#hi I love them a normal amount-

[bells-of-black-sunday]

@witchcraftandburialdirt asked:

Upon the dock they stood, the nightly tresses of his benefactor seemed to frolic amongst the salt soaked wind, flavored by the very sea whose waves seemed to bow before his beauty, though no pleasure crossed his features as he gazed outwards in the direction of home. Home which now felt so foreign and far as the promise of unfulfilled joy consumed his very being, a bitter fate which he had paid for marked into reality by plank falling onto timber. The gulls' aubade to the morning sun resounded in the man's ears as screams, as if to weep upon the agony of passion below them, a sweet poison coursing within the man's veins which was placed upon him throughout the passage of time-- one where the fury of the field was the only place solace existed. Yet in the silence of the slain and the intimacy inside woven walls, the man found only the whispers of Tarhos' voice; deep and rumbling like thunder over wheat, and yet…so tender in his words. As though each was entreating for the grace and mercy the knight had never received within his life span, a hushed cry meant solely for him. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to imagine the night without that voice, without being held so comfortably, without his blue eyes to stare into and lips to kiss. 

The vision reminded him of the Hell priests would warn of. How could he ever be happy again without having him by his side to hold and cherish?

The paralians were swift to cut the ropes, releasing sails which eagerly caught the tempest within their canvas. Before this time…long ago, those great sails would have been the victory banner of Christ, stitched together with angel's raiments as they were hoisted into the beautiful azure of the morning sky. Yet this covenant of hope was embittered, what would have once brought him joy had burned into ash on his tongue. Freedom and home…did they truly mean anything now with this burning fire within the cavern of his chest which only cried for one thing? One simple, lovely thing that would be ripped from his hands the moment his foot stepped onto that ship. That single movement would throw Tarhos into his past with only a marbled face carved from memory to be his bride. How foolish could one be, to toss a life of sunshine and quiet meadows away if only to be beside one man who brought such brutality and anguish? To stand so close to that which he had longed for, only to now feel half-hearted and bereft about such a blessing; it could never amount to the whispered prayers placed against his neck within the nights' hours.

Not when blood soaked hands cradled his hips as though holding communion, a reverent touch remarked by the essence of fluttering desire brought to life by the breathy refrains which left their lips after each shared kiss. How the Knights' breath and voice filled his spirit with the tolling of death bells and the song of church choirs; a cacophony of dread and brilliance wrapped into a singular man which held his heart tightly–as if ready to feast upon it. By now that carnivorous carnal hunger was less a blanket over them both and moreso a red threaded border which swaddled this newfound emotion. That which vexes all men, what it meant— and how that feeling would doom him, but alas…Tarhos was the one thing he would never repent for. He swallowed the pit of misery in his throat, feeling it build into a slowly filling pool of dread ── He couldn't do it - he wouldn't, and so, his plush lips parted to speak:

“I … I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you, like this, forever. Even after life.

── Medieval Verse

There was something always so solemn about the coast, it's beautiful blue waves lapping against the pale beaches with hundreds of ships some trading bodies like they were cattle put to auction. He was no stranger to cages like that. Huddled together with other men and women passing disease between each other like the very air they were breathing was caustic to their lungs. The same venom held even now when he knew what the plan was, what the maiden had asked of him so long ago. The ache in his chest wasn't the air this time as much as he would pretend it was. No. Haruko had swiftly become his entire world.

Every scream from the gulls sounded like a murder and the unfurling of sales like the wings of a great beast ready to snatch him from his grasp, but he had no right to demand the other to stay. While the knight knew cages and long roads very well, the maiden knew the sea and the shackles below deck. Passed between lords like a prized canary to sing for their amusement his wings had been clipped every time they grew back. He knew the snarling cornered animal in his tent when they first met far better than most. He was just a bed warmer to the captain, a piece of flesh to keep his rabid dog satisfied and yet... he never touched him.

The silence was deafening, but all he could do was watch. For all his faults he would never force someone to stay near him. Haru was his own person just like he was even if most wouldn't see it that way. He watched the wool of the maiden's dress flutter in the wind and the last call for boarding overtook the gulls screams before the maiden's voice pierced the silence and a wave of relief like he had never known washed over him, "...I want you to stay too." A quiet admission, but relief flooded every word. The knight helped the maiden down from the dock and back into his arms.

If there was divinity he had found it in every fiber that made up the warmth of the man in his arms as if he were the rib plucked from Adam to make Eve. He was everything he never wanted to let go of.

[sunclown]

Goomooornin!

[moeblob]

So does he, Gallagher.

[thatgothsamurai]

This is it. The last image I want to see.

[chvvva]

how to be a master detective: take care of your employees

[saessenach]

We're settled where we should be.

Bertha & George Russell in Never The New, episode 1 of The Gilded Age

[katabay]

trains :)

this is a very rough and scribbly comic, but sometimes that's all a comic is going to end up being lmao. the guy with the jacket is darren, glasses is andy. not featured, andy's dead brother who nevertheless insists on haunting the subtext

the main thing I wanted to draw was the train tho

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

[titaniafey]

Upon stumbling across the concept art of miles' sketchbook in my feed. The studies on gwen's form in dance got me wondering if miles had sat in or caught a glimpse of gwen in dance class. Orrrr... homeboi spent some of his vacant hours making these poses up and thinking about her.

Just a thought

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights as college roommates and maybe some identity shenanigans thrown in would be so fun! Maybe dannys doing a little vigilante work on the side as well to up the secret identity mayhem

Danny would like to say his college career is going well. Gotham isn’t where he was expecting to pursue higher education, but the engineering scholarship he got through the Wayne Educational Foundation was just too good to turn down. It even covered the cost of an apartment! Although, the apartment is shared with another student who got a Wayne scholarship. 

Even with that, Danny lucked out and got a great roommate. Duke Thomas is chill, kind, respects Danny’s space and doesn’t throw wild parties or invite random people in at all hours of the day. He even joins Danny twice a week for study sessions!

Really, it would be the perfect college experience except for one thing: the ghosts.

Danny thought they’d stay in Amity Park. They had no reason to stray from the city where the portal was, and his parents are more than enough to keep most ghosts away. It took his friends, Jazz, and even Vlad to convince Danny that he wasn’t abandoning Amity Park and that the city wouldn’t fall while he took a few years to focus on himself. 

He worried right up until he got to GCU and walked the campus for the first time. Then he decided to enjoy the four years he had on the scholarship to get his degree and live his own life like a normal person.

To say he’s pissed about the ghosts is an understatement. 

The one thing he was looking forward to most is not being Phantom. Gotham is home to the Bats and they’re more than capable of handling everything in the city. It means there’s no need for him here and he can focus on school and enjoy going on invisible flights without worrying about being hunted down or having to fight a ghost. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as he feels the familiar chill race up his throat, A cold mist wafts out of his mouth, curling around his words, and Danny quickly ducks his head and hides it from sight. 

“Did you say something?” Duke asks, looking up from where he leans against the kitchen counter, squinting at a recipe on his phone. 

“Nah,” Danny lies. “Just stressing.” He gestures to the papers he has spread out on the dining table, then stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Maybe that’ll get my brain to work correctly tonight.”

“Got your phone on you?”

Danny reflexively drops a hand to his pocket, checking that his phone is where it’s supposed to be. It’s what Duke asks every single time Danny mentions going out, worried about Danny being unprepared for Gotham. It’s nice of him, though Danny does wish he can say that he’s survived a lot worse than a few muggers. 

“Got it.”

“Alright. I’ll try to work on dinner while you’re out.”

Danny nods and offers Duke a small wave before pulling his shoes on at the door. He grabs his keys and heads out, double checking that the door is locked behind him. 

Then he glances around the hallway, checking that the coast is clear, and pulls up the chill of awareness in his chest. Slowly, he breathes out, watching the blue mist waft out and lead towards the stairwell. 

“Wonder who it is this time,” he mutters to himself, going into the cold, concrete stairwell. It always feels a little off in there, as if he’s been removed from the rest of the world when the door closes behind him. His footsteps echo oddly in the space, so Danny chooses to fly instead, keeping his feet off the floor. 

A few flights down is when he sees her: pale and translucent, a faint blue glow around her. She’s a familiar face. Emilia is one of the first of Gotham’s ghosts he’s met, leading to the rather unpleasant realization that ghosts don’t only come from the Infinite Realms. There’s a strange sort of magic in the very foundations of Gotham that makes it the way it is, creating ghosts that are different enough from what he’s used to that it leaves him off balance. 

Gotham keeps her dead. Few get to pass on peacefully, and most have to wait until they grow weak and wither away, a second death, before they can be released from the living realm. The ghosts of Gotham are pale and weak, for the most part, and try to cling to him so grow stronger from his ectoplasm. 

Most want him to help them pass on, or give them a way into the Infinite Realms. Some want him to bring justice to their killers. Others want to kill him and take his ectoplasm for their own so they can continue their reign of terror in Gotham, unable to be stopped even in death. 

Emilia gives him warnings. It’s not always her, but she tends to be the one to draw him out of his apartment, pulling him into a vigilante lifestyle because he can’t bring himself to refuse anyone who asks for his help, and the dead in Gotham have no one else to ask.

“Danny,” she greets. “Nueve is out again. He’s going after the ghosts near Chantilly Street.”

“The sun isn’t even down yet,” Danny grumbles. Nueve, an old gang enforcer who died a few decades ago, cannibalizes other ghosts. It doesn’t destroy the other ghosts, not really, but it makes them feel pain when they shouldn’t be able to feel much at all. Taking their limited reserves of ectoplasm makes him momentarily stronger, and he uses that stolen strength to try to harm the living.

He’s been successful a few times. Danny makes sure to rip him apart as much as possible these days; he won’t be here forever, but he’s hoping that within his four years at GCU, he’ll be able to permanently stop Nueve.

Times like these, he misses having a Fenton Thermos with him. Though he’s not entirely sure it would work on Gotham’s ghosts with how different they are. 

Emilia follows him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Once there, Danny shoves his hand into the floor, taking out the backpack he’s hidden in it. He’s done this change of clothes so often he can do it in just a minute now, hiding his face and pulling on gloves beneath a large hoodie with old ectoplasm stains along the sleeves and hem. A gas mask is pulled on as well, covering the bottom half of his face, a necessary addition to his Ghost Work Outfit™ after he almost got caught in some Fear Gas during Scarecrow’s last attack. 

“Alright,” he says, “Lead the way.”

Emilia takes off through the wall and Danny hurries to follow, going invisible as he hits the streets. 

It’s still early evening, the sun not yet fully set. Plenty of people walk along the sidewalks and cars pass by endlessly, honking at each other as they try to go twenty above the speed limit. Danny does his best to avoid running into everyone, deftly dodging the reaching hands of a few ghosts who spot him as he sprints by. 

They only go a few blocks away from his apartment building, turning into a dead end alley where a group of teens (living, for once) are stuck with their backs to the wall, clinging to each other as they warily watch the man in front of them carelessly twirl a gun around his finger. 

The man makes a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat, and it takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s trying to talk. 

Still invisible, Danny sneaks around to stand in front of the teens, ready to bodily protect them. The man looks alive, and Danny see any ghosts around save for Emilia, standing at the mouth of the alley. There’s something strange about him; his movements seem just a little off, not quite as fluid as they should be. It’s not the movement of someone on drugs. It’s something that screams uncanny valley.

The gun’s handle drops solidly into the man’s palm. He makes another few clicks, then raising the gun to point at the teens.

“Bad idea, pal,” Danny says dropping his invisibility. The teens behind him startle, gasping and trying to press themselves further into the wall. 

The man’s eyes flash weakly and the pieces click into place in Danny’s mind. Nueve must have gotten strong enough to possess someone. That is… alarming, to say the least.

He rips the gun out of the man’s hand and tosses it aside. Then he pushes away the man’s arm when Nueve makes a clumsy attempt to punch him. With his chest left wide open and undefended, Danny takes the chance to shove his hand into the man’s chest, feeling for the familiar chill of a ghost. 

And then he wraps his fingers tight around it and pulls out Nueve, leaving the man to collapse. 

The teens behind him scream and Danny winces. 

Pulling out a faintly glowing human figure from someone’s physical body does not look good. It’s the best way to end a possession, but it does look alarmingly like he’s just ripped someone’s soul out of their body.

Keeping hold of Nueve’s ghost, Danny steps to the side. “You guys should go now. Take care.”

The teens don’t need any more prompting. They take off in a run, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

Danny spares a glance to the man unconscious on the ground, but there’s nothing he can do with an angry ghost in his hands, so he has no choice but to leave him there as he flies up to a rooftop farther down the street. 

“How many times do we need to do this, Nueve?” he asks tiredly, shaking the ghost.

“These streets should be mine!” Nueve howls, trying to break free of Danny’s grasp. But he’s quickly growing weak, his energy fading, and Danny’s holding back his own ectoplasm as tightly as he can. “They may have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take what I’m owed!”

“Dude, you’re dead. There’s nothing here for you. Move on.”

“You don’t get to speak on this, outsider. You think a freak like you has an say over us? You can’t stop us. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Danny squints at him. “What, are you planning a heist or something? With your gang of dead people too weak to lift a piece of paper?”

“We’re not all dead. We’ve got living folk helping us and we’ll be taking you out first when we hit the streets.”

“Good luck with that,” Danny says flatly, “Begone with you.” 

Without giving Nueve a chance to say another word, he rips Nueve’s head off his body. His ghost wavers, then dissipates like smoke, fading away. 

Another side effect of whatever it is Gotham does to her dead: their ghost forms are remarkably fragile and it takes only a bit of strength to tear them to shreds, giving him some peace before they reform again. It won’t stop Nueve from striking out again, gathering enough strength until he’s able to possess some other unfortunate soul, but Danny’s bought himself some time to figure out what the hell was he talking about?

There are living folk involved with whatever he’s planning. It’s probably another gang, maybe someone with magic who is able to see ghosts? Which is not great. Danny doesn’t know much about magic; even when facing ghosts who used magic or magical artifacts, his go to method of dealing with them is to start throwing hands like there’s no tomorrow.

Well.

It’s a problem for later.

For now, Danny needs to get back to his apartment and work on his calculus homework. Hopefully he can finish it before he gets frustrated enough that he gives up and lies face down on the floor until Duke manhandles him onto the couch, where he’s less of a tripping hazard.

He’s just about to get back to street level when his Fenton Luck strikes again and he hears someone land on the roof, just a few feet behind him.

“Hey there, stranger,” the Signal says. “You know, we run into each other so often it feels rude not to introduce ourselves. Why don’t you go first?”

Danny turns to face the daylight vigilante, standing with his arms crossed as if that would make him look any more approachable. He’s been popping up wherever Danny’s out dealing with ghosts, which is very not great for Danny’s plans to have a peaceful, normal college life. 

Biting his tongue, Danny gives the Signal a quick two fingered salute, then goes intangible and drops down through the building. His invisibility sweeps over him and then he’s running through the streets, hoping it’s enough to keep the Signal from following him to his apartment.

He skids to a stop in the stairwell, dropping his intangibility just in time to crash into the wall. Panting, Danny waits for a tense minute to see if he’s been followed. 

When the door to the stairwell remains closed, he lets out a slow breath, then pulls off all the pieces of his Ghost Work Outfit, shoving it back into his bag. He takes a moment to fix his hair, messy from the hood, then shoves the bag back into the floor, safely hidden from curious eyes. 

Then he very casually walks up the stairs to the fifth floor and walks down the hallway to his apartment. His keys clang together when he opens the door, and Duke usually hears it when it does, but just in case, Danny calls out, “I’m back!”

He’s learned to announce himself after a few late night walks almost ended with him tackled to the floor when Duke thought someone was breaking in.

Duke doesn’t respond as he toes off his shoes. The stillness in the apartment feels off, as if the world is holding its breath. Cautiously, Danny walks in, trying to find his roommate.

He’s not in the kitchen. The living room is empty. Duke’s bedroom door is open and he’s not in there either. 

Something cold lodges itself in his chest. 

“Duke?” he tries again, looking over their apartment again for any sign of struggle, or something terrible happening, or even a mess that Duke needed more supplies to clean up. 

There’s nothing. The apartment is as it’s always been, just with an empty space where Duke should be.

Worried, Danny stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out what he should do next. It’s because he’s standing so still, surrounded by silence, that he hears it: a light thud outside the window. 

Danny turns and he can swear he sees something large moving outside the window, disappearing from sight just as Danny takes a step into Duke’s room to check on it. He rushes to the window and pushes it open, looking down at the street, then side to side, and finally up to the last three floors of the building.

Nothing’s there.

Slowly, Danny pulls his head back inside, closing and locking the window. “Must be my imagination,” he says, trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal. 

He leaves Duke’s room and begins pacing down the hall, anxiety building steadily in him. 

His phones in his hand before he can think his actions through, Duke’s contact pulled up on the screen. He should call. He should make sure Duke is okay, but Danny hesitates. Is this something to be freaked out over? Would Duke thing he’s clingy and nervous and a bothersome roommate? He doesn’t want to risk Duke asking for a new roommate next year when the lease renews.

But he’s worried. It’s Gotham and Danny just dealt with a violent, murderous ghost threatening him. Duke can deal with a stressed out, worried Danny if it means he’s alive.

He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings on and on and on until Danny starts to panic about having to find Duke’s ghost to avenge his murder. 

The front door is thrown open so suddenly and so loudly, Danny jumps and his phone clatters to the floor. 

“Danny! Hey!” Duke says with a bright smile, trying to catch his breath. He’s still holding onto the doorknob, slightly hunched over as he pants for breath. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

“Where were you?”

Duke straightens up and closes the door, kicking off his shoes. “Oh, just… out. Shopping. For dinner.”

Danny looks over his empty hands doubtfully. “No luck finding what you needed?”

“Nope!”

“What did you need? Maybe I can go to a different store and get it for you.”

“You don’t need to!” Duke says. “I just needed… tomatoes?”

Danny blinks at him. “We have tomatoes. Did you not know we had tomatoes in the fridge?”

“Oh, do we? Good to know.”

There’s something very weird about this conversation, but Danny doesn’t pry. Duke is weird sometimes, but it’s fine because he kindly ignores some of Danny’s oddities that come from being a halfa and a semi-retired hero. 

“Do you… maybe wanna sit down? Catch your breath? I can make dinner tonight if you want.”

Duke waves a hand in the air. “No, no, it’s fine. I got this. Anyways, how was your walk?”

He definitely shouldn’t talk about the cannibal ghost and his threats to take out Danny with his gang. “It was nice. Very quiet. You know, for Gotham.” He punctuates this with an awkward thumbs up and immediately regrets it, but it’s already done so he commits to it.

“Cool! Great. Just wondering, did you see anything weird?”

“Depends on what you’re asking about?”

“Just some guy wearing black with a hood covering his face. He’s been active in this neighborhood and I saw some people talk about him online. Apparently he just appears out of thin air.”

Danny tries not to wince. That’s him, alright. Gotham’s newest neighborhood menace. “I don’t think so, but there’s a lot of people in Gotham that were all black and walk around with their hood up.”

“True,” Duke concedes. “Well, just be careful when you go out, alright?”

“I always am.” He gives Duke the same two fingered salute he gave the Signal. Duke stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and almost dangerous, then he smiles and walks into the kitchen. 

“Wanna make dinner with me? I think we can figure out this recipe together. Unless you need to do your homework.”

“It can wait!” Danny hurries to join Duke, grateful for an excuse to push off calculus a little longer. He understands what he’s doing in the class, there’s just… so much work. He doesn’t even want to think about the tests. The tests make everyone cry.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then!”

“You’re in charge, chef,” Danny says, laughingly, and bumps against Duke’s side. He expects a light shove in return, something Sam and Tucker always did, but Duke goes tense instead, letting out a sharp breath that Danny is all too familiar with. “Wait, why are you hurt? What happened?!”

He goes to lift up Duke’s shirt to inspect his shirt, see the damage for himself, but Duke smoothly moves out of the way, grabbing Danny’s wrists and stopping him in his tracks. “I’m fine, Danny. I just got hit. Lightly. Minor bruising, really.”

Danny looks at him doubtfully, then wrenches a wrist free to lift up his shirt before he can move again.

Minor bruising is not how Danny would describe the blues and purples that decorate Duke’s entire side. He can see the outline of Duke’s ribs through the bruising. “How is this being lightly bruised? What hit you?”

“A car?”

“A car?!”

Duke winces, then pulls his shirt down. “I’m fine, Danny, really. It was just from a car that didn’t want to stop at a red light. I stopped another person from being hit, but the car got me pretty solidly. You know how bad Gotham drivers are.”

“Sit down!” Danny says, pulling Duke out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you’re still standing. I’ll get some ice, and I’ll handle dinner. You just stay there and stop pushing yourself for no reason.”

“Playing nurse for me now?”

“If I have to.”

“Would you wear a nurse costume for me, too?” Duke jokes.

Danny looks him dead in the eye and says, “If I have to. Would that make you follow my instructions? A tight little nurse dress?”

Duke sputters, cheeks darkening, and looks away. Danny grins, victorious, and darts back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the fridge. 

“Maybe I’ll wear one for you anyways, once you’re all healed up. Only if you’re good, though.”

“Danny, you’re killing me here.”

“Better me than a car.”

Duke laughs and takes the ice pack, pressing it against his side carefully. “Oh, for sure. Thanks, Danny.”

“Hey, what are roommates for?” Danny shares a warm smile with Duke, then pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen to start making a simple pasta dinner. 

Life in Gotham is weird and stressful and full of ghosts and heroes who won’t leave him alone. But it’s not all that bad, really. He’s happy with how he’s doing in college, and he’s beyond lucky to have Duke as a roommate. So long as Duke never finds out about his halfa status, then he’s sure they’ll be able to last all four years rooming together.

He just needs to keep a secret. 

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

[vaimetanyx]

Oh how wonderful, how terrifying, to be loved to destruction

The full quote can be found here

[unexpectedbrickattack]

get normaled, idiot

[jessaerys]

"But I finished [Near and Mello] together as a set, and although they aren’t particularly laid out as such, I still feel a bit like they’re twins." —Obata Takeshi

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same:

i. low sky, mahmoud darwish. ii. the world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire, ritika jyala. iii. kadan, 2008. iv. the dreamers, gilbert adair. v. @nathanielorion vi. nagiko, 2016. vii. elektra, sophokles (tr. anne carson). viii. wishbone, richard siken. ix. inbred, ethel cain. x. the boy who, tirol. xi. monster portraits, del samatar and sofia samatar. xii. in the field, @nathanielorion xiii. death note, "use" ch77. xiv. gut symmetries, jeanette winterson. xv. mystic union; fire and wine: poems, john gould fletcher. xvi. @inukai_0055, twitter. xvii. the carnivorous lamb, agustín gómez-arcos. xviii. my sister, the serial killer, oyinkan braithwaite. xix. the beatrice letters, lemony snicket (text); a quiet visitor, holly warburton (art); @unpardonablesins (edit). xx. ada, vladimir nabokov. xxi. this is how you lose the time war, amal el-mohtar. xxii. the borgias, s3e10, showtime. xxiii. @antaarf xxiv. @vilicity xxv. @boymiffy

[bevirspnsblmnt]

Did Astarion ever confess his original plan to Khael? How was his reaction to Astarion needing to abstain from sex because of the feelings it brought up for him?

(I absolutely love Khael. He is adorable and I would like to give him many hugs if that’s ok ❤️)

maybe the dark urge was the asexuality we realized along the way. but jokes aside, Khael is cool as a cucumber about it, of course! that's like the most natural thing to him - after all he never actually initiated sex with astarion at any point (even in the game! it was so fun when I noticed!) and waiting for him to feel comfortable in that kind of intimacy again was no issue at all (also, fun that they both feel comfortable doing it again in a graveyard, very romantic of them lmao). (also I like to imagine this is the moment both of them went "maybe I don't experience sexual attraction like the rest of the people around me" and just - rolled with it.)

(heres my personal headcanons for both of them - khael is demi and astarion is grey-asexual)

[xjustakay]

(9/8) prompt: colorful — 982 words (fame au pt.2; ft. drunk and whiny james - pt.1, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus can barely make out the shadowy silhouette of James on the screen of his phone, just the occasional glimpse and the reflection of colorful flashing lights catching on the lenses of his glasses. He’s so close to muting the call, because the loud music of the club that James is at is just shy of annoying, not to mention the fact that Regulus has an early call time on set in the morning. He’s in bed already with only the bedside lamp on and everything. But he and James haven’t been able to catch each other outside of sparing texts every few hours for the last couple days, so when he saw the FaceTime call, he picked up.

He misses his boyfriend, sue him.

James clearly feels the same way, because for what’s now the fifth time, he brings the phone closer to his face just to loudly, drunkenly whine, “Baby, I miss you.”

“It’s just a few more weeks, baby. We’ll be alright,” Regulus mumbles. 

It’s a mantra they’ve both adopted since his filming really got underway. One that’s kept them holding on through the harder days of separation. Regulus is in France and James is still finishing the last leg of the band’s tour. In a perfect world, Regulus would be able to follow city to city, but he’s got a job, too.

“Think of the closing show,” He offers as some semblance of comfort.

Their first public appearance, the only true confirmation made by them to the press that they are in fact together. Because despite the fact that it’s been months, and they’ve been dodging rumors and cameras like it’s a second job to them, they haven’t done that yet. Taken that step. They decided the end of The Marauders’ tour was their best bet unless they wanted to wait until Regulus’ next premiere invite (they didn’t; it’s another two months away). Regulus will be flying back to London for the final night of tour, taking a long weekend before his return for his final weeks of filming. James will be going with him.

“What?” James is practically yelling now to be heard, and the momentarily higher volume makes Regulus’ eye twitch. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. He reminds himself to avoid irritation.

“James, why don’t I just try to call you tomorrow?” He tries.

Colorful lights flash brighter over the screen, stinging Regulus’ eyes when James brings his phone nearer to his ear, unthinking of the camera facing the club’s ceiling.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” He repeats, voice a touch too loud for the late hour in his hotel suite.

“No, no, no, wait, hang on,” James mutters quickly, words slurring together a little.

Regulus sighs and turns his face into his pillow while James is distracted. Honestly, he’s exhausted. Did a thirteen hour day of shooting and has to be back at it first thing, but where six months ago he would have hung up on James drunk calling him two minutes into the call, now he’s hanging on to every second he gets. He buries how pathetically infatuated that is of him the best he can. They are together, after all, his feelings don’t have to feel so much like a nuisance anymore.

James ends up outside of the club after a minute, the change in volume stark. The colors dancing over him are gone and instead it’s the yellow of street lamps that illuminate him a bit better on the screen. His face comes into view, glasses slightly crooked on his nose and cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol he’s consumed.

“Hi, baby.” James smiles adoringly at his phone and Regulus feels like he could combust.

His mouth twitches at the edges as he tucks his free hand beneath his cheek against his pillow. “Hi, darling.”

“Miss you.”

“You mentioned that once or twice.”

“Can’t wait to see you. I have airline apps and miles, gonna get a flight to you right now.”

“Mhm, I’m sure you are.”

James pouts. “You don’t believe me.”

“You’re a little drunk, baby,” Regulus notes.

“Can still get on a plane,” James argues.

“You don’t want to be here, I have to kiss my costar a lot,” Regulus teases gently.

Dramatically, James drops his head back on his neck and groans, loud and anguished. And damn it, even that is endearing of him somehow. Regulus is fucked.

“Hate this so bad, Reg,” James complains.

“I know, baby, I know.” A sigh, then a yawn. James is staring at him through the phone when he blinks slowly.

“You’re tired,” He says, brow creased. “Wait, did I wake you up?”

“Probably should have asked that about fifteen minutes ago,” Regulus chuckles. “But no. Was already in bed, though.”

“Miss being in bed with you.”

Regulus doesn’t offer any of the insinuating remarks he might typically. James is drunk so it’d probably go right over his head anyway. Aside from that, the fact is Regulus knows the feeling.

“Soon. A few more weeks. We’ll be alright.”

James sighs, but there’s a lazy smile curled at his lips, yellow light making his glassy eyes shine. “Yeah, we’ll be alright.”

“Now, please—” Regulus cuts off on another, longer yawn before shaking his head where he lays. “Please go back inside and find my brother before you drunkenly wander into some stranger’s arms just because you want a cuddle.”

“I’d never,” James stresses before he abruptly laughs giddily. When the unexpected string of laughter fades, he shines so bright with his joy that Regulus can’t help but smile in return. “I’m dating a movie star.”

“You’re so drunk,” Regulus snorts. “Go back inside. Text me to let me know you’re alive later.”

“I’ll always text you, Reg. Always always.”

“Okay, baby. I’m going to sleep now, alright?”

“I miss you.” Seventh times the charm, apparently.

“I miss you, too.”

[otaku553]

My brother recently got into Demon Slayer so I wanted to make a kny oc for him since I did it before with both me and my sister and never got around to my brother :)

But I started by refreshing my own design because wow?? It’s been 4 years since I first made my kny insert character and a lot of things are now outdated! Not to mention my art has improved a lot, I hope. More details under the cut!

Meet Ebisu Koharu: youngest of the Ebisu family and physically the weakest. They only barely passed Final Selection by hiding for the entire week and surviving off tips from their older siblings. Nonetheless, they still want to contribute, which is why they hold onto a thick, leather bound book that records every demon they’ve ever met in precise detail, with labeled diagrams and scribbled calculations in the margins of different strengths and weaknesses.

After spending a few years on the job, and properly seeing their data contribute to the successes of other demon slayers, they’ve come a bit more into their own as a competent researcher and fighter, though they still do tend to request paired missions with friends and family to act more as a support role rather than a fighter.

The Ebisu family is one of scholars. The eldest daughter Kaoru is a doctor, and the eldest son Shougen is a chemist. By nature, fighting is not necessarily their strong suit, which is why their family breathing style and techniques are all poison-assisted. Of the three, Koharu is the weakest and most averse to combat— they wield a short half-length blade, with more of a smooth ceremonial hilt and sheath than any practical weapon.

[unluckyprime]

aquarium date 🫧🐟♥️