Min Yoongi tripped and fell in his apartment on the 20th, injuring his ear on a door. He was taken to a plastic surgeon who said he will not be able to participate in any activities for the rest of the year while he is recovering.
Please send Yoongi your full support as he is recovering from this accident!
In first year Scorpius looks small and nervous in his school photo, but there’s a little hint of excitement. He’s at Hogwarts after all. The photo him keeps ducking his head, shy and anxious, avoiding eye contact, and tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. He is smiling though. His eyes are bright. He’s wearing his Slytherin uniform for the first time and he looks right in it. Like he belongs. Astoria gets the photo framed and puts it on her desk.
In second year he already looks a little older and more obviously happy. He sits up straighter. His hands twist in his lap, clutching his wand tightly, but he gives the camera a proper little smile. The second photo joins the first on Astoria’s desk.
His third year picture is awful, never to be spoken of again. He just looks empty and deeply sad. The portrait version of him curls away from the camera, hugging himself, looking off somewhere into the distance. He keeps wiping his nose on his sleeve and it’s like he’s trying to avoid the whole world. That photo is never framed or put anywhere. They try to pretend it doesn’t exist.
In fourth year his photo is non-existent. Either he was away breaking into the ministry at the time they were taken, or it’s lost to another timeline, but he doesn’t mind much that it’s missing. If it was taken in another timeline he probably looks horrifically miserable anyway.
His fifth year photo is of him grinning. His new prefect badge shines on his chest. He holds his head high. His eyes are bright and shining, and for the first time he looks truly, deeply, genuinely happy. It’s one of Draco’s favourites and he keeps one copy on his desk and another copy on the mantelpiece in the library.
In sixth year he isn’t grinning. There’s more a deep sense of contented satisfaction to his smile. He looks a bit intense and thoughtful, definitely older. For some reason his photo self spends an awful lot of time adjusting his tie, or shifting the position of his wand, but not in a way that suggests he’s unhappy or uncomfortable. It just comes from the fact he can never sit still. He’s glowing. Fully okay. It’s the first one Scorpius keeps for himself. He started collecting photos that year, it’s slipped inside the front of the album, along with Albus’s photo from that year.
Seventh year is the best one. His head boy badge has now replaced his prefect one. He’s clearly trying to look serious and befitting the position, back straight, head up, expression focused and fixed, but his photo self keeps being distracted by someone beyond the camera and laughing. Bright, glorious laughter, completely unrestrained, like he can’t even hope to contain it. Draco knows better than to assume it’s anyone other than Albus his son is laughing at. He gets the photo framed properly and hangs it on the wall next to a picture of Astoria who is also laughing. They look so similar, both lit up with mischievous, glowing happiness. Whenever Draco glances at those pictures on the wall it makes him smile.
To say that Atsushi was surprised…was an understatement.
In fact, he was far too shock to even recognize the mixture of feelings dwelling up inside his chest, throbbing, aching, shouting. It had only been a few minutes since his mind registered the soft yet broken sound lingering around his ears, though the pain in his heart felt like it had always been there from the very beginning. The white-haired teen felt himself shaking, losing his breath even—and all he could do was stare at the young man, his mind as blank as ever.
Beside him, Akutagawa was burying his face on the palm of his hands. A few hiccups escaped his lips, followed by string of coughs, but to Atsushi it sounds more like an excuse to try to hide the sobs coming out from his own mouth. From his view, the detective could not see the tiny droplets of tears soaking the other’s pale face, or how it painted his cheeks in an inartistic portrait. The muffled sobs he heard was heartbreaking enough that Atsushi thought he’d break down as well if he saw the other unclasp his hands from his face.
It wasn’t the first time Atsushi saw him had nightmare, and he’s certain it would be far from the last. And though he had seen him struggling to forget loads of bad dreams in the past, that was the first time he saw Akutagawa cry, show vulnerability in front of someone he had considered a rival before all these secret meetings ever happened.
Atsushi didn’t even know how it all started—or how his supposed enemy Mafioso became his lover after declarations of hatred and promised revenge. All he knew was that one day, Akutagawa let him see past his stoic face and nonchalance, lips against lips in a comforting rhythm he allowed himself to listen to. And though they might be in different sides of values, or even grew up believing different versions of what’s right, their hearts still beat for each other’s name and maybe, that was all that mattered—for now.
Akutagawa inched closer to his lover, prying his hands away from his eyes. He snuggled his face over the other’s chest, seeking for certain comfort he’d been yearning for ever since the night chased the sun away. The white-haired male wrapped his arms around the other’s waist in retaliation, whispering soft promises to his skin in the fortress of their shared futon.
The former tipped his head back, revealing his swollen eyes for Atsushi to see. Black irises slowly rose to meet heterochromatic ones, silently pleading him to tell him everything’s going to be okay, that there’s still something human inside him.
He held his hands.
“You’re still with me, Akutagawa. I’m here for you, okay?”
He kissed him on the forehead.
“Your scars will remain scars, you can’t erase them. They’re a part of you and the only thing you can do is prevent them from ruining what you are now. It’s going to be okay, trust me.” A smile appeared on his face, on normal occasions it would have been returned with equal fondness from his lover, yet today was not the day. Instead, Akutagawa snapped—creating some distance between them.
“How can you say everything’s going to be okay?!” Ironic. Because just a minute ago, he’d been dreading for Atsushi to say those exact words. “You don’t understand. Unlike you, I’m unwanted. Nobody cares about me.”
His face broke into a laugh, bitter tears spilling from his black orbs in queue. For a moment, Atsushi wondered whether he said the right words or if he just made it worse. He clenched his fists, enough to draw crimson red from his palms.
“You received Dazai-san’s acknowledgement effortlessly. One thing I’ve always wanted, yet…I’m still here. Still too far for him to see.” He closed his eyelids, feeling the liquid warming up his entire body. He might be powerful, but he’s still a human. He might be nonchalant, but he’s still a human. He might be considered heartless, but he’s still a human. He might be a Mafioso, but he’s still a human.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is a human, yet he’s a monster to people’s eyes.
A monster, undeserving of love.
“I wish I can take your pain away. I really do.” Atsushi whispered, burying his head on the former’s torso. There it is again, his soft voice soothing the rage within Akutagawa, something touching his stoned heart. He’d always been weak for Atsushi, always searching for the warmth only the man-tiger could provide. Their hands locked together as if they had done the same thing a million times before. Through the touch, they burned—though they can never pull away.
“You told me my past doesn’t have anything to do with me anymore, right? The same could be said to you. You have to let go, Akutagawa…” He breathed the other’s scent. “Let go, and I’d be here to catch you.” The detective promised.
The tears escaped once more, accompanied by the red tint on his cheeks.
“I love you. You know that, right?” Atsushi‘s voice held sincerity, and wasn’t that the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard?
He met his lips on a chaste kiss then, breathing nothing but each other’s honesty. He touched his cheeks tenderly, sweeping away his bangs to tuck behind his ears. Everything seemed beautiful, perfect even—and in their own little world, nothing existed but the two of them staring at each other affectionately. No past, no Dazai-san, just Atsushi and Akutagawa in the confines of their love and comforting words.
Atsushi fell asleep just a few beats after the exchange. He ran his his fingers through the other’s fluffy hair, feeling the soft tendrils tickling the palm of his hands. His warm breath touched the bridge of his nose, easing, calming.
And maybe outside their shared bedroom, there were wars. There might be people fighting for their lives, or struggling to find the home they never had. Someone out there might even be getting himself drunk, waiting for his lover to come back, but really, who cares? As the past may continue to hurt the both of them, or how ghosts chase him in the dimness of his existence, he knew. He knew Atsushi would always be there for him—and no amount of scars was going to change that.
“Good night, Atsushi.”
And in that moment, Akutagawa prayed Atsushi will be forever his.
NOTE: So here’s my contribution for the Akuatsu week, Day 3: Recovery! Um, I hope you guys like it and I’m so so so sorry for how shitty this is. //hides
His name is the first thing Cas says when Lucifer is gone and he has regained control over his own voice. It sounds strange to his own ears, as though during the weeks he was absent, his body has forgotten what he sounds like.
Dean is clinging to him fiercely, arms around his back, fingers of one hand digging into his side, fingers of the other grasping at the hair at the back of his neck. Dean is holding him up. Dean is holding onto him so tightly that he thinks it should hurt, but he barely even feels it.
Everything feels fake, like he’s watching it on an old TV, like he’s trying to pick up images and sounds and sensations through the static. Dean is holding onto him and he’s saying, “You idiot. You goddamn idiot.” His voice keeps catching and breaking. Must be bad reception, Cas thinks.
Chanyeol wakes up around four in the
morning, just like every other morning.
shadow of an annoying beeping sound still echoes in the drums of his ears even
though they got rid of that pesky alarm clock years ago. Both of them deemed it
unnecessary to keep one since Chanyeol’s body clock has already been set at the
same time. Not only is Chanyeol far more effective but this new arrangement
also lessens the chances of mini morning heart attacks.
The rain’s grumbles weakens his will and
lulls him back to the comforts of his spit soaked pillow but he sets aside
sleep in lieu of blending today’s coffee. And waking up Baekhyun.
This is based on an old sketch of his, and it’s normally 128x128
I don’t usually post pixel art to this blog but my pixel art blog is old and dead and has a terrible url
I really hope that Tumblr won’t mess this up
this is actually extremely incomplete; there’s barely any shading (and the shading that does exist is odd and inconsistent) and there lots of things I’m thinking of changing (like the neck-wing on my left and the cheek spike on my right; they’re not fully consistent, and whatever’s going on with his ears)
though I’m actually rather proud of how well this extremely limited colour palette (15 colours!) works…
@hyunguponew asked: *whispers into the void* Ravi nightmare expansion
A/N: Ok my friend, I did the best I could with the specter of your immense talent looming over my shoulder. Stop cringing, it’s true. I hope you like it and if you don’t, lie. :P
This is a drabble expansion of a reaction I wrote here.
Your cry of distress echoed in his ears even though you weren’t actually there to make a sound. Choking on his own ragged breaths Ravi sat up in tangled sheets. It had felt so real. Closing his eyes he could still see you thrashing in the water, calling out to him to save you. But he couldn’t move. Unable to do anything but watch, tears streaming down his face as you drowned. He ran a hand through sweat-slick hair. His throat felt sore and he remembered screaming your name at the top of his lungs. Shit. He hoped he hadn’t been too loud. Wouldn’t look good to wake the whole hotel.
Swiping his phone off the night stand beside him he fumbled to unlock it. It took a few tries. Ravi’s hands were shaking and he couldn’t get the right sequence. The square inch of his brain that was still rational knew you were home asleep but he couldn’t stop hearing your screams. He never, ever wanted to hear that in real life.
Finally gaining access the screen seemed extra bright as he pressed one to speed dial you. The fear scratched incessantly down his spine that maybe you had been hurt and somehow called out to him. Stranger things had happened he supposed. They show that kind of stuff on TV all the time. The point was, he was here, you were there and if something had happened to you he didn’t know what he’d do.
Why weren’t you answering the damn phone? Ravi knew you kept it near when he was away. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe you were dyi–
Your sleepy voice punched through his chest and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in minutes. “Babe? Baby are you ok?”
Something in his voice must have alarmed you because you sounded more alert. “Yeah, Rav. I’m fine. What’s going on?”
Tension fled his muscles as he tilted back onto the bed. His throat knotted and he knew if he tried to talk he’d lose it. Draping an arm over burning eyes he lay there trying to get himself under control.
“Ravi? Wonsik, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
It hadn’t been his intention to scare you. Clearing his throat he fought to keep his voice steady. “I’m fine, I promise. I just missed you.”
There was a moment of suspicious silence from the other end of the line. “That’s it? You’re calling in the middle of the night because you missed me? Nothing happened?” Your voice didn’t sound upset, just worried and he felt even worse for overreacting. But there was no help for it. What was done was done and he knew he couldn’t have made it through the rest of the night without knowing you were ok.
“I’m sorry I worried you. I just…needed to hear your voice.” Silence fell between you. The screams came back in his head and he shuddered. “Can you do something for me, please?”
“Can you,” he took a steadying breath, fingers tracing the edge of the sheet laying on his chest. “Can you just talk to me for a while?”
With his eyes closed he could almost pretend the slight chuckle he heard came from the same room. “Well that’s random. What do you want me to talk about?”
“Anything. Everything. I don’t care.”
He heard rustling as you presumably made yourself comfortable. You told him about your day. About the new restaurant you tried and how you thought he’d love it. The gifts for his sister’s birthday that were supposed to be from both of you that you’d picked out on your own. You always seemed to be pulling his ass out of the fire one way or the other.
As he listened a lassitude came over his body. He should warn you that he was about to fall asleep but he didn’t want to hang up. Ravi wasn’t ready to let you go in more ways than one. The last thing he heard was the soothing sound of your voice as he drifted off.
customer who ordered 12 baked cookies and as soon as barista got them all packed up he was like “no….no no no….no, absolutely not” and then put his phone up to his ear and left though he had already paid
man who ordered a hazelnut latte and then came back a few minutes later nearly in tears asking if this drink would make his date think he’s gay
man who would come in regularly and set up his laptop and speakers in the men’s washroom and would come out once in a while to order more food but then inevitably return to the washroom
ordered a cup of just the flavored cool lime syrup
shift supervisor who took a bucket of ice and dumped it on the floor while squatting over it and was like “haha im a canadian giving birth”
ordered multiple drinks, took a sip and then instantly tossed it in the garbage right in front of barista