#flowers wither gardens die

[gardenofbookworms]

week #17 recommendation: rose

Uglies by Scott Westerfeld

▪︎ sci-fi novel ▪︎

when was the last time you looked in the mirror? how'd you feel? ugly?

trust me, you're not alone—especially not in the future world in this book. there, everyone's ugly, at least until they get "the operation." then, they get all the pretty features—big doe eyes, full lips, beautiful hair, perfect eyes—through a surgery. and look just like all the other pretties. tally youngblood is currently an ugly in this world, and she can't wait for the operation. then, she'll finally be pretty, finally be worth something. but when her friend shay runs away, days before the two are supposed to their operation, everything comes to a halt. suddenly, tally's hopes and dreams of being pretty are ripped from her. if she ever even wants a chance to fulfill her desires, she needs to track down shay and bring her back. but it's along that path that she discovers just what darkness might be behind the operation...

▪︎

this book does an excellent job of conveying the problems with placing such a heavy value on conventional beauty. it makes you really think about everything—beauty standards, friendships, boundaries, even some form of grief. from the very beginning, it's easy to see how much tally, along with an entire world, has been manipulated into thinking she's ugly, and worthless. some of the standards of this society are insane, even compared to the world we currently live in. and yeah, it may seem a bit outlandish, but this is a dystopia. in a dystopia, it always goes from good to bad to worse.

[ignatiusteto]

behold my tav, enoch, he/they, wild magic sorcerer. their story is tmw you were "orphaned" (see: kidnapped) because you had dangerous powerful concentrated arcane abilities so for your safety and definitely not for the benefit of mages with malicious intent your Generous and Benevolent and Patient caretakers put you through rigorous training and subjected you to magical experiments and downright used you as an arcane battery from time to time. and you weren't allowed to speak out against any of this because otherwise you would be punished and being difficult and thus compartmentalization became your best and only friend. fast forward 24-25 years after your successful many-years-long escape plan, two weeks into your exciting newfound freedom which included getting a compulsory symbolic tattoo because you've occasionally seen other people with them when you were so rarely let out to go to town around other people (supervised heavily of course) and thought them beautiful, you get fucking tadpole'd.

and as one would imagine, being 30 years old with very restricted communication and social interaction with regular normal people messes you up. wisdom 8 baby

their arc (right now) is understanding it's okay to be upset and making that Known, acknowledging those feelings and doing something about it and not having to be a people pleaser because you are a person with wants and needs that deserve to be heard.

[not-even-stitches-can-fix-this]

9 hours without eating 💪 planing on at least 10 :3

Only 322 cals cause I’m build better-

But in better new I haven’t purged in 19 days

[lanafofana]

Instinct

Day uh, whatever, of HalsinTavWeek. I think this was supposed to be #6 Aphrodisiac/Rut/heat but it got away from me and now it's probably more breeding than anything. Oops! Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F) Summary: Tav's ovulating triggers Halsin's own instincts. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tags: Smut, Porn with not a hint of plot, PnV Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal fingering, Breeding/Aphrodisiac/Scent Kink (if you squint!), A little aftercare No beta we die like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And an AO3 link for my kudos gluttony you, if you wish.

She should have realized it then and there when she woke that morning and her hips ached. A benign enough symptom she’d brushed it off as she’d rolled out of bed and groggily puttered through her morning routine. The second clue was her shorter than usual temper. Annoyance and impatience crawled under her skin waiting to break through and eviscerate someone who so much as looked at her funny but still she remained ignorant of the larger issue. 

Comprehension only began to dawn when, much later, she was in her garden. Pulling weeds was proving to be a balm for her nervous energy and fractious temper. Though it didn’t stop the flash of irritation sparking through her veins like lightning when the sudden piercing scream of laughing children broke through her hard won placid tranquility. She turned, a sharp word on her tongue that withered and died when she saw him. 

Halsin was always good looking. It was disgustingly elven of him but he couldn’t help it and generally Tav was never one to complain. But something about seeing him, bare chested, stalking through the meadow with a child under each arm while the rest tumbled after him with breathless laughter stirred something in her. 

The sun was bright and hot that day and as the group got closer in their game of chase when the druid spun around to launch a counter attack Tav couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sweat damp hair that fanned out from his neck or the way his muscles flexed and bunched with each careful movement as he handled the children with utmost care. 

It was the tenderness with which he held the children close, that did it she’s sure. The shot of white hot lust that skitters down her spine and bloomed into a toe curling desire between her legs. Oblivious, Halsin gave each child a turn tossing them into the air as easy as another man might throw blossoms. When he caught each one he held them close and gave them a soft kiss on the head, pinching noses or tweaking chins to soften the blow when he turned his attention to the next one in line. 

He’d been gone for a couple days, roaming the border in bear form, and while she might have expected the joy of seeing him it didn’t explain how viscerally her body suddenly ached for him. The sound of his deep laughter crawled into her chest and burned. Each flex of muscle sucked the moisture from her tongue and left her practically panting. 

The realization struck her in the same moment Halsin turned and finally noticed her there, sitting among her flower beds with cheeks flushed red and an unmistakable heat in her eyes. It was her ovulation. What started out as an irritating discomfort suddenly blossomed into insatiable desire.

She felt drunk with it, the way she traced the lines of his chest with her eyes, the curves of his lips when he smiled and started to raise a hand in greeting. 

Her epiphany, while unleashing a suffocating wave of lust, was also threaded with embarrassment. There he was minding his own business playing with his charges and here she was unable to stop the exhale that verged on a whine when she pressed her thighs together for some measure of relief. She didn’t just want him, she needed him. 

Needed to taste the sweat that clung to his skin. Needed to feel the solid weight of him bearing down on her, fucking her into the ground. Needed to run her hands over the warmth of his body, scoring that perfect skin with her nails while she lost herself in the pulse of their bodies moving together in a desperate tangle of limbs and teeth and tongues and–

She swallows heavily, tearing her gaze away. With shaking hands she gathers her garden supplies and tries to reign it all in, the feral beast that has taken control of her instincts and her mind. It’s a monumental struggle but she retreats.

In the house she washes the soil from her hands and tries very carefully to not think about anything Halsin shaped. Or about the slick wet heat between her thighs. Or the feeling of his thick heavy cock in her mouth, the warm salty taste on her tongue as she swallows his cum down her throat. 

The mug in her hand slips through her fingers and smashes against the floor. 

“Shit,” she mutters, bending down to collect the pieces and swearing again when a sharp edge slices through the skin of her finger. 

A shadow appears in her peripheral. 

“My heart?” Halsin’s voice is concerned but warm, so warm it curls around her like thick honey. Her thoughts tumble over each other, scattering under the weight of his gaze. 

“I’m fine,” she dismisses. She sticks the pad of her finger into her mouth to suck at the wound while she finishes collecting the broken pieces of pottery. 

When she stands he’s closer and what little composure she’s managed to grasp, begins to slip through her fingers. 

“Y-you’re back, from patrol?” It’s an effort to keep her tone light, her eyes from hungrily trailing over every inch of his exposed skin. She throws away the broken mug and hesitates, gathering her flagging self-control before she turns to meet his eye. 

He’s giving her a strange look. Cautious, almost, like she’s a spooked mare that might bolt if he moves too quickly. “I am,” he says in his low voice, advancing with a slow smile. “I’ve missed you.” 

Affection bursts like a popping ember in her bosom. “And I, you.” 

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her softly. The dam breaks. Tav’s hands go to his chest first and the warmth of his bare skin pulls an inadvertent moan from her throat. Greedily she runs her palms up, up to his neck before finding purchase in his hair, fisting the sweat damp strands and pressing his lips more firmly against hers. 

She opens her mouth and his tongue’s slick slide against hers nearly takes her out at the knees. His hands, heavy and hot, start at her waist before moving down to clutch her hips and then further to cup her ass. 

When they break apart for air his eyes are dark and when his nostrils flare, understanding colors the look of hunger. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “I cannot control myself when your scent is thick with fertility, say the word and I’ll go.” 

“That’s the last thing I want but the children?” 

“With Thaniel and Oliver.”

“Thank the gods.” 

They collide, their desire for each other fanning into a wildfire. It was not often they got the chance to indulge in their baser instincts like this. Her fertile window was brief, a white hot spark that blazed for a few days before going out again and often he was away in the forest.

Like a bitch in heat her pheromones had the delicious effect of completely overriding his every thought. He was quite literally drunk on her, just as she was on him. 

He presses her against the wall, the only stable surface likely to survive the ardor of their coupling, and tears her clothes from her body with purpose. Revealing her sex he kneels before, sliding one of her legs over his shoulder and wasting no time lapping hungrily at her wet cunt. 

One hand on his head the other twisting her own nipple Tav feels not unlike a ship caught in the storm of their passion. The undulating of his head as his tongue swirls and flicks against her clit consumes her. He groans into her wet heat like he could break apart from chasing her orgasm alone. When he sinks a finger into her clenching body her head drops back, her mouth open in a wanton moan. 

Her first orgasm is but one wave in a tempest. While she whines and whimpers, legs shaking, desperate pleas tumbling from her lips he wrings another from her body before he rises and chases the taste of her with a breathless kiss. 

“More?” He chases the question with a hot open mouthed kiss to her neck, dedicating his attention to the pulse that hammers just under the flushed skin. 

She gasps, dizzy and undone but still burning, still hungry. “Fuck yes, don’t stop.” 

With one arm he lifts her and pins her to the wall, feasting himself on her sweat, the soft swell of her breasts, and plunging his fingers back into her pussy. She keens, head thrown back, hips jerking against his hand. The scent of sex and sweat are heavy in the air but over it all is the thick, potent scent of her , driving him wild with need. 

He sucks on her tits until they’re sensitive and raw, he bites the silken softness of her flesh until she sobs with desperation. Pumping his fingers in her sex until, nails scraping his shoulders, she screams her release. 

Their bodies crash together, over and over, each climax he drags from her sending both of them further along into a deeper, more precarious madness. When she can take no more and the tenuous hold he has on his control begins to slip he enters her at last. She mewls and clutches for purchase on his arms bracketing her, his neck above her, senseless to all but the joining of their bodies and the spiral of her final orgasm. 

With her legs on his shoulders, his hips grinding into her messy slit, what dwindling control he has crumples as he bottoms out in her cunt. He snarls, animalistic in his hunger as he loses himself to the tempo of thrusting into her exhausted body. The feel of her orgasm around his cock unmakes him and with a final groan that vibrates through his chest like a growl he cums. 

Too soon for her he pulls out but she’s too tired to do anything but let her limbs lie limp while his seed leaks out of her. He presses tender kisses to her ankle before he gently puts her legs down and crawls up her body. Soft kisses on her thighs, her stomach, the space between her breasts. He works his way up lazily, loving her with warm attention that has her smiling dopily. 

The consuming lust is temporarily sated and it’s a relief to bask in the glow of his affection. He doesn’t let her linger on the floor for long though. Gathering her in his arms he takes her to their bedroom and draws her a warm bath with his druidic magic.

Her body still aches, a bone deep hunger that lives in her hips but it’s muted now by the ache of muscles well used. He washes her hair, runs the pads of his fingers over her abused muscles with quiet attentive care, and cares for her with such aching softness she never wants the moment to end. 

Lying in bed, damp from her bath and snugly ensconced in his arms she tells herself, maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. Just this once. 

That's All Folks!

[h5eavenly]

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Fifty-Three - I was made for loving you.

warnings: mentions of weight, disordered eating. wc; 4.9k

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Hyunjin doesn’t get to think about how he ends up in front of your door, doesn’t get to comprehend the impulsive thoughts invading his mind. Not when he’s only known himself as a follower, so he follows, he follows where he knows you’ll be and maybe that’s why when he’s faced with his reality, he’s only capable of blaming you. For the ache in his heart, the fire he feels running alongside his blood and the recklessness coated by love that douses his actions. He blames you for everything even when his dignity curls by the corner and it disdained him. Weak, was it his lack of power or his faux hatred for you?

He tells himself he should leave, the small remaining bone of logical thinking tells him, screams that this is a bad idea, and he wholeheartedly agrees but his legs won’t listen to him, stubbornly glued to the floors of your familiar doorway in desperation and whispers of ‘I love you’s that had fallen from your lips right into his heart on this same spot. He sees it all, the phantoms of you kissing and then you’re smiling at him with your honey-soaked lips, dripping with unyielding affection that only ever manifests for him, in front of him as you tell him.

“I’ll wait for you,” and he feels like crying, or maybe he feels more like dying. He’ll ask you to bury him with your hands, right next to your dead flowers of love. Perhaps only then you’ll be able to witness the pain your name leaves on his heart, its scratched and blue. but he still misses you and it’s nothing less than pathetic. Mundane madness.

If he’s not allowed to die then he wishes he could break free of this leftover self-respect and allow himself to break down at your door, ugly and valiant and filled with piteous desires that you’ll take him. Right into your arms and through the gates of your so-called heaven. If he’s not allowed to die then he’ll kneel and beg you for an escape from you, any sort of drug that will help him numb you. maybe if you allow him to become one with you, mesh himself with your bones and your blood he will feel nothing but love for you, maybe if you drive him further into his awaited craziness this will all be okay, and he won’t have to see you whenever he closes his eyes.

It’s a maybe followed by another maybe and maybe and he feels nothing but overflowing pain the longer he stands here.

You’re nothing but hell so how come his heart has grown to be a masochist? yearning to be burned by your gentle wandering touches.

He wonders if his masculine pride is getting secondhand embarrassment of his soul crushing devotion for you. However, his thoughts are stuck on that point when you open the door as if somehow you knew he’s waiting outside. You’re shrouded in one of his old hoodies, one that he forgot behind when he packed his stuff and didn’t have the courage to face you once more to ask for it back. Or perhaps it’s simply a purposeful blunder to leave you with a piece of him in hopes it will haunt you.

His gaze is somber as they study the dark circles under your eyes and the red rimming your once glowing eyes, evidence of the tears that you shed not long ago. You’re pale, almost sickeningly so, fragile, and thinner than he had ever seen you. a part of him is almost glad he’s not the only one withering away with your dying garden of love.

“Hyunjin...” you’re the first to speak, in opposite to his, your gaze is surprised mimicking your tone. He doesn’t look like himself, but rather a ghost of what was once him. He’s the same man who crawled into your bed at night, the same man who littered kisses down your neck yet it’s not him. It was an ebbing version of him, one that had similar darkening circles to yours, exhaustion that had his back curved in a slouch, evidence of yet another crime you committed, a knife plunged into his heart and his blood on your hands. It makes you sick to your stomach.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, softly and tentatively.

And he closes his eyes at your voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the ears of his heart. To block out the reminiscences of you and how your voice manages to pull him right into the field of you he tries so hard to run away from. But everything leads back to you, in hindsight he’s sure you’ve made your mark on his fate like a plague. He has no choice but to be an extension of you, roaming around in hopes to be reunited with his home one day.

When he opens them, pain torrents from your eyes and he feels like glass, not like the expensive little statues you have around your apartment, but rather cheap, debilitated and easily broken with the delicacy you’re covered in when you call his name. No one will ever call him this softly, no one could ever be as cruel as you.

“Is it true?” he asks, ignoring your question because there’s no logical answer he could give. There’s no answer that won’t break him.

“w-what is true?” you ask. Voice weakened by your quiet nerves.

“Is it true that your dad is setting you up on dates and you agreed?” The frost in his voice melts as he spits each syllable out, replaced with unjust anger.

“Who told you this?”

“Does it fucking matter? Just tell me if it’s true or not.”

You grow quiet, your silence only plunges the knife further into his heart and the way your eyebrows furrow in a way too familiar conquest. Your futile attempts to string together a sentence is like grey clouds collecting above his head, leaving him foggy and stormy. So, he scoffs.

“So, was it all lies again? Your whole speech about how you’ll never give up on us how you’ll keep trying. It all meant nothing to you, didn’t it?”

“you’re being unfair Hyunjin.” You shake your head, a fresh set of tears collects in your waterline, and it only angers him, pushes him further into the abyss. He’s overwhelmed with the emotions raining on him “Am I supposed to sit still and wait for you forever when you’ve made it so clear you don’t want me anymore?” It’s all lies because deep down you know you will wait for him forever if you need to.

Sadness, anger, disappointment, it’s an endless symphony of terror that has him locked up and the key is in your hands. You’re refusing to let up and he refuses to come undone before your eyes.

“Do you want to know what’s fucking unfair Y/N?” you look away, the pain taking claim in his iris is enough to have you choking, it’s excruciating so your eyes run away but then he’s all up in your face, ruthless fingers gripping your jaw as he forces you to face him.

“Placing bets on people’s heart as if they’re puppets and not human beings,” his breath hits your cheek like little knifes and each one scratches with ferocious hatred “lying to me while looking me straight in the eye, playing games behind my back when I asked you time and time if there’s anything I should know about.” You sob, overwhelmingly ashamed and unable to keep eye contact with him, you try to break away from his grip, try to look away from his fiery gaze but it’s all useless when it only tightens around your jaw.

“Breaking my heart again when I so willingly handed it to you with so much trust in you.”  your heart falls apart at the way his words weakened towards the end “That’s fucking unfair.” His anger is displaced by exasperation that has you shaking.

“I’m sorry Hyunjin. I want to explain myself I promise there’s so much more to everything than you think.”

He laughs, humorless and cruel. Your words remain woefully inadequate, and it only has him dwindling further into his disappointment and he grows to feel idiotic, for coming here, for thinking he has any sort of authority over your actions. He’s only driven by his anger and longing for you, and he resents it. His grip on you loosens, and when he goes to take a step back, he’s stopped by your fingers circling his wrist.

“I never meant to break your heart, jinnie.”

“But you fucking did Y/N! it doesn’t matter what you meant to do, don’t you get it?” his tone rises, breaking towards the end and rendering you the same kind of broken.

“Okay yes, I did! I wish I didn’t, but I did. I get that but you can’t keep blaming me when you won’t even listen to me.”

“This is fucking stupid.” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair and then he’s shaking his head in disbelief.

“Forget it.” He spits then swivels away from you, abandoning his heart alongside his dignity.

But he doesn’t get to make it far, doesn’t even take the first step down because the sound of your body breaking down and your knees hitting the ground is enough for him to look back at you in panic, the vision of your limbs weakened on the floor is enough to have him rushing by your side.

“Y/N.” his arms are around your shoulders; your labored breaths have his eyes widening in worry.

“what’s wrong?” he questions; eyes raking through your features anxiously.

Your eyes have gone hazy, pupils dilating as they lose focus and it sets his soul ablaze with crippling fear, with a trembling absentminded cradle of your cheek “baby, can you hear me? come on focus on me.” He’s tapping your cheek gently, slightly panicking as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your back and you blink at him, regaining some of your fumbled mind.

“I-I’m sorry I just felt a little dizzy and my head was spinning-“

“Shh it’s okay.” He lets out a breath of relief when your eyes focus on him, blinking rapidly “when was the last time you eaten?” his voice is gentle in complete contrast to how he was speaking moments ago, breaking through the collecting clouds in your eyes. He pulls you to his chest, gathers you in his arms and despite the aching in your body you could only think about the familiar scent of peaches invading your senses. The comfort of his warm embrace has you clutching onto his shirt desperately.

“I don’t remember.” You murmur, you feel cold sweat collecting at the roots of your hair, your limbs growing weaker as if they weigh nothing.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N.” his warm palm that rests at your forehead brings a comfort akin to fresh air that you desperately breath in “can you stand up?” Despite the bells ringing in your ears, you still manage to nod, or at least you think you do even if you’re not sure with how lightheaded you’re feeling.

When he helps you stand up your words are meaningless as your body slumps into him, weak and drained of energy, without saying a word he takes it upon himself to carry you inside. The alarming lightness of your body as if carrying a singular feather has his heart tightening. You’re somewhat present yet not fully there when you press your face into his neck, your tears sting against his skin, burn him and he’s sure you’ll only leave another mark of yours on his body.

“I’m sorry,” you kept crying into his neck and Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say, not when his heart hammers against his ribcage begging for an escape from you, you who once was his sanctuary. Who is he supposed to find solace in when the cause of his heartbreak lies between his arms?

You don’t remember much of what happens after, you only remember flowing out of consciousness when he placed you on your couch, the familiar cushions are comfortable against your body, his presence brings ease to your loud mind and it quietens it for mere minutes that are enough for you to fall asleep, for the first time in a while. You can’t recall It perfectly, but you swear you felt Hyunjin’s colder hand in yours.

When you wake up it’s 9 p.m. The scent of cooked soup, specifically chicken soup erupts from your kitchen, filling the space of your small apartment and has your stomach growling in hunger. A dull ache has latched itself on your every muscle as if you’re a corpse who just gotten back to life. You run a tired hand over your face, a headache starts to form as soon as you sit up.

“you’re awake,” Hyunjin’s voice startles you, have not noticed him standing there. Eyes locked on you and you only nod in response. Your throat is parched.

“Water?” he asks when he notices your lingering silence and you nod, averting your eyes as he disappears back into your kitchen. When he’s back there’s a tray between his hands, carrying a glass of water and a bowl of what you assume to be the soup you smelled.

“Here.” He mumbles, a tinge of awkwardness clings to his fingers as he brings the glass to your lips, your eye contact has you feeling lightheaded for reasons other than the lack of food in your system. His thumb rubs circles on the insides of your thigh as you sip diligently. His touch has you almost doubling over for more, your longing expands and takes space over every cell in your body.

You miss him more than you miss breathing in air.

“Thank you,” you finally reply as he places the now empty glass back on the table, he doesn’t say anything back and instead pushes the tray of food towards you “eat.” His tone is banal, he avoids the longing in your glance, yet this thumb remains in its place, spreading the warmth of something you know is counterfeit. It has your throat tightening.

“How did you make this?” you ask as you swirl your spoon around the bowl.

“I had to go grocery shopping. Why is your house so empty Y/N?” He’s not looking for an answer so you don’t give him one. Instead, you busy yourself with eating as silence settles in between you two.

Hyunjin keeps his gaze locked on the dark screen of your tv and you force yourself to find a domestic alleviation in the act. In the quietness that is nowhere near as comfortable as it once was, in the rigid lines of harshness on his face. It’s all a charade, you’re aware of it but you pretend that there’s still love in these walls, in the couch you both are sitting on and it’s not filled with disappointment as it witness the growing distant between you two.

“Good?” he asks when you set your half empty bowl back on the tray.

“mhm,” you murmur, your eyes studying the side of his face and the longer he refuses to look at you the deeper your agony settles into your soul, a remorse nestled into the bit of your stomach and you could see it all when your hands reaches for his slender fingers and his body tenses as if your bodies didn’t belong together.

The walls of your living room laugh in mockery when your fingers squeeze his, lucky enough to witness this pitiful parody of what was real once. What you killed. But you never got time for it, instead Hyunjin is somehow sitting next to you, filled with quiet resentment for himself and then for you and thirdly for this foolish thing we like to call love.

“I’m so sorry about everything Hyunjin.” you say, hardly audible.

“You should be feeling sorry for your body Y/N.”

“I don’t care about my body, any sort of emotion that runs through my body is for you. it’s because of you.”

“Why did you do it then? Why did you have to kill us so brutely?” when he looks at you, you feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort that only exists within his fingertips.

“I was stupid,” you admit through swallowing down the lump forming in the center of your throat “I was jealous, and it brought out the worst in me. I had never seen you with a girl before and I just- “you suck a deep breath in, the stupidity of your actions dawns on you the longer you try to explain.

Your eyes comb over his features, the anguish clouding his iris has you melting away in the blues of your rushed decisions.

“It killed me knowing you might have fallen for someone other than me.”

“So, you decided to punish someone innocent over the faults of our hearts?” you long for evidence of his adoring for you, searching the flickers of dark in his eyes for a missing piece that feels it has been snatched away from you. You’re disappointed when you can’t find anything, it’s blank.

Who knew a simple feeling could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“I fucked up, I know I did.” Your voice breaks with anxiety at the thought of losing him “at first it was just that but when I found out that her mom was my dad’s mistress it only got worse.”

Hyunjin lets out a breath of disbelief but doesn’t complain when your nails start digging into his palm, a pathetic claim to cling onto him.

“It felt like she kept taking everyone from me it was you first, then my dad and then my mom kept comparing me to her I just felt like I wasn’t enough, yet no one was feeling my pain.” A small whimper escapes your lips, one that is filled with enough despair to has him shutting his eyes and his teeth latching painfully around his lower lip, as if trying to prevent himself from saying anything.

“I was in so much pain I just wanted to hurt everyone else around me and specifically her. She was everything that I wanted to be. Everything that everyone wanted me to be, but I was nothing but a failure that longed for your love. I was too much of a coward to say it.” You take a deep breath in, your fingers tremble between his, and you feel like an ugly monster who taints everything it touches red with fiery and resentment, it flows from your fingertips.

You feel like nothing but a weakling destruction, an abandoned ground of all the people you could have become.

“I know it’s not right if I could go back and change it trust me I would. I hate myself for it every day, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror for what I did. I was punishing her for something she didn’t even do. I was filled with hatred and anger towards the world, and I took it out on her.”  

A winding coil is waiting to snap behind your eyes when Hyunjin frees his hands from you, a shaky exhale escapes and he stands up, you feel him slipping through your fingers, see the fragments of him leaving you once again. It has an unmistakable tightness pulling at your chest. Anxiety, a monster known to make an appearance simultaneity with your darkening thoughts. It snaps when a pregnant silence follows as Hyunjin paces relentlessly before you from left to right as if trying to make sense of your words.

Regret, a color you were so familiar with, has been painted in so many times but this darkening shade you’re drowning in right now doesn’t even compare to anything you’ve felt ever before. It something so much more. A colossal amount that has painful tears cascading down your cheeks in a silent plea.

“I wanted to call it off, but Yeosang didn’t want to. He started threatening me with telling you everything and back then i-I just wasn’t ready to relive the pain of what happened with Seungmin once again.” You wince, your hands shake as your heart grows heavier with every word, with every step of his “When i-I was ready everything came crashing down and it was too late. I wanted to tell you so much sooner.”

“You don’t get it do you?” he finally speaks, voice doused with raw and unfiltered betrayal. You’re only brought back to life to be killed once again “It’s the fact that you did it in the first place that breaks my heart Y/N.”

You open your mouth to respond but no words make appearance in your mind, it’s all blank and misplaced judgments “I don’t know when you became this person. This is not the person I fell in love with. I knew you had your flaws, but I thought you were changing, I thought you left it all behind,” His eyes are devoid of vibrancy as they stare you down, a manifestation of the sadness residing in his heart “I didn’t know what you were hiding in the dark was so much worse than I could ever imagine.”

“H-how do I make it better? How do I fix it?” Your legs hurt when you move to stand up before him, a throb in your body due to how weak you grew in few weeks of abandonment.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, looking away in yearning for a fleeting respite. It’s out of reach when your hand hesitates to touch him. Why does it pain him so much when your hands linger awkwardly between you two? As if you grew to be strangers in a few counted seconds.

“Please tell me how do I fix it.” You plead, voice hoarse as your tears run like an endless steam “I wish I could go back and never make that stupid bet. I wish I could go back and fight Seungmin properly-“

“Don’t bring him up.” His brows furrow and your heart sinks.

“I never wanted to sleep with him-“

“I know. I believe you.” He interrupts you again and you realize the darkness taking over his eyes, doused in pain, is not because of betrayal but rather unexpected. It’s the same entity that you know is etched all over your being too.

Regret.

“I never blamed you for anything that happened with Seungmin.” Your hand finally touches him, cups his cheek in lovingly manner like all the destined lovers are meant to hold each other, he leans into the soft skin of your palm in broken tenderness. A shaky fuck tumbles out of his lips. He hates how you manage to see through him without him uttering a single word. He hates how delicately you touch him, he hates how his heart is wounded because of you and yet bleeds with you, for you. How your sorrow has his anger disappearing into thin air as if it never existed. And he only aches for you, for all the pain you had to endure alone.

He hates that he can’t actually hate you.

“I couldn’t protect you.” He sounds shattered when he speaks, it shatters your soul with it.

“I’m sorry,” he says shakily, and, in that moment, you think you finally understand what’s it’s like to be absolutely broken, to feel pain run through your veins as if it’s your blood, as if it’s a part of you that won’t ever relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you and he comes with ease, your face disappearing into the junction of his neck and shoulder “it’s okay, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s not your fault Hyunjin.” You speak against it, and he shakes in your embrace.

It was such an odd situation, to comfort the boy you filled with despair. It has reality sinking into you at that moment, the fact that the broken pieces of your relationship are much smaller, much sharper than you anticipated and you’re not sure how to pick them up without any of you two bleeding to death. The damage you left, the scars of your past, the unshed tears and all the broken promises are evidence of how you two are incompatible with your love. And it’s excruciating.

You pull away far enough to look at him, his eyes glisten with sorrowful water and you cradle his cheeks, wiping at the few drops that managed to escape “it’s okay.” You murmur, unsure if you’re trying to comfort him or yourself.

“I don’t know if anything will ever be okay again. I don’t know if we will ever be okay.”

“If I fix me then will you love me again?”

“Don’t talk as if you’re a mere object and not human.” He scolds and you feel as if your heart is being carved out of your chest at his care for you despite how wrong you are, how everything is your fault “It only pains me when you talk about yourself like this. When you starve yourself as a way to punish yourself.”

“What should I do then? How do I end your misery? Please tell me.”

“Bring back the girl I fell in love with. The one with infectious smiles and the gleam of the moon in her eyes,” His words hang over you like a gloomy cloud.

“Will you able to forgive me then?” you ask, sad and small.

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully, an answer you weren’t looking forward to, and it feels like an arrow has been shot through your heart “but if you’re trying then I’m willing to try too.”

Hyunjin leaves soon after, a mountain of unspoken words lingers between you two. Nothing like the secrets you had kept till now, a foreign void forms in your heart and a rather bigger weight burdens your shoulders shrouded in your relationship that’s falling apart. Hanging by a thread that you’re holding onto as if it’s your lifeline. And that’s why you stop Hyunjin by your door. Both of your cheeks flushed and eyes puffy.

“I think I was made for loving you,” your words spill like an explosion that you cannot hold back, enamored by how your soul intertwines even when you’re refusing to touch “Even if you think we seem hopeless right in this moment, and I am only ever wrong and confused. I might be a fool who does not know anything but all I know is I was made for loving you so this is my last promise, I will try my best to make everything better, to be better.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything back, there’s no right answer that he could muster up so instead he saves your words in his pocket, and you capture the look of his dreary eyes swimming with endless adoration for you in your mind.

You know it’s true, you love him without being good for anything else.

It’s not until a week later that you see Hyunjin again, right as the first snow of the new year falls. You welcome winter with a dull ache that has spread through your soul. A tempest of memories curl in the folds of frigid winds. It dances through your hair and through his when you see him right outside of your apartment complex. A thick dark blue scarf looped multiple times around his neck, remains of half-finished cigarettes at his feet gives away his building nerves as he waited for a glimpse of you.

“Did you really mean it when you said you want to be better?” When he looks at you, you envision fragments of summer in him. Mere centimeters separate you.

“I meant every word.” Your voice is as soft as the ray of sunshine slipping through the grey clouds.

“I don’t know if there’s gonna come a day where I’ve fully forgiven you. I don’t know if there’s a way for my heart not to throb painfully as it calls your name,” a pause, enough to have you holding your breath when his dark eyes flit across yours “but I think I want to be next to you when it happens.”

He closes the small space between you two and stands before you, looking down at you as if you were 16 again in the middle of your school hallway, your last book ended with bloodshed and deep scars but that never means there’s no room for healing and when Hyunjin extends his hand to you, a youthful smile taking place on his face you feel the truth bloom in you. You see fate rewrites itself into new pages, scribbles of poetry that won’t have to be filled with lies and fearful tears.

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.” You answer, with a similar smile.

Despite the bitter winter you feel the warmth of sun seeps into your being when you take his hand in yours. It’s as sweet as peaches and embraces you in overwhelming comfort. a peaceful buzz that settles through the center of your heart, a fresh new color, so bright and foreign but more than anything welcomed.

It’s hopeful and it screams stay, stay, stay.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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[darkaviarymc]

"What kind of skill set do you not currently have, but wish you did have?"

Joel's answer to Pearl's question was gardening.  He wants to sew seeds and watch beautiful plants grow.

And then. 

He code named himself "The florist."  He dubbed himself as one who creates displays of lovely flowers.

And then.

He got the Wither rose created by Jimmy's death.  Jimmy, who he had dug from his preemptive grave, saying "rise" as the Red Life rose from the pit.

Joel dug Jimmy from his grave.  Jimmy didn't die first. 

LIZZY DIED FIRST.

Lizzy.  His wife.  His love, who, once upon a time, gave her life in the defeat of a Wither... and created a Wither rose.

Joel had been a gardener, had been a florist, once before, and he didn't even realize it.

And now he is again.  Here, without his wife, holding the flower that is now all that's left of the man he'd risen from the grave, the man whose curse his wife was doomed to break.

[flurry-of-stars]

𝓐𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷-𝓕𝔂𝓸𝓭𝓸𝓻

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: Mentions of death, cheating and murder 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1k (𝓐/𝓝: I was in the middle of working on a fic when Army Dreamers came on my Spotify and suckerpunched me with this little idea. It's more a ramble than anything sdjkfns)

Fyodor, who takes the body of the person who kills him. Who is cursed and blessed with immortality. Fyodor, who can come back over and over again. No matter what, he always returns to your side, looking just as he always did when he left you. Sometimes he comes back with a new outfit.

Other times, he comes back stained in blood, but he always comes back. And you always welcome him back with a kiss and a tight hug.

You never question him. You're just happy to have him in your arms again.

Fyodor, who, knowing about his immortality, would always deny you children. He knew how badly you wanted to start a family but he couldn’t bring new life into this world knowing he would have to sit back and watch his children die before his eyes.

Fyodor, who was heartbroken when you finally died during your first incarnation to old age. He remembers how even on the days leading up to your death, you would always comment on how you withered like a dying flower, while he stayed young and lively. You even teased him for his secrets of youth, asking playfully if he had sold his soul to the devil for his youthful look as you rasped and coughed. But to him, you never were a withering flower. You were always his beautiful garden of Eden, more vibrant and lively than you ever knew.

Fyodor who finds your second incarnation. Who courts you all over again. Who killed again and again but still returns to your side. Who never stopped loving you, even though you look nothing like your first incarnation but he knows its you by the way your eyes sparkle when you smile and the way you laugh.

He could never forget that sweet smile. It haunts his every dream. The one who takes you ballroom dancing. Who buys you the exact dress you want without ever pointing it out to him. Who styles your hair just how he knows you like it without any guidance. Who’s even more heartbroken when you pass in your late twenties to illness. You hadn’t even repeated your pleas to have children yet and he already lost you again. Fyodor who buried you with his own hands this time and stayed in the rain crying over your grave. Fyodor who seeks your third incarnation but finds you a little too late. You’ve already settled down with another man. You’re talking about starting a family, moving to the countryside to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

Fyodor who can’t let you go. Who flirts with you, swoons you off your feet and drives you to cheating on your husband. Who watches as your husband comes through the door of your beautifully decorated apartment one night and shoots you both dead when he catches you both in the act.

Fyodor who takes over his body next, fleeing the scene before the police arrive.

Fyodor, who after seeking you out time and time again, incarnation to incarnation, shattering a piece of his heart and soul over and over again, decides he can’t suffer like this anymore.

He, an immortal being, was never suppose to find love. He will be here until the end of time, while you’re destined to keep dying over and over again.  He can’t keep doing this to himself. You are his addiction, his drug and today, he’s deciding to cut off the supply. But he loves you too much to stay away from you for long. He writes you poems and books, letters that are never delivered that scream his love in it’s rawest form and leaves them hidden at your previous incarnation's favorite places, hoping and praying to God that you somehow find them. Fyodor who watches your one hundred and seventy-sixth incarnation from afar as you go about your daily life. Sees your struggles and your pains. He wants nothing more than to reach out to you, to embrace you and assure you everything is going to be okay.

But he doesn’t. Even as his heart screams at him to go and chase you. Even as he almost brings himself to tears watching you struggle. He can’t do it again. It’s too much. Too, too much… Fyodor, who several months after finding your latest incarnation, is making preparations to head to Yokohama to find the Book to rewrite his fate so he can finally be with you.

Immortality be damned. He wants to settle down with you. He wants to love you freely. To finally start a family with you and when the time comes, he wants to die alongside you. He can't do this anymore. He can't stand to watch you die over and over again and yet he can't let you go. You've woven yourself too tightly into the chords of his heart. Fyodor, who receives a knock at his apartment door in Saint Petersburg as he's finalizing his plans. Who tugs on his ushanka and cloak, murmuring a quiet “One moment please.”

Fyodor who opens the door to see your current incarnation standing there. Who freezes in place, cold eyes going wide in surprise as his hollow heart skips a beat, just as it did when he met your very first incarnation all those generations ago.

You, with a kind, warm smile on your face, one of Fyodor’s poems in one hand and a jar of small flowers in the other. The same ones he had left at your very first grave just yesterday with that same small cluster of primroses in a jar. Fyodor who feels his heart falling for you all over again as you praise his beautiful, heartfelt writing and expresses how grateful you are to the person who directed you to his apartment after you asked around about the name left on the poem.

Fyodor, who can't resist inviting you in for tea.

Fyodor who knows he can’t stop loving you. Who knows no matter how many times you die, he will always seek you out. You are, after all, his weakness. His eternal lover. His addiction. 

Dividers: @/saradika 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 (first time trying this so I hope it works! (๏д๏) ) @tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @ladylntrovert @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog

[azullumi]

“heart to heart” ; ayato, cyno, diluc

summary — he could only watch as you die ; alternatively, he’s there to comfort and hold you as you take your last breath.

characters — ayato, cyno, and diluc (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — angst but not that heavy but not that light also, grammatical errors bcs i don’t like to proofread, established relationship ; scenario/one-shot

words — 1460

note — this is part 1 out of 2 !! here’s the next part with a different set of characters <33

;; AYATO

“—and i want a garden full of tulips.” you declared, a smile creasing the line of your lips, and he admires you ever so lovingly while listening to each one of your words. “why a garden only? we could have a mansion overlooking the sea.”

a hum escapes your lips as you think of his answer, “but mansions are huge and often lonely. i want a home, a warm one, big enough for us and our children and i want a garden where they can play.”

he smiles, gently, eyes gazing at you as if you’re the most lovely thing he has seen and you really are—the moonlight dances and rests on your skin, emitting a soft glow on your features, and you look much more breathtaking than ever. “we can be the ones to plant the tulips,” he elicits a light laughter from you, “mhm, we definitely should.”

it is late now, the both of you are a little bit tired resting underneath the sky peckered with stars. and right now, in the past, and future, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he—

“i love you, ayato.”

his breath hitched, like his heart has crumbled at his hands, you were there bloody and withering away on his hands, like a flower that had cut off its stem. and just like how quickly the world can be created out of three words, it shattered right at his hold.

“please don’t say that.” his voice breaks, faltering, compared to the tight hold he has on you as he desperately wishes that this warm embrace can help you even for a little bit. “why?”

not like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you aren’t supposed to die like this, you weren’t supposed to leave him, not right now, not ever—not when he still hasn't accomplished all of the things you two have talked about underneath the night sky.

“you’re saying that as if you’re going to die.”

you chuckle, “because i am.”

“this isn’t the time to be joking around.” but he knows the reality of it, he just refuses to accept it. “what about our plans?” he knows it from the way you struggle to find the words in your tongue, from the way you smile at him as you listen to his voice coming apart, “what about the tulips? the garden? you promised me,” from the way your breathing slows down and eventually—

“i… i’m sorry.”

—it stills.

a brief moment of silence and a broken sob came, “you promised me…” that you’ll be there, that you’ll plant the tulips with him. “i love you,” that’s why he mourns for you and the promises you made.

;; CYNO

“i think that’s all of them?” you walk over to his side, feeling the soreness of your body hit you. bodies were found laying all around you but they weren’t dead, just knocked out as if they still have to be taken in for questioning.

“yes but nevermind that, are you hurt?” he asks him in a flat tone, despite the nature of his words, worry didn’t lace his tone. “it’s not that bad,” you say but half of your body feels numb, your side is damp, aching as it continues to bleed—it’s just a small wound.

you weren’t going to die even if your line of work requires you to be put in danger at times, you will never die for anyone, you’ve sworn that to yourself. it may be a selfish idea but you had promised yourself that you will always choose yourself because no one can be more than you. your existence is way too important for someone else’s to have it for their own—nobody can and nobody will.

but not the general mahamatra, not your love, not him as you willingly took a hit for him which left you at this state but he doesn’t know the severity of your situation as you chose to hide it. you didn’t want the man to worry—you were selfish not until it came to him.

your vision blurs and you feel your head spin.

“cyno—“

it happened so fast. you, suddenly collapsing to the ground and him, calling out to you as he towards your direction to catch your collapsing figure before it hits the cold floor.

he cursed underneath his breath, panic washing over him as he noticed your wounded side, covered with blood and it was then that the realization had dawned upon him—you were severely hurt since earlier and he just wants to berate himself, not you, for being so careless and ignorant.

“no matter what happens, don’t you ever dare risk your life for me.”

he trembles, recalling those words in his mind. it was you who had told him that and yet, you’re here, “keep your eyes open.” he pleads in a broken tone.

“i’m sorry…” you try to fight off the growing feeling of your eyes becoming heavy and your slow breathing, fighting off the ominous being cloaked in black standing at your foot. you weren’t going to die, you promised yourself.

you were getting weaker so is the sound of your voice, your vision seems to blur and darken in each moment that passes by and oh god, how much you fear not being able to see his face, not being able to see him completely in your last moments with him—thoughts came drifting in and out of you, asking what kind of expression does he have at this moment. does he still have that same calm expression you adored?

you coughed once more, fading eyes looking for the warmth of his own, “i love you, cyno, from the first time we met until forever. remember— remember that.”

“s-stay with me.” a command, but his breaking voice fails the firmness of his words, his tone could only be so soft as he spoke. “don’t you—don’t you dare close your eyes, that is an order.”

but the light of your eyes had already disappeared and at that moment, not only you had died but also him as you breathed out your last—even in death you still held his heart.

;; DILUC

“a hug, please?” you beckon with your arms wide open for him as you sit on the edge of the bed, your bed and his. the red-headed man only smiled before

“why do you need a hug all of a sudden?”

you hum, “nothing, i just want to feel you.” and in which, he huffs out a chuckle, “you can feel me as much as you want, my love.”

he could spend his life just with you in his embrace alone. oh, how he would choose to be alive by your side over anything, over everything. nothing could beat the solace of your hands on his own, of your lips in a kiss, of your skin at his touch.

but fate could be so cruel.

“do you remember the first time we met? i was also in your arms, you caught me when i was about to fall.” your tone was soft, fragile, as if anytime soon you’ll break and give in. “please—stop talking, save your strength, please. my love, you cannot leave me, you are not going to leave me.”

he spent so much of him guarding and driving danger away from the beloved city of freedom only for him

to not be able to protect you against those, it was injudicious on his part for not thinking that those very perditions that he fights were lurking at the comfort of his home. cruel, cruel, cruel, how could fate be so cruel? how could people be so selfish?

a dry chuckle and a weak response, “we know much better than that, ‘luc.”

how could you still look breathtaking even at the hands of death? how is it that you still manage to enamour him with blood staining your lips?

“i know that i’ve always belonged in your arms, even in death.”

he’s as warm as you remember him and you are cold despite his embrace, you remember—or perhaps, know—the expression on his face as you took your last, remembered the way he feels on you, remembered the way he speaks to you so lovingly, remembered everything about him and burned it your memory in hopes that you’ll know him in your next life, if there is one.

“i love you.” he mumbles as he brings you closer to him, tears that he had been holding back had now came pouring out of his eyes, the words he had told you were laced with warmth and affection—with hurt and poison.

but you are still cold and now, lifeless as you lay in his arms. beautiful, captivating, darling—dead.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[crusty-chronicles]

Yu Yu Hakusho Men Reacting to Receiving Flowers

Synopsis: How the men of Yu Yu Hakusho react to receiving flowers and if they'd get you some in return 🌺

Yusuke💥

He pretends to be offended, but honestly it makes his heart melt

The fact that you went out of your way to actually buy him something makes him feel special.

Doing it just because without expecting anything grand in return.

If you give him flowers in private, he puts up less of a fuss.

“I'm not sick or anything, you know. Besides, you could've just plucked some weeds instead of spending so much money.” He says after (not so) begrudgingly taking the small bouquet from you.

Already knowing they won't last more than a week in his care. But still trying to hide the heat rising to his cheeks.

But if you give him flowers in front of his friends, namely Kuwabara, he makes a big show of it.

“What am I? A girl? Or did you just wanna take on gardening, because there's no way in hell you actually got me flowers.”

You end up calling him a jerk before leaving.

And he feels really bad after.

Despite his tough guy act, he genuinely does care about you and hates to see you upset. Especially when it's because of him and his big mouth.

So he shows up later to your house with an even bigger bouquet of roses.

“I'm sorry for being an ass. I didn't mean it I just…didn't want- Well, Kuwabara would never let me live it down.” He tries to explain.

But you weren't buying it, judging by how you still hadn't opened your door all the way. So he tries to apologize again the only way he knows how.

“I'll take you out wherever you want for a week if you let me in?” He says hopefully.

“That's not enough. You really hurt my feelings today.”

“Two weeks. And I'll buy you flowers every day. Your favorites~ sunflowers.”

He keeps true to his word and makes sure to always accept whatever you gift him with a huge smile from now on.

No matter if it makes him look like a softie or not.

---------------------

Kurama🦊

He's thrilled

Will point out and explain what every flower means.

What each part of the bouquet symbolizes

Please buy this man red roses

As cliche as they are, they symbolize love. Your love.

And he can't help but be smitten by the fact.

He's not the slightest embarrassed whether you give them to him in public or private.

Even if the others tease him for it, he'll just come up with a witty remark to shut them down.

“Maybe they think you're a girl after all,” Yusuke said, followed by another taunt from Kuwabara.

“His delicate features got to them.”

“What a funny way of saying the two of you have never thought of getting your partners flowers before? You do know Valentine's Day is coming up right?” Kurama shut down.

And the both of them start racing to the nearest boutique. Pushing and shoving each other out of the way.

When you gift Kurama flowers, they don't wither away within a few weeks.

Instead he'll use his demon energy to keep them alive for years.

Might even plant some of them to make a new bouquet for you in the future.

All in all, it's one of the few gestures that makes his heart beat just a little bit faster. And he cherishes each and every bud.

------------------------------

Hiei ⚔️

He could care less tbh

He isn't all that familiar with human gestures, so he doesn't know what to make of it when you present him with a bouquet

“Are you taunting me?” He asks.

And you have to explain to him that sometimes humans like to gift flowers to their lovers as a way to show affection.

He personally thinks it's a waste of time and energy. A few weeds that shrivel up and die within a week are supposed to symbolize your feelings? Why waste your human currency when he can just show you affection through his actions. i.e. watching over you.

He tells you as much too, but the second he sees you deflate, he quickly snatches them up.

Grumbling out a ‘Don’t start sulking like a child. I didn't say I rejected your little gift.’ And a ‘Next time don't bother. Come to me directly.’

Hiei will only receive your flowers in private.

You will not be able to catch him in public to give them to him.

In fact, he rarely goes out during the day. Preferring to wait for you at home.

He will also not mention it to the others and trusts you'll do the same.

Your relationship is private, and he prefers to keep it that way.

While Hiei personally doesn't see the appeal of giving flowers, he knows you do.

Which is why you wake up one morning to see a single white orchid on your pillow

And he'll deny it was ever him that left it there.

--------------------

Bonus Jin🌪️

The purest of bois

He's absolutely ecstatic when you give him flowers

Like Hiei, he doesn't understand many human gestures. But it's the fact you're giving him something that makes him so happy.

You could probably give him a rock and he'd have the same reaction

He eventually asks you why you brought him flowers.

And when you say it's because you love him, he's practically jumping with joy. Picking you up in a strong hug and swinging you around a few times before placing a smooch on your cheek.

“You've got me ears wigglin’ and everything!” And sure enough, the tips of his ears are jittering about in excitement.

He'd like to return the favor and get you flowers just as beautiful however-

“We've got a few pretty plants in demon world, but they'd probably bite your head clean off. Woosh! Just like that.” He explains.

He settles for bringing you little wildflowers whenever he has a chance to visit instead.

He's a little fascinated to find out there's meaning behind each flower.

He just figured they were pretty and that's it.

When you tell him a baby’s breath (which he thinks is an incredibly weird name for a flower) means long lasting love, he swears he can feel his face warm.

So he tries to find you flowers that hold meaning too.

The color red always seems to mean love, so most of the flowers he gifts to you in return are that color.

He's just an absolute sweetheart all around 🥺

------------------

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💘

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Crazier Bastard's Chapter 299

New title - 38. I'll Bet On You

Brief summary: Great elder elf gets scared of Clopeh's expressionless eyes. Clopeh carried Cale on his back as the butler guided them to a room. Clopeh asks Mold to send the video he took to Cale's group. Unconscious Cale finds himself in a dark space and then suddenly enters the game world.

===========

Today's Clopeh was his serious self. His expressionless eyes even scared the great elder who felt that Clopeh was a dangerous madman at that moment. He only smiled once before carrying Cale on his back, not caring about the blood still dripping on his back. And when he met eyes with Exion, he told the dragon that when Cale wakes up, they would have to give whatever Cale wanted.

As for his legend-spouting self, he did tell everyone, "It would be foolish, indeed, to turn away from this marvelous sight." This referred to the wondrous changes Cale had done to the WT. But afterwards, he muttered softly, "A hero's sacrifice. It's not a legend, it's just a tragedy."

I guess Clopeh still had some sense to consider Cale's sacrifice as tragic, and not praise it as being legendary. However, this die-hard Cale fan also noticed that 1st Bishop Mold had secretly recorded a video of what happened. And guess what he asked Mold to do? He asked Mold to send that video to Cale's group, namely CH and Raon, and to the people in the black castle... What? Why would you do that, Clopeh? Do you want them to wreck this place? 🤣🤣🤣

As for what happened to the WT, it seemed like what happened in the mindscape was also seen outside. Everyone felt Cale's nature APs and the power of the saint's golden eye. They also saw the water circling the tree and rising to the sky, and got a glimpse of the source of the world appearing in the sky. And all the flowers in the back garden withered before blooming anew. It was the WT's death and rebirth.

So it was no wonder that everyone was shocked. 1st Bishop Mold became hopeful that Cale could save this world from destruction and also change the pope's mind. Erza was too stunned to speak. The great elder was in awe. And 3rd Star Exion seemed to have made a decision. His actions afterwards seemed to imply that he had chosen to side with Cale's group.

Cale wanted to be a slacker, but even in his rest time, he had to work. 😂 Just like the past times when he fainted, he woke up in some kind of space. It was a dark space where a lone single light shone. The light was the golden eye of the saint, so Cale understood that this was how the "digestion" worked.

But a strange thing happened when he touched the golden eye...

A bright light washed over him, and soon, Cale could see the darkness disappear and a new space appear. And then he froze. [Raise your own precious Absolute God!] [Welcome to New World, the new world!] [Would you mind telling me your name, you who took your first steps on this land?] "Eh?" [Tutorial Quest 1. Set a nickname] Cale was genuinely puzzled. …Did I just suddenly, out of nowhere, enter the game world? "What the hell?" [Are you going to use the nickname "What the hell?"?] Damn it. Cale felt his irritation begin to rise.

HAHAHAHA 🤣🤣🤣🤣 First of all, that game world was really named "New World"? 😂😂😂 And then that nickname... 🤣🤣🤣 But why did Cale suddenly enter the game world? If Alberu used Taerang as his medium to enter the game, was Cale's medium the golden eye of the saint? Why was that? Was the saint from Earth 3?

Ending Remarks Clopeh's seriousness was nice to see, and Cale's sudden entrance to the game world was surprising. Now I'm excited for Cale to join Alberu in his game quests. I guess Cale would be the hero in the game too, huh? Raise my precious absolute god? Nah, Cale would be here to kill that absolute god. 😂

[literary-motif]

I've read all your Zaros fics, and it's so gooood! Btw, since some of it was flower themed, would it be okay if you incorporate hanahaki disease? Hehe. Thank you, and have a good day!

Everything with Zaros is flower themed to my eyes. I try to match their symbolism to the sort of deeper meaning of the scene or story I’m writing and so on. Glad you noticed!

Wilted Petals

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

Zaros was running out of time. 

He had shrugged off the cough at first, soothing all the worried glances and concerned mutterings of the trials being postponed if he was sick and instead pushing through. 

It was what he always did, never allowing himself to stand still for too long when the reputation of his family and his mother’s expectations weighed heavily on his shoulders. Less than perfect was unacceptable. 

The scratching in his throat had not lessened, no matter the amounts of honey he swallowed or the herbal remedies he tried. The cough seemed to worsen with every passing day, and it was getting harder and harder to hide.

“Look at Sarl Zaros, at it again,” he heard the muttered snicker of a passing noble. Zaros was leaning against one of the pillars, discreetly wiping the blood from his mouth and hiding the daffodil petals in his handkerchief. You did not see him, too engrossed in your conversation with the palace gardener.

It had been easy to hide at first, but now the scratching in his throat had evolved into a tightness in his chest, squeezing his heart and suffocating him as he gulped down breaths in between coughs. Being around you now has that effect. 

He felt like he was dying, and according to his mother, who gave him a disapproving look when she saw the dark circles under his eyes and his ashen face, he looked the part, too. 

“Stop wasting your time in the library,” she had said, shaking her head as they strolled through the garden. “Focus on what is important now. Get rest and take the throne, Zaros. I’m counting on you to succeed.”

That was a lofty goal. He could not even say for certain that he would live to see the sunrise.

Despite the library’s excellent catalog, it had taken him days to find a book relating to his condition, and as Zaros skimmed through the pages hastily — telling him this was brought on by unrequited love, telling him his salvation was a reciprocation of his feelings — the loud thumping of his heart grew deafening. 

He was going to die. 

Zaros leaned back, breathing shakily. It was out of the question that you felt anything but burning hatred and occasional annoyance for him. He was done for.

Everyone died in the end, but what kind of shame would it be to do so now? He would disappoint his mother, depriving her of the opportunity to restore the Atha’lin’s standing in society. He would fail in his purpose to better Serulla and tip the scale in the favor of the people. But most of all, how would it look if Sarl Zaros, contestant for the throne and seemingly arch nemesis of the Earis, was found choking to death on daffodil petals? Someone was bound to know about this disease and figure out the rest.

Yet there was no way out. 

Zaros shuddered, contemplating his options. He could stay in the palace, carry out his duty to Serulla and his family until he suffocated on his love under the scornful gaze of the nobles, or he could flee, abandon everything, and find a quiet place to die, taking this secret to the grave. 

He sighed. As appealing as the second option looked, he knew he could never fail in his duty. He could never betray the responsibility put on him, even if it meant withering away for all to see. 

“Are you sick?” you asked, slipping into the seat opposite Zaros and making him jump. “‘Rare Diseases and Cures’ is not what I’d include in my preparation for the trials.” He choked, feeling his eyes water again as his chest tightened. 

“Exc— me,” he heaved as his frame was wracked by coughs, turning away from you to hide behind his handkerchief. 

You watched him quizzically, contemplating getting up to fetch him something to drink. His wheezes sounded painful and the tears escaping his tightly shut eyes made you wonder just how much this was hurting him.  

Zaros had never allowed himself to show his pain, insistent on keeping tight control of himself at all times. It was hard to make him loosen up a bit, even harder to break down his walls. 

No matter how much you wished to comfort him, you knew that was not the relationship you had. He hated you after all, and you were fine with that, truly. Still, it tore you apart seeing him like this, in shambles as he desperately fought for breaths. 

You resolved to have a talk with the Queen about postponing the next trial, lowering your gaze to the page Zaros had been reading. You froze as your blood ran cold.

“Pardon,” he rasped, clenching his fist around the stained crown of the daffodil and wiping away his tears. This was tearing him apart. He just wanted to have the inevitable over with. Why did the universe need to draw out his torment?

“Who is it?” you asked flatly. 

Zaros raised his eyes, steeling himself for another coughing fit that thankfully did not come as he looked at you. “Who is what?” he asked, clearing his throat while tucking away his handkerchief and hiding the droplets of blood on his wrist. 

Your face was unreadable, not betraying the turmoil raging inside you as your eyes remained fixed on the book before him. He muttered a curse. 

“Don’t test me right now,” you warned, lifting your heavy gaze to stare him down. “Who is it? I will have them brought here. I will make them love you if that’s what it takes. So who is it?”

He sighed, shutting the book. “Not even you can force love,” he said, ignoring the metallic taste in his mouth. There was no merit in telling you, and he quietly resigned himself to his fate instead as he got up, prepared to leave.

Your hand shot out to grab his wrist, yanking him back into his seat. He could feel your hand shaking and looking into your eyes, he saw both determination and heartbreak in them. 

What did you have to feel heartbreak about when it was him struggling to breathe? 

“Tell me!” you screamed, finally losing your composure, but you did not care. There was no point in keeping up appearances when Zaros — your Zaros — was dying because of unrequited love.

It made your heart ache knowing that he adored someone this much when he saw you as nothing but a spoiled brat, but your hurt was overshadowed by the chilling terror you felt at the prospect of losing him. 

You refused to let him die. It was something that you simply could not permit, and if whoever it was that had poisoned his heart did not feel the same, you would move earth and heaven until they did. 

“Drop it, Earis!” Zaros spit, wrenching his arm free as his patience ran short. The tightness in his chest only grew worse by your touch. Every moment spent in your company was a cursed blessing and he hated himself for being unable to enjoy his last days with you, his last moments. 

No matter how much you hurt him — by your actions, your words, or by his love for you — he longed to spend every moment of his time with you, engraving the gentle sound of your laugh and the softness of your skin into his mind forever as his love suffocated him.

“Leech! You think you can just leave me like this?” You grasped the front of his sherwani, pulling him towards you and making him stumble against the table. Your blood was boiling with rage at his stubbornness, fear and desperation making you see red. “Tell me!”

“You!” Zaros screamed, his anger at your insistence quickly bleeding away into sorrow. He sighed brokenly, averting his gaze. This was a secret he had meant to take to the grave. Ironic, since it was the one digging it for him as well.

It took your mind only a moment to process before you pulled Zaros into a kiss. 

‘True love’s kiss,’ the scholar had penned near the bottom of the page, listing it as the only known remedy for the disease, and as you felt Zaros’ hands resting gently against your cheeks while he kissed you back, you were grateful that you had remembered. 

“I do, too,” you said as you broke apart. 

Zaros’ mouth was slightly agape, unbelieving of the pressure lifting from his chest in an instant. He could breathe properly again, his hacking coughs seeming like a faraway memory. That he had ever felt pain appeared absurd when you looked at him with such fondness. 

“I love you too.”

[gardenofbookworms]

week #10 recommendation: rose

Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross

▪︎ fantasy romance novel ▪︎

ah, yes, the beauty of the enemies to lovers trope—sarcastic, witty humor to arguments about all the wrong things to letters exchanged in secret to the day when the two finally realize they've fallen so impossibly hard for each other. one of my favorite tropes, i must say, especially in a fantasy world where almost anything is possible.

more than anything else, iris winnow wants to win the position of columnist at the oath gazette. for months, she's been competing against roman c. kitt for the position, hoping to win over the boss with her touching writing. sure, there was a time when she had other dreams, but what's it matter now? her brother, a soldier who only recently enlisted, has gone missing on the front lines of war, and iris has been left alone with her mother, who can't even be bothered to get off the couch. what a war it is—two of the gods of old, awoken from their slumbers in the grave, persuading humans to fight their battles for them. iris is angry, saddened, confused, lost—right up until she discovers an opportunity to head to the front lines and report on the happenings of the war. an opportunity to search for her missing brother. to do so, she'll have to leave behind everything she knows. there's nothing left for her in the city anyway, so it's fine, right? but what happens when roman—who is still her enemy, no matter what's happened between them—follows her down into the danger?

▪︎

this book was introduced to me by a very close friend, who was nothing if not insistent that i read it. and damn, was this girl right. ross' writing style is absolutely perfect for this kind of book—descriptive, but not excessively so; emotional, to the point where you're living and breathing iris and roman's experiences; breathtakingly suspenseful, to the point where you literally cannot stop reading. the couple's story is beautifully wholesome, and realistic even though it's set in a fantasy world. and the musical connections? endless, especially if you love finding the smallest phrases in songs that relate so fudging well to a book or movie or whatever. and with that, i'll leave you with this. do enjoy.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Deuce, Sebek: Like a Flower, Forever Blooming

Why does it look like Deuce is proposing to you with a tray of donut rings— WEH 😭 The birthday boy looks so handsome and gallant!! (Not usually the kind of comment I make for Deuce cksbsksnw) For some reason I tend to really like Deuce’s birthday cards…

His groovy is kinda funny too; Deuce looks like he wants to fight Alice… Interesting, because Ace acts in Alice-like ways, and he and Deuce are constantly bickering www

A Tale as Old as Time.

A girl found herself wandering into an enchanted garden. She was a tiny thing in her blue dress and pinafore, smiling sweetly at the colorful blooms surrounding her. They bore faces, those flowers—eyes, noses, and mouths, their expressions varying from curious to snarky.

The sunshine of the girl’s long locks, a youth sparkling with sensibility. They were a familiar sight.

It’s something straight from a story back home, Deuce thought.

He scrounged around for a smart comment to demonstrate his wit, his maturity. At last, he settled on: "I had no idea there were so many different looking flowers. I can barely name a few kinds.”

A dismissive grunt sounded.

"Hmph! You hail from the Queendom of Roses, don't you? And Heartslabyul is famous for its roses as well. You should be more familiar with the flora!" Sebek scolded him with a frown. "Have you no pride for your country or dormitory?! Truly, your behavior is beyond the pale!"

"I just never really paid much attention to the flowers before... I'm not the kind of guy with a green thumb. The most I do is paint the roses when the dorm leader tells me it's my turn."

"Unbelievable!! You disparage the noble perennials with that flippant attitude of yours!" Sebek shook his head. “Were you to lay your gaze upon Briar Valley in the springtime, you would surely come to appreciate them."

“Pere-what?”

“Perennials!!” Sebek folded his arms. He lifted his chin. “Don’t tell me you’re unaware of what they are! You must not be very well-read, human!!”

“O-Of course I know what they are!” Deuce stammered. “Wh-Who hasn’t heard of a para-knee-old before?!”

His fellow first year casted a doubtful look at him.

“… Okay, maybe I don’t,” Deuce admitted. His shoulders deflated along with his defiance.

“Perennials,” Sebek smirked triumphantly, “are flowers that return year after year. Roses are among them, but there are many others that fall into the category.

“When they bloom in the warm season, it is a scene to behold, a feast for the eyes! Then, come fall and winter, they wither and fade… and in spring and summer, they are born again! It is a most glorious, never-ending cycle.”

“Ah, so they live and die, then they’re brought back to life. Over and over… Endlessly?”

The gears in Deuce’s head slowly turned. Their teeth clicked into place, sparking a realization, a light in flickering on in his face.

“Oh?" The smugness in Sebek's voice was front and center. "Have you been swayed already? It certainly didn’t take much to persuade you.”

“I think I get it now, Sebek. Flowers are cool after all!” Deuce slammed a fist into an open palm. “Growing, getting older, dying, and coming back to life again… They’re like phoenixes!”

“In what way are flowers like phoenixes?!” Sebek bellowed, his volume shaking the paintings lined up on the walls. His words, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“I wanna be like that too!! As tough as a flower that bounces back year after year!” Deuce passionately declared. “If I get knocked down, I’ll just get back up again! There’s gonna be no stopping me!”

He paused. "... Do you think I should add some flaming flower decals onto my Magical Wheel?"

"You've failed to take to heart a single insightful thing I've told you!! I would hardly consider this a revelation!" Sebek groaned, a hand upon his temple.

Typical foolhardy human, he surmised with a scoff. But still, he could sense a fighter when he saw one. The determination in Deceus's eyes was unmistakable. A blue-green as sharp and as clear as a cloudless summer's day, like a sword cleaving the heavens in half.

He had seen it many times over.

It was the look of a warrior.

"Listen here, human! There are a great many number of opponents in this world whose power may rival or even exceed your own. When you should encounter such strong foes… I hope you stand your ground. To betray your own promise would be disgraceful!”

“You saying I’d go back on my word?! No way! I definitely won’t run. That’s a coward’s way out.” Deuce grinned daringly—dangerously. “No matter what comes my way, I’ll own up to it. I’ll take it all on!”

[doodles-in-sand]

"No, wait-

Please don't go-

----, please, you can't die-"

"don't leave me"

(this piece has a partner fic :) since tumblr HATES links though the fic is under the cut, and link to the ao3 ver will be in reblogs <3)

Kirisaki Shidou opens his eyes to a field of flowers.

It is calm, peaceful. In his hands is a bouquet of flowers, unlike any in the field. A rose, beautiful and bright red. A hyacinth, bluer than the sky above. Baby’s breath, small and innocent. And a bird of paradise, her favourite. 

A gust of wind, brushing past his head, like a familiar touch caressing his hair. He turns, and standing there, alive and well, is his family. His wife, his sons, exactly as he remembered them. Alive, healthy.

He watches as his sons run in the field like the children they are, and he feels not longing, but joy. He hears them laugh and yell joyfully. It feels familiar, domestic. 

They run past him, energetic as ever, in a childish game of tag. In their hands are flowers from the bouquet he holds. Baby’s breath and hyacinth, flowers that remind him of them, of their innocence, of their smiling faces.

And he looks at his wife, her hair billowing in the breeze. He can hear her laugh as she watches their sons run and play.

She turns to look at him, smiling, and in her hands is a rose like the one he holds. 

And for a moment, he, too, is alive once more. For a moment, he is the man who has lost nothing, who can smile genuinely. 

For a moment, he is not a murderer.

But then he takes a step towards them, and the moment fades. He blinks, and his sons are nowhere to be seen. In their place, where he last saw their smiling faces, last heard their youthful laughs, are patches of flowers, wilting and grey. 

The flowers that were in their hands lay wilted on the ground.

…their flowers in his hands wilt as well, crumbling in his hands.

The feeling that rises in his chest is disturbingly familiar.

He looks up at his wife, her figure now standing alone in the vast field of flowers. She is turned away from him, and she is still. So still he could almost mistake her for a statue, if not for her hair still flowing with the gentle breeze.

And for a moment, he is the man with everything at stake. For a moment, he is the desperate doctor who would do anything to save what's left of his family.

For a moment, he is a selfish gardener, willing to sacrifice it all for the sake of one.

He takes another step towards her.

Her figure blurs at the edges.

…wait, no, dont…

He takes another step. Flowers die at his feet. He does not notice.

She does not move.

Don't leave, please-

He takes another step, and then another, reaching out his hand. Flowers die with each step. He does not Care. He does not care about the flowers. He cares about his family

With each step, the rose in his hand withers. He quickens his pace, reaching his hand out in desperation.

Please, you have to live, you can’t die! 

At some point, she turns, when he is just close enough that his hand brushes against her hair, and she smiles.

Please don't leave me alone-

…And then she’s gone. Her figure dissolves into the breeze as strings of light blue, drifting away along with the petals of her rose.

He looks down at the bouquet in his hands.

Only one flower remains.

And like it, he, too, is alone.

He looks down at the trail of wilting flowers at his feet, and at the wilted remains of his family, and finally, he understands the weight of his actions. Finally, finally, he understands his hypocrisy.

And in that moment, he is a man who has lost everything. In that moment, he is the man who took and took and gained nothing. 

In that moment, he knows that he is a selfish, disgusting murderer.

…

Kirisaki Shidou opens his eyes to the ceiling of a prison.

It is a once-unfamiliar sight that he is beginning to become uncomfortably familiar with.

Sitting up from his bed, he presses his palms into his eyes, choking back a sob, trying and trying to rid his mind of his dream. Trying to rid it of the memories of his murder, and of its memories of what he's lost.

…In the end, he only really succeeds in making his gloves wet.

He stands up, ensuring that his eyes are dry before changing out his gloves for a new pair. He takes a deep breath, before setting himself to work. There's no time for grieving, here. There are people who need medical attention. The prisoners’ injuries were of more importance.

…besides, he doesn’t deserve to grieve. To grieve is to make peace, to come to terms. That would be too good for a murderer like him

[myanxietydemonaretootired]

Penelope: Every time I plant a flower in my garden I tell her sorry, because no matter how much I care and love her, one day she will wither and die.

Morgan: Babygirl, I'm just trying to eat my cereal

[rainba]

Black Roses.

Sorry if this is, like... Overly edgy..... I wanted to get some angst out of my system. >_<;;;;;;

Kairos + GN! reader

CW: obsessive behaviors, mild self-harm, suicidal ideation, angst

Kairos is familiar with the entity known as Death.

Death's cold, skeletal hands hold both his left and his right. Death interlocks its fingers with his, gripping him tightly, bruising his sensitive skin. The darkness of night is the only thing that Kairos knows. The light of the sun is far too much– it terrifies him. He fears that if he is to be touched by its golden rays, he would surely disintegrate.

All Kairos has ever wanted is one simple thing: unconditional love.

Is the feeling of being loved doomed to forever be far-removed from his life? 

The faces of couples walking down the streets haunts him. Kairos sees them kissing, hugging, holding hands, smiling and laughing in the comfort of one another’s embrace– he wants it so badly. He needs it. He's so terribly envious.

Kairos yearns so desperately to experience what it means to be "normal."

He wants to be normal, even if only for a single day. But he doesn’t actually believe he’s capable of it.

“Is… Is love even real?”

He used to wonder about that all the time.

With each passing night, the seeds of doubt would grow in his chest, their parasitic roots taking place inside his body and slowly draining him of life. Seeds of self-hatred, seeds of sorrow, seeds of gut-wrenching loneliness. Oh, how he wished to take a blade to his heart and cut them all out. He would look beautiful when covered in blood.

Days, months, years… The flowers were blooming; they refused to stop growing. Black roses decorated by thorns.

If they kept on growing, he knew he would surely die. He knew that the garden would fully flourish once he was buried six feet underground. It was tempting.

So tempting.

His existence will be worth more once he's gone, he thinks.

People will only love him when they no longer have to actually deal with him.

… However, once he meets you, his entire life will change forever.

When you treat him with kindness, when you acknowledge his existence, the horrible garden within his chest begins to wither.

To Kairos, you’re a miracle. To him, you’ve saved his life by simply existing. So perfect– so beautiful– you’re everything he could ever want and more. Perhaps you’re an angel sent from up above, an angel brought down to show him what it means to be alive. Perhaps you’re his soulmate, and after twenty-four years, he’s finally found you.

Kairos can’t return to the life he had before he met you. He can’t go back to the pitch-black darkness that he used to reside in.

Please, be his light– please, be his everything. The sun is too much, but you're perfect. He’ll do anything to keep you around.

He’ll change himself for you, he’ll grovel on the floor and beg you to stay. He'll kiss the ground that you walk on. He’ll cut down anyone who gets in his way. Just, please– please, please, don’t leave him. Your presence makes the poisonous flowers within him wither. You're his perfect cure.

Take death’s hands away from his and replace them with yours. Take his first kiss, be the first one to hold him close, show him that love truly does exist in this cruel and unforgiving world.

Kairos will follow you to the ends of the earth, always facing you the way a flower faces the sun. He’ll chase you until the end of time, if he has to.

Yell at him, scream at him, degrade and berate him. He’ll love you regardless. After all… Couples argue, right? There’s hiccups along the way. That’s normal! You love him, and you just don’t realize it yet. That’s what it is. That’s all that it is. That’s all.

Open your arms and accept him, reciprocate his love and hold him close… He’ll treasure you more than he treasures life itself. 

Will you show him that love is real?

Or will you reveal to him that what he’s feeling isn’t love at all?