#Dearly Bleak

[scrivnomancer]

Right now you can get a digital copy of my novella DEARLY BLEAK (set in the world of DEVIANT: THE RENEGADES) for just $2.24.

[fritzes]

Taylor Fritz at the 2024 ATP Finals

[springlucked]

in the las vegas motel bar. straight up "feeling it". and by "it", haha, well. let's just say. the Grief.

the Grief

[sky-forest-inn]

[alligaytorrr-official]

unfortunately, i was already miserable to begin with today. though i suppose 'today' is redundant. haven't i always been?

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words for characterization (pt. 3)

Mentality

abhorrence, absentmindedness, abstraction, ache, aggravation, agonize, alarm, allergy, amazement, angst, anticipation, apathy, assurance, attention, attrition, awe, bathos, behalf, belonging, bitterness, boast, bosom, breast, buoyancy/buoyance, capitulation, care, censure, cheer, clemency, cogitation, comfort, complex, compulsion, conception, confusion, consideration, constancy, content, contrition, corollary, credit, curiosity, darkness, decision, deference, delight, delirium, dementia, dependence/dependency, design, despair, difficulty, disaffection, discipline, discomfiture, discontent, discrimination, disinclination, disorder, disquiet, distraction, disturbance, dolor, dumps, ecstasy, elation, emotion, enjoyment, envy, esprit de corps, exaltation, excitement, exhilaration, expectation, exultation, fat city, felicity, firmness, fog, forbearance, foresight, forgetfulness, frame of mind, free will, fret, frustration, funk, fury, glee, gratification, grief, happiness, heart, heartbreak, heaven, hoopla, huff, humanity, humor, idiocy, impulse, indignity, insight, introspection, jealousy, joy, kick, lament/lamentation, letdown, levity, madness, mania, melancholy, merriment/merrymaking, mirth, monotony, mope, mortification, mourning, nausea, neglect, nervous breakdown, neurosis, objection, observance, obsession, optimism, outlook, panic, paroxysm, pathos, penance, perception, pessimism, pity, Pollyanna, pout, precognition, premonition, presence, psyche, push, qualm, rage, rapture, red herring, rejoice, repent, repose, resent, resignation, resolution, restlessness, ruckus, sadness, satisfaction, security, self-satisfaction, sensibility, sentiment, servitude, simmer, slump, solace, sorrow, soul-searching, status quo, strain, stress, surprise, sympathy, telepathy, temperament, tension, tolerance, torpor, trance, triumph, umbrage, unrest, vanity, waver, wonder, worry, zeal, zest

Attributes of Mentality: aback, absconder, absent-minded, absorbing, accustomed, affected, afraid, aghast, alert, amatory, angry, apathetic, apprehensive, assumed, attentive, averse, bad, beaten, believable, berserk, bewildered, bigoted, bleak, blue, breathless, broad-minded, brokenhearted, burning, captive, cautious, cheerful, chipper, clairvoyant, compassionate, concerned, confused, contemplative, contented, crabby/crabbed, crazy, cross, curious, daffy, dearly, dejected, delirious, depressed, desolate, desperately, disaffected, disbelieving, disconcerted, discontented/discontent, discouraging, disenchanted, disgusted, disillusioned, disinterested, dispirited, dissident, distressed, doleful, dotty, down, downcast, dumbfounded, elated, emotional, enamored, enraged, excited, exultant, fed up, firm, flushed, forgetful, forlorn, frenetic, frightened, fulfilled, furious, glad, gleeful, glum, grateful, grief-stricken, gut, half-baked, happily, hard, hard-boiled, harried, headstrong, heartsick, high, hopeful, huffy, hysterical, ill-tempered, impassioned, inattentive, inconsolable, indifferent, indiscriminate, insane, insecure, intent, interested, intoxicated, irate, irresolute, jaundiced, jovial, joyful/joyous, jubilant, keen, languid, lethargic, livid, lonesome, loony, low, lukewarm, mad, malleable, manic/maniacal, mental, mindful, mirthful, mixed-up, morbid, mournful, narrow-minded, nerveless, neurotic, new age, normal, numb, nuts/nutty, objectivity, observant, obsessed, off-guard, one-sided, on the fence, opposed/opposing, overjoyed, partial, pensive, pent-up, petrified, phlegmatic, platonic, pooped, predisposed, prepared, profound, provincial, psyched, psychological, pumped, punch-drunk, puzzled, rabid, radical, rapacious, realistic, regretful, restless, rigid, rueful, salacious, sanguine, saturnine, sectarian, self-assured, sensitive, sick, skeptical, small-minded, solicitous, sore, sorry, sound, spellbound, steady, strong, stupefied, sulky, susceptible, tearful, tender, testy, thirsty, thoughtless, tired, torn, tough, ugly, unbalanced, uncaring, uncommitted, undecided, unemotional, unfeeling, uninterested, unsound, untroubled, upbeat, versed, wacky, wary, weary, wide-awake, wishful, woebegone, wrathful, wretched

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary ⚜ Part 1 ⚜ Part 2

[ozzgin]

i LOVE your Dostoevsky inspired yandere!!! i love his books, and i love the other classics, i love del lving deep into them and rambling on and on about them, but no one else does and they think it's weird and boring :((( id love love love to see more of him or any or classic-inspired yanderes!!!

-🍭 anon

I'm very glad to hear that!! I'd actually hoped to write something like this for a long time, especially after I watched Tchaikovsky's Pique Dame at the opera. It's a very common trope, this struggle for a better life, and I wanted to convey the bleak outcome myself.

Yan!Soldier resembles both Raskolnikov and Herman in that regard. He swings between misery and egomania. He despises his background and blames fate for overlooking his potential. He's deeply envious of the rich, frustrated by his lack of status, and looks down on the aristocracy that came into wealth by mere luck and labour of the less fortunate. He deserves it. He's intelligent, ambitious, a man above all other men. A natural-born leader, meant to be served and not to serve.

You can tell that Yan!Soldier struggles a lot when it comes to financial status. He's profoundly insecure, spiteful, and opportunistic. He has no trouble selling his comrades if it means he can step forward. You see the insatiable greed in his eyes, and you wonder if he even truly loves you, or you're just a mere aid to his goals.

In truth, he loves you dearly. It is, however, a very possessive kind of love. You are his first achievement, his apologetic gift from the Gods above. He could never imagine his life without you - his very glimmer of hope. Thus, he is tremendously jealous. Whenever you interact with someone else, it makes him feel like he's sharing his wealth. Oh, no, he's not that generous. These fools aren't worthy of your presence.

He knows too well that he's a miserable, unscrupulous crook. You'd probably be much happier with someone else, someone happier, more resourceful. Yet, he wants to be selfish for once. Won't he be allowed just this one craving?

[bailadeluna]

there’s something so brilliant in cooper howard’s costume design - it’s so much more than just a simple blue and gold cowboy fit.

at the beginning of the show, before the bombs dropped, cooper howard was a good person - always kind to others despite the circumstances or how he was feeling in the moment.

you could say… he was exemplifying the golden rule.

this is evident in his costuming - cooper is decked out in gold even when the bombs dropped. the golden rule is still so close to his heart - i mean come on - look at how tight that bandana is around his neck.

even in certain lighting, his hat looks gold.

cooper howard being a good person and living by the golden rule is what barb probably fell in love with (she has her own interesting character analysis and thought process which i would love to discuss later). because this trait is so admired by her and those around cooper, she probably saw him as who she would hope future generations would become as they grow up in the vaults. people like him are the better future she envisions - so it’s no coincidence that the vault suit is in his colors.

what does the blue symbolize?

well, to me, i think it’s the corporate presence in the world. there’s more blue in the suit than there is gold - hinting at vaultech’s corporate greed, capitalism, and evil machinations. (there was also blue in his old cowboy costume - i.e. the presence of the studio and how they use cooper to push a mccarthyism narrative. kinda in the same way vaultech will use him)

the blue in the suit - symbolizing vaultech’s overwhelming presence and the reason for such a bleak and cruel world - does not swallow up the gold - the small semblance of humanity’s capacity to do and be good. it’s the small hint at barb’s intentions (analogous to the road to hell being paved with good intentions).

yet the man who was an inspiration for vaultech’s workers - the man who they all wished they could be like, the man who symbolized all the “do good” ideas they pass down to their children but in the end have no intention of following them (wink wink, looking at you, hank) - was in the end stripped of all his humanity by the world vaultech created (wow, would you look at that? another analogy for capitalism!)

this man, once rich in morals now robbed of them all, wanders the wasteland a ghoul. everything has been taken from him - symbolized being devoid of layers of skin.

now, he’s nothing but the ghost of the man he once was - haunted by what has been done. everything he wears as the ghoul is frayed, tattered, and dark - symbolizing that cooper howard, that kind and caring man before the bombs is dead.

but wait - is that…

you don’t see it? Ok, i’ll zoom in some more

GOLD? (perhaps even the same shirt he was wearing during the bomb drop??)

perhaps the golden rule, those values that he once held so dearly, are still there just dormant - waiting to be awaken again.

maybe cooper howard can come back… that just maybe there’s still hope for the good in humanity…

[just-an-enby-lemon]

"The kid seems scared.

Tip had always been a little nervous. Or at least that was the reality when the two had met.

It was fairly obvious for everyone that met them that the child had not been treated well by their formar guardian and in a way that Elphaba sadly recognized still seemed to afraid of facing the same pain and rejection again.

Still lately the kid seemed more relaxed and open, treating her with the same easiness and earnest they did Jack. More determined to learn than eager to please. Following her around with questions and vibrating with excitement as she turned wooden sticks into dolls and toy swords alike. It made her think of Nessa in a very bittersweet way.

She failed her sister and she would not allow herself to fail another young person she became responsable for.

That's to say Tip's strange turn to the same scared kid she met soon after leaving her behind and being declared and enemy of Oz scared her.

"Miss Elphaba, I have something very serius to tell you."

Maybe they want to leave. They are not in fact different in the same way Elphaba is. Tip is a normal if deeply magical child who just ended up in the care of a horrible woman. Being her aprenticce is actually the only thing turning them into a dangerous and hated figure.

"I understand."

The kid takes a deep breath. Elphaba tries to think on the best words to explain that of course they can leave if they want to and that they can take as many provisions as they need. Tip will never again be a prisioner.

"I don't think I am a boy? Wait no. I know I'm not a boy. Like the idea of it is still a bit scary because it seems like it will be a big deal but I'm fairly sure I'm a girl actually. I just never though about it before but Jack called me she accidentaly and it just makes sense. I am still the same Tip and please let me keep being your aprentice." She says in a single breath.

"What?"

The girl looked scared. "I'm a girl." She says. Than in a smaller voice. "I can try to be a boy if you want?" It does not appear to be something she wants and the fact she still sugests it breaks Elphaba's heart a little.

"Oh! Oh. No, no, that's fine. Do you want to be called something else?"

Her eyes go huge and she stops deep in thought before answring.

"Uh. I guess so, but I'm still thinking on it. I don't mind Tip for now."

"Okay, tell me when it changes?"

"Will do."

"Anything else?"

Tip looks a bit shy for half a second before a excited smile covers her face. "Could you let me borrow a dress?"

Elphaba laughts.

"You are too tiny for my dresses, kid. But I can help you magic one for yourself. "

Her eyes shine. "Cool!"

[...]

"Morrible says you'll marry some prince soon." Dorothy says making a face.

"I don't see why you are soo distraught, my dear, I'm pretty sure she'll find me a great prince." Glinda says with false cheer.

"I doubt it. Princes are all very dull."

"Met many princes did you?" She jokes lightly, trying to find a way to change the subject. She loves the kid dearly and for all it's bleak consequences will always be glad the tornado ended up bringing the girl into her life but she would preffer not to discuss those subjects. Specially not in her own bedroom in a rare moment of relaxation.

"Well no." The girl pouts. "But most boys are dull and I can't imagine liking to marry even the ones that aren't. I guess I just thought you were the same? I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. And I sure hope marriage is unimaginable for you, you are way to young for it."

The girl smiles a tiny bit before frowning.

"I can imagine myself marrying a girl one day."

"Oh!" Is all Glinda says.

"I told Aunt Em once she told me to never say it again, she told me I was too young. But I'm ten now and I feel the same. " Dorothy rarely talks about home, sometimes Glinda tricks herself into beliving it is because her the kid just loves Oz better, that she forgot all about it, but she knows deep down that Dorothy will always miss Kansas, always miss her uncle and aunt and Toto, she just accepted home as a place she'll never return to. In the good days Glinda knows Dorothy would also miss Oz, would miss her munchkin friends and mostly would miss being Glinda's apprentice. In the better days she thinks about bringing Dorothy's family here. After all Kansas always seems sad and hungry. "Girls don't marry each other in Kansas." She continues. "But I though maybe they did here. "

"I think they do everywhere, Dorothy, is just some people pretend they don't because the different scares them."

"Like the Wizard and the animals?"

Glinda had only recently convinced Dorothy to only speak her very dangerous beliefs on the Wizard in private and even there she sometimes corrected the kid. But right now it felt too much like liying to Elphaba she couldn't do it, not when she knew Dorothy to be right.

"Yeah. Just like that."

And after a second she adds.

"Between us, I would also like to marry a woman".

Dorothy smiles, just a little bit.

[...]

She knows she should not be here.

But it's fun, she likes the dancing and the food and the small chance of going back home with something that can actually help Elphie. Maybe a magical item or even just some usefull information.

Besides the girl she is talking to is very pretty and fun and smart and she is not open about it but she's definitivaly not the biggest fan of the Wizard either. Oh and a great dancer.

"I'm sorry" the girl says "but I think I did not catch your name?"

Now it's the moment to say something clever like 'i never gave it to you' or maybe just invent some fake name. She can't say her name. It's too easy of a conection to make. But she doesn't need to lie. After all it was never really her name. And she has a name now. Has had it for days and just keept it a secret in some weird form of fear. But it felt like time. She would tell it to Elphie and Jack when she went back.

"Ozma. I'm Ozma. What's yours?"

[...]

Dorothy had never had so much fun at a party before. Her new friend was the most beutifull girl she ever met and the funniest and cleverest and it had never felt so easy to talk to someone before. In fact the only thing Ozma didn't appear to be was a good dancer but Glinda had teached Dorothy well and she found herself leading the other girl steps into the best dance she ever had.

She noticed Ozma did not gave any surname but it was not her place to pry. She just hoped to mert the girl again.

"Dorothy." She says and takes the hand. For a second she considers continuing in the way she was instructed to (Dorothy Upland at your pleasure and a kiss to the hand) but while she loves Glinda that's not really her. And she somehow trusts Ozma enough to be honest. "Dorothy Gale." She shakes the hand just like Uncle Henry used to.

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝟏𝟕: 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍

𝐂𝐖: ptsd and anxiety, hints to reader being malnourished and scarred, descriptions of reader’s hair being cut into a choppy ass pixie cut

𝐀/𝐍: happiness is on the bleak horizon 

𝐖𝐂: 6,100+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: the incredible @arienic! she basically coauthored this chapter so incredibly huge shoutout to my amazing friend ^^

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

Rain patters on the windowpane, the rhythmic tap tap tap of the drops soothing against your ears. You always loved it when it stormed back home. The world always became so quiet when it rained, the pure water washing away the dirt and making the greenery flourish. The rain lilies that would pop up the next day were always so beautiful. You remember studying under your window and…

Wait… window?

Your eyes snap open as your heart begins to speed up uncontrollably, provoking an uncomfortable tightness in your chest. Slowly, you sit up, feeling the firm hospital bed mattress below you. The room you're in is dimly lit, but there’s no blood dried on the sheets, or bars caging you in. No, there's a window on the wall next to you with cards arranged across the sill, and vases filled with flowers alongside them. 

But you aren't safe. You aren't.

Where are you?

When you swallow there’s a horribly unpleasant feeling in your throat, invading your nostrils and restraining your breathing. Reaching up, you feel a plastic tube line that’s been inserted in your nose. With a sense of urgency, you tug on it, the feeling of plastic sliding up your throat making you want to gag. Still, you keep going until you've relieved yourself of the unnatural feeling, then toss it to the side.

“Miss?” A hand lands on your shoulder, clasping against the bone that now forced your skin to stretch over it.

You can’t control the reaction that comes out of you: as pure fear shoots through your veins, so does a scream through your throat; one that tears at your vocal chords and sends you flailing over the edge of the bed. 

“NO! DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

There has to be something you can use to defend yourself—you skitter back on the cold tile, searching the room desperately.

“Code Violet… I repeat, Code Violet—Ma’am, you can’t be in here!”

Water splashes on you as you stumble to your feet, the nearest flower vase clenched tightly in your hands. It reels up behind you as you raise your arm, ready to be thrown. 

“That’s my daughter! Yes I can!”

Your breath immediately catches, a knot twisting in your throat as the familiar voice of your mother echoes against the sterile white walls. It freezes you in your tracks, and through the watery film cast over your eyes, you see her, staring oh-so-desperately at you as a nurse attempts to hold her back.

“…Mommy?”

You’re not sure if your voice comes out loud enough. The childish name had fallen from your lips in a hoarse whisper. But she hears it, and with every ounce of strength she can gather she pushes past the nurse again, plucking the vase right out of your weakened hands and pulling you into her chest.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.” Her words are choked as loud sobs and quick breaths ring loudly in your ears. You're not sure where they're coming from—you can't tell if anyone else is in the room, with your vision so blurry. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Shhh, my sweet girl. Shh…”

Why is she telling you to be quiet?

Oh.

The loud sobbing was coming from you.

A prick in your arm makes you gasp, and it feels as though a large wave crashes over you, gradually forcing your muscles to relax. Your breaths slow and a pain you didn’t realize had been squeezing your lungs slowly dissipates. 

With your mother’s arms still hosting you dearly against her, you turn sluggishly to see the same nurse from before backing away from the two of you with a wary look in her eye, an empty syringe situated between her gloved fingers.

“Ma’am, could you please return your daughter to the bed? She ripped out her IV line; she needs to finish this drip.”

The nurse is at least gentle with her words, this time, gesturing to the hospital bed as she moves back to the other side of the room, giving you both a respectable amount of space. At least four other staff members are standing in the doorway to your room, you realize, but most importantly your dad was pushing through them, eyes glued to you.

“Okay. Come here, sweetheart.” The arms around you lift you up, and like a child, you let them, legs giving in as you’re placed back onto the mattress.

You feel relieved.

Strong, calloused hands of your father gently pull you to lay back down just as a small wave of dizziness swirls your vision. Even now as you lay down, he squeezes your smaller hands in his, a strange mistiness in his eyes you haven't seen before.

You feel suffocated.

There’s too many people, but whatever the nurse gave you in that syringe keeps you from expressing your panic. Your humiliation. Your fear. Why are those other people still in the doorway? You want them to leave.

Still, they stay, and the nurse from before cautiously approaches your side—squeezing beside your mom as she grabs the IV line. You hadn’t even noticed it in your skin, or registered or getting ripped out in your fall.

You feel confused.

But… your parents are here, and they don’t lean back from the woman in scrubs or scorn her. So… she must be safe, right?

“Miss, I am very sorry for startling you. It was my honest mistake for touching you without consent. I deeply apologize,” she starts, lifting a hand over her heart. “I understand you must be very disoriented and scared, but I assure you I won’t harm you, and you are completely safe here. You’re at the Nahakra Hospital. Today's the third of August, and you’ve been unconscious in our care for two days now. Is it alright if I touch your arm to hook the IV line here?”

Her voice is calm and soothing, and while something about her still has you cautious, there’s a warmth in her words that makes you nod. 

“Thank you, miss. It’ll only take a second.” She nods, blue latex taking gentle hold of your arm. “Now, we’re going to have everyone here—including your parents—leave the room so that you can have a moment to process everything and calm down. Is that alright?”

Slowly, you nod again.

The IV is attached again, and after she turns to the panel and makes adjustments you don’t understand, she and your parents—reluctantly—leave the room. You’re left alone, just the pattering of rain left from the crescendo of chaos.

You’re in Nahakra Hospital.

It’s the third of August.

It’s August? You came back from vacation on… July nineteenth. That’s two weeks.

Everything between Then and Now is so patchy. A damp room. Lights that were much too cold and much too bright. Something… blue. And pain. So much pain.

The more you think about it, the more your head spins, and the more the memories slip just past your fingertips. You remember... You remember something. Something important. Very important. Something you had to tell everyone... But what is it?

A deep breath leaves your lips as you start to look around again, now with the knowledge that you at least weren’t in immediate danger. Your throat is sore, you realize, when you glance at an unopened water bottle on the bedside table. You practically jump at it, cracking open the lid and chugging the liquid life. The hoarseness is at least slightly alleviated by the coolness, and it calms you down even more in combination with whatever medicine that nurse had nicked you with.

The flower vase you'd grabbed is back in its spot, the pretty flowers inside now smushed and some even snapped from your mistreatment. A small wave of guilt washes over you as you glance over the window sill. Did people visit and leave you these?

You stand, a bit shakier this time, setting down the empty water bottle and grabbing on the metal of the IV stand. You pull it with you as you walk over to the display, a deep frown on your face. On one of the snapped flowers is a note, with bubbly, cursive handwriting on it.

If I’m not here when you wake up, talk to me as soon as you can. I’m so relieved you’re back, lovely girl!

Much love, Cadenza

You swallow thickly, an indecipherable emotion rolling over you as you reread the words. Holding the note to your chest, you let go of the IV drip and move on to the next note, attached to a stuffed bear.

Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t allowed to come but I had Travis deliver this. Hope I can see you soon.

-Dante

P.S. Gene helped me pick out the bear, so it’s a gift from both of us!

And then you pick up the next.

Here’s a picture of us at prom that I really loved. I thought you might want to have a print of it, maybe. I love you.

<3 Luci

And the next.

I made you cookies but they didn’t let me bring them in for you! I can make them again when you’re feeling better. Or maybe even before you feel better! I really missed you.

Love, Nana

And the next.

I consider you one of my not-alone buddies, even if you and Katelyn thought the title was a little goofy. I’m happy you’re back. :)

-Travis V.

I know we aren’t super close, but you’re still a friend who means a lot to me. Thank you for being so kind to me and everyone. I’m glad you’re okay.

Sincerely, Nicole

I’m sure some things won't be the same when you’re back. Regardless of what happened or what you feel when you see us again, I will always be here for you.

Love, Laurance

I love you so much.  I can’t describe how sorry I am that we couldn’t stop this from happening. But I will always protect you from now on, and I know you’re strong enough to get through this.

Love, Kate

I’m so sorry about everything. I hope you’re okay. I’ll be downstairs every day until you’re awake. As soon as you’re feeling up to it, I want to see you as soon as possible. I left these flowers for you! The pretty pretty dark red ones reminded me of you.

Aphmau <3

You have no idea how hard I cried when I found out you were here. I can’t wait to wrap you in a big hug again when I see you.

Love you dearly, Teony

You mean a lot to everyone, and especially to me. I’ve thought about you every day. I’ll be here for you if you ever need anything.

Vylad

I’m so sorry that I

Please forgive

I’m sorry.

Garroth

Several notes find themselves crumpled and clutched over your heart as your hands tremble. This is real. You were gone, and everyone was worried about you. They wanted you back.

You want to see them.

You remember that you'd wanted to see them again. That they were the light at the top of whatever dark place you were in; the light at the end of your long, dark tunnel.

You glance over to the IV. For a moment, you hesitate, but not even a second later you've pulled it out. It tugs uncomfortably on whatever part was connected to your arm, but you barely flinch at the pain. There’s a small voice in your head telling you that you shouldn’t have done that, but right now you just want to get out of this room. You need to get out of this room.

You’re not sure why you feel the need to be quiet, but the closer you move to the closed door the more your ears ring—a voice whispers: this won't end well. The blocked doorway makes you feel trapped, like you need to break free and run. Your vision locks on the handle, everything else blurring around you as you grasp onto the cold metal.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when the door gives smoothly, opening without even a squeak.

Why were you worried? You’re in a hospital, not a prison.

When you step out, you quickly scan the hallway—thankfully, there’s no nurses around to stop you from leaving. But even still, where are you supposed to find your parents? Were they down in the lobby—wherever that was—or somewhere in another room near you?

Your thoughts are put to a halt when you hear voices chatter around the corner, one of them rising high enough for you to hear before lowering again. They sounded… worried. Angry?

As you inch closer, you’re grateful for the socks you were given; they help silence your steps. The voices become clearer as you reach the end of the hall. The first you hear is an unfamiliar man’s voice, his tone assertive, the sort that commands respect.

“…And just what are we supposed to do about this? We can’t send our son back to that school. What if he’s taken by those psychos, too? That girl is lucky she made it back in one piece!" The man pauses for a moment, then scoffs. "Then again… based on her reaction when she woke up, I'm not sure she did.”

“Enough!” Is that… Garte’s voice? “Fact is that she is back. Alive. That’s what we should be focused on. Besides, we can’t know for sure if she was the one who took her.”

“Who else could it be? You heard what the cops said. She was found near the same exact lodge. Is that just a coincidence? You seriously believe this isn’t exactly what we think it is?”

A heavy silence falls over the group. You lean against the wall, straining your ears to make out every word. Were your parents with them?

“Quiet, Derek. This isn’t helping,” a woman’s voice speaks up coolly. “We need to focus on what to do with the kids now.”

“…Rachel is right.” Sylvanna, too? “And… since we can’t know for sure—”

“We do know for sure. You can't all be ignoring the signs like this.”

“Derek!”

“…We need to think about if it was her,” Sylvanna continues. “Or… Zack. There’s no telling what their next move is, especially if she got away from them too soon. We’re going to have to be extra protective of them.”

“We can’t possibly uproot our babies.” …That’s Zianna. “This is already hard enough on all of them, and there’s no telling what kind of trauma…”

Her voice breaks, and the group is silent again.

“They clearly tracked her down after you both moved back here. There's no guarantee they wouldn't do it again, even if we all moved. We need to keep our kids together, and we have to decide if we’re going to tell them about all of this sooner or later. They need each other, especially now, after all that's happened. Don’t you all think so?”

You swallow. They’re talking about you, you're sure, but you can’t make any sense of it. Do they know who was responsible for what happened? How? Why didn’t they do anything?

Breath caught in your lungs, you lean forward, peeking around the corner. Your parents, Garte, Zianna, Sylvanna, Eric, a white-haired man, and a couple you haven’t seen before are gathered in a circle, all with grave looks on their faces.

“I agree. It’s hard enough moving schools at their age without this whole mess,” your mom speaks up, hand on her forehead, head hung low, “let alone now.”

“So, what? We’re just supposed to sit like ducks in a pond, wait for them to take another one of our kids? And we won't even tell the kids why they're getting targeted? Stalked? Hunted down? No way.” Now that you're seeing everyone in the group, you're able to connect the stern voice from before to a man with dark hair standing closest to… Rachel? His face and outfit matched his voice: harsh. Corporate. Authoritarian, and demanding of respect. “Aaron won’t be staying anywhere near that high school or your kids.”

“Listen, as many issues as I have with your son making moves on my daughter, pulling him out of this is too harsh,” Sylvanna snaps, pointing at him. “How is sending him off going to help anything?”

“Excuse me?” The man’s nostrils flare in annoyance. "At least he won't be lined up with the rest of your kids, waiting for his turn to get whisked away and experimented on."

“Enough,” the white-haired man says, his voice cutting across the conversation. He looks… directly at you. Something about his gaze pierced through you and was distant at the same time, like something familiar and far off was looking through his eyes instead of him. It sends a shockwave of paralyzing fear through you, and you can’t bring yourself to hide from his sight. “We have an eavesdropper.”

All nine adults are now looking at you, and you can’t help but flinch as you’re discovered.

“Oh, sweetie,” Zianna calls, her voice delicate. “It’s okay. Come here.”

You know these people. You know them. Yet your steps are hesitant as you approach them, a heavy sense of unease slowing you. They all look… horrified as their eyes stay locked on your form. It definitely didn’t help the sick feeling in your gut.

“It’s okay, mija,” Sylvanna reassures when you pause, walking closer to you and holding her hand out.

You stare at it—her small, tanned hand oh-so-familiar and comforting in your cold, white surroundings. Reaching out, you place your hand in hers, letting her pull you closer to their group. 

“Oh…” Zianna gasps lightly, reaching up to touch your hair. Her fingers feel strange against your scalp, and you realize it’s because the longer length that used to be there now only grows a couple of inches from your head. 

As her hands gently move down to your wrist, you turn your attention to the rest of the group; your parents start hovering close to your side.

“…What were you all talking about?” you ask, ignoring their fussing as you look each one in the eye. They all startle, a mix of guilt and upset written all over their faces. When neither Sylvanna nor Zianna say anything, you look to your parents for answers. It takes a few moments for you to realize that you won't be getting any; they only walk to your side to pull you under their arms.

Why are you getting nothing but silence? They know more about something awful that happened to you that you can’t even remember! Resent builds in your chest when you’re met with nothing but pitiful eyes. 

“Excuse me.” A woman announces herself quite suddenly, making you jump in place.

You turn to see a tall, blonde cop, her hair tied back in a tight bun. Her face is kind, but stern—it's clear she takes her job seriously. A younger-looking man stands next to her, who, from the look of it, likely works under her.

“I’m sorry for interrupting this talk, but we heard she was awake and wanted to ask some questions to help close out the missing person's file, if that’s alright?” she says to your parents shortly, before glancing over to you. “My name is Detective Azura from the Phoenix Drop Police Department, and with me is my colleague, Detective Gale.”

“I don’t know if now is the best time. She’s barely awake…” your mom says, turning to look at you with a deep frown on her face.

You glance around the group. They should be the ones answering the questions, shouldn’t they? Clearly, they knew more than you did.

“...It’s okay. I don’t mind,” you say quietly. “I don’t know how much I can tell you, though. Everything is kind of… gone.”

“That’s alright. Whatever you're able to recall would be more than enough.” Detective Azura nods, giving you a polite smile. “Would you like to do this in a room, for privacy?”

The offer makes your heart rate spike, and you quickly shake your head. “No, I can answer them here…”

“Okay, that’s fine, too.” She pulls out a notepad. “So, what can you tell us? Do you think you could begin by telling us what you were doing before the incident?”

You swallow, looking down at the lines between the tiles, tracing each outline as you attempt to pull anything.

“I… had just gotten back from a trip with my friends, and wanted to walk home to take a shower and get some things from my house."

“And—sorry to interrupt—you were at Ms. Salome’s house at this point, correct?”

You nod, and she gestures for you to continue. “I felt like something was off, but I shook it off because I thought I was just paranoid. And then—” You suck in a breath. Suddenly, talking isn't as easy as you thought it would be. “I saw the black SUV and started freaking out. I tried rushing—running to my house, but a woman was standing in my way.”

“And what did this woman look like?”

“It was too dark, but…” you trail off, thinking back to that moment. The memory is so hazy, so far away, but you remember the rough asphalt digging into your skin as you looked up at the silhouette of the woman above you; a head of blue hair hanging over her shadowed face. “...Her hair was blue.”

“Blue hair? You’re sure of that?”

“...Yeah. The street lamp was shining on it. It was light blue.”

Either the air surrounding the group shifts, or you’re imagining the eyes of the parents darting at each other in… panic? Fear? 

Detective Azula quickly scribbles something onto her notepad. “Okay, I see. But you don’t remember any other details about this woman? How about where you were held?”

The more you try to think past that point (your cheek, scraping against the pavement; your limbs, impossibly heavy), the more the thickness in your throat grows. Like the fog over your memories is filled with poison, stinging your hands any time you reach in.

After a deep breath, you start again. “I only remember… everything hurting… and I think I was in a room with bars, but…" You exhale sharply, reaching up to massage your temple. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I don't know, it’s—it's all blurry.”

Your head hurts.

“I see. Can you recall anything else?”

“I don’t think I can… I just remember there was something very important I needed to tell everyone, but—” you look down, “—I can’t remember what it was.”

“No worries, miss. It’s quite common for people in missing cases like yourself to block off traumatic experiences,” Gale speaks up.

You nod, eyebrows pinching as you look at the white tiles under your feet, missing the harsh glares the man receives from the group of adults behind you.

Detective Azura clears her throat. “We won’t bother you anymore about it, miss. If you ever do remember something in the future, please contact us. We want to prioritize your safety and the safety of anyone else who could get involved in this case, especially as your kidnappers are still at large.”

But… the adults around you know more! Why weren’t they saying anything? How are you supposed to figure out what happened if you don’t even know how you got here?

“Thank you for your time. We’ll be leaving, now.” Detective Azura nods, then spins on her heel and gestures for Detective Gale to follow.

“Wait!” you call out. “Could you tell me who found me? I… I want to thank them.”

She looks back at you. “It was a couple who found you. I’ll let them know you’d like to speak with them and send their number to your parents if they want to talk.”

“...Okay. Thank you.”

Once the detectives have rounded the corner, a silence settles over the group, and the man with silvery white hair from before steps forward, holding his hand out to you. His hair color might've aged someone else by a few years, but it didn't seem to affect this man at all. If anything, he looked pretty young; it's possible that he's one of the younger men in this group, even if only by a couple of years.

“Hi, there.” He offers a smile, the curve of it strangely familiar. “I’m Terry Valkrum, Travis’s dad. We’re both glad that you’re back. It’s nice to meet you.”

While you shake his hand, it's hard for you to return the smile or the greeting. This is just too weird.

“Yes, excuse us for not introducing ourselves earlier.” The dark-haired woman you didn’t recognize earlier leans forward, a hand curled delicately over her stern-looking husband’s arm. “I’m Rachel Lycan, and this is my husband, Derek. We’re old friends of your parents. It’s good to see you safe, though I'd hoped to meet under better circumstances.”

Lycan? As in… Aaron Lycan’s parents?

“...What are you all doing here?”

“Well, they wanted to see if you were alright. And your friends did, too,” your mom begins, her hands gentle on your shoulders. “We're all just trying to figure things out.”

You step away from her, brushing her hands off your shoulders. “Didn't sound like anything needed figuring out—not when you were talking like you knew all about what happened to me.”

Your mom's hands hang in the air for a moment before she tries moving closer to you, hurt flashing across her face. “Baby—”

“Excuse me! You aren’t supposed to be out of your room,” a nurse calls from the end of the hall. “You still need to finish your IV drip and get a check-up!”

☆

Your eyes droop as you stare blankly at the TV screen. It's been hours since you were escorted back to your room, and then poked and prodded at by three different doctors and several nurses. Between the anger you felt towards the adults and the bouts of anxiety you felt any time another doctor came in—well, it wasn’t long before your energy had been depleted once again. It seems three whole days of sleep can only do so much for you.

One of the doctors who'd come to see you was a psychiatrist, who—despite your reluctance—was a lot more helpful than the others you’d talked to.

“...showcase symptoms of retrograde dissociative amnesia, with your difficulty recalling memories about the incident. You also exhibit signs of PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Neither are directly curable, but treatments and a good support system go a long way.

Of course, getting better will take time, patience, and keeping on top of the meds I’m going to prescribe you. The good thing is that if you keep up these meetings with me and a therapist, your symptoms will become much easier to manage. In fact, it's possible for symptoms of PTSD to fade away. At least to the point where they won't affect your daily life…”

The corny drama movie characters were fighting about something on screen in a language you couldn’t even understand. The volume was low, and you hadn’t even bothered to turn on the subtitles; the drone of their voices and trying to guess what was happening had provided you with more entertainment and distraction than anything else that could be offered in this room.

“No! Shh…”

Your eyes snap towards the door, muffled voices making themselves known on the other side.

“You’re… literally going… us caught!”

“Just… in, stupid!”

You flinch back when the door is practically thrown off its hinges, the faces of familiar teenagers toppling over one another to get a look at you. Aphmau is the first to rush forward, and she doesn't seem to care about sneaking around when she yelps your name. You sit up just in time for her to throw herself onto the bed with you, pulling you into a tight hug.

Her hands are impossibly gentle over your shoulders, like she's almost afraid of hurting you, but then at the same time her arms are wrapped just as impossibly tightly around you—like she's almost afraid of losing you. For a moment, it's only Aphmau hugging you. Then someone else's arms wrap around your back, and another pair around your legs. Cheeks rest against your skin; feeling your pulse, hearing you breathe. It's almost too much, but you can’t bring any complaint to leave your lips, eyes drifting shut and taking in this warmth, this peace. Quiet hitches from in-between people's cries interrupt the delicate silence. 

This whole time, even the faces that have been familiar to you your entire life—your mom, your dad—have given you a sense of unease. You're still disoriented, still unsteady. But this... it was right. 

You trust them. 

You pull away to look across the group. There's Aphmau, clutching onto your hand as you pull away; Zane, standing in the middle of the room; Travis and Vylad leaning in from the foot of the bed; Garroth, looking down at the floor with furrowed brows. 

You know them.

But then, as you're about to call Garroth over, you see her. She's there—she's there. To your farthest right, caught in your peripheral: a pale face, waves of light blue hair, and those piercing features—so, so piercing—as she hovers over you, stretches a hand out to your face—

Your breath catches. You flinch back, hard.

But you blink, and it's not her—it never was. It's only Katelyn. And after you jerk away from your best friend's touch, her face twists in hurt. In concern. In hesitation. In desperation. It twists with the crushed hope that you would return the sentiment of sisterly love overflowing from her fingertips. 

It's only Katelyn. Just your best friend, Katelyn. And just like how you know the rest of them, you know her.

“...Are you okay?” she whispers, hand hovering over your shoulder, afraid of being rejected  again.

You swallow, then reach out to grasp her hand in your clammy one. “I think so.”

The group watches you intently as you take a moment to look over them all. They wore comfortable clothes; clearly, they’d been waiting around here for a while.

“I mean… I can’t exactly answer that yet,” you murmur after a moment. “I feel okay now, but I'm kinda tense. It’s just hard to explain because I don’t—I can't remember what happened, or what I’m supposed to be feeling upset about. It’s just… there.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself,” Vylad assures you, glancing between everyone else before giving you a soft smile. “We'll understand, no matter what you do or don’t say. We’re just glad you’re back with us.”

How is it that the kids your age are less demanding than the adults?

“Yeah, we really wanted to see you so we kinda snuck in,” Travis adds. “But if you want us to leave, we can.”

You shake your head at that. Though you aren't sure of your exact feelings right now, one thing you are sure of is that you want them to stay. 

The silence that follows lasts almost long enough to be awkward before Aphmau speaks up again.

“What do you want to do when you get back?” Aphmau asks, scooting closer to you.

What to look forward to? The quick and rather abrupt change of subject was obvious, but you still send her a grateful look.

“Take a long shower,” you say quietly. “And I want to see everyone else, too, I think.”

“We could all hang out at one of our houses, maybe!” she suggests, and Katelyn is quick to nod along. “When you’re ready, of course.” Travis and Vylad nod as well.

Everyone's heads snap towards the doorway, however, when the door's pushed open and a doctor steps in—and immediately gapes at the sight of your friends scattered around the room. “You kids aren’t supposed to be in here. How did you even…?” he trails off expectantly. When no one offers up an answer, though, he shakes his head.

“Never mind,” he sighs, stepping all the way into the room to reveal your parents standing quietly in the hallway. “All of your tests went well and future appointments are set. You are now free to go home. Now if all of you would give her some privacy to change back into her own clothes, please.”

Reluctantly, everyone stands, save for Garroth, who lingers by your side. He hasn’t said a word until now, but with the way his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, you can see he wants to.

“Sir,” the doctor calls by the door, the poor man likely exhausted from everyone—including you—refusing to follow instructions.

“Just one second, please,” he calls back, fingers digging into the bed sheets anxiously.

The doctor glances over at you, dark brows furrowing as he searches for your consent. You nod, and he relents with a sigh, shaking his head and closing the door on you both. Silence falls over the room as you slowly look back at the blond.

His mouth twists as he stares down at your hands, shoulders slouched under some invisible weight. With his hair unkempt and his eyes red and swollen—from what you assume to be a lack of sleep and an inordinate number of tears—he's a far cry from the Prince Charming you’d met on your first day of school. You can practically see the crown falling from his head as his lips wobble, the usually bright color of his irises misting over in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“...What?” you breathe, confused.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks as he leans forward and drops his head into his hands, “that I didn’t go with you. If I did—”

“Stop.”

You're both surprised by the power in your voice. The pure conviction, the wholehearted belief: that he was wrong. Slowly, Garroth looks back up at you, eyebrows pulled together as he swallows thickly.

“Even if you'd gone with me, who's to say it wouldn't have happened anyway? You might’ve even gotten hurt trying to help me.” You reach out to grab his hand. “I don’t remember much, but I know that’s true. Not a thing about this was your fault.”

“It was—”

“No. It wasn’t. How could you even think that?”

He closes his eyes. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again and closes again. He's left to purse his lips, unable to come up with a good enough response. All this guilt, this blame, with nowhere to put it. He seems confused by your response, like this wasn't the reaction he’d thought up in his self-deprecation. Had he let this guilty turmoil brew in his head? Blamed himself for the entire two weeks you were gone? The dark circles under his eyes say enough of an answer, and it’s not one you like.

“How are you not mad at me?” he whispers. “You could be. You should be.”

“Because you’re one of my closest friends. And this was something that was going to happen eventually.” You lean forward, pulling him into your arms. Strong shoulders tremble and shake, and the boy cannot hide the sniffles and choked breaths as he breaks down. “How could I be mad at someone who wants to protect me so much? Seems counterintuitive.”

He shakes his head, tucking it over your shoulder, and in one quick motion reaches out, returning your hug desperately. His arms curl tightly over your back; his fingers crumple the fabric of your hospital gown; his tears wet your neck, a rare show of vulnerability even from him, who doesn't shy away from expressing his emotions at all.

Oh, Garroth. Sweet Garroth.

“Hey. I’m back and alive and you’re crying?” You poke his side, attempting to lighten his guilty shoulders with a tease. “You could at least pretend you’re happy, you know.”

Quiet, breathy laughter hits your shoulder, his trembling shoulders switching from shaking with tears to shaking with amusement. After a moment, he pulls away, hands coming to rest on your shoulders as he sucks in a sharp breath, you assume to control what must be an intense storm of anxiousness piled up in his chest.

“I am happy.” His eyes search yours.

You smile at him the best you can. “Then I am, too.”

Garroth gives you a shaky smile of his own.“Hey, I…” He pauses, looking off. “I overheard some things about what happened to you. When the doctors were talking to your parents…" He frowns, shaking his head. "Maybe it should wait until you’re feeling better.”

“What is it?” you breathe.

There’s a knock before the door's pushed open, the doctor from before peeking in. “Mr. Ro’meave, was it? Please, you can continue this conversation later.”

Garroth gives you a last, tentative smile. "...I'll tell you later."

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz

[beau-bunny]

“who will (MCD) Aphmau choose?? Laurance?? Garroth?? Aaron?? which side will win the ship war—“ fuck that noise. this ain’t about that. it ain’t about which male wins the trophy, it’s about which love does Aphmau lose first. It’s about the loss of who dies first, who isn’t there, who is gone and who comes back. Who is there to hold her in the night, while they grieve and hope and wait for their husband to come home. How do the boys hold and love one another intimately and deeply.

How does Garroth cradle Laurance in his arms after he escapes all the torture he endured in the Nether, running his hands through his hair and telling him everything’s gonna be okay. It’s about Aaron losing his wife and feeling so hopeless, so depressed and traumatized, lost and full of bleak, self-destructive self-loathing, believing wholeheartedly that no one could ever love him like that again, only for him to find not one, but three (maybe even more!) whole people who love him and marry him and bring out the light in him again, making him smile all over again. It’s about Aphmau trying to carry the entire world on her back, trying to do everything herself and fix every single person’s problems all by herself, so the other three boys come in and tell her “hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to expend yourself like that, let me help you carry the burden for a while. rest, sleep, take care of yourself and slow down. I’ll take care of the dangers for a while.” It’s about Aphmau coming into the world alone and coming out of it with a tight-knit community and a circle of love all around her, because she just holds that much overflowing love in her heart that she has to share it all. It’s about Laurance and Aphmau teaching Garroth to love himself and build up his self-confidence after his family tore it down. It’s about Garroth learning what true family means. It’s about Laurance and Aaron recovering together at the end of it all, healing from the time they both turned into monsters because of cruel, godly forces out of their control using them like puppets. It’s about Laurance bringing fun, light, life, and confidence into Aphmau, Garroth, and Aaron’s worlds, light they all desperately need. It’s about Garroth being a soft place to land to Aphmau, Laurance, and Aaron, because they all desperately need the comfort and the stability that he provides. It’s about Aaron finding home.

It’s about healing from past mistakes and ridding yourself of guilt. It’s about maintaining your humanity and your sanity through love and family and hope. It’s about them working together as a team, because they need, need, NEED each other so badly. It’s about the four of them all slowly dying and rotting while they’re on their own, away from their partners, fighting time and space and the gods and the cosmos above to come back to them.

It’s about Laurance dying first, so Garroth and Aphmau miss him dearly and desperately try to get him back. And then it’s about Garroth disappearing next, so Laurance and Aphmau and Aaron miss him dearly and do everything in their power to get their husband back. It’s about Aaron still holding on to his self-loathing enough that when he sees Garroth loving Laurance and Aphmau, he thinks he’s so much better at loving them and so much purer of a soul than Aaron has ever felt that he genuinely believes that Laurance and Aphmau would be better off with Garroth in his place. Then it’s about Aaron dying, and all three of them are horrified and grieving, and then Aaron comes back as The Shadow Lord, and they have to fight against time and space and the gods to prove to Aaron that they love him so damn much, that he breaks free from the mind control and fights to come back. It’s about undoing the scar that Shad and Irene’s relationship left behind. It’s about all three boys giving their life in self-sacrifice, each of thinking the others will be happier without them, and each being proven so damn wrong.

It’s about all four of them reuniting at the end and getting their happily ever after together.

[chainkeepustogetherr]

FLUFF ALPHABET, JEFF BUCKLEY

( A ) AFFECTION - how affectionate are they?

oh do not even get me started… he is genuinely the pure definition of affectionate/an affectionate person. no matter what time it is, what vibe it is, where you guys currently are or what you both are currently doing, he certainly will show an unadulterated & unconditional amount of affection towards you. wether that be verbally or physically, it don’t matter one bit! he absolutely loves showering you with love at all times <3

( B ) BEAUTY - what do they admire most about you? what do they think is your most beautiful feature/attribute?

he loves your eyes, he finds solace & peace in lovingly gazing into your eyes. he often finds himself writing poetry in his mind of a million different ways to eccentrically describe them. same thing with your smile, there isn’t a lot more he loves then seeing you smile! especially when its caused by him <33

( C ) CUDDLES - do they like to cuddle? and if so, how?

YES. YES AND YES. it genuinely soothes him like no other. after a long, meticulously stressful day, his only remedy is eloping himself into your arms, or you into his.

& he is most definitely the skin to skin, chest to forehead type cuddler as opposed to spooning or any of the other “techniques”. it makes him feel as close to you as possible.

( D ) DREAMS - how do they picture their future with you?

i feel like, jeff’s not prone to thinking about the future, although. he is certain that a life without you in it would be bleak & miserable, & that he wants to spend the rest of his days as your lover

( E ) EQUAL - are they the dominant one in the relationship or passive?

i think he would definitely share both characteristics, not necessarily confined to one.

( F ) FIGHTING - what are they like during a fight? how quickly would they able to forgive/be forgiven?

id say jeff would be the kind to use words as weapons in an argument, though he would never ever raise his voice at you, or yell in any form. the second he sees tears forming within your eyes, or noticed your lack of verbal communication, he instantly rushes to your side, exclaiming how sorry he is, & how what was said wasnt meant, & that he loves you dearly

( G ) GENTLE - how gentle are they?

EXTREMELY. gentle. so so so gentle to the point where sometimes you feel as if he sees you as fragile, in the most wholesome way possible. his touch is the most delicate & gentle, alongside the way in which he tells you he loves you.

( H ) HONESTY - do they have any secrets from you? or do they share every little detail?

oh, every little detail is 1000% shared. he tells you everything, from birth to current day, mundane & classified as “boring” to moments that shaped him, its almost as if you know him just as much as he knows himself.

( I ) I LOVE YOU - how long does it take for them to say the L word? how do they say it?

he says it practically the second he feels it, most likely through a letter/poem he wrote you, or as he’s admiring you, seemingly dozing off due to his fascination with you

( J ) JEALOUSY - do they get jealous? if so, how?

yes, he tends to get slightly jealous at times. it truly depends on the person & situation. its more so a jealousy in the sense of, “thats MY lover, not yours” as opposed to an insecurity or controlling based jealousy. when jealous, he often becomes slightly smug, boasting that you are very much his, & he has the gift of being able to love you, & vice versa

( K ) KISSES - what are their kissing habits? are they a good kisser?

soft, slow & sensual would be 3 words to describe the way he kisses you. its hardly ever rushed, only ever filled with love & admiration, even in more sexual settings. & lets be real… 10/10 kisser.

( L ) LOVE CONFESSION - how do they confess their love?

1000% through a (not so) discreet love letter, pouring out every ounce of emotion he has felt for you from current day, to the moment he first laid eyes on you.

( M ) MORNINGS - how are mornings spent with them?

mornings are sooo incredibly soft w/ jeff. 9/10 you wake up entangled within each others arms, legs knotted up together, hair a total mess. he often mutters a “g’d morning my love”, before pressing a lil kiss to your temple, inching himself closer to you than before. though, morning sex is almost always guaranteed as well

( N ) NIGHTS - how are nights spent with them?

nights are often really, really calm. theyre usually spent cuddled up together on the couch, watching a stupid tv show/movie, or dancin’ around the apartment with some zeppelin playing on vinyl

( O ) ON CLOUD NINE - what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious for others? how do they express their feelings?

oh, its so stupidly obvious to practically everyone. the way in which he looks at you with soft eyes, always protective over what youre doin’, constantly asking for you to come to shows, always boasting about you, spending his afternoon’s writing poems about you, the list goes on.

he expresses them through “jokes”, or sarcasm hidden as the truth. example being, you boasting about a kind favour jeff did for you, & one of his bandmates/friends exclaiming it to be “him being totally head over heels for you”, jeff often “sarcastically” nods along saying “what can i say? its true, im totally in love with you”. “sarcastically”

( P ) PDA - are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag with their s/o in front of others? or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

i feel like, jeff would often times keep his relationship details private, feeling as though he wants to keep it between you & him, as his own, but he 10000% brags about you at any given chance. wether that be to others, or privately in his journal. though he will show you affection in public whenever he deems necessary. by no means will he stop simply because people are around

( Q ) QUIZZES - how much do they remember about you?

oh. this man remembers everything. you mentioned months ago how youd love an amethyst pendant? 4 months later he hands you one in a velvet bag. you mentioned years ago you loved glitter pens when you were a child? the ink recently ran out on your favourite pen? guess what kind of pen jeff mysteriously gives you? a glitter pen. he remembers your order to every food store, he notices & remembers the things that calm you down, the way you react to specific things, everything,

( R ) ROMANCE - how romantic are they?

i dont even need to go there.

this man, will write you novels upon novels of poems about his undying love for you, without any form of reasoning. he would do anything for you, anything to make you happy, & anything to show you that he cares

( S ) SECURITY - how protective are they of you?

extremely protective. again, he would do anything to make sure you were happy, healthy & safe. even if it meant risking something of his own.

( T ) TRY - how much effort do they put into dates/special occasions?

so so so so so so so so much effort. he’ll plan it for weeks upon weeks, remembering every little thing youve told him you loved or wanted, & placing it into one (multiple) special days.

(A/N;)

a blurb & other lil proper works are comin’ soon !! currently in the making<3

FOR NOW, enjoy this !

[choodraws]

Choo I take regular long scrolls through your art here when high, down or idle, and I saw some tags on recent work; I'm so sorry to hear these years have been so bad for you!!!!! I hope dearly that things get better soon, and you can flourish as you ought to. Best wishes from some girl on the internet!!!

aw thank you very much! i appreciate your well wishes, it makes me happy to hear that people do still check out my art on occasion even though i'm not around or posting anything new. road ahead admittedly looks a little bleak but i'm still pushing forward and doing my best 😭🖤

[orcasoul]

Din Djarin Imagine #2

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word Count: 683

Secretly in love with you Din, who at first didn't understand the invisible and magnetic pull he felt towards you as he spent more time in your company. Who, when he first employed you as a mechanic on the Razor Crest, didn't expect you to take on the role of joint caretaker for Grogu, but is so glad you did. Who's heart radiates warmth and contentment as he observes the close bond and maternal love you have towards his foundling.

Secretly in love with you Din, who finds himself treasuring the quiet moments the three of you share as you travel through hyperspace, and nervously anticipating (in a good way), the time spent in just each others' company while the baby is asleep. Who spent his life training to be a fearless warrior capable of handling any situation, only to discover that no amount of instruction could have prepared him for you, and how you make him feel; nervous yet bold, calm yet anxious, grounded yet free falling into oblivion.

Secretly in love with you Din, who goes out of his way to make sure you are happy being here with him and Grogu, Wether it be indulging your silly (and adorable) antics with his mischievous son - he often wonders who is the bigger kid on times - or taking time out between bounties at your insistence because, as you stressed to him, "you need to unwind mentally as well as physically". Who melts at your concern for his well being, not being used to someone else caring for him as you do and if truth be told, your gentle and attentive nature towards him makes him fall for you deeper and deeper every day.

Secretly in love with you Din, who could watch you for hours, committing to memory the way your brows draw together and how the tip of your tongue pokes out between your lips when concentrating on a particularity tricky job, how your sweet laughter echoes through the bleak and dreary ship, giving it a life all of it's own and his personal favourite; the way your eyes always seem to find his behind his visor, as if there was no Beskar barrier between you.

Secretly in love with you Din, who rages inwardly as he holds you through the aftermath of yet another night terror. Who's heart shatters every time you sob into his chest (he'd began removing his chest plate in the nights lately, so you can feel the warmth and comfort of his embrace when you need it the most), fingers clutching at the material of his clothing like it's your lifeline. Who whispers soft assurances into your ear about how he will never let anyone hurt you again and silently promises himself that, no matter how long it takes, one day he will find those bastards responsible for your suffering and they will pay dearly.

Secretly in love with you Din, who hopes that he's not imagining the shift that seems to be happening between you both lately. Who prays to the maker that he's not just seeing what he wants to see when you shuffle closer to his side as you walk, when your hand lingers longer than is necessary on his arm, and when your eyes appear to want to convey to him something you seem uncomfortable with saying out loud. Who wants nothing more in those moments than to be able to sweep you into his arms and confess everything he's been holding onto for so long, but is afraid that if he's wrong about this, he'll potentially destroy the beautiful friendship that has blossomed between you both and the relationship you have with Grogu.

Secretly in love with you Din, who has never felt so much love and devotion to another woman in all his years. Who feels whole and at home when he's with you and will do whatever it takes to keep you. Who will never give you any reason to leave... even if it means having to hide his true feelings from you for the rest of his life.

[altocat]

One of the things that get me about the new chapter is Angeal brushing off Sephiroth calling himself a weapon, a machine and a fake hero. But years later he can’t find a fraction of that for himself. Also Sephiroth calling himself a machine after the cyborg thing.

Just a couple of observations.

Sephiroth depersonalizing himself is heartbreaking. It was already a sore spot for him in Ep 1 but this is full pitch black hopelessness on his end. He doesn't question. He doesn't get attached. He just performs like a trained animal and that's it. His self-esteem has taken a nosedive after losing the FS trio.

As such, he's pretty gloomy. He doesn't seem to enjoy anything anymore. Not fighting. Not socializing. Nothing really. He's checked out and uninterested in this mission. He doesn't want to get involved with Angeal because he knows what will happen--it's just more heartbreak. And the worst part is that he's RIGHT...at least in a few years from now.

Hojo has probably filled Sephiroth's head with all sorts of ugly things since his return from Rhadore. Sephiroth could be parroting things Hojo has said to him directly, similar to how he kept referencing Hojo in Ep 1.

Angeal not taking his own advice is standard Angeal lol his own sense of identity is pretty shattered in Crisis Core to the point where he doesn't process the very hope that used to keep him alive. Some people might call him a hypocrite for it. I say that's a cop out explanation. It's really a matter of Angeal finally having to deal with the extremely bleak reality of what he is and the people who made him. Which breaks him. And understandably so. It would break anyone. It broke both Genesis and Sephiroth.

Sephiroth's current depressed self-perception makes the Lucrecia scene all the more heartbreaking because it forms an identity that Sephiroth longs to have but doesn't--his mother gives him a purpose, a feeling of belonging. One that he would readily trade everything for.

Sephiroth not wanting to open up to Angeal could thaw the more his mental state deteriorates, especially with Alissa in tow. I think Sephiroth will come to trust and care for Angeal not because of of battlefield support, but because Angeal will end up seeing Sephiroth in a broken/messy state and embrace him for it, support him, talk him through it. Which would really hammer home why Sephiroth cherished him (and Genesis) so dearly.

And I think Sephiroth is eventually going to have some sort of meltdown in which Angeal makes or break their relationship by standing by him at his absolute worst.

[crypticsketchpad]

what a nice happy group of siblings i sure hope nothing bad happens to them- oh

Eekto, the eldest; quiet, but responsible and loving towards its family / the quiet “head” of the family, always in danger of drowning in its own saliva

Nock, the second oldest; a lively chatterbox who tries to befriend anyone it meets / a lively chatterbox who tries to befriend anyone it meets, even if it can’t see how bleak its life is

Matrix, the middle; an aspiring inventor with a passion for technology / a misguided inventor with a passion for body modification but no regard for anyone but themself

Fraktal, the second youngest; a witty jewelry enthusiast who’s always there to help its loved ones / a mangled wreck, with whatever remains of its past self forever trapped in its decaying brain

Zyphur, the youngest; a shy and introverted lover of insects who looks up to all its dearly beloved siblings / a shy and isolated individual who wishes it was the one who died that day

+ full versions of both