#I almost started crying putting those words together in sentences and I'm not ashamed to admit that

[astraioskosmos]

The Moth has cursed me once more with its yearning and so tonight I reminisce about what was as compared to what is, and my eternal love I ask a question to you; Did you know that I used to whisper to the Elegiast during the coldest nights in the softest whisper that he may allow us to be remembered together? That our names may be written side to side in his scroll so that even in Eternity we would be close? That if we were to be trinkets that he may place us next to each other, cold porcelain brushing against colder stone so that even in death I may imitate holding your hand?

My eternal love, did you know I used to sow tiny secrets to the Velvet in my dreams about us so that even the divine may know of our mutual adoration? That stone or wood-bark or soft soil in the Wood will forever have our initials scratched into them under her gaze? I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, by feeding the Velvet tiny pieces of our deepest desires she may favor us, and with that favor she may shelter and conceal us in the roots of the trees so that when the world got too big- too scary- we may have a place to go to and hide together until the fear lessened and dissappeared?

My heart still beats inside my chest like a drum, but my most precious love, do you know of how much quieter it is without you? It cannot be stilled and yet I can swear I have felt it cease its thunderous dance everytime the fear of you not coming back became too strong. In those moments I wondered, "is this how the Thunderskin felt?" for it loved the Ring-Yew, and yet none know if the Ring-Yew loved him back. Did his heart then feel as raw as mine as the Red Grail flayed him under the gaze of his love? Is he now doomed to be forever bruised as he is beaten like a drum to protect the skin of the world, to preserve the Wake, but never to know the affections of the Malachite? I fear that I too will be forever bruised to never again have your arms around me, your lips on mine and your voice and its sweet words in my ears.

And so my love, do you know of the Moth haunting me? Do you know of its yearning, of the restlessness so strong that even the Malachite cannot renew and heal my broken soul for all that would heal me is you? Do you know of the whispers in the coldest and darkest nights, now not to the Elegiast anymore but to another Hour that would be kind enough to listen so you may come back to me? Do you know of the scratched secrets and the roots, of how I read them on my fingertips and hide in them alone so that I may remember the spark of our love once more, so that I may imagine the feeling of your warmth once again?

Love is always at the whims of the Hours- so says the Sun-in-Splendor and the Forge of Days, the Thunderskin and the Ring-Yew, the Malachite and the Mare-in-the-Tree, The Wheel and the Flint, but we are not Hours and so I pray our love endures despite it all and my soul and heart find solace and healing in yours. I pray we grow old together, and when the time comes for us to come home to the Wood until we either pass the Stag Door or drift down into Nowhere the Elegiast will write our names side to side and honors the memory of who we were, what we went through, and of our love for Eternity.

[sweetestlamb]

Lighting Up Your Life- A teaser

A/N: I won't say sorry because I really needed a mental break from writing and I hope you all understand that but I'm back now with a lil teaser for the IOTNBO present I'd promised. Full story coming soon, this is part of the Lightning Up Your World storyline. Thanks for your patience. Sorry for typos I wrote this at a party lmao it got boring so my mind started wandering oops.

BMTL coming soon too for those waiting that just takes longer because it's a chapter fic I need certain things to connect so I'm rereading old chapters and slowly getting it together❤️

Contrary to what he's seen in idyllic movies, marriage is not the serene happy ending that's depicted. They fight, her screaming and him walking away; his defense mechanism since young and he's changed plenty since meeting her but some habits are hard to break. He doesn't get far though because at her first cry, with shiny tears running down her pretty face he crumbles, "Don't walk away from me, you're my husband!" She's always been possessive and since they met on that faithful bloody day she has considered him hers. But hearing that title, one that he hasn't shouldered for too long wipes away almost all of his annoyance with her.

He loves being her husband, adores calling her his wife. After all these years of loneliness he finally has someone who waits for him and waves him off in the morning, his person. He'd once called her a firecracker spitefully- stupidly- but he's learned that she's actually a volcano, once it erupts it changes everything in its wake. His very fiber has been enriched by her presence.

"I love you."

It depletes the flames in her eyes, another fight about him not being home enough. Between work and school he can barely find time to breathe much less entertain a certain author and she does not hide her dissatisfaction with him. No, she's never been one to hide her anger. But this time he's said the right thing and she scoffs before slinking across the distance they placed between each other, melting into his arms her small face disappearing into his chest. He snuggles her closer, planting a soft kiss on her dark head which is longer now, flowing down her back. Her mother no longer having a hold on her. He'd been proud of every inch.

"You're just trying to stop me from arguing," she whines, but he takes it as a silent victory when she doesn't push him away.

"I don't want to fight. I'm sorry I fell asleep yesterday, I'll give you more attention." He'd taken a day off tomorrow to take her on a date, but that's a surprise. Despite their fiery rows he has never grown tired of her wanting him around all the time, he feels the same but it's harder to express that. Expressing himself in general still an uphill battle.

"Mmmm what to you mean by attention?" She replies coyly, tongue in cheek.

That innocuous sentence is all it takes to make all the blood in his head rush downwards. She's not the only one who has missed that.

He groans into her dark jasmine scented hair, louder when she chuckles deeply scratching manicured nails against the sliver of skin exposed by his hip.

"I'm hungry. Feed me first before you suck me dry."

He spaced out for a second imagining just that, him sucking her dry and her squirming under him squeals and breathy moans drowning the room. It's a beautiful image. His blood boils to a simmer.

His voice is thick when he responds, "What do you want to eat?"

Deja vu hits him recalling the last time he asked that question and her raunchy reply, you. He'd almost crashed the car on that day, clamping his legs together in order to hide her affect on him with those straightforward words.

She smirks as if remembering the same moment. Damn minx.

"I want noodles."

He takes a deep breath, calming his body before releasing her. Rearranging the hardnes digging into his denim, he purposely ignores her satisfied grin. He's not ashamed of her affect on him, he's just a man. Or so he tries to tell himself.

"Okay that sounds easy enough-"

"And curry. Oh and those eggs I like and do we have brownies I want that too! And two bowls of rice."

He stands mouth gaping taking in all the food his very petite girlfriend has requested.

But in the end, he doesn't question her appetite feeding her everything she demanded to not do so would only lead to another unnecessary argument and little Gang-tae whimpers in frustration when she promptly passes out on the couch after devouring it all, barely chewing in between. He had to force her to drink water lest she choke.

It's not completely unusual he has seen her put away more food than her body weight before, yet she remains as slim as ever. It's quite the mystery.

He's able to easily lift her slight body off the couch and barely contain his coo when she automatically snuggles into him with a sigh, she can be cute when she's not raising hell. So about forty-five percent of the time give or take.

He undresses her, forcing himself to look away from the lace and silk adorning her seductive figure noting a slight bump in a belly. Maybe the food is going somewhere, finally. He pats her little belly, it's adorable.

His beautiful wife.

He strips himself down to his boxers and slides into their bed, dragging her into his arms before letting the fatigue of the day wash over him and knock him into a peaceful slumber.

When he is later jolted from his sleep, he has no idea why at first a quick check of the clock reveals that it's far too early to be awake, 5:45 the numbers flash. Pushing his hair off his face he finally realizes that he's alone in bed left with only a small indent of where his wife should be.

Then the grogginess begins to wear off and a gut wrenching sound reaches his ears. Instinctively he leaps out of bed, following the sound and winding up in the doorway of the bathroom peering through the darkness at Mun-yeong squatting on the cold tile floor retching into the toilet.

His heart instantly drops shattering into pieces.

Please no. She can't be sick. I can't lose her.

[curseofbreadbear]

groovepawn​:

An ashamed expression showed on Shiki’s visage as the security guard continued reprimanding her, but it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been judged for the way she personified the emotions of stuffed animals, especially regarding her age. She severs the thread that remained, tucking the needle in her satchel as she once again shifted to hold her own plush to her chest. It wasn’t her, just… being playfully or delusional.

They really were sad.

“But they are,” of course they wanted to go home with new families, but they wanted to be whole as they did, they didn’t want to risk being returned or exchanged, “they all have feelings, and souls, like Mr. Mew.” Surely she must have some idea what Shiki was saying, right? All the children here could understand it, shouldn’t a woman employed by the company have some inclination to the fact, too?

She looks at the name badge the guard adorned, “Can’t you feel it, Ms. Vanessa? When you look in their eyes?” She hold up her beloved stuffed cat, and while his threaded white gaze wasn’t as large and expressive as anything from Freddy’s, Shiki would assure anyone he had a wide array of emotions behind his stare.

“Even… the animatronics have hearts. That’s why they’re so fun, and full of life,” ever the empathy, Shiki almost looked as though she were about to start crying, “only they’re not stuck sitting on a shelf, falling apart.”

[Feelings...and souls.]

[Vanessa pinched the bridge of her nose, utterly dumbfounded by the brunette's words; these were stuffed toys created in a factory. They had no souls, no thoughts or emotions of their own. The only ones who could string a sentence together were the ones installed with voiceboxes, and all of those were pre-programmed with, what, two or three phrases? They were hardly sentient.]

[Still, since the teen had at least apologized and cut the thread ( as demanded ), Vanessa frowned and stared into the eyes of the cat( ? pig? ) she was holding up. As anticipated, there was nothing there. It was just a stuffed animal, although it seemed to have more care put into it than the plushies here at the Pizzaplex. Vanessa put a hand on her hip, raising one of her eyebrows -- she was beginning to question this girl’s sanity.]

❝ Sorry, kid. I don't see it. ❞ [Her apology was disingenuous, but that didn't really matter; this was just an interaction with an "unruly" customer that had lasted a tad too long for her taste.] ❝ Really, the only "sad" part is how tacky they look. Rest assured, they don't have actual feelings -- you might wanna get yourself evaluated if you think otherwise. Or...you could just be projecting. ❞ 

[Vanessa stifled a laugh at the notion of the animatronics having hearts and being "full of life;" they were fun, sure, but when you worked up-close and personal with them, you got a first-hand look at just how mechanical they really were. The intricacies of A.I. were indeed beyond Vanessa, but she knew enough to realize that what the animatronics experienced weren't genuine feelings -- it was just advanced programming, meant to replicate emotion. Her sister would have known a lot more about that, though...]

❝ Oh, don't make me laugh -- ❞ [If this were a kid, Vanessa might hold back from this "revelation" -- shattering the illusion might break a few hearts and lead to less revenue ( which would, in turn, get her fired ) -- but this was a teenager. She could handle it.] ❝ Freddy and his friends aren't any more "full of life" than one of your beloved stuffed animals. The "heart" you see in them? That's just some sophisticated A.I., made to help them feel real. They aren't. I'm sure they'd be surprised to hear that their emotions are built on nothing but code, but that's just it -- they’re supposed to believe that they’re “alive,” as much as a machine can be, that they do have genuine feelings like the rest of us. The shows just wouldn't be the same if they were as mechanical as their predecessors, right? ❞ 

❝ So, no -- they can’t feel anything, either. Not really. Deep down, they're programs and nothing more. Now -- are we done here? ❞