#yet par for the course

[password-door-lock]

You don't even ask. You're good at not even asking by now— it's second nature, after so many months in this strange place, to just accept things as they come to you. Which is to say that when Unknown throws himself into your bed and throws his arm around you, embracing you sloppily as you lay there on your stomach, you don't breathe a word to him about it. You've got questions, of course— you get the feeling that anybody would end up with those in a situation like this.

For starters, did he just abandon his work to come and lay with you? How did he know that he would find you in his perpetually vacant bedroom? Did he spend an hour looking around Magenta for you, only to discover you here? Or is this not about you at all? Does Unknown even know that you're beside him right now? Has he taken the elixir of salvation? Is he just embracing you for the sake of embracing you? Or is he simply exhausted, too tired to check the bed for another body before collapsing on top of the sheets?

But then again, you know that asking would be futile. For one thing, Unknown is almost definitely already asleep. You've never heard his breathing so even, and you've drifted off with him enough times to know exactly what he's like when he's tired. You don't know much about the world, it's true, but you like to think you know a lot about your boss. After all, your entire job is looking after him, right? So wouldn't it follow that you'd know how to do that job? But whatever. You'll digress, because for another thing,  you're glad that Unknown is here. 

You're glad that you don't have to fall asleep alone. The fact is that you've been laying awake in the dark for no reason, waiting up for him as you try your hardest to drift off. The fact is that now that you've got his arm around you, his protection, the smell of him surrounding you, you feel a lot better and a lot healthier and a lot readier to drift off. The fact is that nothing is what it seems when you're beside this man, and you know that, but sometimes, for your own peace of mind, you simply refuse to accept it. The fact is that he's everything, and you'll keep repeating that a million times over, or a billion times over— the fact is that you love him.

But that's just one more thing that you can never say to Unknown. You don't need him to tell you that he wouldn't take it well, that you're better off just keeping your feelings to yourself, just like you hang onto everything else. “I love you,” you whisper anyway, knowing that you're better off not saying it.

Unknown does not respond. You get the feeling that this is only because he is asleep— otherwise, you're fairly certain that he would be making fun of you like nobody's business. You suppose you wouldn't really be able to blame him for that.

You imagine him kissing you behind the ear. You imagine him pulling you closer. You imagine that even if he knew what you were telling him, even if he were fully present, he would have something sweet and relevant to say about it. You tell yourself that it's just you and Unknown against the world— because it is, because it so is, because Savior be damned, the world revolves around this man— and that everything is going to be okay. You're not sure if you believe that most of the time— when you're sitting on his lap staring at the screen, all you can really see is the pain that he is causing. The pain that this man is causing, this man that you love. And god, and fuck, you love him, you love him, you love him, you love him.

Your heart beats in that rhythm as you continue loving him silently, alone inside your head, even as you embrace him, and it truly does feel as though everything will be okay. You know you're probably wrong, but the scary thing is that you don't really care whether you're correct or not. Somebody could write a dissertation about these heavy, heavy feelings of yours, you suppose, but it's not going to be you— not as you pull Unknown close, not as you nuzzle your face into his neck, not as you love him, silently and intimately and privately and with everything you've got. Holy fucking shit.

[tortoisesshells]

212/276

[transingthoseformers]

Usually, I hate eye contact. I personally believe it's evil and unnecessary.

But Primus i want to see the look in Optimus's optics firsthand when he realizes. Just.

By Primus and the thirteen, I got Megatron pregnant and I have a kid

Oh fucking frag, I got Megatron pregnant

[aboxthecolourofheartache]

it's December 16th, and the Holiday Season Stress Nightmares kicked into high gear last night. What will tonight's theme be, I wonder? Retail? Family? Pandemic? Some version of all three? I'll keep you posted!

[walliswithawhy]

Its the blasted mud that makes me feel most at home. That and the wind. It sets a chill into my bones that reminds me of home. I have been camped within sight of the ruins and by extension, the Stormgate for a good while now. Perhaps I could charge passed this place, inwards and upwards, or if I am very careful, employ a little stealth. I think that I shan’t though, and my reasons are twofold: regarding stealth, well, it’s not a surprise to anyone that subtitly fails to be my strongest point. I blame the armour, but in this place I daren’t go without it. Mayhap if I went in a storm, but that poses as much a hindrance to my perception as it would the guards.

My second reason is by and large the greater reason: I am here to test my mettle, and if it is so fragile as to be squashed here, then I am not fit to undertake this pilgrimage. I will not delude myself into thinking that every foe that I face I will be able to circle wide around. Some will descend upon me unawares, as that horrid thing which first greeted me in this land did, some will simply be inevitable. And if I have learned but a single lesson, then it is that there is merit in facing a fight which cannot be escaped, rather than trying to forestall it. There are some things which much must come to pass.

So I must challenge these guards who stand in my path. I must overcome them, or I am not fit to move on.

My new companion seems deeply unimpressed by this stubbornness, but perhaps I am simply projecting. The beast which was granted to me by the mysterious lady who also offered to be… a guide to me, in exchange for me to be an escort to her (seems odd that she should need one, given her ability to manifest out of thin air and give any poor soul a fright liable to petrify their own heart, but who am I to question the oddness of this place—sometimes I wonder that it is not some grand dream for it feels as disjointed and ethereal as one sometimes) is perfectly intelligent but cannot communicate with me—

(Here there is a smear of charcoal as the if the writer fumbled terribly, followed by a small, darkish red brown stain)

Blasted winged wretches! They’ll be the bane of me yet. The biggest bats I’ve ever seen, and they like to dive in and try to rip my head from my shoulders. Foul things, they’ll think twice when I take their heads off their shoulders.

But I must rest. I challenge a Knight of no middling skill tomorrow. I wonder that I do not see some exasperation in their stance now, when they see me stand in their path. I suppose I would feel much the same if I were to be incessantly pestered by one with such a propensity for weed-like behaviour. But in their ability with a weapon and their brutality they have much to teach me, and I will take every lesson that I am offered if it hones me into a sharper blade.

First

[kandyrezi]

i will say...... aounabara do be kinda handsome though..... (/ω＼)……… (/ω•＼) his dragon form also looks so soft, imagine just falling asleep in that gorgeous, gigantic mass of fluff...

and he'll find a comfortable, secluded place to lay and rest, just for the sake of not disturbing your slumber. very few ever see this tender side of him. aside from the royal court, he rarely shows himself to his own denizens of the sea, keeping a sort of a mystifying aura to surround him, but to most he would appear as aloof and stern.

he seems like the type who would love to show off and impress in any way possible. and it's hard not to be impressed by him; the scintillating glow of stars follows him wherever he goes, when you're on a balcony and it's dark down in the deep-blue sea and you're trying to write a letter or paint or read - the serene, somehow always merry cerulean source of light is always there when you need it.

[sri-rachaa]

[head in hands]

[unproduciblesmackdown]

enjoy some pencil drawings for once

screenshot study and what amounts to a conceptual illustration of a writing idea

[thatfaerieprincess]

I often forget how badly the cold can fuck me up and then one slightly-too-chilly-for-slightly-too-long outing and I’m out of commission for the rest of the damn day…

No outdoor winter job for me I guess

[colognedecigarette]

thinking about beast/ars and how much it disappointed me.

[berry--blonde]

me: i've been feeling the urge to write recently so maybe to get back into it after literal years we should start with some easy and short one shots to get back into the groove, see how it feels

my brain: HOW ABOUT WE FIXATE ON A WEIRD VAMPIRE AU THING THAT WOULD REQUIRE WAY TOO MUCH PLOT AND WORLDBUILDING INSTEAD, HUH????

[badolmen]

I’ve been watching Demon Slayer again. Tanjiro should get a ponytail again. Inosuke has girlboy boygirl vibes I will not elaborate. Zenitsu is a sopping wet paper bag cat of a guy. Nezuko doesn’t actually need to sleep that much she just deserves a break from these idiots.

[koipalm]

ok. the cat ears are in progress

[bansenshukai]

in THEORY i want to do lots of quick sketchy comics that convey maximum story per pen stroke ratio. in practice i have a terrible perfectionist streak that i have still not managed to kill and a deep abiding love for fussy panel layouts. also my handwriting is illegible.

[tacit-semantics]

we need to tear up the carpet in my room I don’t want to do that I have important things to do like get a virus from the most poorly laid out craft instructional website I can find

[primrosebitch]

It's kinda ironic that both of my living grandparents are healthier, have more energy, and less aches and pains than I do, and ones in her late 70s and the other late 80s, like when i go shopping with my grandma she's there using her cane a bit and i'm over here with a walker, and i'm still gonna be the one more tired at the end, and then my other grandma doesn't need any mobility aids and can do some SPORTS, i can't even do sports