#lights will guide you home

[warmcupoflemontea]

[thaliaisalesbian]

Lights will guide you home: And ignite your bones

She doesn’t know how she’s going to think their way out of this one. 

They can’t fight their way out. It’s not possible.

Not when they’d sat down in the first place because of her panic attack; especially not when they’re surrounded on all sides—a whole crowd turned against them in the seconds before they struck.

She’s blinded, again. Blinded with a weapon that won’t do anything against these enemies and a boy who wouldn’t take a chance to escape if she told him to.

She can’t think of a way out.

She knows all the myths, has learned everything she can. That knowledge has kept her alive many times.

That knowledge means nothing in the face of one of her worst traumas; it can’t help her keep her breathing steady.

She’s fought and won wars, but she can’t fight an enemy she can’t hurt. She can’t fight anyone when she can’t stay on her feet.

She hears a sound that’s far too close to bone breaking for her comfort, but the pain never hits her despite the too-tight grip on her wrists.

The metal they wrap around them is slick; coated in something just on the wrong side of too sweet. Innocuous, probably not deadly.

It would be much easier to kill them than to go to all this trouble.

finish on ao3

[unhealthy-amount-of-obsession]

This soundtrack is giving major OC vibes

[its-ener]

Lights will guide you home

-Fix you, Coldplay

Credit- @delicatecreates

[ayumoandlongani]

[sammiknowss]

I don't know if any of you here are following my newest fic - Lights Will Guide you Home, but if you are - update will be tomorrow instead of tonight!!

[hansoeii]

let time pass.

[catstreet]

The burning of the fire symbolizes the life-giving sun. We enjoy its warm light tonight, because from tomorrow, every day becomes a little darker.

[enruiinas]

@climatact asked:

She probably should have called. Or at least sent a text. Nami didn't even know if Law was home, or even in town... but the moment she felt their child's first movement, she was ordering a train ticket. Within hours she was standing in front of his door, unable to bring herself to knock on it. And talking to herself, of all things. "Okay, we got this. It's fine." A hand ran along the small bump, just at that point between barely noticeable under a flowy black dress and jacket. After several minutes, Nami finally found the nerve to knock on the door. All the while she chewed on the inside of her lip nervously. What if he never forgive her for leaving? What if he didn't want to have anything to do with her ever again? She wouldn't blame him if he took one look at her and slammed the door in her face.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Two hours and elbows-deep into a total laparoscopic renal bypass, nearing the end of of what had felt like one of the longer shifts of his surgical residency career a few blocks uptown, it would be several hours later before Law would know anything of the unexpected arrival of an orange-haired woman on his apartment doorstep.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Several hours before months of the desperate habit he'd formed in her absence proved themselves a good decision despite every long minute spent wondering why he was wasting his time writing those notes out. Every day, the same brief sentiment - Mikans in the kitchen for you. Your things are in the top right-hand drawer. Back soon. The only thing that changed were the hours scrawled at the top of the folded sheets of paper. Each time he left, whether on shift or out to run an errand, the note would be replaced with a new one, tucked beneath a loose brick near his apartment door along with the spare key he'd once told her about.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Several hours before he'd trudge his weary way past that very hiding spot, not bothering to check and confirm what part of him had long suspected would always be the case. The note and key would still be there: they always were. But they'd be there when he went to swap the sheet out in the morning, and at the end of a shift, the last thing he wanted was a reminder that another day had passed without her. He would face that in the morning, when he was on his way out and there was no choice but to get in his car and to keep on going. He'd learned that lesson the hard way - suffered one too many hangovers on shift the next day after checking on his way in in the evenings. Long hours of nights spent alone were not the time to think of the futility of it all; other than the disappointment, he knew if he thought about it too long on his own, he would eventually have to come to terms with reality and he knew he'd stop writing them.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ And when that time came - when he truly gave up on her... What was he supposed to do, then?

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ So, no. Law did not check to see if note or key had been disturbed in his absence. He strolled determinedly past it, the two bags of groceries he'd stopped to procure on his way home tucked under one arm as he fished in his pocket and slotted the key into the lock to let himself in. He didn't let himself think about the night he'd spend on his own tonight, or how he'd realize, as he always did, how quiet the space seemed when he laid his head down on his pillow a few hours later. These things would creep up on him as they always did, but he wouldn't give them a second of his attention until they were upon him. Every day, it was the same routine: get through the door, drop the keys on the counter on his way through to the kitchen, put the groceries away on nights he'd had to stop by the little corner market. A shower to rinse the day away, the water warm to soothe the aches that followed long shifts on his feet and hands that ached from hours of operations. Dinner: usually what he'd stopped to pick up on the way home; sometimes something he'd bothered to put together for himself - occasionally leftovers from something a friend or coworker had prepared for him for the week. Depending on how late it had gotten, he might read or turn the TV on and unwind as he scrolled through his notifications to see if he'd missed anything eventful throughout the day. More often than not, this was where the thoughts would find him. Somewhere along the way, he'd grown to favor early nights, though sleep rarely came easily or lasted long despite his best efforts.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ It was routine. Methodical. Habit. It had to be; that was what he'd clung to in the months since he'd awoken to the empty space beside him. Variation on that routine was highly inadvisable and never resulted in anything good. And it was for that reason that Law didn't notice anything was amiss until he was setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. It took a moment to place the strange feeling that crept over him - that sense that he'd missed a step in this rotation, but couldn't quite place what that step had been. Because it was one of the small things - the filler between those big steps he'd learned to focus on. He'd come through the door. Set his keys on the counter. Was moving to put the groceries away.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ What he hadn't done was turn the kitchen light on. Or the hallway light, for that matter. One by itself, he might not have thought of; methodic as he was, even Law forgot to turn a light off here and there. Two was unlikely. Three was unheard of.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Especially considering, as a glance at his surroundings revealed, the third light was the living room light. He didn't even bother turning that one on in the mornings; he certainly hadn't left it on that morning.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Law's pulse had grown suddenly deafening in his ears, his heart lodged somewhere in the general vicinity of his throat. The groceries lie forgotten on the counter behind him, for before he'd even realized what he was doing, the doctor found himself moving numbly through the open-floored apartment, turning the corner until the living room came into view in its entirety - coffee table, dark-screened TV, couch, and the woman asleep upon it.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ A woman he'd never thought he would see again and never stopped hoping might one day be there waiting for him.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ His breath caught in his throat.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Either Nami had come back for him, or this was both a dream and the cruelest trick the universe had ever played on him.

 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Law froze on the threshold.

[checkadii]

mfs do anything but finish their wips . like startign another, for example

[thaliaisalesbian]

Lights will guide you home

Chapter 3: if you never try you never know

Despite the lists of symptoms Percy and Annabeth have, so far none of the tests have come back with anything. 

“Once we get your blood work back, there may be something there that tells us more.” Percy should probably feel a little bad about not remembering this doctor’s name, but he can’t. They’ve seen so many doctors in the past few days, and none of them know anything.

None of them have been any help at all.

He’s surprised, though, that they’ve gotten in as quickly as they have. Whether it’s because they helped save the world, or because they remember him, or even just because they don’t have a lot of patients, he’s not sure.

But he’s not naïve enough to believe that this is something that’s just going to go away on its own; not when he and Annabeth have been exhibiting the same symptoms for months now. 

“When can we expect those back? We’ve had several other tests done, and none of those have come back with anything.” Annabeth has her folder with her; she has copies of both their charts in there.

“Within the next few days. I can’t tell you much else now. I suggest you abstain from training for the next few days, eat well, and get lots of rest.” The doctor opens the blinds on the external window, like the late afternoon sun will help them feel better.

The reason they’ve had all afternoon appointments is because Annabeth is sleeping in later and later each week. She’s more tired than Percy has ever seen her.

He wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how.

Training’s out of the question for both of them. He’s not as out of sorts as Annabeth is, not yet.

It’s only a matter of time.

“I think it’s poison.” Annabeth tells him, but only once they’re alone. Only once they’re in the little apartment that Reyna showed them to when they arrived. She’d brought it up before their first appointment, and he knows she’s been thinking about it since. But when she asked the first doctor about it, the question had been waved off. It’s not any different when Percy’s mentioned it, so they just stopped trying. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Maybe it’ll show up then.”

“It was in the food, Percy. It has to be.”

He thinks she’s right. Because it’s hit her much faster, and much harder, than it’s hit him. And she had regular meals, and he was hardly fed anything.

It makes sense.

Too much sense.

If they don’t find anything, Percy doesn’t know what they’re going to do. Because they can’t exactly go back to their captors -- they still don’t know why they were taken, or who it was, because Chiron still won’t tell them anything -- and ask for an antidote.

“They can’t get us here.” At least, mortals can’t.

The longer this goes on, the more he wants to go and make Chiron give them the answers they need.

Before it’s too late.

Before whatever this is takes enough of Annabeth that she’s not able to keep going anymore. 

“Percy, let’s go to the beach tonight. Watch the sunset. IM your mom and camp. I know we don’t actually have any news to share, but I think we need to.”

“Sounds good. Should we bring dinner?” And change plans on Hazel and Frank, but somehow he doesn’t think they’ll mind too much. They can join them on the beach if they want.

“Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“I’ll get something together then.” Percy’s been doing most of their cooking lately, but it’s been nice, actually.

It feels normal. Something he’d be doing in a year or so if he were mortal; moving out for the first time and learning to fend for himself.

He IMs Hazel quickly—she’s less likely to be in the middle of training than Frank is—and tells her about the change in plans. 

Annabeth naps on the couch while he cooks; while the chicken casserole is in the oven, he finger-combs and braids her hair for her.

She’d tried to braid it the other day, only to discover that if she had her arms up for too long, they started shaking. She hadn’t even gotten halfway done, and she’d been about ready to cry from frustration.

He’d never wish the seizures and injections on her, but he does wish that he could take this instead. She’s not vocalizing it, but Percy knows her. She’s harder on herself than anyone else, and between the dizzy spells and the exhaustion, she can’t even think straight most days.

Let alone think through everything this could be, and she’s still probably dead on.

He’d been thinking maybe they had injected her, while she was out. That would make sense, too. Just because she wouldn’t remember it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

But then he’d probably be worse off than she is.

And she would have seized, probably.

As far as they know, she didn’t.

If the blood tests come back with nothing, Percy’s going to take Clarisse up on her offer to force Chiron to talk to them.

Gods know he wouldn’t be able to handle it himself right now.

finish on ao3

[moo-blogging]

Late night short thought #121:

You are a huge bookworm and you have a private collection of random books in all genres in the house. Levi had built you 2 bookshelves in different designs because you couldn't decide on one. He even allowed you to pick a few carpets for the reading corner he made for you. And, of course, Levi showers you with love by buying you books.

Levi would write love notes for you on the first page of each book he bought for you. He would ensure yours and his name were on the book. And your favourite love letter from him is:

"Even after we die, someone who got your books in the future will know that you were deeply loved by me. And our love will continue for eternity until the last book disappeared. ~Levi A. to Y/N A."

[baeshijima]

since maintenance has (i think…?) started . . .

MAY ALL ROBIN WANTERS (me) BE ROBIN HAVERS (me) !!!

MAY ALL TOPAZ WANTERS BE TOPAZ HAVERS !!!

MAY ALL BOOTHILL WANTERS BE BOOTHILL HAVERS !!!

MAY ALL FU XUAN WANTERS BE FU XUAN HAVERS !!!

HAPPY 2.2 AND ROBIN ALBUM SOON RELEASE EVERYONE 🥹🥹

[best-titan-7274]

in which jack continues to be a bit fucked up emotionally

“It’s okay,” Jack says. His voice shakes. His hands do too, but he can curl them into fists, try to feel like he’s not losing his grip, even as his nails, bitten short as they are, dig crescents into his palm. “It’s just a dream, I’ll be okay.” 

He says it to himself, as much as he says it to BT. Trying to convince them both. It’s not working on him, so he doubts it’s working on BT. 

“Your vitals are elevated,” BT says. 

“I know.” 

“I can call for medical assistance. I believe protocol requires it.” 

“No, don’t do that,” Jack hisses at him. 

There’s silence, besides his own panting breaths and pounding heart. Gradually, both things slow, until he feels… well, he can’t say he feels normal. But he feels empty and stretched, instead of vibrating with panic, and right now, he’s all right with that. 

“Pilot– Jack– are you all right?” 

He swears he hears Lastimosa’s voice in BT’s. 

He sits up, and lets out a breath, and slumps back down. Nobody can hear him in the cockpit, so it’s safe to talk. But no matter how much he knows that, it doesn’t feel right, he can’t just dump all this on BT without permission. It would be rude. It would… it would show how bad he really is. 

“Jack?” 

“I thought I wouldn’t be scared any more with you back, but I keep thinking of how easy it was to lose you the first time.” 

The words come out in a rush, and he scuffs his wrist across his cheek. He’s not sure if he’s crying from stress or shame or both or neither – but he’d give anything to make it stop. His body doesn’t listen to him. Guess it’s just that kind of night.