#emotionally distant

[angel-on-the-cutting-room-floor]

[otakubimbo]

Hey! Can I request for an angst romance with the very first sentence prompt with Satoru? They break up but Satoru refuses to believe that it actually happened and that it was only a joke. Like, he is in denial about it.

Hi anon! You're my first official request so thank you! I hope I did this prompt justice for you. My heart hurts.

angsty romance prompt. "tell me it was a lie, tell me you're playing with me right now "

Warnings: None really, just angst and no happy ending, which yes is so unlike me but we ball! I didn't proof read cause it made me sad writing it.

“Tell me it was a lie. Tell me you’re playing with me right now!” Satoru’s voice was at a higher level than it should being at this café. The people around pretending not to be easy dropping on the conversation that you and the man across form you were having.

master list

“Lower your voice, people are staring.” The hushed tone of your voice, attempting to not betray the facade you were putting on.  This wasn’t easy for you, breaking up with Satoru Gojo, if anything you were breaking your own heart.

“How do you expect me to react when my girlfriend brought me out to lunch to break up with me?!” His tone is harsh, in a way you have never heard before. You flinch at his abrasiveness, making him shrink back into his chair.

Satoru’s anger and disbelief confuse you. It was as if everyone saw the signs of this impending breakup but him. The relationship had been going downhill for some time now, how could he not see that? How could he not see what he was doing? How couldn’t he see what it was doing to you?

After a year and a half of dating, you told him, you told him you loved him and you meant it with every fiber of your soul. It had been six more months since then and he never said it back. You were understanding at first when he didn’t say it back, albeit hurt a little but you knew at least a little of his past and what he has gone through. You could understand that it may be hard for him to tell you he loved you, you knew he loved you because of the way he cared for you and that was enough.

Well, you thought it was enough. After your confession, Satoru didn’t immediately become distant, but it started with small things. He stopped texting you good morning and would only say good night. The small touches, the holding hands, and the comforting hugs became few and far between. Any time you brought it up, he would play it off like nothing was wrong, everything was fine. Then it became as if the two of you were barely even friends, it seemed he was always busy as if he never had time for you anymore. And it hurt, it hurt like hell and even then you kept pushing it off just hoping he would tell you what was going on behind those piercing blue eyes of his but he never did.

That’s what lead to today, the day of your 2 year anniversary. Truthfully, you hadn’t even planned on breaking up with him today but when you sat across from him in the same café that you had your first date at, his eyes never met yours. He didn’t hold your hand across the table, he didn’t kiss your forehead on his arrival, he wasn’t your Satoru.

You could feel the tears threatening to spill as you looked up at him, “Do you know what today is? Or why I asked you here”

His jaw tightened, “It’s Tuesday and I don’t know maybe because I’m your boyfriend and we go to this café a lot.”

Is this all a joke to you? Was he just a joke to you? He knows he hasn’t been the best boyfriend lately and that he’s been a bit distant but that wouldn’t make you break up with him. Would it? You were too kind, too patient, too pure for that, right?

“This is the café that we went to on our first date, two years ago.” You aren’t even facing him anymore when you say that, just reminiscing on a time when it felt as if you were just two kids in love. Satoru froze, not even realizing that he had forgotten. He had been trying so hard to keep you at an arm’s length after your confession that he had seemed to just push you away.  He didn’t even say anything as you turned to him, tears threatening to spill down your beautiful face at any single moment. What had he done?

“Do you even love me, Satoru?”

The question hung in the air, making his mouth go dry. He did, he loved you more than he should and that was the problem. His love for you scared him, you scared him. You didn’t know the power that you held over him; you made him weak. You were his weakness. But he was the strongest, he couldn’t afford a weakness, but he wasn’t strong enough to let you go either. Now here he was, unable to speak the words that have been written into his heart from the moment he saw you.

With a sad smile, you take his silence as your answer gathering your things and leaving you there. His heart shattered as he watched you leave out of the door, fading from his vision. Satoru’s worst fear came true, the strongest was defeated, the strongest was broken by you and it was all his own fault.

[misscaiacreates]

Avoidantly Attached: The Silent Struggle

I love you. I do. I'm just scared.

My eyes say "stay," but my heart's ensnared.

By shadows of a past that still whisper, "flee."

Your touch is a warmth I can't let be.

You call me your soulmate, but I can't take that now,

I need to heal, to cleanse, to figure out how.

To be the person you deserve, strong and whole,

Before we can truly join soul to soul.

Babe, I crave you, believe me, it's true,

But trauma's a wall that I've got to break through.

Flight mode's my default, my safety, my shield,

But for you, babe, I'm striving to heal.

Patience, my love, for the time that I need,

To untangle the chains of past sorrow and greed.

I'll run from our closeness, it's sad but it's true,

Yet know, in my heart, I'm running to you.

[senandikadini]

They are the same person in my book

[grungasgirlexistence]

I don’t feel happy but I don’t feel sad. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? Am i supposed to feel like I’m on the verge of any emotion but not quite there? I guess I have to take them so I don’t really have a choice how it feels.

[xtrablak674]

Child Rearing

[Originally published on Livejournal July 18, 2002 at 07:45am, mildly edited for clarity]

Raising a child is not always about what you say, its in what you do. I think adults today are told what their childhood should or shouldn't have and don't realize the real blessings that were there.

My personal struggles with accepting aspects of my childhood had to do with trying very hard to see the "positive" things and not to dwell on the negative things, which I think is more human nature, we will always talk about what we didnt have and how fucked up we are because of it.

There were two main parts of childhood development for me, there was the time I spent with my mother and her raising me, and there was the time I spent, with my grandmother and her completion of raising me.

My mother dying at such a young age, has allowed me to crystallize the memories I have of her and thus place her on a very unrealistic pedestal of goddess-like behavior, which I know is ridiculous, but they are my memories, why shouldn't they be pleasant :)

My grandmother on the other end I had great struggles with and the fact that she raised me after alot of my identity was already formed, we had big struggles over who was running my life, spiritual and otherwise. Her issues with my sexuality blossoming only added fuel to this fire.

It took me a very long time to see that I held alot of resentment towards my grandmother for NOT being my mother, and she had issues seeing me as my own person and NOT my father. She struggled with wanting to do better with me then she felt that she had with my father, who didn't really seem to make much of himself, her disappointments there led her to greater lengths with me to make sure I would be "successful" in her eyes.

It took me a VERY long time to see that with "parenting" there is no guide that comes with the child, and that each "parent" struggles with the way that they were bought up to try to do different and better for their child. I know I am making a huge generalization here, and being more then gracious, because we know not all parents are this way.

When I thought about the struggle between me and my grandmother, I saw that she was doing the best that she could. She may not have been a cuddling, doting, cookie baking grandmother, but what she DID DO for me, is what meant alot, and THAT was her way of showing her love for me.

My grandmother got the dishonor of basically raising me thru the terrible teens which is a very difficult time for any parent, esp when dealing with raising your child's child, and dealing with the death of that child's parent. So my grandmother was not handed an easy task, by any means, as I said previously, I had developed alot of the basis of my personality by the time I was in her house, and I was VERY much my own person. I never had to deal with someone trying to control me, which was very new to me, i also had to deal with defining myself in a new environment, very unlike the one i was raised in.

After years in my adult life of struggling with my grandmother, I came to the awareness that she did do the best that she did, when i stopped focusing on my anger, and let myself self see her deeds, is when I realized, what a blessed existence she was trying to provide for me.

I travelled the world more extensively then anyone I knew by the age of 12. She enrolled me in a private school (that I rebelliously got kicked out of). She got me into a summer prep school program at a very prestigious private school. When I showed interest and talent in dancing, she enrolled me at Dance Theatre of Harlem, and drove me to my classes and picked me up. She did her best to purchase modern fashion from me at discount prices at the Macy's Discount Outlet. She tried to save my eternal soul thru constant church going (i am going to hell, directly) She nurtured my interest in singing (in the choir). She supported my pursing a career in acting and auditioning (if I pulled my grades up in Spanish, which I didn't). She tried to instill in me a sense of financial responsibility, thru buying me my first mountain bike and making me pay for it, thru my weekly allowance for over a year.

Now there were negative points also. I never felt she was as affectionate as I would have liked she was not like the "Electric Grandmother" from the television movie by any means. Her casual racism was an issue that revealed its self to me in very frustrating ways, but mind you this is a woman born in 1927 and raised in the South... Her religious zealousness, i could have really done without. Her very apparent homophobia, and heterosexism, were not favored with me also. Her trying to make up for what she feel she lacked in raising my father, was a huge constant frustration.

So ultimately what I wanted to say is as I get a glimpse of your childhood, the not so painful aspects, it doesnt seem as bad to me, as it may seem to you. I found that adjusting my expectations of my "parents" helped me alot in letting go of my anger, and allowing me to have some kind of relationship with my grandmother. I know your experience with your parents was of course different. But I think there is some value in the general theme of what I am saying here.

Our experiences make up a huge part of who we are, how much do we really want to change those experiences? And would we like that other person that would result from those changes?

[Afterwords: Well damn, I thought I wasn't going to respond to this well written and thought out piece from my twenty-something self. But then the second paragraph from the end it seemed I was directing this message to someone. I don't know who that someone is. I don't think my nephew MJ would have been quite old enough and wasting these kinds of words on my very clueless former siblings seems like a lesson in futility.

Its someone who still had both of their parents. I am coming up with nada. What is really nice to see is that I seriously made an attempt to be cool with SB and who she was even though who she was was basically a monster. She may have not been physically abusive but she loved to dabble in psychological abuse and manipulation and her continued misdeeds made a relationship with her untenable. I do love to see that I made a clear attempt and my efforts were thwarted by her continued bad behavior.]

[Photo by Brown Estate]

[everythingimnot]

if I don't get more attention I'm gonna have to make a clown out of myself again and that never works out in my favor

[faiell]

waiting for the dream to end

[otakubimbo]

The Rabbit and The Wolf

Are You Happy Now?

You thought you got your happily ever after?

MDNI. MATURE CONTENT.

Ch 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

master list

yes i am aware that i Perfume: The Story of a Murder my way through the Chunnin exams but like its fine <3

You remembered the smile that you had on your face as you walked back through the gates of the Hidden Leaf, something to you was funny recalling the feeling of the laughter in your chest. The kids get sent off to go home, having been part of a completed mission that they didn’t know was taking place. You and Kakashi giggling back and forth like teenagers as you go to report to the Hokage. The Third Hokages face was plastered in your mind as he interrupted you from giving your mission report, pausing in confusion at the interruption. His words starting with “your sister” and everything else sounding like static in your ears. Your sister. Your sister was dead. The only family you had left was dead. But she was doing so well before she died, the words fell from your lips with an unamused chuckle as you looked over her cold body. She couldn’t be dead; she was making a turn around. She couldn’t be dead.

The next thing you remember is sitting beside her husband, people walking up to the two of you to give their condolences. It was only the two of you, her husband, and her sister. Your eyes dead as you sat there, people saying how much they loved and appreciated your sister. The things she put in motion even while she was hospital ridden had people coming up to give their condolences. She was truly a saint until her last day. Her funeral passing through your eyes just like the time before you got there.

Now you were in your house, there was a knock on your door that you heard but couldn’t move to answer. A voice outside calling for you, the voice sounded concerned, worried even about your health and safety. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t answer the door for the concerned voice. You hadn’t even cried yet. The tears for your sister hadn’t even graced your water line. It was just emptiness at this point. She was the only family you had left and now she was gone. She was gone and you weren’t even there for her final moments. You can remember her husband talking to you, hugging you through the whole ordeal, visiting you even afterwards. The words that he said to you going through one ear and out the other. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to listen, but every sound was silent, it was as if you couldn’t hear anything but the voice in your head saying how she was gone.

You didn’t even know how long it had been. Your hands were placed in front of you, covered in blood. As you look around, you see the bodies, looking down to see yourself in your Anbu uniform. You were on a mission; you were killing but you don’t even remember. You don’t know how you got there; your brain has been on auto pilot for so long. Then it goes out again, the next thing to bring you back was Sasuke standing in front of you, he looked sad, he looked like his brother.

“I’m leaving to get stronger” his words hitting your ears as you just stare at him. You were sitting on your couch; he was in your house. There was no recollection of how he got in there or even how the conversation started but he was telling you that he was leaving. Your brain puts together the pieces, processing all the events that lead to the moment that he was in front of you. The empty shell that you had been, finally responded to something for once was an automatic response.

“Please don’t leave” your voice says in such a small whisper that you thought he didn’t hear you. But he paused at your front door, turning back to you realizing this is one of your few and far between conscious moments.

“I’m sorry.” was the last thing Sasuke said before he left your house.

In all that time, Kakashi was checking on you, of course but you just weren’t there. You were a husk of yourself, and it was as if you weren’t even a real person anymore. The Hokage still sent you on mission even with the concern that Kakashi had about your mental state. Your body moving on autopilot completely missions like the skilled ninja you were. Even as Kakashi worried about you, your only responses were how you were fine. There was nothing wrong with you. You were handling your sister’s passing just fine. There wasn’t anything wrong with how many missions you were taking. There wasn’t an issue with how you were pushing yourself. Your lack of concern for Sasuke didn’t really bother anyone that you knew about. Everything was regular in your mind. There was nothing to worry about. You were fine. You were fine. Yet, Kakashi’s concern for you grew and grew. It was worse than when the situation between the two of you happened. It was even worse than what your father did when your mother died. He could see that you weren’t really eating, he could tell that you weren’t sleeping. All you knew was to complete missions and then get the next one. The issue with Orochimaru and the Akatsuki coming to the forefront taking you away for spy detail that kept your mind off of anything else.

It wasn’t until you came back from a mission, in your mind thinking that everything was good and fine, that you collapsed at the gate. Your body having been through so much with no rest, no nourishment. It was driving on just your willpower and it finally gave out. Two and a half years, you kept going like that for two and a half years and finally your body just gave out. Of course, the intel you received on your mission was imperative, so your hospital room was monitored at all times. You were the Hidden Leaf’s finest, a machine that didn’t need anything but a new mission. Everyone knew that the Third was taking advantage of your grief, but you didn’t allow anyone to stop you. Every intervention brushed off without a second thought. Again, claiming that you were fine with the weight of losing your sister and Sasuke leaving in the back of your mind. You had pushed and pushed and pushed through until your body and mind couldn’t take anymore and you just collapsed.

As you sit in your hospital room, ninja placed outside your door to keep you in, the intel you had already discussed to another Anbu to relay to the Hokage your mind starts to wander on being there. The hospital reminded you of your sister, but you weren’t trying to think of that. The only thing you wanted was to get out of there, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to leave until they cleared you, they would track you down before they let you on another mission without clearance. Your back was turned to the door as you stared out the small window that didn’t hold much of a view. You had decided to just take a nap until you heard a voice.

“You know, you’re more dramatic than your father. But at the very least you’re still here so maybe you can pay me the money he owed me.”

taglist: @smarsd @ferretsqueen @yellowflashof-theleaf

[amilynh]

This is exactly my read on this as well. She didn't say she never wanted or hadn't wanted kids: she DODGED the rest of the question. What she said was entirely true about how she **got Noah**, and it left out all the previous thoughts about, attempts at adopting, becoming a foster parent...she left all that out.

As she does about personal and emotional stuff that feels vulnerable to her.

I don't think Liv saying she wasn't always sure she wanted kids is at odds with what we know about her. It wasn't her saying she never wanted kids, and it meshes with what we do know - that she wanted a family but was afraid of her genetics, afraid she wasn't good enough, that she didn't get serious about having a child until s9 (when she's what like 40? Almost?) and was immediately shut down and by the time Noah turns up she's pretty much entirely given up on that dream and let it go. She's not gonna say all that to these two women she's still just getting to know and who technically work for her; saying she wasn't always sure is a gentle way to express a lifetime of struggle and disappointment and loneliness without making herself too vulnerable. And what does Olivia hate the most? Being vulnerable thank you for coming to my TED talk

[sword-wielding-sapphic]

every other crime fiction author looked at Sherlock Holmes and said "hmm, he never shows any interest in women and he hates small talk, this must be because he is incredibly psychologically disturbed due to some dark backstory. we should make this the standard for detective characters going forward"

my brother in christ, have you considered that maybe he's just gay and autistic?

[specshroom]

I want to smother him.

I want to be clingy and overbearing with him but only in private, like the personal solitude of his room.

I want to cling to him as he lays in bed, trying to do something else like read or play a game.

I want to mold myself into his side, kissing his neck, stroking his chest, rubbing my legs against his.

I want to distract him with my affection. I want him to become flustered at the stark contrast between public and private affection and how he's the only one who knows there is a difference in the first place.

When I tease him about being flustered and he tries to push me away with his hand out of embarrassment, I want to grab it and kiss his fingers all the way down his arm.

I want him to give in despite being embarrassed. I want to kiss all over his face as he huffs in defeat after the rather pathetic attempt at a struggle.

I want to mumble a little "I love you s'much" into his warm cheek as the skin heats up even more at the confession and my lips on his skin.

I want him to have an internal struggle, trying to man up and say it back. Only to weakly mumble out, "Whatever." as he places his hand over his bright red face.

[xtrablak674]

The Breakthrough

[Originally posted on my Blogspot on Wednesday, December 17th at 10:35am, posted without any edits.]

After a long phone call with my Aunt Mary and confirmation with Paul, I have come to a breakthrough about my relationship with my grandmother. I just begin to understand that my grandmother superficially did all the right things as a parental figure, but was severely lacking in intimacy. So lacking that during the seven years I lived with her after my mother died I never felt like her home was my home, but that I was a guest in her house. I don't mean this in a nasty or negative way, this was/is how I truly felt. I never truly felt welcomed there.

So it makes so much sense that even though I know the tasks of being a dutiful grandson, I never felt the inclination toward those duties due to my feeling uncomfortable at my grandparents house. This dynamic primarily centered around my grandmother who dominated the relationship between my grandparents. My grandfather always receding to the background, I have never truly got to know the man.

My Aunt Mary had called to report on my grandfather's health issues and to inquire about the last time I had called my grandparents. I was very candid with her that with my grandmother's past behavior that had really debilitated an already tentative relationship, I didn't feel the need to interact with her other in the most passing polite fashion. I was also clear with my Aunt Mary that calling their house was in essence calling "her" house because if "she" was home even if my grandfather answered the phone he would subsequently hand the phone to her. Something that for years irked me especially if we were in mid-conversation, but I realize that he just defers to her. Which does nothing but keep the distance between me and him, and puts the focus on my interaction with her, which especially after the incident is stilted, tense and uncomfortable.

I let my Aunt Mary know that after I left her house at 17/18 I never looked back, never asked her for any kind of financial support of any sort. I did request the bonds my mother had left me, but that was money from my mother, not her. I explained to my Aunt Mary how deeply hurt I was by her statement around the selling of the land issues when she threatened to "write me out of her will". I was insulted by the gesture, because I have never asked for a dime. I didn't even request to go live with her, that was my mother's wishes. And as soon as I made my own money I never looked back.

I concurred with my Aunt that they are not getting any younger, and I was very disappointed that my grandmother chose the route of rudeness, nastiness and disrespect as opposed to respecting the sacristy of our hard worked on relationship. But she made a choice and I know she is not at the age where she is changing and my Aunt agrees she will never admit to any wrong. I am not a child living in her house. I am an adult and I choose the relationships I will have. If the relationship is not one that is mutually beneficially, I frankly can do with out.

[Photo by Brown Estate]

[asteropewpew]

dearest shooting star 🌠

loving anaxagoras felt similar to the momentary awe whenever you spot a shooting star. that quick, brilliant flash of light streaking across the midnight sky, so vivid and arrogantly defiant against the moon.

i shine brighter than you, it would say to the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating the late night. this shooting star was so bright that it seemingly cut a large swathe across like very definite sword strike, all the while burning up the rest of itself during the end of their cosmic journey. so look only at me.

"Your students looked quite... apoplectic." You look observed, tone filled with knowing amusement as you watched his students amble their way out of his classroom with varying expressions of frustration. Or in some cases, with a look of absolute vengeance. "A lively morning earlier then, yes?"

Anaxagoras doesn't quite chuckle, but the small, involuntary huff as his lips curved slightly in smug glee gives away his current sentiment regarding his students. His form tilted slightly forward as he turned to face you, a pair of vivid seafoam eyes gleaming brightly with all the knowledge and intellect that captivated your attention like a treacherous lure.

It's both fortunate and unfortunate (for your heart), that your own class ends at just around the time that his class ends—with the bell tolling overhead to signal the students to do a self-study session (or exchange shared moments of misery) at numerous amphitheaters or at the central library of the Grove.

"As always, our class ended with another debate."

"About the gods, Professor?"

"Naturally." Given his rather vocal stance as a blasphemer, it was no surprise that his students had seen fit to challenge him to yet another debate. More likely in hopes to humble him rather than commit to any intellectual exchange, you mused. "And as always, they are infuriated whenever I poke out the holes in their arguments."

"Their collective spite would end up with you getting killed one day, you know?" A lie. For as notorious as Anaxagoras had been in criticizing the actions of the Flame-Chase Journey right alongside, his students had somehow decided that he was deserving of their gifts and...other knick knacks that you were most definitely sure were priceless antiques.

Poor Hyacine who's been given more work by the rising mess around his office, no doubt. Although Anaxagoras' new student named Phainon had been mentioned as some sort of precious antique collector and appraiser, which made organizing things much easier, if any.

"If they commit as much dedication to verbally eviscerate me on court trials and debates, they should focus it on their thesis proposals." The sneer in his face made your lips quirk into a smile.

"You should really stop goading your cute little students, Professor Anaxagoras."

He opened his mouth, likely retorting his favorite correction before realization caught his would-be misstep. The small "tch" made your smile widen even as he shot you a warning glare, not missing your clear attempt at throwing him off despite following his numerous insistence regarding the matter with his name. "Telling me how to handle my students now, Professor?"

It should feel criminal how your name comes out of his mouth in a slow, lilting drawl. Almost indulging, if you were to entertain your own fanciful whispers.

"Just a word of advice as a fellow lecturer." But his unimpressed look told you as much about just how convincing your excuse is.

loving anaxagoras felt like loving a shooting star. there is joy in catching that moment of fleeting beauty across the sky, knowing that it would forever be different from any other shooting stars in the world. but like all things, even shooting stars are unforgiving towards their admirers.

they were utterly beautiful in their destruction, the broken fragments carrying with it such a devastating power that perhaps a part of you would break in return; echoing the shatter of a brilliant celestial body with your own hapless heart.

"What did you do?" You rushed to ask, voice trembling ever so slightly as you looked at the ragged exhaustion across Anaxagoras' face.

"Merely created something that puts us in equal standing with the gods." He sounded victorious, as if the price of his triumph wasn't riddled with blood and pain. Anaxagoras looked inappropriately disheveled, clothes rumpled and singed at some of the hems—pale blue hair clinging to his face that was full of grime and sweat and a few cuts here and there. "And I have succeeded in finally making it useable."

There are tremors in his hands, visible ones and you couldn't take your eyes away from the inflamed skin where the bright red of the Philosopher's stone adorned his right hand. Instantly, you feel the impossibly heavy weight of his trust in allowing you inside his personal alchemical laboratory.

There's a myriad of things that you could say to him, and yet all of it would make you nothing more than a hypocrite who allowed the one that you cherished most to completely ruin himself in pursuit of knowledge. All those years that had you faithfully shadowing him in his unquenchable thirst for answers, barely managing to reel him back just in time before he truly hurtled towards the deep end.

All those years of endless exasperation and countless debates as you hurried to catch up to him, all of it cultivated into biting back down a few choices of words directed at his dangerous recklessness. "Really? Treating yourself so poorly while you're in an experimental binge doesn't quite count as a logical course of action."

You hurriedly knelt down beside him as you brought out a roll of fresh bandages from your satchel, and he was mindful enough to not give you much grief as he obediently placed his trembling hands in your hands.

"Am I ever in danger with my own experiments?" His retort made you purse your lips as you carefully started tending to his wounds, a deep frown crossing your face for all that your hands remained gentle in treating his injuries.

The silence that followed, was a little stifled. Even with you, as immersed in your irritation and worries, didn't fail to notice the tension lining over his shoulders.

"This won't be the last." In the end, it was Anaxagoras who broke the silence, sounding a little gruff as he ducked his head to avoid your gaze. "I still need to find the answers to my new questions... far too many thing—"

"Be that as it may," you interrupted his halfhearted reasons with a pointed glare, "you are still expected to teach your own students instead of passing all them off to me every time you get possessed in doing your experiments!"

He tilted his head in consideration, as if only belatedly recalling that he had spent longer in his laboratory than he had expected.

"The brats should know better than compare you with me." The stupid, foolish, heretic scholar with one of the sharpest minds of today, missed your very non-subtle show of concern. Amazing. Truly a mind of the ages indeed. "And besides, you're the only one that wouldn't revise my lesson plan without consulting me first. Or make those impressionable students learn something that they shouldn't waste their time."

"No, I just want to get them off me because I'm tired of grading forty students every week on two different subjects."

"..." The foolish professor didn't even try to object, knowing better than to test your limits.

You also refrained from pointing out that his students have this weird tendency to debate with any professors that even dared to make them stray off his meticulous curriculum, for all that they are keen to put him through the wringer for at least once before they could graduate. "No personal laboratory time for at least a while."

"You can't possibly demand that of me."

The smile on your face dared him to argue any further than this. "I believe Hyacine would appreciate being notified of your... occupational injuries."

There's another beat of silence, but it was a little easier this time. Familiar.

Although your worries still made your chest grow tight, his disgruntled look soothed something within you as he obediently tilted his head up for you to dab at the small cuts and abrasions across his face.

Even more, the victory was sweeter when Anaxagoras eventually grumbled in defeat.

loving anaxagoras felt a little like condemning yourself to watching the fleeting destruction of a shooting star. you, a criminal who was sentenced to chase and watch the one that you loved the most, meet his own end with the most joyous laugh that you've heard from him.

anaxagoras who would completely burn up himself upon reaching the zenith of his journey, content in defying the tranquility of the evening night in a blaze of brilliant light. the false sky, as he had claimed, with eyes sparkling like the simulated constellations in the astronomy laboratory where alchemy fabricates a sky without the threat of aquila's temperamental gaze.

how you wanted, to valiantly preserve that shine without losing the brilliance that belonged to anaxagoras and his endless curiosity. except he was the kind of person who was never meant to be caged, confined and conforming to conventional ideas.

because he was always and foremost, meant to be free.

(and you could only hope that he can come back to you from time to time, if his time permits it; which was a factor that was slowly getting dwindling with each passing day.)

...Perhaps you'd have known it then, that he wouldn't simply just stop at embedding a Philosopher's stone in his right hand. That nothing could truly ever satiate his thirst in finding out the intricacies wrapped around Amphoreus and the ever-enduring Flame-Chase journey.

That he would embody your most favorite celestial body in all its vivid, and gut-wrenching beauty like this.

"Anaxa—are you crazy?!"

You saw him, slumped over the pillars of the central table while the contents in his personal laboratory which looked as if a veritable storm had swept upon it. Potions and vials lay shattered all over the ground, his alchemical gun lying innocuously beside him while numerous papers full of almost unrecognizable scrawls were scattered on the floor.

For a brief, frightening moment, you feared the worst.

"My name...is Anaxa...goras," he rasped after a moment, lone eye a little dull and unfocused as he struggled to recollect his thoughts when you rushed over to him. "Do not...call me Anaxa."

"And very soon, those words will be your last words if you don't get to the Courtyard as fast you can!" Panic was laced in your voice as you tried to check whether he had any debilitating injuries that require a mad dash to the Courtyard.

(Thin. He's thinner again.)

"This is a...culmination of my life's research and a milestone...regarding my capabilities," he argued, wheezing as he bared his teeth in an attempt to hide his pain when he tried to shift his position as you carefully prodded at his form.

"Which would be utterly useless if you don't make a patent of it while you're still alive," you snapped, finally letting out a breath when your preliminary search yielded nothing but a couple of bruises and symptoms of dehydration alongside exhaustion. "Have you truly decided to throw your life away like the foolish blasphemer that you are?"

Ever since he came back from that one conversation with Empedocles after he'd lost his eye, you know that he was a little different.

Sharper perhaps, much more intense as he had been before. Yet he looked perpetually weary, for all that his back stood tall and unwavering while handing out criticisms and advice for his students and fellow scholars.

As if he was always desperately running towards something that remained just out of reach.

"Why...do you care anyway? You're always so...meddlesome." The question made your heart grow still. It felt like being in the middle of Aidonia's harshest snowstorm, the wind howling at your foolishness for daring to even hope. "Don't you understand...why I must...do this?"

He is so thoughtlessly cruel at times, your dearest shooting star.

"I can't accept that what you're doing is so important that you would throw away your entire life for it." You didn't beg, but all of your emotions saturated each and every word. "Please, just take a break, Anaxagoras. There is time. You have time."

"Nothing is more important than seeing the Truth...of the false sky." His voice was hoarse, yet unwavering with the weight of his own conviction and obsessive desire. "And proving that...the Flame-Chase journey is not so linear in its approach. Everything else...was just an afterthought."

"Perhaps I had thought too highly of our time spent together." It hurt, when you could sense nothing but the genuine truth laced in his words. He's definitely suffered some sort of altered mental status right now, but it did little to lessen the sting. "And that my effort towards a dear colleague and companion, was nothing more than a show of charity in your eyes."

Anaxagoras didn't speak, nor did he even need to, as he had finally passed out in abject exhaustion and pain-filled sleep.

(Perhaps it was the best, that he couldn't hear the bitter disappointment in your voice.)

You allowed yourself a look, a last glance, feeling like you've swallowed knives with each indication of self-neglect over his form. His clothes were bigger than it should be on him, not to the point of fright but enough just to indicate how much he's foregone sustenance at least multiple times. Likewise, there's a clear expression of exhaustion in his face. His clothes were disheveled, likely from his latest stunt more than an unconscious habit—but he looked utterly... small in that moment.

It would be easy to hate him. To rage and hate his foolishness, the ease in how he discarded his own present in favor of crafting a future that he had decided that was not his to see. The sheer hypocrisy by how passionate he was in insisting the sanctity of life and autonomy over "misguided notions" of honor and obligation, when each of his choices had contributed to his eventual ruin.

But you couldn't.

Despite all your frustrations and concerns, you never would be able to hate him for as much as you cherish him.

You know you were not so important as to be able to anchor his feet, but you can't help but wish you were.

loving anaxa meant suffering from daring to attempt that you could handle the intensity of a shooting star. it's like being a moth drawn to his vibrant flame, helplessly oblivious to the eventual agony of being burned alive.

you loved still loved your shooting star who had captivated your attention so tightly, before he spirited your heart away from your hands without any intention of returning it. nor even trying to take care of it.

anaxagoras was a great many things, but he was also utterly oblivious at the best of times. you should have created a boundary with him early on, to rein in your feelings as soon as your traitorous heart thundered at the sight of his bright, satisfied smile.

(but you didn't. and equally hurt and filled you with humility for every time you could see a part of anaxa that perhaps few or rather, none had ever been privy to see it.)

your blasphemer was always meant for great things, regardless if he would be scorned or admired for his actions.

and you could only watch and try to help him when he has burned himself too early in his journey towards searching for the truth of this world.

the astronomy laboratory was one of your favorite ventures, and you keep to your silence even as the door opened to welcome the familiar clack of footsteps coming towards the center of the laboratory.

"...I didn't know that there's someone using the astronomy laboratory."

"It's occupied." your voice was clipped, sparing only the barest words as you didn't bother to turn around and acknowledge the illustrious anaxagoras. there was a brief pause, before you heard a rustling sound as he carefully sat down beside you.

ever since that day, when you had rushed anaxagoras into the courtyard after he had collapsed, you decided to keep your distance. a futile attempt at drawing a boundary when you've already reached a point in no return, but you held strong even when hyacine had cautiously asked if you would like to visit him even just once.

it was more for your sake than his, and you were confident that he wouldn't even notice—for all that he's dedicated his focus and attention to his dogged pursuit of the truth.

"You weren't present to the general meeting with all the Professors." it took everything in you not to flinch when you felt the weight of his gaze on the side of your face.

"I was busy." you were very much grateful that the darkness hid much of your expression as you drew your knees close to yourself.

"Busy with what?" he probed, because he never did have a sense of self-restraint when it comes to satiating his curiosity. "Hyacine told me that you asked to be relieved of another class to handle. And that you also applied for a...sabbatical leave."

the latter sentence echoed his mystified confusion, the notion of a vacation apparently being a foreign one to the foolish scholar.

"I'm accompanying Hyacine and Phainon on their usual visit back to Okhema." there, that should be enough to get him off your back and leave.

except it doesn't.

"You've never shown any interest in leaving the Grove for that holy city." it was evident how poorly he had regarded the capital with the eternal light, and you've heard his sentiments regarding a certain chrysos heir residing in the city often enough to understand his position.

but you didn't care much for that.

what pricked at your still smarting heart was—

"I don't need to report to you nor justify any of my actions to you for anything, Professor Anaxagoras." you replied, voice chillingly cold and void of your hurt as much as you can. "As you have made yourself quite clear on my interference to your pursuit of knowledge."

There was another pause, the fabric of his coat rustling as he abruptly moved closer to you.

"That day when you rushed me into the courtyard," his voice was faintly urgent, promptly you to finally give a glance at his pinched expression with a carefully distant look. except the faint unease within his piercing eyes made your traitorous heart flutter once again. "Did I say anything?"

this close, you could see that hyacine's work had lessened the exhaustion and overall gauntness of the scholar's face. despite you still childishly holding on to your anger, you felt a tension within you finally relax.

"Nothing but the truth, Professor." it was maddening, how your anger was quietly doused by seeing just how much he had recovered (even if you could still sense an air of weariness around him).

"That's not—" anaxagoras tsked, ever astute in deducing a hint from your response. "I said something."

you kept silent, because you refuse to be considered a puzzle where he would look for clues to satisfy his own questions. no, it would hurt you far too much if he treated what had happened as nothing more than a logical problem to be straightened out.

(it would be like holding out your still mending heart for him to destroy.)

"Whatever it was, it was enough for you to refuse a visit to me at the ward." the intensity in his gaze proved too much, and you ducked your head to look away from him. you saw his hand make an aborted move towards you, before it stopped and curled into a tight fist. "It happened when you caught me in my personal laboratory, and I was cognizant enough to respond but not enough to retain the memories of our brief interaction before you brought me to the Courtyard. You're angry. And I hurt you."

your foolish scholar had known nothing but the thorny path that would lead to his goals, and it was your own foolish decision to chase after him like a persistent shadow. in the end, everything can be traced back to your own decision to accompany him for so long—like that hapless moth who was drawn to the raging inferno that was anaxagoras the blasphemer.

you knew that he would change the world, at any and at all costs. even if the damning price was to ruin himself in the process.

"What did I say?" he asked again and... abruptly, you felt very tired.

forget it.

"It's alright," you murmured, finally looking up to give him a lopsided smile. don't worry, went unheard. "It was...my fault more than yours."

there was another pause again, before he spoke again.

"I am in need of a...companion for Hyacine to finally relinquish her watch on me." he said, stumbling over a particular word while you gave an inquiring hum.

you like to think that you know the undertone of his statement. don't go.

but you never truly left him, even in the height of your anger and hurt. hyacine would never fail to give you updates regarding his wellbeing and any additional expenses quietly paid for by you (under the guise of an anonymous benefactor), and combined with her stubbornness and the threat of making ika sit on his chest was enough for him to veer off from going back to his laboratory far too soon.

"...I can do that." it would be another story if you saw his main table and be reminded of how you initially saw him, but that was a thing for the future.

his shoulders slumping over slightly made a smile finally crack across your face, and he swiftly closed the remaining distance to rest his weight against yours.

"Good." and he sounded like he meant it.

you know that anaxagoras doesn't apologize for his actions, not because of pride but because he would not regret any of the actions that he had made. that each of his actions were driven with a purpose that would ultimately bring him closer to his goals.

when his hand carefully rested above yours after a while, the warmth spoke more than his clumsy attempts at making it for his apparent misstep. you gazed back upon the twinkling constellations, with the weight of anaxagoras' presence sitting close to your side.

your shooting star, if only for a moment, paused in his relentless pursuit to accompany you for the night.

it wasn't quite an apology, but it was more than enough.

(p.s. first time trying to do this so please tell me your thoughts? would you also want an anaxa pov to compliment this hehe)

[lucaanis]

『🗡️』 -> "Don't let him scold you too much. Vi was worried about you."

[alaskan-wallflower]

oh btw pony isn’t just grieving the loss of his parents, he’s grieving the loss of his big brother too, his big brother being replaced by a constantly stressed, overworked, emotionally distant guardian who pony can hardly recognize as his big brother anymore.

yet, there are occasional nights where darry will sneak into pony’s room and hold him again, just like old times. there are times where darry will wipe his tears and pick him up. there are times where darry will take pony on late night drives and just talk to him about school, but there are parts of darry that have been killed in that car accident that can never be revived. and to a fourteen year old kid, his whole world went along with it.