#get him.

[synthleeius]

drunken antics

a bitch is BACCKK🙏 i remember writing the start of this fic before i had this blog omg

lee!venti

ler!aether

Aether hummed, his feet moving to the pace of the city. Friday nights in Mondstadt were especially busy, and even though it was half past 11, various lights and lanterns kept the village lit as people made their way around the place for personal needs and what not. His floating travel companion had tapped out this time, claiming she was too tired to go out on any favours.

The honorary knight walked down the paths near Flora's flower store set up, eventually reaching the lower levels of Mondstadt near the tavern. Glancing at the barrels in front, he quickly decided that going in for a few hello’s wouldn’t be too bad. With a quiet bell chime, the Angels Share noise set into his ears. With tables full and bard playing a lyre at the back. It set a nice ambiance, as he walked up to the ba-

“Traveller! Wha- *hic* Are you doing here?”

recognising the high pitched voice. He turned to meet the eyes of Mondstadt’s famous bard. Venti quickly spinned the chair around and stumbled off. Though, immediately falling into his dear friend wasn't quite what he was trying to do. But it didn't matter, he wrapped his arms around the knight tightly as Aether tried to pull him up to prevent him from falling.

“Ehe~! Aether..*hic* where.. Where have you beenn~? I haven- *hic* seen you in Mon- Monstadt for like.. ever. ehe..” he slightly rambled, huffing as the traveller finally stabilised his stance. “Venti.. who let you get this drunk?”

“I’m not drrun- drunk! jus- *hic* just happyyy~ ehehe.. Aether i'm all spinny.. you- can you pass my me-.. wait.. me my drink? yeah..” He giggled out, whining as aether threw their hand over his shoulder and led his arm around to their’s. “Come on, let's get you home okay?”

Venti gasped loudly, though not to be looked at twice with all the commotion in the tavern. “Whaaat? no!- nonono.. I still.. need to drink the rest..! Ae- tther.. pleasee? ill tell you a secret if you do!” he insisted, leaning over to the others ear and cupping his hands around his mouth as he spoke-

“I’m.. actually Barbatos. shhh.. you can't tell aannybody okay? its a secre- a secret.” He took his hands away and looked into his eyes waiting for a reaction. Aether couldn’t help but laugh a bit, faking a surprised expression. “Wow, really?” he gasped, his voice dripping in sarcasm. He reached into his back pocket and slipped a couple mora bills under the half filled glass. But knowing Venti, that wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover his tab. Poor master Diluc...

“ye- *hic* yeah! I'm like.. alot old. what's the word.. chemistry?” he mumbled, in deep thought. Which is probably why he didn't notice when Aether slowly led him out the tavern and got his own teapot out, because archons know where Venti spends his nights.

“Cen.. centuries! Yeah.. yeah that- that's the word. it means like.. centurie- oh! that was fast.. you're a fast walker..” he slurred his words, leaning his head on Aether’s shoulder.. “I’ll take you to bed, come on.” he insisted softly, leading him up the stairs and into his bedroom. Within seconds of noticing the bed, he tilted his head up all the way and reached out to it only for his arm to slump back down lazily.

Aether complied, sitting him up on the bed and reaching over to the side table to get a bottle of water. “..you- you're not gonna make me drink that. right?”

….

“..right?”

with a loud groan Venti flopped onto his back and turned away. “Nooo- sont- dont make *hic* -make me..”

“Come on, if you don’t drink this now you're gonna feel especially sick in the morning. Trust me, it's not fun..” he shuttered slightly, remembering the feeling of a particularly bad hangover.

“I don’t care! you- you're bad! you're a bad bad man Aether- you're the worst! i'm not- *hic!* touching your weird, clear, tasteless drink!!”

Aether sighed, setting the bottle back. “..You're drinking it, whether you like it or not. And if it means I have to take some drastic measures, so be it." He said, a serious facade on his face.

The drunkard bard seemingly taking it seriously had wide eyes and a small smile as he spoke;“Huh?! dr- *hic!* drastic! what are you gon- AH! Aethther! dohont- dohohnt yohou dahahare!”

In a swift motion, Aether hand gently moved his hands to scribble across Venti’s upper ribs, giggling softly along with him.

“Oh, I do dare. You know how to make it stop Venti~” The traveller smiled softly, his hands skilfully scratching in between the little bones all the way down to his waist. Venti dug his head into the mattress, kicking his feet out behind him as he squirmed. “ahahE!- noho! Ihi dohon’t wahahant to! goHo awahay!” His hands pressed into the mattress with all the strength he could muster up while like this (Which in all honesty wasnt alot, especially for an archon..) , his wide smile on display.

“Awh, Venti.. Has anyone ever told you that you have a very pretty smile?” He said softly, his fingers massaging into the other’s waist over the lazily tied corset. Venti let out a loud hiccup in between his giggling, shaking his head left to right. “eheno! stohhop teheasing meheee!”

Aether chuckled with a gentle tone in his voice, blunt nails dragging down to where his hips met his thighs, digging in between. “Oh, but I would never tease you, wouldn't even dream of it, Venti.”

Okay, now he was definitely teasing..

Venti’s legs continued kicking, his hands shot up at Aether’s shoulders with a tight grip. “What, you don't like it here? Right here?” The blonde spoke, scribbling his fingers along his lower hips.

“Aehetherrrr~! ihi am- I aham a archon!”

“Yeah, a very giggly one in your case.”

“Aham nohot!” He argued back even through the said giggles, denying any sort of claims. “A drunk one?” Aether counter-offered, his hands travelling down to squish at the sides of his thighs.

“Nohot druhunk! juhust hahappy! I alreheady said that, I thi- wahait wait!” He repeated his phrase from earlier before jolting, his knees trying to curl up to his chest. “What, hm? You're gonna drink some water now?” He asked, fingertips momentarily stilling but continuing to rest on the spot.

“Waihit- juhust wahait..” He insisted, letting out soft breathy giggles as he caught his breath. “Thahats- thats not fair.”

“Ihits not fair?” The traveller repeated, a slight laugh of his own leaving his lips. “And why is that?”

“Because- behecause I have my things on! And thats- its soho bad, so you can’t.” He explained drunkenly, a hand pulling at his own tights to give further example.

“Oh I can’t?” He pressed his finger pads into the small diamonds on the patterned tights, enlightening a giggly gasp from the other. “Are you sure I can’t?”

“..No.” Venti mumbled, a soft squeal escaping his throat when he felt the hands suddenly attach themselves onto his knees and squeeze.

“You're so stubborn, just give upp~ I need to get you to bed, yknow.” Aether shrugged, talking like he was completely oblivious to what he was doing.

Venti didn’t reply, maybe a few babbles about how ‘he wasn’t a baby’, which the blonde simply countered with the reminder that he had his head thrown back because he was just that childishly ticklish. He honestly had never seen him shut up so quickly.. he's definitely gonna use this for blackmail.

“Okahay okay!” He exclaimed dramatically inbetween his squeals, “Stohop, ihim gohonna die!”

“Dramatic, but okay.” He chuckled, rubbing the left over tingles away. “You're done with your little tantrum? You’ll drink it?”

“..I want apple juice.”

“I’ll take it.”

[kujakumai]

Going into GX 149 saying to myself "I hate Amon so much I hope Yubel kills him."

[sunhated-a]

EVEN IMMORTALITY ENDS.

How unfortunate it must be for those who cannot reach the light. —Old age, pain, and disease, they all end with death. It's sad to see the end of an immortal, For immortals are the most frightened of the idea of death.

The fear of hell follows close behind every step. Flames promising to excise every sin.

[skipppppy]

This has to be an AU already right? I’ve never seen it. I’m doing it. My city now

The angst potential alone haunts me. How long do you think he waited for Ford?? When did it start to sink in that nobody was coming to save him, that nobody would miss him? Would anybody even want him back? How long did it take for his anger, his heartbreak, his grief to turn into acceptance and a belief that this was divine retribution? How long did he work, how many jobs did he take, how much wealth did he accrue, how many brushes with death did he have until he believed he’d “earned” the right to go home and see his brother?? Many such questions. I need to go deeper

[unsung-idiot]

don't show him modern technology; it won't end well

bonus under the cut:

[kochei0]

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon

[mysterycitrus]

lbr he doesnt stand a chance against a real clownoisseur

[beaft]

my mum forbade me to say anything to my dad about the top surgery thing, and it's just hit me how funny it would be if i got it done and didn't tell him and just waited for him to notice. i mean, what's he gonna say? "didn't you used to have tits?"

[wrenchwenches]

[catwouthats]

THEY MAKE ME INSANE

Proof below:

Also, I’m fucking crying, I think his arm is like that bc he fell asleep holding the photo.

EDIT: more proof:

[yourfavecharacterisqueer]

hypothetical scenario for you all: the real king arthur returns. you meet him and you welcome him into your home. what is the first thing you do with him? keep in mind, this is a man from the 500s (he died in 542), and you are from the 21st century (2024).

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

[wasabi-gumdrop]

local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6

[chilpilled]

his smile and optimism…….gone………

[sidras-tak]

Accessibility takes too goddamn fucking long.

My brother was paralyzed in October 2023. We got him home from the hospital (in Texas, when we live in Iowa) in a clunky old hospital chair. He hated it. He was scared and angry and in pain and his life had just changed forever and he couldn’t do anything for himself in that wheelchair. His first goal (aside from learning how to transfer) was to get a wheelchair. My family was lucky enough to afford one so we thought it would be easy enough. Nope.

We couldn’t buy him a wheelchair. He needed a prescription. For a wheelchair. A doctor had to examine him and declare him in need of a wheelchair. It wasn’t good enough that he had scans and tests showing tumors cutting off his spinal cord. He needed his primary care doctor to examine him during a physical and write a prescription. He was making 2-4 transfers a day, tops. He had no energy to get to a doctor. Home health was in and out every day. He had no time to get to a doctor. He didn’t get a prescription for almost a month. Then it had to go through insurance.

We asked if we could skip insurance and just buy a wheelchair for him. Nope. They wouldn’t sell us one, not even at full sticker price. It needed to be approved by Medicare. We ordered a wheelchair, a nice one, a good shade of green, sporty, small. It would let him move around the house. He would be able to cook, to reach drawers and get stuff from the fridge and brush his teeth and put his contacts in at a sink. We were told it would take awhile, maybe two months. Silently we all hoped he would be around to see two more months.

He went on hospice care on a Saturday in March. On Monday, I was calling his friends to come see him before he died. I got a call on his phone. It was the wheelchair company. They were about to order his wheelchair, she said, but there was an issue with insurance— had he stopped being covered by Medicare? Well, yes. When he started hospice care, he got kicked off Medicare. The very nice woman I talked to told me to call her if he resumed Medicare coverage so she could order his wheelchair. He died less than 12 hours later.

We ordered that chair for him in early December. Medicare didn’t approve the order until March. He was dead before they got around to it. He wanted that fucking wheelchair so badly. The only reason he had any semblance of independence and any quality of life for the last five months of his life was because the wheelchair company lent him an old beater chair, a very used model of the chair he ordered. If I could go back and change one thing about his end-of-life, I would get him his dream wheelchair. He told me again and again he couldn’t wait to get it, so that he could feel like a person again. He made the best of what he had with that old beater chair, but it still makes me mad to this day. He was paralyzed. He needed a chair that afforded him dignity. We had the money for it. And yet, we were left waiting for five months, for a chair that wouldn’t even get ordered until the day he died.