#have some angst as my thanks :)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS x ISAT part 1: In Stars and Necromancy.

(Part 2)

[fumifooms]

Hien & Benichidori compilation

Okay so I put a & but this absolutely a shippy post, the hienichidori community is quiet af and there is no discourse but their comics in their Adventurer’s Bible profiles…!!! Many may ask, does Benichidori canonically have a crush on Hien?! Straightforward answer: It’s left heavily implied but yes. Alternate answer: If the framing of Falin in an explosion as Toshiro says that he loves her isn’t meant to associate the explosion with falling in love when it is mirrored in the next page, then… I think it’s a mix of both, I don’t think just this is true because Hien wouldn’t know who Shuro is talking about or even what Falin looks like, but it could be that the explosion is instead meant to show a world vision being shaken, the thing blowing you away. So for Hien, having Shuro say that breaks this unsaid assumption she’s always had that they might end up together, and thus Falin is taken like an explosion to the face. Similarly, for someone with facial dysmorphia and for who appearances and being subservient are everything, having Hien be confident and totally assume her plain looks, even uplifting herself, that also shakes her world like a bomb. And yes it’s not just about the makeup!! Benichidori’s drawn to her confidence, to her unapologetic attitude, to her attitude. Benichidori unexpectedly snapped at Hien too, but she was totally unshaken and she replied casually and lightheartedly even then; Benichidori saying she can be herself with Hien is about Hien not caring about her mask, both her makeup and her subdued demeanor. Hien is canonically special to Benichidori.

And on the note of that comic, I took a picture from my Adventurer’s Bible for this but I think the fantranslations I’ve seen are lovely too, really gets across all the meaning of the original sentence… Where Benichidori said "She was the only one I could be my unadorned self in front of" (which is my fave) or "I’m able to act my honest self with her". Benichidori having body(more specifically facial) dysmorphia is explicitly stated in the Adventurer’s Bible btw.

Pleasee how Hien’s extra is her talking about her life story and Toshiro to Benichidori… How Hien says "That guy is blind!" and Benichidori says "I’ve noticed that 😊" as if saying that Toshiro is blind to what a catch Hien is… Also in the ninja girls’ shared inn room Benichidori puts her futon next to Hien’s bed.

[bluebutlikenotalways]

And so we return, as all things do, to Centaurworld.

[X] Should I draw Nowhere King Black Pearl? Vote now!

ALSO! White Pearl’s design is once again cosmicwhoreo’s

Actually I’m not leaving this in the tags. I loved doing those funky backgrounds, but it also means a diversity loss because he fucking speared her on bisexual beach DX

[unrealwasteland]

[anlian-aishang]

Levi with an (Episodically) Depressed S/O

Tags: levi x reader, angst, hurt-comfort, gn!reader Word count: 900

Levi invites you to shower with him, making the obstacle less daunting and much more attractive. In his black robe, leaning on your bedroom door, two towels slung over his arm indicate the knowledge that you will say yes and accompany him. The way that he looks, the low plea in his voice, how could you say no? 

It would be more accurate to say that he was bathing you, but he does not phrase it that way. Instead, he is humble, letting his actions speak louder than words. He does not tell you that he will shampoo your matted hair, does not flaunt how deliberately he exfoliates your limbs, he just does them for you. Some days, even just tipping the bottle or pumping some soap into your hand can seem mountainous. On those days, he sees those activities not as tasks, but as privileges. It is his honor to be the one looking after you in your most dire time. He would always prefer someone to take care of rather than someone to miss. 

Showering together not only ensures that you stay clean, but his company prevents you from those timeless sessions sat on the tile floor. At the moment you look refreshed but before you become sleepy, he jerks the handle to the left and halts the devastatingly relaxing rain. 

Always, your clean clothes are already folded atop the bathroom counter, waiting for you. Some times, you fail to remember that you did not put them there. Other times, you notice the sign of his relentless consideration, but are artificially silenced from expressing your gratitude. No matter in his mind. You are clean, clothed, and out of bed, and that’s already better than you were before. 

Without one complaint, Levi scoops your dampened towel and old clothes from the wet bathroom floor and drops them in the hamper for you. He has seen the piles that can amass, and if it were anyone else in any other circumstance, the clean freak would be quick to chastise, but any sight or thought of you disintegrates any instinct to discipline. You are sat in the living room, admiring the ivy that swirls around the balcony’s posts, thumbing the petals of the bouquet vased on the coffee table. White-gold rays move just a tad west to cast your figure in therapeutic light. You’re too tired to move away from the sun, and for once, Levi finds your fatigue favorable. As the morning temperature rises, he can see that your resting smile does as well. 

While you are entranced with the scenes of summer, Levi swiftly searches for and alleviates the areas you have left neglected. He dumps your sock drawer upside down and mends the pairs that you have discarded as singles. In your closet, he finds the clean pile and dirty pile and either folds it or washes it accordingly. Under your bed, on your nightstand, in your bedside drawer, he discovers the dirty dishes that have been missing the sink and returns them to their proper place. 

Between those tasks, he rolls his shoulders back or rubs the side of his neck and allows himself to sigh. It is difficult - not to bandage these tiny wounds - but to see the harsh bruises left by the illness. Sure, you were forgetful, and not quite as tidy as he was, but still - the mounds of laundry, hidden dirty dishes - this wasn’t like you. Levi lives for your joy - not the superficial smile, your peace - not the misleading silence. He lives for you - in sickness and in health. The times you forget your worth, that is when he whispers it in your ear. When the world is overwhelming you, he lets his touch communicate it. 

Once your space is in order, he can start to work on getting you to leave it. Rather than annoying reminders or obligations, he mindfully manipulates the steps of treatment into desirable invitations. Rather than Do you want to… or Would you like to…, his proposals are statements, taking the responsibility out of your hands. Concerts in the park this afternoon. Let’s go to the farmers market. Apple orchard just opened.

Or even less far away. 

Plants look thirsty, water them with me? Rain just cleared, read on the porch with me? Full moon tonight, stargaze with me?

To you, with me frames the activities, frames your presence as favors for him, and even in your lowest state, you are always keen to help him with anything. To Levi, it is no framing, your relationship is the greatest gift that fate has bestowed on him, and he treats you as such. It is in his selfless actions and his careful words, but it is more than that, traits you can’t quite categorize. The near flat, subtle smile you wake up to in the morning. The tight yet painless combs through your hair that leave you feeling divine. The low, calming timbre of his voice, decorated with a tender tone that he reserves for you. 

Even before the haze you’re in now, you’ve never been able to label those qualities of his, and instead settled: it’s just who he is. 

Like the sentiment that motivates his care: it’s what you deserve. 

// masterlist //

[unit-ssn0va]

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[libr-0-cubicularist]

I do not know what is fucking happening. I just doodled something based off the scraps of context we’ve been given. anyways. @gia-d and @not-freyja I’m very excited to see you hurt the boys :D

[puppyeared]

The garment, worn by those in good standing with Hyrule royalty, has been reworked with the latest improvements, such as a new shoulder guard.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Calvin Rose finds a catatonic teenager roaming the streets and… well, the poor kid looks dead on his feet, and it’s raining cats and dogs, he can’t just leave him there.

And, it’s fine. He’s just passing through (can’t risk more with the Court still at large) and will be back on the road come morning. And he’ll sleep easier knowing he kept the kid from certain death.

So, really, how the hell did he end up with the very same kid riding shotgun and nagging him to turn up the radio to Phoebe Bridgers?

[h-didanart]

Have any of you guys ever been doodling when suddenly you’re hit by the angstiest idea ever and so you start workshopping that idea into an au as an alternate timeline to see if it would fit with the au only to create an absolutely heartbreaking and depression inducing scenario, only for your brain to decide that’s not enough and end up creating that same scenario in your two other main aus so that you end up with three deeply traumatized versions of the same character?

Anyone?

No?

That’s fair

I call them the heartbroken trio.

We have a post-Everything Goes To Shit arc Scythe, around January ‘24 Bloody, and a post-Second Takeover Harvest. You may notice I called them by their actual names and not by their usual [insert trait here]!BM names, and that’s on purpose.

See, due to various circumstances in each of their respective timelines, their twins died.

They’ve all taken it very harshly, but express it in different ways, Scythe is more reserved yet more ruthless in her anger, Bloody has become extremely disconnected from everything, and Harvest is an anxious wreck. All their reactions are directly correlated to their twins’ death and how they perceived it.

Anyways, yeah.

New au//timeline thing. Yay?

Oh, and for your troubles

The guy who in his canon lost his twin being extremely conflicted about the newcomers. Cuz in one hand they are versions of versions of himself that he knows that he can relate even more to! But on the other hand they are versions of versions of himself that he knows that he can relate even more to.

Yeah :P

Might elaborate on these guys later

[shinakazami1]

"Love is stored in (un)familiarity": Rhack snippet based on my TFTBL AU

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58404214

less than 2k words This is a snippet of a bigger AU, at the happiest moment of it :^) but before we get there, it will take quite a bit so, I thought I would post this already!

Rhys' bad tastes and Jack being a sweetheart,,,

===

"Heyyyyyy-- pumpkin?" "Yeah, Jack?" Rhys looked over the kitchen counter, trying to remove a stain from the unwanted Skag guest. "What's the question for the day?" "Oh, well I wanted to ask you what you want for dinner but, if you're so insistent - what's your favorite ice cream flavour?" 

Rhys stared down at the man. The last few 'daily questions' were a bit more stimulating. How he got the prosthetic, what it was like to be an Atlas CEO, had he kept the Jack AI, some heavy stuff in general. This felt like a trap, but one that was most welcome. 

"I don't like ice cream. I like frogurts way more." 

Jack stared back at him, waiting for him to continue. The man's face, frozen solid, was enough for Rhys to know something was up. This state was only a few seconds long but that was still more than wanted. The sudden drift to a salesman's smile was also not a sign of everything being okay.

"OK, if you have such a blast destroying your taste buds, tell me at least what knife you're using. I need to know if I should ever let you cook or not. I feel if you'd try to poison me, you'd actually make me healthier, knowing your-" "Chocolate dill pickle." 

Jack seemed frozen solid for longer than before. But something was... different. This exact scenario happened a few times before already but, every time, it left Rhys a bit on the edge. He could imagine the big hands wrapping around his trachea and snapping it if they wanted to. It felt like a matter of time, even if the man before him hadn't made such a gesture before. The eyes were the key difference. They weren't, like a moment ago, staring through a fog at the world surrounding them. The small shines and the relaxed brows didn't keep Rhys off his guards, but they did make him wait for something.

He didn't expect laughter. Not just any laughter - a whole fit. A maniac, full, from the chest, belly moving, spine bending laugh. Hands flying, from thighs to the forehead, to waving in the air, as the big, loud, manic laughter, continued. It caused Rhys to relax - Jack probably was imagining the taste and while he loved it, Jack probably hated even the mental image of it. Something, about watching this man laugh to such an extent, made the warmth spread in Rhys' chest. It was not perfect but, it was nice. It felt like they were used to this. And - to make that happen, Rhys decided to be more confident and say something more. 

"You can't judge a good frogurt just by some mediocre tastes! Why do you need a vanilla when you have Last Night Midnight? It was a limited edition taste that had ingredients making -" "You're not him!" 

Barely, through a dying laughter, Jack, with the help of a chair he was holding on, got those words out of his mouth. Scared, a bit disappointed, Rhys could only stare at the man as he still fought through the teary cackles. Jack, with his hard-working diaphragm, barely got any words out. 

"It's cus-oh, oh kiddo, oh my god - it's not him! My Rhysie - man! Ah, oh my - - loves some citrus-- Cheesy Lemon Zest--lord! Kiddo, oh God your taste is so shit - - Chocolate Flush the most!" 

Rhys let Jack slowly get out of the torturous laughing tone. The warmth was no longer making him flutter. It felt embarrassing, it felt sad and burning through everything he's done wrong till then. If not for him... 

"You're not him." Jack panted, sweat slowly dropping off his forehead. 

It was true. He was not him . 

And it made Rhys feel stupid for being so happy hearing that.

===

For the rest of the evening, Jack spent the time in the kitchen. The new policy of not sleeping together made Jack quite insomniac but, Rhys felt he shouldn't comment on that at all. It felt like a very important thing for him to do by himself. Still, Rhys couldn't stop being worried for the man. Especially after Rhys wasn't let in the kitchen. 

The first sign was Jack telling him to get busy and just do things around the house. Then, it was him not being allowed to even brew some coffee. After enough pestering, Jack made him some and closed the door, telling Rhys he couldn't come to the kitchen for some time. Thinking it was a bad prank, hungry for a snack, Rhys attempted to get to the kitchen with no fruition, especially since he didn't get the fruit he wanted. Being told 'later, kiddo' and given a banana made him feel like he was back at school but he tried his best to not show how it annoyed him. Jack's comments about poutiness not being the stronger weapon said he sucked at it. 

The worst, however, was the moment Jack smashed the door in his face when he was trying to sneak in and take a slice of the pizza they had for dinner. Annoyed, hungry and tired, through the door, he told Jack if he wanted to cook some pot, the kitchen was the WORST place for that type of cooking. Instead of any of the typical Jack-making remarks Rhys expected to hear, the man opened the door, checked his nose he even forgot he was holding, and gave him a heated-in microwave two pizza slices and soda with three ice cubes. 

Apologies coming from that man's mouth felt still like a fever dream - too face-warming. Too weird. But it was important to hear and receive.

"I'm just making something atrocious in the kitchen. Smells horrible - so I'm doing you a favour, Rhysie. Don't stay up too late, we have a few things to do tomorrow." 

Nodding in agreement, Rhys stood up and went to eat what he was given and slowly, very slowly, in fact, prepared for bedtime. Scanning through all his Echo Eye files for some clues hadn't been fruitful for the past few days but there were enough folders to check for eternity. He had that, in a way - just not at the place he maybe would want. Not realising when he stopped seeing the Echo Eye layout, with a droll falling from his left cheek, Rhys slowly opened his eyes, seeing a figure above him. The hand on his shoulder didn't leave many suspects on who it might be but, the cold point on his cheek wasn't as easy to guess. "Open up, buttercup." "Oaaaghaa?", Rhys said very charismatically, obviously. "Come on, it will melt. Just say aaaaa or eeee, both are good. Or even waaaah, just don't do it too loud. We're no longer in kindergarten." "Mmwha waw you tal'in aboth...", Rhys straightened his back and said in the most professional tone. "I'm talking about the ice crea- yogurt, I mean, oh you get what I mean. Taste it." "I ion wanna. I washed my teeth, just.... now...." "Princess, it's 4 am. You're dressed in your clothes, you have one shoe still on and it's only between you and one Skag probably where the other is gone. I want to fall asleep soon but I won't be able to finish this if I don't know, you know like, if I did a good job." "Mm but is athrosiosh...." "To me. Fortunately, there is only one person with good taste in this room, so this should be up to your liking. Now chop chop, I don't want it dribbling off my fingers and staining me for life."

While the metal of the spoon was getting a tiny bit warmer, the trails of the frogurt slowly melting off Rhys' skin made him reluctantly open his mouth and give the cold mass a lick. The familiar taste made his eyes open, while not fully, a lot more, and he grabbed the spoon, eating everything off it.

"How did you find Fran's here?" "Who's Fran." "The frogurt lady. Unless she started selling these goods through grocery shops." "Oh yes, pumpkin. I just spent 7 hours on opening shop-bought creams." "That sucks on you." 

Rhys cackled and yawned. "But, where did you find my Fran's fav?" "Where? Well jee, princess, let me think of every shop being close by. Oh, right - they typically don't have atrocious and horrible tastes. I'd be scared living here if others would like this as much as you." "Mm, so, was this what you got from Elpis?" "I don't think - - My God, please don't act dumb, I'm doing everything in my mind not to kiss you at this moment. No, it's--I worked on it. All day. Based on the description you said. No ice shop here, and no van with fun music around. It's just me, making you a treat." 

Rhys felt his mind open a bit more, finally letting the information he was hearing process. "Wait so - you made it?" "Unfortunately." 

Jack's face was still covered in shadow but, the softness of his voice and the hand, wrapped under the right ear as the thumb was slowly careering his cheek, felt like enough signs the guy was in a good mood. 

"You didn't have to but... How did you get the perfect combination of flavours and textures? It feels just so right." "I had my fair share of horrible meals I had to make in my life to sustain someone." "You truly didn't...have to-" "Yes, and I won't redo this massacre anytime soon. But check the freezer on your 'sad nights ice cream times' or some other shit mood." "No - - I meant the kissing. I mean - both." "... Kiddo I..." 

Rhys' consciousness was drifting back and forth but he knew he was speaking very nonchalantly.

"Come to bed then. You look tired." No one had ever said these words in a more confident, job-winning way. "I need to put the atrocity in the fridge but -- I'll uh. I'll be back." "That would be nice." "Don't fall asleep before I'm back. Wait for me." 

Not even five minutes later, after running what felt like a marathon, Jack came back to the master bedroom and heard Rhys soft snores. Shaking his head and talking about how the guy would get mad in the morning for the state of the clothes, Jack gently joined him in the bed and wrapped his arms around him, finally feeling the tiredness hitting. He didn't mind it, though. The warmth, spreading in his chest, helped him fall asleep easier than the past few alone nights. This wasn't a sweet moment. Probably not even bittersweet. 

But a weird mix of ingredients the guy in his arms liked. 

His tongue was to be examined but... 

Maybe some other time.

[seaghosst]

we need to stop characterizing misako as a terrible mom and instead hate dr julien for deadbeat and leaving echo in that damn lighthouse

[sneeb-canons]

Soul has a cabin where he keeps things from past loops in. A few things of note are:

-A tape recorder with an early version of ‘We’re Gonna Win’

-Mind’s first pair of prosthetics

-Heart’s first blindfold

-Pictures from various concords where they’re all happy

-Recordings of Mind reading or singing

-Recordings of Heart doodling and writing lyrics

He keeps these with him because he just wants to only be in concord and to rewind back to when heart and mind weren’t blind and mute respectively. He knows he didn’t cause either, but he just needs them back to ‘normal’ so bad it physically hurts him. When he goes to his cabin, he always comes out crying because {God, why can’t things be better? Why did all this shit happen to us? What did we do to deserve this?}

And also, going hand in hand with this, during concord, Soul records EVERYTHING. He is so scared that this loop is the last loop they’re like this, and next loop they’re going to rip each other to shreds. He just can’t let any moment go to waste.

Headcanon #127

[jenna-louise-jamie]

thinking about yassen gregorovich instead of sleeping (because i love him) and how he is a catalyst. yassen stabbs ash -> ash kills john rider -> ian rider raises alex -> yassen kills ian rider -> mi6 blackmails alex into becoming a teenage spy.

i have so many thoughts that i can't properly articulate. obviously this is a simplified chain of events, but yassen and his choices set off a chain reaction of the world's most unfortunate dominos. especially when you read russian roulette. to be clear im not necessarily trying to blame him for everything because that feels very mean. he was also just a 14 year old kid when everything in his life went wrong, just like alex. only difference being yassen literally had no one.

i think i should write an essay about this because i haven't even gotten into my thoughts about what yassen and alex's dynamic would look like past eagle strike. i would imagine it'd be similar to ellie and joel from the last of us part 2.

where obviously yassen loves alex and alex on some level cares for yassen back but struggles to reconcile that with the fact that yassen is responsible for his uncle's death. a very unforgivable act. it would be so messy and complicated and angsty, because on one hand here is an adult who truly cares about him and has a connection with him through his father. yassen could tell alex about john, and trust that yassen truly wants whats best for him. but he killed ian, and he cannot take that back.

while alex reels from those feelings, yassen is also trying to reconcile his love of alex with the knowledge that he on some level is responsible for the suffering alex endured at the hands of mi6. and possibly even the fact that alex's godfather is the one who killed john and helen.

[astral-riddles]

Hello Reverse 1999 fandom. I am a newbie player & I just finished chapter 2

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What the fuck is that.