#((IT BEGINS AAAAAAA))

[ohitslen]

Sharing a meal

I wrote something for this below the cut if you’re interested :)

They never eat anything too tasty, surviving with packeted rations and canned food in their journey. Sometimes they would stop at a little restaurant and eat a nice meal; it really tasted like something gourmet after days of going with grain bars and dry jerky.

There were fleeting moments in between conversations in which one of them would remember some dish, from back in the day when things were easier and they didn’t worry about too many things. They never went deeper into the topic, just mentioning how they missed a good meal.

Staying at an inn or any motel was an expensive thing to pay for. However sometimes they had some extra money from an odd job Vash did or from Wolfwood’s undertaker services, and they would always rent a room as a treat for themselves.

It was a surprise when they entered the room and saw a small kitchen. The space was a little too cramped but it had everything they needed, it was like a deluxe room when they though about all the places they had been at. None of them had a kitchen at all, maybe they had a tiny stove or a mini fridge, perhaps a table sometimes but never the whole set together.

They both looked at each other to confirm they really were seeing the thing, smiling excitedly.

They could make a meal for themselves.

Vash knew how to cook, he had done some work on kitchens throughout his life. A few times he helped Rem when he was a child, he knows how to defend himself. Yet he didn’t know any recipes by heart, not any that would be inside their budget at least. He could get creative and probably whip up a thing or two if he was given enough time.

“I know what to do” Wolfwood said with a smile that irradiated a melancholic warmth interrupting his thoughts . A smile Vash had only seen when he talked about the things he loved.

Vash didn’t suggest anything in the end and just followed what the other man told him to do.

He went to buy all the things Wolfwood asked him for. Vegetables and some thoma meat. There seemed to be some spices in the room so he only bought garlic and onion as per Wolfwood’s request.

When Vash got back, he found Nick at the table arranging the ingredients the kitchen already had. He was already showered, hair messy and with droplets of water hanging on the tips. Getting closer, he could smell the soap, the cheap shampoo and the lingering scent of nicotine that never seemed to go away. He was changed into a black, long sleeved shirt and a pair of loose dark blue pants.

His overall appearance made Vash think how the edges of the man were less sharp, he seemed more relaxed and at ease, even if it wasn’t entirely the case. He just looked, soft.

“Hey welcome back, did you bring what I asked you for or will I have to use your meat for this?” Wolfwood greeted him without looking up from his task, the ingredients being the most interesting thing in the world it seemed.

Something warm pooled at the pit of Vash’s stomach, he didn’t know why that was and didn’t bother to think about it either, just enjoying the feeling.

Smiling, he placed the bags on the table in front of Wolfwood, taking out its contents. “I’m sure I brought everything yeah, I hope my life can be spared”.

The priest snorted at him and grabbed a potato that was rolling off the table. “Aight then, make yourself useful and start washing these and then chop ‘em to reasonable bitable sizes”. Losing no time, he took the meat and was cutting it while giving out the instructions.

While Vash was washing and chopping, the other was already preparing the meat putting it in a pot with boiling water. Once Vash was finished with all he was asked to do, Wolfwood ushered him to take a shower while the food was done, wanting to have more space in the narrow place. Vash did as told in that as well.

The shower felt great, all of the gross stickiness from the sweat and other things were finally washed off from his body. He felt light and a thousand times more content.

As he opened the door the smell hit him in the face, a delicious scent that surely tasted even better. Wolfwood was stirring the pot, poking some of the potatoes to make sure they were on the right term, and they seemed to be as he turned off the stove.

Vash got closer, mouth already watering just from the thought of how it’d taste “That smells so good! What did you make?” He asked with a big grin plastered all over his face.

Wolfwood pointed at the table with his hand, signaling him to sit down a little dismissively while he looked for the bowls on his own. It seemed like he was the kind that with less people on the kitchen when he was there, the better. “Just a broth, nothing too wow it’s something easy, and on budget”. Vash hummed with wonder and served two cups of water to busy himself with something.

Wolfwood poured the two servings of the broth, it was still hot and the bowl must surely be scalding. Yet Wolfwood’s calloused hands never flinched, placing their food on the table without much trouble along with a pair of long spoons.

“Be careful or you will murder your tongue” he warned and Vash chuckled.

“Thanks for the heads up chef, ‘preciate it” the other just scoffed at the title and sat down across him .

They both mixed the broth while blowing at it in hopes for it to cool down a little. However seeing how they were both starving and didn’t care too much about getting burnt or not, they just started to dig in.

Wolfwood was eating eagerly, having spoonful after spoonful of his food. He was beyond delighted. It had been a long time since he had the chance to prepare the broth he used to have back at the Orphanage.

“It’s…delicious” he heard Vash say in a low and calm tone. When he looked up to see the man, he was shocked to find him with reddish eyes that were glistening with tears. It didn’t seem like when was doing a show or anything of the sorts, he just seemed…at peace.

It wasn’t anything extravagant, quite possibly one of the most simple dishes Vash has ever eaten. It was made with the things that they could afford with the little money they could spare, the ingredients were definitely not of the best quality, the vegetables could have used a little more time on the pot. And it was delicious.

Vash felt incredibly warm inside, similar to how he felt when Wolfwood greeted him when he got back, just a thousand times stronger. The first sip he had of it tasted like the best thing ever cooked in his whole life, something he would have every day of the year for the rest of eternity. He didn’t know why that was at first, but after having a second spoon of it he could tell what it was.

It tasted like home.

The flavor of it, it was homely, the savor of melancholy. It tasted like their conversations about missing the past. The tang of the times they would have a peaceful night in the desert grilling worm meat around a campfire. It reminded him when he got sick and an old lady had given him a bowl of soup. It tasted like the first time Rem had given them a try of what meat and vegetables tasted like. It tasted like all the things he missed, and the things Nicholas most likely missed too.

The familiarity of it made him feel fuzzy and full on the inside, and he couldn’t stop eating. He was slow while doing it, wanting to savor every bit of what he could have while it lasted. It was rich, it was simple and it was perfect.

“…You want some more?” At some point, Nicholas had already finished his own bowl and brought the pot over to serve himself again. He looked at Vash with something soft in his eyes the other could not name, his voice was gentle and gravely, sweet and easy on his ears just adding more to the warmth inside of him.

“Yes…yes please” Vash answered, voice cracking a little. Nicholas served him, the sound of the liquid being poured soothing his soul.

Vash ate again, and Wolfwood was looking at him. The priest was taking small sips of water from his cup, always holding it against his mouth even if he wasn’t drinking anything. Vash didn’t really notice when he had started tearing up, thick streams of salty water running through his cheeks, a pool of them welling up at his chin and falling down the wooden table making a puddle of happy tears.

Vash enjoyed the heartfelt broth. He was happy, that bit of simplicity was enough to make him forget of everything else and just focus on that moment.

It was so mundane. Vash smiled with overflowing tears in his eyes while Wolfwood just watched with a fond smile of his own behind his empty cup of water.

At that moment, they were not in a random room at a random place. They were in a place where they had brought their home to, sharing a meal with each other.

[teacuphoneybee]

how we feelin gamers ?

[kadens-a-bee]

SKID PUMP OH MY FUCKING GOD

[astronomical-bagel]

theres just something about scar with white hair that sets off fireworks in my brain. its about loneliness its about the snow its about showing weakness its about giving away everything that you are its about rage its about people pleasing its about the SNOW its about being tired its about desparation its about being burned alive its about apathy its about being intrinsically changed by turning red its about self destruction and its also about being hot as fuck. does anyone HEAR ME

[feixio]

AFTER THE FIRST SUMMONING:

"Spend the night with Lucifer."

[yourlocalsonia2]

Fun little I SHIP IT chart

I'm putting some explanations in tags

(template under the cut) it's not made by me btw

[pareidoliajules]

Hi i literally paused it so i don't know if they're going to mention it but.

Where the god is borne. Where the god was taken to. Carried.

Porter.

What is a porter? A porter is someone who carries things.

God. Dammit.

[aphantimes]

i love the end actually it's so so fascinating

just thinking about how it immediately introduces itself as the arbiter of order.... it being a representation of death, its goal being to instill "peace" by annihilating all life....

like. ok. if it is "order", is "death", then that would mean chaos is life, right? its antithesis. the emeralds. sources of great catastrophes, but also grand miracles. they are equal parts beautiful and terrifying. they are life. life is messy, is painful, is unpredictable, it evolves and changes and grows. death is nothingness. the absence of all sensation, of all emotion. stagnation. none of the bad, but at the cost of all of the good. technically, "peace".

the end refers to itself as one of the living. i think, if it were to succeed in wiping out all life, it would then willingly destroy itself. it wholly believes in what it says. it isn't evil for the sake of being evil, from its perspective it's a saviour. doing what it sees as "necessary".

[acr3ss-the-cosmos]

@as-above-rp

The late afternoon sun painted the sky in shades of yellow and orange, and the air still held the balmy, comfortable warmth from earlier in the day. It felt perfect for Chenhua as she approached her destination: a tranquil, white sand beach where clear blue ocean waves gently lapped at the shoreline. While the Xianzhou Luofu did have an ocean in the form of Scalegorge Waterscape, it was considered a sacred site for the Vidyadhara race, and was therefore largely off limits, so Chenhua was excited for the opportunity to walk onto the sand and admire the waters -- and to see her friend Hymn again, who had invited her to meet with him here.

Chenhua had decided to wear something a little more comfortable for today: a casual, short-sleeved, sage green summer dress accented with a white floral pattern that ended below the knees, complete with pockets. It was, of course, tailored specifically for Foxians, with a hole hemmed at the lower back to make room for the tail to come through. She also wore a simple pair of white sandals in lieu of her usual work boots.

As she finally made it onto the beach itself, Chenhua began scanning the area to look for Hymn. There appeared to only be a few other people who still lingered across the shore, so it wouldn't be too difficult for her to spot him. After a few moments, marigold eyes caught sight of the siren's massive figure not far from where she had entered, standing near one of the beach's many sand dunes. Smiling brightly, Chenhua started to walk towards him, her cream-blond and brown tail swishing happily behind her. As she got closer, she waved and called out to get his attention, the glow from the setting sun making her eyes shine even brighter.

"Hymn! It's so good to see you again! I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long."

[ferretoats]

Here is another WIP panel! I kind of like the set up for this one a bit more then the first. I will do the color and shading tomorrow.

[vhgr]

                                     @forgaeven sent [stretch] with davey and aemond.

   it was a quiet, rainy day.   still, the targaryen did not fail to turn up to the stables, white hair braided away, though dressed in much more casual clothes, befitting of the work which would follow.   aemond had the utmost of trust in their employees to look after the horses;   that was why they were employed, after all.   still, ever since he was young, aemond liked to look after vhagar on his own.   he’d groom her, wash her, look after her hooves, make sure her eyes and teeth were healthy.   for a long time, after the accident and once he was allowed out of his bed, aemond would attend the vet’s check-ups on her wound.   whether it was healing correctly, whether she’d scar badly, whether she was permanently maimed, as he had been.   he had worked too hard to get her, only to lose her to some pieces of wood and the tantrums of spoiled children.

  “you’ve not yet told me what your plans were,” he spoke out, looking at davey from over his shoulder for just a moment before he continued brushing through vhagar’s short coat.   “will you be needing a reference?   a kind word, perhaps?” aemond would give more, if he could.   he’d have a call made, ensure acceptance for davey’s application wherever that would be.   such a thing was not possible, of course.   it was too direct.   too deliberate.   just too much.   so he’d give all he was allowed to.

  once all shed hair had fallen, aemond set the brush aside.   there was it again, that strange pulling on his neck;   aching and pulsing.   he gently rubbed the knot with his fingers, a frown curling on his lips.   he laced his fingers with a heavy exhale, stretching his arms forward and then over his head, before bringing his joined hands behind it, spine curving backwards.   his shirt lifted over his belt, to reveal soft skin and toned muscle underneath.   once the throbbing had been relieved, aemond pulled his shirt over the exposed skin and finally turned around with a goodbye stroke down vhagar’s muzzle.

  “do you have time for coffee?” 

[platonic-qpr-selfshipping]

DO YOU KNOW WHOSE BDAY IS IT TODAY !??!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY TO THE BOY THAT MAKES MY HEART GO CRAZY EVERYTIME HE SMILES!!!!!!!!!!!!

[paimonial-rage]

Now that the busy season of my work is complete, I have finally been able to start writing more again. I made a page on my blog with upcoming fics that I am currently working on. Feel free to check it out if you're interested!

[hythlodaes]

time tethered together

emile x estinien - 1.2k words set the night before they meet vidofnir / ARR patch + DRG quest spoilers. 

There’s something about the way the world blurs at night. The distant canopy of trees reduces down to shifting shapes against the star studded sky, looming shadows that don’t have to mean anything—not the weight of tomorrow, the enormity of the task before them, or the grief that each day bears, with scarcely the time to dwell on it. 

And the night carries a chill of its own, Dravania no less cold even in the absence of snow. Emile clutches his cloak around his shoulders as he shifts closer to the fire, eyes stinging with exhaustion even as he keeps himself awake. There are moments, just like this, when he feels like he can catch his breath. It feels like he’s the only person alive in the world, a ghost of himself no less, but still, despite the waning darkness and the lost hours of sleep, there is the smallest chance of respite. 

He takes this time, because after everything he’s gone through, after everyone he’s lost, his resolve only strengthens. 

There is no choice but to keep going. 

He isn’t alone tonight, though. His attention snaps at the telltale sound of approaching footsteps, and he looks up to see the tall figure of Estinien cut through the shadows. There’s a softness about him like this, with his long hair pulled into a loose ponytail, missing the jagged edges of his armor. It's still a sight that Emile’s growing used to—he hadn’t realized how much he relied on the distance Estinien’s helmet created between them until it came off. 

Meeting his gaze is an entirely different matter he needs to get used to. 

“The Warrior of Light forsakes an opportunity to rest,” Estinien says, his voice quiet as he sits beside him. 

“It happens on occasion.”

“I don’t imagine you have many such occasions.”

And Emile lets out the barest laugh. “No, not quite.”

He knows better than to read any concern into the exchange. After their last confrontation, their working relationship stands on shaky ground. Whatever part of Emile lingered on those first meetings, whatever stayed with him all this time, still isn’t sure what to make of him now. 

He turns his gaze back to the blurry line of trees in the distance. “Why are you awake?”

“Nidhogg stirs,” comes the answer. 

There’s no need to explain. It’s enough. 

And they’re silent for a long moment, the flames cracking before them, the air humming around them. Emile closes his eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the river that flows through Tailfeather, and he finds it more comfortable than he should, perhaps too tired to perceive any awkwardness between them. 

But then— “You hide it well from Master Alphinaud.” 

Emile glances over at him, the warmth of the fire’s glow coloring his pale skin. “What?” 

“The weariness you carry with you,” Estinien answers. “Your demeanor changes the moment he’s near. The effort is worth naught, though. He still sees it.” 

I sense the many battles are beginning to take their toll. 

Emile presses his lips together, only able to keep Estinien’s gaze for a few seconds before he turns his attention down to his hands, still clutching the cloak around him. Words fail him, his own defenses rendered useless in the face of the truth, but Estinien clears his throat, and then after a moment—

“As do I.” 

A sharp feeling digs into Emile’s chest, but there’s no anger in his voice when he says, “You presume to understand.”

“I only observe.”

And it goes unspoken: I knew you before you were like this. 

“He’s young,” Emile murmurs. “He carries enough burdens, I will not add to them my own.”

“That you would protect him so.”

“He’s like a brother to me.”

Alphinaud is younger than Emile’s own sister, but what they’ve been through has bonded them in a way that isn’t easily shaken. The boy’s heart and courage, his character and his determination to do good, to help, is what often gives Emile the strength to keep going. 

“Have you known him long?”

Emile shakes his head. “Scarcely a year.”

There’s another long pause between them as Estinien seems to think this over, and then finally— “Much can happen in a year.”

There’s a question somewhere in the statement, but it bears the truth even if it feels like such a simple way to say it. Much does not describe everything that happened in those last days in Ul’dah, nor those last moments in the tunnels. Emile still burns with shame at the resentment he carried towards Minfilia at that time, and the regret he felt at the realization that he may never see her again. 

But it’s true for him and Estinien as well, isn’t it? From the Eye awakening once more, the first time two Azure Dragoons had been chosen, to the burning sound of Estinien’s voice—In you I thought I had found kindred. There's the memory of Alberic at Emile’s back, the power of Nidhogg called upon and used against him. They crossed lances in the snow, and then there was only the strange emptiness Emile felt in his absence. That they can sit here like this now, smoke billowing up from the fire and softening the edges around them, with something like peace settled between them— 

“Yes, much can change” he agrees. He finds this to be the extent at which he can speak on it, though. Instead he leans his weight closer to him and bumps their shoulders together, just for a second, just the briefest touch. “So you could stand to show Alphinaud a little kindness.” 

Estinien’s only response is the upturn of his lips, the beginnings of a smile shadowed by the flame’s flickering light. Emile’s gaze lingers on it, an unexpected warmth bleeding through his chest at the sight, and he turns his head away again—of all the monstrous things he’s faced in this realm, he finds his courage fail in this simple matter. 

“Perhaps I should take the chance to rest after all,” he says, and he stands, pulling his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders. He makes himself look back at Estinien, who stays seated but nods his head at him. 

“Sleep well, Warrior of Light.”

Emile huffs. “Thank you, Azure Dragoon.”

“Ah, but that is a title we share.”

The air stills between them. They may be bound in this, but they still have yet to talk about it, and tonight is not the time. Whatever exists between them allows understanding, at least, and the tension in Estinien’s shoulders softens with a breath before he murmurs, “Goodnight, Emile.”

“Goodnight,” he returns. 

His exhaustion catches up with him as he returns to the hut, his body heavy as he settles in his bunk. It’s dark enough that he can only make out the faint outline of Alphinaud across the room, but the slow, even cadence of his breathing reassures him that he’s asleep. 

Perhaps he does see through Emile, but if he can be spared even the smallest amount of worry, Emile would bear anything. 

And maybe Estinien sees him for all that he is, but that feels like something else altogether. 

Strangely, it’s a comforting thought as he turns over, the light of the fire outside just a distant glow in the window, and it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep—the phantom memory of Estinien’s smile the last thing on his mind. 

[ask-the-ocean-boy]

Cove Holden likes feet confirmed?? 😟 /hj

😧 NO NO NO

[miodiodavinci]

maybe my real issue is just that i am constantly bound by ten million self-obligations and i cannot escape them no matter how i try