#the absolute angst between them

[wrinkly-fucking-qtip]

Thinking about Svetlana and Mickey.

About how Mickey wasn't really seen at the reception party, likely stewing inside wanting to go anywhere else than staying at a made up party.

About the moment they had to have their "Honey Moon" night, maybe Svetlana felt somewhat excited, avoiding any thoughts about Mickey being reluctant to do anything, because, why wouldn't he want to? They just got married?

About Mickey committing to the bit at night and remembering how her warm insides felt the day he thought himself to be shattered beyond repair. How to make this go faster, because the sooner you're done, the faster thoughts fly to the back of your head.

About the nights where Mickey just lets her suck him off because whatever gets him closer to the action he had with Ian Gallagher. He takes a little longer to finish, but Svetlana doesn't want to doubt the skills that were enforced upon her, he was probably tired. But all the time? What could be wrong?

About her trying to sleep in the same bed and Mickey being so cold, turning his back to her. She voices no concern after sometime, grateful that at least she sleeps on the same bed as him.

Until the night where she doesn't.

About how you had to develop every sense of maternal instinct because you know no one will have your back, even tho that's what they promised you, and you believed it. But he is just as broken as you are.

About how they could've been a team if it wasn't for a malignant entity standing between them, pinning them against each other, a defenseless baby on the line.

About their first deep conversation after the night at the Alibi, especially about the boy that took her space in bed. She finally understood. Not that she couldn't before, but how could she when no one explained anything. Just do your job and carry a child.

About a kid she fought strong to protect. About a kid she worked hard to remove all stains from. Fate be damned, that he doesn't absorb Mickey's life, because Mickey never deserved his destructive life.

About what an absolute waste of a duo we had.

Many more feelings I have, but I'm tired rn.

[egophiliac]

Sorry, most likely my memory being poor, but I thought Malleus' mom (don't know how to spell her name and too lazy to check how to spell it) was already an adult when Lilia ""proposed""?? Like I was always under the assumption that it was like a one-sided child crush on somebody completely out of your league you tend to have as a kid 💀

I don't think they say how old she was? although it's entirely possible I just misunderstood; my Japanese is...shaky. :') the actual line is "幼い頃に私に求婚したのは偽りか?", which I read as "isn't it true that you proposed to me as a kid?", and took as her being older than him, but not necessarily an adult (like, I was thinking of Lilia as being not quite a preteen and Mel being preteen/young teen). although I don't know if there's a connotation or something I'm missing that implies a bigger age gap, if that makes sense!

(and of course, I might also just be forgetting some other line -- if someone else knows, then please correct me! I need to know which headcanons need adjusting 👀)

BUT YEAH in a canon-y sense, Malleus is 178 and around the third-years developmentally. which makes me think that even though dragons have a way longer lifespan, they go through childhood at about the same rate as most fae (or at least the kind that Lilia is) and just kinda...slow waaaaay down once they hit adulthood. so it makes sense in my brain that he and Meleanor could've basically grown up together!

...it makes it angstier that way, anyway. :)

[liebrenado]

@saimatsu-week Day 1: Chapter 1. "I'm sorry."

[linkedin-offficial]

home

[bylertruther]

yk. the resistance ppl have to so much as considering the idea that mike might not jump to immediately and enthusiastically engaging in obvious n indisputably gay shit with will publicly is kinda funny in a puzzling way when season three and season four, where he does exactly that the entire way through, are literally right there for us all to watch on netflix.com. like. Okay ❤️

[sharkfund]

what if i Dont want insane intense very niche and graphic smiling friends angst. what if i just want them to kiss and hang out and be funny. Why is that like a herculian writing task for ao3

[rapidhighway]

K I've been thinking about this for like a week now. Ignoring any immortal headcanons if you have them. Knuckles knows he's not going to be able to guard the Master Emerald forever and that probably troubles him, but, if he was dying do you think he'd ask Sonic to guard it? He's the person with a unique connection to Chaos and the Chaos Emeralds and he's basically chosen one the most specialest guy, and one of the few people Knuckles could trust with that duty.

Of course I think Sonic would say no. I think he'd never be able to do that and he wouldn't want to.

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 26

Continued directly from Day 16! A lighter day.

Content warnings for: implied alcohol dependency and slight suicidal ideation

Breakfast Table

“Mornin’, Payge.” They waved with a glass of orange juice. 

Nicolai had left him a bit of privacy this morning, considering the events of the previous night. He was grateful for it, and for the underarm crutch he’d been offered. 

You won’t want to put weight on that for a while, now. I broke my ankle a few years ago but kept the crutches.”

“Why?”

“The NHS paid for them. Figured I earned it.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“That’s an awful plain looking tequila sunrise. Just a mimosa this morning?” He grinned, slipping into the chair with a bit of effort and leaning the walking aid against the table. 

“Just orange juice with your pills. I’m afraid my liquor cabinet isn’t as… robust as yours.” A hint of judgment crept into Nicolai’s tone, but he paid it no mind.

“Pills? You know that’s not my style,” Payge laughed, voice scratching around exhaustion and exertion.

“Vitamin D, magnesium, and iron. They’ll help you heal up.”

The three pills sat next to his tall glass and he took a small sip to down each one.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to.” It was strange. To be pampered like this. His hands were trembling, probably for a number of reasons. 

“Make sure you finish the whole glass.” An appliance beeped somewhere behind them. “Ah! What do you take in your porridge?”

Nicolai jumped up and opened the microwave, carefully removing two steaming bowls and heaping one with apple slices and honey.

“I’m not especially picky, just… whatever you have?”

“Try again. What do you like?” they asked but Payge hesitated, unwilling to make their work harder.

“Pecans and maple syrup, but only if you’ve got it on hand, okay?”

They opened the fridge and shook the jar of halved pecans at him like they were enticing a dog with treats, but his growling stomach told him he wasn’t much better off. He watched them be sprinkled on, swirled with syrup, and topped with a pinch of brown sugar.

“You really shouldn’t have, Nic. You didn’t do much good scraping me off death’s door, of all people.”

“I wouldn’t call it the door. You were on its porch, maybe. In the garden, more like,” they shrugged, setting a bowl at each placement. Nicolai perched back on their chair. 

“I can’t imagine she’d have much use for that,” he laughed, earning a smile in return. “Does she grow bones from scratch?”

“Maybe she grows flowers to decorate her favorite graves.” They hadn’t taken a bite yet, but Payge’s gaze weighed heavy on breakfast. A flourish of the spoon told him it was alright to go ahead.

He held back as well as he could from scarfing down each and every morsel, instead taking heaping spoonfuls and throwing back the juice. A mild improvement. 

“I’ll be out of your hair by the evening, by the way. Just might need a moment to arrange a ride,” he murmured into perfect oats. 

“Er, no. Absolutely not.”

“What?”

“You’re grievously injured, your bike’s still in the shop, and you shouldn’t be walking to work.” Nicolai counted out each reason on a finger. “And you clearly won’t take care of yourself.”

“I’ll stay over somewhere else. I can’t go and burden you like this out of nowhere, Nic! We weren’t even close enough to meet one on one before all this.”

“And yet I was the only one to show up yesterday.” They tilted their head. “Would anyone closer have stopped for you?”

He swallowed hard. Would they?

“Maybe.”

“Stay. I’ll put you back together, Payge.”

[averlym]

pleaaase may i have 28 and 29 aramour angst ✨ i crave it

28: “Move out of my way before I make you.” // 29: “You deserve better.” (prompt list here)

click for better quality!

[gumm1defloor]

Personally speaking if I had to pick one rairpair out of the entire hellaverse to become canon it would be Velvette x Verosica but man it is going to be the most lavish, fluffy, intensely intimate, passionate, rancid & disastrous 24/7 trending full blown shitstorm hell has ever seen I don't think anyone is going to be ready. Not even these two. Dear god especially not these two.

Man Verosica is just 2 for 1 on short gremlin kings who are also coincidentally emotionally constipated walking talking sacks of untreated mental illnesses wrapped up in 3 layers of intimacy issues isn't she but hey at least this one's pretty much guaranteed never to steal your credit card for horse riding lessons and most definitely won't be caught one ring down in wrath in the middle of fuck knows where with said credit card so.... yay improvement?

[non-un-topo]

Talking to my sister can be one of the most aggravating experiences

[astranauticus]

tbh if i really had to articulate the difference between yoo joonghyuk and kim dokja to me because both of them drive me absolutely insane but it's like. i want to draw yoo joonghyuk i want to put kim dokja in a little terrarium and carry him in my pocket. yjh gives me endless art ideas kdj gives me absolutely deranged analysis-adjacent thoughts i cannot possibly hope to articulate

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Can I get something romantic between warlord longan and dread trident sea fairy? (Both are lesbians)

The ocean was deeper than they remembered. Long did the trenches at the bottom of the ocean extend, ever darker and ever deeper, ever heavier as it pressed down upon them. They felt it in their scales as they breathed and as they moved, even though the dim trill of magic still hummed in their lungs and prolonged their life. They weren't a swimmer, but they swam now, in search of anything that existed anymore, even if it wasn't gilded gold or ever touched by the rays of the sun.

They didn't know what they were looking for. Something alive? --Certainly, the ocean here teamed with its own particular breed of life. Ancient fish and creatures whose shapes held up under this oppressive pressure, who were both clear and glimmered with their own particular brand of bioluminescence whose purpose served to lure prey closer. They would have to struggle less to find food in the dark that way.

Or something ancient and forgotten? There were many shipwrecks in the ocean, pirate ships and cargo boats that found themselves a necessary end. Cookie skeletons slumbered at the bottom of the sea, sugar bones cracked and frayed and perhaps nothing by now, if the years of observing the whalefall were anything to take into account. A ship didn't harbor as necessary an ecosystem as a whale did. Cookies were too small--too insignificant--to matter much down here. And that was only if their bodies made it down this deep in the first place.

They spent years diving the depths of the world, taking in the wildlife that existed subservient to dragons. They found Sugarteara and tore it to pieces mightily, cookies and shrapnel sharp upon their tongue, coral buildings torn to pieces by tail and claw. They hadn't caught every Sugartearan cookie in the slaughter. Some of them, even, managed to flee, scattered across the ocean like motes of dust in a high wind.

Perhaps that's what Longan Dragon Cookie was searching for: The survivors.

Fish, treasure, or stragglers... It was impossible to tell anymore.

Their eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness that permeated so deep without the aid of a dim, golden magic. Their lythe, draconic form wound its way, serpentine, ever deeper, twisting into the underwater canyons and gullies below. Their claws scraped against the smooth stone walls worn away by a millena of salty current and water wear.

They could hear their nails scratching at its surface more clearly now than ever--the noise was louder under the water, and the dense pressure only served to amplify it. They could almost hear their very own bones creaking and hear the shifting of their leathery scales rubbing against each other. They could hear the ichor flowing in them from the tip of their nose to the tip of their tail.

And they heard the sound of nothing--nothing, that was, except the sound of pressure, the noise of the ocean itself breathing.

They snuffled their snout against the earth at their side, snorted, and dug their claws in deeper, determined to leave their mark. They were here. And in a million years, they would come back and leave this mark down here again, fresh and deep, because there was nothing left to do. The world was empty.

The world was quiet.

At the bottom of the trench lay a gently swirling expanse of dusky sea brine, of which the haze beneath concealed the true bottom of the ocean floor. Longan Dragon Cookie paused here, golden eyes shining light and making the cloudy mass almost seem to glow with an apparent halo. It looked like the sunlight reflecting off of the clouds, only salty, wet, and dense. This was where the heaviest matter collected at the bottom of the ocean. Testily, Longan Dragon Cookie extended their paw, reaching inside to press down to find there was no immediate ground to stand upon. The trench extended deeper than life and deeper than sight.

A noise reverberated all around them suddenly, echoing loudly off of the ever-narrow walls of the trenches and leaving a dim ripple of water flowing east in its wake. It sounded like the ocean--not something cracking and breaking all at once, falling to the bottom of the ocean floor, but moreso the humming of an ancient song, one that only Earthbread itself could possibly know. Something about it seemed familiar to Longan, though they couldn't quite place it.

Longan twisted their head in the direction of the noise, bracing themself upon the precipice that dipped into the briney sea, weighted down upon by pressure and cold. For all their sense of sight, they couldn't see particularly far ahead of themself. It probably wouldn't have done much in the first place.

The noise didn't stop. It rumbled within the earth, tingling their claws and sending shivers down the length of their body, from the tip of their nose to the tip of their tail. It shuddered in the air with every ancient note, a siren's call that sang an ancient song of love.

To investigate or to draw themself back?

Well. Longan Dragon Cookie had conquered the world with a mighty swiftness and resolve, dragging the world from a golden age of pathetic, crumbling cookies to the golden age of dragons sprang anew. If life could exist, even down here--if this was a song being sang by a cookie of any form--even if it seemed unlikely that any cookie life could exist this far down, they knew what they had to do.

Powerful legs and a serpentine body snaked its way through the water, defying the laws of gravity, twisting its way through the current. The noise only grew louder, raising in volume, not for lack of becoming louder on its own but for how distant it apparently was. It followed the sea of brine--a sea so long that at some point, they were willing to call it a giant's river instead. The darkness was cold, and it was difficult to see farther than a short distance ahead of them. They found themself hugging the wall of the trench more often than they didn't.

They didn't know how long they swam. Hours, perhaps--it felt like it might have been days. Time was impossible to measure down here, unless one wanted to waste the effort to keep count of seconds and minutes and hours themself. Longan was not one of those creatures. After all, they had all the time in the world now.

As they swam, the taste of the brine seemed to grow thicker, punctuating the water with a taste so dense one could choke on it. They thought at first they were hallucinating how the brine seemed to rise as they traveled, but eventually there came a time that even they had to admit they were wrong.

They traveled for many hours--until, finally, a most peculiar sight met their eyes: A wall of brine, filtering slowly down, in a manner not dissimilar to a waterfall. Longan Dragon Cookie sniffed at the air, magically artificial gills flaring, head lifting in defiance of gravity. Gravity itself threatened to pull them under for how much the water tried to strangle them--they had to kick their feet with great aggression to not sink deeper before they were ready.

The song by now had stopped, the water stilling with the silence of nothing save the beating of a dragon's heart and the breathing of the ocean. Longan gazed upward, estimating the likelihood that the brine was pouring from somewhere above. It was easier to go down than it was go go up, they decided--and besides, it's not like they had anywhere to go but up or back the way they came, anyway. Twisting their body to face upwards, they began to swim in the serpentine manner that their cousins swam upon the air in the far-off tundra.

They thought of their corpses, intermingled in the midst of a fierce battle that ended up leaving the earth flowing red with the flow of dragon jam. They died protecting each other--protecting the cookies that they saw fit worthy to protect--and for what? Nobody would remember them now except as the villains who stood in the way of the re-emergence of the glory of dragons. It was a fitting end for the greater good. They knew not the forces they toyed with.

After a long, long while of swimming upward, taking rest at perches they found along the way, eventually they found they could rise no more. The brine filtered in from somewhere in the cavern wall, which meant there was a hole that led elsewhere. Longan Dragon Cookie's tail lashes furiously, glowering at the brine that drifted steadily downward and tumbled upon itself in slow motion. What a waste of time, they thought with disgust. And they were about to leave when all at once the song of the sea resonated once again.

It was louder here--loudest, even. The source of the noise seemed to come from wherever the source of this brine was.

Longan's tail thrashed, body dancing contemplatively before the brine. Fine, they eventually concluded. They'd come this far. What would be the point if they retreated now? Taking a deep breath of water, Longan Dragon Cookie flattened their gills shut (a feat that wasn't easy and took a great deal of concentration in itself) and dove forward.

It was very thick--so thick, it was viscous. The tunnel they twisted through was large enough to fit their body, but it was impossible to see and seemed even more impossible to work through. More than once, Longan found themself pausing, taking a moment to register from what direction the brine came by sensing the dim pull of the current. It seemed to bring them ever-upward. They held their breath so long that their lungs burned. They held their breath for so long that they had to breathe, and they sucked in water that was more salt than it was water and half as fluid. It burned in their gills, sharp and painful, rubbing the fragile flesh beneath raw and tender.

The song was still singing when Longan breached the surface of the brine, clawing their way through the final gap and finding themself finally drifting above it all. They opened their gills and breathed, heavy at first, and then softer. Already, they found themself bring dragged down by gravity once more, but it felt easier to move from where they currently rested, though it was no less difficult to see. There was no light here--none from above--though looking down, the brine on the ocean floor seemed to glow the palest of teals.

The song rocked softly, so loud that their head buzzed from the noise. It sounded louder to their right, so they angled their head in that direction and began to swim to investigate.

They drifted close. Closer. The golden light shining off of their eyes illuminated what lay ahead dimly, until they could see the face of what looked to be some kind of statue--the statue of the beautiful face of a young woman, one who looked so distantly familiar, Longan could swear they should have been able to remember her name. And yet the song of the sea seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within the statue, playing like the distant memory of a lullaby.

Before Longan could think too much of it, the statue suddenly moved. Soft, quiet eyes suddenly stared back at them, and the music that the sea had been singing all this time faded all at once.

Longan flinched backwards for a moment, alarmed, but didn't draw too far back. Recognition snapped into place in their mind all at once--the song of the sea a song that sailors used to sing on the ocean when they missed their loved ones at home. The thick sea of brine that twisted like rivers in the trenches of the sea, the very same brine that fell from her head like hair. The tale of the Sea Fairy, how she loved the moon so fiercely she never stopped trying to reach the cookie she loved, until finally she did and disappeared thousands of years ago.

This was where she disappeared to.

She stared at them for a long moment, the living embodiment of water staring deeply into their own eyes with a chronic lack of fear that either came from ignorance or dismissal. The brine glowed stronger now, as if awoken from a deep sleep of its own, shimmering a cold teal and allowing Longan to finally see for the first time in what felt like weeks.

She was silent. They were, too.

"I thought you were somebody else for a moment," Sea Fairy murmured, her eyes drooping tiredly. The glow of the ocean floor eased, but didn't go away entirely.

Longan answered: "The depths of the ocean is far too deep for any light from the sky to reach."

"I know," came the quiet answer--quiet, though it still trembled loudly in the air. She shifted, her eyes sliding away from them and drifting to the side, a spark of some unnameable emotion Longan never cared to consider slipping onto her face for a moment.

"So this," Longan Dragon Cookie noted, gazing about the empty ocean themself, "is where you have been hiding all of this time, brooding because you could never reach the unreachable dreamer." It wasn't a question--it was a statement of fact.

Sea Fairy hummed, the sound not dissimilar to the song they'd heard in their search to find the source. The song of love. Were Longan Dragon Cookie not fully aware of just whose domain they resided in, they likely would have scoffed.

"You have dived quite deep," she murmured finally, "to have come here." Carefully, her eyes slipped back over to them, her brow lightly furrowed as she gazed upon the comparatively small dragon. "I wish that you hadn't."

"I certainly didn't descend these depths to find you," Longan proclaimed, searching the ocean floor for a distant island that could be deemed at a safe distance. There was none. "I followed the sound of the sea's song of love, and it brought me here. That is all."

"What are you doing so deep in the first place?" she asked, moving. Longan Dragon twisted back, scowling, but she continued to move her arm, slowly extending a cupped hand, assumedly for them to perch upon. As if they would. "You're no manner of sea dragon."

The bubbles rose from Longan's snout in a shimmering gesture, eyes shifting from hand to face to general demeanor. Her hair fell slowly in waves, blanketing the bottom of the ocean floor in a salty teal that glowed with the power of her magic. Somehow it made her seem paler, framing her face and making it almost seem to glow like the face of the moon on a clear night--all except for her eyes, dark and carefully neutral like the depths of a somber sea.

She was beautiful, they thought.

"I could ask the same," they answered briskly, turning their head aside but still keeping their eye on the waking legend. "But we already know that reason. Don't we?"

Sea Fairy Cookie blinked.

"Is that why you're here, then?" she asked, voice humming like the the curling currents. "To relish in fate's decision to leave you lonely?"

Longan Dragon opened their mouth to speak, but paused, grimacing--an out-of-character action that took them by surprise. But there was something to it that troubled them, rearing its ugly head and hissing with agony and frustration. For several long moments, Longan Dragon Cookie puzzled over it, eyes flickering slowly and warily over the oceanic hue surrounding them.

And then it hit them.

'Alone'.

In all of Longan Dragon Cookie's efforts to expunge the world of all cookie life, they've found themself alone. In electing to live their life in accordance to the superiority of dragonkind, they've also turned away from their very own family--their dragon kin, their brood, their heart. How disgustingly attached to mortal musings they had been. How spiteful and angry they were to turn Longan's vision for the future away.

They'd seen these events unfold. They knew this song and dance. As far as they were concerned, it was worth a millennium of loneliness, if it meant destroying the cookies who were destroying the world and the legacy left behind by dragons everywhere.

But now they were facing the consequences.

And here they were, facing the unforeseen--a living goddess hiding beneath the sea, for a thousand years hence, unable to face her own loneliness in her longing for the sleeping moon.

Briskly, Longan's tail thrashed back and forth, claws digging into the stone to keep themself rooted in place. "I made my decision long ago," they hissed, vile and contemptuous, turning their head to glare at the queen of the sea. Such a shame that it wasn't quite so easy to turn the very sea itself into stone.

She met their gaze for a long, silent moment that was only as silent as a dragon's heart beat. It was only as silent as the static noise of the ocean floor. Somewhere leagues away, a whale hit the bottom of the ocean floor, alone and dead.

She closed her eyes and shifted her head, the light of her magic flickering subtly.

"I did, as well," she whispered. "A long, long time ago."

She really was beautiful, Longan decided. They wondered whether the moon saw her face looking up toward the sky, eyes meeting eyes in desperate want to hold her hands and dance together rather than miles upon miles away from each other. Had Moonlight seen her--seen her reaching out her hands toward the sky from atop her tower, trying to do something so small as to be acknowledged once more by her love?

Or had Moonlight merely slept through it all, peaceful and unawares, as uncaring to the sea's pull as a cream wolf was to it's freshly-killed meal?

"Perhaps," Sea Fairy breathed, drawing Longan grudgingly from their thoughts, "if you don't mind... perhaps we can be lonely together. Just for a while."

She lifted her hand once again. Unlike her face, it was dark, like the abyss of the sea swallowed the light and refused to grant it purchase. They hadn't noticed it when she lifted her hand before, and they hadn't noticed when she moved her hand back to her side.

Dubiously, Longan turned their attention toward her face once more, taking in the expression of her eyes, the movements of her face. Perhaps she was trying not to sound desperate. Who knew how long she'd spent in these depths in an exile of her own making, cold and alone?

Who knew how long it'd take for Longan to find company of their own, in the world above the sea where their pairs of eyes could see?

They knew.

"Very well," they scoffed. "If only for a time."

Gradually, they lifted themself up and swam to Sea Fairy's waiting hand. They nestled there uneasily, muscles tense and poised to spring away at the slightest sense that danger was afoot. But her hand didn't move, and it was oddly warm to be held by the hand of a cookie god where the sun never touched and warmth only came from volcanic vents along the sea floor.

They hoped, then, that they didn't sound desperate.

[akkivee]

she wasn't the best mama

but she was kuukou's

[cinnamondumbb]

okay so i've been thinking a LOT about the next avatar sequel , 'avatar: the seed bearer' and , as we all know , if you don't then SPOILER ALERT , neteyam is going to (most likely) be resurrected on that film + the protagonists will meet a new tribe called the ash people .

that is enough for me to make one hundred scenarios between neteyam and a member of the ash people (maybe the first child of their olo'eyktan), i've even picked out a name for them , i'm so invested in this !

p.s.: james cameron said that he will take a different direction w the ash people from what he did w the omaticaya & metkayina , he wants the na'vi as 'bad guys' this time , so imagine . . . the enemies -> lovers i'm dead

(omg i developed a whole story in the tags during my feverish fangirl moment)

[fulcrum-art-fox]

Ok I’m kind of obsessing over Miriam gripping Hira’s scarf when she says the line “I’ve made mistakes. But they were mine. I chose them.” The way it rings differently rewatching knowing the twist. Knowing what Hira has done. Hira as one of those mistakes one of those things that didn’t work out but it still mattered that it was something she chose, a relationship she chose. I need a minute