#like how we used to have so many imaginary friends that lasted for far far longer than a kid should have imaginary friends

[nexus-nebulae]

now that we're looking into our body past and finding way more signs that we've been plural for god knows how long, we've been leaning into more of the things we used to do very naturally to express our plurality and it's been kinda fun

[softxsuki]

hi there! i hope you're doing well, congrats on your recent milestone! 💓 if it's alright, may i request a song drabble with the outsider by lyn lapid + hanemiya kazutora (from tokyo rev) + fem!reader + romantic? maybe the genre could be reverse comfort and/or fluff because he feels kinda left out after getting out of juvie. thank you in advance, han. ����

1.5k Follower Event Song Drabble "The Outsider" With Kazutora (TR)

This event is now closed. You can view the masterlist here.

| Pairing: Kazutora x Fem!Reader| Genre: Angst to Fluff bit of Comfort | Post-Type: Drabble | Word Count: 790 |

Warnings: insecurity (from Kazutora), feeling left out

Note: Once again apologizing for this being so late, I hope you're doing well and see this! I loved this concept of Kazutora feeling left out, and having Y/N comfort and reassure him! Enjoy <3

It had been weeks since he was finally released from juvie. Of course he had seen you on your frequent visits to see him when he was still locked up, but things felt different now that he was back in society. You were both older now, maybe you had changed your mind about him and were just sticking around out of obligation?

He felt completely out of place at the dinner you arranged with all his friends, wanting to give him the chance to catch up with everyone. It had been years since he sat at a table with all his friends, a lot of them looking much older than the last time he saw them.

He felt his heart sink when they all seemed so familiar with you as well; Mikey, Mitsuya, Draken, Chifuyu, and the other guys had taken care of you while Kazutora was locked away, making sure you were safe and happy.

You all were engaged in conversation, catching up and discussing events that had happened in the past few weeks when he wasn’t around. He couldn’t find an opportunity to jump in despite the many times you’d bring the conversation to him so he could speak, but he felt bad about joining in as the conversation among the group continued.

What really made him tick and lose his patience though was when Mikey reaches over the table to wipe the bit of ketchup off the side of your mouth with his thumb. Kazutora abruptly stands up and leaves the table, walking out of the restaurant completely.

That was his job…years ago when he wasn’t in prison, he’d even go as far as to kiss the mess off your face whenever you got some food on your nose or the side of your mouth. Has he been replaced? Were you only with him now because you felt bad? Hundreds of thoughts ran through his head as he paced outside the restaurant. Should he leave or go back in? What was he even doing out here?

Groaning, he mentally curses himself, until he feels a poke on his back, a familiar warm voice instantly calming him.

“You okay babe?” You ask slowly, getting his attention as he turns around to face you, sighing.

“I’m fine, I just…think I should leave. I’m clearly not needed here,” he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he kicks imaginary rocks on the ground.

With a sigh, you take his hand, squeezing it softly.

“Is it because of what Mikey did?” You ask slowly, knowing the action must have bothered him. As soon as he stormed out, you had scolded Mikey for his actions, which he had only done to stir up trouble, as usual. He just needed to be devious, it was his way of trying to get Kazutora to go back to his usual self.

He grunts in response, hating the way Mikey had touched you so casually, what if he had been doing that the whole time he was locked up?

“Stop that,” you sigh, tugging on his hand to get him to look your way, “I pushed Mikey’s hand away as soon as I noticed what he was doing. You know you’re the only one for me.”

Still unsatisfied, Kazutora frowns, overthinking everything.

“Do you know how long I waited for this day? Anxiously awaiting your return so you could be with your friends again and so we could be together like this, like we used to, to hug you and kiss you whenever I want. You’re the one I want, the one I love, the only one I’ll ever be with so long as you still want that,”  you sigh, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you see a small smile appear on his lips.

“Really? You were waiting for me this whole time?” He finally asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze in return.

“Of course, what else would I be doing? Nothing was the same without you, so having you here just feels right…” you smile softly, swinging your hands together. “Now let's go back inside, I’ll make sure Mikey apologizes to you.”

Agreeing, he follows you inside the restaurant again, your fingers intertwined as he takes a seat beside you, wrapping an arm around your chair reminding everyone you were already taken by him.

The rest of the evening goes a lot smoother, as he slowly opens up more, the guys directing more questions at him and pulling him into their conversations as they talk about their past together. And after many years you see his smile again, the lightheartedness he used to carry; in that moment it was back, and it was beautiful. You’d make sure to protect it for as long as you were together. 

Posted: 9/16/2024

[primewitch]

IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE DONE OF THESE so let's get going in the lisa lore dump 💜 ( it's , , , enormous , so take risk at your own precaution ! )

friendly reminder that lisa has canonly :

been considered the most brilliant student in the akademiya in the last 200 years ;

simply asked for a vision AND OBTAINED IT , IT IN THAT VERY MOMENT , IN HER HAND ;

the only character so far that has mentioned something being odd about the visions ;

considered to be the most reliable knight by diluc , and praised and trusted by albedo , sucrose , jean , cyno and ALICE ;

immediately noted and recruited by varka , who wanted her to lead one of the knights companies yet she denied ;

asked to join the hexenzirkel YET SHE DENIED IT ALSO ;

stated to possess an immense power and aura , which she hints to MANY A TIMES throughout the first few archon quests + her story quest ;

casually said that if dvalin stepped over the line too much back when the abyss had influence on him , that she would take care of him ;

crafted and created an object called nirnama detector , able to see people's imaginary friends , mostly from children : which was clearly a hint to the aranara ;

canonly gave the traveler a book in her story quest , which we KNOW is a tracker on them ;

IN THE GOLDEN ARCHIPELAGO QUEST , THEY WERE ALL WORRIED AT FIRST ABOUT WHO STAYED IN MONDSTADT BUT THE MOMENT IT WAS MENTIONED THAT LISA TOOK OVER TEMPORARILY THEY WERE ALL RELIEVED .

AND . . . another friendly reminder that lisa has , gameplay wise / design / etc . :

she has . . . a fucking crack in her hourglass in her constellation ;

purple being known as not only the color of power , but also knowledge ;

her vision in her main skin being much more oval in shape shape than circular ( this changes in the sumeru skin she got , which makes me wonder some other things ) , as well as SMALLER ;

both her skin arts have some sort of lantern / lamp within it ? ? ? WHICH might be another hint at her short time to live , due to how eventually the flame that gives light runs out ? ? ? ;

she being like , , , the character with the second most dmg input from a skill in the whole game ? ? ? ;

her burst description being : "" this rose is beautiful but beware of it's mortal thorns . "" while the rose she makes appear in her model HAS A CUT THORN ? ? ? ;

her normal attacks having a melody to it which i'm still looking forward to see more about ! . as you can see , if you don't switch from her character , said melody continues . . . so we can get a pretty clear hearing of what it is like . ;

the first book each catalyst user has when obtained in a wish , they are by default using a 1* weapon named apprentice's notes . it is the book that lisa is often seen using in her official art , and the description being : "" notes left behind by a top student . many useful spells are listed , and the handwriting is beautiful . "" . it is clearly her book , and it's very sweet how the first catalyst we obtain with each character has essentially her notes to start with ;

the very fact that one of her favorite sets for the teapot is called secret research lab . . . ;

[bestfriend491]

Jealousy Jealousy

| Request Number 1.

Okoye x Reader

Summary: Your friend Okoye starts acting weird when you start dating other people again.

Angst and Fluff

Warnings: Occasional Implied Sexual Activity if you squint (Not Smut), 3.5k words, Pining, Friends with Benefits Situation

12 years earlier…

You laid in Okoye's arms, looking out into the night sky of Wakanda, tracing your hands along the far away stars, connecting them to make out the constellations that you knew.

Okoye held you, feeling as close to you as she ever had.

"I wish that we could stay like this forever." You whispered, looking forward to observe the dimly lit huts spread all around the Border-Lands.

Okoye took a deep breath, knowing exactly what she wanted to say but not having the courage to say it.

The two of you had been sitting like this for a while now, cuddling together on the grass. Taking in each other's presence for the last time.

Okoye was to leave for proper Dora Milaje training tomorrow; something that both excited her and made her feel very sad.

On the one hand, she finally had the opportunity to become a Dora Milaje, something she had dreamed of becoming from far before she could even hold a spoon, yet alone a spear. She was finally going to be protecting and serving her country.

On the other hand though, stood the fact that you would not be coming with her. You had chosen a different path for yourself, wanting to take a year off from school to see what Wakanda and the rest of the world had to offer.

You'd made the decision to take the year off before returning to school to become a healer.

At first you considered being a farmer, like your mother and father. You liked looking after the Border Tribe's land, animals and people, and you loved how peaceful it was on this side of Wakanda, not so busy like the Capital City. But your mother wanted you to do something else, something that you could actually maintain and loved doing.

So you decided to become a healer. It was a job you could imagine doing, and you were smart enough to be able to learn everything quickly and easily. You were worried that you'd need to move though, as there weren't many people that needed healing in the Border-Lands and there were already plenty of healers there too, but you accepted that you'd move to the city if need be.

Now the two of you would be separated for the first times in your lives, taking completely different paths in life and Okoye wasn't sure if the two of you would stay as close as you thought you would.

There had been an unspoken agreement of sorts with the two of you. You'd been using each other for love and comfort for 2 years now, sharing the occasion night together, exploring each other's bodies. You considered it to be a casual situationship, nothing official.

'Just fun', as Okoye had said one day.

Now, You'd be separated and you didn't know what was to happen to your relationship. You both wanted more with each other. You wanted so much more, but you were too scared to admit it.

Okoye seemed to finally know what she wanted to say, moving you off of her and shifting herself to face you. "We could stay like this. If you just joined the Dora Milaje with me."

You rolled your eyes at her, tired of having to repeat this argument over and over again with her.

"For the last time, Okoye. The life of a Dora Milaje is not one that I desire." You held her chin up, kissing her softly before continuing.

"You know that I'm not like you. But I'll be here to fix your wounds when you become THE BEST DORA MILAJE OUT THERE!" You laughed as Okoye covered your mouth trying to make you lower your voice.

You stood up, taking Okoye up with you as you hummed a tune that you'd heard one of the farmers playing earlier in the week. Okoye chose to join you in your singing, while holding onto you close, swaying to the imaginary drums being played.

You weren't sure this would last, so you settled on enjoying each other's presence now, because it might be the last time that you'd be like this with one another.

12 years later…

"Y/n! I need you on standby." N'Yahnea called out to you, moving quickly around the infirmary; getting ready for the near arrival of the Quinjet filled with the Prince and some Dora Milaje.

You rolled your eyes at your fellow healer, watching her scurry around looking at you for assistance. She was always so stressed out about even simple tasks, and this made you feel uneasy and tired.

"Captain Y/n, please. Behave yourself." came Elder Unna's voice from the distance.

You fixed your posture after hearing her, briefly apologising to N'Yahnea before beginning to help her ready the infirmary.

You weren't trying to be rude, it had just been a tough week. You'd had to travel 3 times today already and you'd had to go into the city 5 times this week as well, something you hated doing.

Being a Royal Healer was hard and both physically and mentally draining, but still, it was an honour to be doing such an important job.

You set up your station. Going to wash your hands, you passed your former Captain and Mentor, sheepishly apologising with your eyes. Once again avoiding her gaze, as she shook her head at you in disapproval.

"You need to give the girl time. She is still new to this, Y/n. And she is not as naturally gifted as you are. It is only expected that she is a bit jittery."

"Yes, Ma." You replied, taking into account your motherly figures' words.

She was going to say something else when the doors to the infirmary opened and everyone started to rush in.

Prince T'Challa walked in battered and bruised, with a few Dora following suit. You approached the future king and helped him onto the infirmary bed.

"I thought you said that this was a simple mission. You look awful." You said, checking his overall condition with one of your beads."

T'Challa scoffed, ready to answer when he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Our prince here was feeling extra restless today. Tried to take the enemy out all by himself. Only he forgot to check if they were heavily armed." Okoye entered the infirmary, poking fun at the prince for his recklessness.

"That is not completely true, Okoye. But yes. I did slightly underestimate the enemy's abilities." The other Dora Milaje laughed at T'Challa's weak attempt to lie to you.

You barely noticed though, your attention being captured by the woman approaching you.

With her muscular build and her shaven head with its tattoo, Okoye had definitely changed over the years. But you weren't complaining. She was still as breathtaking as ever.

She brushed her body against your shoulder as she moved to look for bandages to wrap another Dora's hand, winking at you as you watched her walk past you.

You gave her a once-over, looking directly into her eyes.

"Okoye." You greeted her.

"Y/n."

The two of you kept eye contact with each other for ages, forgetting all about where you were.

"Okay, enough you two. Save it for later, please." Ayo broke the moment, going in between the both of you, blocking your line of vision of Okoye.

You smirked as Okoye moved, you playfully blew a kiss in her direction just to annoy her fellow Dora and good friend.

Okoye chuckled, pretending to catch the kiss and bring it to her heart.

"I can't stand the two of you." Ayo pointed at the two of you and shook her head, while T'Challa and everyone else laughed at the moment.

You gave the other woman knowing eyes, before leaving her so you could tend back to your prince and his injuries.

Now at night, you got into your bed, looking at the figure sprawled out next to you.

There she laid, Your…

Okoye. That's all you could really call her.

Okoye.

Your close friend and partner in crime. Nothing more. The two of you weren't anything past that. Sure, you shared a bed most days, and you stole glances from each other constantly. You even indulged in each other's bodies every once in a while, but still, there wasn't a clear label to what you were. You'd been doing this for so long now, that you didn't even know how you could address the problem.

You knew that you were tired, that you wanted more to your love life than some friends with benefits situation as they called it. And you told Okoye this constantly, wanting her to know that what you had wasn't permanent. She never really believed you anymore, as you had been saying the same thing for years.

'I want more, Okoye. I want everything you refuse to give me.' You thought to yourself as you watched the woman sleeping on your bed.

"Are you just going to keep staring?" Her voice took you out of your trance, and you realised that she was still awake.

"No." You replied, sliding into the sheets to finish what you'd started in the infirmary.

You needed to stop.

You were going to stop.

But you just didn't know how.

So it would have to wait. Once again.

It had been 4 weeks since that night and things had changed. Okoye noticed it immediately. The way that you stopped coming to bed with her so often, or the fact that you hadn't been with each other for more than half of that time. You having chosen to distance yourself from her.

She had tried asking you what the issue was, assuming that she had done something wrong or had hurt you in some way, but you would just lie and tell her that nothing was wrong and would kiss her then leave.

Okoye wasn't necessarily happy with the new distance, but she thought that she could still handle it nonetheless.

It was only when you started implying that you were single that she began to panic. You started openly flirting with other people again. Asking people for their names and where they could be found. She had even caught you setting up a date with this one other person in secret when you thought she wasn't at the palace.

This was not to say that she thought that you two were together. She knew you weren't, that you were just a casual thing going on. But usually when things between the two of you were good, there was no flirting with others and a lot of flirting with each other. You never explicitly asked each other out but you did give each other specific looks that always meant that you wanted to meet later on in the day. It was a flawed system, yes, but it had been working for over a decade.

She was now worried because the last time this had happened, she'd said something that had hurt you on your graduation day and she had nearly lost you as a friend. She didn't want to lose you. You were the only thing that kept her going. And seeing you starting to give your attention to other people made her nervous.

Okoye was scared that she now had competition.

You walked into your room, where she was sitting on your bed waiting for you. It was late and she wasn't sure why you weren't in sooner but the moment she saw you, she knew exactly what was going on.

"Where have you been?" She asked a bit rudely as you took off your shoes.

"Out."

You didn't want to tell her too much about the date that had gone so terribly. You didn't want her to rub it in your face.

"Do you want to come to my house, maybe?" She asked walking up to hold you. She kissed you, trying to loosen you up for the first time in a while. You stopped her, moving her hand that was resting on your hip to hang next to her body.

"Okoye, I can't do this now. I have work early tomorrow."

"What about tomorrow, we can eat out or go on a walk when our duties are done." She asked, looking desperately into your eyes.

"I can't. I have another date tomorrow, sorry."

Okoye scowled at the mention of the date, never having thought that you would actually go out into the dating world again. You hadn't mentioned anyone else in years and even then when you did, that person barely lasted.

"You're actually doing that?" She looked away from you, ashamed at how jealous she must have looked.

Bast, you made her look so weak.

"Yes, Okoye. I'm actually doing that. And it looks like you might need to fix that sad face of yours. You knew that this was going to happen." You held her chin, forcing her to look deeply into your eyes. You wanted her to see that you didn't really want to do this.

You just wanted her to say the words, to say that she loved you and needed you. Then you would stop and be with just her. She just needed to say the words. But she didn't.

"I just miss you." Is what she said instead. Making you look at her and suck your teeth, moving on with your night.

You gave her a simple kiss on the lips, nothing long or sensational, but it would keep her quiet and make her leave.

Directing her out of your room, you looked at her and whispered. "You look jealous, Sthandwa."

Jealous? Okoye replayed your words the next day, seeing you pass by her on your way to the infirmary.

She was jealous, but she wasn't sure why. The two of you weren't together. There was barely even anything going on between the two of you. Okoye was just struggling to cope with you going out with other people.

"Ayo?" She asked her fellow sister as they stood guarding the throne room that day.

"Hmm." The other woman didn't look in her direction, needing to stay still, but she was listening.

"Y/n is going on another date today, and for some reason it is really bothering me. I'm not sure why."

The other Dora turned to her now, not being able to keep herself together.

"Maybe it's because you've been in love with her for 15 years. With the way that you two have operated for the past decade, I'm not surprised that you feel a certain type of way about it." She looked at Okoye, who was now contemplating what she should do.

Ayo, seeing that she still wasn't getting the hint, decided to make it clear.

"You love her, Okoye. And although you are trying your best to hide it, you are jealous of the fact that she is tired of playing your mind games and wants to move on."

Okoye huffed at this, noting that her fellow sister's words were definitely true.

But this revelation didn't do anything. You were still going on that date and you two were still not in a relationship…

Hours later, Okoye was now officially off duty, and you had probably been off for a few hours, getting ready for your date.

She went over to your room, not sure what she was even going to do, but knowing that she needed to talk to you.

She knocked, something that she rarely ever did.

"Come in." She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that you were still there.

She entered your room to see you putting on matching earrings to your already stunning outfit.

"Okoye," you greeted her, seeing her shift from leg to leg. You could tell that she had something to say.

"Do you need something?" You asked, urging her to let whatever was on her mind out.

"Do you really have to go on all of these dates? Am I not enough for you anymore? What is making you feel the need to give what has been mine for so long to someone else?"

You raised a brow at her, struggling to understand where the sudden interest in you was coming from. You walked towards her getting close but not reachable.

"What's yours? All of a sudden I'm yours. After waiting for years and finally deciding to make myself happy, now I'm yours. Okoye, please. I don't have time for this." You tried to move her out of your way, not wanting to leave your date waiting. But she stopped you.

"Okay, Y/n. I know. I know that I haven't made it my priority to say the things that you needed to hear. I'm sorry. But I want you. I want us to be more than friends that sleep together. I want us to be together. Officially."

Okoye looked at you with pleading eyes, begging you to give her a chance, and you almost did. You almost let your guard down and allowed her to charm you. But after the effect she had on you had finally worn off, you shook your head clearing your throat.

"I'm sorry, Okoye. But I can't. I've loved you in many ways, for many years, and I've heard the same thing over and over again. I can't do that to myself again."

With that, you walked out.

Leaving Okoye stunned.

Months passed by, and you met a few people over the course of them. Your relationship with Okoye had become strictly professional, her not wanting to cross the boundaries that you had set and you not wanting your heart to be broken again.

The first few months were hard, seeing each other every day knowing that something was over, even though that something never truly existed.

Okoye was down for a while after it happened. She was mad at herself for letting you get away, and sometimes she was even mad at you, for having such an effect on her.

You gave her space, and after some time the two of you started talking again. She was always more reserved when you spoke about who you were talking to, her walls seemingly building up the moment that the conversation turned that way.

You could tell that she was jealous, from the way that she would try to make you dress down, or try to question you and convince you not to go. Other nights, she would call you with your beads constantly, just to get you to come back. It was exhausting and you wanted to kill her sometimes. You never would though, because you were still deeply in love with her.

One night, after a bad date, you headed to her headquarters in need of a friend. You opened the door without knocking, knowing that she wouldn't mind.

"I'm back." You huffed sitting down next to Okoye on the bed while taking off your shoes.

"Aren't you going to ask me how it went?" You asked, seeing the stale expression on her face.

"No. I'd rather not know the details."

You rolled your eyes at her, assuming that she was just having a moment. "Well, it was terrible. We had nothing in common and that woman had the nerve to tell me that being a healer didn't require skill. How dare she-"

"Y/n please, I can't deal with another story about a date! I just can't!".

You became silent, looking at Okoye with tears in her eyes, looking away from you.

"Okoye, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were still so affected by this."

The woman turned her head quickly, wanting to face you when she bursted.

"Of course I am still affected! I LOVE YOU! I ALWAYS HAVE, and I… I just didn't have the confidence to say anything. And now you're going on these dates all of the time and I'm so jealous but I can't do anything about it because we don't have anything that would keep you from leaving." Okoye stood up to have some privacy in the bathroom to compose herself.

You felt the tears coming down too, feeling terrible knowing that Okoye was feeling those things while having to smile at you getting dressed in her room every night.

You got up, walking to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

"Okoye…Okoye, I'm sorry. I should have been taking your feelings into consideration. I have not been very fair to you." You waited for her to open the door, but after seeing that that wasn't going to happen, you continued.

"The truth is that I was hurt. I was hurt that you didn't love me the way that I loved you. I was hurt that you didn't feel the things that I did. I wanted you to finally choose me but I was sick of waiting. I should have told you that from the start."

Okoye listened on the other side of the door, taking in every word you'd just said.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you." You replied softly, leaning your head against the door.

Soon after, she opened the door.

The next morning, you laid in her bed, wrapped in her arms as you soaked in the first day of being back with the love of your life.

She kissed your forehead, gazing out at the few stars left in the morning sky. She yawned, her voice still hoarse from sleeping.

"I wish that we could stay like this forever."

You smiled up at her saying this, glad that she had remembered what you'd said all those years ago.

"Now, we can." You said.

Author's Note: Day One, Number 1. Hope you enjoyed.

[queensparklekitten]

I found your web weave about last online 7 years ago and scp 1762 (And I Love It), and I noticed it said you can’t reblog unless you were from the SGE site. What is that exactly?

*looks up from my drink, in the corner of the bar*

So. You wanna know about the SGE site, huh? Well.

Once upon a time, there was an online community.

Fandom forum, though the Open Chat one (equivalent of a #general channel in a discord server) was by far the most used. You got a book you read when you were 12 that changed your life? SGE's the acronym for what was that book for me. You might've seen the movie adaptation on Netflix a couple years back. I really waited seven years for that... I'm getting off topic. Back to the website.

The userbase was in the 8-17 age range, 90% girls, many of us the kind of people who devoured books like it was nothing in our then-ongoing preteen years. The few moderators never even looked at us unless we reported a glitch, spammer, or bigot for them to deal with, so we had no adult supervision.

Open Chat was used for, among other things, the most chaotic unhinged roleplay you can imagine. We got really into it. Wild parties that lasted days, food fights that quickly escalated into the hunger games, everything to do with those living shadows, Bob the alien, the Potato Kingdom, many of us had pets or imaginary friends doing this alongside us, I'm barely scratching the surface here, if I were to try to explain it all we'd be here for weeks. Quoting the Bee Movie script or singing certain songs had a tendency to cause all hell to break loose paranormally, one time it opened a portal to the underworld. It was the most fun ever. There was a reason we'd greet newcomers with "try not to die".

Aside from the chaos, there was contests where we'd reply with images of dresses or cute animals or what else have you, lots of clubs based around various things, people would sing (post song lyrics, sometimes roleplaying whole flashy performances) and post fun questions for everyone to answer and stories and neat videos we found and really good poetry and so, so much more that we didn't archive because we just assumed it would always be there.

It's where I met a lot of my closest friends- hell, it was the only place where I regularly got invited to participate in anything. I don't think there's anyone on that site who didn't forge friendships there. It's also how I got into quite a lot of songs and books and shows, and how I learned HTML formatting. That site was my home. It was the best part of my life for years.

You know how online friends are, though. Sometimes they disappear without a trace, a warning, or an explanation. Or their parents forbid them from going on the site because they think online chat rooms are dangerous.

I joined at 12. By the time I was nearing age 15, most of my friends had disappeared without a trace, never to return. I was one of the very few users to join in 2016 who was still active. The site wasn't abandoned, there were new people everywhere, but...

I don't pretend to understand the why of it, but the magic just. Started fading, I suppose. The community was falling apart. The roleplay got more stale and repetitive and often died down before it went anywhere. It all slowly declined and decayed and became a shell of itself. A hollow mimicry of what we once had. It wasn't really fun anymore, and I found myself wondering what was left to stay for. Just got worse in this regards, up until the website's final days, even after the rest of the userbase started becoming aware of it.

Eventually one day, the Open Chat started glitching hard. It had done that before, many times, and always been fixed. That time, though, it went down for repairs and never came back up. They said they'd bring it back, and they never did. Here's the thing, though- our posts all disappeared. When other forums on that website got closed around then, we could still see the posts by going through our post histories, we just couldn't reply to them. Open Chat and every last record of what we did there just vanished entirely, like it never existed.

It never even got crawled by the Wayback Machine.

...Now that I mention it, tomorrow's actually the anniversary of when Open Chat went down... how the FUCK was that five years ago it does NOT feel like it's been anywhere near that long.

Anyways.

During this time, the very few (like, there was maybe 2 at most) moderators had begun responding to drama by banning offsite links, followed by, several months after we lost our Open Chat, banning off-topic (non-SGE-related) discussions entirely, which sparked riots and a petition and they knew what it meant to the userbase, even to newer people who'd only known the comparatively lifeless version, we told the admins as hard as we could, and they did nothing. Well, other users told them anyways. I knew the site was beyond saving and thus didn't do anything but listen to music and make "let me guess, your home?" memes.

We also lost the ability to make posts in our profiles that weren't in any forums but could be seen if you went through the user's post history.

The official end was the "revamp" of the website, that was just a shutdown. They deleted everything that was left of it and all the records of what we were, and made a completely new website that the old one's url now redirects to. Though at least this time they had the courtesy to announce it a month and a half in advance so we could load as much as we could of what remained into archive.org during those weeks. There's no forum feature on the new site, and user data wasn't transferred. I never made an account on the new site. Why would I?

You can probably guess by reading those lyrics and asofterworld screencaps that I, and at least some other users I'm still in contact with, never really got over the death of that community.

That last image in my webweave is a screenshot of the page that now comes up whenever you type in the url for a forum or an old site member's profile and hit enter.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Sorry if this ask gets broken or send more than once, tumblr likes to crash on my phone a lot oops!

Anyhoo, any advice for creating a headmate?

We're a traumagenic system, so we never had any control over when we split new headmates. But I'm a fictive of someone who's a twin and I really miss my brother and would really really love it if he could join us in the headspace, I think he would really like my headmates and they would be very receptive of him <:) I talked to the others about it and they said they think its okay for me to try as long as we do so in a healthy way.

But I dont know how to split a new headmate in a healthy way. Im obviously not going to purposely put us through stress and/or trauma to encourage a traumagenic formation, that'd be unhealthy. BUT I dont know how to help form a headmate in a non-traumagenic way... Do you have any advice or tips? I know theres lots of ways to willingly form new headmates, but I dont really know how to utilize them.

Thank you so much in advance!!

Hi! This is pretty tricky, and in general we’d advise traumagenic systems to make sure they’re in a safe place/have made significant progress towards recovery before attempting to create a headmate. There’s a lot of ways something like this could go very wrong if proper care is not taken! That being said, you do know yourself and your system better than anyone else! So if you and your system believe attempting to create a headmate is the right thing to do and the best move for your system, we’re wishing you the best of luck, and have some resources we can share.

All of the best resources we’ve found so far we’ve compiled in our resources post for questioning systems.

That post ^ has a whole section for plurality that is non-dissociative disorder specific, with tons of links to guides and resources on how to go about creating a headmate. The paromancy (called “tulpamancy” in the links) guides are probably the most comprehensive, with tons of information on creating a paro/thoughtform, which is a type of nontraumagenic headmate.

Y’all might also find it easier and less high-stakes to visualize this person as an imaginary friend or an aspect of your headspace. Lots of systems have NPCs in their headspace which have limited autonomy, but aren’t actually full-fledged system members. You can visualize an NPC in the same way you visualize a setting or object as a part of a headspace - we have a little headspace primer which we’ll link below which might help if you choose to go this route!

If you start out with this potential headmate as an imaginary friend, and they ultimately start to feel like a part of the system, there’s a term for that! It’s called imagi, and you can read a bit more about it on Pluralpedia:

Hopefully this helps at least give you somewhat of a starting point! And if we may, a final word of caution:

Creating a headmate is a big deal. Often this is something that will last forever, and cannot be easily reversed. What is so so important to understand, is that once this headmate can think for themself and are afforded some autonomy and agency, they may make decisions or choose to be something that no one in your system ever would have anticipated.

This means thy may want to separate from their source. They may not act, look, or view themselves the way the twin from your source would have. They may not arrive with source memories, and may not see themselves as your twin at all. In many systems, headmates act and function as their own individuals, and feel happiest when they have their own agency and get to make choices about how they present and interact with the world. This means, there is a chance that any headmate you create won’t live up to the standards you’ve set for them beforehand. We’re not saying this sort of thing will happen 100%! But there definitely is a chance of this occurring, so it’s best to be prepared in case it does.

In the end, this is your choice and a choice to be made by your system! We just hope y’all are understanding the consequences of doing something like this, and know that no matter how you envision your new headmate at the beginning, there’s nothing certain that will keep them that way as they grow and develop on their own. We hope your potential new headmate will be understood, valued, and respected for who they are as they are, and not who others hoped for them to be!

Sorry this got so long! Good luck with everything! We hope this process goes as smoothly for you and your system as it can!

🌸 Margo and 👻 Ghost

[teadari]

Drabble

ᥫ᭡ Fall in love with a sword ᥫ᭡  

Zangetsu/Hichigo Shirosaki x reader

   ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ᥫ᭡

How did she manage to find herself in such a, quite frankly, difficult predicament? It felt as though she had entered a dream where reality and fantasy intertwined in an unbearable dance. The poor soul seemed to have completely lost her mind, drowning in endless thoughts of him, that young being who had unexpectedly burst into her life. The nights, serenely following one another, got lost in the vast fields of her anxious thoughts — she neither eats nor sleeps, and only he, like an unrelenting ghost, wanders through her consciousness.

It might be tempting to assume that something is amiss with this girl; however, within this invisible captivity lies a remarkable truth about human existence itself. Interestingly, it is precisely in moments when the heart is gripped by anxiety that we attain the highest degree of sensitivity, allowing us to embrace — to say goodbye to despair and to forgive ourselves for so easily succumbing to the allure of passion.

It’s all the fault of that strange boy, with his twisting laughter and mysterious allure, whom she met by chance yet cannot forget. His image seems to be etched in her soul, stirring a whirlwind of emotions far more swift and powerful than any storm at sea. And, as is rare for many, she found herself thinking that there was something more contained in his gaze; perhaps it was a gift — a gift of love, wrapped in tender feelings, capable of transforming a person's life, erasing the boundaries between the real and the imaginary.

Ichigo Kurosaki is that very boy with bright orange hair, like fiery tongues that refuse to be extinguished. He is intelligent, handsome, and a bit hotheaded, yet always ready to lend a hand. There was something radiant about his nature, and it seemed that in his presence, the dark corners of life blossomed with hope.

Ohiko liked him only as a good friend, nothing more; however... as is often the case in life, she unexpectedly encountered "him" — the one who suddenly took root in her heart, like a traveler finding refuge in a cozy nook embraced by warmth. This mysterious man became a symbol of unrealized desires for her, a dream that weaves through her thoughts like a scarlet thread.

Inexplicably, the girl possessed an unusual gift — she could see all sorts of ghosts and other creatures that sometimes slipped into her ordinary world, adding a touch of magic while simultaneously instilling a sense of anxiety and fear. It was both a blessing and a curse, a temptation that beckoned and tormented her spirit.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

On a cold evening, as she walked through the empty streets like a solitary figure on the desolate pages of a faded blueprint, her thoughts were as barren as the autumn wind rushing past the trees shedding their last leaves. She felt anxiety and boredom merging into something singular and dark, like the night snuffing out the light.

She longed to be alone with herself, to wrap herself in the abyss of oblivion like a cozy blanket, shutting out the calls of the outside world and forgetting the dreams of tomorrow that still surrounded her, insistently and intrusively breaking into her consciousness. This was the very paradox of life: sometimes, to find peace, one must dive into their own fears and hopes, confront the ghosts that dwell in the corners of the heart, and only then might one discover the key to the happiness they seek.

Alas, her plans, fragile as delicate cocoons, easily crumbled into dust when a monstrous figure emerged before her, like a menacing shadow. Its head was crowned with a bony mask that resembled a distorted skull, as if death itself had chosen to paint its horrors on the faces of beings wandering this world. This ominous creature radiated such danger that the air thickened with a peculiar viscosity, imparting a palpable sense of impending doom.

Ohiko barely had time to realize that her fate was about to change drastically before the creature had already seized her in its grasp, like an unavoidable destiny eager to consume her entirely — a moment where time ceased to exist, and only the heartbeat of terror remained, leaving the laws of logic behind. In her sheer horror, she began to bid farewell to life when suddenly, amidst the darkness and chaos that filled her mind, a miracle intervened — a salvation that arrived like a ray of light piercing through the veil of darkness, cutting through to her very soul.

In such moments, it becomes clear that life itself is full of paradoxes — in one instant, you can stand on the edge of an abyss, only to become part of something much greater than you could ever imagine in the next. Each encounter with dark forces undoubtedly leaves scars, but at the same time, it offers the chance to reflect light, even when it seems barely visible.

It seems that Ichigo saved her — his figure in black, like a shimmering darkness, flashed by so swiftly that she barely had time to grasp his appearance, leaving only a warm spark of hope in her heart. This fleeting shadow, ready to carve a path through the gloomy expanse, became a symbol of salvation for her.

And then, in an instant, the creature disappeared, like a timid ghost dissolving into the morning fog. In its place emerged a bright, blinding light — like the radiance of truth, casting a glow on the lightness of being. Yet this light turned out to be merely the harbinger of a new fear: she began to fall, like a bird with clipped wings, plunging into an abyss where only one fate awaited her — the risk of crashing to her death.

She fell and fell, as the sky transformed into an endless maze of darkness — grim and threatening, where every turn took her further away from the saving light. The sky, once dark and nocturnal, suddenly underwent metamorphosis, turning into towering glass skyscrapers, inverted, as if left in the aftermath of a terrible earthquake.

As she fell, she felt an overwhelming terror, afraid of shattering into tiny fragments. Yet her descent turned out to be surprisingly smooth and painless, evoking a slight confusion within her soul — as if fate itself had chosen to shield her from harsh realities. It was a peculiar sensation, especially since she landed on a glass floor, reflecting her anxieties like a mirror concealing the true face of her fears.

Barely able to rise, she glanced around and realized that the space around her was as strangely real as when she was falling, as if she had entered an illusory reality where the laws of physics and logic had lost their grip. The blue, almost transparent sky stretched above her, while clouds floated by like gentle dreams, leaving behind a faint trail. Skyscrapers towered all around, seeming to have their own pulse — they filled the space like thoughts enveloping a person's heart in moments of profound confusion.

She didn’t understand where she was, and, to be honest, she couldn't grasp how just a couple of seconds ago her world had seemed completely different, like disjointed fragments of reality scattered across the cheerful pages of an invisible album. Everything around her felt like a sweet yet unsettling dream — a realm where logic and madness collided, much like a scene from a play where the actors had lost the thread of the script and wandered mindlessly through the carnival chaos.

Thoughts swirled in her mind, preventing her from piecing everything together into a cohesive mosaic, that same rustle of fear collectively intensifying her confusion. “What should I do next?” she pondered, confronted by the surreal landscape painted by her imagination. In that moment, when realization weighed heavily upon her, she made a resolute decision — to rise and move forward, compelled by the relentless call of hope to find a way out of this tangled labyrinth.

However, before she could take a single step, footsteps suddenly echoed through the air, quiet and soundless, like a harbinger of a storm. A sense of anxious anticipation, a shadow, enveloped her as someone approached, someone who seemed to know more about her than she knew about herself. He watched her, studying her indignation and confusion with a piercing intensity that was both mesmerizing and suffocating.

Turning around, she met his gaze — it was "him," an astonishing apparition in white, conjured by the heavens themselves, resembling Ichigo but with a distinct difference in color. His hair was as pure as freshly fallen snow, and his skin was dazzlingly white, while his attire undeniably complemented this ethereal image, distancing him from the ordinary world.

But his eyes, oh! Those eyes were something beyond mere reflections of light: they beckoned like an invitation to the very essence of life. Within them resided an extraordinary beauty that drew one in, like gentle waves sweeping a person into the uncharted depths of unknown desires. This beauty lay in their depth, in the enigmatic sadness and infinite wisdom they held, containing countless secrets hidden from the fleeting glance of an ordinary person.

Unconsciously, she found herself swept away in a stream of thoughts — perhaps it is through encounters with such unique beings that we deepen our understanding of life. Each step, every meeting — none of these are mere coincidences; they are significant milestones on the journey to ourselves, on the path to discovering meaning and love that permeates every moment of our existence. In that white, fragile form, she sensed new horizons unfolding, ready to be explored like light breaking through the dense veil of night.

He beckoned to her, drawing her in like a magnetic force, pulling her away from the warmth of the shore and into his unfathomable depths — to touch him, to drown in his golden eyes, to lose herself in that hazy joy and forget everything forever, as if time had lost its meaning, leaving only the ghost of a moment behind.

“Who... who are you?” she finally asked, her voice soft like the whisper of the wind through the leaves, her gaze locked onto him, unable to break free from the hypnotic aura that enveloped him from head to toe.

“I... don't think you would understand, even if I explained it to you,” he said, his words flowing like a melody, filling the air with an invisible energy. “All you need to know is that I am the inner embodiment of Ichigo.”

This response carried a note of mystery, yet he could feel his own heart swaying in a dance with her emotions, as if cosmic forces silently urged them toward unity.

In this absurd game of fate, he became a reflection of her innermost self, like two mirrors colliding to create something greater than the mere sum of their reflections. In his eyes, filled with charm and unspoken desires, she saw the possibility of crafting a new reality, where even in profound contemplation, one could discover the ties that bind us, despite the fragility known as life.

So, standing before him, she felt as if she had come to realize: each of us is not only a collector of scars and memories but also the creator of our own essence, ready to explore the unknown, embracing both darkness and light as they dance together in the unity of existence. Within this fusion of the inner and outer lies the answers to the questions we live by, until we find that very light that will lead us to the truth, willing to accept it.

They both gazed at each other, and Ohiko felt a strange sensation, as if she had known him her entire life — as if all her experiences, joys, and secret tears wove together into a single pattern, so familiar and close, despite the fact that they had only just met. In that moment, beyond the bounds of life, something more was unfolding than just a chance encounter — it was the incomprehensible threads of fate, intertwined by invisible strings that spoke of destiny and its unpredictable twists.

They might have continued staring at each other, sinking deeper into the abyss of their feelings, but she was the first, like a sensitive being, to take a step back, creating space for breathing between them. This gesture seemed to symbolize her internal struggle — she longed for closeness but felt the weight of wandering, as if the world around them had suddenly tasted a bittersweet farewell in that very moment.

“How did I get here?” she asked, curious yet slightly embarrassed, and although deep down she felt that such trivialities as circumstances held little significance, she was nonetheless eager to continue the conversation.

All she wanted was to gaze into those golden eyes, to immerse herself in their soft glow; it was a forgotten realm of dreams where tenderness and understanding reigned, a place where all her worries could dissolve in embrace.

“Who knows! It’s all just madness!” he replied with a hint of irritation, but within his voice, laced with roughness, there was a palpable tension. It was clear he was interested in her, despite the harshness of his tone, as he sought answers to the questions that invisibly pulled him toward her.

Inside the girl, the turmoil of her mind was mounting: what on earth was she doing here? Why hadn’t Ichigo told her about his battles with monsters, about the dangers looming over them like dark specters? Yet at some point, her consciousness quietly whispered that perhaps she didn’t need to know right now. Maybe all she truly wanted was to lose herself in his gaze, to dissolve in his presence, and remain with him for a lifetime like a sea wave washing away all traces of the past on the shore.

It was as if life itself had deceived her into this moment, where only he and she existed, while the rest of the world rightfully lingered in the shadows, where unyielding rules were forgotten. She understood that the real lesson lay not just in grasping the circumstances but in finding peace amidst the endless questions that life presents to us. After all, sometimes it’s unnecessary to untangle the complexities of reality — it’s enough to live in the moment, as if each breath were filled with the sacred meaning that only love can impart.

Oh, if only she understood what was to come — if she could see how suffering would fill her nights, with thoughts of him wandering through her mind like shadows, leaving behind neither bright hope nor peace. Her soul, like a hungover breeze over the rosy fields of youth, already sensed the troubling harvest of emotions that awaited her, yet she remained deaf to the call of reason, which tried to dispel the fog of uncertainty.

And suddenly, his voice, with a slight touch of insistence, pulled her from her spiraling thoughts: “You need to go back.” This phrase swept through her mind like a storm cloud, piercing the clarity of the sky. Before she could fully grasp what was happening, her hands, like clouds, slipped away from where they had rested against his, loosening the bond that seemed so strong.

Everything around her grew quieter, the entire nature hushed in anticipation. The warmth that had once burned in her heart gave way to a cold wind — emptiness, like eternal silence, enveloped her. In that dark moment, a familiar, anxious voice called to her from somewhere far away, 

 urging her to return to the reality from which she had emerged.

It was Kurosaki, earnestly calling her name, trying to awaken not just from a dark dream but from the very soul tangled in aspirations and fantasies.

“Ohiko! Ohiko! Please, wake up!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with silent pain, shattering the lingering silence like thunder on a clear day. And at last, when she slightly opened her eyes, her face reflected that same puzzled vigilance often found in a world shrouded in the veil of dreams. She reached  out her hand, whispering into the air.

“Who is he?” the boy questioned anxiously, looking at her with confusion and bewilderment, trying to unravel the mystery. Yet in every word, there was a readiness to hear about that other reality she spoke of — a reality slipping through his fingers like a shadow.

“I want to go back,” she continued to whisper, her gaze fixed on the void as if trying to disperse the clouds hiding the morning dawn. That “back” reminded her of a place where everything was calm and peaceful.

In that moment, Ichigo stood in awkward bewilderment, like a wanderer lost in the fog of his friend’s consciousness, unable to discern the fissures in her inner world. He watched as the color faded from her cheeks, and, having glimpsed all the dark images of the past, he rushed to save her from the ravenous Hollow that was ready to devour her light in the blink of an eye. He barely caught her as she fell into the embrace of death — his heart clenched at the sight of her losing consciousness, sinking into a realm filled with anxiety and fear. Now her words sounded chaotic and indistinct, turning into nonsensical ramblings, like a crossroads of lost paths.

He didn’t understand who she was talking about when her weary lips whispered of someone who wasn’t there; he couldn’t grasp what drove her to this ghostly “back.” This abyss of metaphorical meanings tormented his soul, and even if he were to unravel the complex tangle of her thoughts, he would not allow his friend to confront his own internal “Hollow” — the dark entity that existed beyond rational understanding, which seemed to consume not only his physical form but all of his life’s dreams.

࣪ 𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

A week passed, then another, and another, as days slipped by unnoticed in the tumultuous whirlwind of life, leaving behind only the eclipse of sweet memories.

She couldn’t forget that mysterious young man who relentlessly beckoned her, like a star drawing a traveler through the dark expanses of night, calling her back to a world where logic and reality blossomed in a dazzling play of the mind.

At night, under the cover of darkness, when the world slipped into the realm of dreams, her soul was tormented by questions that wouldn’t release their grip on her thoughts: “Who is he, really? Why do I feel an irresistible urge to be with him? Why? Why do I need him so much?” These questions, like shadows, glided through her consciousness, and it seemed that each one pierced her world, leaving only cold traces behind.

And honestly, she could never find the answers to those tormenting questions, no matter how hard she tried to penetrate the mysteries of her heart, guarded in the dusty tomes of lost wisdom. The only feeling she sensed was a painful attraction to the unknown young man, as if he were a dazzling light in the boundless expanse of her memory.

Her heart ached so sharply, it felt as though the thorns of suffering were blooming within her chest, and tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving damp trails on her skin like raindrops seeking understanding, yet unable to find it. In this state, where each breath seemed to awaken confusion, she involuntarily whispered to herself:

“I want to be with him… I want to be with him…” she repeated, her voice filled with confusion — an echo of loss in an empty hall. She couldn’t quite understand why this unfamiliar boy stirred such feelings within her, but the nature of those emotions both fascinated and terrified her, like the darkness into which silence fearlessly descends.

ָ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ָ🐇་��࿐ָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ָ🐇་༘࿐ָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ָ🐇་༘࿐

Thoughts of him, the one with that mysterious charm, came to her daily, never leaving her for even a moment; like an unruly wind, they swirled around her consciousness, filling all the space between dreams and reality. And then, when she encountered Ichigo again, swept up in a wave of emotion, she rushed towards him, sobbing loudly: “I don’t know how you did this, but bring me back! I’ll forgive you!”

Such a desperate confession left the boy in confusion — his eyes widened in surprise, a hint of misunderstanding fluttered in his soul, and a desire to help arose in his heart, even though he didn’t know how. He was certainly willing to be the protector against the invisible enemy that hindered their interaction with reality, but alas, it was difficult for him to grasp that his close friend, tearful and desperate, was asking him for something infinitely deep and troubling. This plea sounded like a prayer that couldn’t be expressed in words, and despite his repeated attempts to question Ohiko, he remained in the dark, much like being in an abandoned room where the echoes of memories led nowhere.

"I can’t take this anymore… I can’t go on like this! I need 'him,' I need to touch him again…" she whispered, drowning in tears and pressing against the boy's chest, seeking refuge from the storm that had erupted within her soul, where chaos and confusion reigned. Her voice dissolved into the air, like a vague call to the universe, and their binding moment was seized by her, like the only lifebuoy in an ocean of sorrow.

She felt like she was losing her mind — caught in the internal chaos of thoughts and feelings that seemed to envelop her like a damp fog on a cold morning. All her aspirations and struggles intertwined in a single knot, leaving only streams of sorrow, heavy as blankets that her weary heart could not shake off.

How often in life does pain go unrecognized by those around us, like shadows dancing but never intersecting? It is not just a loss but a confrontation with the very essence of suffering — when every breath is infused with the bitter realization that perhaps no one can truly comprehend the depths of her longing. Ichigo, though nearby, seemed to linger behind a curtain, unaware of the full force of her internal struggle, as if he were an outside observer in a play where the actors had forgotten their roles and become entangled in the script.

As she wept, she continued to knock persistently on the closed doors, hoping that one day they would open, bringing light into the dark corridors of her troubled soul.

And then, for a moment, the entire world — this poor, bustling cycle — seemed to vanish, melting away into the air, leaving only her and an atmosphere enveloped in gentle tranquility. She felt warmth — warmth without boundaries, so ethereal and soothing that it seemed to penetrate her to the core, pulling her from the darkness.

Someone's long fingers softly brushed against her cheek, gently wiping away her tears, like a lost angel seeking to bring her back to life. How strange that touch was — the tips of the fingers were so cold, almost icy, yet at the same time, they radiated something incredible that warmed her skin, dispelling the fog in her heart.

As she opened her eyes, she felt time freeze around her, and looking up, she saw “him” again — the one she so dearly longed to see. In his face, in the depths of his mysterious gaze, all her hidden dreams merged into one. It was a moment when inner peace met desire, and all her questions, like timid shadows, faded away in his presence, sinking into the depths of the sea.

“It’s… it’s you… Why am I…” Her voice faltered as he brushed his thumb gently over her lips, trying to seal off the tumult of thoughts that threatened to spill out again and again.

“Shh… I can’t explain it. Just as I can’t explain why being near you has made me softer… But… I wanted this too,” he whispered softly in his unique voice, his breath brushing against her face, warming her skin like a summer wind carrying the promise of storms.

“But… it doesn’t make sense for two strangers to need each other so much,” she replied, realizing that their fingers—genuine threads of fate—had intertwined, creating an invisible bond between their souls.

“Doesn’t it matter to you?” he asked with irony, knowing that something far worse loomed ahead than their current turmoil of emotions, like the stillness that precedes a powerful hurricane.

In this interplay of words and touches lies the depth of human nature — how often do we seek solace in the arms of those who were once strangers, viewing the unfurled wings of fate through a lens of fear? Their turmoil serves as a reminder of how often we, wanderers in this vast universe, become lost in our quest to answer the question: “What is true connection?” And so, like two ships in a stormy sea, their hearts collide, leaving behind gentle ripples that could soon transform into fierce storms.

He touched the tip of her nose, whispering with a strained voice, “What are you doing to me, woman? You’re making me not only softer but also filling me with a desire to protect you willingly — something I’ve never enjoyed doing… Yet, I understand that we will never see each other again,” he said, his voice quiet and heavy, hiding the pain and despair within.

As if in response to his dire confession, Ohiko tightened her grip on his fingers. Every movement she made in that moment was an attempt to cling to something significant that was at risk of being lost.

“But why? Why do you say we will never see each other again?” Her voice trembled like a worn string, and within that tremor was so much hope that even the stars, holding their breath, seemed to be hidden from her sorrow.

She was afraid of being separated from him again.

Every part of her longed to dissolve into his warmth, to become a part of his world where worries had no place, leaving behind all the sorrows that tormented her soul.

"I could tell you that we can't be together because I would only bring you pain and despair, that I am a dangerous being, driven by instincts that dictate I should only kill. You would be positioned as the enemy, but even that wouldn't stop me..."

I am not merely a non-human; I am something more, a being that lives within Ichigo — a spirit embodied in the form of his sword. And although I possess my own body and my own emotions, I am still inextricably linked to his soul, like tentacles reaching from the depths of the ocean to the surface.

I can’t escape from here, no matter how much I wish I could; my life is in his hands, like a message sealed in a crystal bottle, forever carried away by a turbulent sea into the endless distance. And damn it, that’s not even the main issue!

He paused for a few seconds, lifting her chin to meet her gaze — eyes filled with fear, like light and shadow engaged in an unending struggle.

“The thing is, I think about you; about how you don’t need someone like me in your life. I won’t be there for you in the most beautiful moments of your life, I won’t be able to give you a future, I won’t be able to bring you joy and happiness…” His voice trembled, heavy with a tension where lofty dreams collided with harsh reality. 

Do we, in our pursuit of love, sometimes forget that this feeling can be both a balm for the heart and a poison for the soul? A refuge and a trap at the same time? His inner torment served as a reminder that true happiness rarely aligns with our vision of an ideal.

And so, standing at the edge of this chasm of emotions, he realized that love, like light, could be pervasive, yet often remained elusive for those condemned to be torn apart by their desires and reality. In this loneliness, in this agonizing internal conflict, they both had to navigate the intricate labyrinth of their stories, leaving behind doubts and insecurities, gazing up at the unreachable stars that promised hope while undeniably casting shadows of despair. 

With each of his words, tear after tear, she struggled to accept the harsh reality — a world that intruded upon their enclosed space like an unexpected guest. It seemed as if she didn’t care about anything; the only thing she desired was to be free of burdensome thoughts and to remain with him forever, despite the curses and unbearable circumstances.

But before she could utter a single word, the boy held her tightly, as if trying to conceal the last remnants of their happiness within his embrace. And before succumbing to this cycle of pain, he whispered softly, “Please, forget me as if I never existed. Don’t think of me, I beg you, don’t suffer because of me… just forgive me.”

Those words, spoken with the weight of a breaking soul, hung in the air like autumn fog, eager to envelop everything around them.

In that moment, he gave her at least what little he could — the one thing he had ever possessed: his unwavering affection in this final chord of their connection. This gift, encapsulated in words, became a sort of farewell testament, filled with sincerity and bitterness, which perhaps only deepens the understanding that love is not always about happiness and joy, but sometimes the highest form of self-sacrifice. Sometimes, we must give up the most precious things so that another can find freedom, realizing that not every bond is meant to last forever.

It was a kiss imbued with sensuality, tenderness, and that mysterious depth that sometimes connects different souls, like two fireflies wandering through the vast expanse of the night sky. Their love was so inexplicable that it seemed a paradox, one that philosophers might ponder, trying to decipher this algebraic beverage of emotions.

Through this kiss, Ohiko's tears flowed stronger down her cheeks like rain on fragrant earth, leaving traces like cursed marks of inevitability. She clung to his neck tightly, with all her strength, as if fearing that his alienation would become permanent. Inside her, conflicting emotions raged — the understanding that she needed to let him go, yet not wanting to sever the fragile thread that connected their hearts in that moment, like a bee collecting nectar, reluctant to part from the flower that would be lost along with her.

It was soft and pleasant, like a morning breeze penetrating an autumn day, when the sun was just beginning to spread its rays; but, as it often is in moments of happiness, everything came to a halt in an instant.

She opened her eyes again and saw Ichigo — his face reflected concern as he gently called her name, like an incantation that could return them to that happy illusion. Yet, instead of responding to him, she simply turned away, gliding silently like a shadow and leaving behind only a faint trace of her presence, like the scent of blooming cherry blossoms lost in the bustle of spring.

Ichigo stood frozen in place, rooted in a state of unchanging despair, his eyes, once filled with hope, now heavy with sadness. He watched her retreat, and suddenly felt a single tear slip from the corner of his eye…

࣪ ָ☾.༘˚⋆𐙚｡��𖦹.✧˚𔘓࣪ ָ☾.𖠋♡𖠋༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚࣪ ָ☾.࣪ ָ

На русском

ᥫ᭡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ᥫ᭡

Как же её угораздило попасть в такую, прямо скажем, затруднительную историю? Это словно превратилось в некий сон, где реальность и фантазия переплетаются в невыносимом танце. Она, бедная душа, как будто окончательно сошла с ума, погружаясь в бесконечные размышления о нём, том юном создании, что неожиданно ворвался в её жизнь. Ночи, безмятежно сменяющие друг друга, теряются в бескрайних полях её тревожных мыслей — она не ест, не спит и лишь он, как неумолимый призрак, бродит в её сознании.

Пожалуй, можно было бы предположить, что с этой девушкой что-то неладное, однако в этом невидимом плену скрывается поразительная истина о самом человеческом существовании. Как ни странно, но именно в такие моменты, когда сердце сжато тревогой, мы обретаем наивысшую степень чувственности, позволяющую чувствовать — прощаться с отчаянием и прощать себя за то, что так легко поддаёмся флёру страсти.

Всему виной тот странный мальчишка, с извивающимся смехом и таинственной притягательностью, которого она встретила случайно, однако забыть его не в силах. Его облик словно отпечатался в её душе, вызывая вихрь эмоций, куда более стремительных и мощных, чем любой шторм на море. И, как лишь у немногих бывает, она поймала себя на мысли, что именно в взгляде заключено нечто большее; возможно, это был дар — дар любви, обрамленный в нежные чувства, который может преобразить жизнь человека, стирая границы между реальным и воображаемым.

Ичиго Куросаки — тот самый парнишка с ярко рыжими волосами, словно огненные языки, которые никогда не желают угаснуть. Умен, красив и хоть немного вспыльчив, но всегда готов прийти на помощь. Из его натуры исходило нечто светлое, и, казалось бы, в его присутствии тёмные углы жизни расцветали надеждой.

Охико нравился он лишь как хороший друг, не более, однако… однако, как это часто бывает в жизни, она случайно встретила «его» — того, кто неожиданно обосновался в её сердце, словно путник, найдя пристанище в уютной нише, охваченной теплом. Этот загадочный человек стал для неё символом неосуществимых желаний, мечтой, которая как алый мотив проходит красной нитью через её мысли.

Необъяснимым образом, девушка обладала необычным даром — она могла видеть всяких призраков и прочую нечисть, которые порой проскальзывали в её обычный мир, придавая ему оттенок волшебства, но и одновременно внушая тревогу и страх. Это была награда и проклятие, искушение, которое влекло и терзало её дух.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Одним холодным вечером, когда она шла по пустым улицам, словно по безлюдным страницам засохшего чертежа, её мысли были столь же пусты, как осенний ветер, проносящийся мимо деревьев, сбрасывающих последние листья. Она чувствовала, как тревога и скука сливаются в нечто единое и тёмное, словно ночь, забирающая свет.

Ей лишь хотелось поскорее побыть наедине с самой собой, укрыться в бездне забвения как в уютном одеяле, чтобы не слышать призывов внешнего мира и забыть о грёзах завтрашнего дня, которые всё так же окутывали её, настойчиво и непрошено врываясь в сознание. Это был тот самый парадокс жизни: порой, чтобы обрести покой, нужно было окунуться в собственные страхи и надежды, встретиться лицом к лицу с призраками, что обитают в углах сердца, и лишь тогда, возможно, удастся найти ключ к искомому счастью.

Но увы, её планы, будто хрупкие куколки, легко разлетались в прах, когда перед ней, подобно грозной тени, возникло чудище. Его голова была увенчана костяной маской, напоминающей деформированный череп, как будто сама смерть решила нарисовать свои ужасы на лицах существ, бродящих по этому миру. От этого зловещего создания веяло такой опасностью, что в воздухе закипала некая особая вязкость, дарующая ощутимое чувство предчувствия несчастья.

Охико даже не успела осознать, что её судьба круто изменяется, как чудище уже схватило её в свои цепкие и громадные лапы, словно неизбежная участь, стремящаяся поглотить её целиком — этот момент, в котором времени не существует, а лишь бьётся пульс ужаса, оставляя за пределами законы логики. Она в страшном испуге уже начала прощаться с жизнью, как вдруг в этот мрак и хаос, наполнивший её сознание, вмешалось чудо — спасение, нагрянувшее как луч света сквозь завесу тьмы, пронзая её душу.

В такие мгновения становится ясным, что сама жизнь полна парадоксов — в один миг можно стоять на краю пропасти, в следующий же стать частью чего-то гораздо большего, чем мы могли бы предположить. Каждая встреча с тёмными силами, несомненно, оставляет шрамы, но в то же время она дарит возможность отразить свет, даже если он кажется едва заметным.

Кажется, её спас Ичиго — его фигура в черном, словно сверкающий мрак, промелькнула так стремительно, что она не успела зафиксировать его облик, оставив лишь в сердце тёплую искру надежды. Эта мимолетная тень, готовая проложить путь через хмурое пространство, стала для неё символом спасения.

И вот, в один миг, чудище исчезло, словно стыдливый призрак, растворяющийся в утреннем тумане. Вместо него появился белый свет, яркий, ослепляющий — как радиance истины, оттеняющее легкость бытия. Однако этот свет оказался лишь предвестником нового страха: она, как птица с подрезанными крыльями, начала падать вниз, в бездну, где её ожидало только одно — риск разбиться на смерть.

Она падала, падала, и казалось, что небо трансформировалось в бесконечный лабиринт зла — мрачное и угрожающее, где каждый заворот уводил её всё дальше от спасительного света. Небо, изначально темное и ночное, вдруг претерпело метаморфозу, обращаясь в высокие стеклянные небоскрёбы, перевёрнутые, как бы после страшного землетрясения.

Падая, она испытывала ужасный страх, боясь разбиться на мелкие осколки, однако её падение оказалось удивительно плавным и безболезненным, что вызывало в душе легкое недоумение — как будто сама судьба решила оберечь её от жестоких реалий. Странное ощущение, учитывая, что она приземлилась на стеклянный пол, отражающий её тревожные переживания, как зеркало, скрывающее истинное лицо.

Еле встав, она оглянулась и поняла, что пространство вокруг неё так же странно реальное, как и в тот момент, когда она падала, словно путешествовал по иллюзорной реальности, где законы физики и логики потеряли свою силу. Голубое, почти прозрачное небо тянулось над ней, а облака, словно нежные мечты, плыли мимо, оставляя за собой легкий след. Повсюду возносились небоскрёбы, которые, казалось, имели свой собственный пульс — они заполняли пространство, как думы, охватывающие сердце человека в моменты крайнего смятения .

Она не понимала, где находилась, и, честно говоря, не могла уловить, как же так получилось, что всего пару секунд назад мир её казался совершенно иным, словно разрозненные фрагменты реальности, разбросанные по весёлым страницам невидимого альбома. Всё вокруг производило впечатление сладкого, но тревожного сна — мир, где столкнулись логика и безумие, словно сцена из театра, где игроки потеряли нить сценария и бездумно бродят по карнавальному хаосу.

Мысли кружились в её голове, не позволяя собрать всё в единую мозаику, тот же шорох страха, дружно нагнетающий смятение. «Что же делать дальше?» — думала она, сталкиваясь с сюрреалистическим пейзажем, рисуемым её воображением. И в этот момент, когда осознание настигает с великой тяжестью, она приняла волевое решение — встать и идти вперёд, подчиняясь неумолимому зову надежды найти выход из этого запутанного лабиринта.

Однако, не успела она сделать и шагу, как в воздухе вдруг раздались шаги, тихие и бесшумные, как предвестие грозы. Чувство тревожного ожидания, тень, окутывало её, когда к ней приблизился некто, который, кажется, знал о ней больше, чем она о себе. Он наблюдал за ней, изучая её негодование и смятение с неким пронзительным вниманием, которое было одновременно завораживающим и угнетающим.

Обернувшись, она встретила его взор — это был »он», удивительный призрак в белом, порождённый самими небесами, внешне похожий на Ичиго, но с исключением в цветах. Его волосы, как свежевыпавший снег, были белоснежными, такая же кожа, ослепительно белая, а одежда, безусловно, дополняла этот образ, отстранённый от привычного мира.

Но глаза его, о! Эти глаза — они были нечто иное, чем просто отражение света: они манили, словно обручение с самой сутью жизни. В них таилась необычайная красота, влекущая за собой, как лёгкие волны, уносящие человека в бескрайние дали неизвестных желаний. Эта красота была в их глубине, в загадочной печали и бесконечной мудрости, содержащей во множестве тайн, что укрыты от быстрого взгляда обычного человека.

Неосознанно она оказалась в потоке размышлений — возможно, именно через столкновение с такими уникальными существами мы обогащаем понимание нашей жизни. Каждый шаг, каждой встрече, — всё это является не просто случайностями, а важными вехами на пути к себе, на пути к обретению смысла и любви, которая пронизывает каждое мгновение нашего существования. И в этом белом, хрупком облике она почувствовала, как открываются новые горизонты, готовые к исследованию подобно свету, пробивающемуся через плотную завесу ночи.

Он манил её, манил, словно магнетическая сила, покидающая тепло берега моря и затягивающая в свои бездонные глубины — прикоснуться к нему, утонуть в его золотистых глазах, потеряться в этой смутной радости и забыться навсегда, как если бы время потеряло своё значение, оставив за собой лишь призрак мгновения.

— Кто… кто ты? — наконец спросила она, её голос звучал тихо, как шёпот ветра среди листвы, а взгляд её оставался прикованным к нему, не в силах оторваться от этой гипнотической ауры, окутывающей его с головы до пят.

— Я… не думаю, что ты поймёшь, даже если я объясню тебе… — произнёс он, слова его текли, будто мелодия, наполняя воздух невидимой энергией. — Всё, что тебе нужно знать, так это то, что я внутреннее воплощение Ичиго.

Этот ответ вышел из его уст с ноткой тайны, и всё равно он ощущал, как его собственное сердце колебалось в танце с её эмоциями, будто космические силы безмолвно толкали их к единству.

И в эту нелепую игру судеб он становился для неё неким отражением её самого внутреннего «я», как два зеркала, сталкивающиеся, чтобы создать нечто большее, чем простая сумма отражений. В его глазах, полных обаяния и неопределённых жажд, она увидела возможность создания новой реальности, в которой даже в самом глубоком размышлении возможно обнаружить то, что нас связывает, несмотря на хрупкость, названную жизнью.

Так, стоя перед ним, она, как будто, осознала: каждый из нас — это не только собиратель шрамов и воспоминаний, это также творец своей собственной сущности, готовый исследовать неизвестное, принимая как тьму, так и свет, пребывающие в едином танце существования— в этом единении внутреннего и внешнего прячутся ответы на вопросы, которыми мы живем, пока не находим тот самый свет, что приведёт к истине, готовая это принять.

Они оба смотрели друг на друга, и у Охико возникло странное ощущение, будто она знала его целую жизнь — будто все её переживания, радости и тайные слёзы заплетались в один узор, так знакомый и близкий, хотя они встретились лишь сейчас. В этом моменте времени за пределами жизни, раскрывалось нечто большее, чем простая случайная встреча — это были непостижимые нити судьбы, связанные невидимыми струнами, ведающие о судьбе и её непредсказуемых поворотах.

Они бы так и продолжали неподвижно смотреть друг на друга, погружаясь в бездну своих чувств, однако первая, как будто чувствительное создание, отступила на шаг назад, оставляя пространство для дыхания между ними. Этот жест, казалось, символизировал её внутреннюю борьбу — она стремилась к близости, но ощущала в этом блуждание, как будто мир вокруг них в этот миг вдруг вкусил прощальную печаль.

— Как я сюда попала? — с любопытством и одновременно с легким смущением спросила она, и, хотя в душе её жила уверенность, что такие мелочи, как обстоятельства, имеют неблагозвучное значение, ей в то же время остро хотелось продолжать этот разговор.

Ей хотелось лишь смотреть в эти золотистые глаза, погружаться в их мягкое сияние, это было забытое царство грёз, где царила нежность и понимание, в объятиях которого терялись бы все тревоги.

— Чтоб я знал! Это какая-то чертовщина! — произнёс он с ноткой раздражения, но в его голосе, переплетённом с грубостью, можно было уловить живое волнение. Он явно был заинтересован в ней, несмотря на всю внешнюю жесткость своего тона иская ответы на вопросы, что невидимо тянули его к ней.

Внутри девушки нарастали мытарства разума: какого черта она здесь? Почему Ичиго не поведал ей о своих сражениях с чудовищами, об опасностях, что витают над их головами как тёмные призраки? Однако в какой-то момент, её сознание тихо шептало, что может, ей сейчас и не нужно это знать? Может, всё, что ей на самом деле хочется — это забыться в его взгляде, раствориться в его присутствии и остаться с ним на всю жизнь как морская волна, смывающая на берегу все следы прошлого.

Словно сама жизнь обманом привела её в этот момент, где существовал лишь он и она, а остальной мир справедливо оставался в тени, где незыблемые правила забывались. Она понимала, что настоящий урок заключается не только в понимании обстоятельств, но и в умении обрести покой в бескрайних вопросах, которые сама жизнь ставит перед нами. В конце концов, иногда не нужно распутывать клубок реальности — достаточно жить в мгновении, как если бы каждый вздох был наполнен священным смыслом, присущим одной лишь любви.

Ох, если бы она только понимала, что это такое — если бы ей было дано увидеть, как страдания будут заполнять её ночи, когда мысли о нём будут как тени, бродить по её сознанию, не оставляя ни светлой надежды, ни покоя. Её душа, как похмельный ветерок в румяных полях юности, уже предчувствовала тот тревожный урожай чувств, который её ждёт, но она оставалась глуха к зову разума, который старался рассеять туман неопределённости.

И вдруг его голос, с легким налётом настойчивости, вырвал её из витков размышлений: «Тебе нужно вернуться». Эта фраза пронеслась сквозь её мысли, как грозовая туча, тот час рассекающая прозрачность неба. Она не успела осознать происходящее, как её ладони, будто облака, покинули прижатые к ладоням парня, ослабляя ту связь, что казалась столь крепкой.

Всё вокруг стало тише, вся природа затихала в ожидании. Жар, ранее пылавший в её сердеце, уступил место холодному ветру — пустота, как вечное безмолвие, окутала её. В этом мрачном моменте раздался знакомый, обеспокоенный голос, доносившийся где-то издалека, призывающий её вернуться к той реальности, откуда она вышла.

Это был Куросаки, который с тревогой звал её имя пытаясь разбудить не тёмный сон, а саму душу, запутавшуюся в стремлениях и мечтаниях.

— Охико! Охико! Прошу тебя, очнись! — восклицал он, его голос, полный безмолвной боли, разрывал затянувшуюся тишину, как гром среди ясного неба. И наконец, когда она приоткрыла глаза, на её лице отразилась та самая недоуменная настороженность, которая порой бывает в мире, покрытом пеленой снов. Она потянула свою ручку, шепча в воздух: »Где он?»

— Кто он? — обеспокоенно переспросил парень, глядя на неё с растерянностью и непониманием пытаясь разгадывать загадку, однако в каждом слове чувствовалась готовность услышать ту другую реальность, о которой она говорила — реальность, ускользающую от него как тень сквозь пальцы.

— Я хочу обратно, — продолжала шептать она, её взгляд был устремлён в пустоту, будто пытаясь рассеять облака, скрывающие утреннюю зарю. Это «обратно» напоминало ей о том месте, где всё было тихо и умиротворённо —

В данный момент Ичиго находился в неловком недоумении, словно странник, заблудившийся в тумане сознания своей подруги, не в силах разглядеть прорехи её внутреннего мира. Он видел, как румянец её лица увядал, и, просмотрев все мрачные картины прошлого, со всей отчаянной поспешностью успел спасти её от голодного Пустого, который во мгновение ока готов был поглотить её свет. Он едва успел поймать её, когда она падала в объятия смерти — в тот момент его сердце сжалось, когда он увидел, как она потеряла сознание, погружаясь в мир, где царила тревога и страх, а сейчас её слова звучали хаотично, невнятно, обернувшись бессмысленным бредом, как перекрёсток заблудившихся дорог.

Он не понимал, о ком она говорит, когда её усталые губы шептали о ком-то, кого не было рядом, не мог осознать, что же толкает её к этому призрачному «обратно». Эта бездна метафорических смыслов терзала его душу, и даже если бы ему довелось распутать сложный клубок её мыслей, он не допустил бы, чтобы подруга снова столкнулась с его внутренним «пустым» — тёмной сущностью, существующей по ту сторону разумного понимания, которая, казалось, поглощала не только физическую форму, но и все жизненные мечты.࣪

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

С того времени прошла неделя, а затем и вторая, и третья, как незаметно пробегают дни в смятенном вихре жизни, оставляя за собой лишь затмение сладости воспоминаний.

Она не могла забыть этого таинственного юноши, который неумолимо манил её, словно звезда, тянущая путника сквозь темные дали ночи, звал к себе обратно — в тот мир, где логика и реальность расцветали в феерической игре ума.

По ночам, под покровом мрака, когда мир уходил в царство снов, её душу терзали вопросы, которые не отпускали её разум: «Кто же всё-таки он? Почему я чувствую непреодолимую необходимость быть с ним? Почему? Почему я так нуждаюсь в нём?» Эти вопросы как тени, скользили по её сознанию, и, казалось, каждое из них пронзало её мир, оставляя за собой только холодные следы.

И честно говоря, она так и не могла найти ответ на эти терзающие вопросы, как ни старалась проникнуть в тайны своего сердца хранимая в запылённых книгах утраченная мудрость. Единственное, что она ощущала — это болезненное влечение к неведомому юноше, будто он был ослепительным светом в бескрайних просторах её памяти.

Сердце её ныло так остро, как будто в груди распускались шипы страдания, а слёзы сами собой катились по щекам, оставляя за собой влажные следы на её коже, как капли дождя, что требуют понимания, но никак не могут получить его. В этом состоянии, где каждый вздох словно пробуждал смятение, она невольно шептала себе:

— Хочу к нему… хочу к нему… — повторяла она, её голос был полон растерянности— эхо потерь в пустом зале. Она не понимала толком, почему этот незнакомый юноша вызывал в ней такие чувства, но сама природа этих эмоций завораживала и пугает её одновременно как мрак, в который бесстрашно уходит безмолвие.ָ

𓂃 ࣪˖ ָ🐇་༘࿐ָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ָ🐇་༘࿐ָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ָ🐇་༘࿐

Мысли о нём, обладателе того загадочного обаяния, ежедневно приходили к ней, не оставляя ни на миг; как непокорный ветер, они вились вокруг её сознания, заполняя всё пространство между мечтами и реальностью. И вот, когда она вновь встретила Ичиго, охваченная волной эмоций, она бросилась к нему, заливисто рыдая: »Я не знаю, как ты это сделал, но верни меня обратно! Прощу тебя!»

Такое отчаянное признание повергло парня в замешательство — его глаза раскрылись от удивления, в его душе затрепетал оттенок непонимания, и в сердце возникло желание помочь, хотя он и не знал, как. Он был, безусловно, готов стать тем самым защитником от невидимого врага, затруднившего их взаимодействие с реальностью, но, увы, ему было тяжело осознать, что его близкий друг, весь в слезах, просит его о чем-то бесконечно глубоком и тревожном. Эта мольба звучала как молитва, которую невозможно выразить словами, но даже после неоднократных попыток расспрашивать Охико, он всё же оставался в потемках, словно в заброшенной комнате, где эхо воспоминаний ни к чему не вело.

— Я больше так не могу… Я больше не могу! Мне нужен «он», мне нужно вновь прикоснуться к нему… — шептала она, заливаясь слезами и прижимаясь к груди парня ищи в его объятиях приют от бури, что разразилась в её душе, где царила неразбериха и смятение. Её голос растворялся в воздухе, как неясный призыв к вселенной, их сковывающий момент был схвачен ею, словно единственный спасательный круг в океане печали.

Она чувствовала себя сумасшедшей — в этом внутреннем хаосе мыслей и чувств, что, казалось, накрывали её, как мокрый туман в холодное утро. Все её стремления и муки переплетались в единой клубке, оставляя лишь потоки печали, давящими— тяжёлые одеяла, которые усталое сердце не в силах был свергнуть.

Как часто в жизни бывает, что боль остается непонятой теми, кто рядом, как тени, что двигаются в танце, но никогда не пересекаются. Это не просто потеря, но столкновение с самой сущностью страдания — когда каждый вздох пропитан горьким осознанием, что, возможно, никто не способен распознать истинные глубины её тоски. Ичиго, хоть и был рядом, оставался как бы за завесой, не осознавая всей силы её внутренней борьбы, как будто сам был сторонним наблюдателем в пьесе, где актёры забыли свои роли и запутались в сценарии.

Так плача, она продолжала упорно стучаться в закрытые двери, надеясь, что однажды они откроются, подарив свет в темные коридоры её смятённой души.

И вот, на мгновение, весь мир, этот бедный и суетливый круговорот, будто бы исчез, растаял в воздухе, оставив лишь её и атмосферу, окутанную нежным покоем. Она почувствовала тепло — тепло, не ведающее границ, такое неземное и приятное, что, казалось, оно пронизывает её до самых глубин, вытаскивая из тьмы.

Чьи-то длинные пальцы легко коснулись её щеки, осторожно вытирая слёзы, будто заблудившийся ангел стремящийся вернуть её к жизни. Как же странно было это прикосновение — подушечки пальцев были такими холодными, почти ледяными, но одновременно они излучали нечто невероятное, что согревало её кожу, разгоняя туман в её сердце.

Открыв глаза, она ощутила, как вокруг неё замерло время, и, взглянув вверх, вновь увидела «его» — того, кого так сильно хотела видеть. В его лице, в его глубоком и загадочном взоре сливались все её потаённые мечты. Это был миг, когда внутреннее спокойствие соединилось с желанием, и все вопросы, как несмелые тени, растворились в его присутствии, утопая в морских глубинах.

— Ты… это ты… Почему я… — её голос захлебнулся, когда он коснулся большим пальцем её губ пытаясь запечатать тот смятенный поток мыслей, который снова и снова порывался вырваться наружу.

— Тсс… Объяснить я этого не могу. Ровно как и то, что рядом с тобой я стал мягче… Но… я тоже этого хотел, — тихо шептал он своим необычным голосом, прикасаясь к её лицу дыханием, которое обжигало её кожу, словно летний ветер, несущий обещание бурь.

— Но… но так не бывает, чтобы два незнакомца так нуждались друг в друге, — отвечала она, понимая, что их пальцы— искренние нити судьбы, переплелись воедино, создавая незримую связь между душами.

— А тебе не плевать? — с иронией спросил он понимая, что надвигается нечто гораздо худшее, чем текущая неразбериха их эмоций, как предгроз��вая тишина, которая предшествует сильному урагану.

В этой игре слов и прикосновений кроется глубина человеческой природы — как часто мы ищем успокоения в объятиях тех, кто до этого был чужим, глядя сквозь призму страха на расправленные крылья судьбы. Их метания напоминают о том, как часто мы, путники в этом мироздании, заблудились, стремясь найти ответ на вопрос: «Что такое истинная связь?» И вот, словно два корабля в бурном море, их сердца соприкасаются, оставляя за собой легкие волны, что вскоре могут превратиться в жуткие шторма.

Он коснулся её кончика носика, надсадно шепча: — Что ты со мной делаешь, женщина? Ты делаешь меня не только мягким, но и вселяешь во мне желание защищать тебя добровольно, чего я никогда не любил делать… Однако я понимаю, что мы больше никогда не увидимся, — произнёс он с тихим и тяжёлым голосом, за которым скрывалась боль и отчаяние.

Словно в ответ на его бедственное признание, Охико сжала крепче его пальцы. Каждое её движение, в этот момент, стало попыткой уцепиться за что-то важное, что угрожало быть потерянным.

— Но почему? Почему ты говоришь, что мы больше не увидимся? — её голос дрожал, как уставшая от метаний струна, и в этой дрожи скрывалось столько надежды, что даже сами звёзды, затаив дыхание, казались укрытыми от её печали.

Она боялась вновь разлучаться с ним.

Всё её существо стремилось раствориться в его тепле, перетвориться в часть его мира, где тревоги не имели места, и оставить позади все печали, что терзали её душу.

— Я бы мог сказать, что мы не можем быть вместе, потому что я принесу тебе только боль и отчаяние, что я — опасное существо, и мои инстинкты диктуют мне лишь убивать. Ты была бы в позиции противника, но даже это не остановило бы меня…

Я не просто не-человек; я — нечто большее, существо, живущее внутри Ичиго, — дух, облечённый в форму его меча. И хотя я обладаю своим телом и своими собственными эмоциями, я всё ещё неразрывно связан с его душой, как щупальца, тянущиеся от глубин океана к поверхности.

Я не могу отсюда выйти, как бы сильно я этого не желал; моя жизнь в его руках, как запечатанная в хрустальной бутылке с посланием, навсегда унесённая бурным морем в бескрайние дали. И чёрт возьми, даже не в этом, собственно, состоит проблема!

Он на несколько секунд замолчал, подняв её подбородок, чтобы заглянуть ей в глаза — глаза, полные страха, как свет и тень, которые ведут непрекращающуюся борьбу.

— Дело в том, что я думаю о тебе; о том, что в жизни тебе не нужно такое дерьмо как я. Я не смогу быть с тобой в самые прекрасные моменты твоей жизни, не смогу подарить тебе будущее, не смогу приносить радость и счастье… — его голос дрожал, наполненный ээ надрывом, в котором пересекались возвышенные мечты и жестокая реальность.

Неужели мы, в нашем стремлении к любви, порой забываем, что это чувство может быть как бальзамом для сердца, так и отравой для души? Убежищем и ловушкой одновременно? Его внутренние терзания служили напоминанием о том, что подлинное счастье редко соответствует нашему видению идеала.

И вот, стоя на краю этой пропасти чувств, он осознавал, что любовь, как свет, могла быть вездесущей, но часто оказывалась недосягаемой для того, кто осуждён разрываться на части между своим желанием и реальностью. В этом одиночестве, в этом терзающем внутреннем конфликте, они оба должны были разобраться в сложном лабиринте своих историй, оставляя позади сомнения и неуверенности, взирая на недостижимые звёзды, что обещали надежду, но несомненно оставляли за собой тень отчаяния.

И с каждым его словом, слеза за слезой, она не хотела принимать жестокую реальность — мир, который, как нежданный гость, вторгался в их замкнутое пространство. Казалось, ей было всё равно на всё; единственное, что она желала — это лишиться обременяющих дум и навсегда остаться с ним, несмотря на проклятия и невыносимые обстоятельства.

Но прежде чем она успела произнести хоть слово, парень крепко обнял её, словно пытался затерять в своих объятиях последние остатки их счастья. И прежде чем прибегнуть к этому кругу боли, он тихо шептал: «Прошу, забудь меня, будто меня никогда и не было. Не думай обо мне, прошу, не страдай из-за меня… прощу…»

Эти слова, произнесённые с тяжестью разрывающейся души, повисли в воздухе, как осенний туман, стремящийся окутать всё вокруг.

Так, он подарил ей хотя бы то немногое, что мог, то единственное, что у него было когда-либо — свою беззаветную привязанность в этом последнем аккорде их связи. Этот дар, заключённый в словах, стал своего рода прощальным завещанием, наполненным искренностью и горечью, что, возможно, лишь усиливает понимание о том, что любовь — это не всегда счастье и радость, но иногда и высшая форма самопожертвования. Как порой нужно отдать самое дорогое, чтобы другой мог обрести свободу, осознать, что не всякая связь призвана длиться вечно.

Это был поцелуй, наполненный чувственностью, нежностью и той таинственной глубиной, что иногда соприкасает разные души, будто два светлячка бредущие в бескрайние дали ночного неба; любовь их была столь необъяснима, что казалась парадоксом, над которым философы могли бы ломать головы, пытаясь разгадать этот алгебраический напиток чувств.

Сквозь этот поцелуй, слёзы Охико, подобно дождю на душистой земле, текли сильнее по её щекам, оставляя следы как проклятые знаки неотвратимости. Она обнимала его за шею, сжимая крепко, с величайшей силой, как будто боясь, что его отчуждение станет окончательным. Внутри неё бушевали противоречивые эмоции — понимать, что отпускать его нужно, — и в то же время, не желать разрывать ту тонкую нить, что связывала их сердца в этот миг, как пчела, собирающая нектар, не желающая расставаться с цветком, который оборвётся вместе с ней.

Было мягко и приятно, словно утренний бриз, проникающий в осенний день, когда солнце только начинало расправлять свои лучи; но, как бывает во мгновениях счастья, в один миг всё прекратилось.

Она вновь открыла глаза и вновь увидела Ичиго — его лицо выражало беспокойство, он нежно звал её имя, словно заклинание, способное вернуть их к той счастливой иллюзии. Однако, вместо того чтобы ответить ему, она лишь развернулась и, скользя словно тень, бесшумно ушла, оставляя за собой лишь легкий шлейф её присутствия, как аромат цветущей вишни, потерянной в суете весны.

Ичиго остался стоять на месте, укоренённый в стане неизменного отчаяния, его глаза, полные надежды, с сумрачной лёгкостью заполнялись печалью. Он смотрел ей в след, и вдруг ощутил, как в уголке его глаза потекла одна-единственная слеза…࣪ ָ

☾.༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚𔘓࣪ ָ☾.𖠋♡𖠋༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚࣪ ָ☾.࣪ ָ

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hi! I’m here for the redacted boy pairing, I saw it on your blog and honestly wasn’t going to submit, until I read the questions and thought that they were super fun, unique, and interesting! The song I’m fixated on at the moment is This is what Autumn Feels Like by JVKE. The lyric I always look towards too whenever I play it is “Love is like riding a bike, scary but then it’s alright. I got the hang of it, right?” Because I feel like it’s a pretty good analogy! And I definitely relate to always wondering whether or not you’re doing something correctly 😅. My Enneagram Type is 6 apparently (I took the test just now) and I’m an ENFJ if that helps. I don’t think I’ve ever gone out of my way to listen to a ‘gargantuan YouTube essay’ but I do enjoy hearing people ramble about their interests if that’s similar! My childhood imaginary friend was Lucy from Narnia, I used to imagine that we would go horseback riding and I would run away to Narnia with her and never come back. To fall asleep I usually stay up watching shows (current obsession is criminal minds) or doing things like that and then passing out, though if I can’t sleep I usually just count until my brain shuts off. I would love the name Adrianna. I just think it’s really pretty and it has a lot of nickname options! Which is one of the few things I dislike about my current name, there are like 2 things you can call me to shorten it and one of them reminds me too much of my dad for me to feel comfortable with people using it. I think my favorite audio is either the decorating for the solstice one with David (I’m feral for the way he explains it all and then goes out of his way to tell Angel that he doesn’t want them to feel left out and that they’re the most important part of his life!!) or the one where Vincent tells Lovely about the monarchal summit (oh the foreshadowing) and about his first time there (I think it’s called Cuddling with your Vampire bf but I could be wrong). The Redacted boys I don’t get the hype for but don’t necessarily hate are Ollie (sorry dude, I’m sure you’re sweet and all but it’s just not my cup of tea) and Vega (I do actually dislike him! Everyone talks about this one video of him in the imperium but I’m too scared to watch the whole imperium and no one has given me a clear answer on what video it is that he’s not a ass). I’ve read the Lunar Chronicles (highly recommend) so many times that I practically know them by heart. I have a soft spot for twisted Fairy Tales and LET ME TELL YOU THEY DO IT SO WELL! This may be an odd answer but I’d want Damien as my best friend. I feel like we have a lot in common and I love me a sarcastic but incredibly driven kinda guy, that’s how a lot of my friends are. I don’t have a go-to topic when I tired, but everyone can tell because I start giggling like crazy, as if everything is funny 🥲. My gas station drink is the Cumberland farms slushies, I would mix the blue and red to make purple. I’m a sucker for the Spotify daily mixes tbh, bc I don’t have premium and they offer me the most amount of control as far as changing the song, replaying it, and only listening to the ones that I want to, plus it’s curated which I very much enjoy. My guilty pleasure media is probably in part Redacted 😅 but also I enjoy SOME Yandere stories that I find on like fanfic websites. And I’m talking about like ‘log this person is so dedicated to you! How fun! 🤩’ I usually scroll past when it’s like an actually ab-sive situation or senario. I really enjoyed this thank you!! 😊

Sorry this is the same person who just submitted the last ask (the one with the imaginary friend being Lucy from Narnia) and of course after I submitted I thought of some extra to add 😭 sorry for the inconvenience, I just wanted to add that I’m an Aries and a huge swifty, have a good day!!

Hmmm, this is hard because I feel like ENFJs could really work so beautifully with a lot of people- at least, Redacted people. In the end, I decided to pair the Protagonist, the natural leader, with our favorite leader, David Shaw.

After all, ENFJs, Arieses, and Sixes can be summed up as confident, principled idealists, the kind of friend who takes charge and takes care of their own. You’d be a wonderfully extroverted contrast to David, the perfect mate of the pack Alpha. I also like David for you because Sixes tend to be motivated by a desire for stability and security in their lives, and… well, c’mon. He runs a security company. I need not say more.

In addition to the pun, there’s so many cute, little things that’d be charming about your life together. Criminal Minds marathons would be so fun with David; he strikes me as the type who can always guess the UNSUB, and he feels a strong kinship with Hotch. He wouldn’t really understand the Taylor Swift hype, but that wouldn’t stop him from pulling some security connections to get you killer seats when she tours close to Dahlia.

Song:

No matter where you are, I'll be there/ We can be the generation/ Who learns how to love/ Mistakes and empty promises/ Will never be enough/ So tear apart these giant hearts/ That beat inside us now/ Let's conquer the percentages/ And rise above the crowd/ And I won't let you fall (won't let you fall)

This song is one of the most down to earth yet romantic songs I know, and that’s why I like it for you and David. Fun fact, the duo who sings this are married, and this is the song they wrote and performed as their wedding vows. That’s the kind of heart-melting, ooey gooey lovey shit that I think suits David and his partner, because that man is a sap and not good at hiding it.

Runner-Ups:

Lasko, I like for you for two reasons. One, he could use a friend and partner like you, he needs it. Two, I can see him also being a Narnia kid growing up, so that’d be a really cute thing for y’all to bond over. Geordi, I also think could use a partner like you, but honestly he’s mostly a runner up because he’s my favorite Redacted boi to headcanon as a Swiftie.

note: it’s no inconvenience at all, lovey, you’re good 💚

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[protectingtulpas]

Hi Badeline! No pressure to reply fast, and I’m sorry I made this so long, but I wanted to catch you up. Luca’s host here. First off, I just wanted to say thank you so so much for what you said. It’s complicated, but I am determined to fight for Luca’s life because he deserves to live and we will always love each other more than that therapist could ever hurt us. I’m trying. I’m trying to think of Luca more as a parallel to me now, more than a completely separate entity that can be lost (two souls interchangeable in mind and body if that makes sense) as a way to fight the ocd that masks as him and expose it for what it is. Since Luca is an imaginary friend, I have to accept that he can change and flow very easily, but it’s still him at the core if I let it be. I’ve actually been able to talk to him again and it’s a relief. I’ve never been 100% sure about anything involving him and his personhood, I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t have to be. We call him imaginary friend, but he doesn’t have to be confined to any label. He’s just Luca. He can be anything he wants to be. For now he’s back as he was in the very beginning, before the things that turned him young happened, as a teenager with the most sweet, adventurous spirit. Well, what we’re really here to say is something really exciting. We finally got to make one of Luca’s biggest dreams come true, to go to the ocean. He got to experience so many new things and even see sharks, he was so so happy. I hope the memories last a long time. The strangest thing happened, I could feel his excitement (or my excitement for him? Idk) during the drive, and when the ocean first came into view, tears just sprang to my eyes, and I’m a local! I couldn’t tell if it was my emotion and excitement for him or if the tears weren’t even my own. I’ve never been good at telling if I’m just talking to myself or him. But the tears felt so emotional and strange. I’m happy I finally got to take him where he’s always wanted to go, even if it wasn’t perfect. I’m not sure how good I am at giving Luca what he needs, but damn I’m trying. Even if we’re never perfect, it’s okay.

Hey, I've been holding onto this for a long while but I just wanted to say thanks, genuinely. This is one of the sweetest things I've ever seen and stories like this are why I stay in the community. You're working so damn hard together and experiencing LIFE together and that's so fucking beautiful. Keep being yourselves, choose whatever you want forever, and you'll go so far!!! I hope you both have the best life

[tomjamesavery]

Chapter Update! Story summary: One summer day, Lily Evans meets a fiery red-haired girl at the pond, she would not know that from that point on her life was destined to change. Two girls, two best friends-, thrown into a life they had never expected. Through high and low, facing a growing evil in a world of Witchcraft, Beasts, Knights, and Castles. Chapter Two: A shocking Discovery On their search for Luna, Ginny and Lily discover something shocking, given their discovery they stand in front of a tough decision. Read the full Chapter on: AO3 FFN Snippet from the Second Chapter

“You know, Lily, earlier I was asking myself how we hadn’t really met before…” Ginny’s eyes seemed focused on something in the far distance, her tone slightly absentmindedly. “Luna seems to know us both, yet we never came in contact, not through her, or any other ways.” She glanced at Lily now smiling sweetly. “Life is weird I think.”

Lily could only agree with that, as she reciprocated Ginny’s smile “So weird! And beautiful, I would’ve never imagined finding myself in an adventure like that!” She dashed forward a few meters, picking up a long stick, an obvious spring in her step. “Lily and Ginny the dragon slayers.” She held the piece of wood up high, raising it towards the sun like a shining sword in her hand. Green eyes gleaming in youthful eagerness.

Ginny laughed as she swiftly moved towards a dead fir tree-, broke off a branch, -and with an elegant turn crossed weapons with Lily, who was taken aback by the precise movements from the other redhead.

“Wow, you know how to wield something like that.” Lily’s voice was reverent in awe.

Ginny simply jumped onto a tree stump, moving as one with the imaginary sword. “The Queen and slayer of Bullfrogs has spent many moons breaking into the weapon shed at home, training with her brother’s swords.” She waved the stick as if fencing a non-existent enemy.

Lily couldn’t believe what she was seeing, she had always dreamt of learning how to use a real sword. She used to sneak into their kitchen at night, using her parent's steak knife to ward off imaginary enemies, almost cutting herself a few times in the progress.

The way Ginny moved, Lily could tell, the girl must’ve had serious training, the stick was moving as if an extension of her hand, like they were one.

“Have you ever dueled someone with a sword?” Lily asked, still in awe over the other girls's fencing skill set.

Ginny leaped off the trunk, gracefully landing in front of Lily, who instinctively took a step backward.

“I can beat my three youngest brothers easily by now.” Ginny brushed the hair from her eyes before she simply chucked her stick back, over her head. “We only play with wooden swords, Bill carved them for us, Mummy and Daddy weren’t excited when each of us got one for Christmas last winter.” She smirked. “Best present I’ve ever gotten!”

[astramthetaprime]

Going to the Extremes

The turning, the turning, the turning of the year ... those moments when you hear the creaking of the wheel as it grinds, carrying you even as it plows you under.

My first ChattaCon was ChattaCon 11. I was 16 years old, and the ecstatic joy I felt in those first few moments when I walked in and saw a guy dressed as Nightcrawler from the X-Men, leaping across the Consuite ... that moment has lived within me ever since. I picked up my first sword at that ChattaCon. I met people who delighted in talking about comic books without shame. I saw D&D books for sale like so many magical tomes proudly displayed in the markets of a mystical town. This was home, this gypsy circus village of madmen and tavern wenches.

It's been home ever since. And no more so than when I met the three men who have been my family ever since. My soul family.

Ironically, the fourth man, the man I married who introduced me to the other three, that man I haven't seen in twenty years. But the other three who attended our wedding, those three stooges I have kept firm ties.

We're all old now. They're in their 60's now. I'm not far behind. I know I'll be there when they take the last journey. Someday I'll get The Call for each of them. And I will feel grief for them. Every last one. Every moment.

But this last Friday and Saturday, we staked a claim on a table in the Consuite and we talked and talked and talked. It was about equal time how to game Medicare and so many memories of our imaginary conquests in Dungeons & Dragons. I'd leave only to attend panels, come right back and resume my place among them. My oldest friends.

I was safe, I was supremely happy, surrounded by these dear souls, once more in the heart of our ephemeral caravan home. The turning of our year.

Then Sunday dawned, and the party was over.

I washed, dressed in black, and made the drive to the funeral home.

And there was no greater contrast.

I sat silent and alone in a room with my mother's ashes while my blood family fought a furtive war all around me, faction against faction, my stepfather fighting by his absence and flat refusal to have anything to do with any of them. I was left, alone, silent, speaking to no one, watching the strained conversations. And the hyperactive screaming to two little boys that forced me to get out my ear plugs. Kids who haven't apparently been taught appropriate behavior at a funeral.

No one bothered to talk to me, and I was frankly afraid to talk to any of them. No matter who I spoke to the "other side" would take note of it and use it against me. While my uncle urged me to just take my mom's ashes and bury them where he wanted, though I've told him repeatedly in the last few weeks that I don't have that legal right.

Everyone fighting, everyone trying to use me for their own ends. When they aren't ignoring me for being inconveniently moral.

No one seemed to remember we were there for a funeral.

I know who my real family are now. And it's not the people I share genetics with.

It's those three dear souls who opened their arms to me at ChattaCon. Three great bears of men -- each well over six feet tall! -- with expansive intellects and hilarious good humor and unmatched kindness. My dear ones. My best friends.

The ones who make my life worth living.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Last night I had a lovely little dream about Christmas that has left me haunted.

There really wasn’t much of a dream.

In a living room that was an amalgam of the ones I know best, everyone was gathered around a glowing Christmas tree. By everyone I mean everyone I have ever loved. The living. The dead. The never were…at least not outside daydreams or childhood games. All of the, gathered together on incredibly comfy sofas around the tree.

Not much happens. I tell Mom she should sit down and stop being so busy. We all make her flop with us, pointing out it’s Christmas after all. We laugh. She sighs and smiles. I worry what people will think of the gifts I made them, and Pop tells me they love them. Someone that’s a young kid, but becomes a Muppet, has gotten something with a tv like screen that’s also a swimming pool, and we all delight in watching them splash about when they aren’t playing a video game….

Ok, that bit is a little weird….

The smell of pine and roasting turkey fills the air. My favorite Christmas music, the kind that sounds ancient and entrancing, plays quietly in the background. Someone hands out chocolates.

And that’s all. We are just all cozy and content, cuddled together in a blanket of love. Simply happy.

I woke up crying.

This was the first time I have ever, EVER had a dream set on actual Christmas. Oh, I have had lots of dreams about Christmas, but they were always really about missing Christmas. My anxiety dreams. They were dreams of things like going to sleep three days before Christmas and waking up a week later, being trapped somewhere and getting out two days two late for Christmas, having a sort of amnesia where everyone remembers Christmas but you have have a four day blank spot..that sort of thing.

And yet here I was, dreaming of Christmas. An ordinary Christmas like the ones I actually had for decades…well, aside for the mix of company including the imaginary and the Muppet. Just us enjoying being together….

“Us” That’s the reason it got to me.

This year will be my fifth Christmas entirely alone. I still get the tree, cook the meal, listen to the music, wrap fake gifts for myself to open, and so forth but there is one thing I can’t do. I can’t do anything about being alone.

Memories and dreams are nice. I do realize just how lucky I am to have them. Too many people never get a chance to know what it is like to be loved, and I had decades of it. I was loved, knew I was loved, and never doubted. The rest of the world may have had no use for me, but I had parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even friends.

Gone.

One way or another all but Mom have gone, and even with Mom she is so far away. She’s a sleepy, weak voice on the phone, from where I can’t visit and even my calls are never private. I can’t see her face as I give her her gift, or even be sure she gets it**. I can’t hug her.

And no one will hug me.

And no one ever will.

So a nothing of a dream, happiness with out even a plot, could upset me more than most horrific of nightmares. Because, damn it, being alone enough years starts to wear you down.

**She got her Mother’s Day gift almost on the 4th of July because they misplaced it in their SUV. I never ask if she got a gift so as to not provoke them as the listen along, and Mom wouldn’t think to mention it.

[callunavulgari]

Year-In-Fic | 2022

This is... very late. I almost didn’t do it at all. But you know what, I like my traditions, even if it takes me two months to claw myself free of the pit of despair long enough to do it.

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?

In 2022 I wrote 18 fics, for a total of 62,476 words. About 30k less than I did in 2021, which is disappointing, but not surprising. Between mental health tripwires and planning a wedding (harder than it sounds, do not recommend, do yourself a favor and elope) last year was the pits.

Fic Roundup!

what for d'you yearn? | The Witcher | Yennefer/Jaskier/Geralt | 5,481 words | Yennefer fucks Jaskier the third week that she is at Kaer Morhen.

the spring will come with the floods | Harry Potter | Drarry | 1,677 words | On a dreary day in early June, Harry Potter gets stuck in Draco’s wards.

tear you apart | The Untamed | SXX | 6,656 words | “Awful lot of effort,” Xue Yang says. “To save someone you’ve never met before. Don’t you get something out of it?”

find hope in the hopeless | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 861 words |  Billy closes his eyes on Starcourt Mall, Max a hazy silhouette above him, haloed in light.

like holy days | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 2001 words | He looks up at Steve from under his lashes, tongue between his teeth, and cocks his head. “We good, King Steve?”

this is a life | The Untamed | SXX | 9500 words |  “Well,” Xiao Xingchen says brightly. “You’re welcome to join us for a little while. We’re heading to Oregon, so we can basically take you as far as you want as long as it’s on the way.”

my kingdom for your graces | The Untamed | SXX | 2,616 words |  In the kitchen, Xiao Xingchen is cutting Xue Yang a slice of olive oil cake, the top of her head just barely visible over the fruit bowl perched on the dividing counter between kitchen and living room.

don’t feed it, it will come back | Stranger Things | Eddie/Steve | 861 words | Steve Harrington spins Eddie Munson back to life on a Saturday.

when the autumn moon is bright | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 2207 words | “Hello Derek,” he gasps, eyes sparking with delight.

no wealth, no ruin | PJO | Nico, Gen | 770 words | Nico di Angelo takes his last breath in broad daylight, the sun gleaming at him through the trees overhead.

don’t look under the bed | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 3528 words | When Ryan Bergara was younger, he had an imaginary friend named Shane.

if the sun comes up | Stranger Things | Eddie/Steve | 1695 words |  “Oh baby, don’t do that,” Eddie says, transferring Steve’s wrists to one hand so that he can use the other to catch Steve by the throat and shake him like a rag doll until Steve’s dizzy and reeling, nausea thick on his tongue.

mirror, mirror, what’s behind you? | LoZ | Link/Dark Link | 1441 words | There is a mirror in the furthest corner of Hyrule Palace that is guarded day and night.

listen to your heart bleed | TMA | Martin/Jon | 1467 words | “Hello Jon,” Martin tells the floating figure that used to be his boyfriend, crossing the room to take a seat in the chair a few feet to the left of Jon’s dangling feet.

leave your life open (somebody hears you) | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve/Eddie | 6,444 words | The first time that Steve sees Billy after Starcourt, he thinks that he’s hallucinating.

who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead? | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve/Eddie | 4,831 words | local witch and his revenant boyfriend resurrect mutual crush.

the tide will take, the sea will rise | The Untamed | SongXueXiao | 7106 words | Xue Yang dies on a Tuesday. The following morning, he wakes up.

Rest Stop | LoZ: Majora’s Mask | Gen, Link & Romani, Link & Tatl | 3,334 words | “You have a magic ocarina that rewinds time. You can take a break.“

Best story I wrote this year:

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Weirdly enough, I think it was find hope in the hopeless, which was a very short atmospheric one-shot that I spun together in the hours leading up to the premiere of the new season of Stranger Things. I wrote it while Nick was playing through the ashtray maze level of Control, and was just stupidly charmed by Billy getting a softer death - something to kind of lull him to sleep. A death still, sure, but something tender. Wanted. I ended up making myself weep a little, because when it comes down to it I am still sad about the tragedy that is Billy Hargrove.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

It looks like my most popular fic was what for d’you yearn, coming in at 611 kudos, followed by when the autumn moon is bright, which is sitting at 355. The runner ups are ghost sex the fic, fish sex the fic, and a very short Drarry one-shot, because I was feeling them last Spring.

Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

I think probably listen to your heart bleed, which was the canon-divergent coda that I wrote for The Magnus Archives during dark month. Basically, Jon becomes the Eye and they continue on with a different sort of sad, quiet apocalypse. 

Most fun story to write:

Can I say the story with all the fish sex? Because tear you apart was a horny mess that was a total blast to write. I honestly didn’t expect it to get too much attention, because I was very up front with my tags about its particular brand of kink, but hey. Monster fuckers unite and all that.

Story that could have been better?

I really, really wish that I’d had more time to craft who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead? into something better. I wrote a ton of it in the aftermath of the season, but ended up getting stuck somewhere and didn’t really finish it until dark month, and then it was just a rush to the finish. I wish I’d taken the time to properly drag it out, and maybe even gotten around to the boning. But October was coming to an end, and if I didn’t post it then, I never would have, so I made due.

Story I wrote to fix things:

God, I think most of these are fix-it fics. Some of them are porny ones, some are sad introspective ones, and others are just plain old fashioned fix it. I think that  leave your life open (somebody hears you) was the closest I got to a true fix it fic, a fic where Steve sees (2) dead people and Eddie and Billy get some kind of catharsis in fucking the small town jock in the afterlife. I don’t know, it was fun to write and I was grieving Eddie.

Longest completed fic this year:

this is a life was nearly 10k. Written for the MXTX exchange, it was basically 10k of will they or won’t they with the added bonus of road trips and chaos gremlin Xue Yang. I enjoyed writing it!

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year:

Honestly? Probably Stranger Things. The Untamed bits were great, but I’m still so weak for Billy and Steve, and the added bonus of Eddie made it all the sweeter.

Favorite character you wrote this year:

Oh, definitely Yennefer. Don’t get me wrong, I love Xue Yang and Steve and Billy, but Yennefer was a JOY to write.

Most memorable comment(s) this year:

I mean they were all great, but my recipient’s comment on this is a life was this long rambling stream of consciousness as they were reading the fic and it was really so fantastic and made me so incredibly happy. I also got a couple of really gorgeous thoughtful comments on both old Teen Wolf and old PJO fics, which are always a treat.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t:

God, a ton. I don’t even know. I have a graveyard of abandoned thoughts at this point.

Oddest story:

Fish sex!

Hardest story to do:

I had some minor trouble with the tide will take, the sea will rise but over all, the fics didn’t fight me too much this year. I also had some issues with the ghosty Stranger Things fic later on in the year.

Easiest story to write?

Probably my kingdom for your graces, the super horny cis swap fic that I did just for an excuse for femme!Xue Yang to get absolutely railed in a dress. Though there were quite a few other ones that came super easy to me.

Most mining of your own history in one story:

I mean, not to be tmi, but I too have been railed over the side of a couch after having recently eaten cake, but somehow I don’t think that counts? I know in  listen to your heart bleed I had Martin reading Coraline to Jon, and that was around the time that I was reading it to Nick. That counts, right?

Themes, or absence thereof:

Vampires and monsterfucking, mostly.

Where did you publish/archive your stories?

Ao3, as per usual. I didn’t crosspost too much this year.

Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to:

I’m honestly pretty stuck when it comes to writing right now. I haven’t felt the drive and when I do it’s really fleeting and gone before I can properly square up. Most recently I have felt the urge to write a very brief ust filled one-shot of Jericho and Sam Lloyd from the Diviners, because there’s this moment in Lair of Dreams that makes me want it and I am the only person in existence who has even thought about it. I’ve also felt the urge to write more Aloy, but idk.

Sexiest moment (excerpt):

The fifth time that she fucks Jaskier, she does it in broad daylight. There’s buttery warm winter sunlight spilling in through the keep’s windows, and the corridor is deserted, everyone else out in the courtyard under the pretense of helping Ciri through her forms when really all they want to do is hassle Geralt about it, and—Well, Jaskier is there.

She lets him hitch her leg up around his hip and fuck her there in the hallway, right up against the stone wall next to the door to Geralt’s room. It’s hard and fast and hot, her hair coming undone from its braid as Jaskier works his hand into it, and she is right on the cusp, her mouth open against Jaskier’s shoulderblade when she catches a hint of movement down the corridor.

She turns her head, curious, still floating on a hazy cloud of pleasure, and meets Geralt's eyes over Jaskier’s shoulder.

She makes a noise unlike her—a low whine that she muffles into the side of Jaskier’s neck, and Jaskier hasn’t noticed yet. He’s close to coming, his thrusts growing erratic as he presses sweet murmurs into the curve of her throat, and Yennefer is— she’s always been selfish. She’s chased her own ambition, her own pleasure, for decades, pursued her own ideals at the cost of others. She isn’t the sort to regret it, not usually, but Geralt has always been a sore spot for her, a particular bruise that she enjoys prodding at whenever she thinks she's getting over him.

She keeps her eyes on Geralt as she urges Jaskier to fuck her harder, faster. Geralt’s face is slack, soft with something—surprise? Want? And if it is want, which of them is he busy wanting? Yennefer’s never come right out and asked Jaskier if he and Geralt ever fucked, but she’s clever enough to read between the lines. Jaskier is transparent in heartbreak, and if he and Geralt truly hadn’t fucked in the intervening years, then Yennefer is willing to bet that it wasn’t for a lack of desire.

When Jaskier comes, he makes a wounded sound into the curve of her throat, his entire body hitching into hers. She bites her lip, eyes growing heavy-lidded with pleasure as he reaches between them without missing a beat and thumbs between her legs until she follows him over, eyelids fluttering closed as she comes.

.

“Please,” Xue Yang gasps into the cushions. She never knows exactly what she’s asking for, but she asks anyway, because they somehow always do. Somewhere above her, Xiao Xingchen laughs, and then her hand is cupping Xue Yang’s chin, bringing it up and out of the cushions. The sweatpants are gone, leaving Xiao Xingchen bare from the waist down, and as Xue Yang watches, hungry, Xiao Xingchen’s legs part and she draws Xue Yang towards her.

Xue Yang likes bringing Xiao Xingchen off like this, with just her mouth, likes it better than using a toy or her fingers. Xiao Xingchen is hot against her, dripping for her, and Xue Yang loves this part, loves getting messy, so she loses herself in it, licking and sucking at Xiao Xingchen’s folds, her clit, her hole. All the while, Song Lan keeps fucking her through it, his thrusts never once slowing.

“You’re so good for us, a-Yang,” Xiao Xingchen tells her, fingers tightening in Xue Yang’s hair, and something in Xue Yang goes pliant, boneless and sated.

Song Lan fucks her through Xiao Xingchen’s first orgasm, through her second, through the third, until Xue Yang is red-faced and gasping, her chin slick, dizzy from a lack of oxygen.

“Please,” Xue Yang tells him through her teeth, after Xiao Xingchen’s finally pushed her gently away, leaving Xue Yang’s cheek pillowed on her thigh. Song Lan grunts, and, leaning over her, finally—finally—splays his hand out across her throat and squeezes hard, just the once.

Xue Yang’s entire world goes blank, white hot, stars exploding behind her eyelids as she comes hard, convulsing around him. She shudders, toes curling in the carpet, and lets out a throaty groan, going boneless all at once. She’s only half paying attention afterwards, floating in a haze of bliss. She’s aware of little things, Xiao Xingchen’s hand smoothing back her hair, the patter of an evening storm against the windows, and the distant realization that Song Lan is still fucking her, his hand clenched so tight around her hip that she knows there will be bruises tomorrow. Outside, the sun is going down. Xue Yang drifts for a while and wonders what kind of night this will be—if Song Lan will finish, smooth down her skirt, and send her on her way, or if it will be one of those nights, when they tug her up to bed and have her another six ways between them before plying her with pizza, still fucked out and sprawled across the sheets. She likes those nights best, because it soothes the cracked open thing in her chest that’s started making noises whenever she has to leave them afterwards.

Xue Yang surfaces all at once when Song Lan gets a fist in the back of her skirt and yanks it up even higher, until the fabric is bunched up between her shoulder blades. She makes a thin reedy sound when he shifts, going impossibly deeper as he stretches out along her back and closes his teeth around the column of her throat. He licks it afterwards, as if in apology, and then asks in a rough voice, “Where do you want it?”

The first time that he’d asked her that, she’d laughed. She’d been fresh off a shift and still stank of sweat and spoiled cream and espresso, and it was just so abruptly ludicrous, like she’d walked straight onto the set of a low budget porno. Now though, it sets off fireworks inside of her, and she gasps, clenching her eyes shut, and in a raw voice, whispers, “Inside. Inside, please.”

Crackiest moment (excerpt):

Steve keeps seeing them. Most of the time, they can’t really stop to chat without making Steve seem like a crazy person. He sees them the same way that he saw Billy those first few months—in passing.

He sees them passing the video store at least once a week, jackets bunched up around their shoulders as if they actually need them to ward off the coming chill of autumn. Steve doesn’t know where they’re going, but Eddie never fails to stop and make faces through the window—devil horns, tongue out and wiggling, crossed eyes. Once, he actually moons Steve, pale butt cheeks pressed to the spotless glass, and Steve promptly  inhales his gum and breaks into a coughing fit while old Mrs Conley watches on, unblinking and unamused.

He spends the next ten minutes apologizing profusely as she wipes spittle from her glasses, plying her with free malt balls so she won’t rat on him to Keith, and by the time he’s done, Eddie and Billy are long gone.

.

“Oh hey,” Eddie says, blinking. “Did you see what Billy taught me?”

He gestures, indicating the new outfit and Steve laughs, his eyes coming back again to that wide sliver of belly, the trail of dark hair leading down from his belly button. He blinks, eyes darting back up to Eddie’s.

“I did,” he says. “It’s some outfit. That usually what you wear to the pool?”

Eddie snorts. “The pool was never exactly my scene, if you know what I mean. Pretty sure all those soccer moms would see me lit up like the beacons of Gondor and run the other way screaming.”

Next to him, Billy snorts. “Trust me, Munson. There were worse things at the local watering hole than your pasty ass.”

“Yeah, uh huh,” Eddie says agreeably, nodding along. “Sure there were.”

Billy rolls his eyes, giving Eddie a look, eyes narrowed. “Quit fishing for compliments. Just count your fucking blessings that you’re not Keith.”

Eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth, making a face. “Did he wear a lot of sunscreen? I’ll bet he wore a lot of sunscreen.”

“Hey,” Steve protests. “There is nothing wrong with sunscreen. It's good for you. I’ll bet that you’d burn like a peach without it.”

“Yeah, but Keith wouldn’t rub it in, would he? Guarantee you he was up there looking like Casper.” He frowns, looking suddenly concerned. “Actually, hey. Billy. Do ghosts burn?”

Billy groans, pulling his sunglasses back up onto his nose. “I really couldn’t tell you. I never have, but I didn’t burn when I was alive, so not sure that tells you much.”

“Hm,” Eddie murmurs, frowning like he’s trying to work out a puzzle. “Guess that’ll be an experiment for another time. Ghost physics are bullshit.”

The sun is starting to droop in the sky, the horizon turning red and gold, slivers of violet streaking through it. Steve watches the sun set with sleepy eyes, listening with half an ear as Eddie and Billy bicker in the background. The distant scream of cicadas mixes with the hum of the AC unit, and already, there are fireflies emerging from their slumber, lighting up the backyard around them.

Steve is so fucking tired. He just wants to sleep.

.

In the end, Billy is the one who talks him into it. He’s sitting on a pool lounger, his feet dangling over one of those god awful cracks that run all through town like he’s determined to soak in some hellfire, when he turns to Steve, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and says, “I think you should resurrect Munson.”

Steve blinks back at him. “What?”

Billy shrugs, busying himself with plucking his lemonade off the cement. The glass is sweating. He spends a long time slurping loudly through the straw, looking up at Steve through his eyelashes, before he pulls away with a smack of his lips and elaborates.

“Resurrection is your specialty, baby,” he says, nudging the glasses down his nose so he can hold Steve’s gaze over them, eyes burning blue. “I think you should add another dead girl to your collection.”

And then he smiles winningly, his teeth white and shiny, and winks.

Favorite dialogue (excerpt):

“You know that he wants you, right?” Xue Yang asks, his voice hot in Song Lan’s ear. He gives Song Lan another slow stroke, kissing the space behind his ear when Song Lan groans. “He does. He wants you so badly. This whole time, I thought that the only reason you weren’t fucking was because you had company, but to find out that you’ve never even—?”

He breaks off with a groan, stroking Song Lan harder, faster.

“Let’s see if he joins us,” Xue Yang hisses, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to the column of Song Lan’s throat. “I think he will.”

“He won’t—” Song Lan starts to say, reeling, dizzy with it, and Xue Yang laughs again, biting this time.

“He will,” Xue Yang breathes. “Won’t you, Xingchen?”

Song Lan inhales sharply when the bed dips, and he gives a hard shudder, bucking into Xue Yang’s grip, unable to help himself. From behind him, he hears Xiao Xingchen make a small noise, something soft and greedy all at once, and suddenly, Song Lan needs to see—

He turns, shoving Xue Yang’s hand away long enough to roll onto his other side.

There’s a smug smirk on Xue Yang’s face, his hair mussed from sleep, pillow creases across one side of his face. He’s visibly hard in his boxers, sheets pushed down to his thighs. And behind him, Xiao Xingchen is perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes bright, interested. He’s damp from the shower, hair curling in damp tendrils over his clavicles, and his pink lips are parted—on a word? A name?

Xue Yang laughs again, rolling onto his back to peer up at Xiao Xingchen, amusement on his face as he raises the hand that was just on Song Lan’s dick towards Xiao Xingchen.

“Want a taste?” Xue Yang asks with a wicked smile, and Song Lan flushes when he realizes that there’s a streak of pre-come on Xue Yang’s hand, smeared along the sharp curve of his wrist, the bend of his thumb.

Xiao Xingchen’s eyes are boring into him, dark and intense, and Song Lan swallows as Xiao Xingchen leans forward and wordlessly seals his mouth around Xue Yang’s wrist.

Song Lan watches, enraptured, as Xiao Xingchen sucks it from Xue Yang’s skin, moving on to suck Xue Yang’s thumb into his mouth when it’s gone from his wrist.

When he pulls back, his lips are red, wet. He turns his head, giving Xue Yang an indulgent smile, and murmurs, “Good boy.”

Xue Yang whimpers, his whole body shivering. As Song Lan watches, he reaches down and palms himself hard, lower lip tucked between his teeth.

“Did you just almost—” Song Lan starts to ask, eyes wide, cutting himself off with a click of his throat when Xue Yang opens his eyes and sends him a poisonous glare.

“Shut up, Zichen,” he hisses, flushing. “We all have hair-triggers.”

.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Eddie murmurs gently, going down to a crouch. Like this, their noses are almost level. Steve can see Billy lurking behind Eddie, looking… something. Confused? Angry? Steve blinks, slow-like, and tips his head until Eddie’s back in his line of vision. Eddie smiles at him. “We lost you there for a bit. You ready for bed?”

Steve smacks his lips, still muzzy, and nods.

Eddie’s grin widens, eyes going inexplicably soft. He turns and calls over his shoulder, “Hey, Hargrove. Help me get his royal highness up to bed, yeah?”

Billy pulls a face, but shockingly does as he’s told with only minor complaint, padding over and getting an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

It’s only as they’re pouring him into bed that Steve thinks to wonder why they can touch him. Eddie is stooped, trying to wrangle the sheets out from under Steve, and Billy is lingering back again now that Steve’s out of his hands, the glow from the hallway haloing him in buttery orange light.

Steve licks his lips, catching Eddie’s wrist as he finally works the sheet out from under him.

Eddie goes still, eyes darting to Steve. They’re wide. Dark. Wet. Pretty eyes. Steve kind of wishes that he’d realized that when Eddie was still alive.

“Hey,” Steve asks, frowning. “Why can you touch me?”

Eddie blinks, his eyes going helplessly to Billy over his shoulder. Billy gives him a jerky little shrug. “I can’t be your afterlife handbook here, Munson. I’ve got no clue.”

Eddie looks back at Steve, his eyes still soft, but there’s something else there now, shifting in their depths. Something thoughtful. Even curious.

“Guess you’re just our little grounding rod, Stevie-boy,” Eddie laughs, ruffling Steve’s hair. When Steve whines at him, he laughs harder.

“Get some sleep, Harrington,” Billy says gruffly from behind him, eyes a gleam of blue in the dark. “Don’t work yourself to death.”

.

Billy grins at him. “Hit me.”

Steve blinks again, harder this time, like that’ll change what the fuck Billy had said. He shakes his head a little, frowning, and says, again, “Wait, what?”

“Okay, fine,” Billy sighs, winding up. “I’ll go first.”

Billy’s always thrown a beautiful punch. He spent his formative years perfecting it after some city-spun leech ripped his throat out in a back alley three blocks from his house. The leech hadn’t expected him to wake up afterwards, and was long gone by the time he had. Billy had coped. He’d learned to protect himself. Learned to be the bigger predator.

So, the punch that he throws at Steve lands perfectly, just under the jaw. Billy watches, damn near giddy, as Steve’s head snaps back, his skull striking the bark behind him hard enough that it cracks, denting inwards in a perfect impression of Steve’s pretty little head.

The punch probably would have taken a normal human’s head clean off, but Steve recovers quickly, jerking his head free of the bark and turning a furious snarl on Billy, his teeth sharp and ready.

“What the hell was that?” he yells, hands clenched into fists at his side.

Billy laughs in his face.

“That was fun,” he says, and hits him again.

This time, Steve gets smart, jerking his head away just in time so that his cheek only takes part of the blow, momentum carrying Billy’s fist forward into the tree instead.

“Are you crazy?” he yells, dodging out of the way when Billy lunges for him again.

“Maybe,” Billy tells him with a sharp cackle, his grin fierce, blood hot. “Want to find out? Come on, Steve. Hit me!”

Steve stops dodging and his face twists, determination and frustration all converging, and he puts his fist up and—

It’s a terrible fucking punch.

Billy snorts, thumbing the blood from his lip.

“That all you got?” he asks, bloody teeth bared, and Steve snarls—

It’s a good fight. Billy’s always liked good fights, ones that he can control, ones that are in his power. He hasn’t been able to cut loose like this since he was turned—a fight like this with a human would be too risky, too easy to kill them on accident. But with Steve? Steve can take his punches. And judging by the manic little grin on Steve’s face, like something deeply primal being sated for the first time in his entire pathetic life, Steve wants to take his punches.

Billy doesn’t know how long they’re at it, but he knows when it ends, his breath going out of him all at once as Steve lets out a furious roar, charging him and getting his arms wrapped around Billy’s waist, bearing him down to the forest floor.

Billy stares up at Steve, suspended above him. He’s heaving for breath that he doesn’t need, sweat on his brow, face flushed red enough that Billy wonders how well he must be eating, with enough blood leftover to flood his cheeks like that—fuck—Billy wants to bite them.

There’s pine needles in his hair, the prickle of them biting through his jacket, and Steve’s body is pressed in tight against his, between his splayed thighs. They’re both hard—Billy can see the moment that Steve realizes that, his cheeks going even redder, his eyes abruptly darkening as he licks his bitten-red lips.

“Yeah, okay,” Billy tells him, arching up against him and gasping open-mouthed when Steve gives a hitching little thrust back. “We can do it this way too.”

“Fuck,” Steve says.

Billy laughs, getting a hold of the back of Steve’s neck and bringing him down. He bites at his mouth, relishing in the little hitch of Steve’s breath, and tells him, voice cocky, “That is the idea.”

Favorite lines (excerpt):

“Billy?” he asks, sounding confused, but not shocked. “What are you doing?”

Oh, Billy thinks, as Steve’s hand closes around his wrist, his eyes concerned. I’m still dying.

“Billy?” he asks again, stepping out of the shower towards Billy, bare-assed and still dripping, hair still thick with lather. “What’s wrong?”

Billy swallows.

Steve Harrington, here, in California.

Steve Harrington, here, in this particular motel. Billy’s shitty little safe haven. He’d split a hastily rolled joint with a hooker in this exact room the morning after he first fucked a boy. She had carefully concealed bruises all up and down her arms and one under her chin to match, but she’d been nice. She hadn’t judged him for crying a little when he’d woken up alone.

And Steve is here, with Billy.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He has a hazy image of Max above him, crying. Blood in his throat, bubbling up and out.

It had hurt, when they tore chunks out of him.

He sniffs.

“Nothing, baby,” he says with a tremulous smile.

When Steve still looks concerned, Billy rolls his eyes, peeling out of his clothes and maneuvering Steve carefully back under the spray. He steps in after him, pretending not to notice the way that the water pooling on the tiles under him runs red.

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning in to seal his mouth over Steve’s pulse point. He closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around Steve’s narrow waist. In response, Steve makes a quiet noise of appreciation, arching into Billy’s touch.

This is, Billy figures, a small comfort.

One last gift before the end.

He doesn’t know if he should say thank you or scream obscenities until the end comes.

Steve makes his mind up for him when he lets out a soft noise, something quiet and almost wounded. What Billy wouldn’t have given to take him here himself. He’d probably be a judgy little bitch about it, making faces at the hookers and the bullet holes, but maybe he’d understand too.

To see Steve in Billy’s home, sun and sand and everything else, it’s enough.

.

Draco finds Potter at the widest point of the river, huddled in the hollow of an old oak tree. He’s up to his knees in water, visibly shivering from ward fever, and looks like, at best, death warmed over. As he gets nearer, Draco can begin to make out other key details. Potter’s glasses are broken, for one, the right lens cracked right down the middle, a spiderweb of smaller cracks branching off in all directions. He’s paler than parchment paper, his skin grey-tinged and clammy, and there’s blood leaking from several orifices.

At least he doesn’t seem to be splinched, Draco thinks, his chest giving a twinge as he settles down next to him.

Potter looks up at him, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He looks like he’s barely standing.

“I would have thought that I would have read about it in the Prophet if the Chosen One had gone missing,” Draco remarks mildly, carefully setting a bracing hand on Potter’s shoulder. Even through his robes, Draco can tell that he’s burning up. “Guess I must have thought wrong.”

Potter shivers again, tilting his whole body into Draco’s touch. Alarmed, Draco makes a grab for the other shoulder.

Potter attempts a smile, his teeth red with blood. It’s not a very good smile. More of a grimace, really, made all the more horrifying by the blood. Then he opens his mouth and says, his voice slurred, “Hi, Draco.”

“Oh,” Draco says, catching Potter as his knees go out from under him. “Fuck.”

Potter blinks at him, his mouth a smear of red, and says. “Sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“So you came here?” Draco hisses out waspishly, bundling Potter onto his broom. The broom, unsurprisingly, is not proving very cooperative considering the last time Potter was on it, he’d nearly flown it into a tree. Draco swings a leg over the broom behind him and kicks off the ground, trailing icy droplets behind him. “Why?”

Potter shrugs, his teeth chattering, and nestles closer. “Felt safe.”

Draco swallows hard around the knot suddenly in his throat, and for a moment - just a moment - lets himself close his eyes. He breathes in and out slowly for a while, aware of the wind on his face, the damp in his shoes, the weight of the body in his arms.

Safe, Draco thinks. Now that’s a laugh.

“Well,” Draco says in a voice much too wobbly to be sneering, “That was stupid of you.”

“Mm,” Potter murmurs, already half gone. “Maybe.”

The thing about Potter, Draco thinks later, once Potter is safely deposited into Draco’s bed and has had several potions forcefully poured down his throat, is that he’s too good.

Too trusting.

He’s a right twat about some things, sure. He’s got a horrible taste in Quidditch teams, and beer and, in Draco’s opinion, women. He’s got a surprising mean streak under that savior complex, and is actually funny in a dry, unintentional sort of way. The first time that he’d cracked a joke that made Draco laugh, he’d been up all night overthinking it for a week straight, because - was Potter always funny? Or was his humor like an infection? Did it creep up on you slowly? Or was it just there all along?

Draco didn’t know. He didn’t know a lot about Potter, as it turned out, until… he did.

It started at New Year’s. There was a gala. People, reporters, fireworks.

There was also, unfortunately, firewhiskey.

He remembers only snapshots of the night. Finding Potter lurking in the shadows of the fourth floor was one of them. Licking the sweat from his neck later that evening was another. They’d woken up in what Draco later came to realize was Potter’s flat, their legs tangled together in the sheets.

Never again, they’d vowed, green with nausea as they took turns chucking up acid in the loo.

What a cliché, Draco had thought, safely ensconced in the manor later that day. Best now that it was out of his system.

And then… it happened again.

And again.

And somehow, it just kept right on happening, growing like that river. A trickle to a stream, a stream to a brook, a brook to… whatever was spilling over the banks now.

Fic goals:

Write something - anything - at least once a month. The shortest one-shot or the longest novel. January doesn’t count.

[the-nova-council]

One way I know I'm not a singlet is I so acutely know the feeling of being front stuck (I'm not rn I'm just Reflecting) and I feel like I would not be alive if I was like that forever. If it was only ever me. If I could never, ever take a break. I mean, God knows I spiral bad when I'm at front for more than a day or two and, from my family's perspective, I'm "not the same person." "There's something wrong." Yeah, what's wrong is even though I'm the host, I can't sustain this life alone. I'm not "me" without the influence of others. And I also know it's not just 'moods' because it just feels so distinct. Cora is co-front with me right now so we feel small and cute and feminine and so unlike myself, and that's a good thing. That's some of the variety and energy I used to attribute solely to ADHD. But ADHD isn't a little girl joining me in my head asking to make paper airplanes and beaded earrings and hair clips. ADHD isn't holding my hand and looking up at me reassuringly in my mind. That's Cora.

And sure, maybe she's just my inner child, but I have many inner children. And inner adults. And isn't that what a system is? My inner lonely little girl trying desperately to make everyone around her less lonely. My inner scared little kid hiding from anyone and everyone. My inner neglected toddler crying out for his needs to at long last be met. My inner teens, each hurting in their own unique ways. My inner adults, my 'imaginary friends', who came to us gaggle of neglected children as we needed them. A guardian angel to protect and guide us. An alien spared by war to treat our wounds and take us far away. A numbing fog to embrace us, ease our pain and keep us moving. The adult version of me, who knows what he has to do and is willing to do it, no matter the cost.

My family did their best and wasn't enough, and I don't fault them for that. There's a family in my head too, one who knows me better and loves me in a way no one outside of my skull ever could. And I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful we all have each other to help each other through our pains and traumas. I love my system, and I can't imagine how lonely and broken I would feel without them.

-Felix 🐈‍⬛

[mnovenia]

AUGUST 2024 - SUMMER TIME, they said…

What a journey.. I’ve been neglecting on writing these days.. but my inspiration Ko Ruby inspires me to do it again.. also all knots inside my head need to be processed~

Where shalll I start hmm.. maybe from the months I fear the most (JUNE) because it has caused a deep cut of sadness that I haven’t experienced these past years. Preparing the hardest goodbye, trying to accept and let things go and surrender my plan to God, there are thousands of lessons I gain that I believe will be useful for the future..

Come to think of how I prepared Andrew’s farewell, from showing up in his marathon, juggling with Solideo, work, teaching, handling my emotions apparently not easy. I have to be excited for him, sad and feel his burden of leaving things he’s been get used to these past months, think about how’d I feel when he leaves, but I have to pretend all those and stand tall like it’s easy. PHEW, God knows how much I endured, why I sacrificed that much, and the only reason is the deep love I have for another human being. Some might think there’s nothing wrong with it, but if I think again? I was being too much at some point too. I expected he will appreciate and open his eyes, but he is also just a human being, insensitive, has different way of accepting it, cannot communicate how he actually appreciate all that, and misunderstandings that cause heartbreak and makes me feel unappreciated. That’s sad of course, and I learn that I shall not do it again in the future, especially without any commitment in the beginning, because it’s the pitfall of it all..

I learn about how far I can grow love to someone but I also learn that I should put boundaries not for another reason but for the sake of protecting me, my future and the God-sent Mr Right that will come later..

Anyway, ngapain aja ya.. selain marathon, siapin farewel2 dia, bikin scrapbook, arrange last trip bahkan ke kintamani, bantuin dia pindahan, beli oleh2, buat video, beli buffet di Mulia, siap2 ngomong last time, arrange group farewell sama solideo, tuker uang yg yen, fotoshoot dsbnya.. TIME, ENERGY, MONEY, A LOT EMOTION.. Was it all worth it? I hope so. Even though no words from him that he appreciate all that, was it hurt? Of course.. Andrew has caused one of the deepest heartbreaks I had since my Dad passed away.. however I know I can’t blame anyone on this but myself, I caused 70% of it because of my own expectation, my wishful hope that he will realize and appreciate later.. but Marshella, without you saying a word of clarity, who will understand what’s in your heart and head? So who is it to blame? There noone else but me…

After he’s gone, my expectation also didn’t stop there.. i’m waiting for his phonecall, texts, many church projects that still involve him, just for the sake that this imaginary relationship can continue.. we both might enjoy the connection and fun we have when talking to each other, but without clarity and commitment, it’s Marshella who is suffering.. another question, where is God in the midst of it all? Good question..

1. Have you been involving God since the beginning? Are you listening carefully or you live out your own plan & imagination?

2. Have you been listening to all your friends who screamed: STOP IT MARSHELLA, ASK HIM FOR CLARITY, PUT BOUNDARIES? I guess I was just enjoying the whatever undefined relationship we had in the past year. It was fun for a short time, but YOU ARE SUFFERING MARSHELLA, no matter how good the guy is, you know you’re wrong too for not talking it out with him.. so next time, SPEAK UP could you please?

3. Was all the heartbreak, silenced, uncontinued friendship & common ministy worth the sacrifice?

4. What should I do next?

It’s been a month since I went to Korea. Everyday I tried hard to wake up and keep my head up straight without feeling the pain of rejection and imagining how Gwanghui is suffering on the other side of the world. It hurts so much, it feels like a bad breakup, a waste of time, a loss of best friend whom I can talk to and cheer my day up, keep me going on my ministry, practicing my Korean, etc..

God, if I can be honest and not to push my feelings, if I can express how much I still have deep love that I want to share with Gwuang Hui, I’d love to hope that there is still hope for it.. But this time, the feeling is mixed with everything.. now my mind can already think clearly, that I don’t want to repeat the dark time I had with him.. the fight, argument, cold treatments, misunderstandings, dark cold days at tenten, words from him, un appreciation that made me suffer to the core.. it wasn’t even a good time that we shared, even though God used it that we clearly expand our tents in Bali church..

I think my eyes and heart are so blinded that I’m hopeless and limiting what God can do, I can’t find a glimpse of hope that I can meet someone else who God really prepares for me, who will treat me better, who deserve my deep love, who loves God too at the same time and willing to join God’s ministry because of His calling, and see me the way God sees me. But the enemy seems blocking that view and stop me to stuck and feel helpless, seeing myself as too old to hope again, too much lacking that men won’t be interested and will look for younger girls, etc. I’m also afraid to find out if GH is with other girl, esp if it’s when I’m still alone. These days I know that GH is not doing alright, he was lost without clear direction, nothing satisfy him, and the worst part is: he’s not only stop ministering to solideo (sending prayer/words) but also not going to Yewon church in Seoul for 3 consecutive weeks, isn’t that crazy? He wasn’t even joining any youth activities that he used to love the most, work wise also not finding open door, and i feel so much pressured/guilt that I caused/contributed the pain that he is having now..

Those are Satan’s intimidation that I should throw away and not believe..

Even he clarified himself to me that it’s not because of me and I should know that God is strong enough to take care of him without my help/involvement, I should always be involved in his life (when he clearly doesn’t want to), I then wonder is it really love or just the enemy who wants to distract me from focusing on the Love of God..

These days I’ve been reflecting again, what God is trying to teach me through this rejection, I heard the it directs to redirection, makes me have courage to start from 0 again, believing what God still has in store, purify me that I will live for God even without worldly reward that I always want, that I will not depend my on the gift of this world, learn to be mature to admit that I may lose because of rejection and I have to admit and accept that with big heart, that not everything will fit to my ‘beautiful’ scenario, I should learn to value myself the way God do even when other people don’t see it, I have to learn to cherish every moment that God provides because it may not last forever, I have to believe, relieve, release things that I want to control/prevent not happen to a bigger hands the only one that capable of taking care of it and take out the ‘burden’ I feel I have to carry on my shoulders because noone’s happiness is depend on me, I learn that no matter how strong one’s faith may look like it will fail at some point and not last as I thought, I learn that through loneliness God will send those He think should be with me on the time being, God taught me to follow His way because He doesn’t me to get hurt even further and me to see His miracle on the way that far better than my definition of ‘LOVE’.. So what should I do next:

1. Focus on following God’s words, doa Kristus every now and then, take time to pray and be in the words, show up everytime I have chance because that’s the time when God is speaking

2. Focus on the people God put around me this time. SOLIDEO, help Bella, value the love from Ci Maurin, Eunjung Onni, Marlene Jie, Nongky, Eunice, Michelle, Shannen, Lina, all the girlfriends God put in my life to focus on Him and feel His love through.. I’ve been neglecting girls time due to thinking on Andrew and look forward to things that is uncertain.. cherish the love I have

3. Discipleship and penginjilan to my brother, colleagues, reachout to other Christians Silvi, Esther, those who stay in Bali, Devi, strengthen the new believers while helping the church to grow and be transformed by the love of God.

4. Pilates, eat & live healthy, explore more hobbies, don’t be stingy to myself, buy what I want, help those in need without earthly calculation

[martinsmith01]

9 Creative Cricut Ideas for Christmas Gifts [2023]

Whenever Christmas arrives, I start making Cricut Christmas crafts and gifts a month in advance. I can’t stop myself from daydreaming about Christmas celebrations with my loved ones. This is the time when I begin brainstorming Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts.

Being a Cricut expert, I am often asked to create many different types of gifts on special occasions like Christmas. Last year, my own husband asked me for a custom T-shirt. In contrast, my children expected their gifts from their imaginary Santa.

Well, Santa couldn’t come to deliver gifts, so I took it upon myself to give them their favorite gifts. In short, I have made many Christmas projects so far, and I would like to share them with you so that you can get some ideas for making your own gifts. These gifts are simple to create using Cricut machines. Let’s take a look at Cricut gift ideas for Christmas.

1.  Custom T-Shirt

Have a look at this black T-shirt with the phrase: I’M SO GOOD Santa CAME TWICE. This was the T-shirt I personalized for my husband. He was happy wearing this because he loves black color shirts and the phrase I added was also interesting. However, I made this shirt with Cricut Maker 3. For materials, I used Cricut iron-on vinyl. You can also try to make this T-shirt for your children and for someone you love.

2.  Water Bottle   

I don’t know when my obsession with these reusable water bottles will be over. Honestly, I love using these steel-reusable bottles. Whenever I go outside, I keep one with myself. Since I understand the importance of having a water bottle, I love to personalize it for someone I love. Hence, you must consider personalized bottles as the best Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts.

3.  Paper Flowers

Paper flowers are my all-time favorite, and I love to make them every year. Most paper flowers I used to send as a gift. Plus, I made at least seven different colors of paper flowers. I used them to decorate my home and also gifted some to my friends.

These paper flowers were super easy to make using my Cricut Maker 3. Despite the Cricut Maker, you can also use other cutting machines such as the Cricut Explore series, and Joy.

4.  Pillows

Well, there is one more thing I made last year, i.e., a pillow cover with simple phrases. This was not meant for a gift, but I used it as a home decor. This idea came to me after extensive research of Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts. Somehow, I found and made this possible. I always prefer simple and elegant home decor. Therefore, I kept it a little simple but colorful. Last but not least, I used heat transfer vinyl materials to add some creativity.

5.  Xmas Tree Ornaments

If someone in your family is celebrating their first Christmas, including a newborn baby, then such ornaments are one of the best Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts. However, I crafted these two ornaments for my baby cousin in 2019. Since I made this in 2019, I added the year in the ornament. Further, you can also add the baby’s name if you want because personalization is something that will make it look unique to all.

6.  Makeup Bag

In 2021, I made this personalized bag for makeup. I gifted this to my friend, who is a beautician. I knew she needed this always. So, I made something useful for her. Being a woman, I know how important it is to look confident in public. Hence, we always carry a bag with basic makeup stuff. Therefore, I made this beautiful makeup with eye-catching phrases. She was literally amazed to see the creativity I added to this bag. So, make this makeup bag and personalize it as per your choice.

7.  DIY Wooden Spoons

Making gifts like wooden spoons using the cutting machine is super easy. You can also add the shiny adhesive vinyl along with the black & white checked ribbons. The purpose of making this gift was my friend. She wanted to gift this to her cousin. I was happily ready to make this because it was cheap and easy to make.

In addition to the supplies, I needed a Cricut machine, painter’s tape, expressions vinyl flame, a Design Space cut file, white chalky finish paint, a wide flat brush and glitter vinyl, and Transfer tape.

8.  Monogram Gift Tags

I made this monogram of gift tags for all members of my family. I remember how I used my Cricut and created this monogram of gift tags. Making this was really exciting, and the final result was lovely. In contrast, these are reusable tags, so we don’t need to throw them away after one-time usage.

9.  Personalized Santa Bags

Try this gift idea, and gift it to anyone, along with gifts. This Santa bag is the best gift for a family. However, you can fill this bag full of gifts for all members of the family. The main supplies I used in this project were a Cricut Maker, Cricut EasyPress 2, 12″ x 10″, Multiple Colors of Cricut Iron-on, Canvas Wine Bags, Cricut 12″ x 24″ Cutting Mat, Cricut Weeding Tools, and Oversized Canvas Bags. What are you waiting for? Just give it a try!

Final Words

Through this blog, I have added the top 9 Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts, such as Christmas T-shirts, water bottles, paper flowers, DIY pillows, baby’s first ornaments, and custom makeup bags. All these gift ideas I have shared in this blog were made last year or before that. Besides, I have also added the shirt ideas I made for my husband. However, being a craft enthusiast, I know how important it is to give something to someone so that they can feel special.

Source URL: Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts.

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