#But that feeling I'm describing is nothing like the grief of losing someone

[huskyluvr]

Never leaving this site

why are americans obsessed with the word grief everyday i feel like i am closer to reading something like "no one talks about the unborrowed grief of never going to parties"

[loveundrwrld]

came back yandere - undead yandere x reader

(content warnings: death, mentioned cannibalism, some minor gaslighting stuff from the yandere)

if someone had asked you if you could bring anyone back from the dead, there’s only one answer that you would pick. your dearest, closest childhood friend leon, who you lost when you two were just starting off college together.

you were completely broken by the tragedy and decided to move away from your hometown to transfer to a new school. you wanted to start all over, to put the loss out of your mind. 

when you come back to visit your hometown after graduating. . . you feel as if you are losing your mind. it feels like you are seeing him everywhere. even though you know it’s impossible.

eventually, one day, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you follow him. you want to see for yourself if you’re going mad, or if the friend you keep seeing out of the corner of your eyes is really there. despite knowing it’s hopeless, you desperately want any chance of seeing him again.

you actually end up bumping into him as he stops unexpectedly- he noticed you following him, and, to your surprise, he’s real. not an illusion that your desperate, grief-riddled mind came up with, but a real, solid man. one that looks exactly like the friend that you have lost. 

unbeknownst to you, to him, you're just a passing curiosity, an odd person who's been watching him from time to time while he was walking to the graveyard to sneak in a little snack.

you politely apologize and excuse yourself, but he smiles, unbothered, and lets you explain yourself.

he knows while you tell him about leon, about how much you care for this friend of yours, that he cannot possibly match the person you are describing in anything except appearance. he remembers nothing at all about his life, but he's never cared about anything except himself before in the short life he knows. there is no way that could be him.

but, he sees the desperation in your eyes, and the love that you have for this person who shares his face. and suddenly he's hit with a kind of hunger he's never remembered having before.

he’s suddenly overwhelmed with a vicious, overpowering desperation that matches your own. to have your love, the love that this leon had lost.

he knows now that he will take that love from you. no matter what he has to do.

“i'm leon,” he lies. “i’m so sorry you’ve missed me.”

over time you spend more time together, wanting to be closer to the friend you once knew. and he goes above and beyond, being the most sweet, considerate friend you’ve ever had. even kinder to you than he ever was before. 

he doesn’t spend any time at all with his friends and family, but that’s ok because he’s making up lost time with you, right? it’s not strange at all that he would want to spend all of his time around you, knowing how depressed you were after he died. and sure, he won’t talk about his death or his mysterious reappearance at all, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to disturb you with any depressing details. it’s not that he’s keeping secrets.

if you notice that he’s acting any differently . . . he immediately changes what he does, going back to how you say he used to act. if you express any confusion on his preferences changing . . . well, there’s always a reason for that, with him.  what, he used to hate watching horror movies? well, he was just going along with what you wanted to do, he was just being polite.

he’s your best friend, just like you wanted . . . he’ll be anyone you want him to be.

[mlbigbang]

2023 Adrinette Fic Rec List

It’s the end of the year which means it’s finally time for the ML Big Bang’s yearly fic rec lists! We’re really excited to bring you our contributors’ favourite fics started this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you’re waiting for the Big Bang fics’ publication in January.

Fate, Destiny... A Hamster by @mostmagical

After finally moving into his very first apartment per Ladybug’s suggestion, Adrien discovers something no movie or TV show could have ever prepared him for: someone else's hamster. Marinette was so excited to have her first pet. If only it would stop escaping! At least now there’s an excuse to talk to the new neighbor. (Adrinette Never Met AU)

This fic is peak adrinette identity shenanigans! Adrien and Marinette star as the next door neighbors losing and finding the titular hamster, falling in love, and avoiding an identity reveal like the plague.

If I Let Myself Love You by @uptoolateart

It’s hard to be a normal girl with a normal life when your mother has terminal cancer. And when fashion model Adrien Agreste moves back to Paris and wants to be Marinette’s friend – or maybe even more – her life is turned upside down again. How can she risk opening her heart to love when her whole world is falling apart? Especially when Adrien is hiding a dark secret of his own…. - COMPLETE FIC – updates on Sundays *** No kwamis AU - 100% Adrinette. About half of it is fluffy and half heavy. Please read tags for trigger warnings. ***

It is such an incredible balance of beautiful, heart-wrenching and funny! I adored the relationship between Adrien and Marinette, how it developed throughout, how natural it was, how they both helped each other through their grief. Just beautiful.

hearth by @asukiess

Because how do you describe a dream once you wake up, when it’s fleeting and slipping through the cracks in your mind like it’s a sieve? You can barely wrap your lips around the concepts and words before you realize it has slipped through like water, and what lay in your hands is just a pang in your chest? When every moment away from it clouds your mind just a little more, until the memories are threadbare? or: Adrien understands what it means to have a home.

call it even by @sha-nwa & @anna-scribbles

After a year of dating, there is one thing Marinette knows for certain: it's her and Adrien against the world. Through it all, Adrien is kind, patient, and endlessly understanding—even as she tries her best to keep her secret superhero identity hidden from him along with the rest of the world. Nothing could ruin it, not even the supervillains of Paris: Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. (adrinette dating // ladynoir enemies au)

A really well-written Adrienette fic featuring Ladynoir as enemies.

All the Missing Pieces by @uptoolateart

At 14, Adrien stepped into the time burrow and saw the truth no one could have guessed. When he came out, he was changed forever. And after defeating his father, he was finally free...or was he? At 37, Adrien has everything he ever dreamed of – married to Marinette, three kids, the hamster – but none of it has turned out as expected. Marinette’s career is such a success that she’s never home, Hugo is an angsty difficult teenager, and Adrien is still struggling with his secret identity as a sentimonster. And now, Lila Rossi is back after more than 20 years. But has time changed her? Or is she up to her old tricks?

It's my actual life (except I'm not good looking lol), and I vouch for how WILDLY accurate its treatment of the emotional issues of stay-at-home-dad stuff. I just cannot recommend highly enough how it handles jealousy, isolation, parenting struggles, etc. Not me in the comments every chapter telling the author how she got the feels so perfectly right.

If I Let Myself Love You by @uptoolateart

It’s hard to be a normal girl with a normal life when your mother has terminal cancer. And when fashion model Adrien Agreste moves back to Paris and wants to be Marinette’s friend – or maybe even more – her life is turned upside down again. How can she risk opening her heart to love when her whole world is falling apart? Especially when Adrien is hiding a dark secret of his own…

So absolutely sweet. So emotionally devastating. Gets meta by taking advantage of how AO3 works at one point. Next level in every way. I loved the developing Adrienette friendship. I loved Marinette and her father. I loved Marinette's feelings about her sick mother. Please everyone read this fic your face will melt with emotion, and you weren't really using your face, were you?

Our Tales are Endless (That's Why I Tell Them) by joonapeach

Marinette lives a simple life - one surrounded by pretty dresses, fresh macaroons, and the calming view of Paris. It's a life she thinks she has always fit in. And yet sometimes, when a certain boy comes by her shop with a flower and a new adventurous story, she can't help but wonder if there's something else she's missing.

you don't even know me at all (but i was made for loving you) by @ladyofthenoodle

They didn’t remember each other. The hospital told them there’d been an accident—brain damage—but Alya had told them the truth, later. Who’d they’d been to each other. What they’d given up, and why. But even with their memories of each other gone, Adrien and Marinette are still inextricably tied together—by law, by their social circles, and by their hearts. And in the apartment they share, there's only one bed.

If you like amnesia AUs, angst with a happy ending, married adrinette, and only one bed scenarios, you need to read this fic! It's beautifully bittersweet and will break your heart before putting it back together.

[noahsresources]

HURT / COMFORT STATEMENTS THAT HIT ME RIGHT IN THE FEELS

pardon me please, i'm just having a moment. possible tw for suicidal ideation and references to death and loss. bonus points for specifying a scenario!

from those who are struggling. ❝ i never thought i'd ever make it this far. ❞ ❝ ... when were you going to tell me about this? ❞ ❝ i don't ever want you to die. please ... don't die ... ❞ ❝ we had our whole lives planned out. ❞ ❝ i just can't, it's too much. it's too fucking much. ❞ ❝ losing him/her/them was the cruelest thing i've ever experienced. ❞ ❝ people say things like, 'you're going green with envy', or 'there's smoke coming out of your ears'. you think they'd come up with a statement like that that describes someone who's in constant pain like this ... ? ❞ ❝ sometimes you need to make room for grief. make time for it. embrace it. it's all i've been doing as of late. ❞ ❝ how is it possible to hurt this much when nothing's wrong? ❞ ❝ drowning in sadness is more fulfilling than drowning in pleasure these days. ❞ ❝ it's hard to let go of the fact that i'm probably going to outlive everyone else in my life. ❞ ❝ i've already lost everything near and dear to my heart. everything except for you. ❞ ❝ i'm just so tired. i just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. ❞ ❝ i was so close to giving up once. ❞ ❝ i don't want him/her/them to die alone. i'd never forgive myself. ❞ ❝ please, don't go ... i just need to feel your arms around me ... ❞ ❝ there's a reason why i hide my emotions locked in a metal cage so deep in my heart. it's so i won't get hurt like this again. ❞ ❝ i've always had to deal with these kinds of things alone. i don't need your help. ❞ ❝ it was my fault. i did this to him/her/them ... ❞ ❝ i can't even see my future anymore. i don't want to. ❞ ❝ there's no way i could possibly be this important to you. ❞ ❝ if i lose him/her/them, then there'll be nothing else for me to live for. ❞ ❝ i don't see a point anymore. in going on, i mean. ❞ ❝ time won't slow down. it never does. i had to learn that the hard way early on. ❞ ❝ go away ... please, just go away. ❞

from those offering support. ❝ ... i'm sorry. i'm so, so fucking sorry that you had to lose him/her/them. ❞ ❝ it wasn't your fault. you did everything you could. ❞ ❝ just remember they'll always be in your heart. ❞ ❝ i don't know what to say to make you feel better, but ... i'm here for you, if that means anything. ❞ ❝ believe it or not ... i know how you feel. i've been through this exact same thing. ❞ ❝ he/she/they loved you. he/she/they loved you so much. trust me ... i know. ❞ ❝ you're not alone. i promise you, you're not alone. ❞ ❝ don't worry, i'll stay. i'm not going anywhere. ❞ ❝ you've been through so much ... be kind to yourself. please. ❞ ❝ it's okay to cry. you don't have to hide your emotions around me. ❞ ❝ you don't have to talk to me. hell, you don't even have to look at me. but, please ... give me a sign that you're hearing what i have to say. ❞ ❝ please ... don't tell me that you'd choose to spend eternity up there with him/her/them over an eternity with me ... ❞ ❝ you're grieving. it's an understandable reaction. but you should rest. you've been overexerting yourself far too much lately. ❞ ❝ the man/woman/person who you lost, who loved you ... he/she/they wouldn't want to see you doing this to yourself. ❞ ❝ crying is your body's way of telling you that you've been keeping everything in for way too long. so let it out. you're safe here. ❞ ❝ sadness is like an ocean. sometimes we drown in it, but other times, we're forced to swim in it. ❞ ❝ as long as i'm here, you'll never not have anyone ever again. ❞ ❝ i hope you know that you can talk to me about anything at all. share anything you need to get off your chest. i'm here for you. ❞ ❝ love is often felt the most in your favorite memories. honor him/her/them by remembering all the happiness he/she/they gave you. ❞ ❝ if you don't feel strong right now, then you don't have to be strong. it's okay to be vulnerable, weak, scared, and sad. ❞

[madstronaut]

word-tasting aka literary synaesthesia 101

when I tell you some of the best writing I've ever read are these promptfill drabble fics spurred by nothing but a few key words? this must be the closest equivalent of IRL witchcraft because damn! absolute magic in the kitchen with these challenges I would watch 24 seasons straight no breaks of cook-off competitions feasting solely off seasonal drabbles and prompt&challengefills alone that I've read across this hellscape

I have been meaning to go through some of my latter moots' works and this unusual omegaverse ficcy by syo absolutely arrested me

I actually started writing this little ramble back in August but due to some IRL loss/sad anniversaries of late, put a pin in it to resume ranting (affectionate) later and THE TIME IS NIGH folks

Reading: reminiscent by @syoddeye

ah where to even start? this brought out such a viscerally emotional reaction in me as I happened to be reading it during several very different seasons, namely - horny (before), grieving (after), acceptance (now). I will not elaborate further, yall know the drill.

During grieving I had a hard time recalling how excited I was in the before (I originally wrote 'when I was horny' and laughed my ass off) about all that this fic made me feel because in so many ways the emotions became too real for me instead of cathartic - I only say this as the highest of compliments to sy as a writer, tbh, as I feel a fic that makes me emote or gets a strong response/reaction out of me is high prose/praise in my book

sy has a way of writing to really not just bring our favorite broken boys to life but really let you walk in their skin, feel what they feel, see what they see, so to speak -

It takes a second. Simon shoots a look at Soap to silently convey incredulity, but he might as well take a blade to the neck. The seat across from him is empty. Before memory strikes, he’s on his feet,

my GOD the whiplash here is so, so familiar - just that raw grief of having those familiar habits built around someone being ripped away

The room reeks of damp earth and pine, a hearth in a lonely, snowed-in cabin. It gathers the force of an avalanche, pummeling into him and stealing his breath. It settles an invisible weight on his chest and limbs. Buried to his neck in memory, he forces himself to move. He’s dug himself out of the ground before. He’ll do it again.

I can smell this sentence and it smells like a masterpiece. I am not as eloquent as sy is here with their words but if that "buried to his neck in memory" line was a snack it would probably be those melt in your mouth non-chew luxury chocolates they sell at the seasonal bryant park holiday market that I buy and stash away so I can savor it slowly and greedily without sharing it

The days pass, surreal yet sharp and excruciating, as if he’s a surgical patient and the anesthesia didn’t take.

yes. this is too real. I described a grief season before as having my eyelids cut off and having to crying constantly to keep seeing - and to keep myself from seeing. I cried reading this sentence, because it made me feel seen. 100/10

I have a soft spot for omegaverse stories but I love this one in particular for all that it typically isn't - what happens if you lose a mate you never bonded with? how do you navigate the reality of what is really a horrific world if you get down to the tacks of what being so driven by instinct could really entail? what could CoD Omegaverse really be like if we just stopped being horny for like two sec- (can you tell I'm a sucker for AUs)

It gnaws and bites like flies to see former friends turn their noses up at you. Cracks and shifts your insides, uncovering anger as old and boiling as a deep-sea vent.

I am feasting on the angst here. how do you do it sy?! make pictures and scents and sounds and sensations of real memories?! an absolute masterchef of wordsmithing

He just lets you wail. In retrospect, it’s clear that he swapped a cudgel for a knife. Dissected your rage with a mind trained to defuse explosives.

once again, CoD writer characterizations are 😘👌 I think often of the roles given to johnny to fill both in the in-game lore/canon and in the myriad of amazing fics out there and the ones I love best are the ones that seem to really embody his spirit - even when the fic will deviate from canon details - and also honestly, seeing how much the writer loves and sees the character by how they're fleshed out through their eyes/writing - if you've ever seen a portrait of someone and noted the differences/touch-ups, only to realize you are seeing the person as the artist is seeing them - quite a similar experience I had reading this

The tide’s out, and you stand on shore, waiting for the crushing grief.

😭😭😭 once again noting reading this felt at turns raw and cathartic. incredible

The portrait of your best friend bears witness from atop the mantle. In uniform with a buzzed head and a serious expression, it’s him, yet nothing like him... As Johnny followed your parents into death, you’re left alone, subject to the whims and mercies of an aunt who sees only your designation. 

It's him, yet nothing like him.... *MW3 flashbacks*

also still entertaining a fanciful urge to write a small dissertation as a/b/o designation as allegory for going through life as female-presenting and/or oppressive societal/gender expectations-

Your nostrils flare at his vinegariness, the feeler he sends to test the waters

i fucking love that line. VINEGARINESS! truly feel this is what creepy would smell like

Familiar, somehow, and powerful... Citrus wrinkles your nose, beckoning you to relax.... Instincts like cicadas, buried to avoid that which would exploit them, dig their way out of the ground.

Cedar and myrrh, stone and soil—a burst potent enough to cow the eldest member of your family, forcing her to retreat a step. This close, your nose finds the word it was looking for. Sepulchral.

I read with baited breath anticipating simon and sister's meeting. unfffh physically shivered at how good these lines were. the angst! the suspense!

You refuse an obligatory invitation-

HAHAAHAHAHAHA i am also obsessed with the sister in this fic

also I learned the word spoor reading this fic and I have the biggest crush on fics that make me learn/look up new words (looking at you, yeyinde-)

Simon cloisters for two days. His scent returns to normal, slowly rolling over the house like a thick fog.

beginning to wonder if the sister has synaesthesia but in a/b/o - I actually had a friend in college who had synaesthesia (you would NEVER peg him as such, he was like a very chill buttoned-up finance/tax bro but once we coaxed this detail out of him he talked about how the word 'and' always felt 'purple' to him and he casually noted things like "you smell pink" or "you look blue/silver" - that last one he said of me which was very puzzling lol)

As if the house needs another ghost. 

me, reading this line:

The floor creaks under his foot, but he stops the second you tense. You hold the makeshift cold compress in place and apply pressure. Another stilted silence passes, and you catch a whiff of citrus. Simon’s eyes snap to you. “She’s cracked the case,” his hand creeps toward yours, giving you time to let go before he steals the compress and pulls away.

if this is not the most simon of simon things to do... obsessed with this grieving meek gentle giant

I love the made-up science of a/b/o and the backbending logic leaps fanfic writers do to create the wonderful word of sex pollen and heats and ruts and etc. but the hyperosmia...a new level of a/b/o horror!!! gah i loved this

All the scent blockers in the world cannot deter the repugnant or unscrupulous.

ah yes, when a/b/o is still rooted in reality in many ways...

It’s difficult to keep a straight face as Johnny scruffs the stranger, bringing him to heel. Your brother compels the miscreant to apologize and then sets him loose, satisfied he’s neutered the man.

it is a fact of life, i will be attracted to all shades of johnny canon and fanon - also the use of 'scruff' and 'neuter' here is just 😘👌

But has it ever occurred to you that I might want someone? That maybe this isn’t just about your life? That being saddled with you isn’t easy?

ugh this was so hard to read because i feel like as an eldest sibling it has stripped a very raw part of that part of me naked when reading this. i hate sometimes how painful it is to unleash inside thoughts in emotional moments, both for the speaker and listener. 100/10 writing once again

The impulse to apologize and flee attempts to puppet you,

unffffff how to word this? this is true for me in all the seasons i've re-read this so far - i find it ultimately incredibly cathartic to see these uncomfortable sensations and feelings put to paper. and yes i am gonna keep rating sy's writing 100/10 throughout this ramble, no one can stop me

Simon pokes through the shirt, face blank and mouth shut. Soap’s chewing on something. Rather, something’s chewing Soap.

hahahahaaha i loved this mental image

“No, you’re shutting me out. Goin’ away.” “‘I’m right here.” Soap frowns tiredly. “Why don’t you want to come? Meet my sister?”

i love how generally speaking soap is universally seen as very adept at reading the room/sensing emotions - we stan a self-aware king✨

“I want to be.” It’s not a whine; it’s hardly a complaint. It’s a statement of fact delivered with resignation.

🥺🥺🥺 yes this also made me cry lol, 10000/10

Simon admires the droop of Soap’s dark eyelashes on his skin and even breathing. Closest thing to heaven he’ll ever see, he thinks. 

i love secret romantic simon

Soap’s arm tightens its hold as he slightly flares his scent, a plume of woodfire as inviting as his words.

hmmmmm that's where simon learned it from

Soap can’t pin him on the sparring mat, but he can with a look. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.” To you. Doesn’t have to mean anything to you.

if it were an ao3 tag i would favorite 'mutual unfulfillable pining'

But poking through the thick, funereal brume is juniper and pine. The hours preceding heavy snowfall. It’s an odd combination, grounding and sharp, petrous and serene. A graveyard in the dead of winter.

once again absolutely shivering at all the synaesthesial descriptions. I can see these smells!!!!!!!!! also +2 for having me look up brume and petrous

The mirth bleeds from his eyes. “No, I’m realistic. Something funny in the MacTavish line. Fucking dreamers, the two of you. Wanting things you can’t have.”

screeeaaaming

He wordlessly moves so you can slide the lemon bars into the heat. You inhale deeply, drinking in the tart citrus as a palate cleanser, and shut the door.

i find it interesting the sister is baking treats that are citrusy, the scent associated with relaxation 🍋

Still. It crowbars a smile out of you. Reminds you of Johnny.

crowbars a smile- 🥹🥹🥹 a whole movie scene in a single verb, mwah mwah sy need to re-up my infinite supply of chef's kisses that are running low because of this fic-

also the very subtle song and dance of the second story being told through their scent interactions is once again just 😘👌

“She’s just late.” “Like Soap, then.” Price‘s posture is confident and easy. He’s handling this better than the sergeant. “Better.”

aWWWW SIMON YOU BIG-ASS SOFTIE YOU Even in death, his sergeant’s a solid bridge. The foundation of a fucked up home.  A familiar blend of heather and rain draws his attention to the entrance. In his chest, something settles. “It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

the ending here made me cry MULTIPLE times but all I'll say here is that as someone freshly and unexpectedly grieving, I found this fic supremely confronting, cathartic, and now comforting to see a world where broken promises can still be kept even after death and loss in its own way can still be transformed as a gift, even when you're unused to gifting - and receiving.

i wanted to write something more poetic and eloquent to honor the writing but all i will end with here is that this was supremely unique and beautiful and it is truly not even one of the most unique a/b/o fics but but one of the best pieces of writing I've seen across my many fandoms over the years... a billion kudos to you sy for this, and a special extra kudo for helping me in its own small way to navigate grief in the last few months 🫂🌱

[fairycosmos]

my ex girlfriend died a month ago. i've always found a lot of peace and recognition in what you've written about your grief but especially now, losing someone so young and who's bound to you in a different way than anyone else you've lost has been hits different and i get that now. she was 24. sending you lots of love and know that your presence on here has brightened my current darkness

i'm so so sorry to hear this. the one thought i consistently have about grief is that there are no adequate words to describe or comfort it, but still, i'm so sorry. i know exactly how unbearable it is, especially when it's still all so extremely raw and fresh. you just have no clue how you're going to get through it, and honestly you don't have to. focus on getting through minute by minute. this must be so awful for you and everyone who knew her - 24 is really no age at all. you're right, it's a very specific type of mourning. it's the hardest thing in the entire fucking world honestly. nothing really helps but if you can talk about it - whether it's with a friend, a grief counsellor, whoever - or write about it, then that sometimes enables you to process things a little more clearly. and with a smaller sense of loneliness. i sincerely hope you have good people around you who can help you through this, and that with time you're able to come up with small ways to honour her memory and keep her presence alive. at the moment i'm working on trying to find more ways to keep my sister around - like dedicating a plaque on a bench to her, and trying not to numb myself to the memories i have with her. which is hard, because it's so difficult to remember her. but i'm trying to keep her here and let her be felt everywhere, and i hope you find your version of that too. your ex was incredibly lucky to have been loved by you and you by her, and i'm glad you got to experience that, even if the inverse of that love is this. if you'd like to talk about her or discuss some of your favourite memories with her when you're ready, or even just talk about something entirely unrelated to the grief/her, please drop me a message any time. i'm glad me being open about my own grief has allowed you to find some sense of recognition and catharsis. i'm going to leave some resources for you to come back to as far as daily coping mechanisms go - they may be useful, they may not be, god knows they're certainly not a cure to the immensity of what you're going through - but they'll be there for you if you ever feel like you're truly at your wits end. sending so so much love back your way. i will be thinking of you and your ex girlfriend and keeping you both in my heart. x

bereavement and grief self-help guide / coping with grief and loss pdf / coping with grief pdf / healthy vs unhealthy coping mechanisms for grief / strategies to cope with grief / death is nothing at all by henry scott holland (a poem i come back to)

[shmowder]

sorry for spamming u with asks but seriously i’ve been binge reading ur recent stuff and i’m sitting here feeling so fuzzy and warm at the cute stuff and it’s distracting me from everything going on atm so thank u so so very much for that! I love how u characterize artemy and daniil, especially how u take their history and experience into account. it’s like i’m listening to someone describe a person they’ve known their whole life, really. and I am a sucker for angst/fluff combos so u got me there haha

speaking of angst: how would the healers react to the reader catching sand pest? esp if it’s their significant other?

lots of love, -🥀

Please don't apologise, your asks have been a delight <3

I'm happy you noticed how I approach their characterization! I take their past into full consideration since the game takes event on the worst two weeks of their life, the side we see of them is a new side they're discovering with us for the first time. the closest the game shows us to their real selves is how they act on Day 1 before the plague hits.

Especially Stakh who is overcome with grief, we could never see what kind of life he led before with Isidor, what kind of person he used to be, what his laughter must have sounded like.

-

The healers find out you've contracted the sand plague

Platonic or romantic for Artemy & Daniil, Clara's part is platonic. Angst.

-

Daniil

His first action is to gather every speck of strength in his body and keep up face, do not fail him now courage.

Do Not Panic. All his focus is immediately put to use to appear as noneffected as possible. He can't show it, not in front of you.

He must seem to be in control in this dire situation. Otherwise, seeing him lose his cool will make you panic, too.

As he sat you down to examine you, wearing his protective gear this time around, akin to a wall separating you two, Denial tugging at the back of his mind.

The pit in his stomach grew bigger, terror gnawing at his guts, hollowing his lungs and closing his throat around itself. The facts were as clear as day, your symptoms matched perfectly, you are infected.

Any progress on the vaccine is immediately halted, all the extra effort he went through to bring you the best of the best when it came to preventive measures, all the precautions he took were for naught and the worst possible scenario actually occured.

His hands are shaking, he busy them with holding something so you won't notice, his lips are trembling, so he looks away when talking to you.

He feels like he failed you–No he knows that he did, he is sure of it as a fact. How can he meet your eyes? He is too ashamed of his shortcomings even when he went above and beyond, he couldn't keep this one promise.

it's fixable, everything is. He will defeat this monster. He will find you a cure no matter the cost. Daniil has to stop himself from thinking about what could happen if he doesn't win, otherwise he'll suffocate.

A panacea, a shmowder, anything god please he will beg on his knees. Take his life, trade his life for yours.

But death is nothing but cruel.

He administers antibiotics to you twice a day, personally attends to you, and disinfects your living space as best as he can. You're under complete quarantine in one of the stillwaters rooms; the hospital is too crowded and risky for your state.

Daniil does his best to embody and play the role of the capable assured doctor. He doesn't hide the truth of your severe state from you, but neither does he show you a hint of panic or fear, he buries his emotions deep down and puts on a brave face in front of you.

When he talks about bringing you the cure, he states it as a matter of fact. It's a matter of when, not if. He will make sure you have it even if it's the last thing he'll do in his sorry life.

-

Artemy

The man is completely distraught, his natural grimce somehow deepens even more, the hardned look in his eyes falters as he scans you over, taking in every detail, desperately hoping you're wrong and this isn't what you claim it to be.

Then... anger.

You tell him not to come closer; he could get infected, it's too dangerous, but he pulls you towards him faster than you can react.

fists clenching against your clothes, head hanged low and buried into your shoulder. The gaint man completely unravels in front of you, akin to a sandcastle crumbling down by the merciless tides.

A storm of emotions brewing inside him, unspeakable rage, unbearable sadness and the pins and needles of exhaustion stabbing deeper into his bruised beaten heart.

Artemy holds you close, as if he can hide you from the world in his embrace. He presses you tightly against his chest as if he can slip you through his rib cage and directly into his heart, where you may remain safe and protected for eternity.

His grip is borderline bruising, he's forgetting himself, almost suffocating as it pushes the air out of your lungs. He's murmuring something, voice deep and rough, a prayer or an apology, maybe both. The steppe words come much more fluently, a thicker accent and faster than you can catch up with.

How drastic it is in contrast to the way he softly spoke to you before, slowly pronuncing each word in an attempt to teach you a phrase or two.

The coughing fit that followed from your end is what woke him up to the bitter reality.

Anger never quite fizzling out but kept under control, the despair in his pale eyes however only grew tenfolds.

Tracing his fingers against your face, you feel like a corpse under his scorching touch. You wonder if he looked at those bodies on the autopsy table the same, if he stroked their cheeks the same as he's currently lovely caressing yours.

The man was already broken. He barely had time to process the loss of his father, and then death comes and attempts to whisk you away from under his gaze?

As much as he wants nothing but to sit down with you and make the most of what could possibly be your only remaining days, he forces himself to pull away and stand up.

He knows how to make the panacea, he has already made one in fact but it... if only had he waited before testing it on himself.

He'll make another, he will find more blood, he will.

In the meantime, tinctures will have to substitute. They work even better than the pharmaceutical antibiotics he promises. Yes, the taste is bitter, but please drink it all up.

It's a miracle how Artemy doesn't contact the plague from how little regard he pays to keeping a distance from you, he still takes off his protective outside gear before touching you like he always did in the past as if nothing has changed.

He still sleeps in the same bed as you, hold you close to him at night... more closely than before. Soothe your back through your caughing fits and bring you water.

Increase your own food portions by giving from his own. He can handle the hunger, it's okay. You need to eat more, you need to stay warm and stay in bed... please just do this one thing for him.

The first thing he does after coming back from that dreaded night in the abattoir, body pulsing with pain, bruises aching all over his body, clothes drenched in blood both his own and from various others–is to quietly set your panacea to brew before waking you up.

Much like a wounded bull still standing at the end of the match, not a single hint of pain in those sunken eyes as blood trickles down his temple.

He doesn't wash, he refuses to leave you out of his sight for even a second as if death will steal you away just when he is so close to the final step.

You two share a meal, he barely touches his food, glancing between you and the brewery machine nearby. Watching the timer going down, refusing to surrender to exhaustion as every joint in his body aches and screams.

Artemy intertwines his fingers with yours, holding your hand and staying by your side. Just a little while longer, endure and survive a little while longer for him.

-

Clara

She can heal you, don't worry, don't cry, please just have faith in her. Look she really can do miracles! please look, look at her hands see? She can do it, she can.

Please... She can...

Her hand grip yours, her eyes are closed.

She knows she can do it, she already healed countless of people. It shouldn't be too hard for her so... why.

Tightly shutting her eyes even more as if it will stop the tears trickling down her cheeks.

She can do it! You don't understand, don't give her that look. She's not a liar, you should believe in her.

Why isn't it working? Why now of all times? Why when you were supposed to have faith in her abilities?

She trusted you of all people, how could you betray her like this.

Clara's fingers dig into your skin as she reattempts to apply her magic over and over again.

Her hiccups grow louder, weeping down as she grips with all of her force.

Nothing happens.

It doesn't take any effort to gently slide her hands away, to take her into your embrace and whisper thats it's okay.

You believe in her. You really do. It's okay. You're still proud of her despite it all, proud of everything she is. Gently reassuring this kid cringing to you that everything will be okay, that you won't ever ask the impossible of her.

That you'll lover her regardless, miracles or not, Clara will always be in your heart, a part of one family.

You hold her with the same tenderness one would with their little sister, you wipe her tears away and smile through the pain because you must be strong for her.

She is torn between running away or clinging to you more.

You weren't part of her sacrifices, you were never an option she even considered. Clara fears that she might just forsake both the town and polyhedron just to save you, her only resemblance of a family.

She fears that she was the one who brought you the sand pest the day you took her in and showed her kindness, that she poisoned your blood and infected your body with this deadly disease by associating with her.

Kids hold narrow views on the world. It's hard for them to comprehend that things could occur with no relation to them. They feel responsible for every misdeed, for every argument and fight between their parents, for every loved one's unhappiness must have stemed from them not being good enough.

Clara is terrfied by that notion; in her eyes, she might have as well killed you by her own small hands.

Her speech is incomprehensible, her eyes are swollen and red. She begs for forgiveness, apologising for anything and everything, the pile in her stomach threatening to rise as acid tethers up her throat.

You attempt to console her, to soothe the lost soul who found a home under your wings. To see her as neither the saint nor the sinner, but a frightened little girl carrying the weight of the world on her brittle shoulders.

She refuses to meet your eyes out of shame in the next days, she almost runs away from home on several occasions but decides against it last moment because who else will help take care of you through your sickness? Who else will bring the cold wet towels to soothe your forehead during your sleep? who else will wait for the kettle to boil to warm up the milk before pouring you a cup?

Clara repays your kindness tenfolds, even sharing her stashed away pieces of candy with you–no she gives them all to you in fact.

She steps over her own dignity and goes to seek out the other two healers in town to ask for help... and maybe "borrow" a couple things they'll surely not miss.

Tinctures from the Haruspex that Sticky smuggles out to her after a heated argument, Protective gear from the Bachelor room that Eva let's her slip into while turning a blind eye.

That sad frown is taking shape on her face, as your sickness worsen, you find that the physical pain pales in comparison to how much you miss seeing her smile. That confident sly smile she wore, endearing even in its most sinister forms as she schemed and plotted.

How scarce that smile has become.

Without her powers to rely on, Clara is forced to act mortal. To bother Stakh and insist that he must check on your health daily, to try her best to comprehend the medical terms and follow the guidelines he left for her.

One thing, however, is that she never stops trying her magic.

Day and night, tiptoeing to your bed, carefully avoiding the creeking floorboards in order not to disturb your rest. She lifts her hand up, presses her palm against your scorching temple as she channels all of her power and energy into this one act, wishing, pleading with the fates to smile her way today.

Clara never gives up, even as her arms grow cramped after holding them up for so long. She keeps at it for hours at a time, whatever moment of her day she could spare is spent by your side as she reattempts the spell over and over.

You realise what a strong kid she is, to get up no matter how many times life trips her down, to walk when she can't run, to crawl when she can't walk, to claw at the dirt and move forward no matter what.

She stays determined, asking you to believe in her. Promising she will cure you, she will deliver, she will save everyone, including you.

Especially you.

Talking about all the places the two of you would visit after you get better, because you will get better, don't you dare say otherwise.

Please you can't doubt her, her magic won't work if you do, please just have faith in her.

You don't have the heart to tell her that you never did, not a single moment of your life have you ever doubted words, her truth is your truth.

Until one day.

It finally works.

You feel her blood seeping into your veins, the antibodies multiping throughout the stream, destroying the ever changing plague and adapting to whatever structure it takes.

-

[arece]

The Way Things Go

♤ Summary: You begin to forget. The storyline

♤ a/n: This isn't a request, I'm just feeling angsty. Who still gets covid in 2023? I do and I'm sorry. (1.9k)

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John’s home being burnt down left you very little, and not of monetary value. No, instead it gave you nothing that was explicitly his. You had the coin but that only brought you comfort for so long.

You were having one of your off days, something that became a frequent part of your life since his passing. Curled up on the couch, covered in your softest blanket and Dog, you watched the rain patter against your window. 

Your phone vibrated with another call, most likely from Winston. You continued to ignore it, letting him reach your voicemail. Days like these were not good for speaking with him, you could never tell if it would end with you snapping or hysterically sobbing.

Your relationship with the man has never quite recovered. You found the only way to stop unconsciously blaming yourself was to hold it against him, and he was willing to let you resent him if it meant you were no longer your own enemy. 

It was hard not to blame someone, if you let it go what of him did you have to hold onto? You were fiddling with the coin, silently pleading with yourself to let it be enough but it wasn’t. 

The first to leave you was the way he spoke, afterall he did it so little. Imagining how he said your name, it never managed to sound quite right. It hurt the most when you couldn’t even fathom how he called you kid. The way the letters were pronounced was always wrong.

Then it was how he smelt, something you could no longer even describe - all you could remember was it made you feel serene, smelt of home and safety. Things you weren't even aware you knew until you began to forget it all. 

Your breaking point was his face. You would try to picture his face and it started to blur. No matter how hard you focused, how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut, he never came back into focus. You had no pictures for reference, no clothes, nothing to spare yourself from forgetting it all.

You could feel yourself become lost in grief, it felt like the first night of his death all over again. You were alone, without him there. You were alone for two years when he left you but then at least you knew he was out there, somewhere. Alive.

A knock sounded at your door, it seems it had been happening for a while and you missed it in your contemplation. You could hear your door opening, you didn’t bother to lock it, you didn’t have anyone to worry over your safety anymore.

“You’ve been missing for four days,” Winston slowly kneeled into your field of vision by the side of the couch. Has it really been four days? Time usually slowed down while you were missing him. Hours ticking away agonizingly slow as you waited for the painful episode to end. Maybe it was fast because you were welcoming the ache, it was all you had left of him now.

“I’m tired, Winston,” you whispered, nearly taking all your effort to do so. You couldn’t sleep, closing your eyes only served to remind you how you can’t see him. The episodes always hit the hardest after your good days, you always want him when you finally manage to feel fine.

I know, my dear.” He brushed your hair back gently, the gesture reminding you of John and bringing tears to your eyes. “I’m beginning to forget.” A tear slipped out and Winston rubbed it away, “what are you forgetting?”

“I can’t remember anymore, I can't see him. I can’t speak about it because how do you talk about a ghost?” You could feel yourself becoming more worked up, voice slightly cracking and a lump growing in your throat making it harder for you to speak. “He’s always there but it feels like a cruel trick. I’m losing him all over again.”

Your breathing grew labored and Winston pulled you down from the couch into his arms as you began to cry. “I think it’s time for you to go back,” he softly whispered once you started to calm down. You slowly pushed yourself from his arms, uncomfortable with anyone but him giving you affection. “Back where?”

“To the Ruska Roma.” You felt yourself becoming irrationally angry at the mention of John’s other family, his real family, the one he purposely kept separate from you. “I don’t belong there, he made that clear enough,” you couldn’t help but let your ugly bitterness show.

Winston began to stand, giving Dog a pat on the head before making his way to the door, “well, I believe it holds all the answers you need.” You lifted yourself from the floor, glaring at him in a childish protest. He smiled softly to himself, you were hurt but you would be fine.

“Have I ever told you I hate how cryptic you can be?” He opened the door, laughing. He really did hope you’d go, it’d be healing in a way you’ve been needing for a while now, a way he couldn’t do with the barrier between you two. “Multiple times, dear.”

As soon as the door shut you felt the smile drop from your face, the temporary distraction wasn’t enough to erase your grief. You brushed your thumb over the shining coin, you took care of it, never letting even a speck of dust taint it.

It’s not like they’d even welcome you if you went, did they even know you exist? Probably, word spreads fast when it comes to things that pertain to the Baba Yaga. You weren’t sure if you could handle any negative reaction you’d get from the people John considered family, but Winston thought it would help and you were growing desperate.

***

Your hands shook as you entered the once familiar church. You nearly felt sick when you could remember a blurry John getting dragged out. Just when you began to second guess yourself, turning to leave, a voice called out to you, “come on in, child. We’ve been waiting for you.”

The priest gestured for you to come and you slightly hesitated. As you made your way over, you could feel others staring you down. It made you want to leave, them waiting for you could also be a bad thing. Once you got to the altar the priest touched your forehead, it took everything in you not to flinch back at the contact.

He hummed, looking at your expression before muttering to himself, “the exact same.” Before you could question him a woman accompanied by a few men came in from the back. “Ah, so she shows her face! Something he was never good at.”

You were confused, stepping back as she rapidly approached you. “He did not speak of me? Figures, man of not many words, too busy running away from everything.” She slapped your back harshly in greeting, laughing when you swatted her arm from you.

A man with graying hair, face covered in tattoos and piercings stared into your soul, “I am Klaus.” You were unable to hold back your baffled look, this exchange the furthest thing from what you were expecting. “(y/n),” you responded slowly.

“Imagine my surprise finding out I am an Aunt, let alone when it’s at his last visit before his death.” You wince, looking to the floor at her blunt mention of his death, something you're struggling to acknowledge is real, let alone saying out loud. She grows apologetic, sympathy showing in her expression.

“I am Katia. Come now, I’ll show you to the family.” She reaches to grab you by your arm but you quickly pull away, fumbling at her bewildered expression, “he didn’t- I’m not actually his daughter.” Your voice cracked at the admittance.

But Katia simply scoffed, throwing her hand up in exasperation, “and I’m not actually his sister. Blood does not make family, love does. He loved you, did he not?” You didn’t even hesitate with nodding, although he made mistakes you don’t doubt the love John held for you. “Then you were his daughter and you are my niece.”

After showing you off to hundreds of people she brought you to a small corridor, stopping you at the entrance. “I think this is what you’re really here for.” She opened the door allowing you in but not following after.

You watched as she closed the door but froze when you turned around, breath stuttering. There on the wall was a portrait of John, he was younger but it was him. The wave of emotions that hit you were harsher than you expected, quickly blinking back the tears before they could obscure your sight of him.

As you sat on the bench you couldn’t help but cry at the emotion you felt at your core - relief. Relief that you could see him again, the slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, his eyes. You had a piece of him back.

You found yourself staying at the Ruska Roma longer than you expected, practically living in the room. You would stay there for hours, just staring, memorizing. You feared that as soon as you left you’d blink and forget it all over again. It probably wasn’t the healthiest, but it was what you needed.

On the fourth day the door finally opened, Katia slowly sitting beside you, also looking at the portrait. You only look away to see what she had placed on your lap.

“It was his before he left.” You lift the jacket to your face, breathing in the scent you swore was there. Maybe it was your own delusion but you swore you could recognize the comforting smell, even if it was many years old. 

Placing your cheek against the fabric reminded you of his hugs, feeling the phantom squeeze of when he’d hold you tightly to him. “You remind me of both of us.” You opened your eyes, seeing that her stare was locked on the painting.

“I resented him for leaving me behind. I see that anger in you,” when she faced you, the sadness in her eyes was reflected in your own. She softly held your cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb under your eye, wiping away any potential tears. 

“I didn’t doubt you were his for a second when you arrived. That same confident, stoic demeanor.” You laughed with her, watching as she blinked away her own tears. “You even do that little furrow he did.” She moves her hand to poke at the space in between your eyebrows.

“I’m beginning to forget him. I can’t leave him behind, not again.” Katia grabs the jacket from you, moving to throw it over your shoulders. “You are a part of him, he lives on through you,” she stood from the bench. “Each time you breathe, that’s you remembering a part of him. The most important part.”

You held the jacket tighter to yourself as she stood beside his portrait. “I won’t make you leave but I will help you move on. I will not let you freeze in your grief, he would have never allowed it.”

“What do you mean?” Katia scoffed, rolling her eyes at the portrait as if it was actually John, “he may have not told you about us, but he spoke of you. He ensured that you’d have a lot of people looking after you, consider yourself the most protected person in the world.”

The pain in your chest grew tenfold, you had always thought he kept you hidden, a buried burden he’d rather not acknowledge. This entire time he tried to keep you separate from the underworld while at the same time making sure if you did get dragged back in you would be protected.

“He was never one for family, but he played the father role naturally.”

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[kalcifers-blog]

So I had the idea that all of the JSE Egos get possessed by Anti at some point- but all of their possessions look and work completely differently in comparison to each other because rather it being based on what's possessing them- Anti is utilizing what they perceive as their own worst traits/the image they have of themselves (in an extremely /neg way).

It's worth mentioning that it doesn't necessarily mean that these perceptions are true or not- the only thing that necessarily matters is that the Egos themselves think that it's true.

I'm going to go through each ego, describe what their possessions are like and go into detail as to why they're like that.

Buckle in dudes this is gonna be a long one

Chase Brody:

Chase to me has the most unstable variation of the possessions. His plays on the fact that they're constantly questioning their reality and feeling like a danger to not just himself but to those around him. Right now it's unclear if Chase has been experiencing alcoholism or his unstable view of reality before Anti but I do think Chase's entire life has been nothing short of turbulent it's a constant crashing rollercoaster, with the carriages shaking uneasily and sparks flying everywhere and the only thing he's able to do is hold onto the ride and hopes he gets to the end of it unscathed. Chase's possess has ALL of this on full display- it's the closest thing to the original Anti and it's far from pretty.

Visually I think the closest thing to Chases possession is Jinx's Hallucinations in Arcane. They're made up of the faces of his lost family mocking and taunting him while everyone else can only see Chase as an extremely unstable individual with unnatural eyes

[This shot in particular with the glowing eyes is what I imagine P!Chase to be like]

Marvin The Magnificent:

Now I've already briefly shown how I imagine Marvin's possession- and if I'm being honest it's my favourite one!! Marvin would by far be the hardest Ego to possess out of all of them, he's the only one with actual knowledge on Anti and the only one with the power to fight back against him. With that I think that Anti would only be able to possess Marvin with the help of IRIS- be honest, IRIS would JUMP at the opportunity to see what effects Anti could have on an individual with magic the way Marvin does. However, Marvin's biggest flaw is definitely his arrogance and his isolation. His "trust nobody" mindset has left him cold and uncaring to others and in my opinion this is something that he doesn't do because he enjoys it- something about Marvin screams that he wants to be able to connect with others but can't at every turn and that's what is portrayed in their possession. They're cold, robotic and uncaring. Their magic has been locked away deep in their subconscious because Anti knows it's too risky to let them utilise it. They've been forced into a state that's far removed from who Marvin really is. In a way it would make sense with how much of Marvin's memories have been tampered with for god knows how long- at a certain point there's only so much of yourself you can lose before you become unrecognisable to yourself.

The inspiration for P!Marvin is Chipped Catra from She-Ra Princess of Power

JackieBoy Man:

Jackie was by far the hardest to come up with- mostly because I couldn't come up with something that narratively would make sense. But I came to the conclusion that Jackie's worst perception of himself would come from the idea that he's not a true hero and only hurts the people around him, that he's a danger or a monster. That his powers make him a threat rather than a saviour. I personally think this would be a lot more effective if Jackie was possessed after an experience that left him doubting his role as a hero- maybe he couldn't save someone or someone he was trying to save and ended up dying instead. His grief and self loathing would come together into being possessed into being a weapon.

P!Jackie is nothing short of a weapon made for destruction- something that was designed to destroy. Part of the horror would be for him to wake up from his possession, only to realise that the ones he cares about the most and the only people he has left are now afraid of him and wants nothing to do with him.

The idea for P!Jackie is Infected She-Ra from She-Ra Princess of Power

Henrik Von Schneeplestien:

Henrik was another one that took me a while to figure out but I did eventually get to it!! Henrik would come from his insecurities as a doctor, the weight of people's lives being on his shoulders day in and out would wear him down over time and the idea that he could be at fault for the deaths of many whether he could've actually saved them or not plays in his brain so much its unbearable. Henrik's possession would take form as moss- or a general depiction of something rotting, a walking contamination that he can't heal or fix and he knows he's the route problem and to keep everyone else safe he'd need to remove himself from the equation. For the most part I don't think he'd be aware of how far his corruption goes, at first he'd write it off as being unwell, overworked maybe, but he has seen the others get possessed and harmed by their own possessions and he would never let himself succumb to that. Doctors do make the worst patients after all.

The inspiration for this has came from The Corruption in The Magnus Archives and Belos from The Owl House

Jameson Jackson:

JJ's possession is the one I'm most proud of and it's the one that's the most loyal to his debut in 2017. However the way I perceive JJs possession is that he is almost the exact same. But it's not him. He's fully conscious and aware of everything around him but he's trapped in his own skin with movements that are not his own. He's forced to watch and able to do nothing when those around him drop dead by his own hand. And the worst part about all of it is that Anti is clever enough to make him continue his daily routine, to carry on as normal. To let JJ see those closest to him not notice that something is deeply and horrifyingly wrong, that the person they're interacting with and bonding with isn't who they think they are. And no one notices. And there's nothing he's able to do about it. It's a play on his fear of no one really seeing him for who is is, no one notices something's wrong because they didn't know him to begin with. The entire experience makes him think about how much he actually spent time with these people. How much of him do they actually see and how much of Anti has painted over that.

If anything I might tweak Chase or Jackie's possessions slightly because they are extremely similar to each other??? BUT part of me wants to keep the similarities between them a constant thing because I personally see them as being two sides of the same coin

JJs possession was inspired by The Stranger and The Web from The Magnus Archives

AND THATS EVERYTHING‼️‼️ FEEL FREE TO REBLOG WITH THOUGHTS AND ANY ADD-ONS YOU WANT‼️‼️

[lime202]

Songs that reminded me of KNY dynamics and possible writing prompts, PT1

If anyone is interested in taking any songfic opportunities, here you go!

This post has manga spoilers. And, all of these prompts are angst, whoops. (This list is not limited to romantic dynamics, either—just dynamics that are interesting to touch on.)

Hakuji x Koyuki — "Stay Close" by SYML (Hakuji-centric)

"I know mourning is mourning and we heal differently / Right now it’s all I see" (Describes Hakuji falling back into his habits of violence after losing loved ones, with mourning being "all [he sees]" instead of finding true peace.)

"I want to keep you forever my love" (He says after her marriage proposal, and says once again as her pulse slows until it's nothing under his fingers.)

"I need somebody to save me" (Koyuki saved Hakuji from a life of ruthless violence, while Hakuji saved Koyuki from a life of loneliness and sickness.)

"If there’s no cure and there’s no medicine / Do we count the days until the end?" (No cure for the poison, no medicine for his father, and life is seeming to become more colorless and bleak.

Counting was the only thing Hakuji learned with his lack of education: the days left, money needed, grams of medicine needed, rations of food, punches thrown, hairpins needed to keep up his lover's hair...)

This song (literally all the lyrics, but I can't fit all of them in here) can also be applied to most of Hakuji's relationships, considering how tragic his past is.

Giyuu x Shinobu — "Take me Apart" by SYML (Giyuu-centric)

"Looking to start a war" (referring to the war of Humankind/Demon Corps vs Demons) "Wondering how it ends"

"I'm lucky he was a friend" (It's the only sentence that Giyuu can fully say about Sabito when confiding in Shinobu. She understands. As a slayer, she is someone who truly understands.)

"Take me apart and I'll flow like water" (A part of Giyuu's internal monologue, thinking about Shinobu's curiosity of him and her eagerness to pick him apart, while also insinuating his forced disconnect from the past and how he "floats above himself.")

These lyrics can apply to the canon also. They fit for a hypothetical scene about the aftermath of the war and Giyuu's perspective on being a survivor and the majority of the Corps' deaths.

Ruka x Shinjuro — "Lost On You" by LP (Shinjuro-centric)

"Burnin' like embers, falling tender / Long before the days of no surrender years ago" (The disease was prolonged, reducing his lover to a dying bonfire. Shinjuro knew what would happen, his children knew, and he could only hope that it wasn't as painful for Ruka to know as it was for him.

He knew he would never surrender to demon, but he couldn't have prepared for such a human circumstance to make him surrender his title as a Hashira.)

"So smoke 'em if you got 'em 'cause it's going down / All I ever wanted was you" (Her willpower remained strong and fiery until the end, but his own was made into a rapidly thinning smoke.)

"I'll never get to heaven 'cause I don't know how / Let's raise a glass or two" (His grief only came out as aggression. The way he treated his, her children was unworthy of forgiveness. Before he knew it, a few moderate glasses of sake increased to the whole bottle.)

My interpretation slightly deviates from the more accurate meaning of the song, but it still captures Shinjuro's full awareness of the inevitability of his wife's death and "end" of their relationship.

Kyojuro & Senjuro — "I Feel It in the Wind" by Smith & Thell (Switching perspectives)

"If you can find a drop in a drying sea / You'll find light in the darkest creeks" (Kyojuro always supplies his baby brother with happy words, acting as the source of light for their mostly dark, empty home.)

"You told me / I feel it in the wind my dear / The sun is gonna reappear / Good days are gonna come along / Hold on" (Hold on a little longer, is what Kyojuro used to say to Senjuro during harder times. The same words fall from Senjuro's lips as he weeps over Kyojuro, who lies overwhelmingly silent with endless injuries.)

"I feel it coming, the tide is turning / I feel it coming, you just got to wait and believe" (The tide is turning against the demons, they will surely meet their downfall, and you will live without needing to encounter any, Kyojuro insists, to both himself, and his brother weeping over him.)

This song wholly embraces the dynamic of Kyojuro always feeding Senjuro optimism during disheartening moments. Senjuro remembers every word, because any one could be his last.

Genya & Sanemi — "Once in A Dream" by In the City (Sanemi-centric)

"I can't stop, I can't break, I carry the weight for you" (The Hashira can't stop until the last of his family is able to live in a world free of demons. The weight of being made into a demon-killing machine is nothing.)

"It’s the loneliest road, road I know, I know, I know" (Sanemi knows this most of all as he pushes Genya away, but Genya dying to demon because of him would be even lonelier. It is lonelier, he finds out.)

"When I’m awake, I hide all our chains so you aren’t afraid" (The older brother pretends, has been pretending ever since they were little, that Genya had nothing to be afraid of as long as he was there.

His promise of protection used to mean that they would always stay together. Now—knowing his blood attracts demons left and right—it meant that he had to act more like their father to get Genya away from danger; if Sanemi was the scariest thing there was, then anywhere away from him would seem safer, because it was safer.)

I know you expected "Brother" by Kodaline for the Shinazugawa brothers... open books, all of you. (My fingers still ache from restraining myself from typing and using that song.)

[curseofdelos]

what’s ur newest fic abt??

I'm still figuring out the best way to summarise/describe this fic to people because this one is A Journey, so can I interest you in a sneak peek instead? I've been calling it my solangelo starcrossed lovers AU, but the actual starcrossed lovers part isn't relevant until halfway through the fic lmao whoops Obligatory disclaimer that this is a work in progress and is subject to change in the final version <3

Going to the underworld was a bad idea. 

Will knew it was a bad idea, but he found himself in Central Park with a ukulele strapped to his back anyway. 

What other choice did he have? His sister was dead, and his healing could do nothing for someone whose thread the Fates had cut. It was bad enough that Lee and Michael had died during the Titan War; he couldn’t accept losing Gracie too. 

If bargaining with Hades himself was what it took to get her back, then so be it. He was not losing another sibling. 

Will spent the better part of an hour searching Central Park for the entrance before he eventually stumbled upon a pile of boulders just north of the pond. They didn’t look like much even to his demigod eyes, but a dark sense of foreboding emanated from them and he knew this was what he was looking for. 

The Doors of Orpheus. 

The closest entrance into the underworld, and the inspiration behind his plan to save his sister. 

Finding this made what he was about to do feel more real, but he had come too far to turn back now. This entire plan hinged on his ability to keep moving forward and to never look back. 

Will removed the ukulele from his back, and began softly strumming one of his mother’s songs. They always brought him comfort, and he needed that comfort now more than ever. His voice was unsteady due to his nerves, but he poured his grief into the performance, hitting each note with passion and fervour until he was interrupted by a loud groan. 

The ground shook as the boulders shifted, and slowly a triangular crevice revealed itself. The gap was just wide enough for a person to squeeze through, and he was hit with the smell of mildew, decay, and dust. When Will peeked inside, he couldn’t see a thing. 

It was dark and creepy, but down those long winding steps was the god who could return his sister to him, and so he took a deep breath, slung the ukulele across his back, and pushed into the gap. 

Will had barely made it down ten steps when the rocks began to groan again, and the doors shut behind him. 

He was officially past the point of no return. There was no changing his mind now. Whatever happened, happened. 

“Well, here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself. 

With the doors closed, there was no more sunlight to light the way, and Will was plunged into pitch black darkness. He had always been frustrated at how useless some of his powers could be, but he was grateful for one in particular at that moment. 

Will took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. His skin began to emit a gentle glow, and it lit enough of the passageway that he could see where he was stepping. With one hand on the cold damp wall, and the other gripping the strap of his ukulele, he made his way down the stairs. 

This was where he was going to lead Gracie on the way out, and where he assumed Orpheus tried to lead Eurydice. Now that he was making the journey himself, he could understand why Orpheus had been so paranoid. 

Even with his glow, it was impossibly dark down here, and sometimes he swore he could see something move in the shadows. The soundscape of New York City was silenced, and the tunnel was filled with nothing but his own breathing and heartbeat. At one point, he thought he heard footsteps further down and almost slipped down the stairs in his surprise, but he swallowed his fear and pressed on. 

Gracie needed him to be brave and focused. No matter what he saw or heard, he was going to do what Orpheus failed to do and lead her out of here without looking back. All he had to do was convince Hades to let him try (something he suspected was easier said than done). 

The staircase seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the darkness began to brighten. Will switched off his glow to conserve his energy once he was certain he could see without it, and soon he reached his destination at the bottom. 

The underworld. 

It was everything he thought it would be and worse. 

The staircase opened up onto a beach of black volcanic sand. The roar of the River Styx was loud in his ears as it cascaded down the rocks and winded its way through Erebos. Far above him hung a ceiling of stalactites, no sky or clouds in sight, and the lack of natural sunlight was making him feel oddly lethargic. The smell of sulphur was so strong it made his eyes water. 

Will surveyed his surroundings until he saw it: off in the distance, camped out along the horizon, was Hades’ palace. Its obsidian walls were tall and imposing, and dread settled into his stomach at the mere sight. 

He was going to march through those bronze gates and demand an audience with Hades, arguably the most intimidating god in the pantheon. 

Gods, he hoped Hades wasn’t in a smiting mood. 

Will took a deep breath to steel himself, and stepped forward, sneakers crunching on the sand as he walked. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Will was not proud of the string of expletives that left his lips at the sudden voice. He whipped around in shock, and only then noticed that someone was leaning back against the cliff wall next to the stairs. 

His first thought was that this was a god, but he was fairly certain Hades was not in the habit of appearing like a sixteen year old boy in a My Chemical Romance t-shirt, and he had no other ideas on which god this could be.

His second thought was that this was a demigod, but that didn’t make any sense either. Nobody went to the underworld unless they had no other choice. Not to mention, as head medic, it was Will’s responsibility to know everyone at Camp Half-Blood and he liked to think he would have remembered a face like that. 

The boy looked to be about his age, give or take, with messy black hair that tumbled down to his shoulders. His face was angular with a hooked nose, a sharp jaw, and sharper cheekbones, and his mesmerising eyes were so dark they looked almost black. It would not be difficult to get lost in eyes like those. 

What really caught Will’s eye, however, was the third degree burn scars on his right arm. Patches of harsh red and scorched black skin dotted his arm all the way from the back of his hand up to his elbow. He knew just from looking at him that the injury had to be years old and long past the point his healing would have any real effect, but still, the healer in him wanted to take a closer look to see just how deep that burn went.

The scarring proved this couldn’t be a god - no god would choose to appear with anything less than perfect skin - so this had to be a demigod. 

But what was a demigod doing down here? 

Regardless, Will knew better than to snark at someone who may or may not be a god, so he stood up straight, held his head high, and defaulted to deference. “I’m here for an audience with Lord Hades.” 

The boy raised an eyebrow and looked him over, his gaze fixing on Will’s ukulele. “If your plan is to sing a song so pretty it convinces him to let you bring a loved one back to life, you might as well give up now because it’s not going to work.” 

The immediate dismissal hit him like a punch to the gut. “You don’t know that,” Will shot back defensively. 

“I think I do, actually.”

“Why?”

“Well, for a start, it didn’t work out for Orpheus, so I don’t know why you would think it would work for you. Secondly… he hates the ukulele.”

Will’s face burned in embarrassment, and he gripped the strap self-consciously. “But… it’s my Dad’s.”

“And who’s your Dad?”

“Apollo?” 

The boy snorted. “Even worse. He hates Apollo. You don’t stand a chance.” 

When Will went spelunking through the Big House attic in search of an instrument (one he could smuggle out of camp without his siblings noticing it was missing anyway) and he happened upon a ukulele that his father had blessed, he had taken it as divine endorsement of his plan. Apollo himself approved of Will’s mission to rescue his daughter, and directed him to one of the few instruments Will knew how to play. In a world dictated by prophecies and fate, there was no such thing as coincidence. 

Now that a random teenager who spoke like he knew Hades personally was telling him that he was doomed to fail, his confidence was shaken. He already knew this was a longshot. He already knew that this was going to be one of the most difficult things he had to do. What did it say about his chances that a kid from Hades’ court thought it was impossible? 

…But giving up meant dooming Gracie to an untimely death, and he just couldn’t do that. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Will said stubbornly. “Now if you’ll excuse me….” He spun on his heel, and continued on his way towards Hades’ palace. 

Will half-expected the boy to follow him, but he heard no footsteps behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

He thought he had escaped him and his judgement until the boy popped out from behind a fallen stalactite and fell into step beside him. 

Wait. How did he get in front of him? 

Will looked back over his shoulder at the cliff face - a distance too far to walk that quickly - and back at the boy who merely raised a brow at him as if Will was the weird one for being so confused. 

Did he teleport?

“You know, you’re not the first person since Orpheus to try this stunt,” the boy said as if whatever just happened didn’t happen, “and every single person before you failed. They weren’t even allowed to try. What makes you so special that you think he’s going to let you?” 

That’s the problem: Will didn’t think he was special, and there was nothing about his situation that felt particularly unique or worthy of Hades’ consideration either. He was here because he loved his sister, and he had to try something to bring her back, no matter how impossible it seemed. 

This guy and his pessimism, however, was beginning to piss him off and he had no desire to explain himself to him. Instead, he rounded on him and blurted out, “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“Nico,” he said, as if that explained anything, “and you are?” 

Will straightened. “Will Solace. Head medic at Camp Half-Blood.” He watched Nico’s face for any sign that he knew what that was, but his expression remained carefully neutral. “And I’m going to ask Lord Hades to release one of his souls into my care whether you think that’s a good idea or not.” 

“I don’t, for the record.”

“Yeah, you made that clear.” Will rolled his eyes and continued walking. 

Nico casually strolled beside him. “As head medic, you should know better than anyone that the dead should stay dead. Lord Hades doesn’t appreciate people who try to argue otherwise. If you don’t want to end up dead with them, I suggest you head back now.” 

“Thanks for the warning, but I’m well aware of the risks. I know what I’m doing.” 

Will could feel Nico’s eyes watching him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the palace. “...If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to make you.”

“Oh yeah?” Will scoffed. “And how are you going to do that?” 

Without warning, Nico grabbed the front of Will’s shirt and shoved him. 

The move was so unexpected that Will stumbled backwards with a yelp. There was another fallen stalactite behind him, and his back should have hit it. Instead, all the light around them was snuffed out and they were plunged into freezing cold. 

Thousands of whispering voices screamed in his ear. The wind whirred past him so fast it pushed at his face like he had gone down the drop on a rollercoaster. The world around them was completely black, and he could see nothing but Nico’s serene face in front of him, feel nothing but his bony fingers gripping tightly onto the fabric of his shirt. 

It only lasted a moment, and Will soon fell flat onto his back with an audible “OOF!”

Disoriented, he blinked up at the cloudy sky. Green grass tickled at his bare forearms. 

Will sat up on his elbows and realised he was back outside in Central Park. Nico stood in the Doors of Orpheus, looking down at him with faint amusement. “If you value your life at all, you won’t come back.” 

Nico thumped the inner wall of the passageway, and the rocks rolled back into place, shutting Will out and his hopes of rescuing Gracie with him. 

[mybelovedwoo]

Long Journey - Chapter 5: Unveiled Truth

Life hurts a lot, that's just how it is. At least that is what Destiny thought, living a life where living hurts more than dying. But one day everything changes when an unexpected guest appears. What does this long journey hide behind? Will it be worth it to be alive again?

"Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends!"

ateez pirate au, fluff, angst, smut

??? x named fem reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood injuries, trauma, smut, as, pa, abuse specific for this chapter: grief, mention of death

← previous | next → | masterlist

Fear. Shock. Sorrow.

The combination of all these emotions rushed over me at these moments. The feeling of having your heart ripped out, is how I would describe it. It just hurts so bad. My mind is so hazy, this is all my fault, it shouldn't have happened this way. I look down at my hands, the shakes won't stop. The ground below me is full of dirt, but I can't stand on my feet, my legs gave up and my lungs are already hurting from the crying. 

People pass me by, but nobody cares. Why would they? They're only here for the show, they don't even know who the person hanging there is, or what her sin is, they're just quenching their thirst for blood. They don't know that person is innocent or that she sacrificed herself because of me.

What is the meaning of my life now? Who am I living for? I have no one left. I have nothing left. This is my miserable life, it can't get any worse than this, since I've lost everything that was once important to me. I'm on my own. All alone. 

Numb. Emptiness. Gloom.

The noises around me fade away as if something is blocking my hearing. My mind seems to have gone blank and my tears stopped falling, there's just no more tears left. So this is how it feels not to feel anymore. Is it better than having a heart that can break at any time, caring for someone, and having a purpose to live, someone to live for?

I feel a hand on my left shoulder, and when I look up, there's San squatting next to me. I see his mouth moving, he's speaking to me but I can't hear a single word he's saying. I'm trying to focus and catch what he's saying, but I realize there's no purpose, I shouldn't care, not anymore. I want to be left alone, here, with all my pain, I don't even care if I have to die right here at this point.

"Destiny, get up! We have to get back to the ship right now, we don't have time for this. Please, I'm not going to leave you here, so you either get up and come back with me or I will bring you there myself." San knew what he was doing was against the order that Seonghwa gave him, but how could he leave you behind in a state like this? This girl saw the last person in her life die in front of her eyes, she's grieving, she's vulnerable. He should follow orders, but he's a human after all, isn't he? Also, he feels like he owes her, for saving his mate's life. 

You can feel a raindrop hitting your face, washing away the traces of your tears. In the twinkling of an eye, the rain starts to pour, and the cold water suddenly wakes me from my trance. I made a promise, I have to go back to the ship with San, no one can see me, that was my promise to the Captain. And I have no intention of breaking this promise.

San had no time to waste anymore, he grabbed my arms and quite literally lifted me up to stand. At this point, both of us were wet from head to toe from the heavy rain. He pulled me with him, he didn't let go of my arm, he had a mission to get back to the ship immediately and he couldn't lose me again in the crowd. 

We were walking very fast, it was almost a run. I didn't understand what was this big hurry about. If it was about the rain, it doesn't matter at this point, since we were already soaked. When I almost fell for the third time in a row, I had to ask him. "Why are we in such a hurry? It's like we're running away from someone." I didn't get an answer to my question, but he pulled me into a narrow alley, away from all the eyes and ears. He pushed me against the wall and caged me with both of his arms.

I was so surprised by the sudden action, I didn't know what was happening. "What-" He covered my mouth with his palm so I couldn't finish my sentence. My eyes widened. "Shhh. Just look at me and act like we are madly in love until the King's guards pass by." He frowned and looked behind himself, he looked very concerned. And I just stood there clueless, but still, I felt I had to do what he just said.

Why was he acting like this? They should not know who we were. We just have to act normal and everything should be fine, right? But who am I to deny the order, I promised to obey and that's what I'm gonna do. When the guards get to the entrance of the alley we are in, San leans so close to me, that I can feel his breath on my skin, it's warm and tickles a little. He pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I hadn't even noticed it was in my face until now. I get a bit nervous about the proximity, I've never been this close to a boy before. 

"Hey, you two there!" One of them shouts loudly, I even tremble a little because I got scared of the sudden noise. "Yes Sir?" San pulls me even closer to him, he rests my head on his shoulder, so the guards can't see my face. He looks at them with a cocky grin. Who wouldn't believe this man is in love, even I do for a moment.

"Sorry for the bother Sir. We're looking for two criminals who broke into the Royal prison this morning. Specifically, we're looking for a pirate and his mate." What?? Pirates? Why would they think we're pirates? We can get hanged for this, it's one of the worst crimes under the authority of the King. This is not good.

"Do we look like people who know pirates?" He asks back, pretending to be insulted. He even gasped as if he was surprised by the allegations, but he was not. Why wasn't he?

"No Sir, not at all." The guard tries to correct himself, with no success.

"Such a vile slander from the King's guards. I'd rather take my fiance home if such dangers lurk on the streets. If you would excuse us, gentlemen." Even when he walks past the guards, he still keeps me close to him. But they don't know we have no intention of going anywhere but the harbor, and out of this place as soon as possible.

When we are finally out of their sight, now we really start sprinting. "San." Nothing. He doesn't stop. He just runs, he doesn't slow down even when we get to the harbor. "San! What were they talking about?" Still nothing. When we got back to the ship the others were rushing all around the deck, they were rushing. They hurried to set sail as if they already knew what was happening. 

"SAN! Would you finally answer me? What the hell is happening right now? Why do they think you are pirates? And that I'm helping pirates? What's going on? Just answer me already!" I couldn't take it anymore, it drove me crazy not knowing anything. And he still won't even look at me. "Are you pirates?" There's the question I feared to say out loud. But when he turned around slowly and finally looked me in the eyes, his soft eyes weren't the same as before, they hardened, it looked terrifying.

"We are."

© belongs to mybelovedwoo

note: Another update in such a long time, i know I disappeared but my life got really busy the last couple of months. But hopefully, with summer being here, I'll have more time to write.

Honestly this is my favorite chapter yet. Please tell me all your thoughts about it!!

taglist: @dinossaurz

[themotherofhorses]

I am so so so sorry for your loss

I lost my dad 3 years ago, and like. Idk. You can try to describe what it's like to lose a parent all you want, but you're never going to be able to fully articulate it in a way that will make someone who hasn't gone through it understand. It sucks so bad, especially in the early days. And it's even worse when it's traumatic because that's just more articulation you have to do even though you literally don't have the words at all. How can you explain a gaping hole to someone who's never experienced it?

And God. I'm going to be so real, one of the things that makes me mad to this day are people who just try to make you push past your grief. They get uncomfortable if you don't grieve the way they think you should, and they get uncomfortable if your grief lasts longer than a month. When the unfortunate truth is you haven't even begun to truly grieve by that point because you're still in shock. I literally was just... I couldn't accept it until a year in, yk? I knew he was gone, but I didn't... it didn't click for a year, I guess. I don't know, like I said it's hard to explain

If you want to share, I'd like to hear a good memory of your mom. You obviously don't have to at all, but if you think it would help, this is your permission to take the space and talk about her

Grief itself is such a funny yet complicated feeling. Something (I found) that isn’t really spoken of is the immense and overwhelming guilt that sometimes tags along when you’re grieving such a heavy loss.

Since my mother’s passing, I’ve felt nothing but guilt for living while she isn’t. Like, why am I allowed to experience new things — her favorite things — when she’s not? It’s not fair.

It’s easy to say “time heals” but it’s so much more difficult to actually experience it. I refuse to wish this pain on anyone else.

Nevertheless, thank you for sharing your experience; I have no doubt that it was probably incredibly difficult to share. I appreciate your support so much. My heart goes out to you as well, as it definitely isn’t easy losing a parent — especially one who you loved so much.

As for a good memory? I have so many, but one that I’ve been constantly reliving is her face when I had explained that I would be receiving a special medal upon my graduation.

I’m a masters student, studying forensic psychology, with an emphasis on psychopathology; right now, my GPA is a 4.33. If I maintain that GPA until my graduation in May, I will graduate with distinction, and receive a special medal. When I explained that to her, her eyes crinkled as she smiled; she then took my face in her hands, kissed my forehead, and said, “I am so proud of you, baby. You’ve done me proud.”

She was everything to me. Her pride, to me, was worth what diamonds cost. Now, everything I do will be in her honor.

[blueberryshelves]

__________________________________________

Book Review

Title:  Let the Rubble Fall Author: Mandi Lynn Bell

Series: Road Trip Snapshot, book #2

No. of Pages: 327

ISBN: 9781953388063

Cover design: original cover and pen name before book republishing in 2023.

Synopsis:

Marly moves across the country on a leap of faith, but will the familiar fear of losing someone she loves be her downfall?

For the first time since her parent’s death, Marly has a new sense of hope as she moves to Colorado to be with the boy she had met on her epic cross-country road trip. What’s supposed to be a fresh start, quickly goes awry after Dylan gets into an accident, leaving him stranded in the wilderness alone. As rescuers search for him, Marly is left panicked, wondering if he’s safe as she re-lives the day her parents died.

When Dylan is finally back to safety, it's Marly who’s left battered and afraid. Dylan is eager to heal, while Marly is determined to stop him from risking an injury again. What Marly doesn’t know is that Dylan’s drive to summit mountains goes much deeper than wanting to cross something off his bucket list.

Will Marly’s fear of losing Dylan be the exact thing that pushes him away?

Let the Rubble Fall is the second book in the Road Trip Snapshot Series. If you like sweet romance, outdoors, and coming of age, then you’ll love this story that will be sure to tug at your heartstrings.

__________________________________________

What did I think of the book?

Let the Rubble Fall by Mandi Lynn Bell My rating: ⭐ 1 of 5 stars (1.5) [Disclaimer: spoilers!] A year later, and I'm finally finishing the Road Trip Snapshot series! The first book had a lot of good things going for it that made for an enjoyable read, even despite the issues present in the book. I absolutely loved the 3rd book/standalone of the series. But Let the Rubble Fall is another case that has suffered from what I call the "curse of the second book". This book is labelled as a coming-of-age romance. But the story is riddled with so much drama, and irrational behavior from Marly that it left me wondering why her and Dylan were even together. From chapter 32 and onward, the book is written as if Marly has made good progress in her healing, and is more stable in herself. She's able to be the one to help her boyfriend, Dylan, in healing from his own grief and trauma, and even offers him closure from losing his grandfather. Frankly, I quite enjoyed the ending, and it showed the potential of how the book could have been from the start. But instead, we get a story that is 85% of Marly having pretty extreme mental breakdowns, and running away from her problems at every turn. She quickly becomes toxic and controlling towards her boyfriend, even becoming a hypocrite, when she starts seeing her parents deaths in Dylan's hiking accident. Any progress she made in the first book is lost. She never processes or deals with the loss of her parents in a healthy way. Nothing triggers her to change. She doesn't grow, or make any real character development throughout the story. But at the last 15%, everything suddenly takes a 180 turn, and the story finishes in the end as if she did. It makes the last chapters of the book feel completely disconnected from the rest of the story, and I'm so confused as to what the intended message is being conveyed here. The other issue I experienced with the book was an imbalance in details. Where there was a significant lack of basic character descriptions such as hair color, eye color, body build, etc. throughout the book, other things were over-described with too many unnecessary details crammed into a scene. This was something the first book suffered from as well, but it's even more of an issue in Let the Rubble Fall. I did enjoy the moments where Marly is describing the landscapes she travels to, and they provided a great deal of relief from the rest of the book, but there's not many of them. Favorite character/s: Lori, for being the "voice of reason" throughout the story. Dylan, for being strong in himself, and not letting Marly stop him from doing what he loves. What drew me to this book? It's the second book to the series I was reading. Honestly, I didn't feel that drawn to it on its own. Stars: 1.5 of 5 stars. It pains me a bit to rate it so low, but this really wasn't my idea of a good story or reading experience. View all my reviews

See my reviews for:

Meet Me at the Summit, Road Trip Snapshot book #1 My rating: ⭐⭐⭐ 3 of 5 stars!

The Trail to You & Me, Road Trip Snapshot book #3 My rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5 of 5 stars! - Events in book #3 occur after Let the Rubble Fall, but can be read as a standalone.

[landscaping-your-mind]

HEY WELL AT LEAST THEY'RE NONBINARY RIGHT?

he/they jonbinary rights. also oh god oh fuck, time for MAG 132.

@a-mag-a-day

CW: canon- typical suicidal ideation and attempt, canon-typical self sacrificial tendencies. Both discussed more frankly than in the actual podcast.

Also, I'm allowing myself free use of my reaction images (with image descriptions) because I'm in SHAMBLES. Mostly words though.

ARCHIVIST Hello, Melanie. I know I said we’d wait until Basira was back, but I don’t… I’m sorry. I know she won’t… She’d want to do it a different way.

headinhands

Wish me luck. Although, I suppose if you’re hearing this, then I didn’t have any.

The way he says "wish me luck" with that levity and then just hhh like yk joking is one his coping mechanisms for like, crushing fear and grief and stuff, and just the way they SAY it just makes me want to CRY, AAA

I don’t know. I’m… I’m scared. When does the fear go away?

I remember in my first listen, this line stood out to me, I was in shambles, shambles. "When does the fear go away" I'm so, so sorry Jon.

[ID: Drawing of a person sitting at a computer, hands covering their face, crying. /End ID]

Anyway, I’m sorry. You too, Basira, if you’re hearing this. I know you’d stop me. You’d be right to, but … But if this goes wrong, all you lose is … I’m not risking anyone else.

This is a suicide note. Now, he's hoping he'll get out -- probably -- maybe -- but that. It is. Similar. The apology. All you lose is another monster. He might get stuck there forever, he's terrified, he's doing this for someone he doesn't even like out of guilt, out of the crushing -- ha -- amount of guilt, over Tim, over Daisy, over Martin and Basira and Melanie, over his... victims.

In case I don't make it. In case I don't get lucky.

Jonny stop making this podcast so good I'm going to cry.

Let’s do this one properly.

A reference to the Unknowing, where they... did not do it properly.

Stone steps. Roughly hewn. They… They keep going.

Just wanted to point out that he's like, ooh, information gathering. For information's sake, for the people in Artefacts. I think it's neat that he's doing this, and it's a way that makes sense in the world to let us know what's going on. Like how in Malevolent, Arthur's blind and John describes stuff in eloquent detail like some sort of poet or whatever, the statement givers describe the environment and people in their statements, and Jon is describing The Buried.

[The Archivist struggles forward]

Jon's voice in this, it sounds like they're confined, Jonny did a great job on the voice acting there. And the soundscaping in general is like, oh boy claustrophobia time! It's so good.

ARCHIVIST I heard someone. He was begging for me to save him. He said he couldn’t breathe. I can barely breathe. I couldn’t find him, but I am not here for him. I don’t even know him.

The Buried and putting you under the crushing weight of responsibility? Jon went into the coffin because he felt 'crushing' guilt over Tim's death and Daisy's imprisonment in the coffin, and the whole mess that The Unknowing was. In the coffin he's being called by others, and the responsibility of their safety is put on him. Now obviously it's not the other victims who are at fault, however it's interesting that The Buried does that. Perhaps that's how it makes people stay in it, alongside the spooky magic. With putting the responsibility of others on them, making them dig themselves a hole, and not be able to climb out. But Jon has Daisy's tapes as an anchor, he has a purpose, and so he can press on without getting too weighed down?

Just some thoughts.

For all this place closes around me, I feel adrift, like nothing can get through the dirt and the muck and …

This reminds me of how a lot of people say that The Buried and The Vast are quite similar, as an example -- the statement in MAG 195 - Adrift could be either Buried or Vast, big creature, but also crushing depths of water and drowning, but also lots of water. Also the categorizations aren't really like that, again like gender and colours.

The air is heavy – soil and dust. I am very thirsty, but I know I won’t die of it.

Two fun facts about me!

1. I used to live in a desert and the air was like weighted blanket air. I loved it.

2. I used to forget to drink water a lot, and I'd go days where I'd drink like... a glass? Now I drink a minimum of two glasses a day because meds, which has really helped lessen the constant headaches lol. Yea um. Drink water, kiddos.

[He struggles to breath as the Buried squeezes him. The Buried relaxes.]

THE SOUND EDITORS THIS EPISODE WERE KILLING IT!

DAISY —just alone. I think, I think … I hear this, sometimes, singing, when it’s wet. Or, or scratching, trying to get out. But I don’t … I don’t think there’s anyone there. It’s just been me, until now.

Fay Roberts did an excellent job as well. The voice acting <333 10/10 no notes, or like yes notes, and the notes are Feeling Claustrophobic well done.

ARCHIVIST It’s okay, I’ve, uh … I’ve got a plan. DAISY This like all your other plans?

If by "all [their] other plans" she means impulsive, borderline suicidal, and likely to fail... yes.

ARCHIVIST No. I know where we are. There is no out. Not here. This is … This is forever deep below creation, where the weight of existence bears down. This is the Buried, and we are alive. There isn’t even an up. Oh God. What have I done? What have I done?

I really like the way he delivers that line, especially the "This is the Buried, and we are alive" and "Oh God" parts.

DAISY Not alone, though? ARCHIVIST No. No, not alone.

[ID: A blurry screenshot of CC!GoodTimesWithScar from his stream. He's a bit further away from the camera than usual for streams, and has his head in his hands. /End ID]

DAISY Scared. I’m scared. I’ve been scared the whole time here, not just when it’s crushing, when it fills your mouth with dirt. It knows when to stop, or when to ease back so you don’t lose it or grow numb. Leaves you terrified for when it starts again, and when it does, you’re scared it’ll never stop.

My friend, Jay Mapleejay -- who you should follow by the way, @/mapleejay or @/mapleeowl everywhere -- once wondered how the Domains in the Eyepocolypse kept people afraid without the memory loss like in MAG 170. And there's your answer probably.

Also :(

The Hunt was me, but I don’t think I liked it. I think it just made me need it.

Idk what to say, just like this line.

I don’t … I don’t know who I am without the chase. I just know that I don’t like who I was back outside. I don’t want to be her again. I want to be better.

Same for this.

ARCHIVIST One thing I’ve learned, Daisy, is that we all get a choice. Even if it doesn’t feel like one.

Themes of choice in The Magnus Archivessssss this podcast makes me abnormal in so many ways <333

ARCHIVIST And now? DAISY Don’t know. I miss dreaming. You don’t sleep down here. ARCHIVIST Daisy, you should know I’m … If I wasn’t human before, I’m even less human now. DAISY Yeah, well. At the moment, I don’t care. ARCHIVIST And if we get out? DAISY But we can’t get out. [The Earth shifts.] (The Archivist grunts in pain.) DAISY (Pained) I’m sorry. I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry.

I just really like this exchange :(

[The coffin door creaks open and, groaning with effort, the Archivist and Daisy crawl out into the office. There are many tape recorders playing in the background.] [...] ARCHIVIST Tape recorders. M-must be dozens of them.

The Web my absolute beloathed. Now, I love Martin K-Anchor Blackwood as much as the next hopeless (a)romantic, however I don't think that it was Martin's love for Jon that pulled Jon out The Buried, I think it was The Web. Well, The Web definitely influenced Martin, however we do know that The Web has used their... undying love for one another against them *cough cough* *wink wink* *nudge nudge*, so it could have been the act of Martin leaving the tape recorders, but my personal theory is that it was just The Web. Uh oh, Jo(h)n (/ref).

Anyway! Ain't it great! Daisy's back! Jon isn't constantly alone!

He...

I'm going to have a lot of talking to do come MAG 136.

[jesse-cosay]

Kiss in grief

Amelia and Alrick

She had to attend.

Alrick was her fiance. Not quite married, but that had never mattered. He was her childhood best friends. Her partner in crime.

Her everything.

So she had to be there.

She had to attend.

If not for Alrick, then maybe for herself. She'd felt so alone in her grief up until now. Maybe- maybe seeing people- everyone who loved him-

Well. She was willing to try. He would want her to try.

Except this fucking sucked.

Amelia was never the type for formal events. She'd always pull Alrick aside- or he would tell her jokes the whole time. Anything to lighten the tension.  But nothing could lift the weight of this room. Not when there was no Alrick to curl his finger around hers. To mutter about the ridiculous old lady with a hat far too big for her head. Or the children, so clearly excited to see one another. Chattering in the back, completely oblivious to the gaping hole that swallowed all happiness sitting in the front of the room. Right next to Amelia. She only wished she could be so lucky as to ignore it.

"My condolences." He offered his hand to Amelia, shaking it firmly before turning to Alrick's mother beside her.

It was a never-ending line. People greeted Alrick. Greeted Amelia. Apologized for something- something they had nothing to do with. And then they left just as easily.

But the feeling in her heart wasn't something she could walk away from. She couldn't turn from the pain in her chest the way everyone else seemed to.

She leaned over, resting a hand gently on Mrs. Timmens's back. "Excuse me, I just- I need a moment."

Realistically she knew the line would die down. Eventually. But it felt so overwhelming.

All these people who loved Alrick. And not a single one of them was like her. Of course none of them had cared for him the way she had. How could they? Amelia would have known. Would have noticed if Alrick had been that close with someone.

Even Mrs. Timmens- she was his mother. Of course, she was sad. But she'd lost her husband the previous year. Ever since she'd heard the news it was like- it was like she went back to that moment. Losing her husband all over again. Not- not Alrick.

The sadness she felt was for someone else, it was like a repeating nightmare. But Amelia was completely cognizant. Painstakingly aware of her surroundings.

She only wished she could be as blissfully numb.

It was easy to slip away. The crowd that had gathered for Alrick's wake- Amelia didn't even recognize half of them. They didn't recognize her, either. Just friends of the family. Or friends of friends. No one important. No one that could see her and know that this loss was her's to bear.

It was a bit more cathartic to watch from a distance. With every person that had apologized and given her their condolences- she'd realized there was no real comfort in the words or the action. It wasn't for Amelia to feel better. It was Amelia comforting everyone else.

Tiring was the only word to describe it.

Just because she'd known him best- now she had to- to what? Relieve everyone else of that grief? Carry all of it herself? It made her feel sick.

"Excuse me," a woman stood next to her. Face bright red and her eyes glassy. It was the most bent out of shape of anyone Amelia had seen so far. Aside from herself.

"I just- I knew Alrick really well. He'd be so proud of you." Her voice wobbled as she spoke. Straining to get the words out.

"I'm so sorry, I just, could I-?" Without finishing her sentence she pulled Amelia into a tight hug. Squeezing her as if she could pull her inside her heart. Share the swirling emotion inside their hearts.

She sighed as she pulled away. Catching Amelia's eyes in hers. "You're amazing. Never forget how much he loves you, Amanda."

Without a moment to spare, she turned, heading off to some of Alrick's other family members.

This had to be a joke. Some cosmic entity was torturing Amelia. Testing her. What the fuck else could this be?

She could still feel the weight of the hug. The tackiness clinging to her skin, making her itchy. Amelia hissed as she marched off. Determined to put as much distance between her and everything. All of it.

A fat lot of good it did her. Leaving the service early to hide in her apartment the way she'd originally planned.

Her living room floor was just as unforgiving as the relentless apologies. As cold-hearted as the world that has stripped her of all reason and will. And told her to keep on going.

There was a picture frame beside her. She used to keep it on the end table, but there was no point now. Not when it hurt so much to look at.

That didn't stop her from clutching it now. Pressing a kiss to the smiling face in the portrait.

"I never got to say my vows," she sighed. "It was supposed to be you and me forever. Not just me."

"I can't do it if it's just me."

Alrick wouldn't want this for her. He hadn't wanted to die and leave her behind. It was never supposed to be like this.

He'd hate to see what a mess she'd become without him.