4luansake

[4luansake]

HELIOPHILIA. || e. elric

(n.) the desire to stay in the sun; love of sunlight

cws; mentions of scars, mentions of ed's past, this is based on 'brotherhood' and takes place after the fight with father. 850 words.

You liked the sun. Loved it, even.

The warmth its light brought to those lucky enough to bask in it, the promises it held—of new days, new beginnings. The way it climbed the sky every morning like it had something to prove, especially after a particularly dark and chilled night. The struggles it had endured and overcome—its quiet perseverance. You admired that. Every scar, every imperfection it thought it had.

You were truly, irrevocably in love with the sun, without a shadow of a doubt.

Edward was (like) the sun. 

Bright. Relentless in his pursuit of knowledge. Burning with a passion that couldn’t be extinguished, not by pain, not by loss. He was warmth in the best way, gently kissing your skin, enveloping you in his sweet embrace. Wrapped in sharp edges. A flame that was cradled and tended to by calloused hands. 

He gave, and gave, and gave—selfless to a fault. Sacrificed without hesitation. Burdened himself with a guilt that he believed was his alone to carry. He masked his pain, stood tall even as the world tried to bring him down. 

And yet, like the sun, he always rose.

You saw it in the way his eyes caught the light—golden and stubborn, always shining in his resolve. In his hair, either messily tied back, or on the rare occasion he’d let it flow freely, with strands that slipped loose and shimmered like daybreak when they caught the breeze. In his skin—sun-touched, freckled, and weathered by years of fights, whether with others or within himself—each mark a silent testament to all he’d endured. He was always waging some kind of war. A quiet, ongoing battle in his mind against grief and resentment: grief for losing his mother, and resentment—so much resentment—for trying to bring her back. For losing his younger brother’s body. For not being enough, even when he gave everything.

You saw it in his bones, forged from resolve, the kind that didnt break or falter, even when they ached. And you saw it in his soul—his beautiful, beautiful soul—resilient, fierce, and so full of love it hurt to look at sometimes. He wasn’t some untouchable god, even the power of alchemy couldn’t make him as much. He was just a boy. One who had lost it all yet carried that pain, and grew from it.

You never told him this comparison out loud. 

You didn’t need to.

You showed him. Showed him in simple actions, in gentle touches, in the way you looked at him like he hung the stars himself. And he let you. He let you see him. Let you love him, even when he didn’t always know how to love himself.

And that, in itself, was a kind of miracle.

The sun hung low in the sky, warm and honey-colored, casting everything in a soft glow. Birds trilled somewhere among the tall grass, and the breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. Your paints were spread out beside you—open jars of color, half-used brushes, smudges on your hands and skirt—scattered in a beautiful mess.

Edward lay on his stomach, arms folded beneath his head, his shirt tossed somewhere in the scattered mess of palettes and pigment as you straddled his lower back. You’d picked up painting sometime after he’d gone west—at first, something to pass the time, something to keep your hands busy rather than let your heart dwell too long on the waiting. Then, slowly, it became something else. A quiet ritual. A way to translate the things you felt but couldn’t always say out loud.

It was peaceful. Passionate. Vibrant. It felt like you.

You never realized the luxury—the stillness—of painting until you started. The act of creating something just because it brought you joy, not because it served a purpose or saved a life. It was simply comforting, and now, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to.

Turns out, not constantly fighting for your lives was kind of nice.

You pressed the brush to his shoulder blade, watching the color bloom against his skin—blossoms of ochre and burnt sienna, smudging over freckles and old scars. You started with a golden sun, small and shining between his shoulder blades, its rays stretching outward in lazy arcs. 

Around it, you added petals—marigolds, daffodils, and little sprigs of yarrow, things you’d studied and sketched during your free time. Flowers that represent strength, healing, new beginnings.

Things he never asked for, but had always deserved.

You didn’t rush. You took your time with each stroke, letting the colors blend and layer into one another. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt right. Every once in a while, you’d lean down and press a kiss to his back. To the sun you painted, to the petals around it, to the parts of him that had scarred and healed and endured. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The soft rise and fall of his breath said enough.

He liked to think you were the one who brought the light.

But to you—

He was the living embodiment of the sun.

And you had always loved the sun.

no an really, i don’t expect engagement with this post cause the fandom is practically dead and i wrote this for fun… i really love edward elric it’s a bit of an obsession. my golden boy deserves all the love in the world 🔆

[4luansake]

@ MASTERLIST Group. ౨ৎ

ⓘ.= Don’t know [YET]

O .= Discovering [or rediscovering]

꩜.= Know

You need to know that I used to be a fan between 2016 and 2018 but since the fandoms became more toxic I decided to take a break so between 2019 and 2024 I didn’t listen to K-pop. I’ve been really trying to get back into listening to K-pop and I started to look at all the bands and wanting to discover more so if you guys have any suggestions of groups, either female or male, I don’t care. I just want to listen to K-pop again and be happy. 😿‼️

𓊆ྀི BTS 𓊇ྀི

꩜ since “Blood, sweat and tears”

— [Since 2016]

RM is my BIAS ‼️

𓊆ྀི BLOCK B 𓊇ྀི

꩜ since “VERY GOOD”

— [Since 2016]

Taeil is my BIAS ‼️

Still listens even if disbanded 😿

(Zico in solo)

𓊆ྀི ATEEZ 𓊇ྀི

꩜ since “HALA HALA”

— [Since 2018]

Yeosang is my BIAS ‼️

𓊆ྀི KiiiKiii 𓊇ྀི

꩜ since “I DO ME”

— [Before their debut ]

(I CANT WAIT ANYMORE GIVE IT TO ME)

Haum is my BIAS ‼️

O NOMAD [ATM…]

O STRAY KIDS

O TWICE

O BLACKPINK

O GOT7

ⓘ ARrC

ⓘ AESPA

ⓘ DREAMCATCHER

[4luansake]

un dibujito a la rápida xd me gusto el resultado

[4luansake]

Okay, I've been away for a long time because of studying and feeling unwell 😐

I have only these artworks so far. 🤏 ( Yes, humanization again)

And they 💙

of course, I have a couple of ready-made art with BunnyDoll, but I'll show them later

a little patience and you will see more content. If you want to see him every day, I have a Telegram channel, but everything is in a language that is convenient for me

[4luansake]

I'll show you for now the redesign of my parents and WIP (or just part of the drawing, it's probably even more correct)

There will be more art coming soon 🧊

(I'm trying to keep up with both drawing and studying, despite the fact that I'm still sick at the same time

I'm just ashamed to leave you without content 😥😥)

[4luansake]

It's all Tik tok's fault

[4luansake]

[4luansake]

[4luansake]

Drabble | Logan x Reader

🐑 Imagine: Sitting on Logan’s couch and scratching his back/head and him complaining when you stop

Movie nights were common for the two of you. It was a way to spend time together, cuddle, and share your favorite films with Logan. Tonight you decided to play one of your all time favorites. At this point, you’ve probably seen this film over 100 times in your life, so your attention is drawn to your phone.

You and Logan are a bit smushed to the side of the couch as he uses his hand to prop up his head on the arm rest with you right there snug against his side. Mindlessly you drag your nails up and down Logan’s bare back, causing him to shiver lightly when you reach his waistline. Your hand travels upwards to his neck and into his hair. Your attention is drawn from your phone when you hear a purr and a soft groan escape Logan. His eyes are closed peacefully and his mouth slightly open.

You smile at this, entertaining him for a moment, before taking your hand back and using it to type a quick text message on your phone. He turns his torso completely towards you and nudges your thigh with his knee.

“Hm?” You reply, feigning innocence.

“Why’d you stop?” He was firm with his response, quickly catching on to your little act.

“Stop what?” You say, biting back a sly smile.

“You know what. C’mon bub.” He almost whines, surprising you. Your eyebrows raise at his tone. Suddenly you realize how desperate he really was.

“Didn’t know you liked it so much, I’ll keep going, but you’ll have to pay me back later.” You tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

His eyes darken at your insinuation, and he shifts so that he’s laying on his back, legs over the arm rest, and head in your lap.

“You’re just a like a big old grumpy cat, you know that?” You giggle, running your hand through his hair and scratching his scalp.

His eyes are closed, but there’s no denying that he rolled them at your comment.

“Yeah whatever, just don’t stop.” The last words spiraling off into a sigh of contentment.

Requested by @iluvloganhowlett !! 🤠

[4luansake]

homesick

[4luansake]

ah, yes. cringefail affection giver and cringe fail affection receiver. what a lovely dynamic.

aka just two guys who cannot communicate to save their lives

[4luansake]

An adult: Who do you want to be in the future? A kid: I want to be a hero. An adult: Like Spider-Man? A kid: No, like king Baldwin IV of Jerusalem.

[4luansake]

He's in love with you

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,500+

Synopsis: Benn Beckman can no longer ignore the way he feels about you, and it's eating him alive.

Themes: Benn Beckman x reader, unrequited (requitted) love, idiots in love, teasing, kissing, sfw, fluff, comfort, confessions of love.

Notes: @tiredemomama said she was having a bad time recently, and her love for Becks was one of the things that's keeping her chin up. I thought it'd be nice to reassure you that your fictional hazubando loves you too - so I wrote a little something for you. I hope you don't mind, honey!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Benn Beckman, the second in command to Red-Haired Shanks, is stoic and abrasive most of the time. He keeps his emotions hidden beneath his cool exterior to not give himself up to the pool of emotion swirling within the chasms of his chest. While his grimace never leaves his face, there truly is no hiding how he feels about you. 

This gunslinging vice-captain is in love with you. Desperately in love with you.

Always observing from afar, his gaze floats over the margins of the newspaper in his hands. Raking his eyes subtly enough to not draw attention to himself, he wordlessly dotes on you from his position on the deck with his eyes soft and filled with love and devotion. This first mate is absolutely smitten with you, and he hopes his affections are hidden enough to escape notice. 

It has not, however, escaped the attention of the Yonko captain you both serve under. Oh, absolutely not. 

Shanks clocked that development before he thought Beckman, himself, knew what was growing in his heart. His observation and affections for both you, and his competent first mate, had him positively itching to meddle in the growing affection between you. But he decided to ‘be good,’ and watch the sparks ignite the gunpowder to set ablaze the fireworks show. 

It started with little things: Beckman trailing your form when you sauntered into town, throwing himself between you and harms way when engaged in combat, offering to watch your drink for you when you went to bars and taverns. Then it developed into something a little deeper. 

Beckman often wrote you little notes, slipping them to you subtly beneath the dining room table in front of the crew when he thinks nobody is watching. The notes would be anything from: ‘do you need anything from town today?’ or ‘you seem down, do you want to talk about it?’ He would only ever do this to ensure you were comfortable, not drawing attention to you if you didn't want to be seen. 

Then it got a little more obvious to the crew that he was smitten with you. He would escort you into rooms with his hand on the small of your back, holding open doors for you if you were wandering in beside him, offering to carry your equipment for you because ‘it's just easier that way.’

After a while, the crew all witnessed the obvious favoritism Beckman was gifting you with. The only person who was yet to catch on to his affections was the one person who mattered. 

You had absolutely no clue. Although not overly oblivious to the new attention the chainsmoker was giving you, you honestly mistook his friendliness for exactly that. 

Friendliness. 

You were good friends, close friends. The closest two friends could ever be. Picking out potential couplings in towns for one another was an often happenstance. Pretty men and women were often the topic of conversation, and you had always demonstrated your keen eye with your choices for him. That was until the day he refused them all. There was nobody he would rather spend his time with than you, and he needed to let you know as such.

He couldn't play this little game with you any longer. The heartache that came from neglecting his emotions for too long had him a little more furious and pent up than usual. Every member of the crew, including you, had noticed his attitude switch. You decide to do something about it, changing the roles and becoming the one in your friendship to check in with him first. 

Seeking him out after a day out in a rural town, he was leaning over the barricade on the pier and staring out into sea. His gray orbs were narrowed and focussed, and his cigarette hung limply from his lips. You apprehensively press your hand on his shoulder, breaking him away from his thoughts and turning to face you. 

His features soften briefly before they return back to his usual grimace. You expect him to shrug off your hand from his shoulder, but his body seems to lean into the gentle touch and hold you there for as long as you give him. Without words, you furrow your brows curiously at him and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

Sighing into the touch, he closes his eyes and sizzles out the lessening end of the cigarette on the wooden barricade beside him. After thumbing the filter end into the hard surface, he turns back to you: your hand still pressed firmly on his shoulder. As you go to withdraw your hand from his shoulder, he immediately grips your wrist and hovers your retreating hand above his face. 

Slowly and apprehensively, he draws your wrist to his lips and presses them tenderly to the palm of your hand. His eyes search yours for any apprehension or hesitation to his small advance, and upon finding none, he lowers his lips to your wrist and places them over your rapidly beating pulse point. 

Your wide eyes go half-lidded the moment he presses his lips to your wrist, looking up at him with nothing but love and adoration. He mirrors your expression, his eyes falling glazed as he bares his eyes intensely into your own. 

“Is this why you’ve been acting like an asshole, big guy?” you ask him with a knowing smile growing on your lips. He chuckles down at you while blinking slowly. Leaning his forehead down, he presses it against your own while circling your captured wrist around his neck. 

“‘M not actin’ like an asshole, Darlin’,” his smooth baritone gently informed you with a soft hint of mockery, “Just actin’ like a guy who knows what he wants, but doesn’t know what to do about it.” There were two reactions Beckman was expecting from you at this very moment. The first was you leaning in and pressing your lips against his. The other was for you to recoil and turn down his advances. 

He was not expecting you to taunt him with a gentle tease.

“Ooh,” you hum up at him, “Oh, you must really like me.” You scrunch your nose up and grin as you pull away from contact against his forehead, “You want to kiss me. You want to hold me. You want to claim me.” You giggled, lulling your head to the side and poking your tongue out at him. 

Beckman immediately puffed out his broad chest before stooping down and circling his arms around your waist. You squeaked in shock, eyes again growing wide as he lifted you into his arms. In reaction, you hooked your other arm around his neck and pressed your own chest into his. 

“Somethin’ wrong with all that, Darlin’?” he whispered huskily into your face, his lips hovering over yours while he tilted his face into yours, “You don’t want me to?” Your lips part in reaction, quivering gently as he continues to hover his face a whisper’s length away from you. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper into his lips, leaning your lips closer to his and waiting for him to close the distance. He pulled his face away with a mischievous grin, his eyes narrowed and looking down his nose at you.

“Ask me nicely,” he retorted cockily back at you. He was so close you could taste his withheld kiss. Wanting nothing more than all you mocked him with, you humbled yourself and did as he asked. 

“Kiss me please, Beckman,” you whispered, your eyes focussed entirely on his lips, “I want nothing more than you.” His grin dropped, his eyes darkened, and he immediately heeded your humble request.

A dance of lips and tongues pressed repressed and hidden emotion in a passionate embrace. His rumbled groan fled unbridled and breathily from his lips into yours, as your muffled whimper was claimed behind his mouth. It felt as if the waves of passion had swollen and spilled in a greedy and desperate kiss from your beloved first-mate. 

Turning your bodies, he sat you on the railing he was leaning against prior and slotted his hips between your thighs. Rotating your head and angling your chin, you could taste the lingering flavor of his last cigarette on his tongue as it brushed with yours. His stubble scratched at your cheeks as you felt him begin to smile against your lips. 

Raking his hands from your back over your thighs, he gripped the muscle and held you firmly in place before breaking his lips away from yours. Placing a few more soft and close-lipped kisses against your lips, he finally withdrew his face from yours. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he uttered breathily while shying his smile away from you, “‘S been a long time comin’. Didn’t wanna frighten you with the intensity too soon.” You collected his cheek with your hand and turned his eyes back to meet with yours. 

You offer him nothing more than your smile before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against his lips in response. 

Watching on from a distance, an exchange of Berry from Yassop, Roux and Limejuice appear in Shanks’ outstretched hand and toothy grin. Beckman had finally admitted his affections for you, and your beloved Captain could not be happier about it. Especially now that the largest wad of Berry from Hongo appeared in his hands.

“Drinks are on me, lads!” he called, turning around and laughing merrily as he reentered the tavern. Neither you nor Beckman heard the exchange, choosing to remain in each other's aura and enjoying the warmth growing in your chests with the sparks of new beginnings.

[4luansake]

[4luansake]

“We love you, All Might.”

[4luansake]

As they save All Might, what if we get a continuation of this visual?

Credits and Bonus below the cut

‘The path he chose.’

Posted with Permission

Artist: Aqilah_exe2

Original Post

[4luansake]

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that.” Shut up!

Mom-Might!