#it took 2 hours to write

[hyakunana]

"My friend, my partner… my Guardian."

[officialdaydreamer00]

Aimless outing

in which you took your significant other out for a ride.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: kinda short oneshot, lower case intended, this is just a spoonful of sugar tbh, everyone thank deuce for lending us his blastcycle, kinda ooc idia? idk, actually based on a screenshot in the game i'm playing and i love that lmao, reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours

★ the daydreamer speaks — my second entry for my tumblr older sibling @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! the worms are worming and i'm on a roll hehe ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @keii-starz @xen-blank @loser-jpg @lemonchuu @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @escha-evenstar

remember to comment or reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Yuu-shi, where are we going!?"

"Somewhere, anywhere! Does it really matter?"

a slow sunday and the lack of immediate tasks in your schedule was all you needed. and what better way to spend the day with your beloved than taking him out for a ride?

deuce was kind enough to lend you his blastcycle for this little trip of yours, wishing you good luck and all, and you've already gotten permission to go out from the headmage the day before, as much as you hated his gut. meanwhile, ortho was doing his best to get idia waiting outside of campus, and making sure he didn't second guess his desicions before you arrive.

and that led us to where you were now, going kilometres per hour as if gliding through the highway, feeling the cool wind of a chilly afternoon excitedly picking up your hair as the sun retreated behind the mountains. you loved the thrill it gave you, if the bright wide grin on your face was of any indications.

idia, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. with his arms coiled tightly around your waist, hands trembling ever so slightly, he hid his face in your hair, not daring even a peek at the blurring surroundings.

"It's not a ride if you can't see what made it so fun in the first place, Idia! Just give it a try, then we can go back if you want."

idia stayed quiet, weighing his options. he could ask you to go back and return to the monotony of his life, safe yet nothing special. or, he could continue on this ride, just you and him on the road to an ambiguous destination.

he opened his eyes, widening as they laid on the most beautiful painting of dusk mother nature had drawn. white, pink, and orange blended together so harmoniously on a darkening blue canvas. rows of clouds lined the sky, bouncing around the little lights left of the sun onto the crashing waves the sea created.

his breath was taken away.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

idia could only muttered a soft 'yeah' as his eyes glued at picturesque scenery, taking in all he could for he wasn't sure he was going to see such a sight again. his tight grip on you slowly loosened, now only wrapping around your waist like a warm hug you would give him on chilly days.

the moon soon made its appearance as the canvas of nature was painted black, stars glimmering from beyond like diamonds in the sky. the two of you was making your way back to campus, with the blastcycle's headlights and idia's hair illuminating the road.

idia found the night sky was beautiful, a lot different from dusk, but he loved it all the same.

it was a fleeting sensation of a thrill so different than what his heart was used to, but it was welcoming, a comfort even. especially when you were there with him, laughing without a care and genuinely living in the moment.

it was a memory he wished to never forget.

[harrowharkwife]

i'm so used to there just being random unidentified bones laying around everywhere in these damn books that it finally occurred to me, just now, to wonder where the bones on new rho came from. y'know, the bones palamedes always tried to teach nona necromancy on.

they're his.

palamedes, who always loved teaching, living on borrowed time in a body that's not his own. palamedes, mentoring, teaching- parenting, by sixth standards, mind you. and that boy is sixth, through and through.

and the entire point of teaching nona necromancy in the first place was to try and determine if nona is, well, nonagesimus, right? so it has to be bones, it can't not be bones. bones are, like, her whole thing.

but they're not in the nine houses, anymore. things are different, on new rho.

they burn bones here. dig up the cemeteries. a society terrified of zombies will evolve to dispose of its dead differently.

the only bones he has access to now are his own. (camilla wouldn't let anyone take them- skull or hand, doesn't matter. they're still him, and she doesn't let go, remember? it's her one thing.)

palamedes woke up every morning wearing someone else's body to then gently place the shrapnel of his own in the cupped palms of a girl who's the closest thing he'll ever have to a daughter and try to teach her- how did the angel put it, again? normal school, as much as possible, for as long as possible.

(but hey, in a roundabout way, at least it's a chance for him to touch camilla again, right? nevermind that she's not there to feel any of it because he's in the driver's seat, that he can only stay for fifteen minutes at a time. it's atoms that belong to camilla touching atoms that used to belong to him, and that's close enough. he'll take what he can get, these days- if she can be their flesh, he can be the end. so what if holding his own bones is a mindfuck? so what if looking at them makes him nauseous? surely he can suck it up and deal with it for fifteen minutes. it's the least he can do— his poor camilla was the one who had to scrape the bloody pulp of them off the floors of canaan house.)

(speaking of, here's a fun fact: we actually only see nona practicing with the bones one time, on-page. camilla's final line in that scene, before palamedes takes over, is none other than: 'keep going. there are some bones left.' ow!)

remember, too, that the only part of dulcinea, the real dulcinea, that palamedes ever physically touched, was her tooth- the one that ianthe gave him, pulled from the ashes cytherea burnt her down to. he only ever touched dulcie once, and it wasn't until after she was already gone, but that doesn't matter- it still happened, and you can't take loved away.

in this same roundabout, bittersweet, by-proxy sort of way, palamedes has been physically touched by nona, too: the atoms she currently occupies, touching atoms that he used to occupy, and never will again.

the main interaction we've seen between palamedes and his mother took place back on the sixth, with her acting as mentor and him as pupil: the two of them studying a set of hand bones, juno encouraging him every step of the way.

we know that harrowhark's "most vivid memory of her mother was of her hands guiding harrow's over an inexpertly rendered portion of skull, her fingers encircling the fat baby bracelets of harrow's wrists, tightening this cuff to indicate correct technique."

they're still small for a nineteen year old, but the wrists are bigger, in this new set of memories nona's making. and it's not an inexpertly rendered portion of skull anymore- it's a hand, now, albeit one crafted from [a piece of skull reassembled (painstakingly—passionately—laboriously reassembled) from fragments, manually, and not by a bone magician, from the skull of someone who, soon after death or symptomatically during, had exploded.] and the identity and origin of these bones is no mystery at all. they belong to palamedes, and he's consented to their use for this purpose, and that matters.

but the details are just set dressing, really. the foundation of the memory is the same.

palamedes and his mother, juno and her son.

harrow and her mother; pelleamena and her daughter.

nona and her father-mother-teacher; palamedes and his daughter.

[remxedmoon]

“the valiant bison. it leaps to protect its fellow creatures, but not you.”

hooved

2 power - 8 health - 3 blood

protector - when a creature on this card’s side of the field is about to take damage, this card will jump forward to take the hit instead.

sharp quills - once a card bearing this sigil is struck, the striker is then dealt a single damage point.

BISABEAU!! YIPEEE! and a fancy custom sigil to go with him! wow! writeup below, as always

that custom sigil huh!! i had to rewrite that description SO MANY TIMES and it STILL ISN’T PERFECT GRAAAA. i couldn’t fit it into the proper description, but isa’ll return to his original spot after taking the hits. he basically redirects all attacks on his teammates to himself. like a moleman but in reverse.

also ^ he won’t try to protect terrain cards! because that’s a boulder. not his friends. the entire concept around the sigil is based around him protecting his friends from harm.

sharp quills is there to let him counterattack while covering for his allies! fun fact, in my original concept for this card, this was replaced with the mighty leap sigil?? for some reason??? even though airborne cards can’t attack cards on the field?????? idk what my thought process there was. thank god i caught that before finalizing his card

don’t ask how he has sharp quills btw. it’s uhh. his horns. yes. the quills are his horns.

i went back and forth between calling him a bison or a buffalo. his design was based more on water buffalo than american bison? but i ended up going with bison just because it was shorter lol. plus the bisabeau pun. i am beholden to the pun.

you might’ve noticed that the patch is in a different spot here! i couldn’t find a spot that didn’t cover an important part of the card. so i had to go through the miserable experience of moving the patch and cutting it out even more thoroughly to prevent it from messing up the pixels around it. somehow that damn patch was harder to make than the CUSTOM SIGIL.

speaking of the sigil patch. he gets burrower! which makes him move to any empty space that’s about to be attacked. functionally, this means that ALL damage on the board will get redirected to him. except for airborne attacks i guess

this card doesn’t have a hidden trait! and there’s a reason for that! because…

“a meek, unassuming calf. it has not yet learned its own strength.”

hooved

0 power - 2 health - 2 blood

fledgling - a card bearing this sigil will grow into a more powerful form after 1 turn on the board.

clinger - when one of your creatures is placed in a space, a card bearing this sigil will move towards them as far as possible.

TWO CARDS!! he gets to have a fledgling form :3

fledgling is self explanatory i think? i wanted to keep some kind of reference to his Change and this was the best way i could think of! lil baby thing based on his past self…

clinger is a sigil from act 3! it’s like. only on the lonely wizbot i think. initially i was just going to give them sprinter (which makes them move to a different space after attacking) but it felt… too similar to the elk fawn for my liking. and it felt more appropriate character-wise

this card is also part of the reason why i went with bison. buffalo calf is a long name!!!

idk how well it comes across but they have their lil braid!! i wanted to include the glasses in some way but it felt a little out of place with the card design. so they only have the braids. a necessary sacrifice

i realize that burrower is a TERRIBLE sigil for this card but! i had to keep it consistent with his mature form. hope your bison calf doesn’t fling itself into danger and die! oops!

that’s everything to do with these cards! phew! that was a lot of text. here’s the patchless versions!

[disneyprincemuke]

is it killing you like it’s killing me?

alternatively: we haven’t spoken in almost a week (prev)

in which she and logan try to navigate the worst part about dating your literal coworker

(series masterlist)

logan sits in his seat, leaning forward to prop himself up on his elbow as he tries to type away on his phone in the least awkward way possible. he hears the heels clicking against the gravel first before he catches a whiff of a familiar floral scent.

he doesn't turn his head directly, just shifts his eyes to his side, watching his literal girlfriend walk right past him without even stopping by to greet him. he can almost make out the sound of her sweet voice amidst the noise around him, her shocking choice for a dark motif outfit contrasting against the pure white of the person next to her.

only then he realises that his girlfriend is quite literally walking around the paddocks with mercedes personnel. she engages in casual conversation with susie wolff every once in a while around the paddocks, but never has he seen her out and about with her. mick trails behind them, looking down at his phone as he matches their pace.

upon simply walking past the williams patio, mick looks up at the lack of the younger driver's acknowledgement of the guy in blue sitting very obviously in the white chair. mick cranes his neck back, shooting logan a questioning stare.

to which, logan only shrugs. mick is one of the few friends that she decided to tell; by that, he means that they got caught sneaking around the paddocks last year right by the haas racing home.

"still walked right past you?" a british accent makes logan tear his eyes off his girlfriend, meeting alex's brown eyes as he approaches the table. "how bad was the fight that you guys had?"

"pretty bad," logan mutters with a small smile, putting his phone down gently on the table. "did george tell you anything? did she tell them anything about the fight we had?"

alex frowns, shaking his head. logan came out and confessed that they, in fact, have been in a relationship for about two years. at first, alex was a bit appalled that logan was able to lie to him so fluently for the majority of the season.

after he processed his initial reaction, which only took about a minute or so, alex cheered and congratulated logan. as far as alex was concerned, it physically hurt to watch this young man be head over heels for someone he presumed to not be as interested in him as he is with her.

with his new-found knowledge of their involvement, alex went on a mission to pry george and lando - the people she's consistently stuck with all week - to try and figure out if she's said anything to them. or, has at least told them what's running through her mind.

alex did immediately run off. he was not glad to find out that his friends found out before him, but was very excited to share his new discovery.

he ran to the mercedes' racing home about an hour ago, squealing and giggling as he yanked george away from toto to talk. they were shortly joined by lando, spewing detailed accounts of the night he caught them in japan on a date.

then lando dropped his giggles, shaking his head at the assumption that their fight looked like it had gotten pretty bad. george then perks up, whispering very softly and incoherently about how bad it had seemed two nights ago during the opening ceremony rehearsal.

"they said she's been quite reserved since the first night," alex explains, lips pursed as he tries to remember everything that had nothing to do with the fact that he disappeared for a hot half hour because they derailed from the original topic of conversation.

alex found themselves talking about how they saw her crying in max's arm the other night, then concluding the conversation with what hair colour he should get next. "they said she's been with max a lot. hasn't even really talked to oscar, lando said."

logan scoffs, locking his jaw. he's not saying he's jealous of max verstappen, though it does seem to be that way to the naked eye.

okay so he's jealous of max verstappen. but in his defence, who wouldn't be? logan finds himself consistently at the back of the grid race after race, and there is his girlfriend sharing simple celebrations with the two-time world champion.

more often than not, on a race weekend, when she has to force a little distance from him to avoid partaking in the rumour mill, she's adopted by the older drivers to shower with information and a lot of love.

"yeah, she was walking with susie earlier," logan gestures at the long stretch ahead of them in the paddocks. "and she's wearing black."

"black?" alex repeats, raising an eyebrow. "like full black?" logan nods. "oh, you guys have got to talk soon. how long haven't you talked?"

"about a week."

"god," alex cries, rubbing his eyes. "okay, okay. we'll find a way to make you guys talk, okay?"

"how? she's been avoiding me all week. and i think this is something we need to come together on our own and figure out."

logan does have a big ego, but it all seems to fall apart when it comes to her. it's always been a topic for shits and giggles growing up though that seemed to change after they went on their first date.

almost immediately, everyone could tell how head over heels he was just for her.

"yeah, but neither of you is even trying?" alex points out, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows. "are you serious?"

"i can see how i worded that wrongly."

alex pushes his chair back, heading straight for the building behind them. "i will consult the madman. wait right here."

"whoa!" logan calls out, throwing his arms in the air. "you told your girlfriend that i have a girlfriend? dude, you were sworn to secrecy!"

"you're not as convincing as (y/n), from what i heard," alex purses his lips together, shaking his head. "and, lily knew before me, anyway. oscar's girlfriend whispered it in her ear when they went to the club last night when (y/n) refused to go out on the dance floor."

"fine. but come back with good news only."

"i'll try my best."

"it wasn't easy, i guess," toto shrugs, his office chair being manoeuvred around his small office by his feet planted against the floor. he stirs the coffee in his cup and looks at the girl curled into a ball in the chair on the other side of his table. "you need to put each other above the results of a weekend. you should not have let that get to you."

"but i guess it is kinda hard watching your girlfriend achieve the things you want to also be achieving," susie mutters, fingers pressed against her lips as she thinks.

for susie to know of her relationship with logan, you'd have to date back to over two years ago. susie had been fully vouching for her, trying to get her opportunities in a higher level to help her progress. so, of course, she had to excitedly tell susie about it.

if there was anyone who would be supportive, it's her. and susie didn't find a problem in their relationship, only claiming to tread carefully since they are always racing against one another.

susie is just more surprised that the difference in performance and the pressure of it all only just got to them now. racing alongside one another in f2 should have been the one that did it, but she guesses it's because they used to be a lot closer in the results back then.

"basically," toto sighs, blowing cold air into his cup of coffee. "put your relationship first if you want to make this last. and i know logan means a lot to you, so i am sure you will find a way around this."

"but why did it feel like it was my fault that he wasn't achieving the same things as me?" she sighs, throwing her head back into the wall with a soft thud. she looks at the ceiling of toto's office, knees to her chest as she hides away from the cameras and the prying questions of those who know of their relationship.

"you need to come together in the moments of hard times," toto mutters, shaking his head. "he's not doing well; you are doing well. find a middle ground."

"how am i supposed to do that, toto?" she yelps, melting into the seat, legs and arms spreading as she scratches the top of her head. "we literally just had the biggest fight of our relationship. two nights ago, i didn't even think there was no other way out of this but a breakup until max made me talk to susie."

the reason she's been following max instead of sebastian around all weekend is because she thought that he would be able to figure it out with her. alas, they were both stumped that night of the rehearsals, sipping on beer in a nearby bar.

she found herself hopeless, bracing herself to admit defeat to the pressures of dating someone within the sport. until max perked up after chugging half his glass of gin and tonic, eyes shimmering as the greatest idea he's had all night finally came to him.

"you know who i bet had to navigate a tricky situation?" max asked her, pointing a finger to her face knowingly. "susie and toto."

she hesitated, but max did make a compelling case. all he had to say was: "she used to race and he was an investor in the motorsport."

"i think," susie speaks, then pauses as she flutters her eyes to think for a moment, "that you're both great kids."

"thanks, that's exactly what my mum said," she answers flatly, unamused at the answer.

"so it might not be as difficult to resolve it," susie smiles. "i'm sure you can find a way."

"i'm here because i don't know a way," she repeats, throwing her arms around in the air. "you can't just say that to me and expect me to come up with a resolution instantly. i've avoided my boyfriend for almost a week because i thought there was only one solution!"

susie exchanges a smile with her husband, who is quietly giggling to himself at his table. then she looks at the young driver with a smile that emits less ridicule. "i can't do that for you. you have to figure it out with him; not us."

"are you saying i need to go and talk to him?" she frowns, folding her arms over her chest. "like i have to go up to him and talk to him? in person?"

"you can't do it over text message," toto frowns in confusion. he lifts his eyes to look at susie. "right?"

"she can," susie laughs, sitting on the armrest of his seat. she looks at the driver again. "but she shouldn't."

“handle this like an adult.”

“fine.”

logan was simply minding his own business in his driver's room when alex barged in (he's been doing that for the past week because he knows there's no possibility of a girl inside) and dragged him out.

he wasn't going to ask questions, he just followed alex blindly, dropping his head low in confusion.

right by the steps that lead into the william's racing home, their small group is huddled into a makeshift circle. they're leaned in with hushed whispers and excited giggles with lando even getting a bit loud with every couple of words he said.

she likes to call them the elite group that's somehow managed to find out about her and logan, though everyone argued with her that they didn't make much of an effort to really keep it under wraps.

"okay, so we came up with a plan," alex says, finally letting go of logan's sleeve.

max lifts his head, hands on his hips. "i wouldn't trust any plan you come up with."

"hey, i came up with that plan," lily.m scoffs, holding a hand against her chest. "excuse you."

"oh, then that's better," george agrees with a smile. "so what have you come up with?"

"really? you trust a plan that had alex's input on it?" lando cries, scratching his head. "you're gonna break them up! that's not the outcome we're trying to achieve, people! focus!"

"highly offended, actually," lily.m frowns. "like you can come up with a better plan."

alex waves his arms in the air in an attempt to hush the chatter that his friends are in. "no, listen! it's a good plan!"

"i also have a plan," mick speaks up, reaching his arm out into the middle of the circle to get their attention.

"i'd trust him more than whatever you two have come up with," max mutters, pointing at the couple accusingly.

logan actually appreciates the banter that's going on and it almost makes him forget the real reason they've all gathered here today. it's refreshing to be the one in the middle of older drivers' conversations.

this must be why his girlfriend has grown quite fond of them. but it's hard not to feel like an outsider.

"hey, we spent the better part of our alone time in my driver's room scheming!" alex defends himself, reaching out to push mick's arm away.

"hey, don't do that!" george laughs, smacking the back of alex's hand. "apologise!"

"guys," oscar finally speaks up. "i think we should address the problem at hand?"

"we will, but max says my plan would never work!" alex squeaks. "take that back!"

"i'm only speaking the truth!"

"but mate-"

"what are you guys doing?"

"hold on, (y/n), max is being- (y/n)!" alex screams just as everyone turns their head to find the smaller girl looking up at their group with a weird stare. she holds a pepsi tightly in her hands, pressing it against her chest as she takes an innocent sip.

logan feels his heart drop at the sight of his confused girlfriend standing there staring at them with wide eyes. but he also just feels an overwhelming surge of relief finally being this close to her again.

oscar is right: this is the longest they've gone without talking since they all met during karting. even his months-long trips back to florida never kept them apart from one another for this long. a couple days at best before they start falling back into old habits.

"we're having a," max trails, turning his head back to desperately search for somebody who can finish his sentence for him. "a..."

"we're discussing what to get for supper after the opening ceremony later," lily grins, elbowing oscar beside her to push him forward slightly.

oscar stumbles a step forward, clearing his throat as he meets his best friend's eyes. "yeah, we haven't found a place yet. we were just about to find you to ask you if you had any ideas!"

"and you're all going together?" she asks suspiciously, her eyes slowly scanning the participants of the circle. she momentarily meets logan's eyes before she settles for oscar's gaze again. "all of you?"

lando looks around, realising how weird their group has grown to be. he takes the initiative to answer her: "yeah. why not?"

she presses her lips together, moving her head to the side slightly to show him that she's not entirely buying the lie. "really?”

“yeah,” max nods excitedly. “we couldn’t find you so we discussed first.”

“but i’ve never seen you,” she points at oscar, then at logan, “and you hang out with george before.”

logan raises his eyebrows, taken aback by her sudden verbal acknowledgement of his presence. he shrugs, then turns his head to oscar for help.

“what, we can’t get to know each other over dinner?” george calls out with a scoff. “all this criticism — do you even know of a place we can go to to get some late-night food?”

“can it wait?” she asks sweetly with a small smile. “i kinda need to talk to logan alone.”

there’s a moment of silence.

“you’re making dinner plans without us, aren’t you,” mick jokes, furrowing his eyebrows at her. “why would you do that?”

she laughs, walking towards her boyfriend with a hand held out to his arm. “i just need to steal him for a little while — i promise we’ll head out to supper with you guys tonight.”

her hand lands on logan’s arm, wrapping itself around his arm. “we’ll catch you guys later?”

“okay,” max answers hesitantly. “don’t forget to think of where to eat.”

“max,” alex says through gritted teeth, hitting his shoulder.

“what?” max asks innocently, throwing his arms in the air as they start to pull away from the group.

she barely takes two steps away from them before she whispers to him, “can i talk to you for a bit?”

“yeah, of course,” logan nods, putting a hand on the small of her back. “your room?”

she nods with a small smile, then picks up her pace. she reaches back for his wrist, making him flinch at the first feel of her skin he’s gotten in the longest time. but he doesn't pull away, just lets the sliver of skin he can feel past the cuff of his fireproofs warm him up.

she rushes up the stairs leading up to the door of her racing home, head hung low as they navigate an all too familiar route. a route he hasn’t taken all week, but has been wanting to, and coward away from.

they’ve only got 15 minutes to figure this out in one sitting before it’s considered suspicious. they never stay in for too long to avoid suspicions within her team. just like a teenage couple would, they eventually keep the door open to prove that they're definitely not doing anything suspicious inside.

she greets her team principal with a small smile before she disappears into the stairs with logan still letting himself be dragged in by her. she makes a quick sharp turn into her room and closes the door behind her.

she faces the door, her heart racing in her chest and her hands start to sweat at the thought of confrontation over their intense fight. she came straight from toto's office and went to find logan, only to be told by james that he was dragged out by alex a few minutes prior.

she takes a deep breath and turns around and barely has the time to process just how much she's missed her boyfriend because she's being pulled into his arms in a tight hug.

"i'm sorry," logan mutters into her hair, his arms desperately clinging to her smaller frame.

she slowly lifts her arms, wrapping them around his torso to return the tight grip. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean what i said - i'm sorry."

"no, you're right. it's not my fault that i can't deliver for races. i shouldn't have taken it out on you," logan sighs, pulling away. "it's- oh, please don't cry."

"i'm sorry," she repeats, starting to heave heavily out of guilt. just the sheer thought that breaking up might have been the only way has been eating at her all day. "logan, i-"

"please don't cry," logan whispers, his lips pressing as a knot forms on his forehead. great. now they're both crying. his thumbs swipe over both her cheeks in an attempt to dry her tears but the new ones just keep undoing his efforts. "you can cry but don't make me cry. only one of us can cry at a time."

and then she couldn't hold it in anymore. she breaks into a louder cry. "i'm sorry i thought breaking up was the only way out of this. i'm sorry - i just didn't see how we could have moved past something as big as what we were fighting about. i love you, logan, but i didn't know what else i could do. i'm sorry."

suddenly it felt like someone had thrown a knife directly into his chest. the entire week, the thought that she might have considered breaking up with him came up many times. he was good at keeping those thoughts at bay, but hearing it directly from her lips just felt different.

it hurt differently when it came from the person you think is your soulmate.

"oh."

she stifled a sob when he straightened his back and dropped his hands from her cheeks. "i didn't know what to do. i'm sorry. i didn't know how long more we could go on walking on eggshells every race we would have. i hated hurting you like that every weekend. i hated seeing you force smiles, laughter and neverminds just to accommodate to me.

"i," she cuts herself off, forcing herself to swallow the sob that's bubbled up from the deepest part of her chest. she tries to blink her tears away, but it falls anyway. she turns away from him momentarily to wipe it away on the cuff of her fireproof. "i couldn't keep doing that to you."

"you," logan sighs, throwing his head back, palms covering his eyes. "you really think that i care about any of that? i contemplated; i told you, two years ago every single outcome our relationship could have on us! you knew this was bound to happen and now you're telling me you thought about ending it over this?"

"because i saw the way you would look at me every weekend! you didn't look at me the way you did in singapore when i was up on that podium when we were in bahrain at the start of the year. you can say you love me and that you're happy for me, but i can tell!"

"tell what?"

"i can tell that however much you loved me wasn't going to be enough for you to push away the growing feeling of-" she sighs, and tears her eyes away from him. she settles for the teddy bear sitting on her bean bag. she presses her lips together, jaw locking as she hates herself for what she's about to say. "of eventually hating me."

"why would you ever think that i could grow to hate you?" logan rubs his face roughly, then runs his hands through his hair. "i- god, i'm so in love with you! i was - i am - happy for you, but i could also see the pity in your eyes every weekend that i would finish behind you! you're sorry for me! i don't need that from you - everybody already always looks at me that way."

"because i know you on the track! i've raced against you my entire career - i know what you're capable of!"

"then why do you keep looking at me like i'm always just going to crash out every race?"

"i want to see you succeed! i hate seeing you like this! i hate having to go everywhere and watch and listen and look at people speaking about you like this! you're nothing like what they say!"

"i don't need your pity! i need you to be my girlfriend - i put you above what happens on a race weekend. if you succeed, then you succeed and then you can go and celebrate! but i never minimised any of your achievements just because my race went haywire. if i crash out and you've somehow managed to break a record, that's okay! it's doesn't fucking matter, because your achievements obviously mean the entire world more than that.

"stop trying to think of what i will feel when you succeed. i'm your boyfriend - i am always going to be happy for you. separate our results from our relationship. if you keep letting it get in the way, this will never work."

she straightens her back and snaps her head to him. "you want to break up with me?"

"no," logan sighs, shaking his head tiredly. he takes a step forward, her eyes dropping to his feet then lifting it to meet his eyes. "i don't want to break up with you, i'm just- i didn't speak to you very nicely before we left for vegas. i think i didn't word myself appropriately and i'm sorry."

"you were right about some points, honestly, it doesn't-"

"i didn't mean to blame you for the way i was feeling, and neither was it my intention to back you into a corner because i couldn't get a grip in an f1 car. it's not right."

"but, logan-"

"stop trying to take care of me and my feelings. i promise i always literally get over it when i see your team throwing you around when you make history."

"that's not fair," she says softly, leaning into his touch when he lifts his hand to cup her cheek. "you can feel feelings too. i don't want you to deprive yourself of that."

"i can be sad about it another day that doesn't interfere with you. it doesn't matter what i'm feeling retiring from a race when you never fail to deliver results."

"that doesn't solve my problem, logan. i don't want you to hate me."

"i'm never going to hate you," he laughs softly, throwing his arms around her for another embrace. "why would you ever think that?"

"because i've seen this happen to friends in the same field. one succeeds more than the other, and the latter can't cope. it almost always ends up falling apart."

"emphasis on 'friends'," logan smiles slightly, bending down to meet her at her height. "you're my girlfriend. we're always going to have to find ways around shit like this. we knew that when we started dating. right?"

"yeah? but it just doesn't sound like a solution i'll be okay with."

"i promise i'm trying to get better so i can redeem that one deal we made in bahrain at the start of the year."

"god, logan! you're disgusting!" her hand comes down to land a smack on his shoulder.

he bursts out laughing and leans down again to make their noses touch. "we're going to be okay."

"really?" she grins shyly, her hand resting above the back of his hand that's pressed up against her cheek. "you really think we'll be okay even if we're in f1 for the rest of our lives?"

"i know so. i know that because my mama didn't raise no quitter - i'm never leaving you."

"why'd you have to ruin it?"

"it was getting too sappy."

"maybe i preferred you guys when you were fighting," max scoffs, walking away from the seat he's just been evicted from. "you were able to act like two normal human beings."

"everything about this week is normal!" george cries, shaking his head. "she wore sunglasses indoors after making fun of me for it! how is that fair?"

"i literally told you i'm sitting next to logan," the younger driver states, glaring at max. "you went and sat next to him anyway. you did this to yourself."

"we're in america - it's called first come first serve."

"i literally don't think that's how it works," alex sighs, turning to look at max. "be better, max."

"trust me, i'm trying."

kidy/n

liked by logansargeant, blythe.yln and 73,482 others

kidy/n guys we’re still friends i promise i just can’t stand him when he makes me go fish with him because huh

view 13 comments…

comments on this post have been limited.

logansargeant no cuz why did u post this

logansargeant i thought you were joking

kidy/n learn to take me seriously every once in a while idk

oscarpiastri appropriate picture to end the us races imo

sebastianvettel ?

yukitsunoda0511 i’ll go fishing with u logan :/

lilyzneimer i’m going to have to disagree on this y/n

kidy/n please say jk right now i know you’re not defending this fish murderer

georgerussell63 hahahahahahahaha

kidy/n ?

williamsracing can we borrow these pics? asking for a friend

kidy/n merch with these photos?

williamsracing we’ll deliver it straight to your doorstep

logansargeant ???

@littlesatanicassholebitch @what-is-happening-helpp @myxticmoon @gentlyweeps-world @nerdfromanotherworld @n7ytiri @alliesreblogs

[excali8ur]

What are they scheming?

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[catboydan]

my very specific prediction for the upcoming AITA video: he'll open by explaining that last week on the gaming channel he had an 'AITA' moment himself [insert clips from the dan eye incident here]

then he'll lead into the vid by saying something like "and that inspired me to ask you all for your 'am I the hole' moments", and only then will he bring up that this time, he asked for specifically dating/love-related stories, leaving us to piece together that the intro is a dating/love related story via the maxim of relevance

[finemeal]

Title: Champion

I'm gonna post these separately because I know people who like DC don't necessarily like DPxDC SO! This is my DC Pokémon AU piece I did for a game in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games server! Hosted by @artdecielle, we played Guess the Artist: Through the Screen. I had so much fun drawing Jason with all these poke's, and it took me a total of 9 hours and 37 minutes.

The Pokémon shown on the left from bottom to top:

Houndoom

Feraligatr

Staraptor

The Pokémon shown on the right from bottom to top:

Gengar

Haxorus

Gliscor

I imagine Jason is a Pokémon trainer who has become Champion at this point. Trained by the Chairman of their region: Bruce Wayne (who has trained many Pokémon Champions). Eventually, Jason will become a Gym Leader when the next protégé becomes Champion, but right now he's holding it!

Tried to add the Red Hood symbol on his shirt and make him feel very Jason. I excluded his white tuft cuz I felt it would give me away in the game, but I do generally imagine him with it! I'm just so proud of this piece and had so much fun making it <3

[mrghostrat]

Big Name Feelings - 15/17

“Can I have a tour?” he asked. “You’re not busy, are you—?” “Of course not!” Aziraphale’s eyes brightened and he hoisted himself up to his feet, only taking a moment to straighten out his shirt before turning back to the camera with a proud, gleeful smile. “I cleaned the whole house yesterday, so the timing’s actually perfect. Let’s pretend it always looks this way.” “Oh, good.” Crowley cleared his throat and threw a glance over his shoulder. “Just don’t look behind me, and we’ll pretend mine’s just as tidy.”

[pepperyhoney]

COLLEGE END TERM EXAMS ARE KILLING MEEEE but

I saw someone saying that he is blaming himself for something that is not his fault completely because he always does (re: AM retirement), and that katsuki is showing how much he is a soft person at heart. And how he is not to blame for this. But i have a slightly different interpretation from this.

i think Katsuki was not a soft person. and I think that here was not a show of how much he loves to blame himself. it is stated again and again how much of him is brash and callous and arrogant, and like his mother and himself said, he is given too much praise and never really tasted rejection or failure—except from himself. and even then, he never dwells too much on it and just keep having the mindset of improving and one upping everyone including himself. the sigma grindset, if you will. Even though his outward theatrics shows how explosive he is and how he gets so agitated at many things, he has shown that he has more emotional control in battle than even Midoriya-I-Will-Go-Berserk-Over-My-Endangered-Lover-Izuku. like he even has to remind Izuku to not dwell on things lest it kills him.

Then he came back from the dead.

The death itself is a significant factor. "Can I still catch up to you?" as one of his last thoughts, was something he now consider his reality, his acceptance of himself and Izuku. He reframed the way he tasted failure and rejection of what he thinks the way he is - of how he perceived Midoriya and that what he rejects about him in the first place then came to reject him in return-into something that once again motivates him to win and to always have a goal, his newborn northern star.

When All Might retires, he blames himself because all might is the symbol of peace and people around the world now lost it and there's a new imbalance that he feels are a part of his responsibility. But truly, regardless of anything, all might will retire anyway due to his injury. It is not his fault. He just hates the feeling of "failing" to save himself, that he needed to be saved. He doesn't want to accept that.

Then we get a narrative of how quirk is viewed by the world, the sides of it, and the darkest part of it. Izuku is shown to be affected by this too, while relying on his own belief that stems from all might idealism (the vigilante era). But then his class shows how much that idealism is no longer sustainable, and repeating the same things aren't going to do anyone any good. Katsuki, despite the lack of narrated inner thoughts, is a part of crowd who instill it to izuku as well. Then he apologized. He knows that Izuku is this self sacrifical because of him. That he thinks he can't truly save anyone without giving a part of himself. Which circles back to how he accepted izuku as a rival and a partner. He now see him as he is and accept the part of it was his fault. Katsuki went on with life because he thinks that now Izuku can always change for the better, like he always do, and he will be there on his heels, to be with him and to accept his hand, and i quote, "for the rest of their lives".

When izuku has to give up OFA to try save Tenko, when he really showed how much he is willing to give up anything- even the greatest gift and his raison d'etre that is propelling him to this point along with Katsuki himself (because you know, izuku extend his hands to everyone and that starts with his extension to Katsuki), That is really what hits home to him. That they're so interwined with each other, that izuku has always been a hero to him as much as he is to Izuku, that the extended hand he swatted all those years ago, is the same hand that still give a part of himself away to tenko shimura in an attempt to save him. Izuku was always a hero because he will not hesitate to save anyone.

Now that he saw Izuku as a rival, and saw izuku as what he is, he truly sees how much saving is tied to the act of being saved, that everyone has to help each other to truly win, that to protect someone, you have to be willing to be protected to save yourself, too. Now, the hand he rejected all those years ago, the person he rejected again and again, is unable to save himself from fate, and the worse part, he can't protect him from fate and himself. He saw how much his actions truly meant, he saw how apology only grazed the surface wound of the consequence of a childhood ignorance. Now he truly understands that all he wanted was to protect Izuku; that it was all a misdirection of what he truly wants, to be a hero that protects people. that misdirection in turn bites him in form of losing his hero that saved him from himself. So, with tears of realization too late, "no... just what the hell did i do to you?".

the despair he feels is because he has so much respect for izuku and that bittersweet feeling of knowing that izuku choice is going to change everything, as well as knowing he has a part on it. He can't take back anything, and izuku has to live with it, and how does it truly feel to see the one you now saw as your equal, goal, northern star, to rise and dim because of you?

Katsuki was not a soft person. he is, now. Because he is saved by the people around him. Thats why his wish was to save izuku, too. He wishes there was another way, he wishes that the fate izuku has didnt have to enforce izuku's already self sacrificing beliefs. He wish that he is saved from the fate. He cries because he knows he is inseparable from it all-even if it wasn't truly his fault. He loves and respect him and knowing he is inseparable of what makes him love and respect him is making him realize the gravity of the situation. He changed so much from the brash and arrogant kid he was, that now instead of being angry and challenging at fate not going his way, he yearns for them to change so that the person he truly cares about is saved. His admittance and heartfelt confession is one hell of a leap and show how much he changed, and reducing it to him blaming himself for something not his fault is kinda redundant and insulting to his character development.

[corpsentry]

edited my pants

[raineandsky]

heyyyy i love your work! could you write about a hero who is given to villain as a gift from supervillain, and although villain is excited his enemy is in his possession at first, he starts to notice the hero is oddly withdrawn. by the time he realizes the hero’s been practically tortured (nothing graphic) by supervillain, he finds himself trying to clean the hero’s wounds. despite his hatred for the other, whatever supervillain did was a step too far. thank you! have a good day 🍀

i hope you have a good day too! thank you for the request as always :)

tw: implied torture/abuse, injury

“Well, I thought [Supervillain] catching you was funny,” the villain says slowly, “but this…”

There’s no words for whatever this is. Old bruises, dried blood. More wounds than the villain dares to count.

Maybe the supervillain’s use of the word ‘catch’ was underselling their part in the hero’s journey here.

The villain had noticed the uncharacteristic quietness, sure, the lack of sharp edges. He’d thought it might be a bruised ego. He thought being gifted the hero meant he got the hero, and not this empty husk that looks like him.

It all makes painful, unfortunate sense.

The villain unties the binds from the hero’s wrists. The hero doesn’t move. “You… you realise you’re not tied down, [Hero],” the villain tries after a second.

The hero glances down at the red raw lines biting his skin. “Yeah.”

The villain stares at him for a long moment. “Okay,” he says shortly. “On your feet.”

The hero lets the villain push him in an awkward shuffle into the bathroom. He watches as the villain rummages through his cupboard, pulls a box down, continues rummaging through that.

“Sit down,” the villain says shortly. “In the bath.”

The hero does as he’s told—a new characteristic, the villain notes—and slumps down in the bathtub. The villain manages to finally wrestle a first aid kit from the box.

“I’ll need you to take your shirt off, okay?” the villain says slowly.

The hero’s expression turns from blank to distressed in a second. “No, I—“

“It’s okay,” the villain cuts in quickly. “I won’t hurt you. I just need to see.”

Eventually, with a bit of gentle pushing, the hero lets the villain tug him out of his shirt. The villain had fully intended to keep his face straight, but he can’t help the gasp of disgust slipping out.

The blood and bruises he saw before are nothing to this. Red tears at every part of the hero’s skin. The villain doesn’t want to look, but if he wants to help he has to face what the supervillain has done.

A small washcloth gets run under the tap, the hero watching distractedly as water seeps into the fabric. The villain carefully sits on the edge of the bath, washcloth wielded in his hand like a shield. “I’m just going to get the worst of it off, [Hero],” he says slowly. The hero glances up at him blankly. “It might sting, but it’s not on purpose, okay?”

This is far from okay, it seems. The hero flinches and fights back tears every time the villain so much as touches him. The villain tries to soothe him as he goes, but he feels a bit like he’s trying to calm a wild animal and that feels unfair on the hero.

The hero looks awful without the blood to cover the worst of it. Bandages are cut and wrapped quickly. The hero sits silently, staring at a spot of scum on the bath in front of him, trembling slightly under the villain’s hands. It’s too much. The villain feels sick.

He has to help the hero out of the bathtub. The man looks like a mummy with how much bandaging the villain has thrown at him, but it should hopefully keep the worst of the damage at bay.

It’s strange, helping his worst enemy in his own home. He hates the hero, despises everything he stands for. But what happened to the word vigilante? What happened to trying to spread the kindnesses the agency refused to afford? The supervillain has gone too far. This is unforgivable.

The villain only has one bedroom in his little house. He offers the hero one of his shirts and sets him in the one bed he has. The hero, from the nervous glancing about and wringing hands, doesn’t like it.

“What—” The words catch on nothing. He clears his throat quickly. “What’s the catch?”

The villain stares at him blankly for a moment. Jesus Christ. “There’s no catch,” he manages after a moment. “I’m trying to help you get better.”

The hero looks more horrified by this. “Why?”

“So you don’t die? I’m not a monster, [Hero].”

The hero’s face scrunches up like he’s going to cry. “O—Okay…”

The villain steers him under the covers as he snivels and breathes in shuddering breaths.

“Some sleep will help,” the villain offers from the doorway. “If it helps, you can lock the door from the inside.”

He taps the chunky lock on the handle, and the hero nods. With a quick, slightly awkward goodnight, the villain lets himself out, and a few seconds later he hears the clunk of the lock turning on the door.

He flops down on the sofa with a sigh. He wasn’t intending to sleep here tonight, but the supervillain’s never been one to respect other people’s plans. It’s hard, dipping in places with use, the cushions paper thin from years of sitting on them.

The villain has always hated the agency. He certainly hates the hero. But laying on his uncomfortable sofa, his own bedroom occupied by an injured, traumatised hero, he kind of feels like he hates the supervillain more.

[the-one-who-lambs]

When you're a mortal leading the "shipping the two immortals" pack but the three-eyed ex-god of death has the intrapersonal emotional intelligence of a piece of toast

Based on my fic, the Risen Lamb and the Fallen God lmao

[teabutmakeitazure]

Zuri's Declassified University Survival Guide

This is a post about survival tips in university (undergraduate), especially if you're an international student living alone in a different country in this circumstance. I will be adding onto this later on if there's something I want to add, so keep an eye out for update reblogs of this I guess.

General Tips:

it's okay to make mistakes. you are here to learn and grow. no one is perfect, especially in the first and second year of their studies. those are mandatory experimental years. you're not expected to get magically mature and perfect when you get to university (or college for you americans). be kind to yourself and analyse your mistakes instead of beating yourself over them.

don't bother too much about your wardrobe. just wear whatever's comfortable. you might think people care but no one does. more than half of the people at campus will be in sweats or pyjamas and if someone IS dressed up, they're probably arts kids or business majors and they're the ones with the least workload (yes i am dissing you guys I've seen your workloads stop lying).

put yourself in uncomfortable social situations. yes i said that. the only reason i somewhat learnt to make small talk and learnt to talk to strangers is because I go to every single social event that I can. it's not necessary to make friends in all of them. just talk to people, exchange contacts, laugh while the event lasts even if you never see them again. this is how you survive in the lonely dorm life. and if you make an actual good friend? amazing! it paid off. even if it didn't you'll probably network and build rapport and have acquaintances from different majors.

if you're an ethnic minority, don't be afraid. I cannot stress this enough. don't be afraid to be there and take up space. you are there because you deserve to be and qualified. sure, it sucks at times because a good amount of people won't interact with you because you're 'different' but the international students will and trust me they're the coolest bunch to be friends with (I have 0 such friends so far). most times you will have to take the initiative to talk and sometimes they won't respond or worse flat out ignore you but don't let that get you down. just don't interact with them again. the world is big. not everyone will like you and accept you. find the ones that will.

eggs and milk are your best friend. a glass of milk everyday and 2 eggs. make that a staple. eggs are also very versatile for recipes. more on that in the recipes section. also yoghurt. a smol cup of yoghurt everyday too and nuts whenever you can buy them.

always have a few pack of instant noodles at home. sometimes you have deadlines or you forgot to cook or need a quick dinner because there's so much to do and you didn't get groceries. always keep them in stock. they're a quick fix for food. I'm not promoting them for frequent dinner but it's better than starving. just eat the noodles man. there's already so much shit to keep track of just eat the damn noodles.

incorporate veggies into everything food. they're good for you. if you're like me and don't like veggies, experiment with different recipes and find the one you like best. one good way is fried rice or rice with mushrooms, veggies, and meat in the rice cooker (I don't own a rice cooker when I'm writing this). just eat your veggies and thank me later. if you don't wanna cut them up, get a pack of frozen veggies. it's better than nothing. baby steps.

meal plan. if I don't plan my entire week's food on sunday night, I do it the night before for the next day. eat out as less as you can. homemade is better even if you're a horrible cook. practice makes perfect and you'll be grateful for learning a few basic cooking skills along with your degree later on. cooking your own food also gives you the liberty to add more veggies or save money.

treat yourself to stuff sometimes. yes you deserve it even if you don't meet your goals. you're trying. be kind to yourself. get that boba.

study everything done the week by that week's weekend. do the day's content that same day and don't lag behind. utilise reading week and read. don't slack off please I'm begging you. I'll even get on my knees if I have to.

you're gonna miss home and it sucks. yes you will be having your fourth mental breakdown of the week on a wednesday night and you will be alone or hiding under the blanket as your roommate is asleep. you're gonna have to tough it out soldier. I see you and I feel you. it gets easier with time and when you're doing better, you'll feel relieved for toughing through. it's so lonely sometimes and it sucks but it's worth the pain. don't lose hope.

seniors are your friends. they will give you forbidden knowledge for free. from hidden places with good food or convenience things or just life advice exclusive to your institute, they have it all. they're also generally very friendly so don't be afraid to interact with them.

annoy the living hell out of your professor during office hours if need be and utilise the student help room for help. your tutors will be happy to help you so don't be shy to ask for help. they will appreciate you coming to them, trust me. as for your professor, they're lonely people. go to office hours if you need to, chat, ask them what you need. they'll appreciate your presence and happily help you.

the security guards and cleaning staff will be witnesses to your worst states (freshly out of bed or haven't showered in 2 days) but they don't care. they're just happy to be of service and have you around. be kind to them. greet them whenever you pass by.

sometimes coffee is bad.

if your classes start at noon or later, get an hour of exercise in the morning at around 8 or 9 am. the serotonin that will hit you will be unreal. trust me.

make local friends. they're cool people and friendly and very helpful and accommodating. I may be biased but it's true.

being a student helper, student tutor, or a research assistant looks good on your resume and helps you win more scholarships.

put headphones on when in public if you don't want to end up talking to someone you might bump into. it works.

your body also has rights. treat it with care. don't abuse it. nourish it. you should take care of your body like you would a loved one. feed it good things, clean it everyday, and so on. when you feel good by taking care of yourself, you still do better and feel more confident. wash your hair with a set schedule and use good products.

make your wardrobe easier. hang your usual shirts and maybe wear the one in front each day, the previous day's being hung in the back or in the laundry basket. it saves time.

there's no shame in not having stuff. I still don't own a proper laundry basket it all goes into an IKEA bag. you live in a dorm, not a house. sometimes not having every single kind of furniture or accessory isn't bad. don't compare your setup to others. if it's convenient, clean, and homey, it's good. you don't need those expensive lights or those expensive posters to make it seem cool. what you have and what you may collect among the way is enough.

notes on paper are better than laptop or ipad

take breaks. be kind to yourself. it is you for yourself. treat yourself with love.

manage your time by designating time blocks to a certain task. it might not always work but it will help create some discipline in the routine.

having a set everyday routine helps. you don't have to think what to do, thus saving you brain power.

use a semester planner for deadlines and important information. it's useful. I highly recommend. I also have a template if anyone wants.

write down your thoughts, what's bothering you, your feelings, everything on a piece of paper or journal at the end of the day. it'll help process your emotions and you won't have to let the thoughts and emotions fester inside you, slowly simmering and coming to a boil. remember, you are your best friend.

Recipes to help you stay afloat (they're all quick and easy dw):

right off the bat I want to say boiled jasmine rice with sunny side up eggs. you drizzle a pinch of salt onto the yolk, break it over the rice, mix it with the rice and eat it and it's just *chef's kiss*. definitely a comfort food and a very easy quick dinner.

a lot of these I found while scrolling through instagram and some are from when I was trying to lose weight. hope they're helpful!

oyakodon

one pot rice cooker rice with veggies

veggie and meat single serve in one pot

chicken wrap (primarily for weight loss I think)

chicken gyros (this guy makes amazing food)

minced meat weight loss meal prep

chickpeas (chana masala. this shit is bussin i swear)

something tomato + onion + egg

one pot veggie rice (recommended)

chicken shawarma (not dorm friendly cooking but looks delicious)

egg sandwich in one pan

potato marraka (THIS IS SO GOOD)

one pot rice cooker with meat and veggies

daal

chicken and rice

pizza style chicken wrap

five different chicken marinades for meal prep

one pot biryani

takeout style egg fried rice

rice cooker carbonara

one pot yoghurt curry chicken rice

weight loss chicken shawarma

healthier mac and cheese

chicken fajita

chicken tikka masala crunch tacos

one pan braised eggs

air fryer garlic bread pizza

another veggie and rice in rice cooker

fried rice recipe

hainanese inspired chicken rice in rice cooker

tomato orzo(?)

creamy tomato pasta

tomato and egg rice

mushroom sauce (can be eaten with rice)

creamy tomato tortellini

grilled cheese sandwich

[bongo-clash]

Peacock Au Part 1

Okay so Big Huge credit to @stealingyourbones for letting me do my own take on their amazing eldritch Danny idea!!!! This started out as me just doing a drawing but then I ended up with a whole DPxDC fic that I'll be posting the part two for at some point!!! Anyway, here's the vague designs:

And here's the part one of the fic under the cut!!! :D (Edit: Part 2 is Here!!)

There’s a Lazarus Pit forming underneath Gotham. Normally, this would not concern John Constantine at all, because it’s Gotham, therefore Bat territory therefore not his problem, and honestly he has his own things to worry about. Unfortunately for him, however, the infamous Dark Knight has somehow gotten it into his head that he can do something about it and, Hell, he’d said it would be a ‘big favour’, which meant the man really must be desperate; had to have been in the first place, he supposed, to have even bothered with John in the first place. 

Still, he’d almost kind of forgotten what a huge mess any kind of favour for Batman could be, and thus, he now holds possession of a book that is probably going to get him killed. 

Whether the actual book itself wants to kill him is up for debate, but Constantine has read the contents of this particular Book of Summonings and nothing in here seems remotely safe. He’s absolutely going to be hiding this away somewhere deep in the archives of the archives of the Justice League watchtower with an incredibly pointed ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ on it once he’s done with this, but for now, it’s the only thing he’s got in the way of sorting out this Pit problem. 

There’s an entity that exists, this book claims, that keeps the balance between realms. ‘Closes doors’, apparently, and the doors the pages depict certainly look like a Lazarus Pit. This is brilliant news, obviously, but the book doesn’t describe the entity itself at all beyond that; barely any of the other entries are as vague as this, and that plus some of the frankly bizarre sigils he’s having to draw to summon the damn thing are giving him no comfort. The only remotely comforting thing about it is that the ritual doesn’t require any blood- which either means the entity is benign, or it wants something more valuable than blood. 

…Okay, maybe not that comforting, actually. 

But, before he can consider that maybe this wasn’t his best idea and backing out would be for the best, the sigils flare with light, and Constantine squints to keep track of the way they activate, desperate for any indication of what he’s managed to summon with that stupid book. 

His feet feel feathery against the ground, like they’re barely tethered by gravity and just waiting to float away, and perhaps the seeming lack of atmosphere is fitting with how dust like stars lift from the summoning circle, bringing with them intercepting layers of purple-blue-pink-white, galaxies and nebulae being peeled off the floor. It comes with a sound- something whistling, almost. Seeming hollow, between a shriek and a bell ringing, or maybe more musical than that. It seems to change every moment he tries to focus on it, as if it’s something his ears can’t really hear but his brain is desperate to process, painful to try. 

And then, the entity begins to form. 

Unnoticeably at first, a white glow drifts forming in the centre. It congeals as Constantine’s gaze finally fixates on it, layers forming like jellyfish trails, or flowers, or peacock feathers with runic circles at the tips, fading smaller and smaller as they reach the centre, and a thing akin to a body unfolds into view at the front, a centrepiece. A child’s image of a shadow in opalescence, a strange curving feature where a neck might be, and searing-green spots of varying sizes scattered along the space where cheeks and eyes could’ve been, fading up and down across the lower-half of the ‘face’ and into the ‘hair’. He barely understands what he’s looking at, but maybe that’s the point. 

The sound of a thunderstorm rings across the room, and the curve of the neck unfolds, and it’s an eye, and the tips of a thousand twisted, cosmic peacock feathers become eyes as well, if they weren’t always. They move, wavering, either lashing or flickering from visibility. 

“And what is this?” The voice is a kaleidoscope, echoing off and from every corner of the room, and when they speak, infinite eyes become infinite mouths, too many teeth barely contained by the edges of what seem vaguely like frostbitten lips. To have something even remotely human suddenly etch itself onto the entity is somehow worse than the parts he can’t comprehend. “Who are you, to have summoned me, and seem so afraid?”

Constantine wishes, maybe for the first time, that it hadn’t been an obligation to do this alone; he’s never wanted Batman or one of the Light members with him more than now. It’s a difficult thing, almost impossible, to shake off the speechlessness. It’s a wonder that it’s possible at all, with how the room seems to have been twisted into a vacuum. “I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

“The pits. There are many pits.”

God, this is creepy. “The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. …I heard you can take care of them.”

“I can smell its blood between the gaps of atmosphere, encircling. You, whose soul is bound in so many directions, who may be pulled apart like meat in time- can you sense it? Does it draw you?” John doesn’t know how this- this thing knows that, but he’s scared asking will invoke some kind of consequence, and more and more he’s wondering why the Hell he decided to do Batman this favour. He feels exposed. 

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

“Yes.”

“…Will you fix it?”

The chill is getting to him. Goosebumps are running across his arms like a livewire, and he’s never doing anyone a favour ever again. The entity makes an approximation of a hum, his ears shriek with whale song and stars, and after a pause, everything switching up and down on itself, the peacock eyes form into huge, reaching hands. For a second, Constantine’s whole body freezes with terror, because he’s petrified the thing’s going to grab him, but then the arms tumble phasing into the ground, and the green spots on their ‘face’ flare with a supernova glow and they make another piercing noise, chiming or trilling. 

A long moment later, the hands slowly return to the entity’s back, and fade into the peacock feathers or jellyfish bells or whatever they were before, blinking at him. “It is gone.”

“Uh… cheers?”

“It will not return, but this place shall see its dead for some time. Try not to look.”

This is maybe the worst day of Constantine’s life. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“That is up to you.” They say, and though the eyes that appear briefly between sentences bely or reveal no expression, it feels scrutinising. “What is it that closes doors? Is it alive?”

He hates riddles. He hates riddles and he hates cosmic horrors and he hates eldritch entities and he hates Batman for getting him to agree to this horrible favour. He wants to go back to the House of Mystery and pass out for long enough that this whole thing becomes a dream. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“I know of your Bat.” 

Oh dear. Constantine’s stomach sinks like a shipwreck into the Mariana Trench, but the entity moves on like they’d never even said it. “I will recede, and find you in time, perhaps both. You will know when I am coming, and I will find my recompense.”

And just like that, their whole form shimmers into clouds and pearls and smoke and mirrors, and they fade back into the runes that summoned them like tap water down the drain. The galaxies they’d formulated within the confines of the room fold back in on themselves and turn to whispers and then nothing, but the feeling persists on his skin long after weight has settled back onto his bones. He hadn’t known a thing like that existed until now. He doesn’t know what it can do, doesn’t know how all-encompassing it truly is. 

And he owes it a favour. 

Crap.