alrunemara

[alrunemara]

♡‧₊˚🕸 berta ‹𝟹 ∙ 🕷

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[alrunemara]

My friends and I used to do this thing where we'd dress up on a theme and go do something totally normal.

We dressed up as pirates and went bowling.

We dressed as vikings and went to the grocery store. The security guard told us we had to move our longship because it was illegally parked.

We dressed as Romans and went to Blockbuster. The staff chanted, "toga! Toga! Toga!" at us.

We dressed up all steampunk and went to the museum. Tourists kept taking our picture.

[alrunemara]

⚠️ mitsuhide route (rom end) spoilers! ⚠️

Note to self: Mitsuhide loses all cool when it comes to protecting the kitsune's wife... 👀 ✍🏻 📖

⚠�� general route spoilers below ⚠️

The moment around ch10 or so when Mitsuhide tells mc/Mai that he's been in love with her like right from the beginning and then she flashbacks and realizes their fake marriage wasn't so fake..... bro..... my HEART.... cutest shit 😭❤

[alrunemara]

Libraries save the world. And I'm not saying that just because I work at one.

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INSTAGRAM | YOUTUBE

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INSTAGRAM | YOUTUBE

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INSTAGRAM | YOUTUBE

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INSTAGRAM | YOUTUBE

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Horrorfest: Summer Storm [Yandere Summer Spirit x Reader]

Title: Summer Storm [Yandere Summer Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: You had forgotten what he was. Now you remember.

For Horrorfest request: –“Let's talk, you and I. Let's talk about fear.” –Stephan King, “Night Shift.” And I think this one would be pretty good for your Summer spirit, in a moment of terrifying clarity! Like he's not flippant or playing around/indulging you right now he's serious.

Word count: 600ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

“What would you do, if I left you?”

The question had been asked so stupidly, so carelessly. Not because you were unaware of the weight of it, but because you thought he would brush it off, and you could force yourself to brush it off, for at least another summer. 

You thought he would laugh and smear the white globs of sunscreen he sometimes produced from thin air onto your nose; you thought he would push you into the ocean, or find a crab along the beach and threaten you with it.

You thought those things because you had forgotten.

You had forgotten what he truly was, in the lazy haze of those endless summers. He had become lost in the refreshing breezes cutting through the heavy shimmering air, in the taste of melting popsicles on his lips as he kissed you, and kissed you. Lost in the laughter as he pulled you through another season, hot summer grass tickling your legs, saltwater sticking to your skin. 

But you remember now. You see him now, sitting next to you, even though he has his sand covered legs pulled up to his chest as he might have on any other summer evening spent on the beach.

“What… did you say?” You ask, even though you know the answer. It’s an answer that cut through the hot hazy fog of your brain and reminded you that the man in front of you was no man at all.

He tilts his head towards, eyes gazing forward, the color of them now the awful gray-green of a summer storm. You want him to repeat it–you don’t want him to repeat it. But he must, and he will; both of you agree upon this without saying a word. 

He doesn’t sneer as he speaks. Doesn’t gloat, doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t loom over you or speak in dark growls of a dime novel villain. He merely states a simple fact, spoken into the hot evening as easily as any pleasantry you’ve shared before. 

“I would destroy every crop in the country. I would see to it that there is no summer harvest. I would wither everything that dares to bloom in autumn. I would see them all starve come winter and I do not yet know if I would have enough pity for you by the next summer to let anything be picked even then.”

The words join the fireflies beginning to dot the horizon, flickering in your heart in the dying evening sunlight. Unlike the fireflies, the words will still be there by morning, a permanent scythe hanging above your head.

Hanging above the heads of the people you loved–and the people you didn’t. People you didn’t know. Children who had been born since he took you away, some of them perhaps relatives, nieces and nephews that you’ll never hold. 

Innocents, not-so-innocents. People who would starve and wither like the crops, if he willed it.

If you willed it, you think, abruptly–and not without the thought catching something dark inside your chest. That same dark part that had not quite forgotten what summer could do, if it wanted.

“But I won’t leave you,” is your answer, a forced lightness to it; a forced breeze of your own, as artificial as the electric fans he sometimes shows you. “I was–I was only asking. To see what you would say.”

His eyes remain storm-gray for a few moments longer, and then he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Calming himself down, you think, letting the storm ebb away into some other world, some other season.

“I sometimes forget,” he admits, smiling in a way you don’t want to understand, “how often people ask things they’d rather not know.” 

A firefly lands on his knee; it glows, then it doesn’t. 

[alrunemara]

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This is Gilbert. He’s been around a while. Attributes his long life to many, many years of always getting what he wants

[alrunemara]

18/10 Hot

[alrunemara]

Computer. Iris by the goo goo dolls. Loud enough to kill.

[alrunemara]

‘bread is bad for you’ ‘rice is bad for you’ sorry im not subscribing to the idea that staple grains that have been integral to cultures for centuries are evil. i love you carbs

[alrunemara]