#existent

[demonsealtoons]

Attempted Mike mignola’s style cuz of course he reminds me of hellboy, It took me so many tries to get the shading perfect.

Auuuuugh

[image2infinity]

Ritual meme thingy greenscreen

[minnadekanpai]

july 29th needs to HURRY UP!!!

[snogfairy]

Ed pushes him against the wall, hands closing around his throat like a vice, and Stede gasps. The shock tingles inside his body, but the pain is numb and far away.

There is no fear inside Stede. Maybe that is foolish, maybe he is blind to the threat, but it's Ed, he's finally back, he's made it, and this is Ed, in front of him, so close. Strangling him.

Well-- it's not the first time he's tried to murder him, is it? It's not the first time Stede has been mildly inconvenienced either. There's a fire inside Stede now, he can feel it, and it will take more than a little threat to choke it out.

After the initial shock there's only-- Joy? Delight? His eyes soften.

"Ed."

"Don't call me that." Ed's voice is dangerously low, rough in a new way, as if it's bleeding. "Can't you see?! This is the Kraken, this is me, and--"

"It's you, Ed, it's always you. I..."

Edwards hands close tighter around his throat, and Stede reaches up one hand, not to try and tear them away-futile as it were-but to gently settle his hand atop Eds, as if to hold it.

They're both trembling.

"It's always you. I'm sorry," he gasps for breath, but it won't come easy, "I'm sorry it took me so long."

He doesn't go on, doesn't specify, because he can't, because he means it all, all of it, he's been a fool, and he's choking, his vision begins to blur, and there's not enough time to say anything, everything he wants to... But suddenly: a rush of air. Ed's hands loosen, let him take that breath he so needed, before tightening again. But there's no real menace behind it anymore; his grip is weaker, the anger betrayed by hurt.

He can hear Ed take a deep breath, mirroring him, and he blinks, realizing he's closed his eyes. When he opens them he looks into inky depths, the smeared make-up, the mask that is slipping. Ed does not say a word. He doesn't have to.

It was just a moment, but the pain behind his eyes was enough to choke Stede in an altogether different way. It's a pain he can relate to, except-- he has caused this. This is his fault.

And still, he can feel the tears prickling inside his eyes, he can feel a desperate kind of desire cloud his mind. Pathetic. He can feel Ed pressed up against him, smell him, see him, and he is weak. Stede is still weak. He realizes this with anger, but he lets himself give into it. His breath turns into a sob. God Stede, stop crying. Be responsible. Be a fucking gentleman, you crybaby, isn't that what you want to be, little boy? Little lily-livered--

Ed would not say this to him, would he? But it's not Ed who's speaking, it's no one speaking at all, and Stede regains some composure. No, Ed would never say this at all. Not ever. Ed had seen him, and Ed had loved him, and he-- what had he given in return? He needed to tell him, just once, just hear himself speak the words... He brings his eyes up to meet Ed's.

Is he waiting?

Or is he, too, at a loss? After slamming him into a wall, after the rage, after the choking, does he too realize it? That he would never truly hurt Stede?

Not in the way Stede has hurt him.

When Stede opens his mouth, no words leave it. Instead, he leans forward, not far, not far at all, to close the distance between them. (Ed lets him.) It's saltwater and tears, and Ed's mouth is warm but still. Their lips brush, their breath mingles, and time has forgotten to go on.

But then life resumes and it is Ed now who pushes him back against the wall, but differently, it is Ed's lips who hungrily press against his, and the sound Stede makes is short of a whimper.

When Ed releases him, when he finally undoes the tightening vice of his hand and steps back, his eyes are wild. They are both disheveled, chests heaving in unison, and they stare at each other like men burned.

I love you, Stede wants to say, but the silence is too thick and he knows it is not the right time, not the right place, it is too much even for himself to bear. The words are stuck in his throat.

"Please leave," Ed says, and it is not angry but not gentle, it is desperate. Then, more resolute: "Go."

And Stede understands, has it not in him to protest (he deserves this, after all, he deserves everything) and after another moment begins to walk towards the door.

Once, just, he turns, and sees Ed staring, and when their eyes connect a million things pass between them. Stede opens the door.

Stone-faced, Izzy stands at call, ready to guide him back to his cot. To his prison cell.

He deserves that, too.

[tiefschwarzer-ozean]

Was ist bloß aus mir geworden? Mir ist auf einmal alles so egal geworden. Ich habe keine Meinung mehr zu alledem. Ich empfinde weder Wut, Traurigkeit noch Freude. Worte finden und Sätze bilden kann ich nicht mehr. Ich bin eine leere Hülle, die ziellos umherwandert. Nicht mehr zuhörend, nicht mehr sehend, nicht mehr denkend… und nicht mehr fühlend.

[jumpthensfall]

excuse me looking like i have been dragged through several bushes backwards but please look at how soft and lovely rosie is

[boundlessbounty95]

Ich würde am liebsten sagen, ich hätte dich nicht geliebt. Doch wann immer ich etwas höre oder sehe, was mir schlau vorkommt oder witzig oder verwegen oder gerissen oder traurig, dann denke ich zuerst, dass muss ich Florian erzählen. Und ich traue es mir kaum zu schreiben, aber seit du mir gegenüber erwähnt hast, es geht dir besser ohne mich, sind jetzt vier Jahre vergangen. Vier Jahre und ich kann dich einfach nicht aus meinem Hirn verbannen, egal was ich auch versuche. Was auch immer es ist, was du gesucht hast, mein Herz, ich bete inständig dafür, dass du es gefunden hast. Ich werd meines Lebens nicht mehr froh, wenn nicht