#That was NOT the same character who cried his eyes out over a simple “I missed you”

[yujeong]

To be honest, seeing the audience's live reaction for the last BostonNick scene tells me everything I need to know about why their story ended up like it did.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙! ♡︎

characters: sub!yandere!AFAB!characters x dom!gn!reader

warnings: character uses he/him pronouns but has female genitalia/tcock (words such as pussy, vagina, cunt will be used), character is transmale, reader has you/your pronouns, cock/strap, yandere character, established relationship, protected sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that folks), breeding, creampie, belly bulge, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death and light torture

notes: you can think of any character you want with this fic, i just had a wild thought during a car ride at my vacation. divider from @/cafekitsune

yandere! husband who has been in love with you since they first met you. what started out as a simple fascination developed into an unhealthy obsession until he finally got the courage to ask you out on an official date

yandere! husband who gets surprised when you accept his ask for a date, sheepishly smiling as you tell him that you found him pretty and had been building up the courage to do the same. who nearly fall into his knees right then and there with sheer nervousness yet also giddiness at your confession, finding the wobbly smile on your face endearing

yandere! husband who gradually built a stable relationship with you over time. there were moments where he thought of just drugging you up and stealing you away to keep you all to himself but he chastised himself for such thoughts when you have been nothing but loyal and honest. he thought of killing those annoying bitches and assholes who tried to hit on you or blatantly flirted with you in front of him, imagining cutting out their tongue and burning their eyes with scolding hot iron only to snap back to the present when your hand wound around his waist, introducing him as your lover excitedly

yandere! husband who got scared when you accidentally walked in while he was changing after a shower, terrified that you will leave him after having seen his top scars and cunt. who could hear his heartbeat in his own ears, rapidly beating like a frightened bird thrown into a cage while he waited your reaction. who try to apologize only to be cut off with your comforting words and accepting hug

yandere! husband who proposed to you first, getting on both of his knees as he presented you the ring in the box. who lets out a sweet laugh when you kneel down in return, showing your own ring that you bought for him

yandere! husband who definitely cried on your wedding, wiping away his tears silently as he turns his back to you, not wanting you to see him in such a weak and vulnerable state. turning back to you with the wet handkerchief still in his hand, who can feel the tears coming back once again as he sees your knowing look and comforting smile

yandere! husband who is happy with your married life. the new adventures of moving into a new house, decorating it to your liking and modifying your rooms being an exciting life for him. he loved the moments where you two put paint of each other’s faces instead of painting the walls, choosing the colors on complete random with an eeny, meeny, mini, mo game, dancing with you bare feet in the kitchen as you both wait for the water to boil for the cup ramen at midnight. he would want to hold your hand in his own, the wedding rings clicking against each other softly as he giggles

yandere! husband who wants to try for a baby after years into the marriage. it was a surprise to him how he managed to wait patiently for so long after your marriage. while he wanted desperately to get himself knocked up at the night of consummation of your marriage, he understood your wishes to wait until the perfect time. finally, he thinks it is the perfect timing, after years of protected sex and daydreams of feeling his cunt get filled, tells you of his plan

yandere! husband who purposefully poked a tiny hole into every condom there is at your home, who huffs a fake annoyed noise whenever the material tears as you try to put it around your strap. he may have a pout on his face and talk about trying it raw on the outside but on the inside he is fucking giddy. he wants to feel your cock constantly pushing into his wet pussy walls so bad and he couldn’t help but curse silently under his breath when you take out a lone condom that was thankfully reserved in the pockets of one of your pants

yandere! husband who suggests on riding you instead of taking it as usual. a sudden change in your usual sex life but you didn’t mind trying new things out. laying on your back, you watch and let out occasional groans and low moans as you see how his sweet pussy swallows you whole, the fat of his ass higgling every time he bounces himself on your strap, asking you to slap and squeeze it. which you do gladly, lightly slapping as the jiggling flesh, making your husband giggle

yandere! husband who gets annoyed as the feeling of the condom around your cock, skillfully bouncing himself until he ‘accidentally’ slips your strap out. he swears it was the amount of lube you used, grabbing your cock with his hand and tapping his dripping pussy with the tip. your husband who makes a show, wiggling his hips as he slides the tip inside and sinking down until he feels full again. not yet, he thinks to himself, knowing that you would get suspicious if he tries his plan too early on

yandere! husband who keeps ‘accidentally’ slipping your strap out of his gushing cunt, whining until his patience finally ends. the next time it slips out, his fingers pinch at the tip of the wet condom, pulling on the material with a pout and a mumbled “it’s in the way..” until it comes off with a lewd pop!

yandere! husband who disregards your frantic words of protection and taking a second for you to put on another one, turning around to face you now as he sinks down onto your strap with one move. the feeling of your own cock, without any annoying latex in the way making him cream around your fat cockhead instantly, a drawn out satisfied whine falling from his lips

yandere! husband who clenches around your strap on purpose every time he moves. his hands guiding yours to touch his chest, the top scars that healed beautifully and to squeeze and fondle his nipples “u-until i sta—anngh ah haagh mmgh♡︎! start to lactate, just like your sweet baby momma uungh♥︎!!” while his pretty pussy squeezes your strap like a vice, unwilling to let go or not even daring to think so. he wanted to feel your cum, hot seeds painting his walls white and making his legs shake

yandere! husband who silences your weak protests for a protection with a messy kiss. noses knocking together, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and wanting to ‘connect’ with you on a deeper level. he wanted everything you have to offer and seeing the small trail of saliva left behind as you pulled back for a gasping breath made him giggle deliriously

yandere! husband who increases his pace when he hears you struggling to talk, words of cumming together coming out in a jumbled mess as he sits himself fully in your lap. pushing your pelvises together until no gap was between them, throwing his head back with a satisfied mewl when he finally feels it. that warmth he’s been craving so long, filling up his womb, mixing with his love juice as the excessive mixed cum drops down your strap

yandere! husband who gets pushed into his back, legs pushed up and over until his knees were beside his head. put into a mating press with your annoyed face staring down at him just made him clench around you, a drunk giggle of your name falling from his lips. he gladly spreads his weeping pussy open further, with you still inside him, letting you see the mess you two made

yandere! husband who drops his act entirely, wiggling his hips with heart shaped pupils as he asks you to breed him. cum inside him as many times as you want, he wants a baby with you, it’s about time you two take your relationship to the next level. “i’ll be a good baby momma… and you’re already a wonderful lover who would become a wonderful parent. come on [name], breed me full of your seeds♥︎”

yandere! husband who gets fucked thoroughly to his wish. crying out all sorts of filthy words every time your cock sinks back into his cunt. thin drools on his chin, old tear stains constantly being replaced by new ones as his pussy clenches around you for the nth time, forcing you to cum earlier than you usually does. overwhelming amount of your mixed cum wetting the bedsheets, your thighs and his own as well as his butt. not like he cared, he wanted to make sure he gets knocked up, that you get him knocked up as he creams around you again, creating an even thicker halo of white around your strap

yandere! husband who shows his filthier side, holding your head against his chest and asking you to suck on his nipples, who place your hand over his tcock, telling you to “s-stroke! my cock too ahh haagh♡︎ mgh n-not fair that mmuungh uunghk my cock is being left alone♡︎!”

yandere! husband who lets out one last hoarse wail, the wetness of his cunt making you groan as your strap cums inside him for the nth time that night before collapsing on top of him. he had passed out, tired from the continuous pounding he received as he lay there peacefully with flushed red cheeks, tearstains and drools on his chin and cheeks while pretty bruises and lovebites cover his skin. the most notable bruises being the ones on his hips and thighs, making you grimace at the painful wound you saw. but hey, the small bulge in his belly from your excessive cum inside his womb made you happy. it definitely made him happy too

yandere! husband who occasionally regains consciousness during your aftercare for him. who groans and refuses to let you pull out for bath, straddling your lap inside the warm water filled bathtub. he couldn’t help but slur out a “noo… don’t pull out” as you push his pelvic away from yours, feeling the cum inside his pussy to drip down his legs

yandere! husband who now eagerly wait for the signs of pregnancy with a full boxes of pregnancy test at his side of the nightstand, who still poke secret holes into your condoms because when did he said he wanted only one baby with you?

⇨ characters i think fits: jing yuan, dan feng, yingxing, sunday, aventurine, argenti, dan heng il, gepard, sampo, luocha, caelus, luka, jiaoqui, itto, baizhu, ayato, thoma, childe, pantalone, dottore, kaeya, kaveh, lyney, neuvillette, sethos, heizou, venti, rubedo, aalto, xiangli yao, scar, yoriichi, haganezuka, douma, kaigaku, jyugo, uno, kiji, honey, trois, kenshirou yozakura, musashi, houzuki sanzou, ruka gojou, seitarou, tsukumo, mitsuru, sinbad, sharkkan, spartos, koumei, titus, muu alexius, sphintus, rafayel, mammon, asmodeus, mephistopheles, diavolo, belphegor, simeon, solomon, satan + anyone you like

[lieslab]

And at last I see the light

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: Half-delirious and sick, you randomly tell Minho about your dream proposal and he takes notes.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: I'm sappy and emotional. This was definitely inspired by Tangled. What can I say? I'm just a girl who cries easily and thinks about love a lot. Can a girl not ponder? Anyway, if you get choked up at proposals, grab a tissue or two.

_ _ _

The simple conversation was so long ago that you forgot about it. It was a brief moment in passing, just another random conversation, but Minho didn’t forget it. In fact, he’d been planning since then. 

“If I were to propose to you, where would you want it and how would you want it done?” 

The two of you were on opposite ends of the couch. Your body was heavy with the weight of a random stomach bug. Through the stomach aches and nausea, you were fading in and out of consciousness. Minho wanted to take you to your shared bed, but you refused. Too worried about making him sick, you opted to stay on the couch. 

Every time he came close to you, you stubbornly held your breath and threatened to make yourself pass out. It was dramatic, but it wasn’t unusual for you, you always were. Too afraid of giving him the same bug, you did your best to keep your distance. 

You didn’t get the exact wish you were hoping and praying for. At some point, you fell asleep and he covered you in a thick fleece blue blanket. A kiss was planted to the top of your sleeping temple before he strolled back over to the couch. He curled up on the other side and kept an eye on you. 

The television was already on, but he twitched the show to something silly with cartoon characters. You needed your rest and he didn’t want you to wake up and stress out your brain by trying to follow along with a half-over plot. He picked out the most childish show and let it play. 

When you woke up, you awoke to dancing shadows and the gentle vibrations of the leather couch. Across the way, Minho couldn’t help, but laugh at something that a character said. He grinned and kept his eyes on the flickering screen. 

You caught his attention when you sleepily uttered his name. He quickly lowered the volume, got up, and rushed to get you water. You still refused to let him be too close, so all he could do was keep his distance and observe your stubborn self. 

The conversations didn’t have a steady theme. He talked about one thing and then another. You jumped from topic-to-topic with him. You were about ready to fall asleep again when he asked you that question. 

“Tangled,” you mumbled. 

His eyebrows pinched together and he studied your face. Your sleepy eyes were half-lidded and a yawn tugged your mouth into a small o-shape. A smile grew on half of his face and he asked for clarification. 

“The scene where Rapunzel and Flynn are in the gondola with the flying lanterns.” 

“What about it?” 

“Maybe not the gondola, but with the flying lanterns.” You nuzzled your head back against the cool leather. “I’ve always thought they were beautiful. It’d be the perfect memory.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so, but you can’t propose to me when I’m sick. I don’t feel good and I think I’d throw up on your shoes. I think the lights would somehow make me nauseous.” 

“You poor, poor thing,” he teased you. 

“Mmhm. Poor me.” Your eyes slipped shut and you let out a sigh. He watched you slowly drift back to sleep with the cartoons long forgotten about. His brain went into overdrive that night. 

Loving Minho was the easiest choice you ever made. From his quick wit to his loudness, it was the best choice. Not a single soul could compare and it was something you tried not to take for granted. 

Whether it was arguing about who deserved the last pudding, or sitting in silence while Minho laid on your lap, your love was so simple. Life went on and the conversation erased from your brain, but it didn’t stop you from having moments when you watched him with a soft fondness. 

Your body relaxed and inside your chest, your heart stuttered as your brain tried to capture those little moments. Sometimes, it was as simple as him leaning over the stove and stirring whatever dish he was trying to make. Other times, it was when he was bare faced and stretched out on the couch with one of his cats upon his lap. 

His messy hair poked out in every direction from running his hand through it. After dance practice, his muscles ached and he just wanted to sit down and take a bit of time to relax. You usually joined him and crept over, snuggling beneath his arm to keep him warm. He’d whine and complain of your sudden presence, but he never pulled away. 

He liked when you wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed a soft kiss against the side of his neck. Just as you grew fond of him, he grew smitten with you. He joked that his love for you was like a pesky bunion that just wouldn’t go away. 

Meanwhile, you compared it to wild mushrooms. You could try to stop loving him, but the love would keep sprouting up. Just when you thought there was nothing more to love, you’d turn your back for a brief moment and glance back to find another thing to love; another mushroom sprouted through damp soil. 

Everything was warm and bright. In your eyes, everything was right and as the days turned into weeks, when those weeks burrowed into months, and began to roll into years, Minho knew he had you forever. He was going to take advantage of your sleepy-sick state and put his plans into action one day, but it never seemed like the right time. The two of you were always busy and time kept going, your love was an endless sea, but he wanted to make it truly official. 

That wish came true when spring unveiled itself. With the chirping birds and baby bunnies, there was finally going to be a lantern festival. Rejuvenation, rebirth, and earth’s restoration; the perfect time to take the next step in your relationship. 

“Wear something nice.”

“I always wear something nice.” 

“Your constant state of sweatpants and hoodies says otherwise.” 

“Fuck off!” 

He just wanted you to look back at the video and be content with what you were wearing. The lantern festival was a rarity and you already had your best outfit picked out. You went through the entire routine of making yourself look good and then put it on. 

It was a miracle that you didn’t notice the bouncing of his non-driving leg. He shifted in the seat a few times, but your nose was pressed against the passenger’s seat glass. You were going on and on about how excited you were for the festival, you always wanted to attend one. 

You were unaware that the fate of your relationship sat in a small square box in Minho’s pocket. The weight of it in his pocket wasn’t much, but tonight, it felt like the ring he picked out was a thousand pounds. He kept glancing over at you and imagining what your face would look like. If it was ugly, he would be sure to tease you about it. 

The two of you arrived twenty minutes before the lanterns were set to be released. Finding a parking space was difficult, but by some miracle, he managed to find an empty space to squeeze his car into. He grabbed your hand and headed to the area to grab a lantern. 

“Are you getting one too?” You asked, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

“No, I just want to watch you light and release yours. You’ve been wanting this, right? It’s your night to shine.” 

“Well, yeah, but I thought you were going to do it with me.” You frowned and couldn’t hide the disappointment from your voice. 

“Just don’t worry about it, have your fun.” 

After grabbing the paper lantern with a tea light white candle tucked inside, Minho handed it to you. “Remember that you only get one wish, so use it well.” You playfully slapped his shoulder and took the lantern. 

“Maybe I should wish for you to stop being a pain in my ass.” 

“In your dreams.” 

With one hand on the lantern and one hand in Minho’s, you began to lead him through the thicket of people. It seemed like everyone wanted to light and release a lantern too. Maybe it was the same reason as you, people wanted to make a wish. For others, it was a way to remember specific people and other loved ones. 

No matter what the reason was, it made your heart swell with happiness. How human was it to long for peace? People had done this since the beginning of time and tonight wasn’t anything new. 

Little did you know, Minho’s friend was tracking his location. The location sharing app had the exact path they were taking. A few people away, he silently followed with quiet footsteps. In his hand, the phone that’d be used to catch the proposal. 

You wiggled through laughter and tears full of a yearning for loved ones. Tonight, no matter who was here, there was a sense of unity. You could feel the tethered string of your heart plucking at all the sights and sounds. 

When you finally found a spot on a slight grassy hill, the two of you were only near a handful of people. Minho glanced over his shoulder and found his friend’s face in the reflection of a phone light. His friend quickly clicked off his phone, so he could stay hidden in the dark blanket of night.

“How do you feel?” Minho asked. 

“I’m so excited!” You grinned. “I’ve always wanted to do something like this. Ever since I watched Tangled for the first time, the floating lantern scene on the water has always been my favorite scene.” 

“I’m sorry that we’re not on water.” 

“Are you kidding me?” You scoffed. “Look at where we are! This is going to be so beautiful. It’s like we’re holding the stars tonight. For once, they won’t be in the sky, we’ll be capturing them and sending them back home.” 

He pressed his lips together, trying not to get sappy over how excited you were. You were like a little kid as you rambled. Even in the dark, a nearby street light lit up the excitement in your eyes. He’d seen you excited before, but this was something entirely different. 

His hand went into his pant’s pocket to make sure the ring was still there. His hand found the square leather box and his shoulders relaxed. He knew exactly how he’d do this, he was just hoping you’d say yes. 

After a few minutes of talking, your arm shot out and you pointed across the way. “Look! It’s starting! We can light our lantern!”

Our lantern. 

Minho said he wasn’t getting a floating lantern and instead of ignoring his words, you just assumed that the two of you could share the lantern instead. His heart ached with a love for you that he couldn’t understand sometimes. It was little things like that, it made him think he could love you until his heart gave out. 

He reached into his other pocket, held out a lighter, and handed it to you. You held up the lantern and he hesitated. It was only after you nodded that he flicked the flame to life. He placed it back in his pocket and behind him, his friend came closer to record the moment. 

“Come on, grab the lantern and make a wish.” 

“But it’s your lantern.” 

“Lee Minho, so help me, if you don’t grab on and make a wish with me...” 

Across the way, flickering yellows and oranges began to fly higher in the sky. He grabbed the other side of the lantern and together, the two of you raised it higher and higher. After your arms couldn’t stretch anymore, your fingers let go. 

You smiled as you watched it go further and further away. Above the people’s heads, above the buildings, and further and further into the night sky. Your eyes didn’t leave, even when it blended into a crowd of other lights. 

Awe and endearment flooded the area. Shouts of joy and flickers of laughter. No matter what people wished tonight, for once, it felt like it’d be okay. Whatever hurt and whatever harm had touched people’s lives, tonight was the start of something different. 

Every light had a story and each one was a flicker of hope. Into the air, into the sky, and over buildings. Tonight, you weren’t sure where your lantern would land, it’d be up to the universe to decide. 

“So what’d you wish for?” 

You began to spin around at the sound of Minho’s voice. “I wished for-” You gasped and a hand slammed over your mouth. A few feet away, Minho was down on one knee with a box holding a ring. 

“Are you joking?” Your voice wobbled as you spoke. An emotional lump was forming in your throat. Tears blurred your eyes. 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” 

“Yes. Yes. Yes!” You vigorously nodded as tears streamed down your cheeks. “A thousand times yes!” 

Before he could get up, you collapsed down beside him. He didn’t get a chance to speak because you threw your arms around his shoulders. You pressed your head into the side of his neck as a choked out sob fell from your lips. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Why are you crying?” 

“Because,” you weakly squeaked as you pulled away from his body. “This was my wish. I wanted our relationship to last forever.” 

“I guess we both got our wishes tonight. My wish was that you’d say yes.” He chuckled and wiped your tears away with his thumbs. “Can we get up now? I’d like to make it official and put a ring on it.” 

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled as you pulled your arms away. You allowed him to help pull you up. Your hand stuck out and he began to stick a ring on your finger. 

“That might be true, but I’m your idiot.” He gently grabbed your ring finger and slid on the ring. “Now I’m your idiot forever. Come on, stop crying.” He wiped away more of your tears. 

“I can’t help it, I’ve always dreamed of this. How’d you know this is what I wanted? The floating lights and everything?” Your eyes searched his, but all he offered with a soft hum and a shrug. 

“Love is a mystery like that sometimes.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come on,” he slowly turned you around. “Let's watch the lanterns, shall we?” An arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

With a final sniffle, you let your head lean against his shoulder. Everything was just as perfect as you’d imagine it to be. Nothing anyone could do would ever be able to top this moment.

Minho glanced over his shoulder and his friend gave him a thumbs up. He stopped the recording and disappeared back into the crowd of people. Tomorrow, Minho would make you watch the video and he’d tease you for your dramatic reaction. 

Tonight, you were just two people whose wishes came true beneath floating lanterns and that was enough for him. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman

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Ko-fi

[corseque]

On the scale of 1 (Rise of Skywalker) to 10 (Shadowbringer/Endwalker), where would you place Veilguard?

critical post

I’ve burst into enraged tears like 5 times since I finished it, which is not nearly even close to as many times as Rise of Skywalker, but still 5 times too many. Just the shallowness of the writing, the obviousness, the incredible frustration at the simplicity, the ignoring so much of my favorite character in order to make a stupidly simple plot work, the horrendous time I had trying to ignore Rook’s annoying stupid fuckass pov while just trying to self-insert myself into the end of my favorite fictional character of all time’s story after waiting 10 years. I screamed in frustration that I had to hear the painfully obvious commentary these brand newcomer characters who I did not give a shit about, explaining to me like a toddler how I should feel about revelations I have been writing about for 10 years, especially when what they were saying was stupid as fuck. I cried at the thought of so many cutscenes and so much effort went into stories I found very forgettable and went nowhere, while they were able to only scrounge up like 10 total animated shots reuniting Solas and Lavellan. I mourn that I could not make any decisions in a BioWare game. I mourn Solas’ story so much, and probably will for years. I will never get over the way they talked down to him and never listened to him for even a second, lest they actually have to write a branching path into their game. I hate that the theme was regret but Rook regrets nothing ever so (shrugs) regret doesn’t affect them or mean anything to them. I mourn the loss of the voice and point of view of his people, the ones he was fighting for, the ones who are alive. I mourn that it turns out that he’s just a stupid feral dog who is 100% wrong about everything always and he always has been from the beginning of time. I cried that the game said the answer was that Solas should NOT try to help his people and they never even discussed it as a philosophical question or the ethics of it or anything, or playing as a character so dense they never once even wondered if accidentally freeing the gods killed more people overall than the veil coming down would have. (We avoided this question like the plague, lest we feel less like purely Good Heroes who could talk down to the gods with righteous fury). I mourn that I’m never going to know what would have happened without the Veil. I feel so stupid for thinking that elves or spirits as factions would appear in any capacity with lines and perspectives in this game. I’m so angry at how safe and smoothed over everything in the setting is, and how it felt like the main characters never struggled with anything and have nothing to say. I can’t believe Dragon Age is so shallow and unsatisfying and head-empty. I mourn that the story of Dragon Age is Over to me and I will never play another game.

I’ve also cried a few times at the completely separated and individual imagery and music in the last scene. I’ve cried that my favorite character didn’t die in any world after 10 years of being at death’s door. I’ve cried at the thought of him being a little worm spirit, and that I was right about him the whole time. I cried when activating Felassan’s crystal in the final fight and seeing all the buffs. I cried when I turned the page and realized the default inquisitor was exactly the same as my personal Lavellan, down to hair style, eye color, hair color, vallaslin removed. I cried when I realized Solas thought he should have died as a spirit rather than be born. I cried that the main story Dragon Age has been telling the whole time has been about the reconciliation and freeing of my favorite fictional character. I cried that Solas and Lavellan got married in the end, when I genuinely wasn’t expecting either of them to even be alive. They’re both still alive and in love in every single world. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I have no idea where to put it. It’s a few high highs but some intolerably low fucking lows. It could have been so much worse but the bar is on the fucking floor. I go back and forth between moderate enjoyment to just being so angry. It could have been so much more and I do not know who to bite for it.

I have no idea.

[meo-eiru]

Breaking my lurker status (forgive my english I don't speak the devils tongue/j)

1.-I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO SO SO MUCH PLSSS-- you write so good and you draw even better it's so fun to see a notification pop up bc it also means I can see the silly people that also like your characters just as much as I do! I find it so cute to see all the different ways people live this characters I love it💥💥

2.- I beg of thee, to spare a crumb if One Eyed monster once again (when you have time bc remember to rest, eat and drink aguita💥), I've been OBSESSED with that one since I saw your first post about him, I just find him so endearing!

Like imagine scene! He is just so head over heels over by us but be doesn't have the courage to come talk to us, but oh! What's this? We are going out of our way to talk to him? HE MUST BE DREAMING! And we are just gushing over how cute he looks with his hair covering his face bc it makes him look so tiny and sweet that we can't help but reach to touch his face and in his daze we move just a little bit of his hair and he only notices that we have seen his full face when he can see more clearer (bc having so much hair in front of your only eye must never tough) and he just PANICS-- like just completely and utterly scared that he takes off running already crying and thinking that we will never wanna see him again and that we are disgusted by him, he only stops in an alley far away to catch his breath.

But in his break down he fails to notice how we ran after him, yelling for him to stop, following him to the alley and seeing in a front row seat how he is just completely broken saying between sobs how we'll hate him now.

But we never had hated him to begin with, we found him cute at the start so we got close to him, and when we saw that big doe-eye it was like staring at the most beautiful star in the sky, we would never hate him after all.

He doesn't hear our steps towards him, he only reacts when he feels our hand lightly touch the top of his hair, his head snapping up to see who it was, his heart almost jumping out of his chest when he sees it's us, both with joy and sorrow, I mean, we are probably there to mock him right? To tell him how ugly his one eye is and to tell him we never wanna see him again, after all,

¿If not for that why else would the one person he loves more than everything be there before him after seeing his one eye?

When he only manages to babble a weak - why? Here? You...Huh...? -

But we don't say anything, we just kneel down and hug him, holding him close, letting him cry in our shoulder, with one of our hand rubbing comforting circles on his back and the other petting his hair, waiting for his cries to stop.

When they do all we say is a simple couple of words, almost got loud enough but just for him to hear, leaving his once broken heart renewed and beating so fast he feels he might have a heart attack.

- You are even more beautiful than I could ever imagine... -

Something so little to anyone else, but something so big for him that he doesn't think his fragile heart could take anything else.

But he doesn't need anything else, he only needs this,

He only needs you

(I propose the name Jade for him, ¿why?, bc when I first saw him I related him with one of my favorite gemstones💥)

-Yummy-

Oh my god this healed my soul, improved my grades, my eyes and skin are shining, world peace is happening, global warming ended and there’s no longer world hunger.

It just means so much to him, he’s so different from everyone else, he’s a monster. There’s no way you could love a creature like him who can’t even talk to you directly without exploding from nerves. He’s not handsome, he’s not charismatic, he’s not funny, he’s just a stalker who’s too pathetic to breath the same air as you.

Only thing bringing a bit of solace to him is the fantasies he has about you. Holding hands, going on dates, watching movies and cuddling, you saying you love him even if he’s a monster… Yes fantasies, such a thing can only happen in his fantasies.

So what’s happening right now? Is he dreaming? You’re so warm he can’t think straight. You think he’s beautiful? This can’t be real surely he misheard you. He can’t talk from the tears rolling down his eye. Please forgive him for getting your shoulder wet. He’s so just so, so happy right now. All he can do is hug you back and sob as he prays this is not just a dream.

[tinytennisskirt]

Never

Summary: Art breaking up with you over something you never had a say in to begin with. His future. Reminiscing over exactly what it is he’s leaving behind and the bittersweet of it all.

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking and smoking, not edited from my notes app

Your stomach flipped at the sight of the text from Art.

You free? We need to talk.

It was this odd sinking feeling, your feet suddenly the heaviest things to lift, your stomach instantly in a knot, twisting, making you sick. It’s not like you didn’t know it was coming. His distance drastically increased the past three days, plans you made had fizzled out to nothing by the means of odd-seeming and strategically-placed obstacles in his path. And you were fine, you’d thought.

And it wasn’t a lie. It was good. And happy. And healthy- both you and Art were communicative and understanding and allowed each other space and peace of mind when needed. Nothing was better than your time together, not felt better than his arms around you after a long day, nothing could come close to the way it felt when he would plant a simple kiss on the centre of your forehead.

And you felt things slowly unravel, like pulling on one string and having the whole sweater come undone. But it was quick. And it was unexpected. And he wanted to talk, asked you to meet him in his dorm room when you were done with your lecture and you just had that intuitive, gut feeling that this was it. You hoped to god you weren’t right. You were 89% sure but there was a 20% that was a pale ghost of optimism that laid overtop all of your doubt, co-existing within the one hundred.

If someone had asked you five days ago what the chances of him leaving felt like to you, you would have said it was a 4% chance he would go. Why would you have any reason to doubt him? He was your best friend and the man you were absolutely head over heels for. And him, he would hold you close all night if you let him, he would go out at four in the morning if you said you craved iced tea then and there, if you cried he would wipe your tears away and not let you go until you wanted and that would sometimes mean hours, and if you were sick he was there with soup and hands to hold back your hair.

But you felt the 89% in his sudden change of character as you knocked on his door and he opened it without pulling you into a hug or a kiss or anything of the sort. The same sort of hello just minus everything you knew and the cold of it was uncomfortable as you walked in and sat on his bed, pulling your feet up. He sat in the computer chair across from you, not on the bed with you, and you slowly felt the nausea creep up on you. Worse. His greeting was so empty of who he was. It was like even his room had lost colour.

“I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Us,” you finished. He met your eyes and then looked to the ground, nodding slowly. You knew it. You were confident enough to finish his sentence.

Art rested his elbow on his knee and allowed his chin to rest on his palm, fidgeting with his own lower lip. He paused for a moment, “I-um…” he started. Your stomach ached and you found yourself fidgeting with the ring on your finger. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, I’m struggling a bit.” He confessed, nervous smile on his face which you knew he had no control over.

“That’s okay,” you answered, smiling just a bit in response, though it was forced. Too forced, it almost hurt to make your muscles move this way when they resisted so hard. “Take your time.” You said. Gentle.

His hand rubbed over his mouth and then his eye, rubbing his left eye and coming to rest his hand along the side of his face, air blowing out through slightly parted lips. “I’ve been thinking about tennis.” He said.

You stayed quiet, listening patiently though the impulse to be impatient was such a threatening force. You hated the way you could feel the heartache already manifesting in your fingertips. What an odd place to feel it, you thought. Maybe it was the ghost of your optimism, trying to guide your heart to your fingertips so maybe you could reach out and keep him. What an odd thought.

“I think I’m leaving in the spring.” He said. You knew that he would be going on tour, pro, when the spring came. It was something you talked about often, his head in your lap and your hand in his hair. “And I was really wondering for some time what it would look like. Place to place and I-uh- I was talking to Patrick and he told me how tour is and I got to thinking…” he trailed off, meeting your eyes for just a moment. You pressed your lips together, trying to just sit still and listen quietly.

You nodded just slightly for him to continue, okaying the fact that you had listened so far. “Ive been losing sleep over it, how demanding it is and weighing that with how badly I want it and- I guess I don’t know how to do it all… with you.” He said. You saw it coming, you saw it coming as you walked over, you saw it coming from his text. “Badly phrased, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not good at this, I’ve never… done this.” He said, fidgeting more with his hands, trying to crack knuckles he’d already cracked as you just sat there absorbing it.

It was always obvious that Art loved tennis in a way that most people wouldn’t get. He wasn’t overly passionate about it, it didn’t consume his every thought, he wasn’t obsessed but it was a dream of his to go pro. Play big games with big names and it was a wonderful future he saw for himself but right now, feeling selfish, you wondered why he couldn’t see that future with you at the sidelines. You’d been to almost every one of his games at Stanford, you had been around for practices, you even tried to play a few times and you were awful but that didn’t matter, right? You loved what he loved because he loved it, even if you weren’t good at it. And you loved him for his aspirations and drive for success in something he loved and that was an amazing thing to observe. It’s not often you find a man who is so sure of what he wants, avoiding playing games with your heart, never hurting you intentionally and if he did, it was an accident and fixed, truly fixed. It never dawned on you that his idea of security didn’t involve you. Not the way your idea of security involved him.

No matter the variable of the future your idea of it was always with him. And the boys you’d known before him, you had avoided thinking about the future at all costs. You didn’t want kids with them, you didn’t want anything with them and you sometimes wondered why it didn’t come naturally and then Art came along and you found yourself thinking fondly over name ideas. And you were young- it was a bit far off from the time when you could truly have that future but you knew you wanted it. And you knew you wanted him and no one else to fill that role. He would be perfect, you thought, playing tennis with some little boy, some little version of yourselves and it was stupid, yes! Stupid because it was so far away but it wasn’t stupid to want. And you wanted a career and success, but not more than you wanted him.

Now when you looked at him where he sat you felt everything you’d ever seen for your future, every vision of your future home whether it be an apartment or a big White House, every vision of him coming home to you, every vision of him coming home to future children, it was fading. And your optimism with it. Why would he stay?

He just waited for your reply, his mouth twisted a bit to the side. “Why not?” You asked. Why couldn’t he do it all with you?

He looked at his hands, “It’s going to be a lot.” He said. “And it’s going to be hard for both of us and I just don’t think we’d survive it.” So he was giving up.

“Survive it?”

“Make it through.” He stated, fidgeting away. It was some peace of mind to know he struggled to say it. You felt the hot flush of impending tears wash over your body. “I think… the best course of action for us is if we go separate ways.” You bit your lip as the hot tears began to spring up in your eyes. You hardened your stare as to know show them, which you knew didn’t work but you still tried. “And I’m sorry.” He added.

“You think it’s best?” You asked. “For you or for me?” You immediately backpedaled, a single tear falling down your face but no real crying being allowed. “I’m sorry, that sounded really rude, I didn’t mean it that way.”

He chuckled, rubbing his eyes again, “No, I know. I get it. But I think for us, or I like thinking for us. I just… I know myself and I know that when things get tough and we would be apart so often… I would distance myself.” He nodded, continued, “I would hate for you to torment yourself over it because I know you’d worry. And I think it would be better to not have to deal with the heartache of it all then.”

“So you’ll deal it out now?” You asked. And you understood. He wanted to leave before it got messy, got hard to comprehend and live with. You didn’t see that coming in the slightest but when a man gets their mind set on something of the sort it’s hard to remove the notion from their stubborn mind. “Art, I don’t want that.” You told him. “I don’t want that future for us either. Distance wouldn’t matter to me, I could deal with the time apart.”

He buried his face in his hands, “I know and I’m sorry.” He said, muffled, rubbing his jaw as he lifted his head up. “I don’t want it either but I’m not ready to hurt you and I know the idea of it is going to keep me up at night just the fact that it feels like it’s going to happen at some point…” He sighed deeply. More of your tears streamed down your cheeks but you wiped them away and fought the urge to sniffle. “I don’t want to hurt you down the line.”

“So don’t,” you said, trying reason on the stubborn mind. “Don’t hurt me and don’t leave. Unless it truly doesn’t work.” You said. You wouldn’t beg, but you could try and get him to see reason. Your heart beat slow in your chest but with heavy, violent thuds. You wouldn’t never understand his mind, his true thought process. Just a week ago he was kissing your stomach on his way down, telling you that you were beautiful, just a week ago, you’d gone with his mom to lunch, just a week ago, you fell asleep in his arms and woke up still held just as tightly. And his reason was that he was afraid of something that was entirely up to him. But you’d take it. There wasn’t much else he could say.

“It’s the balance of things. I don’t know how I’d be able to keep up with us and tennis at the same time. And I hate that I don’t think I can do it, I’m so sorry.” Words of someone with their mind made up.

He didn’t even try yet. He was giving up before he even tried. Or even tried to try. And that was what you were worth, apparently. But you loved him, so of course you’d be happy to step aside if you were in the way of his dream.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked. “To not be worth that try?”

“No, no, you did everything right,” he said, leaning forward just a bit and you swore he almost reached for your hand. “It’s not that I’m not trying, I’m just trying to prevent more pain.” He said. “This is fucking killing me, I don’t want it but I don’t want you to hate me if I get too busy and ruin everything.”

“Art, it’s as simple as not hurting me.” You stated. “I want you and you… wanted me and I thought that was something.”

“No, it is something I just… don’t want to remember it as anything else. I don’t want this to ruin us.”

“You’re going to do exactly that. What am I supposed to say to that? Where’s the closure in that? You’re saying you want me but won’t keep me, that’s insane.” You tried again to reason and he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes again. “I thought I was worth more than tha-“

“You are. You’re worth so much and I hate that I’m doing this, but I don’t know how to go forward while maintaining us in the way that I know you want.” He tried to reason back, but it just didn’t work. It didn’t feel okay… or right. How could it? He promised forever, he was only saying it, he didn’t mean it. Every act that had led up to this point, the pre-relationship pining, the anticipation of a first kiss, first handhold, first time… Every act that had led up to him leaving what was it really worth if not some lead up to a perfect future. Or even an imperfect one, you would have loved an imperfect future with him. Another year, even. Or a good few months of him at least trying to keep your relationship intact, but he sat here saying he wouldn’t even try because he knew how it would end.

You hated knowing that if this was your situation, you would have found a way to make it work. You’d be trying harder than he was to keep him because you adored him and what other answer was there? When you want someone, you want someone and you would do all you could to keep them even if in the end it ended up being absolutely fucking pointless. You’d rather the fight than the abrupt ending on what was supposed to be ‘good terms’. He wanted to preserve the perfect people you were before the fight made you cold and mean but who was to say the fight wouldn’t have been worth it? It could even work out nicely, ending in peace. The peace you currently had… the peace you were losing.

You couldn’t stop him, that was evident. You knew what he wanted and it was his own peace of mind that he wouldn’t become a bad person, but you secretly hoped that this was a decision he would regret. And you did cry, just not loudly, you let yourself cry and he himself didn’t look so okay but there was good in that. It meant this was hard to do, it meant that you weren’t easy to leave. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I feel awful but I’d rather this over tearing us apart.” He said.

“It’s okay.” You said. And it was, it wasn’t a lie. His intentions were good and that was the worst part. He didn’t want to hurt you. He just had to give something up in order to achieve his goals and it happened to be you. As unfortunate as that was, you loved him enough to see his reason and still stay understanding even though it brought an end to the thing you wanted more than anything.

You pressed your lips together, then let another breath slip through them as they parted again, looking up at the ceiling. Than the wall. Then the window. The door. This would most likely be the last time you were in his dorm room and you found yourself trying already to convince yourself to let things go but it was just reflex. You were trying to protect yourself from the impending pain that would hit hard once that door shut behind you again. You were already trying to self-soothe, self-comfort as you felt the cracks spread throughout your body, getting ready to completely shatter.

You remembered the first time you were in his room. His walls were mostly bare, but now they were covered in posters you’d bought him. Pictures. Pictures of you, even. The pain in your fingertips flared through your body as you imagined him having to take them down. And what would he do with them? Where would they go? The same with the posters, though they were much less personal, would they remind him of you?

How much pain would he feel when you left? You wondered if it would be anywhere near the level of yours. It all depended on things you didn’t and couldn’t know- how long had he been wanting to do this? Had he been thinking about it for weeks trying to find the right time or was it cut and dry, a quick impulse? How long did he know he had to leave and what did he allow as he had the thought of leaving you in the back of his mind. Last week you’d fucked twice and it was slow and it was perfect and now you wondered if he knew that was the last time. The pain in your fingertips began to become a crushing force on your ribs, clenching your heart and you sobbed once into your hands.

You sat in the silence that was once so comfortable and he was right there and he wasn’t immediately a comfort. He wasn’t immediately your safety from your emotion, he couldn’t be anymore. You weren’t so lucky

It was the very bed you sat on then that had been the setting for most of your easy evenings. Talking, kissing, touching, asleep. And you wouldn’t be able to escape it going back to your own dorm. Your dorm room bed carried the same type of memories. And it was all pain, it wasn’t much else other than bittersweet. You wanted him, he wanted you but he wouldn’t do much to keep you other than end things. Here, now, after all of this.

He first kissed you outside of the tennis change rooms and around the side of the building where you waited for him after a successful game. His hair was still wet from the shower and sure he still had gum in his mouth but it was everything, the way you’d never kissed before but somehow fit so perfectly together. No clash of teeth, no bumping heads. A perfect, clean, movie kiss. And you thought about that now as you were looking at his lips. You didn’t think that there would ever come a time when you had to try and remember when you last kissed. The reality of the last kiss was something you were glad was lovely, you remembered exactly when he last kissed you and it was a long one. Last night you’d questioned it just slightly for its length and its passion but you guessed that he knew today would be the day. You wiped your eyes. Who would have thought you’d ever have a last kiss? Not you. And you were sure if this was a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought it up either. So you told him it was okay.

It didn’t feel much like it was but it would have to be. It wouldn’t feel okay for a long time but at its base, it was okay. Because you loved him and only wanted him to be happy and leaving you was what would give him the peace of mind to go and be successful. Tennis was everything to him the way he was everything to you. And just as he was worth everything and anything, so was tennis to him. That wasn’t to say he chose tennis over you- that’s not what he was doing and you knew that, even if it felt that way- but it was him prioritizing your peace. You could appreciate the sentiment even as the cracks it was leaving were beginning to open and ache.

“I just… I can’t believe this.” You said, smiling just the smallest bit. “I really thought this was it.” You sighed, crying quietly, trying not to. Begging yourself not to. …Things you said that you didn’t think through. You’d have time to regret it later but it just made Art look away from you. He couldn’t handle it. And you could see he had tears in his eyes, he couldn’t hide that. As much as you hated seeing him upset, it was good to know that this upset him and he wasn’t doing this emotionlessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you- don’t be sorry.” He said, sniffing, looking at you through his eyelashes, still fidgeting with his lower lip. “I promise it’s nothing you did. I promise you, you were perfect. You were everything.” The past tense killed you and you found it evoked a large breath from you. A sharp intake of air. You were perfect, everything, but not perfect or everything enough to stay and try. “Don’t be sorry, please.” He said.

But you couldn’t help it. Maybe there was some version of you that had done more that got to keep him. If you’d had been born into his world, money and tennis, maybe he wouldn’t have to sacrifice. “I’ll try.”

“You shouldn’t have to-“ he stopped himself just to wipe his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You hated seeing him cry. All you wanted was to reach forward and pull him in. All of the crying he’d witnessed from you, all of the emotions he’d been patient and kind with and now he was in tears and you couldn’t hold him the way he held you. It felt cruel and mean to not, but you knew it was wrong to, now that he’d stated what he wanted and it was no longer you. The ache in your chest felt magnetic to the feeling of comforting his matching aches and ills. It was all you wanted to do, wipe away his tears with your own. All you wanted was to make up as if this was some sort of weird fight and have him promise you the same thing he promised you a week ago. That he wasn’t going anywhere and that he wanted you. It could be so simple only if he tried. And none of this was fair- you didn’t get a say. You didn’t get to decide what happened with his future and you never did, but you should have had a say in the future of your relationship. You should have been allowed to fight to stay, even if everything burned down to the ground in the process. “I’m so sorry. I really am. Fuck.” He shook his head, still trying to hide how upset he was but it filled the room, both your feelings and his. Usually the words ‘I’m sorry’ were given a paved path by an ‘I love you’ and the silence beforehand was so empty. Too empty.

“This is it?”

“I know… I know it’s fast, I should have more to say but all I know is that you were perfect. And amazing, and I’m glad we got the time we did.”

Before he ended it. Right. You wanted to be upset, you really did. You wanted to talk the sense back into him, remind him of every time he said he loved you, remind him what it felt like to be loved by you. Remind him that what he is leaving behind are hot summer nights kissing in his car, the comfort of knowing someone inside and out completely and entirely. To remind him of your hands in his hair and his head in your lap and telling him secrets you’d never told anyone. Remind him what it felt like to be with you in every way. How he was your best friend, the one person in the world you could truly say knew everything about you just the same as you knew the most about him. All of him, every side of him. You wanted to kiss him and make him remember all of it.

Christmas, meeting his grandma, the sweetest and most gentle woman you’ve ever met. Art holding your hand under the table at Christmas dinner and sitting with your legs overtop his. Sleeping in his childhood bedroom in his arms. New years with him and Patrick and too much drinking and the taste of a cigar when he kissed you as the clock struck twelve, how that kiss didn’t end until you were breathing heavily, sweaty on your dorm room floor. You couldn’t even make it to the bed and you just laughed. As well as the night that you fell off your bed and you and Art laughed for way too long over something so simple because it was just you both. Best friends and in love and there was nothing greater in the world.

Birthdays when his gifts were beyond thoughtful. Diving into things you wanted as a child, finding them, giving you them. And he hardly ever let you thank him, batting your gratitude away like it was nothing to do all of that for you. And you did the same, hunting down the signed racket of a resigned tennis player he loved as a kid. That tennis racket was on his wall above his bed.

When he would kiss you when you talked too much (he would still wait until you were finished talking) and sometimes not when the only thing you were saying was judgemental of yourself. He loved to shut you up and tell you the exact opposite of any flaw you swore you had. He’d hold your face when he said it but it was mostly kissing. And you did the same when he needed it.

There was also the day he said he loved you for the first time and it was just an accident. He hung up the five hour long phone call with ‘goodnight, I love you’ and you say processing it for a minute before leaving your dorm room in your pajamas, running across campus and saying that you loved him too and he kissed you at the doorway as you stumbled into his room. And after that you talked for five more hours. You’d do that often, too- talk for hours. As friends it was all you would do and it didn’t end when you were together, you loved to talk to him about nothing and everything.

And the fucked up thing about wanting him to remember it all was that he probably already had. And decided that in all of it, it just wasn’t something he wanted more of for himself.

So you would have to go without. Everything. You wouldn’t see his grandma again, you wouldn’t visit his childhood home, touching photos of him as a wide-eyed, big-eared little boy with tennis dreams. You wouldn’t spend another night in his childhood bed let alone any bed with him, in his arms. You had to say goodbye to the version of you who knew comfort in his reassurance of everything he loved about you no matter how much you hated them. He’d never kiss your eyelids again. No more holidays, no more birthdays. No more hearing those three words. It was a blow big enough to knock the wind out of you, but you’d feel it later. For now you had to pretend you weren’t feeling your heart physically ache, the heartstrings pull and your heart as a whole clench.

He weighed the scales and he would rather go without.

You looked at the boy you loved and knowing this, you couldn’t help but cry, really cry. And when you truly broke, so did he. You could hear him cry quietly as you tried so hard to stop. No more crying, you urged yourself. These were your last moments here and you were crying. It was over, everything was over and this emptiness would be what you carried with you on your way back to your dorm. Then you’d carry it day to day while he went pro in the spring. You wondered how empty this would feel for him. But you would never truly know.

There were so many ‘never’s at your feet. And they pulled tears from your eyes and they streamed down your cheeks and you were desperately trying to stop them. He cried into his hands. “I was lucky,” you managed to say. “I’m proud…” you spoke through tears, “of you. For doing this. For us.” You hated how it sounded. It sounded fake, it sounded weird. He just cried and you stood up from his bed. There wasn’t much else to say, though you’d think about it all night. Things like this would happen- you had no more words for him that weren’t desperate pleads for him to remember why he stayed so that he wouldn’t leave. But you respected him too much. You wanted him to have the best shot at his future. No distractions, no you. You just stood next to his bed, tears falling consistently but without sound. “If you ever… want to come back. Don’t hesitate.” You said and you watched him tense up more under the weight of his own tears falling. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, voice breaking. You sobbed, turning to look at anything other than him, your perfect, lovely, sweet Art who you wanted more than anything. He looked at you and he stood up and you weren’t ready to say goodbye but you felt no other way to exist here anymore. You didn’t want to sob you didn’t want to have this be the end, you could say more, but you couldn’t think of anything that would change his mind and sure, you’d say it anyways but respect… you had to respect his decision, the decision he made without you, for you. There would never be true closure here. Ever. He would miss you, you knew that, how could he not? But life would go on. “You’re going?”

“I think so,” you replied. “But I’m not going anywhere, I-“ you couldn’t even finish what you were saying but he had to know it. All of everything came to this. “I couldn’t.”

He looked at you with those beautiful sad eyes and you couldn’t do much about them. You could have asked for a kiss goodbye but it would have been inappropriate. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask for a hug or anything, not even a touch just to feel his skin with intention one last time. Not even his hand… you fought yourself.

He had more to say and you knew it but maybe it was best with things unsaid. They might hurt to hear. And you knew you wouldn’t need more pain.

Despite your better judgement, despite everything you were scared of- despite not even being sure if he wanted it, you put your hand on the side of his face. He leaned into it like he always did and that was the true breaking point. The cracks in you split themselves open and you felt like you were suffocating. It was the last time your hand would hold him in any way. “Goodbye, Art.” You said it first, though it was really him who made the first move. You felt his tear as it rolled from his eyes and onto the side of your hand just before you pulled it away, puppy dog eyes holding so much pain.

“I’m sorry.” He said again. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: Save Who You Can Save

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: CHARACTER DEATH, description of intense injuries, trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse

—————

Joel...save who you can save.

“Be glad I gave you the family reunion you were so desperate for,” Her finger rests on the trigger and you’re unsure why you aren’t afraid. Maybe you’ve expected death for a while, whether from something simple or by infected. To be executed by your mother in front of your father wasn’t how you thought it would go.

A loud guttural cry pieces through the night pausing your inevitable death as it grows quiet for a moment. You feel the ground rumble under your cheek like something large moving. Another familiar screech that sends fear in not just Jacksonians but Raiders alike.

“Infecte—” A man shouts but is bodyslammed by a runner who beats his face in. It’s complete chaos you see something jump over you and you watch your mother get tackled hearing the sound of gunfire and screams filling the air. Someone grabs you and you see it’s Joel shouting something at you but a high-pitched ringing from the sight of your mother being mauled. Tommy appears with a rifle shoving another weapon in Joel’s grasp as they try pulling you away and defend themselves at the same time. Your vision catches a clicker enter the stables and your mind runs clear only one through.

Lila.

You shove Joel away and he screams your name watching you disappear amongst the chaos. He would have gone after you if a clicker hadn’t rushed him forcing him to defend himself. It’s a bloodbath of either infected or humans dropping like flies. You were surprised to see the sudden resurgence of Jacksonians joining the fight to stop the raiders and infected. Rushing into the stables you hear screams and see Lila under a table out of Red’s pen her legs kicking at a clicker trying to grab her. With a roar, you jump the clicker stabbing it in the neck as it screeches before falling dead. She cries rushing into your arms and you pick her up. Her back is wet with blood and you see the dead man’s body and a smear assuming she slipped on it.

“We gotta go!” You yell rushing to Red’s pen opening it fully pulling the horse out. Placing Lila on the saddle before climbing on top holding her close to your chest. “Hyah!” Red bursts out of the stables into the chaos, a building is on fire, and gunfire from every direction as you guide Red out the main gate. Some infected try chasing after you but you fire your rifle at them mowing some of them down as you disappear into the night.

It took hours and many dead men and women to finish off the raiders and infected. The main gate was heavily damaged from the invasion and they lost many brave men and women as well as many innocents. A large pyre was built in the middle of the town to burn the bodies. Many were outraged they couldn’t bury their dead but the council couldn’t tell who was killed by raiders or by infected so they had to be certain no one was going to turn. Joel stared grimly at the flames still caked in blood and grime along with the many others, Ellie tucked in his side tears in her eyes at the many they lost. Joel catches his brother’s eyes across the pyre a conversation needing to happen.

“Ellie,” he squeezes her shoulder, drawing her attention, “Go join Maria in helping settle the children.” Many homes were destroyed or ransacked, so currently, there is a sanctuary at the church, where many of the injured are being taken care of since the clinic is way too small to house so many. Ellie nods before heading off, where Dina and Jesse join her. Tommy stands beside his brother, still in grime and blood from the night before.

“We haven’t found her b—” Tommy speaks his voice heavy.

“She’s not dead.” Joel’s words are final as he continues watching the flames. After you disappeared within the chaos he never saw you again. You and Lila left no trace besides the stables missing Red and the dead body of a raider and clicker. Your mother’s body was almost missing so they weren’t sure where she went off to which didn’t settle his nerves knowing she was seconds away from killing his daught–

“She’s alive,” Joel says glancing at his brother, “She knows how to survive, she would have lived tonight. Where would she go.” Tommy grows quiet, he knew your places here in Jackson. Where you went to be alone or avoid people he knew those hiding spots. But outside Jackson.

“She’d head back to the cabin,” Tommy says and Joel looks over at him. “Ever since we brought her here that’s the only thing she’s asked for. After that, I’m not sure where else she’d head to, knowing her most likely North to more desolate areas.”

“Then we head back to the cabin.”

You didn’t realize how close Jackson was to the cabin, it’s harder to tell directions during the winter but with it all melted into spring and life brought back you recognized familiar landmarks once covered by snow. Guiding Red out of the dense forest over the small hillside there was the cabin. The snow had long melted and the bodies that once there seemed disposed on the outside. The hole was still in the roof but you were surprised to see it standing. You expected the Raiders to have burnt it to the ground. Lila is fast asleep on your lap as you guide Red to the pond where she eagerly drinks water. Sliding off with Lila in your arms you pat Red’s coat.

“Thank you, Red.” You whisper before adjusting your grip and heading inside. The place was completely deserted as you rested Lila on the destroyed couch before checking to make sure the area was secure. Returning to Lila who was still asleep you take in her feverish complexion resting your hand on her forehead feeling how hot she was. Opening your pack finding your canteen and a rag you drench it in the cold water before placing it atop her forehead. Looking over her you freeze seeing a slight muscle spasm in her hand. You rub your eyes hoping you're just imagining it from the exhaustion but then you see it again her hand full twitch before falling limp. She seems almost lifeless in your grasp as you pull up her sleeves not seeing anything, peeling her collar back and her skin though dirty but clear, you grab one of her legs pulling up her pant legs and there’s nothing, you grab her other leg feeling your hand grow damp from blood as you pull up the cuff.

“Oh god,” You fall back covering your mouth with your arm at the sight, of her leg with a clear bite mark and the infection spreading strongly deep red and black veins protruding from it. You feel sick at just the sight of it taking in the young girl who looks peacefully sleeping but is transforming with every second. Why didn’t you check more thoroughly for the bites, you could have done more. You could have gotten her to Ellie maybe she could have turned her immune if that’s even how it works.

“Y/n…?” Lila slurs out like she is woken from a groggy nap but it was the infection taking over.

“Hey, I’m here,” You rush forward pushing back strands of sweaty hair that stick to her forehead. “We’re safe okay we got out.”

She smiles, “Did momma and daddy get out?” She asks and you grow quiet and you see the twitching in her hand before it dies down.

“Yeah, they did…but we got separated,” You feel a burning in your throat as you speak the next words, “We’re gonna go see them soon though.”

“I can’t wait to see momma and daddy!” She says happily though still weak and you smile those tears burn at the back of your eyes. You look up forcing them back before clearing your through.

“y-Yeah..me too.”

You clean Lila up when she falls asleep again her energy drained from just a simple conversation taking the time to trash your old bedroom to let out the rage and sadness inside of you. When Lila reawakes you’re sure she can see your bloodshot eyes. Taking her outside she smiles at the vast amount of fields and flowers that surround the cabin.

“So pretty,” She slurs as you sit amongst the grass as she plucks flowers. You can see it’s taking over more and more and you know keeping her like this is wrong but you can’t get the strength to do this. She holds out a flower for you as her hand violently twitches, “For you.” You smile placing it in the pocket of your flannel being careful with your rifle still slung over your shoulder not to let the strap crush it.

“Thank you, honey.” You say before looking at your pack lying beside you and on top of it the pistol. You glance back seeing the twitching only gets more frequent as you feel sick.

“Lila sweetie,” You call out to her, “You wanna see some fish?” You try to keep your tone light but you’re too choked up to fake it. She doesn’t seem to notice whether her oblivion or the one induced by the infection.

“Fishy!” You tuck the item in your waistband before coming and helping her to her feet as you two stand guiding her over to the pond. She giggles at the colorful fish swimming around and the frogs hop across the lily pads. You crouch down to her height placing a kiss on her temple and letting yourself rest there for a moment. Before you rise take a few steps back to admire her the beautiful and innocent of her ever as this deadly thing takes over something so pure. Your hands shake as you check to see the gun has a bullet in the chamber, cocking it back the noise fills the air but Lila doesn’t pay mind to it.

“li-Lila…” Your voice cracks as you call out her name and she doesn’t turn to face you, “I love you.” Your voice drifts through the wind as her waning attention is still focused on the pond.

“I love you too Y/n.” She says and tears streaming down your face as you raise the pistol to aim. Closing your eyes your finger pulls the trigger. A loud crack fills the air before the sound of a thud. Your knees hit the ground your face pressing into the dirt as you sob. Your fist bangs against the grass and dirt as you cry into the earth cursing it. For bringing you into this world, for making you find such pure thing to love, for making you be the one to end its suffering.

“Y/n..”

A slurred voice calls out and you whip your head up to see a person standing a few feet away from you. She was covered in blood and grime, her clothing ripped and tattered, but you could see the multiple bite marks that littered her from her neck down to her legs. She twitches erratically her eyes bloodshot and shifty as she moans in pain.

Your mother.

Her gaze moves from you to the body that lies behind you and she with the dwindling mind left in her as the pieces connect. She screeches rushing towards you with flaying arms and you raise your rifle firing at her legs. She hits the ground and this anger you’re not sure you’ve felt before overtakes you. Retribution for all the pain and suffering she put you through, every tear shed, every drop of blood bled, for the pain she put Jackson through, the pain she put Ellie through, for Tommy and Maria, the pain she put Lila through, the pain she put Joel through. You let it take over as you used her as your punching bag. Your rifle fires multiple shots at her arms when she tries crawling leaving her writhing and screaming in pain. You jerk the empty clip out fill a new one and hold the trigger as you spray her with bullet holes, her screams pierce the serene atmosphere, and you reload another clip. She stares up at you with tears in her eyes, with the last bit of humanity whether for mercy from your wrath or to finish her off and end her suffering. But you didn’t want her to die, you wanted her to feel exactly what you thought. You scream pressing on the trigger as she is painted in bullets, you don’t care that she isn’t moving anymore. The rifle stalls empty of bullets and you throw it to the side with a roar pulling out your handgun and shooting her in the head her skull fractures open more, and your gun jams. You scream pulling out the knife as you fall to the ground stabbing her blood and spraying it on your face pulverizing her brain matter as you sob and scream. You embed the knife deep into her coming through the other end into the ground as you fall to the side emptying your stomach. Your throat burns from the acid as you hack and cough up practically a lung as you cry. Pushing back you look at the scene you left behind your hand scrambling for the pistol. Opening the clip you see only one bullet left and your mind goes numb. Reloading the singular bullet you rise to shaky feet stumbling over to Red who paces at the event just happening. Untying the reins you let them fall from your grasp.

“Go Red,” Your voice hoarse as she doesn’t move pressing her snout against your shoulder and you shove her away, “Go away Red!” You yell smacking her rear and she rushes off and you watch her disappear over the hillside. Dragging your feet back to between the corpses of your mother and sister you let yourself fall to your knees draining it all. Pulling the crushed flower from your pocket a few petals fall as you bring it to your nose taking a deep inhale of the earth. The last good thing you can say you did. Sat and smelled the flowers before you died. Raising the pistol not even flinching at the cool metal gracing your temple your finger undoing the safety with a click. Your finger rests on the trigger looking at the small beauty left in this fucked up world.

“Y/n!”

And you pull the trigger.

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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If your name is crossed out tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry :(

[cindol]

͘ ࣭⸰ ! PAPA TO THE RESCUE ! ͘ ࣭⸰

characters included : ken ryuguji, wakasa imaushi, benkei,shinchiro sano x fem reader

﹒.ᐟ 𐚁 cw— fluff, draken is 27, wakasa,benkei and shin are in early 30s, wakasa is a gym trainer, draken and shinchiro are bike shop owner, boo’s boo’s and ouchies just mean cuts or bruises, shin curses around his kid like once without noticing, all the black dragon men have a funny gag of being afraid of their wife(reader),

synopsis— Tokyo rev men cleaning up bruises and cuts with their baby girls.

a / n : all the men are girl dads because I said so

| KEN RYUGUJI ( aka draken )

immediately to the rescue while he sees his daughter trip over a silver wrench. He’s fixing a tire on his motorcycle but when he sees her go quiet then cry he lets out a quiet “shit shit.” and drops the tire and whatever tool he has to run over and pick her up.”you okay? That was a big fall huh?”

still sulking and crying his daughter nodded.“knee hurts..” he looked down to see her small knee, it wasn’t a big cut just a small slit that needed some care but still a huge deal to the six year old.“well i think daddy will make it all better.”

the small girl had a grimace look on her chubby face.“but mama always helps with my cuts..” having draken clean her boo’s boo’s instead of you would be a weird change but draken would try anyways.

“Well nothing wrong with change right? ‘member what Ms. Winters said?” He reminded her making his little girl hum.“change is good.”

He did a simple nod and sat her down on the stool he was originally sitting on.“now I’m sure I got some bandages around this garage, just sit here.”

Searching through and through he eventually found bandages and turned to her. She still had a worrying look.”

exhaling he walked over getting on his knees and placing a hand on her knee.“I promise I’ll try my best to do it just as mommy does, cross my heart.”

the small child pretended was pondering but hesitantly nodded, with her permission he put the bandage over. He though he was done until she was frowning making him confused.”I miss something?”

she pointed down to the bandage on her knee.”mama always gives me a kiss to make it all better.”

He chuckled, of course there was something extra. He placed a small kiss to her knee looking up with a toothy grin.”that better?” there was now a happy smile on her chubby cheeks.

“Now let’s go to mama, can smell her cooking something up from here.”

| WAKSA IMAUSHI

He isn’t very surprised when he sees his son trip over something once again, he’s use to his little girl being a wild one who likes getting into things and just being unaware of her actions. Still she was a four year old child so he stops when he trips over one of waksa’s weights then cries sitting on the floor. Putting down whatever medium sized weight he was lifting and getting off the couch to pick up his fumbling son.

he picked her up letting out a breath of air just at her snot nosed face and big eyes filled with tears. “what am I gonna do with you kid huh?”

The same lilac eyes he had stared back at him squinting with a wobbling look.“got a ouchy on my leg..”

Looking down at her chubby leg there was a bruise and small cut, nothing major but still needed good care even for his little tomboy.“did you huh?” He scratched his head pausing.“your mama ain’t around? Usually she’s good at this kinda thing kid but she’s doing her grocery shopping.”

“Let’s figure this out ourselves.“That immediately made his tomboy daughter shake her head back and forth profusely when he put her down.“nuh uh! mama usually helps heal my ouchies! You’ll just make ‘em all bad and icky.”

a puzzled look was on wakasa’s face.“bruises and cuts are bad in general, ain’t no way for me to make them more nasty kid.” he paused.“Now cmon, can’t wait for your mom to just get here all day, about time I learned how to do this.”

While the two walked to the kitchen which wasn’t far his tomboy child had a questioning look.“about time? You’re just now doing like bandage stuff?!” she said in a shocked tiny voice

wakasa just waved her off while walking and then stopping when they were now in the kitchen.“relax relax kiddo, your mom’s always bandaged me up when we were young but it’s time for pop’s to learn how to clean himself up and you.”

with his daughter sitting at a table that was slid out from the diner table he searched through the kitchen drawers for the aid kit then slapped it straight on the dining table.“mama might not want nastiness on the table!” she exclaimed but still Wakasa waved it off with a smile.“then how about we keep it a secret? Your mama won’t even know”

she whirred.“promise?”

he nodded.“pinky promise, on my heart.” Hearing his confirmation she shook pinkies with him.”now you gonna let me try to clean this bruise you were having a frenzy over?” she nodded putting her leg out.

you eventually found out wakasa put the aid kit on the clean dining table when coming home from grocery shopping.

| KEIZO ARASHI (aka benkei)

Knew it was coming when he was playing with his daughter in the backyard. He was too over protective over his ten year old but it was bound to happen, she was just too active for her own good but that didn’t stop him from rushing over when she fell.

She was just there on her stomach after tripping on a medium sized rock and tree branch. He kneeled down to her helping her on her feet with obvious concern in his eyes.“you alright there? that was a huge fall.” His eyes were just tracing her face, there was no sign of her needing an emergency but still he worried.

It just made her snicker dusting herself off.“I’m okay daddy, just like some stupid scratches.” Looking down her leg had some reddish bruise, not very obvious and something to worry about but it still needed taking care of to benkei.

a immediate groan came out from his darling daughter when she saw his subtle face expression, they weren’t very expressive but she saw what was going through his mind.“dad I’m not some icky four year old! Whatever bruise I got will heal on its own, I’m strong like you remember?” she joked making benkei huff.

“I’m not no whimp girl, just don’t need your mom tearing me in a new one.” it was funny how even a big man like benkei had some fear over her mother.

With both of them now in the bathroom his daughter sat on top of the seat of the toilet spinning around until benkei found the aid kit and opened it up, next he grabbed a near by clean rag and wet it up and clean it to then put a bandage on.

| SHINCHIRO SANO

Doesn’t overreact but makes a small ‘ooh…’ hissing noise at how his daughter falls over one of the tires he was replacing on his jeep. She went face down right onto the cold floor of his bike shop.

When she doesn’t respond he thinks everything is okay till a soft cry is heard making him drop his cigarette then stomp it out before running over.“ah shit shit, you alright there sweetheart?” she makes a gentle shake of the head that was a no.

when picking her up she had a bit of dirt on her face probably from the tire, well her clean white shirt you put on her before was very dirty actually, he knew he was gonna get quite the mouthful from you over it.

With him kneeling and his daughter standing before him some sniffing was heard from her.“stupid tire got in my way!” Her small foot wanted to kick at it in childish anger making shin scratch his neck at that chuckling a bit.“Ah my bad honey, maybe daddy should watch out just tossing things around here huh?”

The small seven year old nodded with a pout on her lips.“my shirt got all dirty and my face is dirty daddy! Need to find mama so she can clean me up.”

that made shin gulp and pull at the neck part of his shirt. You would most definitely have a few words for him for having your daughter’s fresh clean shirt from the dryer get dirty.“ah no no, I think mama is probably enjoying her nice day at the house without us yeah? I think the two of us can figure this out ourselves.”

the little girl wanted to hesitate but she trusted her papa, even if his style of cleaning might be different from her dad. She gladly took the hand of her father for him to take her to the bike shop’s bathroom to clean her face.

you ended up finding out anyways.

[unluckilyimnot]

Heyy! So I’m struggling with an ed at the moment and I read your headcanons where the tr boys find out reader has an ed but I was wondering if u could do that for the Bonten trio? Tyyy

s/o who has ed

Characters : Ran, Rindou, Sanzu (all Bonten)

Type : ansgt, hurt to comfort

Words count : 0.5

m.list

It’s fine, I can write about it, it’s just the same as an old one I did : I speak as a girl who experienced it in a certain way, so I’ll do my best and I don’t mean any hurt it can cause. If you’re struggling with ed we can talk about it if you feel like it, but at least don’t hesitate to talk about it. Only around people you’re safe please, I don’t want you to go through the same things as I did. You can get through it even if it’s hard (I did but I’m not cured at all)

I love you, take care of yourself and people around you, please

Ran notices how you never touch the left over, even if he put it there for you to eat. He tried multiple times, just to be sure, but every time you already ate, or you're not hungry, or not enough so you’ll just eat some fruit. He knows too well what’s going on, yet he doesn’t know how to handle it. He can’t force you to see someone, but it hurts him acknowledging all your tricks, the way you still smile in front of your food when he hears you throwing up right after.

“Why aren’t you eating ?” It’s past midnight, you’re already reading tug in your shared bed and Ran just sat beside you. You can’t process it at first, it makes you feel sick. “It’s not a crime, I imagine what it is, but I want to understand you. And help if I can. Explain it all to me. Please.”

For a few seconds you tried to doubt that you deserve a man like him, before recalling he can kill for money. He may not be the best man out there, but he is for you. He’s ready to do better and understand you without getting mad. At the thought you shed a tear, and another and before you realize it you can’t articulate a proper sentence beside telling him that you’re sorry. Deeply sorry to be like this.

“It’s not your fault, don’t be sorry. I’m here for you.”

Rindou feels that you’re smaller than you used to be, so much smaller. It’s like he hasn’t held you in a million years when it’s only been two weeks since he left. He grabbed you a little more, here and there, but you can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Let me go to Rindou..”

“You’re so small, why ? Have you eaten enough when I was gone ?” panicked rush through his veins when he sees your eyes meeting the floor, guilt creeping into both of you. He knew it, he always did. He simply thought you were doing better since he was there and after all those years struggling together. It was that simple for you to stop it and start it all again. He’s helpless and, oh so sorry but not in a way when he feels like giving up. In a way that if he had to do it all again, from the beginning for you to get better, he will.

Sanzu doesn’t eat much himself, which is not helping with his addiction but he wants you to be healthy. He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting your body more than you already have to do. So when he finally realizes all your tricks to make him believe that you're eating normally despite your showing bones he’s more sad than mad. He knows he’s nobody to talk to, he’s destroying himself little by little too, but thinking he can lose you that way made him cry on your knees. You don’t even know what to do, you’re simply sorry but without being able to promise him you’ll stop.

“Don’t leave me” he cried out, not ready to lose someone else.

“I’ll try,” you replied.

In the silence, between his cries, there’s a secret promise that both of you will try to get each other out of their way, even if they can’t even help themselves.

Fist post in years /lit a bir short excuse me but i have to get used to it again

Hope you like it ♡

[stari-hun]

Theopil

I think Theopil died with the same type of resignation Isolde had towards being hypnotized by Kakania.

Theopil likely resented Isolde while loving her. Isolde was raised with a kind of love and attention he wasn't given from Evangeline in her process of being raised as her successor. Isolde's existence was also discovered right after Trista's death. Trista and him were as close in age as Isolde and Trista, so he would've grown up with her and seen as Evangeline took her off to awaken her abilities as a medium only to not return. I think the circumstances of her birth is also a reason to why Theopil avoided the Dittarsdorf house as a whole, opting to bring Isolde back gifts before spiriting away again.

When Theopil brought Isolde a broach for her 15th birthday, the box was also from Heinrich who was a childhood friend to her (although she didn't consider him so close). Heinrich also mentioned in the scene Kakania and Isolde met that Theopil never stopped talking about Isolde to him and praising her. I don't think he stopped thinking of her either.

In the UTTU event the Dittarsdorfs are mentioned frequently along with Kakania from the people who lived in Vienna. One of them mention talks about Theopil and gives insight to his social reach in the art community. While Theopil lacked the talent of the women in the Dittarsdorf line, he was still a noble who was comfortable enough financially to enjoy the arts alongside being a man in the 1910s. He was known to experiment with many art mediums and talked to many people. He’s explicitly talked about as a friendly and open person as well as implied to be an easy going mediator. Heinrich revealed he talks about Isolde all the time and praises her. However he doesn’t talk about Evangeline, keeping them both tucked away in a drawer instead of putting their outward personas onto canvas’ to hang up in his gallery despite taking in many models for his art. I think his reasoning behind this is equal parts due to him or wanting to avoid his family and childhood as well as wanting to keep the world away from them. Marcus’ event shines a light best on the subject, the general public is the same as it’s always been, they demand an entertaining story. Isolde saw Mr. Karl for what he wanted out of the family along with how he saw Evangeline as a rotting consumable not yet used up. Theopil saw a similar thought process in everyone with how people talked about Isolde and obsessed over her. He likely had incidents with people wanting to get to her and Isolde diffusing the situation as a simple job hazard. He kept the only art piece and expression of them in a drawer safe from the world.

Theopil's last painting contained a circle and ritual for immunization from The Storm. Gained from Arcana he was told the truth the Foundation was hiding from everyone as well, leading to his panic surrounding it. After learning time was reversing Theopil must've thought of his friends, but most of all how Isolde would never get better. However what Theopil didn’t account for was that Isolde had no intention of getting better due to just anyone’s help. He was the only character to really see Isolde’s cries for help, but he didn’t take into account for the fact that she wasn’t asking for help from anyone besides Kakania.

Heinrich also makes his point during his monologue in 6.20 that art is a symbol of progress towards self-expression. In 6.21 he directly states his goal, "The 'Storm' will put a stop to this frenetic melody before all the good, artistic, heartfelt things in life are destroyed before our eyes." As a person in the center of the social circles for the artists of Vienna, and thus the social circles of nobility, Theopil would be intensely aware of how much time means for progress. He would've known that Isolde would grow worse with time unchecked, but she'd never grow better without time either. The Salvation was made as an effort to continue time again for people, and Theopil made it for Isolde.

[legyt]

Reading Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye (MTMTE) #16

(Been busy with prepping up for New Years, but Im back. Ive read up to #22, so this is just me going back to a specific part)

This part in particular got me HOOKED deeper into Chromedomes character, even more so when I first found out abt him being a mnemosurgeon and a former partner of Prowl.

Its knowing the fact that hes had ppl lik Rewind with him before, and the way Brainstorm implies that Rewind isnt his first conjux endura, and that perhaps the reason why hes 'born dry' of innermost energon to even offer Rewind any back when he was critically injured, was that he gave so much of it away that he just - ran out, zip, nada. He just, ran dry after giving so much of it away to ppl he loved, that had died and he mourned for.

Until. Until he made himself forget them, removing the connections he had with these ppl so that it wont hurt anymore. He knows its easy to get rid of the hurt and pain. Just lik that, a needle stab to the neck, and itd b lik he didnt just lose someone hed love.

He gave so much of himself that hes got nothing left to give, but in the face of living with the pain of losing someone, he severs whatever remained of the ppl he once loved.

His memories of them, with them, and evrything abt them.

It was Brainstorm saying that, without a doubt, that "Yeah, you will cuz we had this conversation before" is what got broke me even more when I was reading it. It still does, because.

Brainstorm is telling him this as a friend, whos seen him end up making the same decision again and again.

Just. Imagine what it wouldve been lik the first time for Brainstorm to ask if Chromedome was doing alright after, but gets nothing.

No grief, no pain. Nothing. Not even recognition from Chromedome when he says their name, as if it meant nothing to Chromedome when Brainstorm knows it does. Its suppose to. And then thats when you realize what was done, what Chromedome did, and it was because it hurt too much for him that he made an 'easy' decision.

But cmon, lets b fcking honest, how tf is it easy to just, remove a person you loved so deeply from your memories and not find it hard?? Because u didnt want to feel the hurt, the pain, and the suffocating grief that came with losing that person.

"Your attention for a moment. This is Rewind, showing you edited footage from my database. I've probably got nought point eight seconds before game over so hear me out! I've always been terrified that you'd die before I did, because you and me apart strikes me as intensely wrong. So promise me something: Be brave. Be strong. And keep going without me. And another thing: No more injecting - it will kill you. And remember: You deserve to be happy... The new institute was the old you. You're a better person now - stubborn and frustrating, but wonderful! And to think - I will never see you again. One more thing - one last thing - because I don't say it enough: I love you." - Rewind (TF MTMTE #16)

YALL MUST UNDERSTAND

THIS FINAL MESSAGE WAS THE FINAL NAIL TO MY COFFIN

I cried.

Simple as that.

I bawled my fcking eyes out so bad, I layed on the couch at 2 AM, being a sobbing messy wreck.

I was shocked at first, and it didnt hit me immediately, but when this page came next I started crying.

Then after I closed my tab and just, layed there listening to sad music as I fcking cry.

I cannot express how much this unraveled me. BUUUUT, I can lay out why it made me feel... why it made me feel.

To start with: Chromedome making a different choice this time, because Rewind told him he deserved to be happy, that hes different to who he was before - someone better.

And I think, part of it was because Rewind made him promise to keep going without him, to stop injecting with his needle fingers.

LIK BRO, I-

All that and in the end, Rewind tells him:

"I love you".

BUT OOOOOOOH

ohhhh theres another one I wanna talk abt...

"You deserve to be happy... The new institute was the old you. You're a better person now - stubborn and frustrating, but wonderful! And to think - I will never see you again."

In this part, that specific page.

THE PARALLELS ARE PARALLELIIINGG 🙉

"You deserve to be happy..." It shows Drift walking out, cuz hes getting banished.

"The new institue was the old you." Gets hit, went down

"You're a better person now - stubborn and frustrating, but wonderful!" But Ratchet helps him up

"And to think - I will never see you again." Drift took a shuttle and left the Lost Light as an exile

PLS PLS PLSPLSPLS PLEASE TELL ME IM NOT THE ONLY ONE THINKING THIS

[shardechance]

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔢

ao3 link | playlist | detailed content warnings | masterlist

pairing: gwynriel

rating: explicit

wc: 19k

warnings: major character death, cannibalism, dubious consent

A casket is delivered to the cemetery to be buried, left in the care of Azriel, its lonely custodian. Against his better judgment, he opens it only to find the face of his long unrequited infatuation. Outside, a ghoul prowls the grounds, watching, and waiting for the moment to make him hers. The girl in the box serves as the perfect distraction, her cries a siren song to lure him out into the night. It’s a wonder that Azriel has managed to escape her thus far, but it comes as no surprise that he sinks so readily into her claws, now.

[FREAK WEEK DAY 2]

read on ao3 or proceed below for brief snippet.

“Brain hemorrhage,” Greg says finally, after an uncomfortably long pause. He steps back from the casket, staring down at the surface. Azriel’s fingers twitch, and he allows his arms to fall back down to his sides instead of reaching for it.

Greg catches the movement out of his periphery, turning his head to study Azriel. Without any further question, or warning, he leans over and flips open the lid to the casket. Hands curved around the edge, peering in at the figure draped in white. Azriel reels, taking half a step back at the sight of brilliant, copper red—her hair—and he closes his eyes, just for a moment. 

When he opens them again, there’s Gwyneth Berdara lying cold in the box before him. Autumn honey curls left loose around her shoulders, shorter than the last time he’d seen her. She’d worn a yellow dress then, warm mustard yellow like the tail end of summer. Now, they’ve wrapped her in the same lace dress they give all the women whose families never provided specific requests. Sizes 0 through 30, and bought in bulk. When her body rots, the ill-fitting polyester will remain.

A silver chain, twisted slightly and just off center, lies against her chest. Next to one of the buttons of her dress, there’s a simple cross charm. Scratched and worn, as if from constant wear.

“Damn shame, isn’t it?”

Azriel lifts his chin without taking his eyes off that cross. “Depends,” he says.

Greg furrows his brows in a look all too familiar. Concern, but only at the superficial level, and not enough to say a word about it. His yellowed fingers scratch at unkempt stubble, sniffing sharply and the way he so casually does so, especially in the presence of the body atop the altar, sparks abject revulsion in Azriel. Everything about this man lends to discomfort, but catering to the sensibilities of others is not Azriel’s job, and therefore not his problem.

He looks back to Gwyn, or the body that used to be her, and allows his gaze to fall to the soft curve of her cheek, makeup separating. To the silver studs in her ears, the lipstick painted on her dry bottom lip. Small details, now that he’s able to stomach the entire image. Details imperceptible to those disquieted by the dead, but not to someone like Azriel who doesn’t mind paying careful attention.

“Right,” Greg says. He adjusts the clipboard in his hands unnecessarily, and pointedly steps back from the altar, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Look, I have another delivery to make tonight.”

“Okay,” Azriel says.

“The, uh…” Greg pauses, as if waiting for Azriel to look at him. He doesn’t. “The chaplain will be by later. Far as I know, he’s gonna meet the family here.”

“How long?”

Greg deflates. “How long what?”

“How long until they arrive?” Azriel asks. Finally he looks up, at the far less appealing and noticeably twitchy face of the funeral assistant.

Greg scrubs his hand over his face, likely an attempt to hide the eye roll Azriel has no trouble noticing. It doesn’t bother him nearly as much as the sight of Greg using the casket as something to lean on.

“Look, I don’t know,” Greg says, and finally a bit of his frustration leaks out into his tone. He gestures vaguely to the casket, eyes already set on the door. “Just sit tight. She’s not gonna get up and walk away.”

tag list: @velidewrites @melting-houses-of-gold @popjunkie42 @secret-third-thing @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @jon-snows-man-bun @iftheshoef1tz @shardminds @damedechance

[tf2thoughtdump]

TF2 Thought of the Day

Headcanon? Yes.

Character(s)? All the mercs, team not specified but for simplicity’s sake, the red team

Long or Short? Long. This may take a while.

You're free to use any thoughts of mine in any form of media you make.

Thought

This one is real simple, it’s how I think the mercs would handle being given a baby. Enjoy!

Scout

Literally going crazy

Like, about to explode levels of crazy.

Gushing over every inch of this baby from her big eyes to her tiny nose and down to her chubby little hands and feet

Luckily, the little munchkin doesn’t seem to mind his intense energy so it works out

He does his best, but admittedly he is a bit… rusty

The first time he tried holding her, he wasn’t properly securing her head

The second him, he was just holding her upside down

He’s not the WORST merc to leave a baby with, but you have better options.

Soldier

Not really sure what to do with this….

Recruit.

He held her FAR from his body before opting to just tuck her under his arm like a loaf of bread

This didn’t last long though because he eventually found a way to keep her strapped to him with his belt

Uncomfortable, sure, but the baby could care less

She was more concerned with who gave her to this man in the first place

Soldier is your last resort

Pyro

Is most likely to set the baby’s diaper on fire when it gets full

He’s not BAD with a baby, it’s just…

There are so many better options!

They can hold the baby right, that’s not the problem, the problem is the outfit

The rubber, the material in general

Babies need skin-on-skin contact and Pyro.. doesn’t exactly fit the bill with that one

She’s definitely gonna make the baby uncomfortable but it’s nothing a good tickle won’t fix!

Demoman

Why?

Just….

Why?

Did you run out of options again?

Was Soldier too busy so you had to wake up Tavish?

What on Earth could be running through your mind to think leaving a baby with a drunk is a good thing?

He might rock it to sleep, but that’s about all you’re getting

Heavy

Your number 1 go to if you need a babysitter

He’s got three younger sisters! How hard can taking care of a baby be?

You’ll soon come to find out that with Heavy? Taking care of a baby is a piece of cake.

No complications, no fusses, no unchanged diapers

Just Heavy asleep on a couch too small for him, and a baby resting in his giant hands.

Engineer

Also another good one!

Doesn’t have much experience with REAL babies, just his mechanical babies, but he’s sure he can watch her for ya!

Don’t worry about a thing, buttercup, he’s got everything under control

Turns out, he kinda did?

In the time you were gone, he built her a rocking crib

Plus an automatic diaper changer

He’s just a little to busy with machines to be worrying about diapers

Relax though! If the baby cries, he’s putting down everything to figure out what’s wrong and how to solve the problem

Minus the guns in the equation

Medic

Well, uhm..

He’s not a bad baby-watcher!

He will keep that little rascal in his sights at all times! No doubt about it!

He could stare at that baby all day!

Best babywatcher in the world!

But…

This is Medic we’re talking about…

There’s no way this baby is coming back the same baby..

Sniper

Not.. sure what to do?

He’s a bit of a recluse, so he doesn’t hang around people that much

That also translates to him not really being able to understand what to do when given a baby and told to watch her

You know that TikTok audio?

“Your mom told me to watch you, but.. you don’t do anything.”

That’s him.

He takes “watch her” seriously

Now granted, Mick will let her play with his fingers occasionally but is really just staring at a baby in his lap for 2 hours straight and freaking out every time she cries or soils a diaper

Spy

Spy is a neglectful dad

We see that with Scout, so it’s no big surprise there

However, he’s not horrible with kids

He can take care of a baby just fine, change her diapers, feed her, burp her, lull her to sleep and the like

He just won’t be very enthusiastic about it!

If you want your baby to have a good time, pick Scout or Engineer

But if you want someone who actually has some idea what they’re doing, get Heavy or Spy for the job, okay?

[apompkwrites]

the ashengrotto's friend || azul ashengrotto

masterlist characters: azul (platonic), ocs :D genre: fluff (just a regular lore part) contains: very quick chapter to establish something, azul's dad (mentioned once), oc introduction (can't wait to talk about them more :D) summary: a single spell can lead to a new adventure. notes: oh wow hi again I'm not dead :). um just fell out of writing for a good while but guess who's starting their second college term in like 3 weeks :D wooo. anyway, just a quick chapter so I can introduce someone :)) parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

the voice was soft and airy, akin to your brother's when he was first waking up in the morning or your mother's when she wasn't in her work mode (which was very rare at this point). when you looked up, you were greeted with another cecaelia.

their skin was dark, almost pitch black. their tentacles had bright blue tips that seemed to glow in the water. however, as opposed to your tentacles, theirs were connected with thin webbing. their hair was a rusty red color, their curls bobbing in the water and covering their right eye. the one eye you could see was crystal blue, wide and full of curiosity just like your brother. two fins stuck out from their curls, drooping a bit to their sea floor.

"how'd you do that?" they repeated, pointing at the water that swirled in towards the paper.

you couldn't say anything at first. be it because you were afraid of interaction or because you genuinely had no idea what you just did, you weren't sure. but, no matter the cause, your silence seemed to only stoke the flames of the cecaelia's curiosity.

"i've never seen magic like that..." they muttered, drifting down to the seafloor in front of you. they settled down, their tentacles resting on the sand. "what was it?"

"um..." you managed to utter, your hand shakily reaching out to grab your pen. "i-i don't... um..."

"can you do it again?" they asked, seemingly unphased by your stammering. they stared at you, their single blue eye that you could see wide with amazement. "please?"

you could only nod and grab another spare piece of paper. you flipped it over, brushing it off as a simple contract draft your mother had written in her spare time, and began scribbling on the paper again. you made the same sigil, an s surrounded by arrows and a single, large circle.

immediately, the same reaction occurred. a vortex formed, swirling about and dragging the water and seaweed closer to the paper. the cecaelia beamed from fin to fin, clapping their hands excitedly like a child.

"your magic is so cool!" they cheered, their eye seemingly sparkling as they stared at you.

"th...thank you..." you mutter under your breath. the cecaelia smiled softly at you, finally noticing your nervousness.

"i'm hemming." they introduced, holding out their hand. "it's nice to meet you!"

"...(name)." you whispered, slowly and shakily taking their hand in yours. "nice to... meet you, too..."

hemming was nice. and curious. you liked that about them. with your brother slowly drifting away from you in favor of his magical studies and the tweels, hemming somehow filled his place in your heart. they reminded you of azul with their wide-eyed fascination for all things in the world.

hemming's visits motivated you to work harder, as well. it seems both you and azul got your hard-working diligence from your mother. each time hemming swam their way over to you, you would have a new sigil to show them. and, no matter how small and mundane the spell was, hemming rewarded you with amazed cheers and genuine cries of awe.

however, you did wonder where exactly hemming came from. you had seen plenty of merpeople come and go, but you never knew where they went when the time for two to part came.

"hemming." you called to them one day. "where do you live? is it far?"

"mm, a bit..." hemming hummed, their voice trailing off near the end. "...promise you won't freak out?"

"i promise."

hemming paused once more. they were nervous, maybe just as nervous as you were when you first met them. they took a quick glance around as if making sure no one was listening.

they looked back at you.

then took one more glance around.

"...the abyss." hemming whispers. the moment that name leaves their lips, a chill runs down through your tentacles.

your mother had only mentioned the abyss once. it was where your father would move to once the divorce was finalized.

hemming fidgeted under your gaze. and the longer you stared, the more they trembled.

"i'm sorry... i... i'll go--"

"no!" you don't know what compelled you to cry out or to grab their wrist. but you did. and hemming stared back at you with wide eyes. and the next words that fell from your lips shocked you more than they did hemming.

"can i visit?"

hemming swam home that night pleasantly surprised. they had tried to make friends before, but never once did they find one that was willing to go to the abyss. they were certain that the moment the question of where they lived came up, they were bound to lose a friend again.

but not this time.

and so, as they swam home, their thoughts had a single cecaelia floating about. a single, magical cecaelia.

"hemming?" ah, they hadn't realized they were home already.

their brother stood above them, towering over them as he always did. his thin and frail-looking tentacles floated beneath him, dragging across the endless floor of black. their hair fell in front of their face in long strands, framing their frail face.

"what's got your head in the seas today?" his brother asked quietly.

"oh, nothing." hemming grinned. "i just... made a really good friend."

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @bajifairyy @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @munchkinkazooie @venusdandy

[take-taker-taken]

could i please have comfort fluff with a quiet, shy reader who cries sometimes from feeling ugly and like no one likes or cares about her with 1997 lord of darkness taker? she doesn't want to bother him with her troubles but he wants to hear her

maybe a bit erotic too..

Ok, so whenever I try to write Ministry!Taker, what comes out is a Lord of the Manor type. I find it hard to write him within a wrestling universe due to the nature of the character, so it always ends being in an AU with an air of magic powers and mysticism - I hope that’s OK! I also didn’t quite get there with the eroticism, so I’m sorry about that - just felt that if I’d tried to add it then it would have seemed shoe-horned in and rushed.

Obsidian & Lilium

You didn’t realise that you could be heard. You thought you’d found a quiet spot when the sadness overtook you and so when the door to the under stairs cupboard opens you squeak in shock.

“Now, what do we have here?” The deep voice rumbles and then his head and shoulders appear in the now open doorway.

Your eyes go wide and your throat freezes up when you realise that it’s the master of the house. Unable to respond in the moment you hurriedly wipe a hand over your face.

“Out you come, girl.” His tone is gentle but firm and then he steps back, allowing you room to slink out of your hiding place. You stand before the giant of a man, the head of the Ministry of Darkness himself - the one known as The Undertaker, and try desperately to stop crying.

He steps away briefly as your tears reduce to sniffles and you notice that he’s at the sink. He turns back and presents you with a cool, damp cloth which you take and wipe over your face. You remain in stunned silence as he takes your hand and leads you to the table, taking a seat and indicating that you should do the same.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me why you’re crying?”

You lift the cloth to your mouth and try not to get overwhelmed. The very idea that the Lord of Darkness is here with you ‘below stairs’ is enough to send you reeling, never mind that he’s talking to you as well.

You shake your head and mumble behind the cloth, “It doesn’t matter.”

His expression remains neutral but he reaches out and plucks the material from your hand, dropping it to the table. You glance up at him guiltily, realising that you should be showing more respect and add, “It’s nothing, sir.”

He taps his long, pale fingers gently against the table top. “Enough to have a member of my ministry hiding away in a cupboard and crying. I should say that matters.”

You stare at the digits in fascination, seeing for the first time how many of them are bent as though they’ve perhaps been broken. You notice the faint freckles that pepper the back of his hands and his short, neat nails. You’ve never been this close to him and find it surprising that you don’t feel particularly scared.

“Something has upset you,” he continues. “Has anybody spoken unkindly to you?”

You look up at him and a sigh escapes before you can stop it. He doesn’t react beyond a twitch of that pierced eyebrow and so you elaborate. “Nobody speaks to me, sir. Why would they?”

“I cannot imagine why they wouldn’t, little one.”

Your eyes raise to him in surprise at the mild endearment and he nods encouragingly. You pick up the cloth again and dab at your eyes but then shake your head as you say quietly, “It’s not important. Please, I - I shouldn’t be taking up your time like this.”

He reaches across and strokes a lazy circle on your hand with one finger. “I get to decide how I spend my time - no one else.”

Your hand seems to tingle at his touch and it’s clear that you’re to keep talking. You concentrate on the pattern he’s drawing on your skin and let the words fall out, even though the reality of it makes your voice crack a bit. “Nobody really likes me, sir. There’s no one to care about me - it’s not as if I’m pretty or anything.”

“Nonsense.” He waits for you to finish but is quick with his simple rebuttal. “I’ve spent only a few moments in your company and I find you perfectly likeable, so why shouldn’t others?” He continues on as you sit in rather stunned silence. “I myself care about each and every member of my ministry, and as to your last point, well…” He stops tracing his finger over your skin and instead takes your hand in his. “You are most definitely a pretty little thing. I expect even nicer without red eyes from all those tears.”

You stare at your joined hands, his covering yours completely and then glance up at him. His expression is inscrutable and you swallow. “It’s very kind of you - too kind, sir - to say that but,”

“I never say things that I do not mean, little one.” His interruption is quiet but firm and then you’re astonished to see that he’s smiling. Not the cruel or sarcastic smirks that you think you’re used to seeing sometimes on the faces of those around you, but a genuine smile - albeit small, but that somehow makes it even more real. Unbidden, you feel yourself returning it. “There, now - such a pretty smile.”

“Thank you,” you reply as you feel yourself blushing. Doubt still nags at you, however, and you say wistfully, “I wish it were true, sir. It seems that being attractive is valued more highly than anything. And that will never be me.”

He stands up without releasing your hand and so you have little choice but to get up with him. “Valued by those without the brains to value much else,” he says. “I would like you to take a walk with me.”

It’s a question and yet not one, given how he presents it with such finality - of course, he is used to being obeyed. You’re not about to try and resist his will, so you nod and with one hand in his and the other clutching the cloth, he leads you from the room.

He takes you up the stairs and through the main house which makes your head swivel around as you take it all in. The next familiar sight you see is the gardens - you love it when you get the opportunity to walk near here, though you’ve never seen it properly. You wish it wasn’t dark and it seems silly to stroll about when it is.

“A walk in the gardens when it’s dark, sir?” You can’t help voicing your doubt and then you squeak and then giggle as he turns his free hand palm up and you see a gentle glow emanating from it. It’s enough to light the way immediately ahead of you and makes you step more confidently.

“Certainly when it’s dark, little one.” There’s that tiny endearment again and it makes your heart swell a little. “Night blooming lilies are quite beautiful.” He leads you down a few more paths and then when you round the next corner you gasp in wonder because there they are - rows of bright, white lilies glowing in the moonlight. There’s a pond too, with yet more wide open flowers sitting atop the inky black surface as water trickles down a stone feature into the pool.

“I’ve never seen anything so pretty,” you whisper, utterly transfixed by the sight before you.

He lets go of your hand and you stiffen slightly as you feel him stroking his fingertips up your back. “I have,” he says softly. “And I’m standing with her at this very moment.”

You turn and look up at him, no longer feeling shy or like a lesser person. “Thank you.”

The statement seems too small but it’s all you can manage for now and you hope it’s enough. It must be, you think to yourself, because then he’s leaning down and brushing his lips against yours. You know and understand in that moment that everything is going to be alright.

END.

[nausikaaa]

Six Sentence Sunday Monday

thanks for tagging me @youarenevertooold @confused-bi-queer @orange-peony @prettygoododds @that-disabled-princess @thewholelemon @artsyunderstudy @bookish-bogwitch @ileadacharmedlife @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire and @j-nipper-95. phew, that's a lot of people!

okay, yes, it's technically tuesday, but i wanted to share and didn't get time to write anything yesterday, but sat down and got out 1600 words tonight, yay!

here's a new POV for my wip, Helenus. ramble under the cut about him because he's very overlooked in most media avoid the Trojan war, and i am incapable of shutting the hell up about my interests once i get going.

but i'll pop the six sentences here for convenience's sake. they're from a flashback to when Astyanax, the main character, was born.

Astyanax came into the world just as the day’s fighting wound to a close, and apparently Andromache pushed aside the midwives and even my mother, and insisted on getting up and taking their son to meet his father, fresh off the battlefield, herself. I saw her shuffle to the gates as they opened, clutching the tiny baby to her chest, half dressed and looking exhausted, but glowing with joy nonetheless. I turned away as Hector cried out and rushed to embrace them both. All the soldiers cheered at the sight, their morale momentarily buoyed by the arrival of the little prince.

Hector actually named him Scamandrius, but all the people swiftly took to calling him Astyanax, lord of the city. They saw him as a symbol of the future, and placed all their hopes in him.

so for those who don't know, and there's no shame in that because it would appear most fans of the Iliad somehow don't, even though he's in the damn thing, Helenus was the twin brother of Cassandra, the Trojan princess and prophetess who was cursed by Apollo to see the future but never be believed after she rejected his advances. as well as being a competent soldier, Helenus was a priest of Apollo who also had the gift of prophecy, but not the curse. sources disagree on whether Cassandra taught him, or if Apollo gave him the gift, but if it was the latter, that begs the question: did Apollo make Helenus the same offer he made Cassandra? and did he accept it?

that's something i explore in depth, relationships with gods are rarely simple or healthy. Apollo has a bit of a micromanagement problem, and once he starts to grow bored with Helenus, his idea of a reward for all his years of dedication is to manipulate him into setting himself up for Apollo's idea of his perfect life, with no regard for the people his plan hurts along the way or Helenus's own wants.

and so, by the end of the story, he is actually married to both Andromache, his brother Hector's widow, and Deidamia, Achilles's widow, and rules over Epirus, a city in the far north of Greece. how does he feel about this, the destruction of his family and home, and death of his foster son Pyrrhus, that led him there? Apollo doesn't think to ask. he declares his work done and promptly loses interest, and Helenus just has to try his best to make it work, doing right by his wives and turning Epirus into a second Troy.

i love the way it's put by Aeneas in Virgil, "you have before your eyes an image of the river Xanthus and a Troy made by your own hands, more fortunate, I pray, than the Troy that was... We shall in some future age unite our cities and the people of Hesperia and Epirus, for we are kith and kin, the same Dardanus is our founder and the same destiny attends us. We shall make them both one Troy in spirit." Hesperia is that probably insignificant little place which would eventually come to be known as Rome. don't worry about it. they'll totally be friends. Rome definitely won't wreck Epirus in the Pyrrhic War in a thousand years or so.

also, fun fact, Alexander the Great's mother Olympias was from Epirus, and claimed to be descended from Andromache, Helen of Troy, and either Achilles or Helenus, depending on the source. sure, Olympias.

oh, and tags, i guess for wednesday at this rate! i hope you all have a lovely rest the week! @forabeatofadrum @artsyunderstudy @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @martsonmars @meanjeansjeans @harrie-leithillustration @spoonerwrites @ic3-que3n @larkral @blackberrysummerblog @shrekgogurt @comesitintheclover @raenestee @noblecorgi @shemakesmeforget @ileadacharmedlife @supercutedinosaurs @carryonmylovelies @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @otherworldsivelivedin and @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists