#and the title is for both of them

[mctna2019]

Pull me to life

Nights haven't usually been relaxing for you. "you can even sleep standing up easily." Yeon used to say. you laughed, although at night, when she fell asleep, you stared at her in silence and darkness while thousands of thoughts crawled in your brain like worms. Yeon's medicine, her illness, her security, your small savings. worry and fear were consuming you till you wanted to hold your head and scream. suddenly your mind was opening a door to hope. Seon-ho was there. in all the pains, worries and hardships. it didn't matter if he was helping or not or you were wanting that from him, he always was there. you never wanted his father's money to solve your and Yeon's life problems. just the presence of him and his encouragement was enough. you just were grateful for all he did in those hard times to making life easier for you two

That big room was like an ocean that you were sinking into. you never once considered it your own, not any other place in that mansion. except where you and your mother lived before Min-ho's death. that small and shabby room felt safe for you. when your mother's hands would hug you to sleep and you would breathe in her scent and sleep easily. then you had to sleep in Min-ho's grave. maybe Min-ho didn't forgive you for living instead of him. or maybe your mother's sad soul was wandering in that mansion to take the peace of its inhabitants. because that mansion was full of ghosts who wanted peace from your father. there was only one place where you could feel alive. the feeling that you aren't living instead of no one but yourself. there you could laugh freely and not have a heavy weight on your heart. Hwi and Yeon waited for you with big smiles on their face.

You could only go to that point, not more. those walls around him wouldn't let you in. even in that times, it wasn't easy to understand Seon-ho's feelings. it was as if there was always an invisible aura around him that didn't allow you to penetrate. he could walk through it and come to you, but not you. and you wanted to know more. you wanted to find the reason for the sadness hidden behind his eyes. it never occurred to you what exactly brought him to the point of standing in front of you, or indeed you standing in front of him.because in these years, one by one, you destroyed all the walls of your mind, and he was buried under its rubble. now when you pull him out from under the rubble, wounded and half alive, that invisible aura is no longer around him. he's alone, scared and helpless. it doesn't matter how he pretends to hate you and is angry with his eyes or push your hand away. in the end, he's just a lonely boy in the rubble.

Sometimes you want to shout at him and tell him the whole truth you buried in your heart. in the past, it didn't matter how much you lied or pretended that you didn't have a problem, he could only understand from your eyes that you aren't ok. but now he looks at you with indifference and says things that grab your heart and make it harder for you to pretend. all the memories of the distant years pass before your eyes and you continue to paddle in this dirty ocean until maybe one day everything will be better. for Hwi, Yeon and maybe yourself. as your mother willed. as Hwi asked you before the military exam to change the world and he believed in you. so you parted your own way from him for he wouldn't get hurt. because only you knew how dangerous and disgusting this way is. as more blood engulfs you, you survive with happy memories of Hwi and Yeon. it isn't time to give up yet.

There are still many thoughts in your mind at night. you don't worry about Yeon anymore, because she's no longer sick and you aren't so poor. because Yeon isn't here at all. you just miss her. now your whole mind is full of unanswered questions about him. you don't want to think about his death. that he killed himself or was killed by now. You'll not mourn him. not as long as he's alive in your mind. not until he's wounded and alone in the shelter of your mind. not until you find him by yourself. you look for him everywhere. even in that big room where the dust of oblivion is sitting on it. his prison that you just realized after years. so you don't stop and keep looking for him. until you find him and remove the pain of all the past years from his broken heart.

When your hands couldn't touch her cold body, when all your efforts were in vain and when you saw the lonely crane with a broken wing, you decided not to let your father live in peace till you live. this was your mission, not Hwi. he shouldn't get blood on his hands more than this. you'd drown in blood and drag your father down with you too. Hwi has to live, even if he doesn't want to. you're sorry, because of everything he's been through. because of the warm smile that no longer shine in his eyes. you just keep fighting a little longer. when you push away his warm hand with your cold hand, when your heart is empty of all motivation to survive and fight, you'll understand that your existence hasn't benefited anyone. you realize that all these years you have only breathed in vain. and then he's here, with eyes you've never seen before and desperately asking you to keep living.

[lurukifennecfox]

The spirit of Amity Park and Lady Gotham

Amity was a strong spirit. stronger than any city her size or age had any right to be, but she was, and she was going to make it matter.

Gotham was old, she was strong but sick and cursed so she couldn't do much but make her shadows that much darker, enough to be unseen, make her sounds that much louder enough to be unheard, guide the debris or a stray bullet a little to the left so that it would only graze not kill. even sick and hurt she was stubborn and she would make it matter.

Amity was younger than Gotham, most were, but Gotham was impressed with her. just like her Protector Amity was way too strong and way too young and very ambitious and protective of Hers.

they had that in common, Gotham was protective, Possesive. Her people were hers and hers only if they weren't Amity's first she couldn't take them, she would.

Amity was like her people, she was adaptive, sceptical but friendly, hard to gain trust from but loyal if you did. Amity was like her Protectors, she was determined and protective, she was fun but serious.

Gotham was like her people, she was a survivor, untrusting and brash, stubborn but flexible. Gotham was like her Bats, she was curious but secretive, protective to the point of possesivnes, calculated but quippy.

Amity was young and her form reflected that, she looked like a pre-teen like most her Protectors, her wheat blonde hair in star clipped twin-tails, a replica of the Ops Centre for a hat, eyes bright green and glowing freckles dusting her cheeks. her clothes were bright like her houses, always having funny accents and accessories and teared holes, her nails were painted but always chipped.

her laughter was loud with explosions and honking of cars and her voice was chipper and cracking.

Gotham was mature and so was her form, her hair black, iridescent and dripping like an oil spill, her face sickly pale(or ashen) and eyes solid yellow with bat shaped pupils (they were blood red before, just like her lips are) she is always dressed in black, blending with her shadows, clothes elegant but ripped and dirty, bloody pearls on her neck, black claws dripping oil like her hair, breath fogging with smog.

her laughter had clanking of weapons and banging of shots, her voice was raspy and strangled.

Amity looked up to Gotham, her determination and stubborn persistence to protect Hers, her funny quips and sarcastic comments.

They weren't too far by city spirit standards, they were on the same continent after all. And Amity could be that much farther, that much closer, just on the other side of the veil. Amity was in the Realms once, she knew the way back.

[velarisdusk]

I Slept with Someone in Wings of Illyria

A Bat Boys Band AU

word count: 1.5k author's note: i have not been able to stop thinking about bass player az, nor have i been able to shut up about it (exhibits A, B, and C found here lol). i am so taken with bass player azriel that this was originally gonna be a one time thing to get the mf thoughts out of my head, but i may make this a collection of drabbles/one-shots/whatever the fuck. enjoy ! <3 ✦ . AU Masterlist . ✦ ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The room is sweltering, the kind of heat that clings to your skin and wraps around your throat. Bodies pressed together, arms raised, the crowd surges with the beat, their cheers deafening as the final notes of the song fade out. 

Cassian tosses his drumsticks in the air, catching them with a grin as he leans back, his chest heaving from the sheer energy of his playing. His skin glistens under the stage lights, sweat dripping down the sharp cut of his jaw to his bare chest. Rhysand steps forward, guitar slung low on his hips, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, the movement so casual it borders on taunting. 

The three of them are magnetic—untouchable—but your eyes are glued to Azriel. 

The bass still hangs low across his hips, his dark shirt clinging to his chest and arms, every inch of him shining with effort and heat. His hair sticks to his forehead in damp strands, but he doesn’t seem to care. There’s a faint curve to his lips as he looks out at the crowd, their screams refusing to die down even as Rhys steps up to the mic.  It’s Wings of Illyria’s last song of the night, and the air is thick with anticipation.

“Alright, alright,” Rhys says, his voice rich and smooth, but it barely registers over the roar of the audience. He glances back at Az and Cass, shaking his head with a laugh, and you catch the way they all exchange a look—silent, knowing.

Cass twirls a drumstick between his fingers, grinning wide. Rhys throws a wink at the crowd, and Azriel… Azriel holds up a hand, palm out, a subtle watch this gesture that has your stomach flipping. 

And then he steps forward.

The moment his fingers graze the mic stand, the noise dips. He leans in, his lips brushing the mic, and inhales sharply. The sound carries through the speakers, intimate, like he’s right there beside you. The crowd freezes, the energy shifting into something electric, breathless. And then, he chuckles.

It’s low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, the room is still. And then, chaos. The screams erupt again, louder than before, like every single person in the crowd had been seized by something primal and uncontrollable.

Azriel laughs, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Rhys and Cass. They’re laughing too, Cassian smacking a hand against his drums while Rhys shakes his head, mouthing something you can’t make out. 

But then Az turns back to the mic. 

Your heart stops as he adjusts it slightly, his hand steady, his expression calm but sharp, focused. The moment stretches, and you swear he looks right at you before his lips part, and his voice spills into the venue. 

It’s not Rhys’s voice this time, not the smooth, cocky tone that usually owns the opening of this song. No—this is something darker, rougher, saturated with a raw kind of emotion that makes your knees go weak. You know this part by heart—hell, you’ve screamed it in your car more times than you can count—but hearing Azriel sing it? It’s like hearing it for the first time. 

He owns it, every word dripping with purpose, with heat. His voice snakes through the room, curling around you, pulling you under. The crowd is a blur, the sound of their cheers distant compared to the way your pulse pounds in your ears. 

And Azriel knows it. He’s fully in control, commanding every single person in the room with nothing but his voice and the intensity in his eyes. When he glances over at Rhys and Cass again, they’re grinning like they know exactly what he’s doing—and exactly what it’s doing to everyone in the room. 

You’re breathless by the time he finishes the verse, and when he pulls back from the mic with that faint, wicked smirk, the crowd surges again, screaming louder than ever. 

You scream too, the sound ripping out of you without restraint, caught up in the heat and the pounding bass still thrumming through the room. But then Azriel’s gaze sweeps across the crowd, scanning the sea of faces, and it lands on you. 

Your breath catches. 

It’s brief, a flicker of his hazel eyes locking onto yours, but it’s enough. Enough to leave you wondering if he’s seen you before—if he’s noticed you at every show you’ve managed to get into, always in your usual spot near the edge of the stage, close enough to feel the pulse of the speakers in your chest. 

And then he turns back to the mic, and your chest tightens all over again. 

It’s the way Azriel shifts his stance—shoulders squared, leaning slightly into the mic as his fingers curl around the neck of his bass—that holds you captive. His voice joins Rhys’s in the next verse, a low harmony that wraps around the melody like smoke, rich and addictive. 

When the lyrics take a turn—something dark and suggestive, dripping with innuendo—you swear he looks at you again. His lips curl just so around the words, and the way his hand moves on the fretboard has your pulse racing. 

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. Ridiculous, really, to think that someone like him would single you out of a crowd like this. But as the song builds to its peak, the heat of his gaze feels too intentional to ignore. And then they hit the chorus, when Azriel takes over the melody for one shining moment, he sings a line that makes your cheeks burn, makes your hands curl into fists at your sides. It’s not subtle. It’s meant to be filthy, meant to tease and taunt, and he sings it like it’s directed straight at you. 

The crowd loses it. You barely hear the screams over the pounding of your heart.

He’s still looking at you when the song ends, sweat dripping from his temple as he lets the bass hang low against his hips, his breathing heavy. Cassian slams his drumsticks against the snare one last time, punctuating the end of the set, while Rhysand tosses his guitar pick into the crowd with a lazy smirk. 

Azriel doesn’t move for a moment. He stays there, on the edge of the stage, as if waiting for something. 

And then he winks. 

It’s quick—blink-and-you’ll-miss-it—but you see it. You feel it. 

Your knees go weak, your grip tightening on the barricade to keep yourself steady. By the time you process what just happened, he’s already turning away, laughing at something Cassian said as they disappear backstage. 

The crowd surges again, desperate for an encore, but all you can hear is the pounding of your pulse. 

Your knees are still trembling as the crowd surges around you, voices raised in chants for an encore. You try to breathe, to ground yourself, but the memory of Azriel’s smirk and the weight of his gaze keeps playing on a loop in your mind. 

And then, just as the noise reaches a fever pitch, you see him again. 

Azriel lingers near the side of the stage, his bass slung over his shoulder now, his hand reaching out to clasp the shoulder of a man in a black security shirt. You watch, heart pounding, as they exchange a few quick words, the guard leaning closer to hear him over the din. 

It’s casual—normal, probably—but then Azriel points.

Directly at you. 

You freeze. Your pulse spikes. There’s no way, you think. No way this is happening. 

But it is. His arm extends toward the crowd, his finger cutting through the haze of heat and lights to land right where you’re standing, gripping the barricade for dear life. The security guard nods, glancing in your direction as Azriel leans closer, lips moving again. 

He says two words, slow enough for you to catch even at this distance.

“Blue top.”

Your breath hitches, your gaze darting down to the shirt you’re wearing. Blue. Not just blue—bright blue, standing out against the darker tones of the crowd like a beacon. 

You look back up, your heart slamming in your chest as Azriel straightens, throwing one last glance your way before disappearing offstage. 

For a moment, you just stand there, frozen, every nerve in your body buzzing. Did that really just happen? Your mind races, replaying the movement of his hand, the way his lips had formed those words. Blue top. 

Your gaze darts around, scanning the crowd. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you’re losing your mind because surely he didn’t mean you. But your stomach flips again as you realize—no one else around you is wearing blue. Not a single person. 

It was you. 

Your fingers tighten on the barricade. He had pointed at you. You’re sure of it. And then you see him. 

The security guard is cutting through the clusters of venue workers. Your breath catches when his eyes land on you, sharp and direct. He doesn’t say a word, just jerks his chin toward the end of the barricade, a silent instruction. 

[whatwillfully]

congrats on your poll wins lads

[musubiki]

it's been a while since i've drawn but heres some rough concept ideas for a new store-type npc to add to the roster 🎭

[demi-pixellated]

Fortune Hunter Taash

[sleepyvib-es]

Jason who everyone believed would be great and Percy who knew that everyone except his mom believed he wouldn't amount to anything unless he proved himself. Percy who chose to make the Great Prophecy be about him so Nico wouldn't have to carry that burden after losing his sister. Jason who chose to confront Caligula alone so Piper would live after the oracle told him he or Piper would die.

Percy who believed he would die at 16. Jason actually dying at 16.

Imagine if Percy and Jason actually had the chance to have a genuine conversation about how being sons of The Big 3 hurt them in different but similar ways bc of what was expected of them and bc of how they were treated by people. Percy and Jason knowing that they can't really show weakness or insecurity or ever say that they were scared bc everyone at their respective camps were counting on their leadership.

Percy and Jason who had their own distinct journeys to be the heroes they became and both journeys were valid and important but did Jason and Percy ever believe for a second that they were important not for their parentage and achievements but because of who they are and actively chose to be

[1ns1deyourm1nd]

[amphibianaday]

day 1421

[soni-dragon]

aftermath

[xy-is-i]

Just thinking about Dick freaking out over losing his title of best uncle to Jason.

Dick showing up to take Lian out and give Roy a break only to hear she's having a fun day with Jason

Dick walking into the room with the toy he knows Lian really wanted, only to find out Jason got it for her first.

Dick showing up to game night at Roy's only to find Jason already there.

Just Dick getting increasingly frustrated and his rival Jason having no clue well the the rest watch on in humor and exasperation. Roy finds the who thing hilarious.

Picturing it all coming to a head when Dick is babysitting Lian and she shows him a new photo they put up. Dick all dejectivly being like, "look, it's you and your favorite uncle."

The pure shock and joy he feels when Lian tells him he wrong and her favorite uncle is "you uncle Dickie, duh!"

The door opening and Lian shouting "Papa!" As dick turns to excitedly tell Roy what Lian said only to see it's Jason who's holding Lian.

Dick just bluescreening.

[lukazade]

These kids are NOT studying rn

[liltaireissocute]

[PERC'ILDAN]

A phrase said by Vax in ep 29 3:50:30 had absolutely shattered my mind and soul with how much care, understanding and concern for Percy are in those words

+ version without subtitles

[ribbononline]

Still trying to finish other things but in the meantime- updated design for my older May! She's an Ace Trainer

[bitchapalooza]

Mihawk knows how to injure a person deeply without it being guaranteed fatal. Zoro trained under him for 2 years. Zoro made a promise to Sanji.

Aka, if this promise does get fulfilled, it'll be a farce in the end. Zoro will probably injure Sanji enough to scar, not kill. Because Zoro would never seriously harm his crew like that. If Sanji loses his way, Zoro can't just talk him out of the situation because it literally wouldn't work, he would have to be forced to comply with the promise he made. He would risk losing the crew's trust—Luffy's trust—by doing this. But he would challenge Sanji's trust if he didn't. Sure Sanji wouldn't be himself to feel betrayed if Zoro doesn't do it, but Zoro knows that if he were himself, Sanji would feel that way. Zoro is a loyal guy, he doesn't break his promises. But he could find a loophole. He does get lost often, maybe he got lost on the way to keeping his word?

[siffrin-gimmick-blog-number-37]

daily 15: hey yeah i forgot to update the blog again. yeah no i don't really mind. anyway. woe, fatfrin be upon ye