#celestial aftermath

[apphiarothowrites]

Playing into Marco being a romantic let’s go with a different theme

A correspondence shall we say, anonymous of course between the revolutionary army and wbp.

The blue gentleman is odd exciting, he taunts and teases between paragraphs, punctuating with perfect prose. It’s stupid and silly and by god Marco is way too old to be keeping all these letter and rereading them like a love struck fool. Because he’s not, obviously. It’s just the prospect of matching wits with someone is.. exciting. The letters, the writing it’s all part of the game. Secrets and lies.

There’s no billowed shirt man, no fair maiden..

The letter ends,

Yours,

Blue.

Marco can feel his face heat up and he curses quietly. He is literally grasping at straws here, if you counts rolled up letters as straws. And yet in his minds eye a phantom smiles with a sharp grin.

Catch me if you can mr Holmes

(This is before ace arrives, whaddya whaddya you get where I’m going with this, kisses and all that. May you be given shelter from the hell of a 40 hr work week)

The news coo never has an address to take the letters to, but they somehow know anyway.

The letters that arrive for Dragon's chief of staff are all the same stationary and always sealed with an unmarked wax blob. The signature at the bottom is a bird claw without a name.

My Blue Gentleman, the letters always start-

As a child of the sea, roaming and rambling is in my blood. First and foremost, 'settling down' is as foreign to me as I'm sure it is to you given how many ports of origin your letters have found me with on their address labels. Your attitude can certainly make a man wonder, though, what it would take to have a home island.

But I suppose we must all have a place we started? I assume, as secretive as you are, you'll merely tease me with a hint or insinuation instead of telling me outright despite how much I'd wish you would. So, in the spirit of beginnings, I'll tell you of mine. I was born on an island in the calm belt that doesn't exist any more. I am told I was supposed to be a slave but I honestly barely remember much of my life from then, only that my first years of life were generally unremarkable. I remember watching the sea and a great thunderous event that made me think the world was ending, and then I remember meeting my father.

He isn't my father by blood, but he is my father in all ways that matter. He found me after the event that shook the island and took me with him when he left. He is my captain and the man who gave me the wings with which I soar today. He is the man I will follow to my death and to whom I owe everything. But aren't all fathers supposed to be that way? Supportive, inspiring saviors to guide you in life?

Do you have a father, Blue Gentleman? Do you have a beginning, a place you started?

Don't go thinking I haven't noticed you don't much refer to your past. Forgive me if I'm pushing too hard, too soon. For pushing at all. I can't help my curiosity, I see something shiny and exciting and I can't help myself wanting to peck at it until I know every turn and facet of it's existence. It makes me an excellent doctor and an excellent hand to my father on this ship. And I've always had a soft spot for the color blue. But I know it's invasive and discomforting to receive such treatment.

Yours,

\|/ | '

#AR writes #letters between friends or maybe more #raccooon once again on that good shit #I love letter writing AUs I just don't get the chance to write them often #and I'm running with an idea that marco was a child slave for celestial dragons in god valley and WB found him in the aftermath of the figh #just like how roger found shanks lmfao

[yellow-faerie]

In typical fashion for me, I have fallen into AU hell for Doctor Who and I am really living it up over here

#this is me begging someone to ask me about one of them #i would write them but they always ramble away from me #read: my bad wolf rewrite fic of pretty much everythibg and also my modern/human au fic #which features all the incarnations of the Doctor #a fifth doctor au where Adric Nyssa and Tegan are all like 8-12 and it Isn't Fluffy #there's also a Deca fic au I came up with where Theta ends up in the Celestial Toymaker's domain alone and doesn't return #and the aftermath of that #and a fifth doctor era au where Adric Nyssa and Tegan are like 8 - 12 #and the doctor manages to not be a father to any of them #like unironically everyone keeps assuming it and he's like... I'm desperately trying to get these people somewhere safe #when Turlough turns up he's like exactky the same and is like...those are children #and the doctor is like...I am *trying* to get rid of them...to varying degrees of annoyance from the three of them #there's also an au I have where the creation of Jenny goes wrong and she's a very weird child #and also that that episode happens near the beginning of series 2 #also the experiment au and the sibling au two human aus that focus on various incarnations of the doctor #my brain does not stop thinking up these things #Doctor Who #Fae Rambles Into The Void

[friendlylifecherry]

Lucifer: You can't just lie to him forever.

Michael: Easy for you to say, Mr. "Teen Mom," may I remind you of just how much Satan absolutely hates your guts? I don't want Luke to hate me for it.

Lucifer: He will hate you when he finds out that you've been lying to him about his birth for his whole life.

Michael: Well, what in Father's name should I tell him?! "Hey, kiddo, guess what? You weren't actually created by Father like every other angel. You're actually the embodiment of everything I HATE ABOUT MYSELF!!!"

Luke: *hic*

(Michael and Lucifer whip around)

Michael: Luke?! Oh no, you weren't supposed to hear that, I can explain, ok, just please don't cry.

Luke: *sobs and runs off*

Michael: Luke!!! *goes chasing after him as Lucifer follows*

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me luke #obey me michael #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #based on this idea that Luke is Michael's Satan #ie born of his shitton of grief and self-loathing in the aftermath of the Celestial war #not even Luke knows of this #and until now Michael was never going to tell him #because what do you even tell Luke in that situation? #that doesn't end as badly as the actual way it did?

[mecharlie-fox]

Obey Me: The Aftermath of the Great Celestial War, How Many Seconds in Eternity?

A life this long is a battlefield. A large battlefield – an empty battlefield. Because everyone else, they’re gone.

They’re all gone.

That was the tragedy of an angel named Evangeline. Every name Father chose for his children was a promise. As Lucifer was promised to be the light bringer Michael was promised to be the gift from God, Evangeline was the promise of the gospel – the promise of good news.

Father often knows more than what any living being does in all the three realms. Beings like them were old enough to know that a longer life isn’t always a better one.

It’s easy to believe that time doesn’t pass. The passage of time is an illusion, and life is the magician. Immortality isn’t living forever, young ones. That’s not what it feels like. Immortality is everybody else dying. They’re all dead.

Eva walked through the corridors of their household, a corridor that was once buzzling and loud, filled with cries of happy frustrations, cries, and even laughter. Now she was hearing nothing but silence. She never knew that silence could be so… louder than anything else in the realms combined.

For a large house – it was suffocating for two angels who barely even see each other for a couple of decades. It wasn’t easy, outliving the people they loved. When they died, a part of her died with them. Pain and loss – that defines them as much as happiness and love.

They are ancient creatures. A good death is what all mortals could ever hope for, unless they’re immortal. How many seconds is eternity? Truly?

The hole that they left, she felt it. Every single ounce of it.

And she had to live with that.

“We all carry our prisons with us.” Eva mumbled to herself as she felt the warm wind, holding a silver pocket watch in her hands. Even after a century, she could still hear the screams – it was more than she could count.

“Found you.” Eva turned to where the voice came from, only to feel a finger touching her cheek. She looked up to find Simeon giving a warm smile. “Are you in prayer?”

“No,” Eva answered quietly as she looked at the monument in front of her. A monument surrounded by flowers and pictures of those who have fallen, “I finished my prayers hours ago.”

“May I?”

“Of course.”

Simeon sat down, observing the angel who was staring at the monument of the angels who have died during the Great Celestial War. Those once bright, calm, and joyous blue eyes were filled with nothing but sadness, grief, and loneliness. “Coin for your thoughts, Eva?”

Eva was quiet for a moment.

Simeon was a Seraphim – he knew her schedule day in and day out, just like the rest. He knew that she was down there, wandering along with mortals but never mingled with them. Even when Father heavily forbidden most of their kind – a few were given a chance to go down there to perform their divine duties.

As a Power, as an Authority – Evangeline was one of those few angels who had the privilege to do so. Even when it irks her.

“I… heard something interesting from a human during my last visit.” She answered quietly. Her hands still… fidgeting on the pocket watch.

“What did this human say?”

“He said that humans die twice.” Eva looked up to the Seraphim, as if she was looking for a reaction… an answer to many of her questions. Centuries of living – all these questions but even Father could not provide those answers when she needed it, “he said… once when our breathe leaves our body… and once when the last person we know says our name. What is it like?” She finally asked him. “What is it like to die, Simeon?”

Simeon gently placed his hand onto hers, “only those who have died would know.”

Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knew it like the Powers. Sometimes Eva thinks that angels live too long. She couldn’t recall how long Simeon held her hand from the memorial. He was bringing her home, her hand in his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Eva didn’t know if Simeon cursed the silence or had learned how to embrace it. She always noted that unlike her brother, Simeon was careful around her. He was choosing his words before saying them, he was choosing when needs to be soft spoken and when he needs to tell her the harsher truths of life. She couldn’t read Seraphim – he was more… complicated to read compared to the rest.

Even Lucifer was easier to read compared to him.

Simeon smiles but it never reaches his eyes. But his hand was always warm, as if he was comforting her in his own quiet way. Even she and her brother couldn’t see each other eye to eye ever since the war.

She believes that none of them understand. That no one would ever understand.

But he did.

Simeon understood every ounce of pain she was going through. The lost of loved ones, the loss of her brethren in combat – he knows that she was always thinking about the day she did it. The day she killed many of their brothers and sisters in a war no one asked for.

The Seraphim wanted to ask his former brother, considering all the causalities, all the pain that was caused – was it all worth it?

The brave and noble Sister Evangeline, she never thought she’d find herself so alone in a world where the sun never sets and yet it feels so dark all the same.

#obey me #obey me oc #obey me simeon #the aftermath of the great celestial war #this is like 500 years after the war #Eva kinda has survivors guilt #angels in the position of power have burdens like this too #I know I wrote he sat down but in a creative aspect #him trying to fix her messed up hair makes more sense to me #since Eva has been a complete mess since the war #so it kinda shows in her hair #this is like a test for this fic ive been working on sooo yeah

[masters-menagerie]

Soft footfalls would alert Ghost to someone's arrival behind him. Moonfall, in armor, was watching him carefully amidst the debris he'd left in his wake.

She didn't seem scared, but she was cautious, and perhaps concerned.

"...Hey. You okay?"

@dsn-001

Ghost nearly whipped around and aimed his buster right at her. But thankfully for the both of them, he'd seen her form in the corner of his eye as he was turning around.

"...'m fine..." Came a slurred reply from behind his helmet. "Jus' relieving stress."

He may or may not have had a couple more drinks since he started.

#(( no one give this man alcohol when he's in a shit mood ever again )) #answered ask #celestial (moon) #ghost of the past (mmx blues) #drinking game aftermath

[critterbitter]

A trip down memory lane! Though the tower seems to have changed…

Celestial tower! Built during the direct aftermath of the Founding Unovan Civil War, it remains a cultural landmark in memory of those lost in the fire and storm.

Time has dulled the scars left behind by the twin dragons. Today, the tower is primarily used as a mausoleum (the preferred method of burial are urns) and, well, a tourism site. Legend says if you climb to the top of the tower and ring the bell, you can lay your ghosts to rest. But mostly? You can ring a GIANT bell.

Course, you gotta GET to that bell first.

Masterpost for more pokemon shenanigans here!

#my love of old backrooms esque buildings once again crawls into the forefront #celestial tower #now that’s a fun name! #sounds similar to… say… celestica #maybe even celestica ruins #but bah! lets talk about the funny patrat kids forgetting to explain to their pachirisu friend just where they’re scurrying to #elesa really just said: weird architecture! seems familiar! #meanwhile ingo and litwick are verbally sparring and emmet’s desperately trying to make sure they dont get lost #(spoilers they get lost) #pokemon #art #sketchbook #myart #submas #fanart #pokemon ingo #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #pokemon emmet #gym leader elesa #pokemon elesa #litwick #tynamo #blitzle #nimbasa trio #anyways stairs are nightmarish all my homies hate stairs

[pillowspace]

Celestial Sundown AU Moon

He is the god of night, and a guardian to children. This AU is based on a dream I had awhile back. I've finally DESIGNED him !!! I can rest easy now

Sun, god of day

(NOTE: spoilers ahead for people coming from the fic)

---

After multiple children were sacrificed in his name for the request of aid (the interpretations of Sun and Moon vary from culture to culture, so in that particular culture, Moon was more known for having a detached liking rather than protectiveness), Moon slaughtered the entire town responsible, a town which had temples for varying gods and, therefore, held favour from the Celestial Realm. It was his final strike, and his right to travel to the Mortal Realm was officially revoked.

(You found the town's frightening aftermath while passing through when you were younger, but you and Moon did not cross paths.)

Moon now solely resides in the Celestial Realm, where Sun keeps him company and frequently brings him trinkets from the Mortal Realm to keep him from getting bored. Though while it mildly helps, Moon still feels aimless with his guardian role now obsolete.

Moon can turn any music he plays hypnotic, but the trance is not unbreakable. He can also blend into any dark space he wants by wrapping his clouds around himself. Both Moon and Sun can dismiss their clouds at will.

#pillowspace art #celestial sundown au #dca au #moondrop #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #moon fnaf #fnafsb #fnaf security breach #fnaf au #fnaf sun #sundrop #sun fnaf #artfave #[csd art tag]

[yandere-wishes]

𝐼𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝓎𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓂𝑒

Summary: Miles is the villain. You are the hero. You two shouldn't be in love...

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, afab!reader, canon typical Marvel violence. the reader is an undefined hero (but you can think of them as Spidergirl). No NSFW but both reader and Miles are 18+

Part #2 (The Perfect Girl)

part#3 (The Spider's Web)

There's something about the New York nights, that leaves a faint melancholy glow across Miles's soul. 

Some vanquished feeling that humbles him as the stars and moon look down laughing. Celestial bodies that mock him for every sin he's ever committed. Howling at the blood that drips from the edge of his claws. 

Miles never thought he was an insomniac. It just so happened that most of his life and routine took place in the dead of night. It had all been a coincidence until he met you. Now he's not sure if it's bad habits or sheer serendipity. All he knows is that he needs to see your face before the night comes to an end. 

He hadn't really met you. Not in the traditional sense at least. He'd been sent to kill you. An initiation from the sinister six. Back then he'd thought you were just another sanctimonious fool who was trying to play the role of the righteous hero. There had been many like you before. foolish and virtuous. All were left dead in some ally by daybreak. And yet when you'd landed punch after punch to his ribs. Your body slam caused him to spew blood from behind his mask. You were a tough bug to squish he'd give you that much.

Miles hadn't fallen in love with you that night. Nor the nights after that. 

It wasn't love the first time your web dagger nearly missed his heart.

It wasn't love when he had you pinned between his body and the cold street concrete, as you tried to pry off his mask to gouge out his eyes. 

It wasn't love when he'd shattered the bones in your leg and you'd been out of commission for a week.

It wasn't love when the two of you lay bleeding on a rooftop. Delusional enough from all the blood loss to try and trace constellations in the polluted night sky.

It wasn't love when you'd returned to that same rooftop the next week to beat him up. And he'd managed to lay a nasty blow to your face. 

It hadn't been love all those times. Yet all he knows is that somewhere along the lines Miles Morales had fallen in love with the new hero in town. 

He knows you're coming 

Senses your presence right as one of the sinister six's weapon cartels blows up in the distance. You never were one to be caught in the aftermath. Ever the dramatic sweetheart, who didn't like to get her hands dirty. 

He waits for the telltale sign of your feet hitting the rooftop to turn around. Mask on and heart on his sleeve. "Prowler" you greet, courteous as always. "Hey," he responds. Solid and simple and overflowing with every emotion he wishes he could spill at your feet. 

His eyes roam over your suit. Modest and girly, all things you wouldn't expect from New York's only superhero. You look like a doll. All porcelain and ivory. How you've survived so long in this city is beyond him. 

There's something wrong with you. Something Miles just can't put his finger on. Every time he looks at you it's like looking into a broken mirror. You're Disfigured, mangled, damaged. Yet all he sees in those shattered shards is the face of the boy he once thought he'd be. 

You're the light of New York. The one that promises to save this nightmare of a city. Made up of frilly bows and dreams to big to keep locked up in your head. The rage of the city, of the civilians boils through your blood. 

He's the Prowler. A boy born with rebellion in his bones and violence in his veins. A broken heart and a broken soul stitched together with barbwire and cheap glue. He's the sinister six's newest protege and uncle Aaron’s last hope. 

He's the villain and you're the hero. You shouldn't be in love. 

You skip across the rooftop, arms locked behind your back and spinning when it takes your fancy. You've long since shed any fear you may have once held for him. Standing on your tip toes you rest your chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha looking at?" you ask, with a voice filled with daisies and the summer breeze. "Pieces for my new suit were in the warehouse you just blew up." Oh how Miles wishes he could throw you over the edge. Watch you fall to your death. Maybe then you'd stop plaguing his every thought. 

"Sorry, Prowler just doing my job." You sound so carefree, it almost reminds him of how he used to be when his dad had still been alive. "You're an insufferable little insect, you know that?" He feels you smile  from under your silk mask."I try" 

You're not meant to be the hero. He knows this in his bones. You're too naive and soft-hearted to deal with the terrors of this city. More than anything else Miles Just wants to drag you away. To lock you up somewhere. Somewhere only he knows. A home where the burdens and terrors of this world can't find either of you. A place where you two can finally become one. 

 But you're not him and he's not you. All this is just a puppy dog crush. And puppy love is for baby-faced boys who didn't watch the life drain from their father's eyes. It's for sweet boys who didn't have their first kill at ten years old. 

"what's it like being the hero?" Miles asks, eyes glazing over the stars, staring straight at destiny. Who chose their roles anyway? Who made him the monster carved from rage and pain? Who painted you as the Guardian angel in gold? Why couldn't he be the hero?

You don't respond. Breath hitching and for a second Miles thinks he's hit a nerve. No one ever said doing the right thing was easy. He wonders if you claw away at your own soul. Peeling off your flesh each night to replace it with a silk suit and copper-tainted values. 

He imagines you throwing cheap knives at the night sky, watching as God's light deflects them back into your heart. 

You walk over to the edge of the roof and sit down. And for the first time ever Miles thinks he sees you for who you really are. Actually sees you. A kid with the weight of the world on their shoulders. An onomatopoeia of breaking glass and the cheers of the cities oppressed. 

"They're coming for me, Prowler." You pull your knees to your chest. Eyes looking over the city skyline. "I don't mind. I knew what I was getting into...It's just."

"Just what" his voice reverberates through his mask, he's grateful the metal and digital layers keep the  anxiety from seeping through.

"I just never thought I'd die this way" There's a smile in your voice. A  final giggle before an impending war. Miles takes a step back. Head heavy as the weight of your words crash down on him. "I saw Venom lurking through my apartment before I came here. They found me, I think they plan to strike tonight." 

He wishes he could tear this city apart, break its seams, and rapture its pillars. He can't let you die. He just can't. With a forceful tug on your shoulder he turns you his way. Mask slipping away as he slides his finger under your silk facade as he pulls it away. 

Miles's lips capture yours. As he kisses the dying stars trapped under your tongue and behind your teeth. His lips trail down your neck as he kisses the fatigue from your bones. Metal claws clutched tightly around you as if you may decay if he lets go. 

Sometimes he wants to dismantle his ribcage, piece by piece. Pickaway at the ribs and offer you his blackened heart on a silver platter. It's not his fault that he fell in love with the girl stitched together from radioactive spider bites and misplaced nightmares. 

every time Miles sees you he feels a certain feeling like the world turned upside down. Like he woke up fundamentally broken with no way to piece himself back. 

His claws trace up, gliding past your shoulders' to your neck. You don't refuse him, feeling safe for the first time since you dawned your mask and made your vows. You let him touch your neck as your naivety shines through. He won't hurt me, you think. But oh, how wrong you are. 

Miles wraps his fingers around your neck. Squeezing and squeezing as he watches you claw at metal. You look so beautiful suspended over the edge like this. There's something about being half awake and half asleep and half dead and half alive that makes you glow. He wants to say something along the lines of 'I love you'. He doubts you're conscious enough to hear him.

You're not his, not exactly. But Miles can't bear to let anyone else lay claim to you. It's a sickness he knows. But he'd rather be sick than lose you.

He'll keep you safe, he swears it. By the time you awaken, he'll have found somewhere safe for the two of you to hideout until he can convince his "mentors" to spare your life. It'll be fine, It has to be, after all...

He's Miles Morales, the Prowler

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse #atsv x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #atsv #miles morales x you #yandere miles morales #yandere spiderverse #miles morales fanfiction #42 miles morales #yancore #yandere x read #yandere earth 42 miles morales #across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles fluff #yandere 42 miles #prowler miles #miles morales prowler #spiderman x reader #yandere marvel #marvel x reader #marvel #yandere scenarios #yandere oneshot #yandere imagines #yandere x you #spiderverse spoilers

[itsswritten]

when the sea calls for three | intro

Paring: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: In the aftermath of war, peace reigns over the realms of Prythian, but the delicate balance hangs in the hands of two unlikely mediators—You and Lucien. As the newly appointed Emissaries of Peace, your duty is clear: maintain alliances, foster understanding between courts, and navigate the intricate webs of fae politics.

But when fate deals an unexpected twist, revealing that you possess not one, but two mates, the tranquillity you've worked so hard to uphold is suddenly threatened. Caught between two males who refuse to share, you find yourself thrust into a precarious position, torn between duty and desire.

What will you do and who will you choose?

I need you.

Those three words were all it took.

༄ 

In the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the room, flickering reflections of pinks and purples across the walls. Dawn Court had always been radiant, the sky, cobalt and rose. A sunrise all day long. You were proud to call it your home. 

You stood before the ornate mirror, fingers delicately adjusting the intricate buttons of your tunic. 

The decision to choose neutral clothing had been yours, a deliberate choice born from the realisation of what your new role weighed. You were to be a mediator, a peacekeeper, it only seemed fitting to don a uniform that symbolised your neutrality and dedication to maintaining balance among the realms.

The fabric shimmered with a subtle elegance, adorned with delicate motifs that whispered of the courts you now served. The tapestry of symbolism spoke something that words could not, of a new beginning, a new chapter– a time of peace.

The design along the back of your tunic, three majestic mountains rose proudly, their peaks reaching towards the heavens. Behind them, the sun emerged, casting its golden rays that spread warmth and light– a nod to your home.

In the left above, a fully fleshed sun beamed down upon the mountains, radiating its brilliance and vitality. To the right, three stars and a crescent moon were sewn with meticulous care, representing the rest of the solar courts and their celestial splendour.

On your left sleeve, leaves were hand stitched along your cuff,  bronze thread danced in a graceful swirl, climbing upwards towards your elbow, mirroring the silver icy shards that adorned the right sleeve. Autumn and Winter in perfect harmony. 

Around your collar, a delicate pattern of vines and roses intertwined, symbolising the beauty and vitality of the Spring Court's bloom. And along the trimmings of the tunic's bottom, waves swirled in a mesmerising dance, evoking the Summer Court's boundless energy and fluidity.

Your tunic jacket cascaded gracefully, halting just at your hips, while beneath it, a long, flowing cream pleated skirt billowed elegantly to the floor. With your hair initially draping freely, you gently pulled it forward, ensuring the intricate details adorning the back of your tunic were given their rightful moment to shine.

As you smoothed the fabric, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the role you had been given. Playing a bridge between courts, and worlds. A mediator between the people. 

Politics had never really been something you relished in, but you were good with people, and good with your words. Qualities that your friend desperately convinced you, were integral to this role.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your reverie, and you turned to see Lucien, your friend, standing in the doorway. His mechanical eye wiring at the sight of you. He was wearing a similar tunic, one that was longer on his body but mirrored the designs of your own.

It was Lucien who had told you he needed you. 

I need you.

He had written to you one evening. His correspondences were usually lighthearted and filled with friendly banter, but this weighed heavily in a way that was so unlike him.

“I could really use your help.” Lucien had breathed, when you came to visit after his letter.

I need you. I need my friend. I need someone to lean on. I need someone to laugh with. It’s been too long. I miss you. 

Was what you heard. His message had been simple yet poignant, a plea for assistance and companionship.

You had always had a way with words and sounds. Understanding the gaps in between the breaths, the underlying emotions and intentions woven into each syllable. Most didn't realise what could be revealed in their words. How the octaves and melodic tones of their tongues sung of unspoken truths.

Lucien and you had shared a friendship that spanned many years, reaching back to your earliest memories of childhood. As children and teens, you had been inseparable, playmates in a time that now felt like a distant memory. However, when borders grew stricter and tensions mounted, those days were abruptly halted.

It wasn't until the dark days of Amarantha's reign that fate brought you back together, through the intervention of Nuan, a mutual friend. She was a skilled Alchemist of your court, who had aided Lucein in his healing, crafting his beautiful golden eye. And because he was no longer a part of Autumn, you were able to reconnect and your friendship flourished, even if it was predominantly through ink and parchment.

"Ready to face them?" he asked with a tight smile, his voice carrying a note of anticipation.

I’m nervous. Is what you heard under his words.

You returned his smile with a nod, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Of course, I was born ready Lucie” you replied, effortlessly flicking his nickname with a casual ease. 

Despite having a smart mouth now, Lucien was a name you often got tongue-tied in your younger years. Lucie had been a much easier sound to make, and you didn’t hesitate to use the endearing name when wanting to tease.

Lucien rolled his eyes, but your casual demeanour softened the nerves that had laced his previous words. That had been your intention.

Just one example of how your intuition always left you saying the right thing. Of course there were times this didn’t happen, but those occasions were extremely rare.

“We should decide which courts reside under our care before the meeting” Lucien began, striding in front of the mirror to adjust his own tunic. “And I have to say you’ve made more progress with Tamlin these past two months than I have in the past year," Lucien breathed, a hint of admiration in his voice while he smiled at you through the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "What, like it was hard?"

Tamlin's stubbornness had been a challenge, but your natural charisma and persuasion had proven effective in bridging the gap between his court and the others. His residents had at least started returning home, and thanks to your work, there was actually something for them to return to.

You huffed, before turning your friend around, pulling at his collar to adjust. Before tidying up his long auburn hair. 

"I can’t do both though Lucien. I'm not dealing with your brothers and Tamlin. That's too much, even for me” You remarked.

Lucien’s relationship with his brothers remained strained, the scars of their shared trauma running deep. Despite Beron’s demise, Eris was now Autumn’s High Lord. The brothers wounds were not so easily healed, and the weight of their history continued to cast a shadow over their interactions.

“Plus I do believe some forced proximity may do you and Tamlin some good” you pointed a look at him, referencing their damaged friendship.

Lucien bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing at you. He couldn’t help but envy how effortlessly you seemed to navigate the complexities of every situation, every conversation. Always knowing the right words to say, and the right actions to take. Qualities that had undoubtedly drawn him to seek your assistance in the first place. 

Qualities he forgot he would also be susceptible to.

"I'll look after Autumn and your hotheaded brothers. You deal with the depressed blondie," you suggested, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Fine," Lucien conceded, begrudgingly acknowledging the wisdom in your words.

“I want Dawn, it’s my home and Thesan would be heartbroken if I wasn’t his courtier,” you asserted confidently.

"Then I'll have Day," Lucien negotiated, a hint of determination in his tone.

As the conversation turned to the remaining courts, you paused, considering the options carefully. The Night Court held a particular significance for Lucien, given his mate's presence there, but you were keenly aware of the tension that still lingered between them.

"I can take Night if that helps. I've already been the one updating their Spymaster recently anyway," you offered, your voice steady as you finally finished straightening up Lucien. Pulling your hands swiftly behind your back.

He mirrored your pose "Then I will manage Winter," Lucien conceded, a sense of resignation colouring his words. He wasn’t very fond of the cold, but neither were you. 

But he was happy to take this one for you, as you had taken Autumn and Night for him.

"Summer is mine. You can have the humans, your Band of Rejects or whatever they're called," you remarked playfully.

"Exiles," Lucien corrected with a humorous purr, a brief flicker of amusement softening his eyes.

“Apologies…band of exile…-d rejects” you humoured, before you felt him nudge you with his shoulder.

Your soft laughs filled the room before you tilted your head to look at your dearest friend “Look at you now. Exiled no more. Mr. Emissary of Peace” 

Lucien smiled proudly at the title, he had come a long way. This new chapter for Phrytian was daunting, but he was grateful to have you by his side “You ready?”

With a nod you grinned wide “Let’s go peacekeep the fuck out of them Lucie!” 

Next Part >>

a/n: Eeeekkkk so here's a little intro to set the tone and roles! Just a little disclaimer, there will be a few things in this series that haven't happened in the books, but it works for the plot. Only small things, so just go with it please! Excited to share this story with you all <3 - Lottie x

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #eris x azriel #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x reader x azriel #eris x y/n #eris x you #azriel x eris

[rebeltigera]

MASTERPOST SHADOWLORD AU

Story of kind "What if" , Macaque/ shadowpeach centric , heavily headcannoned , (OOC behaviour) Macaque didn't died fighting Wukong during Journey, instead he ran away to Bull family , healed and became a demon lord of his own little island , uknowingly to Wukong. The story itself begin after S3 , when MK powers started to mess around and he landed on Mac's island. Shenanigans ensure.

-DESTROYED TERRITORY ARC-

MK isn't the only one who can lift the staff Mentor coming to the rescue "Done for" Animatic Are you here for the boy? Or this. That's Enough! First Confrontation WHERE'S MK??

-TRAINING ARC-

Lesson number- 1 / 2 / 3 What do you know? The harsh truth Are you sure about it bud? Little talk

Hangout in the village

-BROTHERHOOD ARC-

Worry A clone came asking Lord and his advisors Redson and Nezha rescued from celestial realm

-SCROLL ARC-

Tormenting Wukong 1 / 2 / Tormenting Wukong Animatic Tormenting Wukong Animatic 2 ( No longer you) Rescue mission and wounds made by scroll

-BEFORE GREAT BATTLE ARC-

Azure got some guts to try to manipulate Apologies attempt at talking Attempt continuation Scars animatic Plan Just before the fight

-GREAT BATTLE ARC-

Mac getting unbenched Mac getting to fight Peng animatic Peng got fried Holding reality 1 / 2 Redson scolding his uncle

-AFTERMATH (basically healing arc, not really in order)

Maybe Wukong's help is an good idea? You must have been so scared Can we talk? mocking 1 / 2 Calm days 1 /2 Do we kick him out or let him sleep? Wukong got insomnia. Lullaby helps Chirping problem Wine party trio Ask for blessing ( PIF n DBK) animatic Pif got angry at that ^ Ask for blessing ( Chang'e) Animatic COURTING SEASON Courting season "argue" Oversensitive ears Moment of weakness That one lion king scene Every scar got a history PIF did an huge oopsie Kisss One drunk monke Nap destroyer Teasing Lantern Night

FAR FUTURE // DIYU

Wedding in Diyu is the gayest sh ever Lost again Vision -PAST (Wukong pov)

First sight How King fell in love Under the mountain What Wukong saw during the fight What Wukong found after the fight instead of his home Burned home Hallucinations Longing

-DEMON BULL FAMILY ARC (Mac's Past)-

Shadow realm is a savior The lie. Wounds Healing Longing Chang'e Long hair Ao Lie Dbk's inprisonment Training with the young prince Redson got struck with lightning in s1 Uncle support his nephew in romance matters Uncle teaches about make up

-OTHER- Mac n Bai He animatic Cuddle time Mamac Mac human fem ver Shadowpeach clothes Mac mech - if he had one Shadowpeach ref Mac kaiju Redson Ref Savage and Rumble

HONORARY MENTION AO3 STORIES are not mine but based off my AU AO3 " That time" series made by @lycorisketch

last updated : 22.02.24

#my art #rebeltigera #my artwork #monkiekid #lmk #shadowlordau #shadow lord au

[general-cyno]

I've been on law backstory brainrot and one thing stuck on my mind is the topic of lies, wrt rocinante in specific. I find him fascinating as a character and it's like - the flashback focuses on law, of course, since it's part of his story, but it's still somewhat objective. we're shown some of rocinante's inner thoughts at times. he's kinda hard to pinpoint though, in terms of overall personality. there's the little brother and son of former celestial dragons, rocinante the marine, corazón the executive, and law's cora-san.

a line that stayed with me despite the kinda goofy context was law's the most ridiculous thing about you is the only part that's true, back when rocinante first revealed his motives after learning of law's full name. rocinante is sincere but not necessarily always-honest. it's all over his character too, what with being an undercover agent. rocinante lied to doflamingo and his crew, he lied to his adoptive father/father figure, he even lied to law, denying his identity as a navy officer and insisting doffy wouldn't kill him. even so, the one person he apologizes to? is also law.

we don't really know if covert operations within the marines were always his thing or just something he did because it involved his brother. regardless, rocinante was forced to lie for different reasons: for a greater good (his mission to stop doflamingo), for law's sake (stealing the op op fruit). when faced with the brat he'd grown attached to and wished to save, he lies again, but only because he didn't want law to hate him. there's just something painfully bittersweet about it. it's a little selfish too. he didn't regret lying to his older brother. he didn't express regret over lying to sengoku, the man who'd raised him like a son, either. it's in the moment of his imminent death and the exposure he subjected himself to so that law could escape, when he voices it out - I'm sorry for lying, I just didn't want you to hate me.

rocinante was willing to make an enemy out of everyone, even the organization he belonged to and the man who'd raised him, yet it was law he didn't wish to be hated by. his last direct words to law were I love you and an apology, neither of which he received a response to. rocinante died not knowing for sure if law felt the same or if he resented rocinante for his association to the marines but he didn't need to, anyway, because reciprocity wasn't the point. he saved law because he loved him and saving him was the right thing to do, not for the D or whatever destiny awaited law in the future, just because he was a kid who'd suffered so much and deserved to live and be free. this is pretty much what law's conversation with sengoku is about, too. don't ever attach a reason to the love you've received.

on the one hand you've got rocinante who died, uncertain of whether law hated him or not, for the lies and all, hoping to be remembered for his smile. not knowing law would build so much of his self and life around his cherished memories of cora. on the other, there's law who spent thirteen years being unable to realize how truly unconditional cora's love for him was in the end, up until the aftermath of dressrosa. such a tragic duo for real.

#tp #one piece #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #trafalgar law #anyway time to go cry again #that part of the heart pirates facing blackbeard is getting animated soon and it's making me emotional all over again #little law who hated the marines so much yet begged one (unknowingly that one being fucking vergo of all ppl) to help cora #URGHHHHHJ

[acoraxia]

What are your thoughts on shadowpeach?

Fandom wise? I do not care for it.

Canon wise? I believe in men committing crimes while forming the most toxic, unhealthy attachments to one person could lead to such a dysfunctional relationship that it, eventually, turns into a functional one. And also they’re trans and aspec.

Disclaimer: this is all my opinion and people can do whatever they want, i simply have my gripes with some of the fandom stuff. this is just me explaining what i like and dislike about shadowpeach.

I think the most common thing people fall into when it comes to ships—or shipping in general—is how to domesticate these two characters without fully addressing their flaws, personalities, behavior, and their overall choices throughout the original media/show they come from. 

Macaque and SWK both suffer equally through this mischaracterization: Macaque is often painted as this shy or “edgy” character with little to no ties to his actual character in canon and, more often than not, he is perceived as this “dad” type of character when, in fact, he should not be allowed near children for I fear he will bully them nonstop until they sit there in the corner feeling disheartened and miserable about themselves; Sun Wukong is often portrayed as this dumb himbo with little-to-no means of understanding social cues, not understanding emotions in a way that’s very frustrating, and be this yearning, pining idiot who’s still longing for his childhood crush when he did not hesitate to punch this guy in the face multiple times throughout the show. So when they are paired up together it’s this weird mash of people believing Macaque is the better dad with more understanding of human behavior and Wukong is his dumb, doting husband who’s doing his best and cannot stand up for himself when confronted about things.

The amount of times people choose to make Macaque sympathetic by having Sun Wukong’s family side with Macaque when it comes to Wukong’s actions/choices is so vast I could not count them all on one hand. The common trope of having Princess Iron Fan (Sun Wukong’s sister-in-law) become Macaque’s sworn sister is so disheartening to see for someone who read through Journey To The West and thought of how silly the overall family dynamic of the Demon Bull Family and Sun Wukong’s troops was. Removing Iron Fan as Sun Wukong’s literal sister just to have someone backup Macaque and sympathize with him is funny and a bit silly. 

That being said… the canon version of Shadowpeach and its possibilities are, in fact, very delicious.

Canon wise this is what we know about Sun Wukong and Macaque’s history together: 

Sun Wukong and Macaque meet

The brotherhood is formed after Azure meets Sun Wukong, Macaque tags along with Wukong (note: Macaque is not addressed as “brother” by the characters, only Wukong is)

Macaque tries to warn Wukong about how dealing with Heaven might be a bad idea

They share a peach under a tree; Wukong reassures Macaque this plan will work

Wukong carries on with Azure’s plan anyway (yes, azure lion’s plan, not wukong’s)

The brotherhood is defeated and Wukong gets trapped under a mountain

Presumably no one comes to visit Wukong, only Macaque

During his final visit, Wukong is angry that Macaque is free and can’t see the fact that Wukong was trying to do everything for them and his kingdom

Macaque snaps back at Wukong and calls him an obsessive demon before leaving

They have another fallout and fight

Wukong ends up killing Macaque in the aftermath

500~ years later, Macaque and Wukong fight again with Wukong being more apathetic towards their reunion than Macaque is

Macaque obsesses over Wukong continuously (coughs)

Macaque is biased in his retellings of his and Wukong’s relationship (see: all of shadowplay and the scrolls memories)

They fight (again) throughout S3

They somewhat reconcile by the end of S4

We will address the fact Sun Wukong was groomed into going to war by this former celestial warrior instead of having it be because of his own want to protect his family and friends after Heaven refused to pay him the respect he wanted when he first joined their ranks later. Right now we focus on the fact that Sun Wukong is canonically a person people easily fall in love with (platonically) and have a tendency to want to stay close to regardless of what his future actions will be like and Macaque is sequentially obsessed with him throughout the show.

“The hero and the warrior were like the Sun and the Moon. Their light, a protective glow, shining upon the world. Together, there was nothing that could stop the two of them. Either in the Celestial Realms or on Earth. As time went on, the hero attained power beyond comprehension. As the hero's light grew, so too did his shadow. And soon, the warrior was cast in that shadow. In the darkness, the warrior was forgotten by the hero.”

Fun fact: Macaque is never going to be on par with Sun Wukong’s power and he works best as support than he does a duo-attacker along side Wukong. Wukong is on his own power level and Macaque, while being able of holding his own against enemies, could be stomped to death by Xiaoijiao is he crossed the line.

Macaque’s obsession with Sun Wukong comes from the inability to move on from the past; Macaque wanting things to go back as they were is a subtle theme going through the show — he keeps latching on to biased memories and avoiding the actual problems that caused their relationship to fall apart and it isn’t until Season 3’s big confrontation with Long Xiaojiao’s Samadhi Fire ritual. He realizes he abandoned Wukong during a time of need and proceeds to flee, abandoning him again. 

Macaque has issues. More often than not people call out on Sun Wukong for abandoning Xiaotian or the Monkie Kid Crew all while ignoring the fact Sun Wukong does not purposefully leave Qi Xiaotian, he tries his hardest to make it back in time and is visibly scared/horrified when LBD attacks in his absence. Sun Wukong tries his hardest to comfort Xiaotian while Macaque tries to torment him. 

Regardless, Sun Wukong and Macaque’s relationship is unique to most media’s portrayal of friends turned enemies. Because Wukong does not see Macaque as a threat up until he teams up with Lady Bone Demon — he is only scary by association, not by anything he has done up until that point. You can tell with the way Wukong mocks him and calls him something akin to a puppet during their interaction in Season 3 when Macaque trapped him and Nezha in the ice. 

And even then Macaque doesn’t even bother trying to engage with Wukong in a friendly manner because kindness is for losers HA i’m not apologizing for anything, bye Sun Wukong, you big old LOSER [proceeds to possibly live on the streets and stay homeless until wukong allows him to return to ffm under certain house rules]

You’ll notice that Sun Wukong barely has any opinions on Macaque.

This is because Macaque is favored by the narrative more than Sun Wukong is so we have very little context as to how Sun Wukong genuinely feels towards Macaque. 

Sun Wukong sees Macaque as an annoyance, a bother, a threat, a coward, an imposter and then, finally, an ally. 

But all we get from that is Wukong handing Macaque a peach-flavored ice cream pop as a parallel to him sharing a peach with his old friend back when they were young monkeys before he was trapped under a mountain for 500 years as a result of his abuser’s power hold on him that forced him to fight heaven as a way to “make the world a better place”. 

We love to see it.

Macaque and Wukong’s relationship goes from mutual interest and a supportive friendship established years prior to the original building of the brotherhood to a very weird, uncategorized type of dynamic. The only way to characterize Sun Wukong’s “affection” towards Macaque is, possibly, the same way most people would characterize Macaque to be towards Wukong. Y’know the slightly judgmental actions and eye rolls and scoffs of affection most people write about Macaque when Wukong does something stupid? Yeah.

“But Macaque said “this guy” when Wukong was presenting his plan to defeat Azure—“ yeah have you considered Wukong does a lot of masking in the presence of the entire Monkie Kid Crew and Macaque has a tendency to present himself as this cool persona when in fact he’s just a homeless monkey who’s been crashing on his ex’s couch for the past weeks since the ending of Season 3? 

“OK…. but why QPR Shadowpeach?”

Sun Wukong throughout the course of Journey to the West and all its past and future iterations have always had him be uninterested in both men and women. There are multiple instances where he’s capable of courting women and he instead backs away or does not pay it any mind; aside from this he’s heavily implied to only care about familial love and friendships. He does not see his pilgrim brothers as anything more than family and he views Tripitaka as a mentor rather than someone whom he was chained to. And Azure was his idol and he was groomed by him, and everyone else was viewed to him as a troop — or, y’know, a family.

This and the fact that— both Sun Wukong and Macaque are over a thousand years old. Why on earth would they have a normal type of relationship? Giving them a checklist of what passes on as romantic and platonic when to them the line is so blurred it’s barely existent to them is amusing. 

Sun Wukong and Macaque having their own weird relationship where it changes from frustrated best friends to partners to angry middle aged demons to the tired traumatized immortals who sometimes cuddle while still beating each other up is so deliciously interesting and unhealthy to the point where it is healthy. 

Also Celestial bodies are not the same as mortal bodies; canonically Sun Wukong has transformed into women before and people have addressed him with female-leaning pronouns before. my personal headcanon of sun wukong being genderfluid lves on and now we can have sapphic shadowpeach with transfem macaque.

also im still feverish so if this doesnt make sense then too bad damn im sorry

#analysis #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #six eared macaque #lmk six eared macaque #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong #shadowpeach #qpr shadowpeach #ok im tired #goodbye forever now im going to get a haircut #and then maybe go to the movies ig #lmao

[heartpascal]

fight the tide

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you face the consequences of going to seattle

▹— a/n: hello, this ended up being different to what i had planned. i hope yall enjoy anyway. its very angsty. very sad. at least to me. be careful with what you read. mind the warnings. love you.

▹— warnings: MAJOR TLOU 2 SPOILERS, suicidal ideation, or thinking about dying, almost hoping to die, major character death (referenced), canon-typical violence, eg murder, descriptions of blood / being covered in blood, kinda religious imagery / talks of divinity (no explicit religion mentioned), hints at a possible romance with jesse

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything!) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915  @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being (pedro)

MASTERLIST

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Setting off from Jackson was a distant memory, by now. It was hazed over, an image in your mind that didn’t seem to fit into reality, no matter how you tried it.

The past few weeks didn’t seem real to you, either.

More than once, you had found yourself waiting to wake up. As if all of this could be some sort of bad dream. A nightmare that you couldn’t escape, no matter how many times you pinched and clawed at yourself, trying to figure out how to prove that this wasn’t real.

Because, really, how could it be? This world, this city, it didn’t feel like it could be true. You didn’t feel like you, and this certainly didn’t feel like it was your life. Wherever you looked, the terrain showed the aftermath of a rampage.

Bodies strewn across the ground, puddles of red dripping down curbs, down cars, down buildings, down your hands. It was beneath your fingernails, caked into your hair, drying on your clothes. For a moment, you thought it was yours. It was the only plausible reason for why you were feeling so empty, wasn’t it? The only explanation for why your heart felt as if it would burst at any given moment.

This rampage was an act of such violence, such rage, it seemed unfathomable to you. You couldn’t remember a time where you had felt something so deeply that it presented as destruction. As a massacre.

That was the word for this, too. Massacre. All of these bodies were once people, once held love and life and the ability to hurt and kill others, just as you did. And when you looked closer, when you looked at their guns and their knives, the bows and the arrows, you knew they had been trying to kill you.

It made sense.

You didn’t want it to, but it did.

These people had tried to kill you, had tried to slaughter you, and they had ended up dead for it. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, either. Joel had killed more people than you could count, just for the crime of trying to bring you harm. It made sense that he would do it again.

“Joel?” You called, your voice echoing in the empty surroundings, bouncing off of bodies and weapons, off of the tangible feeling of death that hung in the air.

Your chest was heaving, breath entering and leaving your lungs so rapidly that it didn’t have time to supply the oxygen you so desperately needed. You hadn’t noticed how unsteady your breathing was, until you had spoken, until you had called out for Joel. It made you feel dizzy, all of a sudden, like everything was hitting you all at once.

For a moment, you didn’t notice that he hadn’t answered you.

But his silence lingered, and the only thing you could hear through it was the sound of your own panicking breaths.

That feeling from earlier — the one of your heart, which had been feeling as if it would burst at any given moment, revealed itself as a choked sob. It jumped out of your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Joel again.

Your devastation didn’t register, for more than a moment. Until you remembered why you were here, why there was a gun in your hand, empty of ammunition. When you looked around, you didn't find Joel. Instead, all you found was blood and death and your machete lay on the ground, a dent in the grass, covered in blood and gore.

There was something hanging over your head, something which felt as if it was holding your head underwater. It felt like the water was forcing its way down your throat, into your lungs, filling them up until all you could do was choke, heave on the lack of breath. Your head was exploding, pressure against the sides of your skull, pushing out, out, out, like a fungus was bursting through you. Only the vague feeling of your hand pressing against your head reassured you that you weren’t Infected.

The memories flashed before your eyes, distorting the image of destruction ahead of you, filling your mind with reality. Joel. Cracked skull, insides out. The unrelenting taste of iron on your tongue, your teeth. Getting on a horse in Jackson, and leaving. Fighting your way through Infected, people, even past Tommy. All in your search for vengeance, for Abby.

And all it had led you to was before you, laid out in death.

Did this make you a monster? Was it evil? You’re not sure if you believe in such a thing anymore, but if you did, you think it would look like a woman, braided hair, golf club raised in the air. But there’s this nagging feeling at the base of your skull, asking you, are you better?

You don’t know what it means. Are you better? Than what? Because of this? You want to ask Joel, but when you turn, he’s still there. Still lay out on concrete, skull scattered around the room, blood staining your skin.

It’s all you can think of. It’s all you can see. Even in the bodies around you, the people that you killed, you see a flash of white, a splatter of blood, and it’s all Joel. There’s the imprint of his boot in the grass, the sound of his voice in the wind, but the only heartbeat you can hear is your own.

Your knees press into the grass, and you stain your jeans with blood, but it feels soft. Softer than the concrete in that basement, softer than the frozen dirt in front of his gravestone. It’s welcoming, or something like it, and your heart aches with it.

A sound breaks through the air, pierces through the air that carries Joel’s voice, and it takes you more than a moment of your throat aching to realise it’s you. And there’s disappointment in that, you realise, that the only person here is you. Nobody is here to kill you, and nobody is here to protect you.

The sound coming from you doesn’t sound like your voice, doesn’t have any familiarity to you. It doesn’t convey words, but rather something harsher, something deeper, a sound which traverses language and time. It breaks these barriers, and empties the chest of something ancient, something eternal.

It wavers as time passes, it comes and goes, much like your recognition. Sometimes, you’re here, belting out something that doesn’t fit into words, and then you’re there, screaming out for mercy that never comes. And all you can hear is Joel, and he’s yelling at you, to you, but you can’t tell what he’s saying.

All you can see is his lips spelling something that he couldn’t say, that you couldn’t translate. You want to tell him you love him. You want to scream at him for going down there. You want him to pull you away from these corpses, but he can’t, and neither can you.

No matter how hard you try, there’s nothing you can do to pull yourself up, to overcome that weight that continues to drown you. It presses down on you until your nose is against the grass, and all you can smell is iron and dirt.

You stay there, one palm pressed against the machete that had been resting on the ground, the other gripping the dirt, for what seems like eternity. There’s no escape from it, nowhere you can turn to pull yourself from this mourning, this hell. And you know that nobody is coming to save you.

It sends a chill down your spine — tingling and bringing feeling back to limbs that had long-since turned numb, the realisation that you are going to end up just like Joel.

Here, against the ground, reduced to something less than human.

And — like Joel — there’s no fighting it.

If Abby approached, golf club raised to the heavens, you would accept it. You would welcome it.

Because surely, whatever would be waiting you, it would be better than this. This endless moment of suffering, of pain and grief so deep it encompasses your whole being. You wonder—hope that Joel would be waiting for you.

You feel guilty, a moment later, because you know that Joel deserves to rest—whatever that meant. And you also know that he had never done that, when he was around you. It was selfish to hope for him to be waiting for you, to hope that he would put whatever was awaiting him on hold, all for you.

Joel had been waiting to die for a long, long time.

Ever since Sarah.

And that fact sends a fresh wave of guilt through you, as if you could hold on to any more emotion, because Sarah was his daughter. She was everything he had wanted, since the moment she was born. And he had been waiting to join her. He had waited for Tommy, for Tess, and then for you and Ellie.

Maybe, Sarah sent Abby for him.

Maybe she got tired of waiting for her dad, whilst he feigned dad for two orphans, left alone in the bitter end of the world.

You try to think of her like that. Some sort of angel, a gift sent from Sarah, all to give Joel the mercy of death. To give him the easy way out. Because Joel didn’t have a choice about dying, Abby had made sure of that, so he couldn’t feel an ounce of guilt for leaving you and Ellie and Tommy to pick up the pieces, to carry his body home to an empty house, a dip in the earth.

It made sense to you, somehow.

Abby seemed so… unmovable.

She was like the force of nature. Nothing you, or Joel, or anyone, had done would’ve stopped her from doing what she did.

If you thought of her like this, as something divine, something above yourself, it was easier. It was easier to forgive yourself for failing to stop her, and now, for failing to end her.

But it also makes the guilt so much heavier.

And you don’t know how you can carry it, anymore.

Because if she was that, if she was something like a divine intervention, then you were doing everything that Joel had never wanted, for nothing. This, right here, this explosion of death, this blood, staining your hands, was what Joel had tried to steer you away from.

He didn’t want you to turn out like him.

Angry, burned, covered in blood.

Monstrous.

He was covered in the scent of stale blood, of death so old it had decayed to nothing, to earth and ash and life reborn. He was stained with it. Distorted by it. It had made his vision red, for as long as he could remember.

Joel didn’t want that for you.

Joel didn’t want you to end up here, knelt in the grass, drenched in blood and sweat, in guts and gore and everything wrong with this world.

And there’s even more guilt in that knowledge. You’re disappointing him. You can practically hear his voice ringing through the air, asking you what you were doing, why you were doing it. You could hear him telling you that he’s not worth all of this. It hurts that you can’t tell him otherwise. If he was here, you could have screamed at him, told him he was worth everything. But he’s not.

How do you carry that around with you? How can you? Are you supposed to drag the weight of Joel’s dead body behind you for the rest of your life?

He would tell you to let him go. He would tell you to live your life. But Joel had never really understood just what he meant to you, to everybody. He could never quite grasp the concept that he was loved, that he was one of the reasons you got up in the morning, one of the reasons you always fought to go home.

The problem is—you don’t want to let him go.

Your hand curls around the grass beneath it, sticky with blood, as if you could physically hold on to him. More than anything, you’re worried about losing the memories. If you let go of Joel, if you let his death fade to the back of your mind, would his life follow? Would you start to forget everything he had done for you? Everything he had meant to you?

Would you forget the sound of his laughter? The smile that only appeared on occasions, which lit up his entire face? The hug he greeted you with when you came home after a particularly hard day? The embarrassing talk he gave you about liking people your age? The feeling of having a father?

If you could, you would stay in those memories forever.

A ghost in your own past, haunting the man who had gone somewhere you couldn’t quite bring yourself to follow. You would go through all of that, the good and the bad, all over again, if it meant you could stay with Joel. Because despite everything, all of the things you had lived through, Joel Miller had become your home.

How could he expect you to let go of that? How could you be okay with that? After the life that you had led, you deserved to go home. It was hard not to resent Joel for expecting you to be okay with letting him go—divine intervention or not.

And you know, that if the tables were turned, if it were you who had been buried, if it was Joel who was here right now, he wouldn’t let you go. He would hunt Abby down, and he would make her suffer for what she had done, because Joel Miller was a force of nature, too.

Either way, he would have to find her.

So, shouldn’t you?

You think that you need to know. You have to find out if she’s this unearthly being that you have made her out to be. You need to know if you could’ve stopped her. If Joel could be alive, right here, right now.

There’s something so poetic about it all, you think.

Maybe, if you were in a better headspace, you could’ve figured it out. But really, what use was poetry in this world?

You’re working up the courage, the ability, to move, when you hear the footsteps crunching gravel just behind you. They’re heavy, purposeful, and you realise you’re still weeping, still screaming out for someone who can’t come. You think—hope—that this is Abby, here to put an end to this suffering. To these unending questions.

But there’s a warm hand against your back, a moment later, and no golf club swung at your skull.

“I’ve got ya, kiddo.” A voice says to you, hands grasping your shoulders, the twang of an accent so familiar that you’re reaching out, eyes closed, waiting for the person to reach back. When they do, your eyes open, but it’s not who you thought it was. You hadn’t died on this grass, and Joel wasn’t here to get you. Instead, Tommy stood in his place, his hands cleaner than your own.

When you look around, you wonder if you’re the monster that people will tell their children about. The person who ripped people to shreds, who tore them apart for no reason other than a quest for vengeance, one that wasn’t even fulfilled. Maybe, you think, you will become a cautionary tale. A warning for others. An example of what not to become, even in the apocalypse.

This was senseless. It was a slaughter.

All of these people are dead, and you don’t even know their names. They fought to protect themselves and the people around them, something of a team, maybe even a family, all because you are angry, and you are hurt, and you miss your dad. How many of these people have families at home? Families who will never see them again, because of you.

You know you’re not a divine being.

There was no otherworldly reason for your massacre. There was nobody behind a curtain, choosing your actions. No—there was just you.

What right did you have to decide these people should die? What right did you have to end their lives? Was one man—one dead man—truly worth this? Did he deserve to be the reason for your murderous rampage? Would he have wanted this? Would he be proud?

“C‘mere.” Tommy says, kneeling on the ground beside you, and shifting you until he could hold you tightly in his arms. If you don’t focus so much, if you let your mind wander, this could be Joel. It could be your dad hugging you, staining his clothes with the blood you’re drowning in. They’re similar enough, brothers, that you can imagine it is.

He’s holding you together.

“We need to get you out of here.” Tommy tells you, breaking the illusion you had been hoping to live in forever. You know he’s being patient with you — you can tell with every gust of wind that rustles the grass below you. Each one could bring more people, more bodies, yet Tommy refuses to rush you. Instead, he holds you tightly, like the cracks in your surface may lead to you bursting.

You suppose he’s right to worry.

His brother is dead. Joel is dead. And here he is, holding you in one piece, as if that wind could shatter you.

Selfishly, you don’t want him to be patient, or gentle, or kind. You want Tommy to show you some kind of mercy, to bring you peace of mind, of soul. But he can’t, unless he has some kind of insight that you don’t, unless he has ripped Abby apart and seen the divinity in her creation.

“C’mon,” Jesse says then, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. You hadn’t realised he was even nearby. Didn’t hear him approaching, though that could’ve been because of the unearthly wailing that had surrounded you. “I’m sorry,” He says, hand wiping at your face where it rests against Tommy’s shoulder. “We have to go. We have to go now. I’m sorry.”

And he does sound sorry—god, he sounds more apologetic than you had ever heard him.

You don’t know if he’s sorry for making you get up, for making you face the world again, or if he’s sorry that you’re even here, sorry that Joel is dead. You don’t know which you would prefer. You try to decide, and realise not long after that the two of them had pulled you to your feet, hands gripping you, waiting for you to hold yourself up.

“Jesse,” You choke out, reaching for him, as if seeing him for the first time. His hands are holding your own before you can even get out another word, uncaring of the blood that covers them. He squeezes once, twice, thrice, before he lets go to press his hands to your cheeks, grounding you, almost.

“It’s okay.” He says, and you can see in his eyes that he knows it’s a lie.

He takes your hand, pats your cheek, his forehead against your own for no more than a moment, before he’s letting Tommy take over, letting the man soothe his fatherly instincts. Uncle Tommy. You imagine a life where you would have called him that.

Tommy leads you away.

Away from the bodies, the gore, the guilt, hopefully. He grips onto you the whole way, pulls you along every time you stumble, holds you up whenever you long to fall. All the way until you reach a theatre, where Ellie and Dina have been bunkered, one of them tells you. We’re going home.

You wonder if they’re going to bury you in the ground, beside Joel. Home. You think it sounds nice.

#heartpascal writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller angst #the last of us imagine #tlou angst #tlou imagine #tlou one shot #tommy miller x platonic!reader #joel miller father figure #joel miller x you #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #tlou 2 #tlou 2 spoilers #the last of us part two spoilers #tlou spoilers #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x platonic!reader #pedro pascal x gn!reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you

[getousatoruu]

Itafushi my babies! Hope you enjoy them fics! <3

Teenagers Annoy the Living Hell out of Me by LostLoveLetters (M, 11.4k)

In which Sukuna is a reluctant wingman and regrets his life decisions deeply due to one hopeless brat's exasperating pining. AKA a fic in which Sukuna hates slow burn. And existence itself.

that's the spirit! by akaashism (G, 9.2k)

Toji rolled his eyes. "Just tell him how you feel, I didn't raise a coward." "You didn't raise me," Megumi reminded him. Megumi was being haunted. Not by the ghosts of his past but an actual ghost. The spirit of his deceased father. Megumi gets a wingman and a father in one go.

save your love (for someone like me) by ruledbyv3nus (T, 11.4k)

Even though he knows that he isn’t entitled to every detail in Itadori’s life, it irks him to think there is someone that he knows absolutely nothing about. Especially someone, he realizes with a sinking feeling, that is exactly Itadori’s type. What was it he had said to Todo? Tall, dark hair, kind of badass. In other words, exactly like the tall, dark-haired, intimidating looking man who just walked out of Itadori’s dorm room.

No One Gets it Right on the First (Or Second) Try by j_jabbers (T, 12.4k)

5 times Yuuji and Fushiguro's dates go other than planned, and one time where they finally get it right

moments in between by gratsu (G, 1.3k)

Yuuji’s brain feels like it’s sizzled up and died, but Megumi’s lips are a centimetre away from his own and maybe this isn’t so confusing anymore, because he’s closing his eyes and leaning in too, and— “Wait, are you guys fucking gay?” Sukuna. Fuck, he’d forgotten about him.

Wedding Ring Pop by kookiekawa (G, 8.3k)

To which Megumi comes home with a ring pop on his finger and causes Gojo to become the manchild he is.

built your walls around me by alkhale (M, 15.2k)

“You want to ruin him," Sukuna says. Maybe Sukuna isn’t wrong about that, Fushiguro thinks in a daze. Itadori’s heart is too heavy and too precious. It’s a burden that shouldn’t be given to anyone else. Because even Itadori himself can’t take care of it, can’t hold onto it for the life of him because he’d rather become the vessel to the most wretched of all curses just to help two people he’s only known for a few months—to help Fushiguro, who he’d only met that night. (I can keep it. Fushiguro’s hands move. I can hold onto it, if you want.) Or— Some dreams start to keep Fushiguro up at night, and the cure to stopping them might be closer than he thinks.

help me hold onto you by strawberrysuguru (M, 3.7k)

He aches for that closeness, that touch, but he can’t let himself lean forward and take it. Instead, he presses his thigh closer to Yuuji’s, letting the warmth sink into his skin five times megumi touched yuuji

Your Heartbeat is My Comfort by EpicKiya722 (T, 1.2k)

Seeing Yuuji die before had left Megumi needing to feel his heartbeat to know he's alive. It's how he finds peace.

Epistolary of Shadows and Embers: The Red Rain by lunaseleneartem (M, 17.5k)

Megumi, a sharp-witted detective, wielded intellect as his weapon and compassion as his shield. With his own sense of justice, he knew not the depths of love until he crossed paths with Yuuji, a radiant soul shining amidst the grey shadows of existence. Fate weaved their destinies together, connecting their hearts with a celestial thread of unyielding devotion. CW: This has a sad ending

here and where you are by cityboys (T, 17.2k)

It’s in the middle of scanning the last bottle of green tea that Itadori properly looks up. Eye contact with him is a physical, unexpected shock, a crunch of imaginary static snapping through Megumi and leaving his hands twitching at his sides. "Hey." Itadori blinks, wide and earnest. "Do I know you from somewhere?" The tea sloshes backwards in the bottle he’s holding. Megumi focuses on this until his vision steadies. "No," he says. "I don’t think so." In the aftermath, Itadori loses his memories instead of his life. Megumi grieves nonetheless. CW: This also has a sad ending (yeah yeah I love angst)

In Every Lifetime by kat_likes_writing (G, 53.2k, Ongoing)

Megumi is sent on a mission to retrieve Ryomen Sukuna's finger from a high school, which should have been an easy mission. But with his strange dreams intensifying and becoming more vivid, he has a hard time sleeping. It should be an easy mission. He is just not sure why the boy who found the finger seems so familiar. Ps: Everyday I wait for it to update like how a dog waits for his owner to come home, no warnings just wanted to let you know this fic is one of my top faves

Twitch Streamer Yuuji and Youtuber Megumi by kat_likes_writing (G, 43.7k)

Yuuji is a famous Twitch streamer who does streams from his college dorm. Among his fanbase, his huge crush on a random book reviewer on youtube has become a running joke. The fanbase decides to make it their mission to discover who Yuuji's mystery crush is. Megumi has a very small book reviewing channel on Youtube he started in high school. He doesn't even know what Twitch is, but Nobara keeps insisting he needs to help her find this random Twitch Streamer's secret crush. Her reasoning: the secret crush does youtube and reviews books.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fic recs #itafushi fic #itafushi fic recs #fushiita #fushiita fic recs #fic rec #itadori yuuji #megumi fushiguro #jjk fic recs #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic recs #jjk megumi #jjk yuuji #itafushi #itadori yuji #itadori #megumi #yuuji #yuji itadori #megumi x yuuji #yuuji x megumi #megumi x itadori #itadori x fushiguro #pls enjoy them fics and support the authors bye #<3

[gffa]

Hey, hi, cool, so I just thought, for no reason that I can think of at this particular time, you all might want to fall back into the Kalluzeb rabbit hole with me, especially since they didn't get onscreen resolution for the desperate need I had for them to kiss, so fic is here to help solve that for us. Also feelings. So many, many feelings. And delicious mutual pining and hilarity of two idiots who clearly want to bang each other, with the knowledge that Zeb eventually will totally get his man (Steve Blum said so!!! just like that!!!) which makes it fun to watch two dumbasses circle each other around. Or finally give in because there's definitely a lot of giving in. Anyway, yes, have some STAR WARS REBELS fic, centered on Kallus and Zeb just because I thought it would be a fun side trip today. No reason! Just seemed like the thing to do, is all! STAR WARS REBELS KALLUZEB FIC RECS: ✦ A Lasat Walks into a Bar by Holderisms, zeb/kallus, the mandalorian spoilers, 1.3k    After speaking with Teva, Zeb gets a drink. Even when someone is waiting on him. ✦ Eudaemonia by Bur, zeb/kallus, 7.9k    Alexsandr never expected to find peace more terrifying than war. ✦ Hoth is (Not) for Lovers by bar2d2s, zeb/kallus, 1.2k    Hoth is cold and Kallus is miserable. Set only just before Empire Strikes Back. ✦ Falling in Love with the Right Now (Poster Boy) by akaparalian, (pre-)zeb/kallus & ghost crew, 1.6k    Somewhere out there in the galaxy, there's a rebel propaganda artist who deserves a raise. ✦ It Works on You by Kereea, zeb/kallus, 3.2k    Humans and lasats can have very different ideas about what's attractive. Zeb and Kallus still tend to line up by each other's standards. ✦ Warmth by icarus_chained, zeb/kallus, 1.6k    Zeb and Kallus, in the aftermath of Zero Hour. Someone needs to put Kallus back together, or near as can be managed. ✦ Mating Rituals by Velvedere, zeb/kallus & sabine & cast, 4.7k    Zeb has been acting weird lately. Kallus vents to Sabine about it. ✦ in your warmth I forget how cold it can be by dykeannebonny, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 3.6k    "Are you going to kiss me, Garazeb Orrelios?" Alex's lips were parted; he inhaled deeply through his mouth. "I'm thinkin' about it," Zeb said quietly. ✦ What We Want by TheTrashMan (Viraaja), Viraaja, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 12k    Kallus and Zeb realize what it is they want from each other: sex, obviously. ✦ Falling in Love with the Right Now (Poster Boy) by akaparalian, zeb/kallus & phoenix crew, 1.6k    Somewhere out there in the galaxy, there's a rebel propaganda artist who deserves a raise. ✦ The Care and Keeping of Ex-Imperials Who Need Coffee, a Nap, and a Hug in That Order by akaparalian, kallus & phoenix crew (& some zeb/kallus), 8.8k    Five Ghost crew members who helped Alexsandr Kallus, and one who he helped in return. ✦ In the Middle of the Night by bar2d2s, hera & kallus (background kanan/hera & zeb/kallus), 1.8k    When one member of your self-made family is pregnant, you’re all pregnant. ✦ Celestial Navigation by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 1.7k    Kallus doesn't understand why Zeb's not sad. ✦ Untitled Rebels Fic by Mirror and Image, zeb/kallus & cast, 11.6k    Kallus, on Yavin IV, sees a Lasat that isn't Zeb. Things go as expected. ✦ When we have peace by apocrypha73, zeb/kallus, 2.9k    After the Battle of Endor, Kallus and Zeb enjoy the celebration. ✦ The Last Parking Spot on Lovers' Lane by ambiguously, zeb/kallus & hera & cast, 3.7k    All Zeb wants is to find a nice quiet spot to make out. This is not as easy as it should be. ✦ Speculation by Nana, zeb/kallus & ap-5, 1k    "AP-5," Kallus said, "are you under the impression that Captain Orrelios and I are involved, romantically?" "It is common knowledge at the base, sir. You don't have to deny it just because I am a droid." ✦ roisters by spookykingdomstarlight, zeb/kallus, 1.8k    For once, he is willing to put aside his thoughts and act. “Garazeb,” he says, because he is the only one who calls Zeb by his full name and because he’s noticed the way Zeb’s fur ripples in pleasure after he says it and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that means something. “A word?” ✦ in this world by xpityx, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 2.1k    It had been eight months. Eight months since he'd last seen Alex in person. He'd still been Kallus then, had still been convinced that the Ghost crew were taking him to his executioners. ✦ The Sea Has Ten Thousand Names by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 2.6k    Living on a new planet is hard when you don't know the language. ✦ Date Night by ambiguously, zeb/kallus & kanan/hera & jacen, 1.7k    Asking your not-boyfriend out on a date is even harder when he's stuck babysitting for his friends. ✦ Heard It in a Love Song (Can't Be Wrong) by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 2.7k    Kallus can't quite figure out what makes Zeb tick, but he keeps trying. ✦ a more than mutually beneficial agreement by wrennette, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 3.1k    It takes a while, getting ex-Agent Kallus to open up. ✦ Another Mission, Another Mess by icarus_chained, zeb/kallus & kanan/hera & ghost crew, 6.5k    Kallus has been slowly intergrating into the crew when the Ghost is assigned to a normal supply run. The mission goes south, as it usually does, Zeb takes a hit, Kallus doesn't take it well, and the rest of the crew try to pick of the pieces. Another mission, another mess. Just another day on the Ghost. ✦ Rebel Teamwork by sempaiko, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 4.9k    How many Rebels does it take to screw in a lightbulb? ✦ Unscheduled Contact by Kala_Sathinee, zeb/kallus & cast, NSFW, 3.4    During a rescue mission, Zeb gets stranded aboard the Chimaera when it jumps to hyperspace. He and Kallus make the most of the time. ✦ just another damn of the damns you're not giving by shades, zeb/kallus & cast, NSFW, 6.8k    The thing is, Zeb’s handsy. ✦ taste of pleasure by wrennette, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 1.2k    The one where Zeb follows through on his idea of fucking Sasha full of come and then eating him out until he cries ✦ Scent Blind by Rachello344, zeb/kallus & cast, NSFW, 4.4k    Alexsandr has been avoiding Zeb since he joined the Rebellion in full, convinced that prolonged contact with the Lasat will prove his undoing. As long as Zeb smells so unfathomably good, he’ll never be able to speak with him casually, especially now that there are no other divides between them. If only Zeb had gotten the memo that Alexsandr was doing this for both their sakes. Unfortunately, it seems Zeb can’t, or won’t, take a hint. ✦ In Your Orbit by LoveCrumb, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 3.2k    After wanting to touch Zeb for so long, Alex reaches up and runs his hands down Zeb’s wide chest. The fur there, like much of his body, is short and thick; it feels velvety as Alex strokes downward, and more textured and coarse on the upstroke. ✦ We Belong Way Down Below by Mithrigil, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 1.6k    Zeb runs into Kallus on a routine mission. He doesn't know how that resulted in both of them getting off, but he's not complaining. ✦ ibac jaon by wrennette, zeb/kallus, nsfw, 3.9k    Fulcrum had given up on being found. ✦ Cogs by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 1.1k    "You brought him home. That makes him yours." ✦ ever so patiently by Anonymous, zeb/kallus, NSFW, 21.2k    Lasat have very peculiar mating habits. No one thought to tell Kallus about that. or: Kallus is the last one to find out he’s being courted.

#alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #kalluzeb #the mandalorian spoilers #fic recs #star wars fic recs

[critterbitter]

SUBMAS MASTERPOST

Hello, my name is Crit (he/them.) Welcome to my SUBMAS art blog, @critterbitter! It is sfw, but please take care if you are a minor, as I’m Old. Thanks! To reach my main blog, please direct your attention to @proxycrit .

This is a masterpost of all the art and comics I’ve done for the funny train men so far. Feel free to browse and definitely feel free to comment!

(Here’s my kofi as well! If you wish to tip.)

All work can also be found under #myart.

Comics/Art List:

A SUBMAS spotify playlist-- Post Hisui Muppet Council

Emmet and eelektross— you and your dog get sent to feudal japan

Ingo and lady sneasler— you weigh like a bag of grapes

Emmet, meet volo

tynamo and emmet’s first meeting (they become friends instantly)

Litwick and ingo’s first meeting (they become enemies immediately)

Aftermath of training

The starters perform care on full grown men

Committing war crimes on both eel and man

Submas kids— the Snack that smiles back, litwick edition

Box shenanigans (caricatures of the children)

Emmet and litwick come to a deal

The difference in starter relationships boggles the mind

Good morning, litwick (good night, lady sneasler.)

Ingo fights his inner envy demons with the communication stick

Coat flapping

You are Beloved, Lampent. That’s all. 

A jackie at gear station

Tynamo evolution blues (this is funny)

The imposter syndrome sets in (it is no longer funny)

Library blues (elesa should be paid for carrying books)

Sassy night light

Happy eel dog

The joyful ordeal of evolution

Eelektrik boa (a gold standard!)

Lampent discovers discourse. This becomes everybody's problem.

Nimbasa trio walk and talk

Couch party (it's poll time!)

SUBMAS AU: Conventional Starters

Lampent is an umbrella, if you squint

Happy Holidays!

Eel-esa outfit (cause, you know, she dresses like an eel. Get it? Get it?)

Scheming

Master of manipulation.

They left Lampent in a Deino's Parking Lot

"These are our Exoskeletons, Elesa."

Chance meeting

Forbidden Lore Unlocked

Introducing Elesa, the New Kid from Sinnoh

Elesa and Blitzle

Outside the crowd

Volume Control

COLLAB: Forgiveness is Electric

Volume Control (Reprise)

Food Exchange

Electric starters

Homesick

Metaphorical and Literal Rat Children

Trouble starters

Snapshots: Route 3

Snapshots: Castelia City

Snapshots: Virbank Complex

Snapshots: Desert Resort

Snapshots: Route 8

Snapshots: Nimbasa City

Snapshots: Celestial Tower

Snapshots: Pinwheel Forest

Snapshots: Route 18

Snapshots: Anville Town

Snapshots: Undella Bay

Snapshots: Flocessy Ranch

Snapshots: Route 10

Snapshots: Driftveil City

Snapshots: Twist Mountain

Snapshots: Relic Passage

Snapshots: Route 6

Snapshots: Opelucid City

Snapshots: Chargestone Cave

Snapshots: Dream Yard

Snapshots: Route 1

Snapshots: Striaton City

Snapshots: Black City

WORLD BUILDING

Giratina and Arceus

#submas #critterbitter #pokemon #myart #masterpost