#THE WAY THEY JUST

[ojbrush]

SLIGHT III18 SPOILERS!!!

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Xe make me so sad. Soso sad

[rk-x-yz]

[ And slowly but surely the year closes its doors on me, tbh i reread through this at some point and now my heart hurts, I love them so much can they please stop.

ah and happy mother's day to those that celebrate, I made my mom cry---in a good way, istg i didn't like, break her heart,, i may be ruthless to my children but not to my ma lol

enjoy :) 1.8k words

]

Silver moonlight licked up the walls of their bedroom, setting small silver trinkets—Azriyah’s Swords, his fans, the paintings left on the far side of the room, paintbrushes, ink canisters—aglitter in its wake. 

Such a beautiful hour this was, Viridian mused, idly playing with one of his sun-darkened curls. He was sprawled out on the soft white of their bedsheets, various layers of blankets and pillows strewn around him. Azriyah had a thing for blankets, and pillows, and various stuffed things, they made him more comfortable, and Viridian had no need to take such trivial comforts from him. 

A soft shuff to the far side of the room clued him in to the door of the room slipping open. That part of the room was decorated with midnight shadows, even moonlight's faint kiss hadn’t touched that area yet. 

Viridian untangled his fingers from his sleep tousled hair, standing up to stride over to the noise. Sure as day, standing by the door frame was an exhausted Azriyah.

His form was folded in on itself, normally agile fingers clumsy. They shook where he was standing against the door, his breaths out of sync and rapid. 

“Riyah,” Viridian breathed out, reaching out to gently lace his hands through clammy and cold hands. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, even Azriyah’s trembling pausing.

Without thinking, Azriyah lunged forward, tackling Viridian to the ground, a horrible snarl tearing itself from his throat. The moisture in the air curdled, gathering into small droplets around him, his teeth staying elongated into sharpened points. Viridian attempted to struggle, purely out of instinct, a sharp bolt of fear arching up his spine, Azriyah very quickly grabbed both of his wrists in one hand with a white-knuckled grip, the other coming to rest harshly over Viridian’s throat. 

He felt himself slipping, now all his mind was remembering was her hands, her face, her touch. Slipping back away from himself, he fought bucked his hips, attempting to throw the person atop him off. Shes heavier than he remembered, but those nails never changed. He was waiting for the searing pain of his soulmark to her to activate, but it never came. 

A sharp growl ceased his movement, his mind snapping back to where he was. Azriyah. Azriyah had just come home, she was long gone. Never would he see her again.

Vaguely, Viridian noticed his vision dancing with black dots, breathing progressively becoming harder to accomplish. If the grip was held on his grip as it was, he would surely fall unconscious. Azriyah, however, was unfocused, his nails sharpening to pull small beads of blood from Viridian’s arms where they connected. 

With his last thoughts, Viridian whispered to the night air. Uncertain if he was simply hearing more with how the air around him was vibrating, or if he was actually screaming, he whispered the phrase one more time, a desperate hope for Azriyah to fall back to his senses. 

The grip all together disappeared. Rubbing his sore throat gently, Viridian sat up trying to blink away the dizziness and memories. It had been too long since he trained at all to try and fend off the war general. Blearily he glanced around the room. Azriyah had backed into a corner, the moonlight barely caressing his soft curls.

His heart panged.

The other was curled into a tight ball, sharpened nails coming to dig at his scalp and hair. Viridian, ever fearless around Azriyah, walked back over. This time, however, he sat down in front of him, his movements telegraphed.

“Hey my starlight,” he whispered again, “can I touch you?”

“Nnn.” the start to a human syllable slipped between Azriyah’s sealed lips, before it fell over into a growl. 

Viridian watched his prone form, hands fisting his robes in frustration. When he spoke, his voice remained soft, “Descry, can I see Riyah?”

“You won’t hurt,” the voice that came out was several leagues deeper than Azriyah’s. It was more abyssal, growls curling around the low notes, “him?” 

“I would never hurt either of you.” Viridian confirmed, trying to sound placating. Truthfully, he had not been around Descry enough to know how he would act, especially when he was like this. The second soul was older than either Azriyah or Viridian, frankly he had suspicions that this soul had been around since the beginning of time. Being so old, it made him protective of the only vessel that could support his power, even if he never was truly able to remember who Viridian was in relation.

Slowly, the moisture around them collapsed to the ground, Azriyah’s nails blunting again—and certainly if Viridian were to look his teeth would be back to their normal sharpness. Descry had left, leaving Azriyah in Viridian’s care. Truly, a blessing. He would be sure to thank the stars for the ancient spirit being able to see reason. 

“Riyah,” Viridian started softly, scooting a tad closer. The only thing separating them now was the moonlight, cutting a harsh line between them. “My starlight, can I touch you?”

In lieu of a response, the man launched himself into Viridian’s arms, sobbing into his chest. Broken apologies slipped out of his mouth, hands fisting tight into the back of Viridian’s robes, tears began to soak the front of his clothing.

“Shhhh,” he gently began running his fingers through Azriyahs matted hair, carefully detangling the worst part of it. “Do you want a bath?”

Viridian had wanted to ask something entirely different, however with the current state of his husband, he seriously doubted that Azriyah could communicate beyond yes and no. Slowly, a careful nod came afterward, Azriyah all but falling dead weight into Viridian’s lap.

Without pause, Viridian gathered him into his arms, gently carrying him over to the bed he was lounging upon less than an hour ago. 

“Riyah,” Viridian allowed his voice to fall into a deep rumble in his chest, knowing that it may comfort the other, “I’m going to—”

A strangled sob broke from the other, curling his hands tight into the robes he was cuddled against. Fear laced through his expression.

“Please don’t leave me.” his voice was tear strained, a gentle stream tumbling in the deepest of winter—fragile and sweet. 

“Not leaving you,” Viridian set the other onto the bed, kneeling between his legs so Azriyah could fully see him, “I want to help you out of your robes.”

A small twitch of Azriyah’s lips, a barely there smile, filled Viridian’s heart with warmth. The other nodded, twitching his fingers up to his robes to do it himself.

“I’ve got you starlight,” Viridian gently pulled the hands back, “allow me?” 

His hands were trembling, but far more faintly than they were at the beginning of this night. Azriyah nodded his ascent, his voice falling just short of escaping.

Viridian locked eyes with him, carefully reaching for the first sash, undoing it. Nothing in his gaze was harsh or cold as piece by piece, Azriyah’s clothing was taken off and folded carefully on the floor next to him. 

“Riyah,” he started carefully, not sure if the other would be completely okay with this next part, “I have to go get the water.” 

Immediately, the slight focus that Azriyah had been gaining into his gaze sharpened, snapping up to Viridian. Fear lurked in his grey irises, pupils constricted despite the low light of the room. Overwhelmingly, however, his eyes were drowning in regret. 

“‘Dian,” stray tears leaked down Azriyah’s face, adding to the already stained tracks, “I reminded you of her, didn’t I?” 

His voice was resigned, almost as if now looking back at things, he saw only a horrible action against his love. As if all that Azriyah had ever done for him suddenly was washed away because he had a hard day. 

Viridian sighed, tilting his head to rest on Azriyah’s knee in lieu of an answer. It was more than enough for Azriyah, who almost hesitantly picked up Viridian’s head, drawing him upwards to be at eye level with the older. 

“Dian, I don’t want to remind you in any way of her,” he started, their faces hovering mere inches from each other, warm breath fanning out across Viridian’s skin. “Please, I will do anything to reverse what I did.” 

Azriyah’s voice started to border onto fearful tears, wobbling with worry. Viridian, in response, did the only thing that he thought of: to close the distance. 

The kiss was chaste, barely the brush of their lips, however, it carried weight behind it. A silent apology and its acceptance were traded. Azriyah, more careful than he normally would be, looped his hands around the trim waist of the other, flipping their positions. 

Viridian, for his part, gently smiled, reminded so carefully of the early evening, where he was awaiting the other. The moon had fallen much further, now the doorway to the room glimmering in its cold light. 

“Allow me?” Azriyah was mimicking Viridian’s question from earlier he noted. 

“If you would care enough for this vessel, then may my hands never be needed for anyone but yourself,” Viridian responded, his fingertips dancing along Azriyah’s sides. 

“My honor, and my duty to you,” Azriyah said, voice falling back into sing song as they fell back on common phrases traded between them, “your hands will be needed for none other than myself.” 

Azriyah carefully slipped the other’s robe off, his fingers slow and careful. A lazy river mapping out a forest it has known for eons. Viridian, for his part, allowed his eyes to slip shut. This was the last piece of their puzzle, to fully surrender to one another.

To accept the other without judgment, to accept without requirement. To allow themselves to be laid bare before each other, all their sins and secrets whispered against each other’s skin, was the one thing that slowly allowed them to heal.

“I once said I wished I could tell you everything,” Azriyah said, leaning back up to hover over Viridian’s face, “now, my only wish is that this moment may last for eternity.” 

He hummed, tilting his head up to meet Azriyah half way. It changed nothing if he spoke, or if he wrote his love in a thousand languages on the other’s skin, they each knew each other by the way their gazes clicked. By the sound of their breaths. By the maps that they have drawn of each other on long and slow nights of their eternity. Even in death, they would find each other, a sun cannot be without its moon as much as the moon cannot be without its sun. 

Today their touch spelled apologies, for all that had transpired, tomorrow their touch may read nothing more than a step forward. And the next day after that, their touch may spell fear. 

For now, at least, they could spell apologies between each other, laying with their legs tangled and hands interlaced and their foreheads touching. For now, at least, with only the moonlight as their blanket, they could bask in the warmth of their devotion to each other.

[aceofstars0]

@larz-barz

[aromantic-goldfishdeactivated202]

I find it so funny, in light of TikTok’s imminent American demise, that even now they aren’t considering moving to tumblr. The last two social media refugee crises (Twitter -> X and whatever happened with Reddit) prompted a wave of wide-eyed new baffled tumblr users to flood this app and yet last I heard all of the tiktokers are flooding en-masse a Chinese social media app. That is entirely in Mandarin. Instead of moving to tumblr.

[arynneva]

wait do people read first person stories and think they're the ones in the story???

Saw people talking about not liking first person, which is fair, but their reasoning was like "I would not do that" and I don't understand that mindset.

First person stories are still about a character. A character making their own decisions. First person isn't about you???? At least I thought it wasn't. What am I missing? I've always seen first person as just a more in-depth look into a character's mind and stricter POV. Not as a reader stand-in.

[robyn-i-guess]

liking someone platonically is so embarrassing like. yeah i admire you. yeah i think about you all the time. yeah i look forward to every time i see you even if it's only for a minute. yeah it's all platonic and yeah i couldn't explain this because it'd sound romantic. fucking hell

[daftpatience]

slow down for your disabled friends. thats like a bare minimum kindness that we shouldnt have to ask for. i love that youre so quirky and walking fast is a cool personality trait to you and all that but i bet you can count your physically disabled friends on less than one hand

[beholdthemem]

My fellow bitches under 5'5. Whatever the money, do not take a job working at a middle school. A fellow adult tried to put me in detention last month and would NOT give up until I showed her my badge proving Yes, The School Hired Me To Work Here. It's not meant for people our height.

[sparklebyte]

oh so you’re telling me the guy had a 3 page handwritten explanation of his motives and mindset and a gun and silencer that matches the description despite it being a week since the guy was shot? hmmmm interesting

[eaglerayys]

Suzanne Collin’s just said fuck you to everyone who’s ever critiqued the Hunger Games as being a “teen girl saves the day” story. She said oh, Mockingjay didn’t make it clear enough? Here’s a book about how people have been rebelling for decades only to have their efforts suppressed and propagandized. Rebellion takes time and it takes failure and Katniss may have been the spark that ignited the wildfire but she did so standing atop the doused flames of everyone who came before her.

[danlous]

Ignoring the real possibility he intentionally let himself be caught from the little we know so far Luigi Mangione's case is a fascinating combination of astonishing brilliance and confusing stupidity. This young man plans and executes his assassination and escape with such a meticulous care and calmness that it's suspected that he's a professional hitman. He comes up with Riddler-sque moves like writing his manifesto poetically on the bullets and leaving his backpack behind full of Monopoly money. He carefully wears a mask to avoid being identified but removes it because a woman who was checking him into the hostel was flirting with him and wanted to see his smile. He still manages to escape the most surveilled city in the country in the midst of ongoing national manhunt only to get caught in the middle of bumfuck nowhere Pennsylvania while eating at the McDonalds. Because for some reason he had the same clothes and mask as in New York and was carrying the same gun and suppressor. And when the cops detained him he showed them the same fake id he used in New York. And oh yeah he's a frat bro gym rat who has a masters degree in computer science from Penn but reads stupid self-help books about being on the grind and is 'anti-woke' while being bisexual suffering from anxiety and wanting to end oppressive capitalism. Not even god himself could invent a person like this

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[overcaffeinated-aro]

ok not to be that guy but like. labor rights and working class rights can coexist with 24h services and late amenities. its certainly hard to do so without worker exploitation in this political and social environment, it’s not a conflict likely to resolve overnight. but 24h services are important and especially valuable to those of us that are disabled or are on a different circadian rhythm. in fact more professional, health, and government services should be available or at least possible to work on asynchronously (if applicable) during late or odd hours, while workers also get sufficient pay for their labor and proper consistent scheduling. this would be much easier on the workers with night schedules if the entire professional world didn’t grind to a halt at 5pmEST

[vulpinesaint]

quiz enjoyers! i am now inviting you to come create something in my workshop❕

[ciderjacks]

Sometimes I’m reminded that in universe Chilchuck is an actually influential figure who like. Made huge advancements for his people and community. Like as in gave them rights and protections. And who is widely known by half-foots because of that. Like. He’s not just some guy.

Idk For some reason that just makes his role in canon really funny to me. Like this older, extremely important and accomplished figure is just willingly putting himself thru it for the sake of this random autistic 26 year old.