#Lostlove

[oldwinesoul]

[webweabings]

FINDING A LOST LOVER

Jonathan Carroll; // M. Edwards; // Sue Zhao; // Alexander Dumas, from "The Count of Monte Cristo" tr. Robin Buss; // Mary Oliver from "Thirst"; //Margaret Atwood from "Selected Poems 2: 1976 - 1986"; // Euripides from "Orestes"; // Cassandra Clare from "Lady Midnight"

[aloneinthedarkpath]

[cluelessteam]

Hi! Could I request this for Daemon? I've been really interested in the whole haunting for Damon

in the latest season and just wanted charmed and thought Daemon might come across the spirit of his late ex-lover at Harrenhal. She was Otto's eldest daughter who passed away before they could wed. There's a chance that Otto mistakenly poisoned her instead of Daemon, in an attempt to stop their marriage. She confides in Daemon about the specifics of her death, and he finds closure by being able to embrace her, kiss her, and be intimate with her. Alys Rivers was someone she adored and cared for, perhaps as a motherly figure. Alys might continue to trigger visions of his former lover in Daemon, but not with harmful intentions; it could be rooted in her affection for her maternal figure. This could serve as the first part of a two-part series, and the suspenseful conclusion could be Alys' revelation that she intends to bring her back to life, potentially leading to Damon's unexpected shift in allegiance in the series 😏💚❤️‍🔥

{~Shadows of Harrenhal~}

A/N: First of all I just want to say thank you for requesting this!!! I am sooo sorry that it took me to song for me to write this for you! I really hope you enjoy this and I'm really sorry if it's not entirely what you wanted but I tried! 😭

Summary: Daemon Targaryen encounters the spirit of his lost love, Otto Hightower’s eldest daughter, who died before they could wed. Alys Rivers offers Daemon a way to bring her back, binding their souls but at a high cost. As he’s consumed by their supernatural connection, Daemon faces a painful choice: keep her and lose himself, or release her and find peace.

Characters: Daemon & Alys

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1983

Tag List:

Part 1 ---

Daemon Targaryen never considered himself a man bound by ghosts. He took what he wanted, feared little, and answered to no one. But there was one shadow that followed him, one face that haunted his dreams in the depths of the night—a woman he loved fiercely, his intended bride, taken from him before they could wed. She was Otto Hightower’s eldest daughter, his love, his match, and a memory that clawed at his heart like iron scraping bone.

And now, they say, she wanders Harrenhal.

The torches cast jagged shadows across the cracked walls as Daemon strode through the desolate corridors of the ancient castle. Alys Rivers, dark-eyed and silent, led the way, her steps so light she seemed to glide. Daemon had come here on a whim, drawn by rumors of Alys’s talents. They spoke of her sight, her ability to reach beyond the veil, of a power that could evoke spirits, and conjure memories from the other side. Daemon had scoffed at such tales, but here he was, heart pounding with a hope he would not admit, even to himself.

They reached an old, nearly forgotten hall where the light seemed thinner, barely touching the cold stone. Alys turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “She is near,” she murmured.

Daemon’s throat tightened. “Bring her to me, then.”

Alys did not respond immediately; instead, she stepped back, her dark eyes meeting him with an expression that seemed both compassionate and haunting. With a few whispered words that faded into the stillness, she raised her hands, her fingers moving through the air as though drawing open a curtain unseen.

And then, Daemon felt it—a stirring, a ripple in the atmosphere. The air grew colder, tingling with a sensation he couldn’t quite place as if something forgotten was being called to life once more.

Then he saw her.

She stood in the shadows, her form translucent yet unmistakable. She looked exactly as he remembered—elegant and poised, with a softness that made his heart twist with longing. Her eyes, deep and expressive, locked onto his, and he took a step closer, not daring to blink, terrified she might vanish like all the memories he’d clung to for so long.

“Daemon,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that cut through the chill around them.

His breath left him in a shudder. “Gods… I thought I’d lost you forever.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, filled with a rawness he’d never shown to another soul.

She smiled, though it was a sad, broken thing. “You did lose me, Daemon. And not by fate or sickness, but by the hand of my blood.” Her voice trembled, anger mingling with sorrow. “I did not die by chance. My father took me from you.”

Daemon’s expression hardened. He had suspected Otto’s hand in her untimely death, but hearing it from her lips was a dagger to his heart. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his voice rough, desperate.

She paused, looking down at her hands, then back at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He planned to poison you, Daemon. To ensure I would never stand beside you as your wife, to keep our marriage from bringing you closer to the throne. But he miscalculated…” Her voice broke, and she looked away, pain flickering across her face. “The cup he brought me that night was meant for you. I drank it, thinking it a gesture of his blessing, of forgiveness. And as I lay there, gasping, as I felt the life draining from my body… he looked at me with horror.”

Daemon’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as rage surged within him. “He killed you to stop me. That insufferable snake took you from me.”

She nodded, her form flickering faintly in the cold light. “In his eyes, I was a casualty… a necessary one to prevent what he feared most.” Her voice softened, eyes searching his face. “I only wish I could have said goodbye.”

They were silent for a moment, the weight of her words heavy in the air. Daemon’s gaze softened as he took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out, though he stopped just short of touching her. “I would have burned the realm to keep you safe,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I would have done anything.”

She stepped closer, her presence faint but solid enough that he could feel a sliver of warmth, a remnant of the life they had once hoped to share. “And I would have walked through fire for you,” she replied, a fierce glimmer in her eyes. “I would have given up anything to be by your side, Daemon.”

He reached out again, his fingers trembling, unsure if he would feel her touch or if his hand would pass through. To his surprise, he felt her—a chill against his skin, yet grounding, familiar. Her hands found his, delicate and weightless.

They stood in silence, foreheads touching, a thousand unspoken words exchanged in that moment. The years melted away, and for a fleeting heartbeat, it felt as if they were the same two souls they had once been—wild, passionate, and bound by a love that defied the very gods.

Daemon’s hand moved up, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin as if memorizing her once more. “I swore you’d be mine,” he whispered, voice trembling with both rage and longing. “And now… I don’t know how to let you go again.”

She placed a ghostly hand over his heart, her touch soft but resonant. “You don’t have to,” she whispered, leaning in until her lips met his.

The kiss was electric, a union of fire and ice. His heart thundered as he held her, feeling her presence consume him, grounding him as if she were still alive, warm, and vibrant. Time slowed

each kiss, each caress an echo of the life they’d never had the chance to share. His arms tightened around her as if holding her would anchor her to him, to the world of the living.

When their kiss finally broke, she looked at him, full of sorrow and love. “Daemon,” she whispered, “you must let me rest. But promise me… promise me you will never let him win. Do not let my death be in vain.”

He nodded, his jaw set with grim determination. “I’ll avenge you and make him pay for what he took from us.”

Daemon’s hand slipped from hers as her form began to wane, her eyes glistening with the silent plea she had left him with: Do not let my death be in vain. He watched helplessly as her spirit faded, leaving behind an unbearable emptiness that seemed to deepen the shadows of Harrenhal.

Before the silence could swallow him whole, Alys Rivers stepped closer, her gaze steady and enigmatic. She observed him with the measured patience of one who’d seen such grief many times before, her expression a strange blend of compassion and steel. She placed a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to her, breaking the spell of despair that had settled over him.

“You truly loved her,” Alys said softly, a question and a statement all at once.

Daemon’s eyes blazed as he turned to her. “She was everything.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, stripped bare of his usual pride. “But that is why I will never forgive that serpent, her father. I would see the world burn to have her back.”

Alys gave a slow, deliberate nod, seeming to weigh his words. She stepped around him, the hem of her dark gown whispering over the cold stone. “I can bring her back,” she murmured, each word a tantalizing promise that hung in the air. Her gaze held his, unflinching. “But such magic is costly, Daemon Targaryen. Some forces bind the dead to the afterlife, threads that, once severed, cannot be mended without consequence.”

Daemon’s fists clenched as he took in her words, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Name the price.”

She studied him for a long moment, and Daemon could feel her searching, reaching into the parts of him that he kept hidden. “You would risk your very soul, your bloodline… even your crown, to bring her back. Once life is restored, it can’t be undone again. She will come back to the world of the living, but such magic leaves scars.” Her voice softened. “And the price would not only be yours to bear. Those who defy death are never left unmarked.”

Daemon let her words sink in, the fire in him dimming with a slow, mounting horror. He could bring her back, but at what cost? Would she return whole, or would she bear some shadow, a remnant of the darkness she’d been drawn from? And yet, could he walk away, knowing this chance existed?

He turned away, his gaze dark as he looked over the desolate hall. “What must I sacrifice, exactly?”

Alys tilted her head, her dark eyes shadowed and knowing. “Your life as you know it, Daemon. Your heart will belong to her… entirely, without room for another. And if you defy the magic or the price of it, her soul will suffer the consequences. The magic demands loyalty, and as such, it would demand yours.”

Daemon’s mind raced, visions of their past together flooding his thoughts. She had been his match in every way—her laughter, her fire, her unyielding spirit, and the fierce, defiant way she’d loved him. He couldn’t count the times he’d dreamt of her, only to wake and remember that she was gone, lost to him by the hand of the one man he’d trusted least.

Alys’s voice was soft as she continued. “You know she saw me as a mother, as a friend. I would never harm her. But bringing her back… it will bind us all together in ways that none of us can predict. The magic is as old as these stones. It cannot be controlled once it begins.”

He met her gaze, his eyes intense, a silent question in them. “You would do this for her?” His voice was softer, guarded. “Even knowing the risk?”

Alys stepped closer, her expression softening with a trace of vulnerability. “For her, yes. She was dear to me, and her loss… it felt as though I’d lost a part of myself.” She hesitated, her gaze drifting as if looking into another world. “But Daemon, you must understand—this will change you. The Daemon Targaryen you know now will not survive unscathed. You might find yourself in conflict with those you once held dear, bound by forces that even you cannot defy.”

Daemon’s gaze darkened. His mind flickered to those he might be forced to forsake: his family, the throne… perhaps even the very kingdom he had once sought to rule. The sacrifices twisted at his mind, a hollow ache forming in his chest. Could he do this, knowing he might become unrecognizable to himself, bound to a fate he couldn’t undo?

And yet, her face lingered in his mind, a flickering light in the shadows.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he let his heart answer before his mind could. When he looked back at Alys, his resolve was clear. “I accept. She was my life—whatever is left of me now is hers.”

Alys regarded him, a small, knowing smile curving her lips. “Very well,” she murmured, a flicker of satisfaction in her gaze. “But remember Daemon, once this path is set in motion, it cannot be reversed. And if the cost becomes too great, the only way to save her will be to destroy yourself.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with fierce determination. “If that is what’s required, then so be it.”

Alys gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable as she extended her hand toward him. “Then come, Prince Daemon. The ritual begins tonight.”

[underthemexicansun]

[inkheartpoems]

Does pain holds any power?

It does not unit ,it finds its own way to deal with it .

Some intangible force guides this pain when you don't know how to react.

Pain is not something we cannot hold on for long .

It's a continuous pressure from inside,

Once this pressure breaks down into pieces.

I don't know how to react, I don't express it aggressively.

I don't even cry often.

This pain always keeps me miserable.

Numbness possessed all over my emotions.

Worst of it i can't fantasies about you anymore in my head .

It's like a bow i aimed inversely to my heart , the feeling of you is so dry,that my visions are blurring your image in my head .

It scares me but I know you were never mine to hold on .

It's not just you that's keeping me this devastated.

It's all the matters I have made of .it's all the particles I have been recived inside my body .

Having a good sleep is a distant drem to my mind . Not controlled,but trapped by it.

Now I'm diving into pain maybe . Not expecting anything but wondering, yeh I saw this coming .

As deep as I go in these feelings I feel like I'm holding something out of my power, once i let this in .

I might break down this pain or I can turn this into power. to see the wisdom

[heartstrings-and-hauntings]

Pretty and Pink

A lesson that was wanted to keep, Never learned, always on repeat. The feeling was unmatched, Nothing could compete, Until emptiness took over, Replaced what should feel complete.

Blinded by a foolish heart, The loveliest shade of pink. All doubts remain, Lingering with a haunting ghost.

The joke is clear; a lost and wandering soul, Clinging to memories that might not be real. Just a way to pass the time, But joy was brought to these days.

A lesson that could never be kept, The universe chose a different plan. One will remember, and another forget, The journey continues—reluctantly met.

[caleadon-blog]

tsuioku merry go round

The Melancholy of the Carousel of Memories in 'Tsuioku Merry Go Round'

The song 'Tsuioku Merry Go Round' by Fairy Tail is a deep reflection on nostalgia and the pain of lost love. The lyrics, filled with metaphors and poetic imagery, transport us to a carousel of memories, where the speaker revisits past moments with a loved one who is no longer present. The repetition of the term 'merry-go-round' symbolizes the cyclical, unending nature of memories and emotions that endlessly whirl in the protagonist's mind.

At the beginning of the song, the speaker describes the pain of a farewell, where tears and harsh words mark the end of a relationship. The image of the carousel spinning in a world of dreams represents the attempt to escape painful reality, yet also the inability to fully let go of the past. The lyrics suggest that, despite appearing strong, the loved one also suffered internally, repressing their tears and emotions.

As the song progresses, the speaker expresses a deep longing to reunite with this person, even if only in dreams or memories. Nostalgia is heightened by the remembrance of shared gestures and moments, which continue to burn in the protagonist's heart. The lyrics also touch on the idealization of the past, where the cells of the body seem to beautify past loves, making separation even more painful. In the end, the pursuit of a chance for reunion, however unlikely, keeps the flame of hope and lost love alive.

The song 'Tsuioku Merry Go Round' is a powerful exploration of nostalgia, pain, and hope that accompany the loss of love. Through its metaphors and poetic imagery, the song captures the essence of human emotions, becoming a moving and universal piece about the experience of love and loss.

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Kenpachi Zaraki (Bleach) Chapter 6

"(Y/N)-chan we have to keep running!”

“Tarou I-I can’t..” You whimper.

Your feet were bruised and beaten. He wasn't any better. You were exhausted and hungry.

“Just leave me behind.” You sobbed.

Growing up here was tough. You truly thought that as you got older you would be stronger. Both of you had promised to join the squad barracks as soul reapers. The hope was to lead a life that was more useful.

Tarou kneeled, giving you a gentle smile. You could hear the screams of the hollow in the distance, and you flinched. He took your hands.

“I’m not going to leave you, because becoming reapers wasn’t the only promise I made.” He lifted you into his arms as he guided you to a covered area, and when he tucked you in the bark of a broken off tree, you were confused.

“T-Tarou..?”

He just grinned.

“I’m going to become a strong reaper, a captain. Then the both of us are going to get married and live happily ever after.” You blushed at the statement, and he leaned forward, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. When he pulled away, your tears came streaming down.

“I’ll definitely make you fall for me and make you my bride. “

He stood, and you reached out, but he was already running off in the direction of the hollow.

“Ta..rou..TARAOU!!!!”

Your eyes fix on the stone before you, the scribble of words written on it.

Tarou (L/N).

He’d died so young.

“I’m sorry we never got that happy ending. I wish I could have given you more than just my last name. You deserved so much more.”

You’d managed to crawl out of the forest. When the reapers finally showed up, it was too late. All you could see was the blood that covered his body. It hurt. More than you wanted to accept.

That was probably the moment that you decided that fighting for others was a waste of time. He’d given up his life for you. Deprived himself of a future over a dream he never had a chance to achieve. Coming here used to bring you nothing but pain.

But everything was different now.

You are different now.

“I met someone, Tarou. You would like him. He’s a bit of a loose canon. Kind of like you were when we were kids. He’s really bad at focusing on anything that isn’t related to fighting. But he has someone that he cares about more than his own life. Someone he lives to protect. Kind of like how you always did for me. I guess hearing me gush over another guy would make you a little jealous huh.” You laugh, rubbing your neck.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a bit oblivious.”

The wind tossed your robes.

“(Y/N)-san?”

The voice in the background catches you by surprise.

“Hanataro?”

He’s holding a bouquet of flowers and his eyes moved to the grave stone.

“You knew Tarou-san?”

You’re shocked that he does.

“W-We grew up together.” You explain.

“I had no idea. Tarou-kun protected me a lot when we were in Rukongai. I always thought it was because we looked so similar. “

The resemblance was prominent. It’s possible they could have been brothers and just never knew. You were all orphans after all.

It sort of makes sense now.

Hanataro places the flowers down.

“I really looked up to him. A part of me always wanted to be like him.” You look over at Hanataro.

“You are just like him.He wasn’t very strong either. “

Your words catch his attention.

“Despite his limits, he used every breath in his body to protect me. Down to the very end. I guess that’s why somewhere along the way I stopped caring. “

Hantaro listens attentively.

“I used to be hopeful and full of belief in the cause, but when I lost him I lost that. Reapers that I knew in those times weren’t all good. There were some really cruel ones that took advantage of their power. They didn’t protect us like they said they would. At some point I..I became just like them.” You pressed a hand to your face.

“He would probably hate who I turned out to be.”

You were disappointed in yourself.

“I don’t believe that. I think he would be proud that you figured out how to protect again. “

Hanataro’s words make you look up.

“You lost someone special, it’s natural that you would feel hurt and lose hope. But despite what you believe in, both times you thought I was in danger you threw yourself in front of it to save me. You’re a hero. “

His smile is warm, and you can’t help but return it. You grab him by the shoulder ruffling his hair.

“You really are just like him, you softie.”

“(Y/N)-chan stop it, you're messing up my hair!!”

It was nice hearing those words.

~

After the visit, you walk back with Hanataro feeling refreshed. You only slow down when the familiar head of green hair pops out.

“There you are Hanataro! I was worried.” She runs in giving him a hug.”

“I’m fine Fuka-chan.”

Somehow the moment reminds you of the way you always clung to Tarou.

When her eyes turn to you, she’s glaring at you.

“D-Do you have a crush on Hana-kun!! I’m not going to give him up to anyone!!”

Hanataro panics, cheeks flushed.

“F-Fuka-chan w-what are you saying!!”

“I don't have a crush on him.” You state.

“Then why are you always around him! You must have feelings for him.”

Your eyes drift over his form, and the words he spoke that day to protect his friend seem to run through your head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It was admirable.

“He reminds me of someone that I used to know. Someone I cared about. Family.”

The sadness reflected shocks her. Fuka takes a step forward, no longer on the defensive. She bows

“P-Please continue to protect him!”

You aren’t fully sure, but it feels like she realizes it. When she straightens there’s a sense of understanding in her eyes. Like she knows what you’ve been through. It’s weird and comforting in a sense.

“I’ll do my best.”

[moonshadowmystique]

When Love Comes Too Late: A Lesson in Embracing What Matters

There’s a moment that keeps replaying in my mind—a moment I can never take back, no matter how much I wish I could. The realization that I loved him didn’t come in a grand, cinematic epiphany. It crept in slowly, with quiet whispers of "what if?" and "why didn’t I see this before?"

We were friends, or so I thought. We laughed together, shared late-night conversations, and leaned on each other through hard times. I always admired how kind he was, how he seemed to understand me in ways no one else did. But I never let my mind wander too far. We were friends, and that’s all it could be—until I realized it wasn’t.

I noticed it when he started to drift away. Maybe it was the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, or how our conversations became shorter, less frequent. A part of me wondered if he had met someone else, and my chest tightened at the thought. That’s when it hit me. The feeling I couldn’t name before. The pull that was always there. I was in love with him.

But it was too late.

He had already moved on, found someone who saw what I hadn’t, someone who cherished him in ways I now longed to. All those moments we spent together came flooding back—times when he looked at me just a little too long, when he laughed a little too hard at my jokes, when his touch lingered. I saw it all in a different light, but it was a light that had dimmed for him.

I wanted to tell him. I thought maybe I could undo the distance that had grown between us. But what could I say? “I think I loved you all along, and I didn’t realize until you were gone”? It felt too selfish, too unfair. So I stayed quiet, and he stayed gone.

I often wonder if he knew. If, in some small way, he sensed it but got tired of waiting for me to catch up. I wish I had told him sooner. I wish I had let myself see what was right in front of me before it slipped through my fingers.

Now, I live with the bittersweet memory of what could have been. And as much as it hurts, I’ve learned something valuable from it all: love should never be ignored or taken for granted. If you feel it, even in the smallest of ways, don’t wait. Don’t assume there’s time. Because sometimes, when you finally realize the truth, it’s already too late.

And that’s a regret you carry with you, one that lingers long after the chance to make it right has passed.

[oldwinesoul]

[bellasartweird]

"All I ever did was hate your laugh And burned all the things we had When he took me in phases  And it drove my heart so crazy The things we killed midday,  Or how we never stayed,  Or how most of my poems are just listing things  In a pushy, psychotic form."

-Isabella Lamberty, Make-believe Funerals

[aloneinthedarkpath]

[ladyliisa]

Akand's loss.

I wrote some fanart after my Dragonborn monk lost Lae’zel. He had not a lot of charisma, no matter how many times I reloaded I couldn't change her turning on him. So I wrote this. -*-

Down below the halls of the Rosymon monastery, muffled by layers of earth and ancient stone walls, a scream of sorrow and pain echoed through the darkness. The cry, filled with anguish, spoke of a broken heart and a shattered chance for love, all consequences of his love's unyielding stubbornness and rigid worldview. The dimly lit chamber was strewn with the lifeless bodies of gith, their innards painting the floor a gruesome red. In the midst of the carnage, Akand, a copper-scaled dragonborn, cradled Lae’zel in his arms. She was a gith like the others, yet she was the one who had captured his heart. Her angry words, declaring their time together a mistake, had cut him deeply, filling him with both sorrow and rage.

Akand felt a hand on his shoulder, pressing down gently on the fabric of his robes. He heard Shadowheart take in a breath but refrained from speaking.

"Friend, we can’t stay. We need to leave or that queen of theirs will surely send more of her followers than we can handle down here," Gale said, a tint of worry in his voice.

"Every single gith in here will pay for her death. By my hands, I will send them to meet their god, their undead queen. Why didn’t she listen to me? Why did she side with them? Why did she raise and aim her blade at us?"

Akand hugged the unmoving body of Lae’zel. He had tried to bring her back to life unsuccessfully without the spell working. Anger filled his body for having lost her. Without a word, Akand stood up with Lae’zel in his arms, giving her to Karlach.

"I appreciate you coming here. Without you following us, getting out of here would be harder."

"We soldiers stick together. I had a feeling I was needed."

Akand looked at his party of friends, took a step up the stairs to lead them out of here alive, and every remaining gith dead. This place wasn’t theirs; it had been taken over, turned into a Crèche. It was up to him as a fellow monk to cleanse the halls of Lathander’s believers. Perhaps Rosymon monastery would be rebuilt without the stinking gith.

Gale stood in silence weaving a spell to shield him from a crossbow bolt. He looked at Akand, both in awe and fear, as his dragonborn ally ran around the hallways, pummeling heads down into the stone, shoving them closer to Shadowheart’s circle of spiritual guardians to burn in radiant light. Karlach swung her blade nearby where Gale stood, trying to keep out of the majority of the battle chaos.

"He will regret this course of action!"

"Steady on, soldier. Better his rage is aimed at them than on us."

Before Gale could reply to Karlach, another bolt flew towards him but missed. Gale retorted by sending over a globe of acid, splashing the gith as well as the floor around them.

"Above you, Karlach!"

"On it!"

As the sun began to set around the monastery, Akand gently lifted Lae’zel in his blood-covered hands and arms. His rage was subdued for the moment, tears threatening to pour out at any moment. His emotions were in turmoil, unbalanced.

"Wait here."

Out on an empty patch of ground overlooking the monastery with a grand view of the open sky, Akand placed his love down. In silence, he kissed her once warm lips before placing stones around her, carefully covering her body with earth, vines, and flowers. He sat down at her feet, silently praying as tears streamed down his face in sorrow.

"I never thought of us as a mistake. You will never be a mistake. I will always love you, Lae’zel."

Akand sat still, meditating to calm his mind, turning the turmoil in his body to a calm ocean breeze instead of the raging storm. Perhaps he could return after they found out about what was happening at the Moonrise Tower, rebuild the temple to its former glory along with the worshipers of Lathander.

"We need to head to camp."

Akand heard Shadowheart’s voice; it was soft and calm. He nodded in reply, taking a deep breath of the mountain air before standing up. Akand's view from the monastery was breathtaking. 

The monastery itself seemed to blend seamlessly with its surroundings, painting a picture of serene beauty and tranquility. He was not looking forward to descending into the Underdark after witnessing this magical scenery. The thought of leaving this haven of natural splendor for the dark, foreboding depths below filled him with a sense of dread and reluctance.

[grazianaa]

How to Live on Like I Promised You I Would

When we finally allowed ourselves to be together after all those years I told you something almost immediately; “We can save each other’s lives or we can bring each other down until one of us or both of us are gone.”

I had lost before, you promised I would not lose again. Your trust had been broken before, and I promised I would love you completely.

Your mother pulled me aside one day and made me promise to leave you if things got too bad, but how could I ever keep that promise after the one I had made to you? Things were more complex than she understood.

I gasped for air at 7:03AM. I gasped like I had been breathed back to life by some mystical force we’d never believed in, you and I. I gasped for air at 7:03AM, almost like both of us had died and you had chosen to breath your life back into me to give me another chance.

And at first I looked around the room, impressed that we somehow, in our blackout, had managed to put away all the evidence of our use. All I’d remembered from the night before was putting my nose in the bag and waking up with you in my lap. I knew something was not right because your head was rolled off the side of the couch and when I picked you up black blood ran out of your ears and from your nose.  I tried to drag you to the shower and put you under cold water like we’d done for each other so many times before.  I knew you were gone but the heart doesn’t believe what the head tries to feed it in those moments.  I tried for hours to bring you back to me, so hard that the EMT’s laughed when they arrived and stood back. 

“Seems like you’ve got this,” the guy grinned, and I could have killed him. 

When you left I was angry—I hated you for being the one who left me after you promised me you wouldn’t die. When you left I was afraid—how could I ever give myself again so completely to anyone? I had no faith.

When we buried you I had to be pulled away, I didn’t want to leave you and we weren’t done talking yet. I made promises I couldn’t keep and bargained for your life and begged for forgiveness. Mostly, I told you that I’d never love again, unless I knew that lover had been sent to me from the heavens by your hand, directly. 

And as time went by, I realized I had lied to you about that, too.  You must have seen me, and if not, you must have known that not to love for me was an impossible task because you must have known that all I had ever reached for in my whole entire life was love. I am a lover and I will do what lovers do, but trust me that promise never made it easy for me. Oh, I looked for you in everyone, in every step that they took, in the way they brushed the hair behind my ears, in the jokes they’d whisper to me. The love they made for me was never really mine because it was always tainted by remnants of feelings of the love you’d given me first.  I promised you that I would live on, and I promised you love would be different, but the truth is, there is no way I can love without seeing you in every other man I try to pursue. And the fact of the matter is I need love in order to live on. I need it like air, and you know that because you know me.  So how can I separate the love I will always have for you away from the love I seek in my pursuit of living on?

My grandmother grew up the youngest of 9 in Italy, so small that she doesn’t remember world war II. Her father left her mother which was unspeakable back then and she had to raise all those babies on her own. When tragedy struck, like my oldest great uncle dying in the war, the kids were sent out into the street to beg. They were called wailers because they would wail and cry and seek the attention of any passerby they could get to throw them a penny or a nickel. When my grandfather died, my grandma cried so hard and made such a scene that she tried to jump into the coffin with him. I was so embarrassed and angry at her for robbing the rest of the family of their right to grieve on a day that should have been focused on my grandpa. 

When you died, all at once I understood the overwhelming hopelessness of it all. The things we would never get to write, the art we would never finish, the garden that wouldn’t grow, the children that wouldn’t live. My future was taken in one moment from me and for the first time in my entire life, I felt sympathy for my grandmother, and all her attention seeking exaltation. I did not try to be buried with you but I must have walked up to your casket 20 times to kiss you once more.

In the weeks that followed your passing I found it very difficult to leave my room. Guilt took hold of me every time I thought of myself, being greedy enough to get a cup of coffee while you were being eaten by worms, or when I allowed myself to smile or laugh in conversation with new friends. 

For a long time I have swallowed the guilt of new love, holding it close in my stomach and bringing it everywhere with me and my new relationships. I know you do not want me alone, I have pushed the thought away all this time but I realize that you want someone to keep me safe in your absence, until we meet again. I need to let go of the guilt. I honor your soul every day, and it is not a betrayal of our love to need comfort, intimacy, and companionship while I am still on this earth.

I need to let go of the comparisons. I need to face the fact that there will not be another like you. I need to be grateful that I was one of the lucky ones, lucky enough to find great love in my lifetime where the two of us just understood each other completely without ever needing any explanation. That doesn’t mean that I am incapable of loving someone who is not you. I think it really comes down to openness, honesty, and constant communication. I cannot be afraid to bring you into my new relationship because you are a big part of what made me, “me.” However, at the same time, I mustn’t place you on a pedestal that no other man can live up to. There is so much to see in this world, and every person has some new gift to bring to it. I need to separate those parts from before from what is happening now. I think therapy will help, and support from the people who know me best. Mostly, I need things to go slow. I need time to transition in my mind to this new place, this new love that I am trying to create.  

[rickie-the-storyteller]

At the Gazebo - Chapter 1 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1434747836-at-the-gazebo-chapter-1?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=rickiethestoryteller In the quiet solitude of an old gazebo, Sheila finds solace in the memories of her lost love, Jeremy. Every day, she returns to the place where he once proposed, seeking refuge from the pain of her grief. But when a spirited young filmmaker, Lindsey, stakes her claim to this spot for a college project, Sheila's sanctuary is shattered. Forced to share her sacred space with a stranger, Sheila grapples with emotions she thought long buried. As tensions simmer between the two women, an unexpected crisis threatens to upend their lives and the fate of the gazebo itself. With their worlds colliding in unexpected ways, Sheila and Lindsey must set aside their differences and work together to save what matters most. "At the Gazebo" is a poignant tale of friendship, healing, and the power of human connection. Join Sheila and Lindsey on a journey of discovery as they navigate the complexities of grief, forgiveness, and the resilience of the human spirit. This is a tale of love, loss, healing and unlikely friendship.