#water and writing

[thepileofclothesonyourdesk]

"We have a new AI feature!" "With the power of AI..." "Our AI..."

I am going to abandon technology and start only inscribing things on clay tablets

[proxycrit]

LINKTOBER Day 16: Lanayru Wetlands

Rumors have it Zora’s Domain is besieged by caustic rains. As travelers leave Lanayru’s capital in troves, two plucky (or foolish) adventurers swim against the muddy tide in hopes to learn more about the unnatural phenomenon.

Anyways, it’s raining mud? What’s up with that.

(FAMILIAR FAMILIAR AU is a totk what if passion project where zelda does not get sent back in time. Here’s the masterpost!)

And my patreon, if you’d like to slide me some bucks to buy lunch;

[mournfulroses]

Mary Oliver, from a poem titled "White Heron Rises Over Black Water," featured in Devotions: Poems

[robo-writing]

How different Logan’s would eat you out <3

X1, X2, and X3

✦A mix between ravenous and romantic. He wants you to know just how much you’re loved, and he expresses that by how long he can eat your pussy without stopping. savoring each and every movement from you, he actually enjoys when you lose control and tighten your legs around his head, moaning something along the lines of you’ll be the death of me as he laps at your cunt.

Your thighs quake around his head, hands in his hair as you look down at him. He’s having the time of his life, licking at your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll do in this life, pulling you down and forcing you to sit right on his face.

“Don’t need air, stay,” he mumbles, eyes looking up at you. “Just stay here for me sweetheart.”

You want to protest but goddamn does he make it hard for you, especially when his hands grip the fat of your ass and grind you onto his lips. Higher and higher, you feel your orgasm taking hold with each movement.

“Logan, gonna come,” you whine, and he pushes you as far down as you can go.

“Come on my face doll,” he groans, tonguing at your shaking entrance. “Get my face nice and wet, yeah?”

Origins Wolverine

✦Lovey dovey sickeningly sweet romantic sex; down for anything as long as you’re involved. Sit on his face? Gladly. Pull your legs over his shoulders? Just say when. The kind of lover whose heart skips a beat every time he sees you naked like it's the first time, despite the fact that you're married with a house. Speaks to your pussy as if it’s separate from you.

“How’s my girl doing? Doing alright?”

Your answer is a moan, your pussy clenching around nothing. Logan smiles at your response, thumb stroking up to press against your sensitive clit.

“Yeah, doing just fine ain’t you?” He breathes, kissing the hardened nub before returning to suck on it, your legs shaking in response. “And my other girl’s nice and ready ain’t she?”

“Baby,” you whine, desperate to cum. He’s edged you for as long as possible and you’re almost certain if you wait any longer you’ll actually die. Thankfully Logan grants you mercy, tightening his hold on your thighs as he focuses all his effort into making your pussy leak on his face.

“Come for me sweetheart,” he groans, and you do. Fingers digging into the sheets, you feel your orgasm take hold as Logan wrings every ounce of pleasure he can, kissing at your thighs when your overstimulated pussy can’t take any more.

You barely catch your breath before he speaks to your cunt, admiring how your come trails down your thighs.

“There she is,” he chuckles, index finger slowly collecting the remains of your juices, admiring how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. “Nice and satisfied, ain’t she?”

DOFP Logan

✦Second biggest munch. Running from danger constantly doesn’t make a lot of time for sex so whenever he finds the rare opportunity to do so best believe he’s jumping at it. Likes to joke that he’s started to go grey because he can’t fuck you as often as he likes. Truly eats you out like he needs your pussy more than he needs air.

“Need to be quiet baby,” he growls, pinning your thrashing hips against the wall. “You’re going to get us caught.”

It’s one of the rare days when you’ve found a safe house, even rarer that it’s just you and Logan alone for once. One look at his face and you already knew what was running through that adamantium skull of his, dragging you away to the nearest closet where you’ve been for god knows how long—the concept of time always seems to leave you wherever Logan’s talented mouth is involved.

You’re biting at your hand to muffle your moans but it’s still not enough, free hand tangled in his graying strands as an anchor. You can see his eyes roll back at the feeling, sloppily kissing up your pussy.

“God I wanna hear you,” he moans. “I’d give anything to fuckin’ hear you baby, but you’ve gotta behave for me. Don’t want anyone else seein’ this.”

The scene is something straight out of a porno—your legs hooked over his shoulders as he eats your cunt feverishly, the filthy sounds he makes with each movement, your hips desperately chasing his mouth—you wish this could never end.

70s Logan

✦By far the most selfish, he eats you out for his pleasure alone. He doesn’t give a damn if you’re crawling away, he will pull you back and lock his lips around your clit until you’re damn near thrashing in his arms, grinding against the mattress because that's just how hard he is. He won’t apologize for making you pass out, nor will he stay the night, but if he likes you enough you might find a card on your nightstand with his number hastily scribbled onto it.

When you decided to bring tall, dark, and grumpy home you didn’t expect it to end with tears running down your face, practically begging for a reprieve that won’t come. His hands lock together, forcing you still as he eats you out, not giving a damn about how pathetic you sound.

“Quit fuckin’ squirming,” he grunts, nosing at your pussy. “Lemme enjoy this.”

The man is talented, that’s a fact. Knows just how to push your buttons in all the right ways, but the problem is that he’s pushed your buttons nearly three times already and you’re almost certain his beard is going to give you the worst rash you’ve ever had.

But damn it if he isn’t responsible for some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

“Logan, fuck—lemme take a break,” you’re begging at this point, slapping at his shoulders when he doesn’t let up. Your breath catches in your chest when he smacks your thigh roughly in response, smiling against your pussy when he feels you clench in response.

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself,” he mocks, showing just how true his words ring when his fingers rub circles against your clit.

You swear you can feel any coherent thoughts leak out of your ears, focused solely on coming. It’s embarrassing how well he plays your body like a fine tuned instrument, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you’re squirting a mess onto your mattress.

“There we go, ain’t that a sight?” He laughs, pulling you closer towards his face. “Now, be a good little slut and behave while I enjoy my meal, okay?”

Old Man Logan

✦#1 munch and it’s not even close. When his job leaves him tired and his body is sore he finds comfort between your legs, it’s the only time he can turn his brain off and drown himself in you. He’s so fucking starved that he’ll genuinely get lost in his own headspace and ignore your thrashing and whining just to wring another orgasm from your tired body. Kisses your labia and mutters how she's such a pretty pussy as you're trying to catch your breath.

Logan didn't even bother to shed his clothes, making a beeline directly to you the moment he stepped inside your shared home. Dirt still settled on his skin, his head nestled into the crook of your neck as your bodies sway within the closed off kitchen. "Missed me, huh?" you ask, his sigh answer plenty. "Always miss you princess," he whispers, pulling you closer. He lifts you up with warning, sitting you down on the countertop, kneeling between your dangling legs. His beard tickles your bare skin, pulling you close enough to place a kiss onto your pussy, right over the fabric of your panties. "Fuck," you sigh. "You really missed me." His smile is infectious, nuzzling against your fabric-covered core. He kisses you through it for a while before peeling off the moistened garment, thumbs reaching to stroke your pussy. The sight makes your skin hot, hands tangled in his hair. "Been waiting all fuckin' day for this," he moans, spreading you apart and indulging in your juices. "Can tell you were waiting for me too." You feel your body melt with every touch, Logan's hands an anchor as he makes out with your heat, nose bumping against your clit with each movement.

Worst Logan

✦Still trying to wrap his head around you wanting to be with him, but goddamn if he isn’t grateful. Reverent, like a sinner at an alter. Your word is law, likes it when you pull him by the hair and show him where you need it, loves it when you tell him how good he’s doing, presses himself further into your pussy when you’re ready to come. It's all about you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You lovingly stroke his hair, back arching when he kisses your clit oh so gently.

“Lemme take a look at you,” you ask, and the sight of him is enough to make you come.

Face red, blushing so hard it reaches his chest, eyes so glazed over with lust his pupils leave nothing but small rings of green in his eyes. You cradle his face and the weight of his head falls into them immediately, chasing your touch.

“Gonna make me feel good, aren’t you?” You ask, and he nods his head, kissing your palm.

“Lemme taste you baby,” he whispers. “Swear to god I’ll make you feel good.”

“Never doubted you for a second Logan,” you whisper back, tugging his head back to your soaked cunt. He breathes in your scent, fucking groans at the sight of your pussy before he descends on it, noisily showing you just how much he meant his words.

“Fuckin’ delicious baby, so fuckin’ wet,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He only gets louder when you pull him forward by the hair, rough hands leaving a mark where his fingers grip your skin.

[flwrkid14]

Ghosts of Gotham: Tim Drake is a Halfa

Danny wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when he met Gotham’s infamous vigilantes, but “Red Hood smells like death and swamp water had a baby” definitely wasn’t on the list. The moment he stepped into the room, Danny gagged so hard he nearly fell out of the air.

“Holy Ancients,” he wheezed, covering his nose. “What in the name of all things unholy is that?”

Jason, already not thrilled about the random glowing stranger showing up, tilted his helmeted head. “What’s what?”

“That! You! You smell like—oh, man. I can’t even describe it.” Danny waved his hand in front of his face like it might help. “It’s like if ectoplasm went rancid and then you rolled in it for three days straight. Dude, do you know what’s going on with your ecto-situation?”

Jason took a threatening step forward. “You wanna say that again?”

Danny floated higher, clearly not intimidated. “Oh, I’ll say it again. You stink. And not just like regular stink. Like ghost stink. Like, ‘this is a health code violation, and the Ghost Zone is going to fine you’ stink. How are you even standing there right now? Anyone from Amity Park would be side-eyeing you so hard you’d feel it in your soul—what’s left of it, anyway.”

Jason stared, his body language radiating murderous intent. “You are two seconds away from eating pavement, Casper.”

Danny, unbothered, pointed at his own chest. “Excuse me, Phantom. Casper wishes he could pull this look off.”

“Phantom,” Dick interrupted, trying and failing not to laugh, “maybe we could focus on the introductions first?”

Danny gave Jason one last look of pity and floated down. “Fine, fine. But seriously, Big Red, we’re going to have to talk about that. I’ll fix it later. No need to thank me.”

Jason looked ready to commit murder, but Bruce’s glare cut him off before he could say anything.

Once the chaos settled, introductions were exchanged, and things calmed down—relatively speaking. Danny, as it turned out, was impossible to fully calm down. He buzzed around the room like he had endless energy, chatting and throwing out quips that seemed to simultaneously amuse and irritate everyone.

Then Danny’s gaze landed on Red Robin, and everything shifted.

Danny tilted his head, his glowing green eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, his usual chaos quieted, curiosity taking over. “Huh,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Tim stiffened, his body going taut as though preparing for impact.

Danny floated closer, peering at him with an unnervingly intense expression. “You’re like me.”

Tim’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately stepped back, his movements sharp and jerky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Danny said, and his tone was too soft for the others to hear the shift in it. “You’re like me. You’re—”

Tim’s hand twitched at his side, as though debating whether to reach for something or retreat entirely. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice low.

Danny blinked, then realization dawned on his face. “Wait… they don’t know, do they?”

“What don’t we know?” Bruce cut in, his voice sharp with suspicion.

Danny ignored him, his gaze locked on Tim. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Tim’s eyes darted toward Danny, his frown deepening as uncertainty clouded his features. He shifted his weight, his fingers twitching at his sides as if fighting the urge to bolt.

He took a step back, then another, his movements slow and almost imperceptible. His breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as though the air itself had grown heavier. The space around him seemed to shimmer faintly, a distortion that matched the anxiety rippling across his face.

Danny reached out, concern etched in his expression, but Tim flinched. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, the shimmering intensified, and with each passing second, Tim grew more translucent, his form fading like a mirage under the moon.

By the time Danny blinked, Tim was gone, leaving only a faint disturbance in the air where he had been.

The bats froze, their eyes darting around the room.

“What the hell just happened?” Jason demanded, reaching for his guns. “Where’d he go?”

“Did you do something?” Damian snapped at Danny, his hand already on his katana.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Danny held up his hands, his eyes wide with excitement. “Not me! That was all him! Holy Ancients—he can turn invisible?!” A grin split his face as he practically vibrated in place. “This is awesome! Wait—does he shoot ecto-beams too? Or, oh, what if he’s got some crazy transformation I’ve never even seen before? This just keeps getting better!”

Bruce’s expression darkened. “You need to explain. Now.”

Danny sighed, his excitement fading as realization set in. “Okay, but first, I need to go find him. Because if he’s anything like me, he’s probably freaking out right now. So… bye!”

He phased through the floor before anyone could stop him.

———

Danny found Tim perched on the edge of Wayne Industries, staring out at the Gotham skyline. He floated over cautiously, his boots touching down softly on the rooftop.

“Hey,” Danny said, his voice quiet. “Mind if I sit?”

Tim didn’t respond, but he didn’t tell him to leave either, so Danny took that as permission. He sat down cross-legged, giving Tim some space.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence heavy but not unbearable.

Finally, Danny broke it. “Okay, so… not to ruin the moment, but can we talk about how you've had to endure Jason’s ecto-stench this entire time? Because seriously, that’s gotta be a health violation. I mean, I'm half-dead, and even I think it’s concerning. Someone needs to dunk him in a pool of purified ectoplasm or something. I’m gonna file a complaint with—”

Tim laughed. It was soft and brief, but it was real.

Danny grinned, leaning back on his hands. “There it is. I knew you had a laugh in there somewhere.”

Tim sighed, his shoulders loosening slightly. “You’re… a lot,” he admitted.

“I know,” Danny said proudly. “But I grow on people. Like mold. Or fungus.”

Tim huffed another laugh, shaking his head. For a moment, the tension eased, and Danny let the silence settle again before speaking more seriously.

“Look,” Danny said, his voice softer, “I’m sorry I outed you like that. I didn’t know. And if they give you crap about it, I’ll personally make their lives miserable. But… you’re not alone in this, okay? I mean, yeah, it sucks. A lot. But you’ve got me now, because there’s no way we’re not becoming best friends now, and I get it.”

Tim looked at him, his eyes glassy but steady. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Do you really get it? I mean, you know what it’s like to…” His voice trailed off, thick with hesitation.

Danny tilted his head, his tone softer now. “Yeah. I know what it’s like.”

Tim let out a breath, shaky but determined. “I died.. a few months ago.”

Danny blinked but didn’t say anything, giving Tim space to continue.

“Harley—she caught me. Took me, actually. I was gone for weeks. They—she—handed me over to Joker. It was like a… gift. She thought it’d fix their relationship or something, I don’t know.” Tim’s voice faltered, his gaze flickering to the floor as if the memories were too much to hold. “I held out as long as I could. I kept fighting, kept trying to survive, but…”

He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Weeks of it. Beatings. Electrocutions. I don’t even remember the exact moment my heart stopped. I just… wasn’t there anymore.”

Danny stayed quiet, his face a mix of empathy and understanding.

“Harley panicked,” Tim continued, his words tumbling out like a confession. “She thought she’d gone too far, that Joker would kill her next. So she tried shocking me back. Guess she half-suceeded? I only came back halfway.” He gestured at himself vaguely, his hands trembling. “I’m not the same. I’m not… whole.”

Danny nodded slowly. "You’re stuck between," he said, offering the words with quiet reassurance.

Tim nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah. Between.” He paused, looking up at Danny. “I haven’t told anyone because… how do you tell them something like that? How do you tell your family you’re not really alive? That their search was all in vain? That I still died, even though they looked so hard for me? I can’t make them think they failed.” His voice wavered. “They were so scared when they found me…”

Danny stayed with him in the silence, his presence a steady comfort.

Tim exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. “I thought I was weak. I thought if I told them what really happened, they’d think I was broken. And I didn’t want to be a burden.” He looked up at Danny. “I’m still not used to this. Not used to being… like this. I don’t even know how to control it—sometimes I phase through walls, other times I get stuck halfway. And the invisibility thing… I can’t even make it work without disappearing when I get too emotional.”

Danny’s gaze softened with understanding as he leaned in slightly, his voice steady but gentle. He hummed thoughtfully, “It’s a lot to handle all at once.”

Tim's shoulders slumped as he leaned closer to Danny, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to control it, but every time I get close, something goes wrong. And I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak or… freakish, so I kept pretending everything was fine. It was easier that way. Easier than explaining… all this.” He exhaled slowly, the exhaustion in his voice evident. “At least it was… until you showed up.”

Danny reached out, resting a hand on Tim’s arm in a quiet gesture of comfort. “I don’t think you’re a freak. You’re just different, like me. But that doesn’t make you broken. You’re still you.” He paused, meeting Tim’s gaze. “I know what it’s like.. to feel different, freakish, the whole nine yards. For what it’s worth? You're handling it a lot better than I did.”

Tim gave him a tight smile, the first real one in a while. “Thanks. It helps. More than you know.”

———

When they returned to the Batcave, Tim sat down with the others, Danny sticking close by his side. Tim took a deep breath and told them everything—about being captured by Harley, the weeks of torture at the Joker’s hands, the electrocutions that had stopped his heart. About how Harley had panicked and shocked him back to life, halfway. How he wasn’t entirely human anymore.

The family listened, their expressions ranging from horror to guilt to anger. Jason looked ready to kill someone, and Bruce’s usually stoic face betrayed a crack of regret. Tim hesitated as he explained why he hadn’t told them sooner, his voice faltering but honest.

Tim’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, “I didn’t want you to think you failed… that you searched for me for nothing,"

Danny stayed quiet but stayed close, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “For the record,” he said, glaring at the others, “if any of you give him crap about this, you’re gonna have to deal with me. And trust me, I will make your lives miserable.”

Tim gave him a small, grateful smile. For the first time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

[beetleandfox]

I love how unsanitized The Terror feels. Like there’s grime everywhere. You can tell those men smell bad. When they do surgery you can hear the bone being cut, when they get sick they look genuinely ill. The main character’s actor even has pockmarks, he LOOKS like he could be from the 1800s! And idk, I think it’s cool that we’re so aware of the characters’ carnal desires. They’re hungry, thirsty, freezing, etc, and it is so obvious that they have a body with needs!!

I think this also accounts for how horny the show feels, even though everyone is bundled up 90% of the time and there are no real romantic subplots. Besides the fact that it’s a very carnal show, it just has the intimacy and grime of true horniness. Is this thing on

[anjanahalo]

Potential DPxDC Prompt

Danny survived high school with his identity intact. It wasn't easy, and it involved "Phantom" making a deal with his parents to help fight the ghosts in return for their amnesty if permanent banishment back to the ghost zone, but no one was getting zapped or gooped or vivisected, so it's all great! Meanwhile Danny Fenton, though his life, has perfected a near universal stain remover that's not just effective even post-washing, but is also environmentally friendly (thanks ghost zone chemists for working even after death on your craft). He decides to submit it to the Wayne Foundation's Innovations of the Future contest for a potential scholarship (Jazz was already teleprompting him from her college in sending out at least ten essays a week for scholarships from other sources). He gets a full ride to the University of Gotham, along with a hefty contract for exclusive rights to his stain remover formula. The issue? Danny knows the product includes a short-lived form of ectoplasm to work, and he is very, very hesitant to allow something as big as Wayne Corp to learn about that. His parents and their zeal caused so much harm just wanting to learn about the Ghost Zone. How dangerous would it be for an Entire Corporation, whose business is to exploit for gain, to learn about it? He didn't think this scholarship application through, did he? Meanwhile Batco is horrified and aghast that a civilian not only sent in something with Lazarus water in it for a fuckin' scholarship, it is actually useful for something besides raising the dead!

[bluerosefox]

Her Astrophel and Sterling

hmmm

Hmmmmmmmm

You know what.

You know those AU's where the Batfam finds or learns about either hidden or thought to be dead Al Ghul Danny! with a deaged/daughter Dani (Ellie) (I should know, I created a few of those storylines) but what if, now hear me out, what if instead of them finding Danny first its Talia.

Do I want Talia discovering her thought to be dead son to be alive? Yes. Do I want her to find him while investigating Amity Park when the League gets reports of 'Lazarus creatures/water'? Yes.

DO I WANT HER TO KNOCK ON THE FENTON'S DOOR, fully ready to pretend/honey talk her way into the house to uncover what the Fenton's know, ONLY TO MEET A LITTLE ELLIE?!

YES.

Ellie whose eyes and hair look like a copy of her Beloved but she can see bits and pieces of herself as well. Talia knows the child in front of her was not fully her's though but everything makes sense when she hears a voice, a voice she hasn't heard in ages but as a mother just knows, speak out.

"Ellie! I thought I said do not answer the door my Sterling."

"But Daddy, yous was busy fighting the hotdoggys!"

Talia's eyes widen when she finally catches sight of familiar black hair and blue eyes.

and she could only lightly whisper a old nickname she hasn't dared uttered in ages, a name she secretly gave her son due to his love of the stars "Astrophel..."

[thespilledquotes]

We tell our stories differently, don’t we, you and I?

Paula Hawkins; Into the Water

[ameliasmiscmonsters]

[foldingfittedsheets]

I grew up on a well. I didn’t really know how that made me different than other kids except that when their power went out they could still shower and flush the toilet and I couldn’t.

But the real difference is that well water often has little quirks. It’s fresh and yummy from a hole in the ground, it’s not fancy city water that goes through treatment. That means that it didn’t taste like it could be bottled up right from the tap.

In fact what it meant was it tasted like sulfur. Straight up rank eggs. We had it tested repeatedly and it was totally safe for everything, it just stank. It was just something I accepted without question. The sky was blue and water smelled like a chicken egg you'd missed because the hens had gotten sneaky and it had been slowly rotting in the hot summer sun day by day.

It wasn’t until I got older and had friends sleepover who expected a shower the next day that I really caught on that my water wasn’t what they were used to.

“What’s that smell?” they would ask in disgust.

I’d stick my head in the bathroom and look back at them in puzzlement. “What smell?”

I was completely immune. I’d drink it happily, it was as nothing to me to drink water that tasted like a demon had just pissed it out. My friends all thought I was completely off my rocker.

It wasn’t until years after I’d moved out that I smelled what everyone else did. I went to visit my parents to stay overnight. I turned on the shower and reared back. What was that smell?

City life had made me soft. I did not want a stinky egg shower anymore.

[tagzpite]

looked down upon

[mournfulroses]

Sylvia Plath, from a letter featured in The Letters of Sylvia Plath Vol. 1: 1940-1956

[nina-ya]

Synopsis: It's your first time seeing snow and you decide to make the most of the day until you wander off from the group and Law finds you admiring the scenery. Pairing: Law x reader CW: fluff, first kisses!! • ficmas masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

The first snowfall of your life felt like stepping into a dream. Each flake tumbled gently from the sky, blanketing the island in a glistening white, transforming the island into something out of a storybook. Everything about this day made your chest flutter with an excitement that you couldn’t quite put into words.

You were barely two steps on land before diving into the snow, your laughter ringing out as you flopped onto your back in a pristine patch of snow. Sweeping your arms and legs back and forth, you formed a snow angel, grinning up at the sky as you worked. When you sat up to admire your new creation, you caught sight of Law standing a short distance away with amusement etched across his features. 

“Not bad,” he remarked as he glanced between you and your creation. 

“Not bad?” you repeated, feigning offense before flashing him a teasing grin. “I’d like to see you do better. Come on, make one!” 

Law raised an eyebrow at your challenge, muttering a ‘maybe later’ under his breath. You rolled your eyes, laughing as you dusted off your gloves. “You’re no fun,” you teased before bounding off to find your next snowy adventure. 

Your enthusiasm was infectious, drawing everyone around you into your antics. Snowball fights erupted with chaotic energy, your laughter mixing with yelps as you narrowly dodged some perfectly aimed throws. You sculped a lopsided snowman, its crooked grin and mismatched arms earning a beaming smile from you as you showed it off. When you weren’t building or battling, you were tilting your head back and catching snowflakes on your tongue. 

The day wore on, and some crew members retreated to the warmth of the Polar Tang, while others stayed behind longer. You were just about to join those going towards the warmth until you caught sight of something shimmering through the woods. 

It was just a glimmer, subtle and fleeting, but it tugged at your curiosity. A light? Ice? Something hidden in the forest? You couldn’t tell, but you didn’t think twice before wandering off and trudging through the snow toward the source.

Eventually, you emerged into a small clearing, and you let out a soft gasp. A frozen lake stretched out before you, its surface gleaming under the pale light of the late afternoon. The surrounding trees were dusted with snow, their reflections faintly visible in the ice, and the scene looked like something pulled straight from a dream. 

You stepped onto the ice cautiously, the crunch of snow now replaced with the faint creak of frozen water beneath your boots. The chill bit at your exposed arms, but you hardly noticed, too entranced by the beauty before you. You stared in awe at the surroundings, soaking in the moment in bliss, thinking nothing could ruin something as perfect as this. 

That was until one voice came and shattered the peace as it cut through. “Are you out of your mind?” 

You spun around startled to find him standing at the edge of the lake, his figure stark against the snowy backdrop. You could barely make out his expression to be something caught in between exasperation and disbelief at you. 

“What happened to your coat?” he asked, tone sharp as he started making his way towards the center of the ice where you were. 

“It was holding me back,” you replied flippantly, crossing your arms as if to emphasize your point. 

Law’s brow twitched. “Holding you back?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant even as the cold began to seep into your bones. “It got caught on a branch, and well, I figured I didn’t need it.”

“Well you figured wrong,” he snapped back, voice losing some of the calm it once held. “You’re going to freeze to death out here.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a shiver wracked your body, cutting you off. Law’s frown deepened, and he stepped closer.

“Don’t tell me you’re not cold,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You’re freezing. Come here.”

Before you could protest, he opened his coat, revealing the warm lining inside and gestured for you to step closer. The size of the coat didn't surprise you, as Law always seemed to favor clothes that dwarfed him, but what did surprise you was the way he pulled you into his chest, wrapping the heavy fabric around both of you.

The warmth was immediate, his body heat radiating through the layers and chasing away the chill that had settled into your skin. His arms circled you, holding the coat closed around you and you reveled in the comfort. 

“Better?” he asked, voice less harsh. You nodded and murmured a ’thanks’ in response. “Let’s get back to the others, you’ve had your fun for the day.”

You leaned back to look up at him, your eyes wide and pleading. “Can we stay a little longer?”

His brows furrowed, lips parting in an attempt to argue back, but you pressed on quickly, your tone insistent. “The sun’s about to set, and I want to see what this place looks like at night. Just a little longer, please?”

Law glanced around at the frozen lake and the woods that surrounded it. The temperature was already brutal and he knew it would only get worse as the night settled. “It’s going to get even colder,” he pointed out, tone sharp as he attempted to reason with you. 

“I know,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation and excitement. “But just look at it, Law. The way the ice catches the light, the way the trees frame everything so prettily. I just… I just want to see it under the stars. Please.” 

Your eyes met his, wide and shimmering with sincerity, and for a moment he was at a loss. Logic dictated that he should insist you leave and drag you back to warmth if he had to, but the look in your eyes shattered any logic he had in his mind. 

With a long sigh, he relented. “Fine. But we’re not staying on the ice. Come on.”

He guided you off the frozen lake, hand firm on your arm as he led you to a small patch of dirt nestled between the snow-covered trees. The area offered a clear view of the lake and the horizon beyond, and the ground was a much more comfortable spot to sit. 

He pulled you down with him as he lowered himself to the ground and you got comfortable as you settled into wait. The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in oranges, purples, and reds, bouncing the colors off of the lake as the surface shimmered with the last rays of sunlight. 

The first stars began to emerge as the sky deepened into twilight, their faint twinkles growing stronger with each passing moment. You sighed in contentment, murmuring ‘It’s perfect’, more to yourself than anything. 

The stars above glittered like scattered diamonds, and you sat bathing in their glow, your breath puffing into the crisp air as your wide eyes scanned the constellations. Law hadn’t intended to linger, much less to find himself utterly captivated. Yet here he was, his attention irrevocably anchored to you.

He caught himself entranced by the small things: the gentle curve of your jaw, the way your eyes were wide, alight with a child-like wonder that shimmered with the reflected glow of the stars. The way the night wrapped itself around you, painting you in muted blues and silvers, made you seem untouchable. And yet, there you were, close enough that each puff of breath that you released towards the night sky mingled with the warm breaths of his own. 

You reached a hand towards the heavens, fingers outstretched as though you could pluck a star from its celestial perch, and when the illusion faded into your palm, your soft and breathless laughter filled the silence.

Law’s gaze softened further, lingering on the curve of your face, the way your breath puffed into the air like tiny clouds. His eyes lingered on your lips, softly parted as you signed in contentment, and he found himself captivated by their softness, their unspoken pull. To put it simply, he was mesmerized, caught in a moment where only you remained. 

It was rare for Law to let himself linger like this, to let his thoughts wander without restraint, but at that moment, your body pressed against his, he allowed himself to memorize you. To etch this instance into the depths of his mind, knowing it was a memory he would hold onto long after the cold had faded. 

Before he realized it, his hand moved of its own accord. Fingers brushed a few stray flakes of snow from your hair, the movement catching your attention. You turned to face him, and his breath hitched at the sight of your curious eyes meeting his. 

“What?” you asked, a soft laugh escaping your lips, a smile tugging at the edges. 

Law hesitated, his mouth parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing,” he murmured, his voice lower than intended. “Just thinking.”

“About?” you pressed, playful and unguarded.

He swallowed, the air suddenly feeling too thin. He should have deflected, should have buried the words threatening to spill over, but instead, the truth fumbled from his lips in an accidental confession. 

“You.”

That one little word seemed to suspend the moment in time. You blinked, your lips parting as his answer settled over you. “Me?” you murmured, your voice soft and almost unsure, as though saying it too loudly might make this whole moment go away in an instant. 

Law didn’t respond. Not immediately, at least. His heart stuttered and he opened his mouth, but words failed him as his golden eyes, softened by the starlight, flitted from your questioning eyes to the faint quiver of your lips. The silence stretched out and he seemed like a man frozen in time, caught in a trap of vulnerability that he didn’t intend to expose.

A shiver coursed through you, and it snapped him from his trance. His arms tightened reflexively, moving to pull his coat closer around you. The movement was meant to shield you from the biting cold, but instead, it brought you both even closer. The press of your bodies was no longer incidental but undeniable. 

The breath you exhaled wavered as the sudden proximity left neither of you room to escape. Your hands, once bunched up in fists wrapped around you, now lay against his chest while his hands froze at your sides mid-movement, as though he too had just realized just how close you'd become. You could feel his heart beneath your fingers beat in a rapid rhythm that matched your own. Neither of you breathed. Neither of you dared to. 

Your eyes flickered to his lips, a breath away, the distance so small you feared even taking in a gulp of air would close the gap. The world narrowed to the warmth of your breaths mingling, his faint scent, and the feeling of the winter air kissing your skin. 

You couldn’t tell who leaned in first. Perhaps it was both of you. Or maybe the universe itself conspired to close the gap. All you knew was that the moment his lips brushed yours, the rest of the world fell away. 

The kiss started off as a question rather than a statement, as though both of you were unsure whether to continue. But that hesitation dissolved the moment you melted into him, your lips parting to welcome the warmth he offered. 

His lips were soft and tasted faintly of the coffee he had not too long ago, mixed with something that was wholly, undeniably Law. His hand rose to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing against your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your stomach flip. 

You leaned into his touch, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, deeper this time. The cold seemed to vanish entirely, replaced with the heat blooming between you. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and when you parted for him, he seized the moment to deepen the kiss as his tongue brushed against yours. His taste was intoxicating, heady and consuming, and the way he kissed you, left you breathless. 

The moments blurred, reduced to the press of his lips, the muffled sounds that slipped past both of your lips and the faint crunch of snow beneath your shifting bodies. You wanted to draw this out as long as you could, not wanting it to end. 

When you finally broke apart, it wasn't out of desire, but necessity. Your breaths came in soft pants, visible in the air as the cold rushed back to remind you of its presence. His forehead rested against yours, and you could see Law’s lips quirk into the faintest of smiles as his eyes searched yours for a confirmation that you enjoyed that as much as he did. 

It was you who broke the silence when you asked between pants, “Do we… have to go back yet?” A smile stretched across your lips as you finished the question, the sight alone dissolving any final pesky bits of tension that may have been floating in the air. 

His smile widened, and he let out a huff of laughter as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you flush against his chest. “Not if you let me keep you warm a bit longer,” he responded. 

Such words of affection felt foreign coming from him, but you did not complain one bit as you settled into his hold, leaning into the warmth he provided. You giggled, the sound light and airy, as you leaned in again and captured his lips in yours. 

The stars above glittered on, indifferent to the magic folding just beneath them, but you couldn’t help but feel that they were shining extra brightly for just the two of you.

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko's eyes watered against his will when the ghost of a woman he did not know smiled at him like he was her child.

Zuko decided right there and then that maybe, just maybe, this too was something he came to find.

Ghost-Mother takes a look into Zuko's soul in For the Spirits Chapter IX: A Rider Alone.

More than a stranded soul, Kya holds all the love of the Old Tribe and the means to calm a coming tempest. Zuko won't ever forget her.

(He won't be allowed to.)

[thyhauntedmansion]

“Nina is fine! She’s gonna come back!” I say as I’m put in a straight jacket, being escorted to Arkham.