and mean, telling you how much of a nasty little slut you are for taking him from behind in this dirty public bathroom at the club because you just couldn't wait 'til you two got home so he could properly take care of you. No, you just couldn't wait. Now you're whining and moaning like a bitch in heat while Joshua's splitting your pussy apart on his cock, mascara running down your face, his hand in your hair - pulling the back of your head to his chest.

Joshua's love language: Act of Service. You honestly don't even know why you try to lift a finger when Joshua Hong is around. He makes breakfast every morning and on top of that, he feeds it to you! Giving you a look and a disgruntled grunt when you attempt to lift up your own fork. When he's home before you are, he running you a bath as soon as you walk through the door ━ when he comes from the bathroom, he's making his way over to you, pulling you over to the couch, placing you onto his lap and rubbing your back soothingly; letting you tell him all about your day, not saying anything until you were fully finished. In the bath, he's seated in the back of you and he's washing every part of your body, kissing the skin behind your ear lovingly while doing so.

At the end of the day, Joshua just likes loving you and he will continue loving you until his last breath on this Earth. Even then, he'll still be loving you in the afterlife.

[cursed-charms]

for tomura's bday pls pls pls PLEASE don't write angst of him I NEED THAT BOY TO BE HAPPY FOR ONCE. write angst of him on any other day BUT HIS BIRTHDAY?? DON'T. PLEASE. I'M B E G G I N G.

(anyway idea for those who are willing to write - write abt how tenko would have his bday celebrated w his fam before writing abt tomura having his bday celebrated by the league...something like a parallel?? idfk u write i read and cry)

[fuumiku]

Demon AU (krkb)

+ bonus Kuro

Kurokabuuu!! If Kabru gets to be naked then so does Kuro, equality for all 🔥Not to break the mystique but in that intro comic Kuro isn't flexing he's just pushing Mickbell away bc he about to be in business mode gdbdg. Was weird trying to make Kuro look more demony, did not work very well except for making him buffer but hey...! A black dog demon yeah yeah yeah...!

I have accidentally recreated Howl's Moving Castle... NOW HEAR ME OUT- The base concept for my satyr Kabru AU (the initial idea was the sketch where he has no horns haha) now turned demon AU was materializing Kabru's fear of anything monster, particularly his insecurity as a kid of being an incubus('s child and that making him a monster), and helping him work through it so he can love himself and others and the world better, but everything started clicking only after thinking about Kuro's role in the setting more. He's this feared dude with a witchy reputation and a lil rhyme about how everyone should stay away from him for their own sake etc etc, but he's not a demon just a dog dude really. The setting in this AU is much like Dunmeshi, but all monsters are called "demons" instead and tied with this concept of demonic not just monstrous, there's special generalized fear in them being kinda fundamentally evil. But they're just beasts, and sometimes just demihuman races, like Kuro. Magic does exist though, and curses, and yeah just a folk kinda vibe!

Kabru because he's become supernatural knows how to speak Kuro's tongue now too, or maybe he's always known it idk... But Kabru sought Kuro out because he's The demon guy around, thought if anyone around would know how to do anything about his having become a monster it'd be him- Mickbell is there too ig like waaa this innocent-looking (def isn't) human loves this demon and lives with him, alone but peaceful as hermits in the woods? Wah wild. Wah we can still have love?? Wah we can fall in love together and live happy monster lives even if ostracized??! Wah wait I'm not even a monster it was just my own latent magical powers cursing myself because I worried and believed myself to be a demon so intensely for so long?!! Wah we can truly have it all...... Growth feels so nice. Except Mickbell, that grown ass man is not finding inner peace yet. Still he's chill here since he's a side char not a main one

It's how Kuro's confident in himself despite everything being stacked against him, it's how he still trusts and likes himself, it's how he just wants a simple happy life and pursues what he wants, it's how he takes things simply... Self-critical Kabru always neglecting himself over obsessing about the greater good could learn from him........ Kuro is the only one after his transformation that unconditionally welcomes him and shows him compassion and it's all so confusing to him, especially since at first Kabru wouldn't even offer that same humanization to Kuro, only risked it out of necessity for his own circumstances, but he gradually becomes able to see the humanity in him despite his appearance, mannerisms, way of life and ideals, until he sees the humanity in him and himself too despite their appearances, until he finds there's nothing wrong in this routine and life of theirs in this isolated magical little place, until........... Just about accepting all of those fuzzy inbetween ways to be that are unclean and hard to understand from the outside, and growing comfortable in them and loving himself and kuro and the life they've made together.......!!!!!! What if through humanizing you I humanized myself... What if through growing a understanding for each other wevalidated ourselves, love as self-love...

I love including Rin into things, for a more plotty story it'd be neat if she tried and followed Kabru... He up and disappeared and she's a capable mage and she doesn't know what his plan was because he never tells her anything so she goes out and pursues him- Could even be the main antagonist besides just idk self-hate and townspeople lol, like she thinks Kuro is keeping him prisoner or something and also because she kinda represents the same kinda social trauma Kabru has, where she's strict about conforming and being an irreproachable undeniable human so she kind of wants to drag him back to that state he was in of anxiety over acting and being human enough...... But of course in the ultimate confrontation when she has her staff pointed at Kuro and they talk, she's hurt by him not confiding in her and thinking of her as someone who wouldn't help, but she understands and stops and yay happy ending :> And if we want them to be in this Holm and Dia may be allies I feel 🤔Like maybe they help out Kabru when they see him, help him escape their human village at one point or something, Holm is quite nice and cares for spirits and Dia's fled her home too so they kinda get it in a way, it'd contrast Rin... This isn't about the Laios party lol. Rin & Mickbell shenanigans would lowkey be fun like maybe Mickbell tricks Rin into thinking Kabru IS there against his will so she can take him away and the status quo of Mickbell not having to share Kuro with anyone is preserved, or maybe they just shittalk and grumble together. Gbdgd this is a plotline about accepting change and these two are noooot happy about it

So yeah he hates being a monster that's the schtick!! Won't a cool dog man pleaseeee turn me human again. Surely he can do that right. So he goes to live with this feared coolass magicky guy and that guy's little guy at his weird home and through making connections and self-love the curse you actually unknowingly put on yourself gradually lessens and disappears, but you don't care anymore because that's the point 😌 Which is why I call it a Howl's Moving Castle recolor gdbd

Kabru is usually the voice of reason within kurokabu so it's really fun switching the roles in that way. If you're just stumbling into this and are sooo confused first of all congrats on getting so far second I can't overstate how unironic this is + if you want more explanation about the ship I made a brainstormy manifesto here <3 Like, did you know Kuro's name is actually Yodan? He was likely called Kuro by Mickbell due to the language barrier. In this AU it's because no one's interested in him as a person so people just give him an ominous title that means black. But Kabru learning his name and Kuro willingly giving away that information and Kabru feeling the weight of it because he really thinks this'd allow him to control him (he can't actually control bc he's not a demon! No one's a demon yay! Just weirdo humans who get otherized)......

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other vers because I 1) really like it and 2) am very indecisive. I overthink every single slight color change I stg lol

Sigh....... Like bro what if we were both so so far away from home and we knew we can't really go back and we've made our peace with that but man I miss not having been ripped away from my homeland and we are both so so isolated in our own ways in our presents and with a small yet gigantic gesture of compassion and of seeing each other we can learn and grow together with secret study dates where I teach you how to communicate the same way you're teaching me your language, we are both reaching across to each other we are both finding in one another a presence and humanity that feels so rare anywhere else. A sliver of warmth a sliver of home but also a sliver of the new, and embracing that things are changing and that we've changed and wow the animality within humanity and the humanity within animality!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey bro your humanity I am only now fully grasping and coming to terms with is so hot bro............ What if your beastly features ended up making me more comfortable in my own stinky human animal flawedness bro........ What if we could just be together reassured through each other that we're human enough no matter what and that's all we need to just be and wahhhhh aughhhhh

Kurokabu is Kuro needing to choose between Kuro and Yodan. Kurokabu is needing to feel comfortable in animality within humanity. What if we stopped repressing ourselves 🫶

[baeshijima]

thinking abt big cat mydei who loves to simply lay on you, wrapping his arms around your torso with his head either nestled in the crook of your neck or atop your chest to feel the rhythmic beats of your heart.

he loves the proximity between you, almost melding into one another if he believed hard enough, but what he adores even more is when you play with his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp or braiding his hair as he doesn’t even try to fight the sleep which pervades him in moments such as these.

[areolni]

based on @nicobear 's recent post (sorry if it's bad i don't usually plan when im writing)

-

It started with a letter. "Good morning," it said. "May your duties run smoothly." Signed by the knight, Sir Lancelot. Sonic looked at the neatly written letter, then the envelope with a perfectly golden wax seal, and back at the letter. All he felt was confusion and a hint of amusement as well. This was… completely unnecessary. He sees Lancelot every day, performing his duties like the obedient knight he was. Why the sudden letter?

Another letter appeared on his desk, now with a beautiful bouquet of lavender. It reminded the king of his rival back home, to no surprise. They were alternates of each other after all, hence their preferences would undoubtedly be similar. Sonic never failed to question the gifts, yet he decided against confronting the knight about them. Lancelot wasn't one to show affection outwardly, so Sonic supposed this was his way of showing it subtly. He smiled at the thought.

Yet another letter, this time during the annual ball – an invitation to dance in the castle gardens. What a lovely surprise. In the midst of greenery with fresh flora where petals, too, twirled and flowed gracefully in the wind, the king danced his worries away with his knight. Sonic felt the gentle touch of Lancelot against his hand as his warmth blessed him from the chilly night wind. The sound of carefree laughter filled the air.

The pair has become closer ever since. No one has ever seen such a reserved knight turn affectionate towards his king within a night. The subtle glances, the intentional brushing whenever they walked close, how Lancelot always seemed to pepper Sonic with soft, tender kisses… Sonic, too, felt strange. It wasn't unwelcomed though.

The dread of Sir Sonic's departure loomed over the kingdom of Camelot. Everyone was aware the day would soon arrive, much to their dismay. Sonic was not the perfect king, but he was truly someone magnificent to return this kingdom to its former glory. His stay was long overdue; it was time for him to leave.

"Here," Sonic spoke as the soft rattling of his gauntlet echoed through their ears. He slipped it off and placed it in Lancelot's hands, curling the knight's fingers as a silent hope to keep it safe. "For you to remember me. In case, y'know, Caliburn ever sleeps again. Treat it as my parting gift."

"Forgetting you is unfathomable," Lancelot replied. For a moment, he was certain his lungs had stopped working. "I will hold this close. Thank you. May we reunite in a distant realm."

"Ah… Don't treat this as a final goodbye, man." A snicker left the hero's lips, a palm resting against the knight's chest, right above his heart. "I'll be back. Don't know when but… I'll visit."

"Of course. For now, however…" Lancelot's words trailed off, swallowing the painful lump in his throat. The time has come to say goodbye to his beloved. His heart couldn't handle it. "This is farewell, Sir Sonic."

Sonic's smile nearly faltered for a brief second if he hadn't caught himself. He didn't want to leave, but he had to, no matter how much things have changed back in his realm. He missed his friends, his family, that stupid egghead… That was where he belonged.

"It's never goodbye. So… See ya later, Lance."

As the light of the portal dimmed and dissipated into thin air, Lancelot found himself clutching the gauntlet tightly. His bare fingers now intertwined with metal every night he slept, knowing that those same fingers would never hold him back. Despite how cold and devoid the piece of armor was against his fingers, he would always remind himself that his gauntlet was once filled with someone's warmth.

The thought of his beloved Sonic now living his true life running as free as the wind, was enough for Sir Lancelot to sleep soundly every night.

At least, he had a piece of his memory to hold on to.

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part three)

Part one, part two

I said I was on break but then a lot of things immediately fell out of my brain cause of stress so now I feel silly... sowweeeeee 🤡 Part four WILL be the last part I swear. If you see more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren from me after that (and da infodump if i get to it) genuinely tell me to shut the FUCK up!!!

yes i am probably writing the NSFW version it'll be in my compendium post if it happens

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Your resolve was getting harder to hold on to, but you kept it. This would be the last time. You couldn't part from heaven again after returning. Atonement was waiting for you, eternal devotion to your duty right after.

Another few weeks went by as you stayed with Ren a little longer, the sea of flowers outside your bedroom window changing little by little each day. So many of them were already fully blooming, most of their petals stretched open to show off a myriad of colors while others curled inwards to hide from you. Practically a taunting mockery with how they took their time. As if insulted you would dare leave once they painted the horizon with their beauty.

It made it all the more painful that you'd never see them again. Or the companion that now felt like a piece you'd been missing.

Something about that encroaching deadline had affected the devil, too. Ren was calmer in some ways. They still brought you gifts and knowledge like usual, but he seemed to be taking his time just like the flowers. Simple answers to your curiosities became thorough while he held you close and urged you to ask more questions about whichever object took interest. 

He'd offered to revisit trinkets you loved as well. Until you were as familiar with using them as he was. You couldn't understand it. 

Your time together was draining away by the second. Didn't they want to make exciting memories? No matter how much you enjoyed it, mastery over human instruments or crafts served no purpose. Heaven wouldn't let you bring those things home, nor could you ask a higher power to recreate them for leisure.

Maybe your love was in denial of your departure. Or maybe spending little mundane, quiet days and nights together like this was their way of coming to terms with it.

Today, you chose to fiddle with one of the oldest gifts while chatting with him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the room in the faded, flaming gold hue you'd only now gotten used to. 

“—Love?” He was calling you, the end of his tail swaying gently in front of your face to get your attention. You’d missed a few words.

“Hm?”

“You've gotten much better at this,” the pink haired devil hummed above you. His chin was resting atop your head as they cradled you in their lap on a frayed rug, his back against the bottom of the couch.

You looked over your work. The woven red string wrapped around and through your fingers took the shape of a pointed star. You knew real stars looked differently, but the human interpretation was interesting.

“Truly, it’s better than before,” you said with wholehearted agreement. The first time you'd tried—only on the third day of your visit to earth—had simply tangled the string to a knotted mess stuck upon your fingers for Ren to deal with while you apologized, embarrassed beyond belief. 

The patterns they taught you were almost easy thanks to your afternoon of trying. You unwound the string and painstakingly wound it again into one that often graced your practice: an angel. He'd been particularly smug about teaching you the motions of that one.

“An impressive self portrait,” Ren joked and squeezed you tighter in their embrace. “Although it'll take more than some thread to capture your divine beauty.”

Naturally, you rolled your eyes even though the soul it was meant for couldn't see it. A mortal gesture you'd gotten the hang of quicker than anything, as he so favored innocent teasing before expressing his deepest sincerities.

You untangled the string and tossed it to the side, then turned in their lap to make a face this time for their benefit. “I’ll do a painting, then. I’ve had enough of this toy.”

He relaxed his hold long enough for you to wander across the room in search of new distractions, but innocently called after you, “We’ll have to light quite a few candles for you to see well. Unless you plan to have me mix paints for you in the dark.” A second passed before he spoke again. “It’d be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.” 

“Something else?” you replied, making a swift turn towards the bookshelves. You came back with a couple of novels and sat beside them with your treasure. “Is this really all you want to do? You’ve read every book here before.” 

Even the books he’d bought with strange, flimsy paper currency for you, Ren had said so casually, were already familiar territory. Tedium hardly described how boring you thought these weeks must be for him. But he never objected to anything you chose, as long as you both stayed close to home during the day. 

And you always kept your wings hidden in case a human roamed nearby. You'd never seen one come close to the cabin, or even the field of flowers, but he insisted your safety—and proximity to them—was of utmost priority. It was hard to remember the last time you let loose your wings at all after walking on the beach with him. They interrupted your thoughts once more.

“My sweet, delicate angel, I’ve had all the time in the world to do anything I want.” Their blue eyes narrowed with a smile as they spoke and you knew more teasing was coming. “We could even sit here in silence all night, if you asked me nicely.”

“How kind of you, my darling demon,” you teased them back. 

Another jesting response in his gaze faded to something different as you pulled him down for a kiss, gently at first. The books you’d brought over lay forgotten, soon shoved under the couch in favor of your new activity.

Kissing the demon you called yours felt like second nature now. There was no sting that ever came, no homesick aching in your back anymore. Only the flood of tender emotions he gave you, tainted by your own guilt and fears of parting from him.

You needed more. A stronger distraction. Your hand on his shirt tightened, determined to keep him. To stay in this moment as long as possible.

Ren exhaled, a muttering of blasphemous praise you dare not repeat whispered from his lips to yours, along with one word. A word that sounded odd to your ears. 

You'd heard it countless times over the months, but it didn't feel strange until after the first kiss you shared. He must have said it earlier, too, when you were occupied with that damned little red string. Demonic language was much different, it certainly wasn’t that at all. And the sounds of the word did feel similar to mortal languages, but nothing came to mind. So naturally, you could only assume it to be another of their pet names, but…

The thought fell to the side as you focused on him. He was all that needed to matter right now.

Their comforting warmth that called of your sacred home, your nails curling into the bottom of his shirt just to fall lower, an iron, almost nectar-like taste that flowered on your tongue—did you bite him this time? It felt good. 

Desperately, you brushed your hand over his thigh, getting dangerously close to where you knew things risked going further. You caught yourself and froze. You wanted him, you’d known since that day in the rain. In every way a being could yearn for another’s love. And of course he felt the same. But could you really go home if it happened? 

“Before I…” The words hung in the air and what remained weighed in your throat. Before I leave. Departure was looming on the horizon, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. You dare not mention it to the one you loved again. You opened your eyes to meet theirs, cautiously as you wondered, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” they answered, longing clear as the evening sky in his voice. “I couldn’t bear—or ever want—to deny you. Little angel, all you desire of me is yours to take.”

Without another word you did just that. You thought nothing of the faint, staggered line you felt under your fingertips that seemed to start somewhere along his shoulder blade as you lifted the shirt away and pushed him to lay on the rug. Your hands pressed their ink-stained arms flat next to the disheveled mess of pink hair and horns. Ren grinned at your audacity to pin him, but held still for your much needed exploration. 

Eyes half lidded with patient lust, mouth parted to show off pointed fangs, the devil looked to be the very picture of your sinful desires.

To be one with them, even just once, was a memory worth making. No matter what punishment waited for you at heaven’s boundary. You skimmed your fingers from the base of his collarbone, down over their stomach, and began to undo the buttons that concealed what you’d been waiting for.

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[saturn-sends-hugs]

you ever think about echo and fives

you ever think about how, after rishi, all they had was each other. everything they knew, gone in an instant. except for each other.

you ever think about how they found a place for themselves in the 501st, slowly putting the pieces of their lives back together and finally feeling like they belonged somewhere, somewhere they were wanted and celebrated and loved. They found a family, people that had their backs, and they were able to just be. They could mess around and play and laugh with their brothers because who was gonna stop them??

you ever think that fives came back from the citadel, an empty space at his side, and couldn’t stand it? Couldn’t look at the places he’d thought were safe, couldn’t talk to the friends they’d made together because none of it was right without echo beside him?

you ever think that echo got out of the stasis chamber and just knew, the minute he wasn’t there, that fives was gone? and just like fives, the 501st just felt wrong without his twin? you think that’s why he couldn’t stay?

do you ever think that echo, used to being youngest and looking up to fives and now suddenly he’s the Older Brother in his new group, the one with experience, the one they should be looking up to, you think he felt out of place? watching the empire rise, watching brothers fall and realizing one day that, oh shit, he’s the responsible one. him, echo, one half of the most chaotic duo the 501st had ever seen is now the responsible one, and what the hell happened?

you ever think about how scary that would be? looking back at the life you had and not even getting the chance to mourn it because your new brothers need you, the world is falling apart and you’ve been through more than they have so you have to be the one to help them through it. looking back on the shiny he was and realizing he can never go back.

just. echo and fives.

anyway little league by conan gray is the most domino twins song in the world and my heart is trying to tear itself in half 🫠