#a lot to come from this i think...

[swandivers]

tl;dr: jihan receives a call from his sister. it's... complicated. wc: 960

jihan’s phone is ringing. the caller id reads do jihye.

last time they’d talked, she’d told him never to contact her again. granted, he hadn’t truly thought that she’d meant it—they’re family, after all, and they’ve got such a small one to begin with. they can’t afford to be cutting each other off over past mistakes. still, he has a tendency to take things too far. she told him never to contact her again close to two years ago, and they haven’t talked since.

but she’s calling him now. he lets it ring until she probably thinks she’s going to get sent to his voicemail, and then he picks up. he doesn’t say anything—he’s not quite ready to talk yet and he doesn’t trust himself to speak kindly.

nothing but white noise between them. five seconds pass, ten seconds. “are you there, jihan?” she asks.

“yeah.”

white noise again. he wonders if she’s being stubborn like he is or if there’s another reason for the silence—anxiety, uncertainty, trying to gather her words. there had been a time when they’d call each other once a week just to talk. he misses it every now and then.

“are you busy?” she asks finally. he’s sitting on his sofa, bottle in hand. a typical evening. no obligations to tend to for the rest of the night, no friends waiting to meet up with him. he takes a long drink from the bottle.

“no.”

“okay, good. well… i guess i’ll get right to the point?… jihan, i’m getting married. i sent out the invitations today. you’re invited, of course, but i wanted to let you know directly before you got the invitation in the mail. you’re my brother, after all.”

silence again—not out of pettiness this time, but some type of speechlessness. marriage. all things considered, it’s not a huge shock - she’s almost twenty-six, and jihan still remembers how much she had always daydreamed about finding the one and having a fairytale wedding. god only knows how many times she’d asked him for his opinion on hypothetical designs and arrangements, how many times she’d gotten angry at him for his bad taste.

he’s happy for her, he guesses. he doesn’t have time to tell her as much, though—he hesitates too much, and then she blindsides him a second time: “i’m pregnant, too.” a pause, then, “but that won’t be announced on the invitation. you’re the first to know.” she laughs, but it doesn’t sound humored. it sounds awkward, worried, scared.

“is that why you’re getting married?” it’s a cautious question. he doesn’t want to provoke her, he doesn’t want to sound judgmental - and more than that, for her sake, he doesn’t want to be right.

“yeah, i guess so… not only that. i like him, but—” her voice quivers, and before he knows it, he’s listening to her quietly sob on the other end of the line. he guesses this is the true reason why she had called—needing someone to confide in who would get it. needing her older brother.

he sighs, still angry but too tender-hearted to let it permeate this moment. he doesn’t know what to tell her, though, or if there even is anything he can tell her that will matter.

“does dad know?”

she’s still sniffling, but she regains most of her composure before answering. “no. i’m going to wait to tell him until after the wedding.”

“he wouldn’t be angry.”

in all fairness, jihan doesn’t really know that. he remembers going to church twice a week while he and jihye were growing up, ideas and fears still burned into the back of his mind even when the faith has been lost. and he knows, too, that his parents had gotten married because his mother had become pregnant with him—but they were a happy couple. he likes to think that love had something to do with it, too, and he likes to think that regardless, his father would still extend grace jihye’s way as he always had.

that said, nothing is certain. he imagines the uncertainty is terrifying in a situation like this.

she doesn’t say anything back. she’s breathing shakily on the other end, probably still trying not to cry again.

“you don’t have to get married.”

and she’s crying again. he leans forward, puts his half-empty bottle on the coffee table.

“we’ve already pla–… planned everything, jihan. it’s… it’s happening. he’s a good person.”

he sighs again. what a life. do jihye, the hopeless romantic—forced to settle by her own fears. he doesn’t push it further. he’s not in the place to do so, and he doesn’t want to agitate her emotions any more than he already has.

“anyway, i just…” she takes a deep, shaky breath. sniffles. she finishes out her statement with stability: “i just wanted to tell you. don’t worry about it or about me. it’s a good thing. do you think you’ll make it to the wedding? it’s in june.”

he smiles, tight-lipped and bittersweet. he hates the situation as it is, despite not knowing every detail. maybe she is happy. maybe he is a good guy. but her crying hadn’t sounded like tears of joy.

“i’ll be there,” he assures quietly.

“thank you. listen, i’m gonna let you go now, okay? it was nice to hear your voice. i’ll try to call again soon so we can catch up.”

“okay.” the call ends. he puts his phone down and sits in silence, thinking. what a fucking rollercoaster of a phone call—what a headache, what a mess. still, he’s smiling a little. not for her situation, but for the comfort of having spoken to family again. knowing he’s not as unforgivable as he thought he was.

he reaches for the bottle again.

[styxxsyringe]

ghanaian miku

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Physically? I am sitting in my bedroom. Mentally? Spiritually? I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR!!!!! THESE TWO HAVE KILLED ME!!!!

(Another drawing! This was originally attempt #1 at drawing stan, and then fiddleford just showed up. Kinda feels like them five minutes after the above acting like nothing happened though, so it works sdjkgkjfshj)

[princedrewwrites]

wrightworth makes me sick because everything you think would be fanon is actually 100% canon like what do you mean phoenix became a lawyer because he wanted to ‘save’ miles. what do you mean that miles chartered an international flight because phoenix was in danger. what do you mean phoenix calls miles ‘daddy’ in the middle of court. what do you mean that miles is almost the entire reason phoenix became a lawyer again after being disbarred.

like I genuinely thought ‘phoenix visited miles in europe during the seven year gap’ was fanon but no!! that’s also canon!!! at this point it’s less gay if they just come out and say it!!!!

[saccharinescorpion]

Farcille is so interesting to me because at first it comes off as a very fluffy ship but the more you reread the series the more you realize they actually have some serious baggage to work through before they could believably be in a romantic relationship… but that baggage has nothing to do with the necromancy or the accidental transformation or the violations of the in-universe Geneva Convention or the (SPOILERS) cannibalism (/SPOILERS) and everything to do with Marcille treating Falin like she’s a Precious Moments figurine

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[snail-day]

It’s hard to argue with Suguru.

Not like it is with Satoru, who fights loud, two tempers crashing, both of you saying things you don’t mean but at least saying something. At least with Satoru, everything’s out in the open. Honest. Even when it hurts.

Suguru is different.

He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t combat your words. He just... tightens. Folds inward. Smiles a little too tightly, makes your coffee just the way you like it, overplans your days to “help.” He does everything for you, but never with you. He says he wants peace. Harmony. Love. At first, it felt like being cherished. Now it feels like you’re being caged. Never actually tells you what’s wrong. He’ll go passive-aggressive, clean the entire kitchen in silence, disappear into his thoughts for hours while insisting he’s fine. He’ll bottle everything up until you’re the only one spilling over. Until you look like the one who’s too much.

You try to bring it up - you try. That you feel smothered. That he never talks to you. That his silence makes you feel like you're the only one bleeding while he stands there pretending he’s not even scratched.

But he doesn’t respond. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even look at you. Just sits there, staring at the floor, leg bouncing, fists tight on his lap like it physically pains him to have this conversation. You hate raising your voice. But you feel like you’re screaming into a void.

And when you finally slam the bedroom door shut, frames rattling, it’s not because you’re angry. It’s because he stopped trying. He stopped meeting you halfway. Stopped seeing you.

He doesn’t follow, just sits there, biting back the tears. Biting down the words he wants to say but doesn’t know how. “Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Please tell me how to fix this.” But nothing comes out.

Because if he lets the fire out, he’s afraid there’ll be nothing left.

Hours later, when the house is dark and your breathing’s turned soft in the guest room, he creeps in. Picks you up carefully, warm palms slipping underneath you. Carries you back to your shared bed. You stir, but don’t wake, and he thinks maybe that’s a blessing.

Pulls you close, tucks you against his chest, arms wrapped around you like he’s trying to glue the pieces back together without you noticing. Then, quietly, he cries. Doesn’t sob. Doesn’t shake the bed. Just lets the tears roll down his cheeks, one by one, into your hair. His fingers curl tightly into your shirt. His chest rises and falls with the kind of grief he’s never spoken aloud.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, again and again, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I make it so hard to love me. I’m sorry I keep breaking things. I don’t know how to stop.”

You don’t move. Maybe you’re still asleep. Maybe you’re pretending.

He doesn’t mean to cry. He’s so careful, always so careful, with you, with the house, with the weight of everything he carries but never speaks about. But when he lays you down in the bed, when you shift just slightly and curl instinctively toward him even in sleep, something in him buckles. Brushes the hair from your face with trembling fingers. The pad of his thumb drags gently beneath your eye, wiping away the last of your tears, but his own are already falling.

His broad shoulders start to shake, just barely, like he’s trying to hold even his grief in check. A soft, broken breath leaves him, one he bites down on so hard it sounds more like a choke than a sob.

“I don’t know how to keep you,” he whispers, voice raw. “I don’t know how to stop ruining it.” Closing his eyes, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. Tries to breathe you in like you’re still his. Like he hasn’t already pushed you too far.

“I just wanted to make it perfect. I thought if I could just... if I could make everything perfect, then maybe you'd stay. That nothing would go wrong.”

He swallows another sob, muffles it into your skin. Every apology he didn’t say earlier pours out in pieces now, scattered and soft and full of everything he buried beneath that calm mask.

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to talk. I’m sorry I make you feel small. I just - ” his voice breaks again, “ - I was so scared. I’m always scared.”

He thinks you’re asleep. Thinks you don't feel the way his strong body trembles. Doesn’t know you’re awake now, barely breathing, listening to the truth he only speaks in quiet moments. You realize he’s not trying to control you out of malice.

He’s just a man surrounded by love, who never actually learned how to love.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just your average male living space.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[anotherlikeyou]

Ah shit, here we go again

[lucabyte]

even dogs pass the mirror test

[jorenilee]

thinks about puppet scarf. do they know

[oyabun-draws]

reupload bc i just noticed that i uploaded a version with the scar layer hidden IM SORRY POOKIES!!!

[verflares]

(click for higher quality!) draconified link concept ive been chipping away at this past week ..... here's my funny little compendium concept for him:

"A heroic spirit has taken the form of this bestial dragon. Unlike it's kin, this creature exhibits an extremely aggressive disposition. It appears highly territorial, and will relentlessly chase down those who disturb its skywide patrols - of which it seems to be endlessly searching for either a long-time vassal or foe. Unfortunately, it seems the spirit within has long since forgotten exactly who it was looking for…"

[forgettable-au]

CHAPTER TWO | The Scientific Method

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 73-77)

* His brother is annoying.

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