#I'll rest for a while and then will write again!

[literaryslapshot]

OHHHHHMG a first look with jack 🥹🥹🥹

now y'all i normally don't write fluff but this was too cute!!

"i dunno if i can do this, i think i'll pass out up there," jack rambled on and on to robby, his best man. he had been a ball of nerves all day long. from the moment he woke up, started to get ready for the day he felt anxiety creep into his veins. he tried everything his therapist gave him, but nothing seemed to work.

he came to the conclusion that it was because he hadn't seen you yet.

it's because he hasn't seen you all day, the one thing that keeps him breathing and moving. what helps calm the chaotic storm that is his world, you. he had sent you a paragraph the minute he woke up, how he couldn't wait to see you walk down the aisle and marry you officially. the text alone was so sweet, you couldn't imagine what his vows were going to be like.

"well c'mon, you gotta go see your bride now." jack took a few deep breaths before walking outside the venue with just the photographer.

you were waiting for the cue, holding your bouquet with your maid of honor walking behind you. you were also a bundle of nerves, hands shaking as you walked up behind him.

it was decided early on that the two of you in private would exchange your personal vows to each other, only wanting them to stay between the two of you. you could tell he was just as nervous as you were; his shoulders were up high and he kept moving his head to the right and left, trying to crack the bones he's already cracked.

he heard the click of your heels and he couldn't stop the grin from forming on his lips. he chuckled and lowered his head, taking a couple more deep breaths. as you stepped closer you saw him trying to cheat a little by turning his head, but you quickly scolded him for it.

you rested your hand on his shoulder, and he immediately relaxed under your touch. "hey," you spoke, "you ready?" he mumbled his response, taking another breath before turning around.

he took a step forward before turning around to see you. he busted out in laughter from pure joy, bringing his hands up to his face. tears began to form in his eyes as he saw you- he finally saw you- standing in the most gorgeous white wedding dress he could have imagined. you had given him hints of what it would look like, but he could have never thought of this.

"baby," he stepped closer to you, putting his hands on your hips and smiling, "you look like a dream." he then cupped your face, slowly leaning in to give you a soft kiss. "i think i am dreaming, actually."

"no, this is real," you responded through a smile. he stepped back, hands on your hips still, taking in the wonderful sight before him. he grinned, shaking his head. he never could have imagined any of this. the beautiful woman standing before him, in just a few moments about to become his wife.

"you ready for vows?" you asked, he shook his head. you handed your bouquet off to your bridesmaid as she gave you both the vow books for you and jack. he agreed to go first, taking the pressure off of you a little bit.

"my love," he held onto your hand while he read out loud, "i never thought i would get this lucky to love again. i thought i already had my chance, that my story was written, but then you came along. you changed my entire life for the better- you gave me a reason to keep living again, and for that i am grateful."

you squeezed his hand as he spoke every word, tears starting to fall but you never once took away your gaze from him.

"i vow to always, be your husband. i give myself completely to you. i vow to always love you, protect you, put you first, and stand by your side. i will never go to places where you are not welcome, i will never sit at a table where you can't sit next to me. i vow to love you on the bad days, love you even better on the good days. i vow to be yours."

he looks up at you from the book, putting a hand on your cheek and wiping a couple tears away, "you are the best thing that has ever been mine, and i vow to protect it until my dying breaths."

you cannot wait to marry this man.

[maidragoste]

Worry

Frank Langdon x Wife!Reader

Summary: You start to worry when your husband takes more days off than usual.

Okay, I'm very excited and nervous to write something that isn't about hotd, but I actually enjoyed writing it, so I want to share it.

As I always say, please don't hesitate to like, comment, and reblog. The interactions always motivate me to keep writing 🥰🥰💖💖

If you have any ideas, questions or headcanons you want to share, my inbox is always open 🤗💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you have a good reading!

The first day Frank stayed home, you didn't suspect a thing. You believed him when he told you he'd requested a day off after working extra shifts.

You and the kids were happy to have Frank all to yourselves. You all went to the park for a while, and at night, you watched Encanto and snuggled up on the couch after your husband made dinner.

It was a beautiful day, being able to sleep in, having breakfast together, and having your husband by your side helping you with the chaos of the kids. Hearing your kids's laughter, watching Frank being a father. You melt every time you hear him patiently explain something to the kids or when you see him hugging the kids. You loved these days, but you married a doctor and you knew that the next day Frank would be off saving lives and might come back too tired to give the kids his full attention.

The next morning came and, like every morning, you two woke up to his alarm. Frank quickly turned it off so as not to wake the kids, and when he saw that you were starting to move away from him to get up to make him breakfast, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him, your bodies pressed together.

“Don’t get up. I’m staying home,” he said, placing a kiss on your neck. You turned to look at him, confused. “What? I want to stay longer with my favorite girl and my buddies.” This time he kissed you on the lips, and you were distracted by the love your husband was giving you.

On the second day, you didn't go to the park; you all stayed home and made a fort in the living room with pillows and sheets, playing cards. That night, Frank cooked dinner again.

The third day came and you began to suspect. This time, your alarm didn't wake you up; you woke up alone—your biological clock had probably gotten used to always waking up at the same time—and you found your husband already awake, staring at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" you asked, letting him know you were awake.

“Nothing,” he replied instantly, and you didn't believe him. He didn't look as relaxed as he had the morning before, but rather tense. “I'm staying home. You can go back to sleep.”

This time, you hugged him and let him rest his head on your chest. “I love you,” you said, hoping he'd understand the meaning behind it.

I'm here. I'm here to listen to you whenever you're ready. You can tell me anything, and I'll still love you.

“I love you more,” he said, feeling a lump form in his throat. He didn't want to disappoint you.

On the third day, you all stayed home again. You made cookies together and checked on Frank. You noticed he was more discouraged.

Fourth day. Again, there was no alarm; you woke up to find Frank staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. You didn't ask him what was wrong, just went to hug him.

"I love you," you reminded him again.

"I love you more," he repeated, caressing your hand.

You didn't need to ask; you both knew he'd stay home again.

You didn't go out. Everyone played board games. Frank was still discouraged, and you noticed he was constantly looking at his phone as if he was waiting for something, which made you worry even more, and you decided to be direct that night.

“Can we talk?” you asked as soon as Frank came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, ready to go to sleep.

Frank felt his body tense instantly. “Of course,” he said, trying to act as if nothing had happened, and he sat down next to you on the bed.

You took your husband's hand and looked him in the eyes. You gathered your courage and began to speak. “I'm worried about you. I know something happened, and you're not telling me.” You never stopped stroking his hand. “I just want to help you. Please, let me help you. Don't push me away. I'm here for you,” you pleaded with sad eyes, causing a lump to form in your husband's throat.

Frank let out a shaky breath. He didn't want to disappoint you. He didn't want to change your image of him. What if he told you what he'd done and you walked away? What if you took him away from the kids? That would kill him. He couldn't be without either of you; you and the kids are the best things in his life. He didn't want to lose you and them. But if he didn't tell you the truth, he knew he'd definitely lose you. You'd never forgive him if he lied to you now.

“I messed up,” he said.

“In the hospital?” you asked, just to be sure.

He nodded, his eyes glazed over, and you squeezed his hand tightly. “Yes.”

You looked at him silently, waiting for him to continue.

“I-I,” he found it hard to say because now that days had passed since what happened, he felt ashamed of how he handled the situation. “I stole medication from patients and I got caught. Robby found out and sent me home, but I went back to the hospital because of Pittfest. I tried to talk Robby out of reporting me, but he didn't agree and didn't react well,” he confessed hastily.

You're shocked and confused. Since when did this start happening? Had you been so focused on the kids that you didn't notice the changes in your husband? How did Frank get to the point of needing drugs so much that he was stealing them from his patients?

"Since when are you an addict?" you asked, and you obviously said the wrong thing because Frank let go of your hand.

"I'm not an addict," he denied instantly, and your concern increased.

“Frank, honey,” your tone held no malice, and you took his face in your hands with the same affection as always. “Think about it, okay? Your normal self would never have thought of stealing from your patients. If you've gone that far, it's because you have a problem,” you said gently.

Frank swallowed. He didn't want to admit it. If he did, it would become serious, and you might even ask him to check himself in and stay away from the children.

“We'll find you help, and you'll be okay, okay?” you continued, hoping to reassure him when you noticed the uncertainty and fear in his blue eyes.

“Please don't take me away from the boys,” he pleaded with a trembling voice, resting his forehead against yours. It broke your heart to see him like that.

“Never,” you promised. “We're in this together. You'll be okay, we'll all be okay,” you broke down. “I love you, forever,” you reminded him and kissed him.

And Frank took refuge in your love, your kisses, and your words. Knowing you'd be with him every step of the way, you'll work together and he'll be fine again.

[alexanderlightweight]

Help I have been wandering in the forest of your writing for days now, looking for a specific post, but as much as I’m enjoying myself I can’t find that one post. Directions, please?

It’s the one where Alec wants to move in but Magnus says no because it’s too soon and Alec is upset. Catarina then says to Magnus something to the effect of “But Alec already lives with you???” And then Magnus realizes he essentially subconsciously moved Alec into the loft ages ago and starts making an effort to intentionally make the loft Alex’s home also and they talk and it’s lovely and hits all my hurt/comfort sweet spots.

anon it has been so long, but I am finally here with the answer if you'd still like it. I found it (and you're correct its nearly impossible to find and search words don't really help) so i've also named it home is wherever i'm with you so that it can be found again and easier, but also a link.

i hope you enjoy it again if you see this <3 and I added a little extra of comfort since it took so long to answer and really was a nightmare to find

-lumine

home is wherever i'm with you

Alec blinks awake to sunlight warm on his back and a solid, steady heartbeat under his ear.

It feels like forever since Alec's been able to wake not just in Magnus' bed, but with Magnus and he cuddles closer. True, memories are already surfacing and he's remembering the night before. The panic and then the devastation when he'd been unable to recognize the door and uncertain of his welcome.

Now, Alec can better understand the little changes he saw.

Magnus refit the lair to fit them, both of them.

It warms something in Alec that has him smiling against Magnus' shoulder. Fingers move through his hair, petting him and then scratching at his scalp and Alec frowns when he doesn't remember anything besides hugging Magnus with relief. Because they hadn't been breaking up, Magnus had been moving Alec in. Officially. In one of the most dramatic ways ever and now that it's over, Alec can look on it fondly.

Because Magnus up to his elbows in a dimensional drawer and distraught over how many clothes he destroys in want of Alec was hilarious.

In context and after a lot of sleep.

"You can sleep longer." Magnus murmurs, an almost whisper against his hair and Alec shakes his head. It's rare that they get time like this together, he wants to savor every moment. "Will you eat with me then, before you go back to the Institute?"

Alec struggles with the question for a moment before he wriggles free of Magnus hold. The look of betrayal on Magnus face before he pulls up a mask probably matches the one Alec himself frequently wears when Magnus denies him kisses.

"I'll call out." He finally manages to get out and he's definitely more tired than he thought. Magnus looks horrified by the state of his voice and summons a tall glass of a magenta colored liquid. Protest lingers on his lips but Magnus looks so worried and if Alec isn't careful, he'll blame himself. It's with a sigh that Alec finishes his text message and then takes the drink.

It's not Magnus' fault that Alec was feeling especially vulnerable due to Clave reviews and the fact that a larger wave of shadowhunters is transferring out of his once Institute than in.

It will be that way for a while. Until Alec's proved himself and also his relationship.

However it's difficult for Alec to let down his guard at the Institute anymore. The spaces he's created, full of safety and vitality and rest, they're all centered around and spaces shared with or created by Magnus.

Those spaces don't exist in the Institute.

It's not Magnus' fault that Alec found himself trapped in a storm without a harbor, the lighthouse he'd headed to a mirage rather than reality.

However that's been fixed and Alec understands it better.

Of course Magnus would be hesitant. It's been over a century since he's opened his home up to be shared and that kind of isolation can make ones instincts lean towards insular.

Alec finishes the drink and watches as Magnus snaps the glass away. Perhaps to the same realm of oblivion that all his clothes have gone.

"Better?"

-

Alexander shrugs and instead turns back into a limpet.

Strong arms curl around Magnus and his lap is stolen as Alexander insistently takes up more and more of his space until they're lying entwined.

"I'm sorry I was too much." Magnus barely gets the words out before he flinches from a small pinch to his thigh and he sighs. Bitter amusement fills his heart, "fine. I'm sorry I let my fears and traumas get the best of me. Is that more acceptable?"

Trust Alexander to hold a grudge against something as simple as a phrase that's hurt Magnus a time or two. His darling won't hear of Magnus being 'too much' in his presence.

"If I don't get to self-flagellate you don't get to." Is the grumbled - but much smoother sounded - voice of his beloved. "Stop being mean to my boyfriend. If I'm not allowed to be mean to your boyfriend, you're not allowed to be mean to mine."

Magnus carefully swallows down a snort of laughter and instead presses a kiss to Alexander's hair.

AN:

Magnus to Alec: hey, stop talking shit about my boyfriend. i'm the high warlock of Brooklyn, you don't say shit about my man

Alec: ... I was just commenting on how my performance on the field has been lacking-

Magnus: HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY SHADOWHUNTER

(Alec has learned and is now paying Magnus back)

Alec: fight me (to Magnus about how magnus isn't allowed to be mean to himself)

Magnus: is this foreplay?

Alec: let me monologue how much I love you

Magnus: oh no. this isn't foreplay. this is emotional maturity and I have already filled this weeks quota. CAT!!!!!

Cat: oh no, you brought this on yourself. wallow in your positive emotions magnus. WALLOW.

[vaaaaaiolet]

um ok tldr i had a very strange long overdue crashout and am checking myself into the hiatus ward until further notice LMAO

so if that's all you're here for I LOVE YOU!! and goodbye <3

so for the rest of you nosy people (MY PEOPLE!!), here's your james charles apology video.

i don't like being negative on this blog. unfortunately a bunch of goals and commitments need my attention right now (have been for the last 5 months actually) and i'm diverting my energy to writing instead, except writing's not really making me happy either? i feel obligated to write (entirely my fault, literally no one is pushing me) and it makes me indifferent towards a hobby i really loved at one point. also it's been like. three years of writing for one character from one franchise if you count before i started posting. that's 52,460 words about ONE WHITE MAN!! i've tried dismissing and denying the feeling by pushing myself through wips but i'm straight up burnt out.

fanfic etiquette also sucks ass rn and while i've been lucky to be spared from the brunt of it, it's pretty discouraging to write for empty likes and no feedback. times change and people switch fandoms. right now i'm spending too much time daydreaming behind a screen, gambling on reader response, missing out on life experiences people my age are getting. i'm not happy with the way i've let fandom related worries seep into my real life. maybe i'm just shit at handling my priorities. i want to stop writing about the world and start living in it.

this really isn't that serious i'm just a dramatic bitch LMFAO there are lots of insanely brilliant, talented authors on here + ao3 waiting for you to read their work!! in the meantime, i can't wait to become a reader again. medicine is one of my biggest passions. i haven't been devoting time to it like i have my writing hobby and i'm feeling unfulfilled in that regard too.

thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you i've met on here. i've only ever had the sweetest readers. i can't ever repay you for your kind words, but i hope you know each one made me scream and jump and happy cry. some of you have been here from the very start and i don't know what i did to make you stay, but it means the world to me. new faces and old timers alike, i love you.

and i wouldn't be who i am without my mutuals. you guys have broken my heart and stitched it up again with your prose, and i can't thank you enough for the hours of laughter we've had while separated by our screens. i look up to every one of you. more than the rush of writing, i'll miss this warm corner we made together on the internet most. let's get coffee if you're ever in town?

HOO BOY OKAY so that's everything that's been on my mind for the last few months. literally nobody cares and the world keeps spinning. i'll be logging out right after i post this otherwise i'd stay forever (and continue burning myself out to nobody's benefit). i still hope i cross paths with y'all again real soon :)

stay healthy, drink water, i love you <3

[allmyworth]

More headcanons! (Because Boboiboy Tumblr is looking a little too dry..)

Hello again, I return because I am starved for content, but why not throw out some while I'm at it? !Kokotaim gang edition!

>They like hanging out at the TAPOPS-U a lot because they are teenagers and once you give a teenager a space where only they have access to- You should've seen it coming, honestly.. >Yaya is fully aware that her biscuits could kill a whale but refuses to accept that fact and admit that her friends are right. She will force them down someone's throat and take that gamble of whether or not they end up in the ER. Or die. Either or-- She is willing.

>Gopal may not be book smart, but he is street smart. His grades may not be A's, but underestimate him for a second and the next thing you know-- You fell right into his genius trap and left gaping. The gang usually looks to Gopal for a plan-- As absurd as some of his plans may be-- They actually seem to succeed to work better than what was originally planned! >Boboiboy gets emotional very easily. Like, easily. He has a soft heart. Show him a sad film and he'll be the first to tear up. Boboiboy used to be very ashamed of the fact that he couldn't control his emotions and fit into society's definition of a 'man' and used to be quite heavily defensive, sassy, and sarcastic because if he wasn't-- He'd cry. But! He's learned that he is safe around his friends. They would not judge him if they spotted him with red rimmed eyes, just a silent understanding and the kind act of trying to cheer him up. He is still very much sarcastic and sassy-- But it isn't to hide anymore. >Fang came to the horrifying realization that he views Gopal and Boboiboy as his older brothers and Yaya and Ying as his younger sisters after the fight with Kaizo. Did he tell them? No. Is he still going to drift off to the sounds of their voices only? Yes. Is he still going to feel a gaping hole in his chest whenever he goes out on missions with just his brother? Yes. Is he going to dream about them once he eventually out lives them? Yes. Is he going to desperately try and keep their memories alive despite it being more and more futile as he ages? Also yes. Don't try to corner him on this-- He will summon a shadow squirrel to crawl into your pants. Don't test him.

>Ying has learned to shut down whenever something pisses her off. She doesn't really want to do this, but she'd rather shut down than lash out and hurt someone again. She hated being pissed off and misdirecting her anger onto her friends instead. Now? She stays quiet, silently brooding and distancing herself. Her friends reassure her that it's okay, that she's still growing up, that she'll learn to control it-- But she doesn't want to hear it. She'd rather isolate herself than make Boboiboy cry again, or make the rest of the gang uncomfortable, or make Yaya upset, or be the reason why laughter wasn't permitted whenever she was around and brooding. Ying knows, Ying understands, Ying learns, and this is the best she can do. Even if she yearns for Yaya to come into the room and just sit with her, just hold her, just let her breathe, to breathe with her.

Those are the headcanons I'll write so far and maybe next time I'll write up some more! These are just headcanons and if you don't agree with them-- That's completely fine! Everyone is entitled to their own opinion! These are just what I like to imagine in my little hellscape I call; my brain.

[soleillunne]

aly!! if u still want prompts to write: how about stargazing with aether? if you don’t feel comfy writing for him, then kazu would be lovely too :] <33

HIHI ofc i'll write for aether omg i love him but since youre the only one to indulge me you get a treat hehe

aether.

The stars were especially bright tonight—no clouds, no moon, just a velvet sky stretched wide above, freckled with ancient light. You stood near the edge of a quiet cliff in Windrise, arms folded loosely as the breeze ruffled your clothes. Below, the trees swayed in rhythm with the wind. Above, the constellations watched silently. It was the kind of night that made the world feel too big and too still all at once.

You turned your head slightly.

Aether stood just behind you, eyes lifted to the sky.

He didn’t speak, of course. You hadn’t expected him to. He was still, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his expression unreadable in the soft dark—but you knew that look. He was somewhere far away, in thoughts you couldn’t quite reach, somewhere between memories of stars and the weight of everything he’d left behind.

“Come sit with me,” you said gently, your voice barely louder than the wind.

He blinked once, as if pulled from a dream, and followed as you walked a few steps back from the cliff’s edge. You spread out the blanket you’d brought, dropped down onto it, and leaned back on your elbows with a content sigh. The grass underneath was soft, cool from the night air.

Aether hesitated for just a moment, then sat beside you.

Close—closer than usual. His knee brushed yours, and when you tilted your head to look at him, you found him already glancing your way. His gaze didn’t linger, though. It drifted back to the sky.

“Paimon’s going to sulk when she finds out we left her behind for stargazing,” you mused, trying to keep your tone light.

That earned you the softest sound—a small huff, the closest thing to a laugh Aether ever made when he wasn’t talking. He shook his head slowly, golden hair swaying with the motion.

“She’ll forgive us,” you added, glancing up again. “Eventually.”

A long stretch of quiet followed. You didn’t mind. Being with Aether always felt like this—comfortable, slow, like a river with a gentle current. He never rushed you, and you never needed to fill the silence with empty words.

You shifted to lie down fully, arms crossed behind your head. “You used to travel through the stars,” you murmured, eyes tracing the shimmering line of the Milky Way. “Did they always look like this from up there?”

Aether didn’t answer right away. His hand moved, slowly, sliding across the blanket until his fingers brushed against yours. He didn’t speak. Just curled his hand into yours, warm and steady, like it was the only answer that mattered.

You tilted your head toward him again. “Do you miss it?”

This time, he looked at you. Really looked—eyes gleaming faintly in the dark, golden and ancient and so heartbreakingly quiet. He held your gaze for a long while, and then, in the softest voice—barely audible—he whispered:

“No.”

Just that. One word. But in Aether’s world, one word could hold galaxies.

Your throat tightened. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grounding him back to the moment, back to you. He squeezed back, almost absentmindedly, like the motion had become instinct.

You shifted again, rolling onto your side and tugging him gently toward you. He followed without protest, resting his head against your shoulder, his hand still tangled with yours. The weight of him was warm and real. It reminded you that despite everything—despite all he’d lost, all he still searched for—he was here. Choosing to stay. Choosing to rest.

You kissed his forehead, the gesture slow and careful. “Then I won’t ask again,” you whispered.

Aether didn’t respond in words. He never needed to. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together, the rise and fall of his chest steady against yours. His thumb moved along the back of your hand in quiet patterns, like a rhythm he didn’t realize he was keeping.

Above, the stars spun slowly in the sky, but down here, time didn’t seem to move at all.

And for once, Aether let himself be still—no quests, no maps, no roles to play. Just a boy who’d seen too much, resting beneath the stars with someone who loved him in silence.

And you held him like he was the only light you needed in the vastness of the night.

kazuha.

The breeze carries the scent of salt and summer grass as you lie beside Kazuha on the soft hillside. It’s late—far past when most of the world begins to sleep—but the two of you remain here, stretched out beneath the vast sprawl of the sky. A blanket is tucked beneath you, and another is draped over both your shoulders, his arm lazily looped around you beneath its warmth. Every now and then, you feel his thumb brushing slow circles against your arm, soft as the wind.

The stars are scattered like wildflowers across the night. Some are brighter than others, pulsing in silence, while others blur into soft clusters too distant to name. You don’t know the constellations well. But Kazuha—he knows many of them by heart.

He hums lowly beside you, chin tilted up, lips parted slightly as though to whisper a poem into the dark. He does that sometimes—when words fill him to the brim and the world feels too still to contain them. But tonight, he’s quieter than usual. Contemplative. Peaceful.

Your gaze shifts from the sky to him. His white hair glows faintly under starlight, and there’s a serene contentment in his expression that makes your chest ache. He’s beautiful like this. Not just because of how he looks—but because of how he feels. Because every time you look at him, you feel steady. Anchored. Safe.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, without looking your way.

You blink, lips curling into a smile. “So are you.”

“Not at you, though,” he replies softly, the smallest tease in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow. “Mm. Should I be offended?”

He turns his head toward you, and there’s that look—half amusement, half adoration, all Kazuha. “Never,” he breathes, leaning in until his forehead brushes gently against yours. “But if I’m to be honest… the stars pale a little when you’re beside me.”

You laugh, because of course he’d say something poetic, even now. “You always say things like that.”

“Do I?” he asks, closing his eyes for a moment like he’s absorbing the rhythm of your voice. “Then it must be because they’re always true.”

You roll your eyes fondly and settle back against him, tucking your head against his shoulder. His warmth is familiar, grounding, and when he sighs, you feel it in your bones.

The night stretches on quietly. You talk about everything and nothing—old travels, the sound of cicadas in Inazuma summers, favorite songs, favorite dreams. At one point, he reaches up and points to a cluster of stars near the horizon.

“There,” he says softly. “Do you see those two? That’s Vega and Altair. In Liyue, they say they’re two lovers—Vega, the goddess of the sky, and Altair, a mortal—separated by the heavens. The Sky keeps them apart, but once a year, a bridge of magpies forms to let them meet again.”

You follow the line of his finger, watching the stars glitter like tiny lanterns across the dark. You’ve heard pieces of the story before—how the girl fell in love with the boy, how the gods tore them apart. But somehow, hearing it in Kazuha’s voice makes it feel different. Closer. Like it belongs to the two of you.

“They’re allowed to see each other just once?” you ask, quiet.

He nods. “On the seventh day of the seventh lunar month. Only then.”

You swallow. “That sounds… achingly unfair.”

“It is,” he agrees, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. “But also beautiful. That no matter the distance, no matter the years—they always wait. Always believe. Just to have one night together.”

Your chest tightens, breath caught somewhere between sorrow and awe. He isn’t just talking about stars. You feel it in the gentle way his voice folds around the words. In how his thumb brushes over your hand, like a promise.

You turn slightly, brushing your lips against his shoulder. “Even if I lost you, I’d find my way back.”

His breath catches. “And I’d wait for you, even if it meant a thousand years.”

The silence that follows is full—not empty. It's heavy with unspoken truths and a shared heartbeat. The kind of silence that only lives between people who have bled through storms and still reached for each other in the dark. Who would cross skies. Who already have.

Eventually, you lie back again, staring up at the sky. Kazuha rests beside you, his fingers laced with yours, his voice barely a whisper when he speaks again.

“I used to chase the wind like it was the only thing that mattered,” he says. “But now… now, I think I’ve found something even more infinite.”

You smile into the dark. “The stars?”

“No,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “You.”

And under the quiet, endless sky, with his hand in yours and the wind singing through the leaves, you believe him. With all your heart.

--

the story i used for kazuha's part is found here, i thought it was really fitting. i also found another one similar to this one, which is here, but i think this second story doesn't have a connection to the stars so i ended up not using that

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

WIP Whenever!

Thanks @fenrelmercar for the tag 💕💕💕 Many comforts to you this coming week! [vibrating with joy that someone tagged me today BECAUSE GUESS WHO WAS UP TIL 1 AM WORKING ON CHAPTER 5 OF CARRY THE DAGGER 💪]

What I really should have done is cut this stupid thing in half, but I had an OUTLINE and everything and it STILL ran from me. My loves I will have this beast posted TONIGHT before midnight or ON MY OWN HEAD BE IT *holds up Fenris (a la @fenrelmercar 's plot bunny* And I'll let this thing rip out my heart.

The rogue glanced at her. “You could stay in Dock Town. Keep an eye on your Shadow Dragons. Leave Fade nonsense behind and build your bonds with who you already know. Varric may have hired you, but you’re not obligated to stay at the Lighthouse and run through the Arlathan, or Treviso, or wherever while the Venatori wander your home. I’ll have your back, whatever you decide, but if you don’t want to leave–” 

“No, it’s not that, I promise. I just…” She sighed. “Have a habit of picking jobs that go sideways. You’d think I’d learn.” 

Lucanis chuckled wryly, leaning against the wooden rail with his back to the sea. “You’re not alone in that.” 

She chuckled, her gaze wandering to the assassin with a crooked slash of a smile. She was about to speak again when Lucanis peered over her shoulder and footsteps clunked to a stop at the end of the dock. 

Rook turned to see a reedy woman in studded leathers and a brown canvas hood fold her arms. “You the one they’re calling Rook?” 

“...Who’s asking?” Rook frowned, resting their hands on their hips.

“Messenger. You’ve got a summons.” 

“Summons?” A flicker of an irreverent grin touched their mouth. “I don’t get summons.” 

“Bunch of Grey Wardens lookin’ for you. Said you’d be here.” 

Rook’s gaze lit with a mixture of emotions just as volatile as their gear. Relief, confusion, alarm. “But Harding hasn’t– I– okay!” 

They were halfway to flitting to the messenger’s side before Neve grabbed their shoulder. “Hey. You might need back up.” 

“For– Oh. Yes, please, come with me!” Rook tugged her sleeve. Lucanis followed quietly behind, wondering if Rook made a habit of dashing after the first messenger that tried to give them good news. He knew how hopeful they were about making contact with the Grey Wardens, but as they’d surmised, Harding hadn’t said anything about her contacts writing back. Could it be a trap? Who else would have known their merry band was searching for Warden aid? 

The messenger led them to the marble steps of the Cobbled Swan. The usually frequented exterior was deserted, eerily quiet. 

Two Wardens in winged helms flanked the doors, spears in hand, expressions stoic. Rook hesitated only briefly, gaze flicking with no small amount of awe to the picturesque guards. Lucanis felt a glimmer of recognition and some fascination at the sight of their plate mail glinting in the sun, like something out of a fairytale. He moved to follow Rook up the steps. 

The Warden on the left crossed his spear over the doorway. “Just you,” he said gruffly, looking down his nose at the Veil Jumper. 

“Just me?” Rook cocked their head, tone taking on that light and knowing quality as it did when they were about to make a joke. “But I get nervous.”

The Warden didn’t dignify them with a response, spear stubbornly in place. 

“I can’t bring my emotional support? Maker. Wardens are hard core.” They turned to Lucanis with a sigh and a shrug, blue eyes bright with laughter. “Not my fault if I start shaking like a leaf and pee on the floor.” 

Neve scoffed. “If you’re going… just be careful.” 

“Hey, only good news from here. Or I’m really gonna start shaking.” Rook laughed and nudged the detective’s arm. “I’ll be out in just a second.” 

Neve didn’t like it, and frankly neither did Lucanis. But he stayed put, brow furrowed, as the Warden lifted his spear and allowed Rook to pass inside the tavern. The hair on his arms was standing up. 

WOO! Also, yeehaw, because I HAVE SOME MORE OF MY WESTERN AU WIP 🤪 "I Feel A Change On the Rise"

“Then get up there and check it! Something ain’t right– tell Uthern to get the hell down here!”  The rogue whipped the door open and flicked a knife from their belt into one hand, unholstering their pistol in the other as they twisted into the room. Shadow. They flung the knife.  It sprouted like a grotesque flower from the brow of a burly mercenary in a wide brimmed hat. His eyes rolled, he fell. The second one, skinny and reaching for the far door, already had a gun in his hand.  Rook pulled the trigger, jerking to the side as two gunshots rang out in tandem. His went wide. Rook’s got him in the thigh. Sloppy. He crumpled with a cry and Rook planted their boot in the chest of his fallen friend, yanking their first blade free as they adjusted their aim with the clicking of the barrel.  The revolver barked again, and the thin man fell.  Blood splattered the door handle. Rook sheathed their knife and pulled it open anyway. The next car. Another long, narrow hallway of crates. Another swinging lantern. Back… and forth…  Rook crossed the space on long strides and pressed their ear to the door– before drawing back with a hiss. This metal was hot. Boiler room, then? Once more, they wrapped their patterned scarf around their free hand and hauled the door aside. They were assaulted by a blast of heat, the space bathed in a red glow. Hissing steam shrieked from valves all around the main array of the chamber, where three men were rapidly unscrewing bolts and dumping buckets of water on any exposed metal.  A small circular port was smoking, embers recently extinguished. Part of the sheet metal arching over them all had buckled inward from strain– raw stone was visible in the dim through the dents, and the table beneath it was coated in a fine layer of dust.  The first man didn’t even notice the rogue. He got a bullet in his back.  The second whirled, gasping, crowbar in hand. He lunged on instinct with a wide swing. The blow would have caved Rook’s head in if they hadn’t ducked. They swept his legs out from under him, and he hit the ground hard on a clattering bucket. He didn’t get up.  The third man ran.  Rook let him.  He was average looking. Human. In a wool coat and bowler hat a little too nice to belong in a dusty old mercantile train full of thugs. Red-brown hair, a thin goatee.  Rook holstered their revolver, turning to follow the escapee, strides long and unhurried. They blinked away a bead of sweat as it fell into their eyes.  Back the way they’d come, under the swaying lanterns. Back… and forth… One foot… the other…  The man’s footsteps pounded down the hall. He made it to the side door and its iron bar. He flung himself against it, fumbling with the latch, boots crunching in the shattered glass. As Rook walked, they unclipped the leather sling that held a length of sturdy elven rope on their belt. “Hello, Julius.”  The former Mayor of D'Meta's Crossing cowered, sweat slick hands pulling away from the iron bar as he held them up in surrender. “Rook! I– hello-! Fancy seeing you… here-” He laughed, swallowing visibly. As his throat bobbed, he held out his hands, eyes darting about for any other hope of escape. “I know how this looks. But surely we can come to some kind of compromise.”  “I imagine you know exactly what I’m here for.” In easy, patient strides, Rook unspooled their loops of lasso between their hands with casual intent. They acknowledged the thrill of vindictive pleasure humming in their chest. It made them feel as if they could grow fangs. Spit real venom. But they kept their movements slow and purposed as molasses. 

Tagging some of my loves! Bring the madness! Whatcha got?! (Nothing is a valid answer. Because it means you're resting your gigantic brain and I adore you for it always. No pressure, ever. Stay safe and warm out there!) @andthekitchensinkao3 @draco-illius-noctis @davrinsleftpectoral @nevarrantorte @nananarc @hedwigoprah @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @caughtnyact @jenn2d2

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[just-null]

i have come here to personally thank you for giving me more than i asked for 🙏🏻 i am utterly grateful like IDJFKDKKFODOD 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ it made me so happy the last doodle has my heart he is so cute i will eat him

also there is a DROUGHT out there for us noritoshi fans like im living on CRUMBS its insane and omg dont even talk to me abt how it feels like to be a kashimo and ino lover (altho they are getting a bit more love now) my nori is still underrated :/ sooo hence im asking ur hand in friendship and in exchange i promise to share my hcs with you abt nori my sweet lil meow meow we're in this together 💪🏻💪🏻

also since its October, do you think he likes horror movies? i feel like he can withstand gory movies but its the jumpscares that get him and he wont tell u he's scared when u watch one with jumpscares owkfkdkd imagine him hiding his face against ur shoulder or something 😭😭😭 (i used to do that with my dad when we watched horror movies and i used to be like im not scared😤😤 when he asked if i was lmfao thats where this hc stemmed from)

N. NORITOSHI HIDING IN YOUR SHOULDER OR SUPPRESSING HIS REACTIONS TO THE JUMPSCARES....... WAS IT AN INVOLUNTARY REACTION TO USE YOU TO HIDE??????? WAS IT BUILT UP TRUST????? DID HE GROW USED TO HOLDING ONTO YOU WHEN HE GETS SURPRISED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE HAS HIS VALUABLES SAFE????????? WAS IT A MOMENT WHERE HIS MIND JUST INSTINCTIVELY GRABBED THE FIRST THING HE WANTED TO PROTECT/BE PROTECTED BY???????? OH MY FUCK.

he's probably used to gore and gritty stuff like that since he sees it often being a jujutsu sorcerer and all. not to mention his technique is literally blood. maybe he's desensitized to gore films, the most you'll get from him is a disgusted scowl.

BUT DID YOU SEE HOW QUICK HIS EYE OPENED WHEN HANAMI SHOWED UP BEHIND HIM. YOURE SO FUCKING FR ABT JUMPSCARES. Noritoshi is that guy who wouldn't scream or yelp but gasp really loudly and jump out of his skin.

i feel like they get him most in horror because of the music building up anticipation. if its one of those fake outs where the jumpscare comes a bit after, he's fucked UP. It makes him instantly miffed, as he tries to regain his composure. He swears he's not usually like this, it got him by surprise is all..!

Noritoshi is the type that'd only watch a horror movie if the story is rich and complex. He's the type of guy to like open endings that make you think.. if it's a guilty pleasure movie where all the protags make stupid decisions, he gets annoyed right off the bat.

He's groaning and complaining about how imbecile the characters are, but would still watch it with you because you personally invited him. If he's lucky you could fall asleep on his shoulder or [insert movie cliche here] how could he pass that up? But Noritoshi wouldn't be able to focus on you if he gets twice as annoyed because its a bad movie + jumpscares. it still startles him, but the movie is so terrible, he's embarrassed it got him, especially in front of you!!!

if you get involved and you tell him to quiet down, Noritoshi would shift his focus towards you. like that awkward guy who thinks he's being smooth and lowkey about how he cuddles up next to you. He wants to be the tough guy who's shoulder you can hide in, and he is!! just not.. with jumpscares.......

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[justworthlessreblogs]

since i thought of it while i was typing up my last post: fuck jean-pierre, all my homies hate jean-pierre. that man isn't a good mentor and i'll never believe the show's insistence that he is. from what we see of him in the show he seems to come across as more of just a guy who gave kirapika a space to work on their sweets than a guy who actually taught them. all while i was watching the movie i was like. so there's gonna be a moment to show why ciel cares about this guy so much right. right. and it never came. you can absolutely construct an argument that he is partially why kirapika's situation turned out the way it did in paris: the way jean-pierre only ever cares about sweets (the very first time we see him in the movie he's criticizing ciel for slacking on her sweets, iirc) and his emphasis on working alone influencing kirarin, while causing pikario, who was struggling with his sweets and would've benefited a lot from some support, to spiral further. if jean-pierre barely gave kirarin, the star student, the time of day i doubt it was much better for pikario

[zestyzigzagoon]

I have a new little icon that I love very much. not only does it have beta design zigzagoon (the best zigzagoon), but there's a LEMON pattern. because it's ZESTY. get it. lemon zest,,,, zestyzigzagoon... 🥁

[mothusband]

just came in from sitting outside for nearly 2 hrs. I feel ALIVE.

[meownotgood]

OMG ASK GAME???!!! 🥹🤗 IM SO HYPEEE. okay lemme ask no.21 and 26 pls and thank u. Okay for the freebie question I always wanted to ask you: when did you realize that you LOVE Aki? Not like “hey this character is my fave” but the “yeah, I’m down bad and in love” stage.

thank you so much for asking me :D and sorry it took me a moment to get to answering 🏃‍♀️

21) if you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for them? what's something you don't like?

aki is so fun to write... I really enjoy writing his personality and his dialogue!! I love writing him in all different aus and ideas but my favorite thing is when I get to write cutie romantic aki... I think he'd canonically be such a shy sweetheart when it comes to romance... forever obsessed with writing him as the sweetie he is. also I often browse the manga when I'm writing for him to better understand his dialogue and little quirks!!

and as far as something I don't like... hmmm there isn't much I can think of, I do really enjoy writing dialogue for him, but sometimes it can be hard because he's so matter-of-fact when he speaks haha

and for the freebie... okay so basically... aki was always my fave when I first read the manga, but once I actually finished it that's when I fell in love... I think the conclusion to his story is so beautiful. and it really shows all the pieces coming into place, and how kind he is and how much he's changed as a character because of his love for denji and power. it made me so emotional, and after that I couldn't stop thinking of him :,)

[teh-nos]

.

[silent-sentinels]

ooh okay. lemme just say, i was onto something with the weakness chart idea??