#and it’s tender and it’s bittersweet

[mycological-mariner]

Big fan of character dynamics where character A has lived as much life as they’re able and can contain no more while character B still has so much left life left to burn through and they meet in the middle, one life coming to and end while the other is just beginning. A death (spiritual or physical) and a birth. Falling into the same old routine, carving new paths.

[pinacoladamatata]

feeling totally fine btw. no goodbye battle kisses these are only come back to me kisses and post battle kisses

[rikkivoid]

winter kiss

[veilkeeper]

"which do you prefer, pre or post amnesia durgetash" actually i prefer the haunting image of both side by side as perfect mirrors, because nothing has changed even though everything has. in case you were wondering.

[serene-cinders]

A Caretaker adopting a pet Whumpee from a shelter out of pity. Whumpee’s been abused. Maybe they can’t, or won’t speak, so their pain is a mystery, but it shows in their empty eyes, maimed form, scars running criss-cross all over.

Maybe Whumpee’s on the older side. Maybe they’re not conventionally attractive. They’ve been abandoned by the world, they’ve been at the shelter for years, and they’re slowly succumbing. Dying.

Caretaker never agreed with this ‘human pet’ business. They find it despicable, and wouldn’t support it. But… that wretched husk, so rigorously broken down, brings tears to their eyes. And they can’t bare the thought of somebody dying alone in this unfeeling, underfunded shit hole.

So, Caretaker makes the choice to give them the kindest few weeks of their life.

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

okay back to wallowing

[h-f-k]

i feel like halsey adding ender's voice to a lot of these songs makes this album less painful and it changed the way i see the it as well. yes, it's a very VERY sad, honest and raw album and when you know the full picture it gets even worse lmao but ender adds an innocence, a beautiful tenderness to this story and it feels like tiny warm hugs scattered across this painful experience halsey takes us in with them. (it also makes letter to god (1998) even more painful lol but we're not gonna talk about that lol)

[sotc]

i can't stop thinking about papa cyrion fretting over his bbgirl milana after she takes care of the unrest at the alienage🥺 cyrion telling her to hush if she tries to leave too soon, telling her sit down and eat and extending the invitation to serve a warm meal for her companions. it's the first thing on his mind after being kept prisoner and all the months she's been gone. all that wondering, praying, hoping for his daughter to be okay, to come back, if she was even alive.

soris and shianni lending a hand to cook and get to know the companions she's been traveling with. they share silly stories of milana growing up to tease her in front of her new friends, laughter is in the air. alistair being so, so polite at a table he's just a little too big for. zevran at the table watching his warden closely with a secret, amused smile (meeting the family now are we?) morrigan declining the offer but keeping her distance by the fire to watch and listen from afar. milana could almost feel awkward but the moment she tastes her favorite broth she starts bawling at the table i am so serious LOL😭 she missed her family sm!!!

but i also just can't help but think about how the companions must feel seeing the warden have a family and home to miss and they.. kinda didn't, did they? alistair wanted family so bad with his half-sister goldanna, wanted this familial moment sharing homecooked meals and stories so much it's a literal fantasy he found comfort in when trapped in the fade! zev spent his whole life forced to bury sentiments like family, belonging and love and i have to wonder if he felt like he was on the outside looking in seeing milana with her family, even for just a moment of something he could've had-- could have? and god MORRIGAN with all the nuances and complexities of a relationship she had with her own mother and the resentment she harbored growing up under her like ough. ):

maybe just maybe it's the first time they catch a glimpse to what having a real home and family looks like.

[maeevel]

Testing the waters with this project. Just a lil' snippet of it:

"I'm not mourning, son," Apollo decides to say. He stops playing his lyre and looks at Will intently. His son looks too much like him at times. Too little like Naomi. Perhaps that is why Apollo made him immortal all these years ago. "I've had ... a vision."

Will contemplates his words. Prophecy is not something Apollo has given on to him, and he often has little patience for the riddles of Oracles and premonitions. "What did you see?"

"A mortal." Apollo hesitates for a second. He doesn't want to understand it, even as he does. "A stranger. A girl."

"Someone you know?"

"Not at all."

Will's frown deepens. A flash of regret passes through his eyes as he says, hesitantly, carefully, "Maybe you should just ... ignore it, Dad. Let it pass. Visions come and go as they like, you've said so yourself once."

Something squeezes around Apollo's heart. He knows the core of Will's concern. When Apollo sees someone he doesn't know in his visions, someone who has probably not been born yet, it usually implies someone of importance will come his way. Someone of importance to him.

It could be an enemy. Or a companion of sorts, a friend. It could also be a lover.

Someone he could grow to have deep feelings for. Someone whose life string the Fates decided to attach to his divinity.

And that just ... it opens too many wounds, tears into too many scars that scream of laurel and hyacinth, reveals too many fears and wishes and sorrows.

"Maybe," Apollo agrees, even as his heart grows a tender hope. "Maybe."

[blujayonthewing]

last summer after going to my childhood home for the very last time I came home and ordered a single-note honeysuckle perfume in a fit of... I don't know exactly. Big Feelings. and the PROBLEM is that it smells extremely nice, and it pairs really well with 'Fireflies', which is a blend meant to invoke being outdoors on a summer evening, but I can't actually wear them because it is also, essentially, Potion Of Extremely Specific Psychic Damage

[kookjinnies]

jimin’s youth tattoo 🥹

[sprachgitter]

i quite like it when fictional lovers are said to be fated to love and destined to meet every intra- and extra-diegetic step of the way and then someone decides they will brook no more of this nonsense for the lovers choose to love over and over and it was a universe of no one but them and a while later someone else puts their foot down to say but the presiding omnipotent deity of that said universe was personally involved and invested in their coming together and we keep going over this profound and stupid paradox over and over mmmmm do quite like that

[itstimeforstarwars]

Six sentence Sunday, from one of the later galidraan fics:

~

“Hey, if a psychometric and an oracle kiss, do you think we’d finally understand what it means to focus on the present?” Quinlan asked, only half-joking.

Ben gave him an achingly familiar side-eye, one he’d seen so many times from his twin. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, Quin,” he said.

“Yeah...” Quinlan said softly, reaching out to cup Ben’s cheek, so they could actually look each other in the eye. “If that’s the dumbest thing you’ve heard from me, then clearly we don’t hang out enough.”

[felrend]

“My love”

[rosesocietyy]

the first iwtv show fic I read that rewired my dna was a danlou fic so yeah, I haven't been normal since

[sapphic-sasuke]

snippet from my new hashimada oneshot ‘in their dreams they sleep with the moon.’

“Are you challenging me, Hashirama?” Madara bellows, Rinnegan expanding and face twisting into a sneer. “You dare challenge me? I possess power so great I could split this earth into two with my strongest attack.”

From afar, Hashirama’s form flickers, and Madara hesitates, because while his soul is an empty husk, no longer bleeding out for anyone except ghosts, he can still feel that pure, overbearing pressure of Hashirama’s chakra. He’s real.

Hashirama denies him the violence he craves. “I don’t want us to fight again. That’s enough.”

Madara has not fought anyone since the world has come to a standstill, in its process of rebirth. To him, fights are what makes him come to life, heart blazing like his most powerful fire jutsu, decimating all that is in front of him. Only Hashirama sparks that primal delight deep in his gut, gives him back just as strong and never falters.

Hashirama never denies him if he pushes hard enough.

So why now?

“I’ll make you fight me!” he decides, charging forward with an attack at the ready. He uses a fire jutsu that Hashirama easily dodges, and he deflects the barrage of shuriken with mokuton that have a life of its own, wood at the ready to shield him at all costs.

“What will fighting do now?” Hashirama asks, a tone he’s never heard before seeping into his voice. It sounds anguished, stranded and weak. “I’ve been fighting my whole life. Everything is over now. Can’t we sit and reminisce together like old friends? That’s all I want, Madara. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Madara’s mouth parts and closes, tense and strung. He lets go of the hand signs at the ready and his eerie ringed eyes focus on Hashirama’s form. He looks tired and incorporeal, like he would be shimmering and flickering at his peripheral. He is not grand and divine anymore, like that figure Madara would gladly worship and laud for all his existence.

The sight angers him. This is not who Hashirama is to him, a weak fool who only wants companionship at the end of the world, a man who too seeks the end of human suffering like him, but unlike Madara has failed terribly, and is witnessing the consequences of such failure: beings suspended in tiny universes of their own, all the wirings and neurons in their brain under an illusion so strong it breaks the constraints of dimensions.

“You will fight me,” Madara decides. Hashirama’s face twists, and he ignores it. “In order to undo Infinite Tsukiyomi, you have to fight me. Isn’t that right? But you haven’t yet taken the chance to do so. Perhaps you are waiting for me to grow weaker as the years pass, but that will never happen. Like the sun and like that red moon, I am eternal. The only way to free this world and emerge victorious is to fight me.”

They are on opposing sides. Madara is not controlling the kyuubi this time. It is only them. They alone exist and matter. Nobody else does. Madara feels the first vestiges of euphoria awaken from its deep slumber.

“Will you dance with me, Hashirama?”

Hashirama presses his hands together, and this prayer seems more desperate than the rest. Wood emerges from underneath the shallow waters and begins striking outwards towards him.

“If that is what will appease you.”