#(ohohoho!)

[den-aye-d]

Partaking with one's self.

Alt caption: find a man who'll look at you the same way Chilchuck looks at a bottle of ale 😌

[evilishei]

Yes yes yes! 💚🧡

[korereapers]

Don't forget: write Eddie feeding sick Jon 👀

It’s a rare occurrence, to say the least. His body starts feeling heavy, his limbs not responding to him anymore when he tries to keep working. A flask that shouldn’t be bubbling, a smell that should be putrid but just smells acrid, like cat piss.

Jonathan has to accept the inevitable. He is getting sick.

Still, he stubbornly tries to keep working, repeating the same formula, again and again, with varying results of… undeniable failure. He knows he has to stop when he almost throws the vessel against the wall, wrath filling him frustratingly, being built without him really noticing.

He sighs, trying to calm himself down. He can just try and lie down a little, let his eyes rest. Or, he could actually do the sensible thing and go upstairs, to his bed. Their bed. He sighs again, but for reasons he would never admit out loud. Not unless he is in a particular good mood, which he isn’t.

But yeah, going to bed. That would mean having to deal with Edward. Edward and his worried expression. Edward and his pampering. He gets tired only by thinking about it.

Still, he still has to be reasonable. Leave the subject in the basement, barely conscious, ragged breaths after Jonathan’s infamous treatment. He knows it’s bad, because he feels himself unable to feel joy when he looks at their eyes, bloodshot and blurred, tired of crying.

“Ah, don’t be sad. You’ll die soon, it will be over before you know it.”

He is pretty sure that they cannot hear him anymore, but he tries nevertheless. It’s not that he enjoys it when his victims die, but this time… well, it was bound to happen.

The stairs seem endless as he ventures upstairs, almost collapsing as soon as he gets to the living room. Edward is there, reading a book that Jonathan fails to recognize. He raises a dark eyebrow, Jonathan’s hands desperately gripping the table. He is pretty sure that he has a fever.

“You look like shit,” is everything Edward says, but he gets up nevertheless, offering him his arm and shoulder. And God, Jonathan would love to answer, but he is lucky he is still conscious, his ears burning, his head pounding. He inhales a little, the smell of Edward’s cologne filling his nostrils. It’s comforting, even. It’s home.

He doesn’t really register crashing against the bed. Suddenly the world becomes a little bit more comfortable, but everything feels heavy, and before he knows it, he is fast asleep.

Until he isn’t.

His nostrils feel a little clogged, but he still can smell… something. Something good. He realizes that he feels ravenous, so he opens his eyes with an expression that is probably a little too desperate, because Edward snorts slightly, a bowl of what seems to be warm soup between his hands.

So of course, Jonathan says the most reasonable thing.

“There is a dead body in our basement.”

Edward blinks slowly, his beautiful eyes shining in what seems to be disgust for just a second. It’s Jonathan’s turn to smile. He loves to creep him out.

“Okay, that’s a problem for later, I guess.”

This time, Jonathan laughs, his throat hoarse, his body tired, but he still does. That’s something he loves about Edward. He is a natural at making him laugh.

“Hey, be nice! I made soup for you.”

Jonathan is still smiling tiredly when he manages to speak.

“What kind of soup, if I may ask?”

It’s Edward’s turn to smile.

“That is, of course, the riddle you have to solve tonight.”

Jonathan groans, trying to sit up, his body failing him miserably. Edward laughs, one of his warmed up hands gently caressing Jonathan’s hair.

“Let me feed you.”

“What am I, a baby? Am I a baby, Edward?”

Edward purses his lips.

“Stop behaving like one, then. Eat. Sleep. Behave like a human being.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The soup turns out to be, unsurprisingly, incredibly good. Edward’s culinary talents shine even for the simplest things. And Jonathan may be no connoisseur, but the taste and warmth root into his body and heart as Edward keeps feeding him, spoon after spoon. He then realizes Edward wanted to do this. He wants to do this, and more, for him. He feels useful to Jonathan, he loves the attention he is getting, Jonathan’s approval.

He smiles mischievously, or well, as mischievously as someone being fed soup while sick can be.

“A penny for your thoughts, Jon?”

He loves the way his name sounds when Edward says it like that.

“Just thinking about the dead body,” he lies shamelessly. Edward makes a face, and sick or not, Jonathan considers that a win.

[wispisstillverybored67]

Is he fucking calling for Kirby?!

He is! He's lucid enough to scream for help!

[thrill-seeker-if]

So, your hand didn't get strained from writing that essay? It's funny how you can write entire books on your tumblr but never you know... your own book.

[waiting-on-a-dream]

(Winding thorns - One of Silver's chats)

Silver: We had a lab where we had to grow plants by infusing them with magic.

…It was really complicated.

(Aurora's wikipedia page)

Talents: Growing flowers with magic

[love-fireflysong]

∞

Still Here - Digital Daggers

"Make me a promise that

Time won't erase us

That we were not lost from the start"

[inkpens-coffee]

I had a dream where Maruki was a ballet dancer and now I can’t stop thinking about it