#i can at least remind myself that magic comes from pain

[sad-drake-lyrics]

rewatching The Magicians again because that’s something a totally normal, non-manically depressed and broken person would do. 🙃

[andrbllts]

When Life Falls Apart

Plays "Fix You" by Coldplay

Hi everyone. It's 10:04:00 PM 9/13/24. In the middle of doing adhoc tasks at work. Here in my unfurnished apartment in Pasay.

There’s a special kind of peace on a cold, quiet night tonight. The air is crisp, the sky is a deep blue, scattered with stars that twinkle like tiny diamonds. It’s so quiet that even the smallest sounds feels amplified, as if the world itself is listening. The stillness is comforting, a gentle reminder of the beauty in solitude and the magic that a quiet night can bring. And this made me decide to write something here tonight. About what? Struggles.

If you’re reading this, the title of this post somehow, got your attention. You might be going through one of those moments when it feels like everything is falling apart. Maybe you’ve just failed at something you were deeply passionate about, lost someone you loved, or find yourself struggling to trust anyone because so many people have let you down. Life can be brutally challenging, especially when your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million pieces, and the pain seems like it will never end.

I know this feeling all too well. I come from a complicated family background. My mom is still technically married to her husband, but they haven’t been together in years. My dad, on the other hand, is in a relationship with his wife and already had three kids by the time I was born. It was a messy situation, to say the least. I grew up mostly alone, spoiled by the financial support my parents provided, but lacking the emotional stability of a traditional family.

So, at 16, when I met my 2nd girlfriend, I was determined to create the family I never had. I wanted to experience the warmth of a close-knit family, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t let my own family be broken like the one I grew up in. I swore I’d be a responsible husband and father. But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them. I was cheated on and led on five times before I finally decided to choose myself. It was soul-crushing, and at one point, I even contemplated ending my life.

I fell into a dark place, turning to vices, women, and alcohol, trying to numb the pain. I became someone I didn’t recognize���flirting for fun, pulling away the moment things got serious, too guarded to let anyone in. In my attempt to protect my heart, I forgot how to truly love. And when I did finally get into another relationship, I didn’t handle it well. I hurt people, became arrogant, and lost sight of who I was. My past mistakes haunted me, and it took years to recover from the self-inflicted wounds.

Eventually, I made a promise to myself: if I ever found myself in a relationship again, I would be the best version of myself. I would give that person the love and care they deserved, the understanding and passion I once had. And I did—I met someone, fell in love, and for a while, it felt like I was finally getting it right. But after two years, I got cheated on again. It was a painful reminder of why I guard my heart so fiercely. I love deeply, and when I get hurt, it takes me a long time to heal.

But this time, I refused to let heartbreak destroy me. I focused on healing and becoming a better version of myself. I met someone else, and although it didn’t work out, I’m okay. I’ve learned to find peace in the journey, even when the outcome isn’t what I hoped for. I’m still lucky. Life might not always go the way we plan, but I believe we have the power to decide how we respond, to pick ourselves up, and to keep moving forward, even when it feels impossible.

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

My Little Shadow: Part fourteen (Azriel x reader)

Warnings: Torture, attempted daemati magic, manipulation

Part thirteen Epilogue/Part fifteen

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters @luvmoo @rorel1a @minakay @foreverrandomwritings

This is the second to last episode! Next one is an epilogue, and will have the promised smut! But in this one, Y/N meets a strange, tricky woman with violet eyes...

I screamed, and I didn’t stop screaming for what felt like hours.

I didn’t know where my friends were, but my mind was all consumed by pain.  They had burned my hands.  Over, and over, and over again.

Now they were breaking bones, and I could help the sounds I made or the tears that fell as I pleaded for it to stop.

“You know how to make this stop little girl.”  The thing in my father said, and I looked at him through my haze of tears and pain.

“Fuck you.”  I spat in his face, and he obviously didn’t like that, because he snarled as he reared back.

“Don’t stop.  No matter how much she fucking begs.”  He hissed, and I screamed once again as hot, searing pain flashed across my vision.

My back was torn into a million bloody pieces, and my hands were in their own type of hell every time they touched anything, and as they threw me to the ground again and again, my hands felt shattered too.

That goes on for a few more minutes after he leaves, and I’m convinced this was where I was going to die.

At least Azriel was safe.

“Stop.”  A silky female voice rang out, and I let out a sob of pain and relief as my battered body hit the ground.

“Y/N, right?”  The female said, and I looked up to see a tall fae woman, pale with dark hair and eyes of shimmering violet.  She burn scars on almost every inch of skin that I could see.  She was wearing black velvety dress that left very little to the imagination.

I would have wondered if she were related to rhys if not for her fair complexion and lack of wings.

I nod, unsure if I could even form words.

She tuts, kneeling down and lifting my face to examine me.  “I’m sorry for my companions.  Unguided. their methods of getting what they want can be rather crude.”

“What do you even want from me?”  I ask, my voice sounding as broken as my spirit.

I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out under this.

She smiled, using some sort of darkness to detach my chains from the floor.  She extended a hand, helping me to my feet, and even letting me lean against her.

I hated it.  I hated it because I knew these types of people, and she wasn’t being kind, or sweet, or nice at all.

She was a snake in the grass.

Luckily, I was one too.

I let myself lean on her, seem more weak than I was as I built my strength back up.

“My name is Meave.  I come from a very awful place.  I hate it there.  It much reminds me of this place, stifling and dark.  Eating up the good in the world.”  She hummed as she brought me to what looked like a well, but it’s walls were made completely of that black ebony.

The water inside one amplified that darkness, making it look depthless.

I had a place of my own, where I ruled over people.  Happy people who I kept safe.

She waved a hand over the dark water and the image of a beautiful, but terrifying female of flame and glory danced through a hall, wearing some sort of amulet as she basked in the cheers of people kneeling before her.

“She took my people, and now they live under a queen that cares not for their happiness, only her glory and praise.”  She said, her voice thick with hatred.

She touches the water longingly, and it shifts to the image of a beautiful city.  “I need to get back there, to my people.”

I force myself not to flinch away as she touches my cheek gently, bringing me over to look her in the eyes once again.

She petted my hair softly, speaking in a sorrowful tone, “There is a way to get back, but we need help.  We need your help.”

“Your shadows are more powerful than you even know, they can open this portal, and let us go back to this beautiful place and protect it.”  She took my face in both of her hands.  “Please, we need your help.”

If she was really as pure hearted as she claimed, she wouldn’t have let her ‘friends’ torture me or Azriel.

I nod, a plan coming together in my mind.  “Oh, wow.  Of course I’ll help you, that sounds absolutely dreadful.”  I looked up at her with wide eyes, making myself look as clueless and lost as possible.  I even managed to make my lip wobble a bit I think.

And as I hoped, she latched onto the line I threw out.  “Thank you so much.  Almost everyone we have met here has tried to hurt us in one way or another.”

Bullshit.

“I can understand that.  This place has always been cruel.”  I say, smiling at her.

She gives me back a little smile, removing the chains from my wrists.  “I can help guide you through the process, let’s head up to the well.”

Leading me up to the well, I swear I could feel something tapping at my mental shields.  I felt sick, realizing Meave was trying to sneak through my shields.

I reinforced them, keeping my face happy and plain, as if there wasn’t a thing wrong in the world.

She glanced at me, but kept searching for a weakness in my shields as we made it up to the well.  “Just use your shadows to try and reach for that place I showed you, they should be able to tell what to do from there.”

I went to place a hand on the edge of the well, hissing and drawing back as my already burnt hand throbbed from the sensation of the stones.

I brought my shadows up around me, and Meave watched with greedy eyes as I brought all the shadows I could up and around the well.

And then everything exploded.

My shadows took out the supports in seconds, tearing down the walls as screams rang out.

I stumbled as Meave grabbed for me.  “WHAT DID YOU DO?”  She shouted, reaching for me again.

I dodged out of the way, turning and running as rocks plummeted down from the ceiling.  I don’t know what happened to the female, but after a few minutes I no longer heard her voice as I ran through the crumbling caves.

No one tried to stop me, all of them preoccupied with their own survival.

I ran as quickly as I could with a broken arm and ribs.  The only problem was that I had never been in this part of the caves, and I had no idea which way to go.

A large pile of rocks crumbled in front of me, making me stumble back into the chest of some male.

I turned to look, but they wrapped their arms around me, and I gasped as their scent hit me.

Azriel.

Shadows quickly wrapped around us, and we were suddenly in a different section of the caves, one I recognised.

Azriel leaned against the wall, still holding me tightly even as his uneven breaths told me he was struggling.

“Are you okay?”  He asked weakly, letting me go only enough so I could turn around.

I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to talk about it right now.  So when I turned around, I looked up into his tired, pain laced eyes, saying softly, “I love you.”

He rested his forehead on mine, shaking a little bit.  “I love you too my little shadow.”

[justanotherlonelywritersblog]

My Everlasting Muse pt.1

Harry styles x OC

Warnings: 18+ Drugs, smoking, alcohol, mature content, swearing

Meeting someone who is irrevocably, unapologetically themselves is near impossible these days. 

There was a point in my life where I was stuck in a tsunami of grief, with waves of hidden agendas and vendettas constantly crashing against me. Never knowing which friend would be the next to betray me, or which camera would snap a picture of my walking corpse, or which news outlet would pay the prettiest dime for a glimpse of my remains. Hollywood breeds trust issues and kills the most beautiful minds. All because they had a dream, they once thought was worth pursuing. 

Growing up the idea of music and having a career in it sounded magical. So unbelievably naive, I studied every vinyl, witnessed as many concerts as I could, and sang until my vocal cords went raw. And when the opportunity planted itself in front of me, I leaped across the ocean with hopes and dreams and ended up landing in the viper's den. And as the tickets sold, and my voice was heard across the world I learned to hate what I once used to adore. And as the stadiums roared, and the music played, my interest in cocaine and booze increased every day. 

The family and friends I used to hang out with every Sunday, no longer heard from me. Getting their updates on my life with the rest of the world, through tabloids and news stations. The claws of Hollywood were digging into me, indulging every night, waking up to a groupie every morning, and feeling lost in the process of creation. I sang words of love and ambition but was experiencing none of those feelings. On the outside, I was the epitome of coming from nothing and making a real name for yourself. But was it worth sacrificing everything and everyone I've ever known? Well, I don't know. 

I was drowning and quickly sinking further down a whole of scandals and self-destruction, not knowing who to ask or how to ask for help, when everyone around me is in the same sinking boat as I am. I wrote a song when I was younger, it's the reason I have the fortune I do now, it was about how love can save you from the darkest of things. But I didn't know at the time, that even love couldn't save you from yourself. 

Or at least I thought so. 

A girl with eyes of salt, and an annoyingly positive personality somehow swam onto my sinking ship and rescued me from the wreck that was myself. I didn't think it was possible. A girl I once detested and hated everything she stood for, who was irrevocably and unapologetically herself, became my everlasting muse.

And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. 

..............

Love is ironic.

It's magnetizing because it can elicit happiness, but it can also elicit pain. For it is the pain that reminds you of how truly connected you are to the person you fell in love with. 

I wasn't always so unapologetically me. 

There was a time in my life when I would sit under the stars and pray to anything, anyone up there, to give me a sign that I wasn't broken, that I wasn't unlovable, and that there was someone out there who would reassure me that I wasn't a freak of nature. Growing up in a home where shouting was the courtesy, and broken bottles were normal, it made sense I clang to the first person who showed me a sliver of love. So entrapped in the appeal of being in love, I naively went from one traumatic home to another. 

A voice that used to be gentle, now reflected my father's. Deep and intoxicated, staggering around our home with shoves and the occasional fist to my face. Isolated and a million miles away from everything I've ever known, I became trapped in this cycle of intoxication and abuse that I so badly wanted to escape.

 I was repeating my mother's mistakes.

 And the day I realized that I left in a raggedy zeppelin t-shirt, with blood-soaked hands and never looked back.

Starting over in a new city, with a new name and a new goal in life. 

Just be me. 

I wanted to determine my own fate, my own decisions, my own passions. I was over letting people walk over me and being confined to their ideas of what I should be. 

However, I never expected this new chapter in my life to end up unraveling like it did. 

Booze, regrets, parties, and cigarettes. 

I guess the trauma was resurfacing through self-deprecating behavior. But I'm not shaming my past mistakes, for it ended up leading to my savior. He was older, and his aura pulsed trouble. He didn't have to carry himself; his name did all the work for him. His brooding nature, and downright miserable attitude made me want to be the positive one for once. 

I knew the logical thing was to ignore him. I knew who he was, I knew the danger that surrounded him, and the spotlight that followed him. I should've left him and never looked back, as I had done in my past life. However, there was something magnetic pulling me towards him. Maybe it was the universe, maybe it was just luck how we always ended up in the same place and the same time. 

I became his anchor; he became my life. 

I never thought I'd be known as Harry Style's everlasting muse. 

But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. 

............

pt. 2 here

A/N: ahhhhhh i'm so excited!! Let me know what you think so far! This is my first fan fic so please be nice lol

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy reading this! Updates will come as soon as I can! I'm so excited about this story, let me know what you think so far! 

[alexanderlightweight]

Wednesday prompt: your reblogged Edom gif set gave me an idea: Alec being hounded by his family to move on from Magnus, with him being in Edom, claiming the just want what is best for him to the point where he is going „fine, let me tell you all the lie that I moved on to have some peace for planning“ to pull the biggest power move behind their backs to get himself to his man and ultimately his man and himself back where he belongs.

i loved this prompt and i love the idea it gave you that you then shared with me <3

okay i think i should admit at this point that sometimes i start to answer asks but then get distracted by formatting and forget to double check that i actually finished writing at the beginning

but i remembered and i am trying to be better

lumine

mentioned but not actual suicide

-

Alec isn’t sure what he expected.

Support, he thinks.

He’d thought that for the first time, he might actually get support in the moment he needed it the most, from the people who have started showing that they actually love him. That Alec is more than what he can do for his family and their name.

Instead, everyone acts like it should be easy for him to move on. That seeing Magnus ever again is impossible and that he needs to stop thinking about his fiancé.

It’s been months at this point and Alec is growing desperate and when they meet to discuss possibilities, even Cat is giving him sympathetic, pained looks — though she never tries to stop him.

—

Alec takes a deep breath and reminds himself that if this fails it doesn’t really matter.

Magnus is stuck in Edom — alone — whether or not he tries this and if he dies, well at least Magnus won’t know to mourn him until it’s far too late and he’s hopefully moved on.

The angelic core sings to him in the same way it has ever since Magnus used it to purge the leylines. It calls to him with crooning vibrations that shake the very blood in his veins. If this works, Alec will be sturdy enough to survive Edom, to survive whatever demonic powers will try to subdue him.  It might not be pleasant, but he’ll be able to live there, with Magnus.

—

Cat stares at Alec in shock before she’s shaking her head and she pulls him quickly inside, throwing up the background wards to ensure Madzie won’t wake and come out.

“You did it then?” She asks, reaching out to touch him with diagnostic magic. The results are unfamiliar but there is nothing specifically wrong and so she lets her magic fade, conserving it for the spell she’ll need to cast.

“It worked.” Alec says and he’s not smiling but he’s not gritting his teeth so whatever discomfort he’s feeling, it’s not enough to slow him down.

“And your family? The Institute?”

“The Institute is going to think I killed myself by throwing myself into the angelic core.” Alec says dryly, voice hoarse and face a little stiff. “It unraveled me, before it changed me, Cat. I came back to myself in our loft, in our bed clutching Magnus’ robe. When they look at the video footage and the heat signatures of the Institute, they’ll assume I’m dead. My family will have no reason to think otherwise.”

He doesn’t say what happened to his parabatai bond, but Cat doesn’t ask aware how sensitive of a subject it is.

“Well… I suppose that’s a pity for them.” Cat is too tired to care about shadowhunters other than Magnus’ partner. Especially when Alec is the only shadowhunter out of the ungrateful lot who actually cares that Magnus sacrificed himself.  Even Alec’s siblings are far too busy celebrating to even let their brother mourn and Cat will never forgive them for the disrespect they’re showing Magnus or Alec by their actions.

Magnus Bane is not someone easily gotten over, and Cat is pleased that Alec is devoted enough to go after Edom, it’s what Magnus deserves.

—

Magnus has spent months shoring up his power, demolishing his father’s palace and building his own. It’s built from demon bone, and it is a maroon so deep it’s nearly black and it gleams like arterial blood when Edom’s twin suns rise.

Lilith has kept herself hidden since their last skirmish and ever sense Magnus’ found and tamed the krakens of Edom’s deep abyssal lakes, he’s had to worry about her less. It means that he’s completely aware when magic alerts him to a magical intrusion.

It’s gentle in a way that Edom has nearly forced Magnus to forget, and he reaches out curiously, ready to destroy it but wanting to know what it is, even if it is a trick from Lilith.

It only takes a touch for him to recognize it as Cat’s magic.  Magnus stares with an almost detached surprise as he gathers the giant cloud of magic to himself. It’s nearly crystallized with how dense it is and Magnus wonders what Cat thought was so important that she’d not only risk sending it to him but give so much of herself to get to him safely.

His heart doesn’t let him hope and it’s not until the magic cracks away and an unconscious Alexander falls into his arms, that Magnus realizes the gift he’s been given.

There is a note, undoubtedly with instructions and explanations, but all Magnus can do is hold Alexander to him. His darling fiancé, his sweet, earnest boy is here, in Magnus’ arms.

Alexander came to him, he fought for him.

Because Magnus knows something is different and that Cat would only have sent Alec to him if she was sure Alexander could survive Edom.  His boy isn’t a vampire, and he still has his runes. His breath is soft and slow against Magnus’ neck, and it brings a sweet relief to feel it. Magnus will learn how to wake him in a moment but for now, the joy of simply holding Alexander outweighs even the desire to hear his name on Alexander’s lips.

So, Magnus holds his boy close with his arms and his magic and he vows that the next time Lilith comes, Magnus will destroy her properly.

For now, that his fiancé is here, Magnus will suffer nothing less than being the true ruler of Edom.

He is finished playing games.

-

I realize the prompt asked for alec to help get them back but honestly, that boy was 'I must get to magnus. it is a need, not a want' and then he went and did it and he made absolutely no plans beyond 'we'll have our wedding in edom if i have to make lilith be the officiant'

magnus: alexander i realize that you thought this out but what about things? like

alec: you mean the things that you like that you must be missing and cat and i both refused to give up so she helped me gather as many of your pocket dimensions as we could find and cat created a few extra and then she sealed them to my soul so they wouldn't get torn away from me because we hated the thought of you down here by yourself without any of the comforts you like

magnus hands shaking as he opens a pocket and finds his favorite blend of tea that ragnor and cat never would tell him how to make, along with a copied and sealed recipe in ragnor's handwriting. and plenty of ingredients to make it with. a whole pocket of cat's specially made potions and another of her poisions and cat did stasis charms on specialty food/etc.

like cat and alec planned the fuck out of this. they could only focus on one goal which was getting alec live to magnus and him staying that way. but they were also going to sure as fuck bring/send magnus everything he could possibly need and want.

cat wasn't going to give up on magnus, especially not with a determined, powerful adn recklessly in love shadowhunter racing her for most obsessed to help magnus.

she and madzie had weekly nights where they would go shop all weekend and get 'care packages ready to send with Alec when he goes to live with Magnus' and Madzie drew a lot of pictures and made little magical figurines and she made catarina go to the nightmarket and they got magical fairly lights and lanterns and lamps for alec and magnus and lots of blankets so magnus and alec can have blanket forts together even if they cn't with madzie anymore (her idea).

he also is taking all of magnus' portable libraries they could find and whatever of ragnor's cat's not using on her end (they're trying to find a waay to communicate easier)

[apotelesmaa]

I lovvvve thinking about dtk and black star like way past the manga (assuming black star is immortal here via him becoming a god out of sheer force of will) dealing with immortality and losing their friends it’s so fascinating to me (statements said by the truly deranged)…. Rotating it in my mind… Incomprehensible rambling under the read more

I think that like objectively kid would probably be the most prepared for it given he’s a literal death god but it would still be painful. He’s not really human but he had the very human experience of growing up with a tight group of friends and now has to deal with the very human emotion of grief and figure out how to navigate that. I feel like he would (shockingly) have a pretty healthy response after a few years of grieving because unlike with his dad he would actually get closure here. Idk if he would ever get another weapon partner again though like he would probably at least use whatever high ranking weapon at dwma was closest on the very rare chance he needed one but nobody could ever replace the thompsons. I feel like he would also just have little reminders of his friends everywhere just to keep them in his memory.

I see a lot of people saying he would withdraw completely and distance himself from humanity but like… I don’t think he would ever do that the thing about kid that really differentiated him from his dad was he was raised with humans and interacted with them frequently which fostered a connection that lord death didn’t really have. He in general has such a love for humanity and people I feel like he would be very involved at the dwma with the students and faculty. Lord death was kinda like… he Liked humans but he still viewed himself as something else first and foremost. Kicking the can of worms that was asura down the road for later never telling anyone anything because it’s a god problem not a problem for humans. He made zero effort to talk to the witches as well because he kinda just went “well they’re all evil and that’ll never change” & never confronted that belief. As opposed to dtk who went to the witches to help and put all his faith in his friends and relied on them heavily. He Likes People… He still would want to talk to the humans around him and help them. I cannot see him doing what his dad did and just locking himself in the death room forever and ever. Nothing will replace his friends but that doesn’t mean he can’t make new friends.

Black star however I think would handle it poorly for a long time I don’t think he knows what healthy coping mechanisms are. He’s very all or nothing. Only deals in extremes. Stuck in the anger stage of grief for a long time. I think he would fuck off into the wilderness for like 5 years and stew into his depression before eventually coming back to dwma like a sad wet cat. Kid knew where he was the entire time but knew he needed space so he just let him be. (Dtk voice) oh good you’re back (genuine) you are going to therapy if even if I have to drag you there myself & if you ever disappear like that again I will make you do paperwork for years (threatening). I think he would to some extent become as distanced as lord death was just because he doesn’t want to go through that again. Friendly with all the people around him but never really going past a surface level of knowing them. Also he would absolutely never get another weapon partner he would just pull a mifune and use a real non magic boring sword. Eventually gets better about the distance thing because kid mandated therapy if he wanted to keep doing missions. He kinda becomes the go to guy at dwma for dangerous missions because he thinks they’re fun and he enjoys bragging about it. Maybe trains some students on the side and makes suggestions about the curriculum. He gets absolutely no say in the day to day operations of the dwma though he would burn it to the ground. Black star lies and tells students he’s the second cooler death god. (BS voice) who cares about that stuffy guy who does boring paperwork all day you guys should be worshipping ME (dtk voice) that is because he does not know how to do paperwork. he just submits his autograph.

I ultimately think they would support each other and rely on each other because they’re friends first and foremost but also because they’re kinda the only ones who get what it’s like. They both keep the memory of their friends alive and it’s nice to have someone else who remembers them. Insert the panels of black star saying he wants to bring about a balanced world with kid or whatever he said during their rematch. Sharing the burden of both grief and also keeping the world’s balance in check. Excalibur also gets it but he and black star cannot be in the same room for more then 10 minutes before black star starts trying (and failing) to violently murder him.

As a side note I think dtk and Excalibur would become… not friends. But Excalibur was close to his dad and seems to feel some degree of responsibility over kid because of it. Functions as the annoying pop up window that tells kid to take a break and occasionally gives good advice when he isn’t acting Like That. Dtk forgives black star for ghosting him for 5 years but will never forgive being forced to spend 5 years with Excalibur by himself & so every time Excalibur comes by kid redirects him to black star like “black star was just telling me the other day he couldn’t remember your legend you should go remind him :)”

[medium-bloodcrafter-scion]

The Legendborn Cycle Theory Time!

So Tracy Deonn finally dropped us a delectable little breadcrumb for LB3 (6/6/23) via an Instagram post and I am now going to proceed to overanalyse the shit out of it because I cannot help myself.

So Ms Deonn is introducing a new magic system (exciting!) and she posted flowers 🌷🌷🌷🌷- fiery-looking tulips in the foreground. She also mentioned that the scene where Bree is introduced to this new system will involve some kind of emotional payoff. So, my theories:

Disclaimer: I just spitball when I make my theories, they are like 50% thinking and 50% intuition. In other words, I may or may not have a logical reason behind them, I'm just here to have fun.

1. Initially I thought it could be Morgaine magic, but Morgaines also use aether, just a different style of it, and I can't see the emotional ties there. May have to think more about it.

2. Fae magic was my second/related thought, but I cannot see the emotional link at this point. Also Fae haven't been (officially?) introduced in this series, though they are present in Arthuriana so it would make sense to have them.

3. Given how Sel mockingly suggests Bree's mom used magic to 'grow prettier flowers,' back in LB, I'm wondering whether this is a magic system that Faye created with Natasia (Sel's mommy). We've seen them blend magic together already for Bree's sake, so maybe out of love for their children and the realisation that they would be separated from them, they ended up devising something entirely new. Maybe the new magic is how Natasia was healed of demonia? We're definitely getting a Natasia story, where we'll probably learn more about Bree's mom via Nat's pov as she explains to Bree. Bree meeting her, learning more about Faye's secret life as a Rootcrafter/Bloodcrafter who befriended a Merlin will definitely be quite touching.

4. Back to a semi-theory /idea I made in a comment on someone's post... Could be possible we see the Shadowking follow through on his promise and drain Bree of his power, almost killing her in the process. Maybe more HC than theory, I can imagine Bree reconciling with Vera and all her mothers in the ancestral plane as she almost dies, and in the process learning from them that there is magic that is borne out of love, and not pain or bloodshed the way bloodcraft is. This 'higher' magic wouldn't come at the cost bargaining your life away or from theft.

Imagines the ancestral plane transformed into a field of tulips, Bree and her mothers all clothed in pretty white dresses... At very least I may turn this into a fic because 😭

5. Linking back to the previous point, tulips represent forgiveness and pure love, suggesting those elements could be at play in this new magic system. It hearkens back to Bree's ancestor - Jesse I think - who drew on her power by thinking about the love she had for her mom (? Can't remember specifics). Maybe she had the right idea, but wrong magic (bloodcrafted root).

6. There was an article where some of Tracy's favourite books were listed, and it was fun to refer to that list to find out where she may draw some of her inspiration. Of note was the Dark is Rising (DiR) sequence, a series of children's stories that is fantasy based in Arthurian legend. I skimmed through the Wiki for that series and noted lots of themes and ideas overlapping with Legendborn. Notably, the magic system of DiR features three types of magic - Old Magic, Wild Magic, and High Magic. Old Magic is elemental and reminds me of Aether as used by the Order in LBC (Sel explains how magic is physics and aether is an element), Wild Magic is drawn from nature and would be similar to Rootcraft in LBC, and then the third type in DiR is High Magic, - cosmic in origin, and more powerful than the other two. ALL THIS TO SAY I think the new system we'll be introduced to will be incredibly powerful, moreso than what we've seen, and possibly tied into higher principles like love, sacrificial love, forgiveness, truth, etc.

Anyways that's enough rambling for now. I'm actually most excited about seeing how Tracy uses the new system as part of Bree's healing journey. Honestly this series is just so impactful and I know that third book will make me cry (in a good way).

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

pick between 5 of my babies? 🥺 GLADLY

(these aren't necessarily my favorites btw. just the ones that i wanna boost!)

lies of attrition

my priority atm, and also a super fun collab with me and @ladyofthenoodle! if you want some post-s5 angst, action, pining, and ladynoir enemies, this is the place to be!

summary: The trust between Ladybug and Chat Noir is stretched to breaking point when a new butterfly holder emerges in the wake of Monarque's defeat. Chat Noir doesn't know who to trust until Chrysalis confronts him with a truth Ladybug had tried to bury: Monarque made the Wish—and she wants Chat Noir’s help to undo it. excerpt: “Chat,” Ladybug said, her voice coated with worry. “Did something happen?” He could tell her, now. He had come here to tell her, to show her his face after three years of partnership, to let her see why so much was suddenly wrong. If only he knew what she would say when he pulled off his mask. If only he knew whether she would stay or go. “I could tell you,” he ventured, turning to look directly at her. “But… it’s easier if I show you.” He saw the moment she realized; the way her blue eyes widened, her pink lips parting in a tiny “o.” They stared at each other, unmoving, the sounds of the parade fading into the night. A single firework burst overhead, shattering the standstill. Red blazed over her face, the fall of sparks raining down behind her. Then her features pinched, and in that moment, every hidden place within him was painted red too. “Oh, Chat Noir,” Ladybug whispered, her expression growing more pained by the second. “I… I don’t know.”

Like Smoke from a Furnace

one of my personal favorites! this was an experiment for me in present tense and internal conflict, and i really like how it turned out!

summary: Marinette and Adrien give up their Miraculous. Ladybug and Chat Noir never meet again. excerpt: Giving up the Ladybug Miraculous was supposed to unshackle them both. If she had done so earlier, it could have been different. If Adrien had spoken up later, it would have been different. But Ladybug knew nothing about Chat Noir except the heart he had always laid bare, and that was of her own doing. If Marinette passes him in the street, they will both keep going, none the wiser, the culmination of all their self-imposed secrets. She has nothing to go on. No name, no circumstance, no poorly-disguised hint, as she suspects he has tried to leave before. Chat Noir had become better at following her rules than she, and Marinette had so recently been simultaneously proud of him for it—and resented him too. It doesn’t sink in until several quiet nights later, when she and Adrien are tucked together on his couch, the soft blues and grays of his chosen film flashing across his screen. She is never going to see Chat Noir again.

rest your head (upon my shoulder)

i love this one so much. sometimes i go back and read it to myself because it gives me the exact toe-curling pining i always crave. i like to think of it as one of those "so close but so far away" stories - one of my favorite brands of angst.

summary: Ladybug can save Chat Noir from anything, except what he doesn't tell her. excerpt: “I don’t think there will be any Akuma attacks for a while.” She frowned, but he leaned back, staring up at the starless sky through the leaves of the tree hanging overhead.  Something was wrong. She could feel it lingering over him, heavy like suspended rain. “Chaton?” “I had this dream the other night,” he said, gazing over the roof of the Musée. “We grew wings without needing anything—no macarons, no magic words, no Miraculous. And then we just…took off. I don’t really remember where we went, but it was beautiful.”  His eyes slid to hers once more, unnaturally bright. Her blood rushed with unbidden heat and she reminded herself why she had stopped sitting in dark, quiet places alone with Chat Noir. 

borealis green

a feligami oneshot! this covers the time between "pretension" and "representation" and is probably one of my only canon-compliant au's. i really like writing kagami's pov so this was super fun!

summary: Getting to know Felix is easier than Kagami anticipated, especially as he keeps following her. excerpt: “Goodnight, Félix,” she whispers, though she does not need to. Nobody is around to hear them. No one is watching them. It is only a taste of the freedom he promised her, and yet it sinks into her with the softness of the street lights and the prickle of the night air.  “Can I see you again?” he asks, just as softly.  She has exactly nine minutes to walk back to the ikebana studio where Tatsu will be waiting to transport her home. She can make it if she walks fast. She can linger a few moments longer if she runs. The vertigo crescendos as she remains in place, watching the gleam of headlights flash in his eyes as cars speed past.  “You should go home,” Kagami tells him, holding his gaze. “It’s not safe for you in Paris.” Félix tilts his head in acknowledgement, but the corners of his mouth turn up. “No,” he agrees. “It isn’t.”

mirror image

another post-s5 fic centered on adrien & felix, but with a twin telepathy twist. it's kind of like my r&r time for fic, easy and cathartic and a fun break for me between other projects!

summary: The voice in Adrien’s head is strangely familiar. It also tells him the truth (when no one else will). excerpt: You are hearing things, the voice said as though in answer. Doesn’t mean I’m not real. Adrien reached for the silver chain around his neck, his fist closing around the two rings resting warm against his sternum. “As real as me?” Yes, idiot, the voice replied with a bite. As real as you. “That’s not what some people would say,” Adrien replied, not caring if the voice was annoyed. It was his head, after all. Well, what would you rather be? The voice plowed on, unbothered by Adrien’s ire. Born of magic, or born of Gabriel Agreste?

ty for the ask kayla 💛 love me some self-promotion. hope y'all enjoy!

[annbott]

Fell’s Backstory (See “I’m Writing My Story Anyway” for who she is please-)

Part One

Memories. They’re slippery if you don’t know how to properly hold on to them. Some memories stay regardless of whether you were holding them or not. Regardless of whether you wanted them or not. You can try to forget, and perhaps even succeed for a blissful while, but they’re like the rash that keeps coming back, each time more painful than the last. At least that’s how it was for me. That’s how it’s always been and how it will forever be.

It’s the same dream from when I was four years old. This was the dream I had the day I lost my mother. I was standing in a field of camellias, her favorite kind of flower. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and began carefully navigating through the field of camellias, each step a whispered promise not to disturb the delicate blooms my mother once cherished. I look up, and my gaze is instinctively drawn to a figure atop a small hill nearby. She is draped in a mesmerizing green dress, its loose fabric swaying with the rhythm of the gentle summer breeze. Her presence adds an ethereal charm to the already enchanting scene, as if she were a natural extension of the blossoming landscape surrounding us. She was exactly as I remembered her. The epitome of elegance and beauty.

My careful treading shifted to one of careless urgency, causing a storm of emotions to swirl within me, each one a bittersweet echo of the mother I lost yet hold in memory. There is pain, a lingering ache that never ceases, a reminder of the love that still binds us across the chasm of time. Longing pulls at my soul, drawing me towards the figure atop the hill, my feet seeming to know exactly where to step. Grief, heavy and profound, felt like ruthless and relentless waves. And anger, a flickering flame in the recesses of my soul, flares at the injustice of a fate that stole her from me before I could fully understand the depth of her presence. Anger is dangerous. And powerful. Don’t ever let it consume you. I thought desperately, fighting to extinguish the flame just beginning to burn from my left eye, when I heard her speak.

“Fell,”

I froze, staring at my mother, completely dumbfounded. Had she ever called me anything other than Regan? And her voice didn’t sound right. It sounded more like-

“Fell!”

This time she raised her voice, sounding annoyed, an uncharacteristic tone for her to have. I squinted at her, wondering if I looked as confused as I felt. Her grey eyes flicked over to mine, and I was horrified at the lack of emotion in them. It wasn’t until she yelled that I woke up.

“Fell! Wake up!” _________________________________________

My head shot up from my pillow and I, still confused and panicked from my dream, turned toward the source of the yell, my hand curled into a fist and thrusted into the stomach of the girl before I could stop myself. She stumbled back in surprise, eyes wide, letting out a howl of pain, and I felt an immediate stab of shame. “Ann! I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was you!” I cried, throwing the covers off of myself and crouching down to be level with Ann, her arms crossed tightly over her abdomen, her unkempt hair covering half of her face. What almost made this worse was that rather than looking like she was in pain, which she clearly was, she wore an expression of pure outrage. “I would have appreciated it if Blueberry mentioned that the first thing you do when you wake up is punch the shit out of someone.” She mumbled through gritted teeth. I only shook my head at that, gently separating her arms from her stomach and straightening her. I allowed my flame to heal whatever damage I might have caused, hoping it would at least ease Ann’s annoyance. It appeared to work. She relaxed as the gentle flame worked its magic. Ann sounded like she was saying something, but it was hard to tell. I was thinking about my dream. Why did it pop up again after twenty two years? Perhaps my mother wanted to tell me something? I tried to dig through my memories, looking for an event that could have triggered the dream to come up again. “Uh, Fell? Are you listening to me?” I was abruptly brought back to reality when Ann tugged at the sleeve of my worn T-shirt. “I apologize, what happened?” I asked, offering her a soft smile to show I was listening. Ann arched her brow. She knew something was up. Which meant she wasn’t going to drop it. Lovely. “What was it you wanted to say?” I prompted. “I was just saying that Blueberry has food ready, and you know that she doesn’t let anyone eat until everyone is there,” Ann added, “Which is problematic for two people in particular.” Well, then that means she won’t have time to interrogate, I thought, feeling slightly relieved. I flicked my hand slightly, and the flame went out. Ann, understanding the silent signal, left the room to make her way downstairs. But I didn’t follow her immediately. Instead, I opened one of the drawers from a small storage chest and plucked one of the photos of my mother and I, just months before she died. I brought my hand up to the orange and red checkered scarf around my neck, a habit that I couldn’t seem to break whenever I looked at these photos. I stared at the photo for a few moments more before making my way downstairs, the bickering already beginning. And I was unsure of whether today would be easy or not..

To be continued!

Wow! That was a bit different for me! But I think it was a fun experience, as I’m used to writing through Ann’s perspective (I probably wouldn’t say writing though. It was always roleplaying. (；ω；) ] I hope you liked it, I’ve been really interested for a long time as to what Fell’s backstory is, and now that I know, I hope you’ll be just as interested! Thanks for sticking though with me! I’ll have part 2 soon, I promise-

[aesterea]

I fell in love for the first time. I think it'll tear me apart because that's what it did to my parents, but I think I'll let it

hi anon 💙

i’m sorry i took so long to respond to this. i had to spend a long time thinking about it. i don't know how much you really wanted from me, but you have my thoughts here under the cut nonetheless. 

first, i want to say i’m so happy for you! i think falling in love is one of the best, most wonderful things in life—for the feeling of it and for all the doors it opens. the first time especially, it cracks us open. it introduces us to new parts of ourselves and changes the way we see the world. i think that’s why it’s so terrifying; it asks us to transform. 

there’s so much vulnerability required in that process. and we know it doesn't always (or often) go well. those of us who grew up with examples of particularly bad relationships tend to be especially wary. 

when i was younger, i fully believed love was some kind of delusion that drove people to behave stupidly, and that all romantic relationships were hurtling toward some terrible end—the utter destruction of those involved, some miserable facade of companionship that left them feeling hollow, or (at best) a disenchantment that eventually freed them from the delusion. i wasn’t afraid of falling in love so much as i rejected it… still, when it happened… everything i thought i knew—about life and about myself—exploded like a star.

you sent such a short message, but it reminds me so much of myself. “i think it’ll tear me apart” and “i think i’ll let it.” i want to reach out and hug you, and i want to sit with you for six hours talking over hot chocolate. there's so much i wish i could say to my younger self, but at least i can share some of it with you, and i know we’re different people and your path will be different from mine, but maybe it can help you.

i think the worst mistake i ever made was to cross my own boundaries. i don’t think there’s any chance of overstating how much hope is involved when you fall for someone. the optimism and idealism (and the rarely-mentioned boost in courage) inherent in the experience makes us more willing to risk pain (longing, loss, betrayal…). i also don't think there’s any chance of real love without a willingness to get hurt, and all important relationships involve difficult emotions. but i have this dangerous tendency of thinking, “love is so precious, and now that i have it, i’ll do anything to make it work.” or even, “i love you so much, i’ll forgive anything if we can keep trying to work together.” that stubbornness and desperation and fear of loss… it’s poisonous. i’ve been hurt in a lot of ways, but the worst heartbreak did not come from loss or betrayal or even someone treating me badly—it was the sense that i had betrayed myself. healing is so much harder when you're wondering if you can trust yourself, because no matter how things go, you're the one who has to get you through.

maybe you’ll get hurt. we always run that risk. maybe you’ll be happier than you ever knew was possible. we just don't know! but you must be able to trust yourself to set and enforce boundaries, and if you find that your relationship is damaging to you, then you must be willing to walk away. 

i don’t meant to scare you or preach to you or anything. if this isn't what you wanted, i hope you will forgive me. i’m 22 years old and still figuring it out—i certainly have no great wisdom to share. it’s just… “i think i’ll let it.” your words resonate so deeply within me, it feels wrong not to offer you what i’ve learned. what i’m learning. 

i don't want to discourage you at all from embracing all the magic of the experience. the warm, happy glow, the lightness and the weight, how the world becomes more beautiful around you. feeling so safe, you want to sink down, curl up, and sleep inside the feeling. at the same time, feeling so happy, giddy, sparkly, all you want to do is laugh and dance. finally understanding all those songs and books and movies, and marveling at all the feelings you didn't think you’d ever feel, didn’t know you could feel, and suddenly becoming aware of how much the world has to offer you… there is nothing quite like this. 

[wyvchard]

Idea from this prompt by @words-on-pa-per

Content Warnings: Exhaustion, guilt tripping, arguments, past trauma, troubled friendships

“I’m here for you.” Red eyes softened as he approached his best friend who was clearly way out of her depth with her projects, or whatever it is that had been going on in her normally chaotic life.

“But you aren’t. You’ll talk to me for a few minutes, but if I need time, or help, or any actual support, you’re gonna tap out. Everyone does.” She turned away, focusing on stabbing the fabric with her needle. Something about his concerned eyes felt foreign, unreal. 'It has to be fake. It has to be. But why does it sting when I think of his concern that way?'

He paused, watching her purple eyes evade him with the choice to hide behind her pink hair. "That's not true at all."

She merely turned away her body to focus on her task. "... I forgot. Of course you can be there. But you're not really there, are you?" Her eyes met him, the red swirls that pull people in were stirring venom. "You wouldn't understand. After all, you're immortal. I'm merely functionally ageless but mortal nonetheless."

"Even if, I still care about you. Let me be there for you. I don't plan to be like the others in your past. Didn't you say we should live in the present more?"

"... That's because you're not like the friends I had in my past. Death takes them away from me. They tap out that way, at least the genuine ones. But you? You're immortal. You'd get bored of me, just like the others who treat me more like an agent than a person. They never give me actual support. How can I be sure you're not like them at all when the same thing that makes them up will surely be not that different from yours? "For you, the years are just a few minutes, right? It's fleeting. Maybe even entertaining for you to watch me struggle."

"... Don't lump me in with them." He appraoched her, carrying a blanket to wrap her shoulders. The warmth from his fire magic adding to the comfort he wanted her to feel. "Some do care, still."

"... I don't know if their kindness is for their own benefit, or for mine." She fired a small whip of water to stop his approach. "You're not giving me a comfort blanket this time. Leave me alone."

"I'm not leaving you alone. You're clearly spiraling down. Come on, please? Just... go out with me or something. Anything. This place isn't good for your right now."

"It's clean. And tidy. I don't get what you're getting at." She gently placed the embroidery ring on the table to look at him. "I'm a functioning adult."

"Your eyes tell me the opposite. You're 'functioning' but you're clearly running on fumes. Come on."

"... You never accepted my help when you were in a slump. Why should I accept yours?" Her eyes narrowed at him. "Is it because I'm a mortal? I'd never understand your pain? Is that it?" She got up from her seat to cross her eyes, head tilting up slightly to make sure he knew just what exactly is going through her mind.

The hand that outstretched to meet her fell down, only to clench tightly. "... It's not like that. I don't want to be a burden to you."

"Exactly. I feel the same way. So just cut me off when I'm working myself to death. It doesn't matter. You have time to find someone exactly like me."

"Stop it. Please, just stop. You're clearly..."

"You do the same. You think it doesn't affect me? Doesn't make me stay up at night thinking how I can help. Wow! You're such a great friend. Thank you so much for reminding me at how much of a pathetic, powerless mortal I really am!"

"That's enough!" He held onto her shoulders and stared at her. "... I never thought of you that way. I didn't want to taint you. I didn't want you to get involved in my burdens because I'm the one who's supposed to help. I should be the stronger one and yet I'm asking you for help? Don't be like this. I didn't want to ruin you."

"So you think I'm too weak to get involved in your business, huh?"

"What? No! It's just that-" he paused, wiping the tears falling down her face. "I wanted to be the friend who helps you, not hold you back. And helping me will."

"That's not true."

"And neither are the thoughts in your head."

He held her close in his embrace, making sure to pat her head.

But they both know it's only a temporary fix. He hopes to find the permanent, she hopes he wouldn't burden himself with it.

[autisticlee]

I need a friend (or maybe actually a life partner) thats super consistent/scheduled, not flaky, probably not disabled with unpredictable flare ups/energy issues, someone with energy who can plan and get stuff done. because I cannot do it myself. I need someone very close who is like this so they can help me do things I want or need to do. come over in the morning to exercise like go for a walk or swim or kayak. come over to help me make food when they realize I forgot to eat. come over and help me change my bed sheets. sit with me while I work on something and keep me focused or help me get done easier. plan a time to hang out or go somewhere and be here at that exact time instead of forgetting or canceling.

I NEED consistency in my life. I cannot provide it for myself. I know there's people out there who are like this. the autism in me craves it. but the adhd in me rejects it and always wins no matter how hard I try. having unpredictable physical flare ups doesn't help. trying doesn't do anything. people make it clear to me that it doesn't look like I try at all. that proves how useless trying has been. I need an external force that is beyond my control. alarms and reminders are in my control so they never work. I can't be consistent with myself and flake out on myself, beyond my control. but when it comes to other people, i'll push through and stick to things for their sake. I need a separate entity that has more control over the situation. someone to do with me and not just "remind" me. but also someone that won't push me too hard or let me push myself too hard. remind me to stop and drink/eat. don't let me push through pain. remind me it's ok to rest. etc.

but finding consistent people is so hard. I can't seem to do it. I only find and attract flaky, inconsistent people. I don't know what i'm supposed to do about it. they want me to be their consistent, nonflaky friend that they can flake out on. i'm told i'm always there for them whenever they need me, and they appreciate it. but I can never say the same about them.

no one wants to help me or "hold my hand" mostly because they can't even help themsleves and expect me to do everything for them, but also people who could help just dont like or care about me enough. i'm a burden to people who don't care or value me enough. I need someone to magically care so much about me that they enjoy being my solid pillar of consistency, support, and companionship. they wake up and WANT to see me immediately, so they come over and wake me up to make breakfast and go for a walk and do chores at their house together and etc.

you can't just wait and they will show up like a pokemon you can catch and turn into your loyal companion. you can't just make someone like you. but I don't know how to make anyone like me/find people who like me for who I am and don't have the energy and spoons endlessly sort through everyone in the world for the chance of finding one i also like and feel comfortable with. I need a person that either doesn't cost energy to interact with or somehow gives energy. that'd so hard to find.

I do try, though. but it takes at least a month or two to recover from the energy and effort it takes to reach out to a single person, especially since it's me doing most of the work. so the process is slow and is wasting my life away. I don't care about the possible "one day" because i'm struggling NOW. thinking about "one day" hasn't helped improve my life one but over the past 15 years or more, i've been told "one day"

it seems to be all about either luck or being privileged to have the energy and right personality to attract the right people. I have none of those things. so I just continue to struggle to exist within my own chaos alone. merely barely surviving and not at all living.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝

[𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫] avior

a/n: this fic does contain spoilers for sovereign state season one finale that literally just dropped so if you haven’t listened to it go listen and then come back

this strange unknown place is dark with red undertones with fire and smoke spreading across random areas and to be quite honest it’s really reminding you of the netherworld in minecraft. the thought alone somehow scares you more since you never got the guts to go to it in the game.

you hear a groan and look to find the source— a demon lays on the ground a few feet from you. all you can remember is him bumping into and apologizing profusely before you opened your eyes to find yourself in whatever place this is.

“what the actual fuck?” avior groans holding his head while sitting up, his head was throbbing in pain but he can’t remember if he hit his head on something. he looks up to take in his surroundings suddenly noticing that he is not in Arya, he doesn’t know where he is.

“this isn’t arya”

then his eyes lock with yours, startling you enough you unconsciously take a few steps back. avior doesn’t even think before he speaks.

“and where ever i am, you shouldn’t be here, not through my rift. who the hell are you?”

“i—i uh um” you try to think of the right words to form a response but you just end up blurting out your name.

“nice name” he scoffs. “now, care to explain why the fuck we are?”

you’re baffled at his very bold accusation.

“if i didn’t know any better it sounds like you think this is my fault” the statement comes out more angrily then you’d like, but he simply laughs at you.

“why shouldn’t i talk to you like this is your fault? i have no clue who you are and while i was trying to escape a particular sticky situation, you somehow ended up in my rift with me and instead of it taking me home and you to an early oblivion it takes us here. where ever the hell here is.” he says with an almost condescending tone.

he sighs before speaking again, something he likes to do apparently.

“while we’re at it, hell seems to be a fitting title.” he stands and walks to look over the edge to take in the view. “what is this?”

you’ve decided to keep your distance from this unknown demon, unsure if he’s the cause of this situation you find yourself in.

“so do i get to know your name or is this a situation where only one of us knows the others name?”

“avior, i’m an inchoate demon”

“in know it?” avior lets a out a frustrated sigh.

“inchoate. i-n-c-h-o-a-t-e, brush up on your vocabulary or your demon classifications, which ever you prefer”

before you’re able to ask what exactly an inchoate demon is he cuts you off with the definition.

“it means i’m the demonic equivalent to one of you humans freelancer, i’m fueled by any kind of energy from your kind, i’m not specialized.”

“you must like the sound of your own voice huh?” you mumble.

“excuse me?” he scoffs.

“i’m saying you talk a lot” you speak louder so he can hear you this time. “jeez it’s just like ‘me me me!’ let me at least introduce myself properly before you go on a tangent, you walking thesaurus.”

avior is a bit taken aback by you, he’s never had anyone—let alone a human, talk to him like this.

“you know i don’t exactly need the attitude from someone who caused this in the first place”

“caused this? you still think i did this?! what makes you think i did this?!” you don’t mean to come off so rude but you cannot believe that he still thinks this is your fault.

“well for starters you’re aura is different from other magic welders, your connection seems organic”

“organic? you trying to insult me or something? cause it’s working”

“god you’re toilsome”

“big words only make me more angry” avior lets out another frustrated sigh.

“you. are. difficult.”

“oh like you’re so easy to deal with” you huff and cross your arms across your chest. “why are we here anyway? i have to support my friends at the academy games today. how long do you think we’ll be stuck in here for?”

“do you always ask so many questions?”

“i don’t know, do you always sound so sarcastic?”

avior lets out another groan, he’s beyond frustrated that he’s trapped with what seems to be the human equivalent of a twenty questions game.

“let’s be civil with each other here, we don’t know how long we’ll be stuck for.”

“fine.” there’s a pregnant pause between the two of you before you speak again. “so what was the ‘sticky situation’ you were trying to escape from?”

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

i heard this song and i was like this is literally made for starlight

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[galindathegay]

My old self-harm tricks are coming back into play. If I don't have anything to busy my hands with, my finger nails seek to create crescent-shaped bloodmarks into whatever patch of skin is easily accessible. I hate it.

Last night I had a particularly horrible meltdown. Something Joe (unintentionally) said and did triggered a memory, which happens to be my Achilles heel. Devon provided a distraction to help me calm down because otherwise I would have clawed myself to pieces. (Have I mentioned I fucking love him?) Afterward, Joe and I were able to come to an understanding. Things were normal from there.

This morning, though, I had a very stupid idea. I can't harm myself - it's not allowed - but I can harm something else. A punching bag, for example. But...Joe had told me a while ago that he was built like a tank. He could handle pain. So...I asked Joe if I could test my self-harm trick on him. He needed to be honest about how it felt, though.

Joe said yes.

I found the tenderest part of his arm and dug in as deep as I could. And then I pushed further - because if I couldn't feel it, I needed to at least mimic the muscle memory.

I asked him how he felt.

He blushed. "Honestly? Kinda turned on."

...The fuck?

He reminded me that he's a martial artist. He comes home from classes with massive, dark bruises all over his body for fun and is fine the next day.

He also reminded me that between his father and the woman who falsely accused him of sexual assault, his mind was a fortress. And then he said the magic words.

"There is literally nothing you can do that will hurt me. You've tried."

I just... How did I get so lucky to get two people who are literally perfect for me. I hate the idea of causing any sort of pain to anyone in my life, but fuck it. If they have strengths, I want to lean into them. Devon is Soft Boy. Joe is Tank. I need both of them to survive this world, it seems.

They are both getting so many kisses to make up for this, jfc.

[psalloacappella]

Anodyne - for Sasuke Retsuden Week 2022

Pairing: SasuSaku Prompt: Day 2 - Time Stops (For Us) Title: Anodyne Vibes/Tags/CW: AU; Magical Realism; Unreliable Narrator; Blood/Violence; Magic Forest; time is a construct 

Time does not seek forward and back, but sifts endlessly, emergent, everywhere all at once. 

Sasuke gets lost, and Sakura is found — perhaps, though, it’s the other way ‘round.

This is a love story, one that anyone can tell. Ao3 | twt | FFN | @ssretsudenweek22

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But I must confess, I did it all for myself; I gathered you here to hide from some vast, unnameable fear.

— No Choir, Florence + the Machine

I. 

The sensation rocks him skull to heels, seconds before the actual sound pops — a savage crack wrenches the air apart, a ragged, violent riff on the dank forest chill. Heat torches it first, skewering his shoulder; then cold, prickling with a heady buzz.

Bullets take no prisoners, and the understanding comes a nanosecond after:

Uchiha Sasuke realizes he’s been shot.

Utterly alone in a strange, ancient wood on a ridiculous hike precipitated by an unraveling, a crisis. Of course, despite doing all the right things like wearing a garish orange jacket to ward off wayward hunters and making sure to trek the abandoned trail with friends — as if they would have actually ever been able to fight off bears or other predatory animals, packing snacks and following tracks and weighed down with flares, flares — !

Swinging his pack off with a grunt, the movement makes him dizzy, that massive adrenaline dump usually following trauma arriving on schedule. He lands on hands and knees in the mud, and his collapse releases unsettling and rich terroir smells, hazy through the overwhelming and coppery tang of his blood pouring inside out.

Rooting desperately, fingers fumbling with zippers and velcro flaps, digging and seeking and he chokes, throat tightening at the pain starting to seep through the adrenaline’s cloaked protection. He is so stupid, he could have gone skydiving or drunk himself comatose in a bathtub or any number of normal crises but he was convinced to come find his heart and soul on an adventurous camping trip after his family’s arranged marriage for him fell through. Leave it to his dumb best friend to convince him.

His fingers shake and hitch momentarily before closing with relief around the flare. Red:  Emergency, immediate assistance needed.

He flicks his thumbnail under the cap and it arcs, landing in the pulpy soil. For a moment, it’s a beacon against the loamy brown, sitting lonely in the mud. Snatching it up, he gasps against the wave of encroaching pain; it’s starting to puncture the defensive cloak of adrenaline shock. Curling his fingers into a fist around the plastic, his knuckles pop and sing. He startles at a strange, low wounding sound reminding him of lonely, winter-stranded animals, before registering that it’s coming from him.

He pulls the scratch of the flare cap across the black, rough strip. Nothing. Strength dwindling fast and pain spreading swiftly, he swipes it again in anger, crying out.

Breathing shallower.

It happens too fast for him to perceive properly, and one bullet whizzes by so close he can swear it tickles his cheek, and then,

perhaps it’s lucky another one hits true, aiming to take him out of this misery.

Lodging itself less accurately than the first, the impact a glancing blow against his left shoulder.  He sways, suspended in a crystallized microsecond of agony before the ground rises up to meet him without mercy and he lands facedown. He fades in and out, tasting blood, the pinch of smoke, and his own sweat.

Footsteps in the mud squelch toward him, heavy but with a sense of urgency. A mistake, Sasuke mouths into the forest floor — a mistake. Blood, liquid and loose in his mouth. Tries to cough and clear it but the attempt makes him nearly blind with pain. At least one person, maybe three? His mind is scrambling, spinning, fighting off nearly three decades of memories all spilling into frayed milliseconds of impending doom.

“Hmm, human. Didn't expect that.”

Someone else groans and he can sense they are closer, grumbling in tones bearing the weight of physical work and hard years.

“Flip him over.”

And someone does — not gently, and with his boot, lifting and then kicking to roll him over the rest of the way.

Well, there go his hopes.

Two men stand on either side of him, making Sasuke feel as though he’s at the bottom of an endless well, drowning and all. With the view of the forest trees fluttering at the edges of pain and panic, he groans against the threat of unconsciousness tugging, its claws too close.

He registers these strangers’ details in flashes of barely managed understanding: Boots for difficult terrain, thick wool coats knit for the forest's endless chill. Both carrying an ease and familiarity with the whispering woods surrounding them. Left man shoulders his rifle onto his back, tilts his head with a sour grimace and blinks his strangely filmy, vacant eyes. Right man picks an unruly nail and, nostrils flaring, kicks Sasuke in his side again, and none too lightly.

The man on the left:  “Ah, we may be in trouble for this one.”

His counterpart: “‘We?!’ Neji, you shot him!”

“What do you mean ‘you shot him’?” This voice is new.

Sasuke cries out at least as much in frustration as pain; he’s sure he’ll bleed out before these imbeciles complete their ridiculous conversation. Eyes falling closed against what might be his first unvarnished taste of the pain, goodbye adrenaline, his body bucks and his hand flies to his shoulder. Immediately soaked and thick with blood, he tries to staunch it, teeth gnashing, seething all the while.

Someone new enters the clearing, casting a strange and spectral hush. Sounds defined now only in their reverberating absence, the gut sensation of missing a step down the stairs. Twittering birds, moaning and majestic trunks of trees, the ululating, sharp wind. All smothered, vanished, perhaps scattered by the twined scents of cherry and smoke, of steps crackling the leaves underfoot, fluttering and light and, if his soul wasn’t being wrung of blood via two bullet holes, he’d like to look upon this specter, drawn to its strangeness.

Inhuman. Asked later, he would not be able to give words or shape to this kernel of knowledge, only surety running in deep fjords in his very bones.

Sasuke senses close movement, his body shakes with simultaneous heat and chill.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t—”

A soft sound of rustling fabric —

“— touch him,” Neji sighs.

And Sasuke feels delicate fingers on his cheek. A woman’s? Slight callouses, skincatch and gone.

If he does one final thing before he dies, he needs to open his eyes.

“I’ll have to, if I want to ensure he lives. How could you?”

“According to the genius here,” and Neji’s chilly tone slides into clipped arrogance, sharpening each syllable, “there was no question it was animal game.”

“Imbeciles.” There’s no doubt she’s muttered it a million times before.

Sasuke’s breathing shifts, bursting in gasps now, shallower in each one passing, and she taps his cheek gently. In a low voice she asks, “Can you tell me your name, sir?” Her hands move quickly, seeking a pulse in the hollow of his neck, fingers pressing the wound between his to help along the pressure.

In his dying haze, a flutter in his gut. Flicker and fear, and something yawning and dark.

He tries to oblige her request, but of course, there’s blood backing up into his throat. It comes out as choking and bubbling instead.

“Need to move a little faster,” she mutters, seemingly to herself. Patting his fingers with a fairylight, sticky touch of blood, she removes her hands and he’s oddly desperate; but then, that could simply be the response to not wanting to die on the ground alone.

There’s whispering, and he wonders if hallucinations are standard exhalations of the body in crisis. Odd and serpentine, skinsmears on bark, open your eyes open your eyes open your eyes —

With a last burst of desperation, Sasuke does.

Again, such frantic and chaotic processing: Glassgreen eyes, pursed lips that now part slightly at the sight of him, silk pink hair braided into a plait, the lengthy end strands tumbling in milky-way formlessness against the forest floor. Whispers from nowhere override his common sense, and his bloody hand leaves his shoulder wound and lunges for her black cloak instead, dragging her close.

Blood flows freely, and it’s the least of his worries. The voices go quiet.

She looks stricken by his sudden movements, and there seems to be words on the apex of her lips that she swallows deeply, down, locking a secret and eating the key. Instead, with a little shake of her head, she says firmly, “We’ll have to put him out.”

Neji frowns; the tracker shows pointed teeth.

“Are you sure?”

“If you’d shot an animal and it was hurt, half-alive, would you drag it all over creation, prolonging its suffering?”

Whereas Neji has the grace to deliberate it, or at least pretend to, the tracker shrugs and unearths his own rifle, flipping it around to brandish the gunstock end.

“Sorry pal. Doctor’s orders.”

A strange electricity and snapcrackle in the air. Sakura carefully loosens Sasuke’s fingers from her cloak.

“H-Help me!”

Something flickers in her expression at his outburst. The smile stretching her beautiful lips is strained, a mask that doesn’t quite fit.

“We will, don’t worry, sir.”

She leans in, closes the distance, and the seconds stretch to years. Her fingers lift his dark hair from his perspiring forehead, graze his ear, his chin, and she directs his face to hers, squinting into his dark eyes.

Is this dying, the harrowing second of every nerve and neuron misfiring while collapsing into every single, finespun memory he’s ever known? These fierce and forest eyes beholding his last gasps?

Sasuke feels faint; he feels beloved.

The doctor’s companions step forward as she retreats, fingers trailing off his bloodsoaked chin as she murmurs,

“You really don’t want to be awake for this part.”

Pain splits his face wide open, scattering stars in his vision only to be swiftly blotted out by blackest night.

.

.

.

Slivers of senses at first:  The muted tap of a pen on paper, lifted and placed down again with intention, dots of i’s and the scrape of t’s. A sigh into silence.

Groaning, heavy boots on thick wood floors, a comfortable call and response. The uncanny sensation of deja vu; routines for years.

Starchy sheets, clean-bleached and tugging the sensitive hairs on the skin of his arms, and finally,

the sunlight blooms with the shift of time, pulling him to full consciousness with a jolt as the midday beam falls across his eyes. He opens them.

It takes Sasuke a long minute to realize where he is, what’s happened. Ideally, it would have been a vivid dream. But, no, the heaviness of his head and stiffness in his limbs and the dry, acrid aftertaste of blood in his mouth cements his reality. He’s lying on a cot in a brick room of sorts. The floor is chilly, the atmosphere damp, air tasting of silt.

“I think he’s awake,” the woman — doctor? — says, more to herself than to her companion. She doesn’t stop writing, doesn’t break pace.

The latter has a rifle lying across his knees, wearing the same canine-sharp grin.

Sasuke’s vision finally adjusts, and he realizes he’s staring at this doctor and wild tracker from behind iron bars.

The doctor follows his gaze, which is warily fixed on the weapon, and continues. “Please understand, no one will be hurting you here. We’ve just . . . never had this happen before. Visitors, yes . . . in this circumstance, well.” She smiles gently, tilts her head; Sasuke’s stomach swoops for reasons unknown. “You’re certainly the most handsome stranger we’ve had in a long while.”

Sasuke muses on her quip of long while as he observes this doctor can’t be a day over twenty-eight.

“Don't let Hyuuga hear you say that,” the tracker quips, picking his teeth with a fingernail that looks more claw than human. “He styles himself the prettiest.”

The doctor sighs, shrugging her endless pink plait over a shoulder. Finally, she puts down the pen.

“Handsome, meet Inuzuka. Resident tracker of game and apparently, occasional humans. Inuzuka, meet—?”

Feeling on the spot, Sasuke remembers his born and bred manners and valiantly struggles to a sitting position despite his slinged left arm. Glowering at Inuzuka and his compensating weapon, he instead tries to meet the doctor’s eyes.

Wild and green, layered as the forest Sasuke’s quite sure they’re surrounded by. There’s curiosity there, a sharp intelligence, and —

something tugging under his ribs, there and then gone. Staring instead at her long pink braid, he inclines his head politely and clears the blood and phlegm out of his throat before answering.

“Sasuke. Uchiha Sasuke.”

Careful not to hang on her gaze too long, he sees a brightness flicker, her lips twisting. Hiding a smile, something. Even in this dank cell, miles from home, shot twice, in an objectively bad situation, he’s feeling a strange heat and it is certainly not a fever.

“I’m Doctor Haruno,” she offers, rising from her chair. “But my first name is Sakura.”

As she comes to a stop outside the cell, watching him through the bars, he wonders what she’s given him that he’s not feeling a bit of pain. Who knew they had great medicine this deep in the wildwood? Named after a flower — fitting, he thinks, but his eyes don’t miss a beat as she rifles through her white coat’s pockets and locates the jail keys.

“H-hey,” Inuzuka stammers, “you’re just letting him out?”

Sakura waves her hand over her shoulder, smiling kindly as she enters the key into the lock. “Go find Hyuuga and tell him it’s all right. Don’t let him sulk.”

Grumbling, Inuzuku leaves as she opens the cell door and comes inside without preamble, sitting next to Sasuke’s cot on the floor. Unearthing a small flashlight and stethoscope from nowhere, she begins to poke and prod him gently, checking his vision, feeling his forehead.

“I removed both bullets,” she begins, “and cleaned you up. Sleep and time are the true healers, and you’ve been out for, oh, a couple days.” Sasuke blanches, and Sakura pats his cheek gently. “You’ve missed nothing important, I promise. You have all the time in the world here.” She taps a slim finger on his sternum with questioning eyes. “May I?”

Anxious electricity in his hands, dancing with delight on the merry way down his spine. She’s hard to look too closely at — but then, he’s never been quite good at romanticism, at vulnerability, at being anything but a stubborn ass who ultimately couldn’t even hang on to the good woman his family had hoped he’d marry.

He’s sorry, but still relieved.

“Sorry, cold hands.” The ghost of a nervous laugh, more from the throat than her lips, as her hands steal beneath the hem of his shirt and the metal bell touches his chest. But it’s warm, all of it, all of her.

He’s acutely aware of how little he’s speaking, how a man in this situation should have more questions. How little he cares about where he is now that he’s here. Clearing his throat again to delay,

“Haruno — erm, Doctor —”

“You can call me Sakura.”

“Hmm. Ma’am?”

“Miss,” she corrects. “I’m only twenty-eight, sir.”

“Ah. Then can we dispense with ‘sir?’”

“I think that’s fair,” she says. Those green eyes gleam, playful, sinking him in unknown heat. She moves the bell to various places on his chest, as if searching for something.

“Where am I, exactly?”

“A small town outside the hiking woods. We’re a quiet place. Some people move through town for a day or two, simply needing a break. Others leave difficult things behind, like hard lives or tough circumstances, and decide they would like to stay.”

Sakura goes still for a moment, unblinking, as a game animal pauses and points in pursuit. The nod to herself is imperceptible, and she untangles herself from him and his shirt, folding the stethoscope tails over themselves.

That unexplained warmth flees, dissipates, as she retreats.

“What was it?” Sasuke asks. A long beat, and he watches as she slips a moment into a momentary sojourn to a painful past. Where he gets the familiarity, the notion to tap her arm, he doesn’t know, but when accompanied with an urgent, low, “Hey, Sakura,” she rejoins him on earth.

“Nothing,” she says, embarrassed. Indicating the stethoscope in her hand, she repeats, “nothing there. All good.”

Now bustling, woman on a mission, she’s on her feet, all business again. “This town can be prickly on the outside, a bit insular. Those who do stay, do so for a long time. Please don’t be surprised if people take a while to warm up to you. It’s not their fault.” Now it’s she who doesn’t seem to look him right in the eyes. “There’s . . . a lot of people trying to heal.”

Sasuke thinks on the last time he was in his family’s home, waiting in the main corridor outside his parents’ drawing room to break the news, that yet again he could not do this, could not marry, could not find it in himself to act halfway human, always spurning their carefully-laid plans and choices for him. Except he had been beaten to the punch, his fiancee’s crimson eyes eating him alive as she stalked past him on the way out, setting him on fire in the vile way, the devil-drag-me-down way, nothing left in them but venom.

She’d left the door cracked open, the red carpet rolled out to plead his case and confess his mess.

Several arguments later, he found himself crammed in a car on the way to his camping crisis adventure with nothing but a rucksack and his guilt, the unending sound of his best friend droning in his ear. Trying to shake off the old, cling to a new north star.

Finding himself lulled by the sea eyes of this stranger, he can’t shake the same sweet sensation of fire. Not in the way of resentment, in which one side aches and the other takes — this, here, is a precipice, a loving and mutually assured destruction.

“I’m assuming until you’re better,” Sakura says, “you’ll be needing a place to recuperate. There’s a room above the bar where most newcomers stop first, but I’ll be frank with you, they’re going to be wary of a strange man.”

Sasuke forces his feet underneath him, crouched, intent on standing, and Sakura kneels to assist, frowning. Irritated, he waves her off and she obliges his stubbornness with a shake of her head and an impatient tuh!, leaning against the iron bars and folding her arms. Typical patient behavior, and he’s made acutely aware of his weakness when he makes it to a standing position, sways, and catches his weight by throwing his good arm across the bars, bracing himself.

Looming over her, breathing heavy, unbearably close.

He doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until the serpentine voices return,

open your eyes open your eyes open your eyes,

and her beautiful mouth closes around the phrase at the exact same time in an echo,

“Sasuke, open your eyes.”

And he does.

With a gentle, steadying hand on his chest, her voice is a notch above a whisper when she says,

“I think it’s better . . . if you come with me.”

.

.

.

They move as a single unit, Sakura supporting the stranger’s unhurt flank as they walk through the main drag of town.

Stranger . . . more like prisoner, tone grim even in her own head. Until they know his motives, people will be skittish. Like she should be.

She’s hoping the sight of her personally escorting him will ease their fears. When a newcomer arrives in town it’s always an inevitable habit, birds returning to their same migration patterns, like instinct. They gather and hover and breathlessly whisper, conjuring up excuses to visit her home and pry for gossip, suddenly needing medicine for their ills, herbs and plants for cooking and warding off spirits, tea to replace the two month’s supply given only a fortnight ago.

She has a more personal, and arguably selfish, reason for keeping him close. The ethics, debatable. But there are voices in the winds and signs in her nightmares, and the unsettling swirl pattern etching itself into reality upon dropping her own tea leaves and dregs on the floor.

Truth is there, moaning in the shadows and tugging at her sleeves, reminding her not to overstep. His arrival brings premonition she can only taste the edges of.

His looks are an irrelevant bonus.

While she senses he would be perfectly comfortable in pensive silence, she tries to make a kind effort to play tour guide.

“There’s a general store, a tailor . . . a library, of course. Across the street and down a bit further, you’ll see the town seat — you know, records and things.”

“Sakura?”

She doesn’t like the way he says her name — by which she means she’s obsessed with the low baritone in which he does. Looking away, she pretends to observe the world with intent under the scrutiny of his dark, intense eyes: Bluegreen leaves on the cusp of autumn turning, wind fluting through trees, seeking chainless escape. There’s been a steady hum since he’s crossed the boundary, forty-eight hours of seeking meaning.

And, the solstice is late.

“Yes, Sasuke?”

He pauses. There’s nothing in the intervening silence but the scraping sounds of their shoes.

“Where would I find a phone? The one I had with me on the hike is gone. I can see it’s a small town; still, I’m sure there’s one somewhere, for emergencies.”

“Sure.”

She doesn’t elaborate, and Sasuke waits.

“We’re coming up on my place,” she continues. “I’m so sorry, it’s on the edge of town. Once you’re settled in and have a chance to heal properly, we can discuss hiking to the next village over to use the phone.” Heading off further inquiries, she laughs, though it sounds strained. “I know, we’re really rural bumpkins out here.”

Sasuke doesn’t mention how little pain he’s in. Aside from a few attacks of dizziness and weakness, he has the distinct feeling that this lightness and lack isn’t quite right. Though, what would he know? Prior to this, he’s never been seriously injured, much less shot.

“Sure. I understand.”

Tension releases, unlocks and smooths her stiff shoulders. She notices he notices. They are dancing much too close.

Her cabin is set back from the road, a winding path leading any visitor through a lush front lawn and rippling, thick trees. Summer’s finale hanging on, refusing to let the season turn. By the crisp scent of molding foliage, autumn is merely seconds away. Dark windows, telling Sasuke that she hasn’t been home since their encounter; wind chimes, wood and metal brushing against one another and separating again, softly, as fingers plucking at instrument strings; bushels of produce, foodstuffs, and other goods, arranged to one side of the front door in a way that suggests someone else dropped it off, perhaps on a route.

Up the stairs, through the front door. Sakura can feel him handling his own weight with ease, but still finds herself rotating within arm’s length, excuses to touch.

“Let me bring these in,” she calls from the porch, “and I’ll give you the tour.”

Sasuke watches her maneuver the bushels with aplomb, looks around the entryway, taking in the cabin’s generous space. Sensing rooms in all directions, for the first time he wonders if anyone else lives here. With her. The lack of additional pairs of shoes or jackets on hooks, however, indicates otherwise.

Leaving the goods aside, Sakura shows him around. The front of the house is for receiving — exam room, a small area for waiting guests. Deeper in, a storeroom laden with strong smells of bundled herbs, containers of tea leaves, roots tied in bundles with ribbons, all hodgepodge amid more practical items like gloves and gauze. Here and there, an errant scalpel, functioning as a bookmark or knife or a potential accident depending on the task they’d been left in the middle of. Shelves and shelves of books, all looking much older than her.

“Messy, I know,” she says, blushing. “I’m classically trained — obviously,” and she indicates his slinged shoulder, “but there’s plenty to learn in the realm of herbs and tonics.”

“And teas, apparently.” Sasuke inclines his head to a particularly precarious stack of glass jars.

“Right.” She brings her hands together, fingers twisting in agitation. “Still, someone has to do it. And I certainly have the time.”

Sasuke doesn’t miss the focused intent in the way she shuts the door, or the way she makes a fleeting gesture before she brushes the tips of her fingers across the lock.

Superstitious, he thinks. Interesting.

He follows her through her home, lost in thought.

Abruptly and by magic, it seems, she’s gathered a pile of sheets and towels in her arms, and presents them to him.

“I’ll show you the guest bedroom. I’m sure a shower’s been on your mind as well. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” She starts down the hallway, and he follows. “There’s also a kitchen, a den — oh! A garden in the back, if you’re interested. My room, and also my study.” A pause. “Please understand I would prefer if you didn’t go in there, for privacy reasons. Patient records, you understand. The storeroom can be dangerous, so I’d rather you let me know if you need something.”

“Dangerous?”

“What if you trip?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but tension threads the attempt at humor. “Or poison yourself?”

“Hmm. And should I be worried about my safety, Doctor? Are you moonlighting as a mad scientist?”

The back of her neck burns so red, he can practically hear it sizzling. Tossing her pink plait over her shoulder with a huff, Sasuke smirks.

“No,” she says, honeyed but sarcastic. “Just your resident forest witch.”

An awkward laugh murmurs between them. Sasuke thinks back to when he was shot. Voices and lush scents. Eyes endless and layered green thickets beckoning him in. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fear of dying. All from the trauma, he’s sure he’s read it in a book. Maybe that explains why she’s so easy to lo—

“Here’s the shower, Sasuke.”

He finds himself staring through the doorway directly into a mirror, startling at his own reflection. With his tangled, mussed hair and dried blood accouterments, slouchy wrinkled clothes, and sling, he has the urge to apologize. Gods, does he reek? He hasn’t even thought about it. Steps forward as in a dream, nose nearly to the glass, the chaos of his last few weeks before he came here begins to settle into his shoulders, his neck. His mistakes. And here he was teasing this doctor, being flippant.

As if he has the right.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Sakura’s voice is quiet and she prepares to step away from the door.

“Doctor Haruno.”

“I said Sakura was fine.”

“Sakura, then.”

Her pink eyebrows arch upward, indicating her attention.

“ . . . Thank you.”

A tiny head tilt. She runs her fingers down the door frame, looking at anything but him, and eventually melts away and out of his sight, embarrassed, almost like vanishing.

Returning his attention to the mirror, he sighs at his haggard reflection. In his head it all plays on repeat, the engagements he’s fractured, the business endeavors failed, the drinking lapses, and all the people constantly picking him up again, the brother he shrugged off, lovers he didn’t love, well-meaning friends. He shakes it away, and removes his sling. Runs his fingers over the bandages, seeking the place where the edge meets tape.

Sasuke unravels himself bit by bit, gauze and tape and disintegrating tissue, soaked with dried bloodrust. His stomach lurches before he pulls away the last thin layers closest to the wounds, layers which slip through his numb fingertips and float, tumbling, to the tile.

Almost expecting it, the guileless and unmarked skin, smooth where the collarbone meets the shoulder meets the pectoral, that prized spot of yesteryear swordfighters where the armor never quite reaches, a fleshy target for near-certain death.

No evidence of bullets; no evidence of anything.

The dizziness sweeps at him hard, feeling like a real blow and making him unsteady on his feet. His own common sense takes him by the shoulders, gives him a hard shake.

Rubbing his thumb, hard, in repetitive motions where the bullets had nested in, tried to claim his life — and they were there, he had known, he had felt the pain, he had seen —

Behind him, Sakura passes by in the hallway, head tilted forward in thought. Pink, beautiful braid laddering down her back, swaying, flyaway tendrils escaping her tight-knit plait.

Sasuke grips the edge of the counter, holding his breath and trying to convince himself in vain that the good doctor did,

she did, she must?!

have a reflection in the mirror.

[akocomyk]

Ice Skating + Johnoy

2023’s 10th Most Memorable Moment

Back in July, I started seeing a guy whom I met in Bumble, but I didn’t friendzone him after our first date because I still saw potential in him.

On our second date, I told him he wasn’t the only person I was entertaining, so he made me promise that we’d go out until the end of 2023, and then I’ll decide if I’ll friendzone him or not. However, we won’t be exclusive—we could still see other people as we please.

The last time we saw each other was in October 28 when we went ice skating in Mall of Asia, then went to see Johnoy Danao’s live show at Third Bloom Café in Naic, Cavite.

So... on our bus ride going to Naic, although I may be remembering it wrong, this song played on the radio.

Regardless, that song played in the background many times in the numerous dates we had, therefore I’m reminded of him every time the song plays.

Going back. This was the first time that I learned how to skate—I didn’t even have roller skates when I was a kid. AND I ENJOYED IT, despite the minor injuries I incurred while doing so. And I really wanted to try ice skating again until I can do it properly.

Then... watching Johnoy Danao in a very intimate setting was magical. He’s one of the biggest influences in my musicality, so you can just imagine how hard I restrained myself from fanboying inside the café. This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen him perform—he was in Leni’s rallies during the 2022 campaign period—but watching him up-close was an entirely different experience.

• • • • •

And to you, my ever so effortful friend,

Thank you for all that you did for me in the past year. You’ve made my 2023 a lot less boring and painful, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. Again, I’m so sorry for all the pain I caused you. I’m also sorry for only seeing you as a friend.

I picked this date out of all the dates we had because it made me realize what I have been looking for in you—the reason why I couldn’t return your feelings for me. Remember, I’ve always wondered what it was that you lacked.

You have some sort of emotional detachment—at least, that’s what it seemed to me. I recognize and appreciate the effort that you put into everything—and your gestures were very impressive—but I somehow couldn’t feel the genuine compassion, respect, and concern for me even when your actions intend to make me feel that I’m cared for.

And as a general attitude of mine, I tend to naturally reciprocate how others treat me. So with you, you can imagine me mirroring a frozen heart that’s unwilling to melt.

Nevertheless, if you do like the version of you when you’re with me, I hope that you retain this even when I’m not with you.

In the end, we both know another person deserves this kind of love from you. When they come, all that you do will be just enough for them.

Stay strong. I know you’ve already gone through so much shit in your life—I hate to be one of them—but I still wish you all the best.

At friends pa rin naman tayo 'di ba.