#but that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth

[wolfofcelestia]

One of my last reblogs got me thinking about this so here is

How all four Zaynes + Sylus would treat you for low iron

Warnings: mentions of hunting, blood, suspicious food and drink. Everything aside from Doctor Zayne's section is not rooted in reality so don't take this as medical advice. If you feel tired all the time, go ask your doctor about it and get a blood test. Trust me, you're not supposed to be tired all the time.

Doctor Zayne

By the book treatments. You'll get iron pills and recommendations for iron-rich foods. If your stomach can't handle the pills, he might recommend iron infusions, all supervised by medical personnel. On his free nights, he'd take you out to dinner or cook for you to make sure you eat iron-rich foods, even if it's only in his presence

Dawnbreaker

He'd repeatedly remind you to rely on him. Just stay in bed, he'll take care of the rest

In his world, everything you need to live is packaged in nutrient drinks or in pills, so he'd gather all these less than tasty nutrient drinks and pills but he'd also go to the outskirts of town, where the wild animals have taken over a part of a forest. They don't entirely live in harmony with the wanderers there. Some say they're no longer animals, but meat is meat, and only fresh meat will do for his beloved, especially when she's sick

He'd come home with freshly butchered meat, and the blood from the meat in large bottles, hoping she'd be able to get some benefit from drinking such a valuable and rare fluid

Foreseer

He wouldn't treat you. You don't belong in the tower. You'll only get sicker here.

"Go back to your people. Only they can help you. I have no means or the experience to cure you here."

But you won't leave. Stubborn, even in the face of an illness that makes you weaker and weaker by the day. But you've experienced this before. It's nothing new

Soon, you and Jas annoy him enough to convince him wild game is actually high in iron and, with his powers, he'd easily be able to hunt one near the tower

It would be his first meal with someone. A warm, hearty meal with the girl he's seen his other selves eat with so many times before

Master of Fate

"Close your eyes and hold my hands. Imagine my energy flowing out of my body, crossing over our hands like a bridge, and being absorbed into your body. Take as much as you need."

The Master of Fate is also a master of ancient energy magic, so something like mana or energy transfer would be easy for him if you're ill or need a boost

This won't fix the cause of your low energy of course, but this would be a start to get you on your feet

Once you have enough energy to travel down the mountain, he'd bring you to a healer, someone who works with and sells all sorts of dried herbs and Chinese medicines

Protest all you want but these bitter, smelly concoctions are going into your mouth one way or another. He'd laugh at your reaction and call you a child for making a fuss about taking your medicine, and he'd promise you a sugary treat if you take it like a good girl

Sylus

"Are you ignoring Zayne's advice again? You're really putting him through his paces, huh? I'd have my own personal doctor take a look at you but I have a feeling you'd listen to him even less. Well, if it's iron you need, then tonight we'll have steak. And we'll have steak for as many nights as you like after that. I'll have the chef work on a meal plan with you."

With your steak dinners, he'd offer you a particular red wine. It tastes a little sharper, a little richer... The way he watches so carefully when you take a drink, and the way he smiles at you when you swallow... You'd be suspicious about it, if it weren't for the fact that you did in fact feel much better after each meal

[hughiecampbelle]

Unornamented (Hughie Campbell Oneshot)

Character/s: Hughie

Word Count: 1,691

Requested: Not requested, but here are the prompts I used :) 13.) Hum, 36.) Scraped Knees 34.) “Still awake?”

Inspired By: Foxglove by Haley Heynderickx

A/N: I love him, I love him, I love him!!!! Anyways, just an appreciation fic for your patience!!! Thank you my loves!! I actually kinda love how this turned out. I think it's very soft and sweet, even a little sad. Heavily inspired by the song/album. Slowly working through my writers block so that once I start posting again, my work will be what you deserve!!! Feedback is always appreciated!! 💜💜💜

The cicada's sharp pitch moves with the wind, seeping through the open window screens. You never knew what that peculiar sound was, the screaming, bleating, wailing, only that it swept through you each night on your long, humid walks home. A kind of begging. A performance. A tongue you have not yet mastered. Shakespearean tragedies, you imagine, wars between families, between forbidden lovers and bitter marriages. Feuds. They step out into costumes covered in ruffles, pearls, thick collars and high stockings. The children dress as fauna and flora, roaring like cubs, nipping at one another playfully. On stage, they are someone else. Largely unseen as the sun sets, they intend to make their presence known. The rest of them, the crowds for miles and miles, sing their songs in appreciation. A hum that vibrates through the leaves, the open air, their roaring praise and applause settles goosebumps across your flesh. They’ve grown accustomed to sweet summer shows and they will be forever grateful. Harmless, they went about their time as you wished to do. No biting, nor stinging. Without violence. They draw out these shows, afraid they will be left alone to bear their lives, their thoughts, mundane and overpowering respectively. 

Beneath you, the springs of the mattress puncture the thin fabric, poking at the spokes of your spine the way a mother would her child. It tickles, her bony knuckles, the sharpness of the spring. Interchangeable. A comfort you have forgotten of, one that fills the cavity of your chest with dread. What else have you forgotten? What else have you given up for a life like this? The sheer curtains blow with the breeze. Thoughtlessly, they move and dance and grab at one another, like sisters. They must be laughing, you think, for they are warm underneath the butter yellow street lights and safe and together. They must be laughing, because they are together and that is who they’ll only ever need: their twin. Leaves rustle underneath the insect melodies. A bass, low and of the earth, the tone of an old man telling stories of his youth. You can hear him smiling. 

The sheets are soft, newly washed, and sticking to you. Wrapped around your torso, your legs free to breathe, kissed by the thick air. Lying like this, with your knees tented, you can see the scrapes across them. Earth scorched. What was once torn open, alive and mouthy, had healed only slightly. The skin is pale and thick and chewy. Shiny. They don’t hurt as much as they did. You’re not sure how it happened, only that it must’ve been recent. There are other aches and pains. Healed and unhealed, bruised and not. Old wounds stitched together. Deep purples, cobalt blues, sickly greens. They’ll yellow soon enough. You were always getting hurt. You were always in some sort of danger. Unwise, you knew, and yet there was something about the thrill. The taste of blood in your mouth. Last time – the last time – you’d almost been sliced in half. Not yet a scar, the settled skin inching its way across your belly remained snakelike. Sensitive, you were careful to wash and dry, to dress and dress again. Your fingertips brush where it rests beneath your shirt. You don’t like looking at it. It remains too much of a reminder. On that day. Of what you were attempting to leave behind. Too soon to joke, to laugh, the both of you still a little rattled. 

It’s how you ended up here. 

There is a body beside you. Not unfamiliar. His skin is warm, and though forgiveness was never one of summer's virtues, you find yourself curling into him, all his nooks and crannies, despite the humidity in the air. His chest rises and falls evenly. His lip is split and there is a scab at his temple. How many times have you kissed that very spot? How many times had you checked on it, to make sure it was healing properly. Free of infection. His shirt is worn and thin and it smells of him: soap and sky and the dinner he burned earlier. One arm rests beneath you, your head, the other thrown behind the pillow, perching it up further. His rest is not easy, not without effort, but there is a certain softness to his features. Maybe it’s the light, the setting sun, the deep, bright blue of the night sky. Maybe not. Either way your eyes follow the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheek, the furrow of his brow. His hair is wild, some of it slicked back. It is his best effort not to overheat. His dreams are still water, not yet broken by growing, gruesome waves. Not yet entering the heart of the storm. It will, of course. And when it does, he will startle awake. Panting. Gasping for air. Clinging to you. 

For now, though, he is quiet. 

The bedroom is cozy. Cozy, you think, is a nice way of saying it’s small. No matter. You had little with you anyways. A lamp. A mattress. You have yet to get a frame, a bedside table. Frivolities. A single dresser you split down the middle, neck to groin. Autopsy-esque. Photos of friends. Notes and doodles. Passports, fake IDs. Enough clothes to get you through the season. You know, when the snow threatens to fall and the cicadas are long gone, you will need more than what you’ve got. The drawers stick and, embarrassed, as quiet as he can, he’ll shake it open. He has done this since you got here. Untethered himself from you, from the bed, gentle enough not to startle you. He’ll dress, and kiss your head, and leave a note: Be back soon. XO Hughie. He’ll disappear in the early morning. Wandering, you suppose. It is the only way he can breathe easily, if he knows where you are. If he understands the layout of the land. You weren’t in the city anymore. The crowds you’d slipped into, becoming just another strange face, were no longer an option here. The hiding places were minimal. Open roads, nothing for miles. The underbelly you could run to for safety, the trains you could crouch into, your hoods up, your faces low, were unavailable. Nonexistent. You’d traded one anonymity for another. You’d pretend to be asleep, watching him, wide eyed, as the morning sun enveloped him. The rays are subtle, not yet full, and they stretch out towards him. Sometimes you’ll fall back to sleep. Sometimes you’ll lie there, soaking in every inch of the room, wondering what became of everyone you’d ever cared about. Wondering if you could make a life like this. When he comes back, he will make you coffee. The only two mugs you brought with you. Chipped and worn. He’ll place his on the dresser, careful with yours, as if it were something precious. He doesn’t voice what he’s seen, what he’s taken into account, but his features are quick to give him away. You will reassure him: he could never find you here. You are both safe. Everyone is safe. The words are hollow, You know this. As long as Homelander is alive, you are in danger. There is only so much of you you can give to him anymore. There is only so much of your mind, your body, your fears, that you can dole out to him. Hughie nods, the steam from his cup bringing color to his face. You will find something else to talk about. The strangers you met on your long walks. The pets you wave to through fences, through windows. The long summer you’ve been granted. How lucky you’ll be when the weather chills and the leaves begin to turn. Anything but Vought. Anything but him. 

That isn’t for many hours, of course.

Your thoughts spread like fog through the apartment. The kitchen (tiny) and the bathroom (even littler). Enough utensils for two. A spongy bath mat. Anything that would fit in the backseat, really. Silly things you grabbed without thinking. The kitschy salt and pepper shakers. A dozen mismatched socks. Only the case of Hughie’s mouth guard. Half a set of slippers. A handful of books. The rest? You would never be sure what happened to them, to anything. You had what the old tenants left behind. The dresser, the lamp, a table for four with three chairs, a shower curtain. There are other things here as well. Spiders in the corners, weaving their webs. Occasionally, you might find one on the bar of soap by the sink, crawling across the counter tops, making its way through the length of the apartment. A mouse or two. If you’re quiet enough, you might hear them scurrying in the walls. Worse, you suspect, though that’s as far as you can name definitively. The first thing he did was get you a mattress. Paid in cash under another name, beaming with pride, he pushed it up the stairs and through each doorway. It was perfect.  The cicadas sing their songs, harmonizing with one another. The sky has darkened. There are so many stars here. That was the first thing you noticed. Driving for days on end, you watched the inky black glitter, thousands and thousands of holes opening up, letting the twinkling light through. It wasn’t like this in the city. It had never been this clear. Perhaps it was the running, the escaping, the tiresome ways you’d been living since you left. Perhaps it was the first beautiful thing you’d been allowed to take in in a long time. There were wildflowers and small towns and houses built long before you, but the time to look in awe, to appreciate, had been so fleeting. Mere moments, that’s all you were allowed. This would go on forever. The scars embedded in your skin ache just a little. You readjust, placing your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Hughie, coming to, wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer. “Still awake?” He asks in his sleepy voice, and you know he is smiling.

[turtleblogatlast]

Sometimes I think about how the turtles are just kids, y’know? Just kids and yet it’s up to them to save people, save New York, save the world.

It’s honestly really sad. They were created to be soldiers and while they chose to protect rather than destroy, they remain soldiers all the same.

[spywhitney]

How I sleep knowing I'll never trust anyone that hates Sydney but worships Richie:

[madeinwater7]

as a multishipper it’s so weird to me seeing takes like “zolu (or sanuso) have so much in canon but zosan not really so ofc zsn shippers just see them as hot or smth but there’s nothing more” and others like it. first of all… thats a weird hill to die on. since when does canon basis makes one ship superior to the other. second of all: some people just don’t enjoy having everything already established and served on a silver plate. i love zolu with all my heart, they are wonderful and perfect in a lot of ways and interpretations. but what also clicks for me in a special way (and why i can’t let zosan go since i was 16, even tho they’re very much not a priority anymore) is thinking what would it take characters that incompatible fall in love. how would it happen. how would they behave and deal with it and be stupid but also vulnerable in a lot of ways. how would this develop and change them and their worldview. its fascinating! its cool when things are pretty much established in canon and two characters are written like each other’s half but. it’s so much fun to make it difficult and make it a journey. the conclusion is always so satisfying.

so no, zosan is not just “they hate fuck and its cool”

its being incompatible and messy and weird and angry but also trusting each other and respecting each other in so many ways. it’s “you know the worst of me but you still here and i trust you with my life” and also rethinking their view on love and

it’s not for everyone, sure, but it’s not so hard to accept other people’s taste and way of thinking instead of demeaning it or making it a weirdest competition. it’s not. (especially when it’s about literally two of the most popular ships on fandom lmao)

[pinkyjulien]

━ The RVC00N Dumpster🦝

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For both Masc and Fem V 2 Garments; Top tank and Long sleeves fishnet top Multiple colors each 🔀 Garment Support Enabled 🍈 Dynamic Refits for Angel and Gymfiend 💪 Replacer Refits for VTK Big, VTK Small and Equip. Flat Chest

🧡 Thanks to all the chooms who tested and took pics! Afterdark - Altar - Beanie - DesertPirate77 - GenocidalFetus - GlitchGarden - Halkuonn - Kharonion - Lokiina - Lucky38 - MotherHerbivore - Nika - Quen - RainbowCadenza - Sh00kspeared - Vade - Wilxfyre - Winks

▶ On Nexus

[murphyslawyer]

Man, I don’t hate Loreen and I think Sweden deserved many points but fuck this.

[wroteclassicaly]

This world really does treat us fat people like we’re an annoyance, a freak show, side characters in every movie, never considered sexy or desired (because there’s no way that Hollywood would ever consider this). Clothes in the store, always the best-friend, constantly making jokes before anyone else will. Doesn’t matter how we try, what we do - we will always be treated this way by a majority of society unless we are this idealized version of thin. Every so often I’m reminded of this, and it stinks.

[bibibbon]

My main problem with class 1a and izuku relationship by the end is that it's far too realistic for a superhero story.

Like yes in real life after college or high-school you lose touch with ppl you used to see everyday and it's not bc your a bad friend it's just kinda how the world works. You start a career and a family and get busy and only check up on highshool buddies every now and then but a fictional superpower story shouldn't end like that at all. I mean mha is one of the most "power of friendship" themed stories I've ever scene it's not gonna hurt anybody to make so that they miraculously kept in touch and met up constantly over the years (this is if we pretend that this was the only problem with ending 😅)

When someone asks for a realistic story it doesn't mean I need every character to got the bathroom every couples of hours and trip over themselves unless it's there for a reason. Realistic stories means set up and pay off like for example if your gonna kill a character it'd be realistic to have ppl react to it (cough twices death shouldve impacted more than just Toga cough). What I'm trying to say is that the ending is awful and mha is the defention of wasted potential.

(this rant went a very weird direction and I'm not sure if it makes sense)

Hi @jettanasser 👋

The term realistic can be used as a good and bad thing like you said for a story that has the core theme of WE are the greatest hero and the power of love and friendship that was supposed to carry the last act from the ending of the vigilante arc to the big final fight ending the story with them not meeting eachother as often leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Yes this is realistic but 1A never actually develops a proper found family bond which is why I find the last act so underwhelming because there is no substance to 1A and their bond. Also the way the final chapter ended begs a lot of questions why didn't we ever see 1A members hang out outside of school uniform or hero costume? If there are less villains then why is there more work? Like yes I understand that a lot of heroics isn't just taking down villains but also reforming society but even with that MHA did go to make a point that this is now a society where heroes have free time did it not?

[racewinner]

ok, tom's last insta story is the last straw that confirms i haven't been misinterpreting all the things that were red flags to me before. he didn't say a thing after the european elections when the far right won in france, and now that the left has very surprisingly won the legislatives when the far right was supposed to be sweeping it, the ONLY thing he comments on is a very sarcastic congratulations to the country for having elected a far left deputy? this pretty much confirms what i have been suspecting for a while now, that that man is at best a right winger, if not a down right far right one

[mysicklove]

people who joke about beating children/murdering them and then justify it by saying its bc they hate them are so gross to me

[yugiohz]

and to this day, endeavor has no idea about hawks’ weird attachment to him and I find it rlly interesting how that was never used as a conflicting point for hawks i.e., a much needed opportunity for reflection, growth, and a bit of freedom

[lover-of-mine]

Okay I made this post, drafted this post, deleted this post, made it again, deleted it again, but I need to say it, you guys do know you don't need to add "I love bt but" "Tommy can be Buck's endgame but" "I'm not leaving the bt but" "don't worry I still love bt but" to the buddie edits you decide to reblog, right? If it's not about the triangle, why are we bringing bt into the mix for no reason other than to justify still enjoying the non canon ship? Shipping a non canon ship is half the fandom experience and maybe I'm being touchy but I legit wanna block some people because it kills my vibe to open my notifications to a bunch of "I love bt" in my buddie stuff. Why are we still justifying shipping either? I know for the most part people don't have bad intentions but waxing poetics about a ship that's not displayed in a set to justify reblogging it is weird. You can ship both. It's okay. But you guys are killing my vibe here.

[acebytaemin]

the fact that skz turned down a chase atlantic collab. i hate to say it but this is my roman empire

[angrycanadiannerd]

Can I just say

I’m so tired of fandoms moralizing liking or not liking characters.

I’m tired of fandoms of moralizing liking or not liking a piece of media.

I’m just tired.

[iridescentmidnights]

does Jen ever date Julie in your au cause I’ve seen people headcanon Ben as bi assuming that if that is your headcanon would it stay the same for jen

Jen is 100% into all genders, and I plan on expanding on her relationships with Julie, Elena, Looma, and Ester. Some more romantic than others. I'll keep it a surprise how many girls Jen develops a crush on and how many she actually dates.

Please enjoy Elena's sweet face, I don't have many sketches of her but I like to add something to my asks when I can 💖