my greatest flaw is that i would lowkey ship sokka/azula if i wasn’t so convinced that azula is a lesbian. bc just think about it. they’re both these hyper logical calculating masterminds with debilitating perfectionist complexes to hide their perceived worthlessness, so they’re constantly achieving, and while they never feel any real joy in winning, they get actually suicidal the second they fail at anything. they think everyone who can’t keep up with them is some sort of idiot because they refuse to live in a world where they are in fact more intelligent than most people, including the adults around them. they love making the most insufferable puns you’ve ever heard and get offended if no one laughs. they have daddy issues and mommy issues. they share so many of the things they have wrong with them. so like. just imagine how amazingly awful they would be as a couple. they would indisputably make each other worse , but in the most disastrously entertaining way possible.
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Looking for an hilarious zosan cannonverse, with smut and banter and established relationship?
Look no further bc today's spotlight is a fic with the funniest Sanji pov you will ever read: full of sass and romance (because no matter what front he puts, no matter the allergies or struggles, Sanji can't resist Zoro)
Bonus points for: candid conversations, open vulnerability and sex as a mean to connect with the other.
Read In health (and in sickness) today!
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I've only now noticed Eva Yan's scars on your drawings of her, is there any story or headcanon behind them?
keeping it real babygirl [gender neutral] the story is that this woman canonically kills herself, canonically contemplates suicide, quite explicitly mentioning the method she intents on using to you (with implications that she has, at the very least, thought about it/thought it through before), and lives with broken mirrors so she cannot (/doesn't have to) see her face like i just think She Is Mentally Unwell. like as a long-term, enduring, persistent thing, She Is Mentally Unwell and the plague is just worsening her condition, while it didn't cause it. the storey/headcanon is that she is mentally ill, openly and canonically has self-destructive tendencies, so. the scars are here because she lives with a lil something something in her mind which drives her to plenty of destructive acts in ways big and small. ywkim
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Timeloop au snippet
“We did it,” Nesta murmured, a different quiet entirely than the misty morning rising around them. “We’ll do it again, if we have to.”
Even under the salt-sting, even when she had sea water dripping from her hair, even now, Nesta smelled like fire. Smoke. Memory no mercy at all, home itself unchanging across lives.
Not a bond but a body, a being, Nesta Archeron watching Lucien turn his whole heart over before dawn could even rise, brighter light to her eyes than this whole blazing kingdom they’d brought such acclaim to.
“We will,” Lucien breathed, barely a sound, all he could manage.
She never changed and always changed and was, always-
“Lucien.”
He met her gaze.
Watched, spellbound, as Nesta raised one graceful hand to twist in the torn open collar of his shirt. “Lucien,” she said again, insistent. When he couldn’t find enough air to reply, she shook her head. “I didn’t do for Tarquin. For Summer. For peace.”
She moved like quicksilver.
Like a faery crouched in forest shadows, like liquid moonlight, a predator to whom Lucien’s very hope was prey.
They’d walked together for so many years now it was easy. As though all along it had been this, as they’d been accused so many times. Like Lucien, in fear and hope and heartache had always known he could lean down, and Nesta Archeron would breathe life right back into his lungs.
A tiny tug, to his shirt, just a request.
Just Nesta, curling upright, hand sliding up Lucien’s neck into his hair. An anchor, holding fast. A touch that said nothing but desire.
Lucien leaned down and kissed her.
Salt and sweet wine. Sharp stinging teeth and Nesta’s mouth falling open, plush and welcome. The world righting all at once beneath his feet, entirely familiar. Nesta. Nesta in his arms, twisting sibylline like she couldn’t get enough contact. Nesta, who’d remember this in twenty years or a thousand, real.
Nesta, in his head and his heart and his hands and-
Nesta, in his chest, pulling taut at a rope he’d never known to wind, silver fire and endless light and-
“It’s you,” Lucien breathed.
She was already gone.
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every time someone (or even myself) jokes about the "it's not dead it just went to live at the farm<3" classic lie, I remember the time when I was a kid and my family hid the fact that my grandfather had died for like a whole month by saying he was at the hospital recuperating 😭
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