#lovebrush cael

[manytoonepoet13]

They say falling in love is an unconscious occurrence, as matters of the heart usually are. Yet I refuse to believe these emotions were simply unconscious, as though done on a whim one day just because — no. I fell in love with you because my soul saw something in you before my eyes could even register the shape of your name, and my mind decided that it was something worth knowing better before my heart could even register what I was feeling.

And my entire being continued to choose your arms as my home, my heaven on earth.

All of those were conscious decisions done out of my own will because I saw the reason why I should pursue you, why I should love you.

And while yes, love is wild and untamed... choosing who your forever love will be is a controlled and conscious decision

Perhaps that is why people may date numerous people in their lifetime, yet only ever yearn for and stay with "the one", also known as your spouse. You love them, yes, but you didn't choose them. Now, one wouldn't really consider that as love, would they?

(Credits to the rightful owner of this picture.)

A sign to love with the mind, for emotions truly came from there, after all.

~Many To One Poet~

[dreamofjoys]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

— Act like an Angel, Dress like crazy

Participating fandoms: Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail (HSR), Twisted Wonderland (Twst), Ikemen Prince (IKEPRI), Ikemen Villain (IKEVIL), Lovebrush Chronicle (LBC), Wuthering Waves (WuWa), Love and Deepspace (LADs)

Please read the whole post before proceeding!

RULES

NO MINORS allowed, 18+ only ; I have said this many times and I will say it again. I do not want minors in this blog reading my fics / interacting with me. I am uncomfortable with it. I will be blocking blank blogs or blogs with no age indicator in their bio.

READ WITH CAUTION. Some kinks/content may not be for you. Content warning will be posted on every fic. Make sure to read them carefully (lmk if i miss out anything!)

DO NOT REPORT my fics! This happened in 2022 & majority of my fics got hidden away, I had a hard time tracking them back as people were requesting for it. If you don't like what I write or hate seeing my content, simply block me and move on. I will also be deleting and blocking hate comments.

THIS YEAR'S KINKTOBER SPECIAL / NOTES:

♡ Event will be divided into 4 series

- Short fic series (short headcannons of 2 characters per day) - Full fic series (more words + features 1 character per day) - Threesome series (you read that right, threesome. enjoy 2 men fucking/fighting over you. or maybe they will cooperate together to make you feel good) - Gangbang / Dragon series (heavily demanded lmao if you have read my fic 'The Dragon's Beloved' then yeah same lineup same characters // expect to be f by multiple dragons // this is for my followers who have been waiting for a long time)

♡ All fics are strictly character/characterS x afab/fem reader

♡ Expect content such as Noncon, Dubcon, kidnapping and etc. They apply to certain fics only

♡ Fics will be posted at 6pm sharp (GMT +8) basically 1hr slower than jp/kr timing - queued posting

♡ As I am typing this, I have yet to finish writting all fics. There may be delays (I hope not because I really want to finish this) Please forgive me if you don't see the full list of fics.

♡ I will not be doing taglist. As mentioned previously, the fics will be queued for posting. I may not be available at that timing to do tagging

♡ To navigate this year's kinktober fics, you can refer to this post for the full masterlist OR search #dreamofjoyskinktober2024 on my blog (in the event that the links on this post does not work)

KINKTOBER SCHEDULE —

SHORT FIC SERIES (separated)

Day 1 ➤ Gun Play ♡ Boothill (HSR) , Gilbert (IKEPRI)

Day 2 ➤ Mirror Sex ♡ Dr Ratio (HSR) , Prefect Luminary (LBC)

Day 3 ➤ Hate Sex ♡ Blade (HSR) , Alhaitham (Genshin)

Day 4 ➤ Masochist ♡ Sunday (HSR) , Geshu Lin (WuWa)

Day 5 ➤ Manhandling ♡ Danfeng (HSR) , Chevalier (IKEPRI)

Day 6 ➤ Clothes Grinding ♡ Zayne , Sylus (LADs)

Day 7 ➤ Somnophilia ♡ Ayato (Genshin) , Malleus (Twst)

Day 8 ➤ Thigh Riding ♡ Nanook (HSR) , Chevalier (IKEPRI)

Day 9 ➤ Aphrodisiac ♡ Jiaoqiu (HSR) , Neuvilette (Genshin)

Day 10 ➤ Degradation ♡ Cael , Prefect Luminary (LBC)

Day 11 ➤ Breeding Kink ♡ Zhongli (Genshin) , Lilia (Twst)

Day 12 ➤ Face Sitting ♡ Sunday , Nanook (HSR)

Day 13 ➤ Cock Warming ♡ Neuvilette (Genshin) , Malleus (Twst)

Day 14 ➤ Mutual Masturbation ♡ Chevalier , Gilbert (IKEPRI)

FULL FIC SERIES

Day 15 ➤ Bondage ♡ Blade (HSR)

Day 16 ➤ Vouyeurism ♡ Jingyuan (HSR)

Day 17 ➤ Orgasm Control ♡ Gilbert (IKEPRI)

Day 18 ➤ Somnophilia ♡ Chevalier (IKEPRI)

Day 19 ➤ Body Worship ♡ Zayne (LADs)

Day 20 ➤ Corruption ♡ Sunday (HSR)

Day 21 ➤ Monster Fucking ♡ Malleus (Twst)

THREESOME SERIES

Day 22 ➤ Public Sex ♡ Jiyan & Geshu Lin (Wuwa)

Day 23 ➤ Shower Sex ♡ Cael & Prefect Luminary (LBC)

Day 24 ➤ Oviposition ♡ Neuvilette & Zhongli (Genshin)

Day 25 ➤ Deepthroating ♡ Jingyuan & Blade (HSR)

Day 26 ➤ Spanking/Mating Press ♡ Chevalier & Gilbert (IKEPRI)

Day 27 ➤ Overblot Smut ♡ Leona & Malleus (Twst)

Day 28 ➤ Daddy Kink ♡ Victor & William (IKEVIL)

Day 29 ➤ Oviposition ♡ DanHeng & DanFeng (HSR)

GANGBANG / DRAGON SERIES

Characters involved for both fics: Neuvilette, Zhongli (Genshin), Malleus (Twst), Danheng, Danfeng (HSR)

Day 30 ➤ Sex Toys

Day 31 ➤ Hunter & Prey

I do not own any of the above characters. Please do not repost/translate/plagiarize any of my works. I do not condone any irl actions of my fics. I made the banners myself. Please do not save/copy.

[sikuanlili]

Any Lovebrush Chronicles girlie out here?🤚

[vivsicx]

Happy (belated) Birthday Cael (๑·̀ㅁ·́๑)✧

It’s a new year…

[airjemsfandump]

Lovebrush Chronicles (For All Time) Incorrect Text Posts Part 3

[romance-rambles]

au - lads hunter!cael | another happy life

Unable to prevent your death, Cael has returned to the past time and time again. And he will do so until he finds one that ends happily.

1.9k, alternate universe - lads [no prior knowledge needed] + time loops, angst [character death + references to suicide], hopeful/unhappy-ish ending, reader is mc, series: none

IT HAS OFT BEEN REPEATED by those around him that Cael looks stunning in red.

The beginning is marked by lipstick, a bold red that immortalizes your kiss on his cheek. Your words are half a jest; your attempts at wiping away the stain are entirely half-hearted. You give up on hiding your pleased smile before he can call you out on it, and there it stays for the entirety of your goodbye.

In the years that follow, it becomes a tradition that bleeds into their office life—one so commonplace that the teasing glances and thumbs up offered to them by their coworkers become rolled eyes and a fond shake of the head.

But when you kissed him outside your apartment on that snowy December night, had you ever considered that the red you would bestow on him would one day be your blood?

It stains his hands, his face, his uniform.

When he closes his eyes, the faint lavender of his shampoo is overtaken by the stench of blood. He sees you leaning against a tree, your sword held close to your chest the way someone might hold a stuffed animal. When he opens his eyes, he sees red, red, more red—a river of blood bathing the pristine walls of their shared apartment in that infernal color.

A Hunter's job is inherently dangerous. After all, Wanderers are near infinite, in both numbers and form. They're monsters, spreading chaos and destruction wherever they go. Basking in it, even. And Cael has sat through enough funerals to know all of that.

For friends.

For colleagues and strangers.

For you.

A few years ago, when he came across you again, he swore once again your only funeral in this lifetime would be in your old age. A quiet affair, where people would say reassuringly, She lived a long, happy life. And he would know it was the truth from smile lines you wore with pride in all your photos.

But fate does not bow to the whims of mortals so easily.

Another happy life slips through his fingers.

THOUGH THE MEMORY OF FINDING you remains vivid in his mind, the events that follow this discovery are a blur. He knows, with some certainty, that it was Ambrum who found him—and that it was also Ambrum who forced him into the shower and promised him a warm meal.

All roads lead to a fixed destination, and Cael has wandered enough of them to know how this goes. Tonight, he wanders his way into his seat at the dining table, where a bowl of warm soup waits for him. Tomorrow, he will wander his way into your funeral.

The day after that, he will wander into the past. You will smile at him warmly, unaware of what he future holds for you, and he will spend the next few years waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And it always does.

He stares blankly ahead, past even the mural you insisted on drawing above the cabinets that sit behind the table. Its shapes and colors blur into a mess under his unfocused gaze. A flash of teal erupts at his side, Ambrum's chair dragging against the hardwood floor.

His friend sits down quietly.

As he usually does, Ambrum says, "You should drink it while it's hot."

Cael picks up his spoon. Counts the hours until he can see you again. Looks down, ignoring Ambrum's red-rimmed eyes and weak smile. And finally, eats his first meal since he found you on the forest floor.

Ambrum lets out a relieved sigh.

No matter how many times he does this, the guilt of leaving his friends behind never lessens its chokehold on him. Two days after tomorrow will come Cael's funeral and they will bury him beside you, the same way the two of you have always insisted on.

He will leave behind a letter that amounts to Sorry—but he will never know if Ambrum and the others will read it. Does his meddling erase all that unfolds in the future? Does it simply open a different path for everyone in the past, leaving those he's left behind to live their lives out in full?

Are you watching him from afar as he confidently walks to his death?

There are many things Cael does not know.

But one day, you will live to be a hundred years old, and he can worry about it all then.

THE FIRST TIME AROUND, IT is merely a coincidence.

When he walks into that Wanderer-filled zone, his destination is not the past. Cael merely requires a place to rest before he can see you again. The Wanderers have numbers in the double-digits; that, in itself, is ordinary business, as long as no one looks at the ranking they've been given by the Hunter's Association.

He dies holding the cat-shaped tassel you gifted him on their first anniversary.

Cael awakens in the school courtyard, Ambrum by his side. Across the courtyard, you huddle together with your friend, giggling about what he will later learn is Naledi's crush on her future husband. His friend nudges him with a grin on his face and says what he once said a lifetime ago:

"She's cute, isn't she? The one with dark hair."

Up until he falls ungracefully down the stairs in trying to keep up with you during lunch hour, he's convinced he's in a dream. For his troubles, he receives a sprained ankle, and your endless sympathy.

When Ambrum tells you his version of why Cael fell, on the day they all graduate, your sympathy is replaced with relentless teasing. This time, for his troubles, he gets to put a ring on your finger.

You die a few days shy of your twenty-sixth birthday, and that is the first time he tests the limits of his abilities. It does not matter who kills him. It only matters that he dies.

And so, he develops a craving for death.

IN TIME, HE LOSES COUNT of all the ways you die. The various gruesome scenes he's watched over and over again superimpose over one another, leaving behind a hideous amalgamation to haunt him.

But there are some memories that peak through the curtain of death and destruction.

Once, he leaves behind the Hunters' lifestyle—and with that, you as well. He damns himself to a near lifetime of vigilante business, hoping that this time, all will be well. You will have no rival to compete with, and it might spur you into retirement.

He underestimates you once. It takes him a while before he learns his lesson.

Seven years later, the headlines talk of a mother who sacrificed herself for her child. A brave Hunter, off-duty, who fought off a hoard of Wanderers all alone.

In this lifetime, he lives to be ninety-five. Cael raises a daughter who looks like him but has her mother's smile. He does not have to bury her before her time. She lives an ordinary life and marries an ordinary man and they both teach at an ordinary elementary school.

When he closes his eyes for the last time, he is given the farewell that you have always deserved, but never received. When he opens his eyes again, he is once more in the school courtyard.

Another time, his daughter grows up with both her parents from the start. She's a curious little thing, always with cheerful smile on her face—a far cry from the solemn girl he raised before. But he is still a Hunter, and so are you.

It does not matter how many times he hopes to dissuade you from your path. You are destined to be a Hunter, and it is a destiny you're better off following. The skills learned from the Hunters' Academy at least afford you a chance at survival.

In this lifetime, they leave behind a daughter on the cusp of turning eleven.

As a rule, they avoid taking the more risky and time-intensive missions. Where once their priority was giving it their all, it is now to be able to come home to their little girl. But there is an ambush. They are surrounded.

For once, he goes before you do.

And there is one other memory that stands the test of time. A single thread ties all three of them together—the existence of another girl he would turn back time for. This time as well, he goes first, to an ambush of Wanderers.

This time as well, he fights not to.

This time as well, Cael wants to live. He wants to go home to you and their daughter, and continue the dream-like days that might escape him at any time. Three days shy of their tenth anniversary, time rewinds, bringing him back to his high school's courtyard.

The friendly smile you offer him, once you notice him staring, is once more devoid of the affection he's grown to expect.

FAMILIAL TIES ARE FEW AND far between for the both of you.

The summer before their last year in high school, your mother falls ill. By the time graduation rolls around, it's been a few months since she's passed on. Three years later, his own adoptive mother dies in an unfortunate case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time—an explosion occurs at the shopping street she's at, just as she's about to leave.

A few days before the eighth anniversary of your mother's death, your cat passes away from old age. You commission a pair of cat-shaped tassels in Beanie's honor and so he stays with you both even in death.

Even so, neither of you have ever been lonely.

In the years since high school, those in their friend group have scattered across the country. But the distance has never affected their close bonds. Every year, they reunite in the big city that they grew up in and chat about big things and little things and nothing at all.

This year, they reunite for your funeral.

They take their places beside him, staring blankly at the dressed-up corpse resting peacefully in the coffin. Their red-rimmed eyes speak of their sorrow; the hesitation in their eyes before they greeted him speak of their concern.

They offer none of the platitudes that everyone else does—neighbors, acquaintances, friends of friends.

"She was gone too soon."

"She lived a good life."

"She's in a better place now."

Cael only nods, his mind somewhere far away.

Whenever a Hunter falls, whether in the line of action or outside of it, the Hunters' Association handles the funeral proceedings. They add the fallen hunter's image to a long list on their website, dedicated to mourning the fallen, and offer a substantial package for the family they left behind.

Beyond that, there's not much of a buzz generated for such an event. A Hunter dies every other day—the reminder of their mortality, say the ones in their giant offices, will only dampen the people's spirits.

The state of things has always bothered Cael, even before Death began to hunt those close to him. Most people will never know of the sacrifices that have made their day-to-day life possible.

These days, he no longer cares. He no longer has the energy to.

Instead, he looks at his watch and counts down the hours until he can do this song and dance all over again.

— happy (very belated) birthday to the talented @paintersknife!!

[misto713]

poor emperor lars. imagine this deck from his POV:

you FINALLY get rid of the silver knight, save your kingdom (and seduce the knight's beloved ward) when your hard-won fiancee pulls out her super-magic cards... and it's all this bastard again.

poor blondie. he's going to cry 😔

(i might like making him cry tho...)

[shirolian]

[tobyjbnz]

have these little silly's I made.. 😭

[mello-bee]

House of Destiny Au

have you ever noticed that William only sells you 3 beds??

[paintersknife]

Lost

I was asked for a Silver Knight fic, so here's a Silver Knight fic

TW: suicide (it's not graphic)

He has been here before. He has been here before, too many times to count. So why does it feel different now? Has she always had such fear in her eyes? Something twists in his gut, a long forgotten instinct. Like a beast recoiling from fire? No, something deeper, like a bird hearing its chick call for them with the melody that only they share. On instinct, Cael clutches her closer to himself, seeing the flicker of hope that ignites in her eyes. The hope that reality will soon smother, that misplaced dream that he can save her. As desperately as he wants to fulfil that dream, he knows it’s impossible. He knows that his hands were made to destroy, not to save. Never to save. Blood bubbles out from the corner of her mouth as she tries to force out the sounds that make his name, and memories surface, unbidden. He remembers her whimpering his name the first time he held her like this, trying to comfort her in the purgatory that lasts until time finally resets itself around her. He remembers the time after that, when she had clutched his sleeve– Just like she clutches it now– how her fingers lost their grip as life ebbed from her body. He remembers how every single time, his name had been upon her last breath. How every single time, his face was always the last thing she saw. The only thing he can do now is to comfort her, to stroke her hair as her ragged breaths quiet and finally cease. She won't remember this death, just like she wouldn't remember the countless others before it, but that is barely any consolation. 

Before the world around him dissolves into static, he is overtaken by the urge to press his lips to her forehead, and so he does, his touch lighter than the snow falling around the both of them.

The motion feels familiar somehow, like something half-dreamt and barely remembered, but somehow right. 

But before he can question it any further, he finds himself once again in the Silver Knight’s tent, lonelier and colder than it has ever been.

His gloved hands curl into fists as he sends Liam away with some perfunctory words. None of this had bothered him before, so why now? 

She is merely the charge left to him by his superior, an obligation, a burden. So why does she suddenly stir something in the deepest recesses of his memory, in a murky place that even the Empire hadn’t been able to touch? 

These thoughts are of no help to him. All he knows is that he cannot bear to see this happen to her again. He will let her go, severing this cursed bond that he has trapped her with.

Her own path lies ahead, unwritten.

He should not interfere.

-

Even after he sets her free, Cael isn’t able to stop himself from watching her journey from afar. She’s breathtaking, he muses, seeing her fight. The complete opposite of his creations that she destroys, the painter is meticulous, precise, just like her brushstrokes, shattering their rime crusted wings into crystalline dust. There’s a dancer’s elegance in her movements, and he laughs ruefully, knowing that this was something that she doesn’t realise about herself. 

The fire in her eyes was made to temper, not consume.

So how can he dare to covet it so?

He’s envious of her, of that changeability, that limitless growth. It won’t be long now before she surpasses her mother, his superior that he had looked up to. 

How will he see her then? 

With the same reverence? 

With pride? Suddenly, he’s afraid, a deep ache making itself known in the space under his ribs. She’s a beautiful thing, never staying still, always evolving. He’s the opposite, like cold marble to her limitless ivy. How long would it take for her to outgrow him? She would deny it, of course, but he knows her well. He has already seen it in their unwritten future, how she would cripple her own wings for his sake, and never for a moment blame him. Regret was something she would never do, so he would carry it for the both of them, even knowing that it would ruin them both. He can already see himself as the hand that pinions her, taking the hand she offers him only to pull her down.

The painter scatters the last of the butterflies in front of her, taking a moment to catch her breath before she hurries off again, going to check on the people that came with her. The Silver Knight watches her treat their wounds with care, her smile warm enough to drive back the harsh bite of eternal winter.

It is in her nature to love others, and receive love in return.

A stray glacial butterfly flutters towards him, the sole survivor of her earlier performance. Its flight is crooked, its wings bent and torn by her illustra. 

It is in his nature to destroy, to be the hand that seizes victory.

His fingers close around the butterfly, beautiful, ethereal, and fragile, just like she is. Tearing his eyes away from her, he finally leaves, crushed gossamer wings the only trace of his presence.

There’s an emptiness in his chest, an endless abyss. One that he never knew was there. Until now.

Cael yearns to step into the light beside her. Prefect Silver knows that it’s impossible.

The place by her side could not ever belong to him.

-

The script demands the Silver Knight attack the capital and he plays his role dutifully, knowing that she should be safe beside the man that she has chosen. 

It only takes a second, a momentary lapse in his usually impeccable awareness. The dagger that buries itself into his side is meaningless to him, and he easily tears it from his body, slashing the throat of the knight that dared to wound him. Cael’s legs lose their strength and he realises it was coated with venom, but even then, it is nothing but an annoyance, something that would only immobilise him momentarily. What makes his blood truly run cold is the familiar voice that screams his name. 

He turns, and he can remember that look on her face, the earth shattering grief that looks as if it would crush her. It was something he saw often when she lost her mother, but he doesn’t understand why he sees it again. That was a look reserved for those she loved. It can’t be for him. It shouldn’t. By his own hands, he has ruined this world she holds so dear and is so fervently trying to save. They are soaked with the blood of multitudes, stained so deeply that nothing could ever wash them clean again. 

He wants to call out to her, to tell her that monsters don’t die so easily, but the toxin still has him in its sway.

She falls to her knees, desperate, trembling, as she closes her hands around the hilt of the dagger. Distantly he is aware of the sound of someone screaming the painter’s name, blissfully ignorant to the fact that it comes from his own lips. In a cruel twist, time seems to slow around him, binding his movements more than the toxin does, rejecting his mastery over it as it forces him to look, to only watch her from a distance, just like he had been for the last few years. Her hands are quivering, the tip of the blade wavering as she raises it towards herself, but her expression is as dauntless as it has ever been, as if this is the only thing she's sure of. 

Her lips curl around the syllables that form his name, but he cannot hear it. 

With one thrust, his own heart is pierced.

And shatters.

He roars, finally breaking the intangible chains that have shackled his being in place, his arms barely moving in time to catch her body as it falls. 

Hot tears fall on her cheek, looking like dew on her eyelashes for a moment before they freeze in the frigid cold. He's unaware of them falling from him, unaware of anything except the numb void in his mind and the all consuming ache in his chest as his fingers fumble for the lapis necklace. 

The static he's so intimately familiar with is nowhere to be seen, and his stomach drops, knowing that he would be consigning her to remember this. To remember the disgrace she had to suffer, all for him. His stomach lurches again, but he presses the cold chain to her anyway. He has to. The alternative is unthinkable.

“Please,” he entreats, voice hoarse, fingers clenched so tight his already pale skin loses any remaining colour. He doesn't even know if he's begging her, or begging all of creation or even begging himself. “Please don't. You can't.”

Finally he feels the pull as time begins to realign itself once more and he crushes her limp form to his chest, not wanting to let her go. Afraid to let her go. 

He has always been cold, but her tiny, fragile, broken body seems to sap all the warmth he could ever feel. He doesn’t care. It is the least he can give to her, who had the misfortune of meeting the likes of him.

Her path forward should always be one free from thorns. The one without him.

-

She’s not sure if the memory is even real, or a half recalled dream, twisted by her own despair and longing into the reality that she desperately wishes for. She thinks she remembers the fleeting feeling of his lips brushing her forehead, of words whispered in her ears in that liminal space between dreams and wakefulness.

“Forgive me.”

The only thing she knows is that he’s gone. Others have noticed his absence as well, but it’s easy for them to brush it off as the same as one of his countless routine disappearances. A business trip. A sabbatical. A conference. A vacation. Everyone has an explanation for her, but when she sees the concern and pity in their gazes, the unspoken question of ‘ He’s your guardian, didn’t he tell you?’, she stops talking about it.

So she goes through the motions, as if she too is a ghost that isn’t really there. Time has no hold over her, but now it seems to stretch on infinitely, each solitary second an entire lifetime. 

Are the words that twist in on themselves in the restless nights like unfulfilled infinity even real? “You’ll understand in time,” she thinks he said, but she still doesn't understand. She can’t understand anything, least of all why he isn’t here by her side, his graceful fingers brushing her hair out of her face as he whispers quiet comfort. Instead, she can only mourn him like she mourned her mother, except this time, she’s alone.

Even dreams now bring anguish instead of bliss. All she can find of him there are his faint afterimages, dull, muted, lifeless, as if all the colour in the world has been drained from them. It��s a curse, to be one step behind him where before she would walk by his side, his stride held so she could keep up, something he did only for her. But that was when they had each other, before he left her with only memories and regret.

Some nights she can almost feel his familiar presence, like how she used to when they were merely temporarily parted, and she’s almost sure that if she looks behind her, she’ll be gazing into those lilac eyes and their untold depths. He’s a traveller too, and far more experienced than her so the illusion always shatters, she’s always a mere step behind him, but that step might as well be infinity. Those nights she wakes with tears soaking her pillow and a sadness that curls itself in her chest, settling there to roost. Every night she prays she won’t dream, sometimes she wishes she simply wouldn’t wake. 

“I have to do this… for you.”

How can this be for her own good if she hasn't felt whole since? Like there’s a rent in her soul that can never heal, like how a newly missing limb leaves a person collapsed each time they forget its absence. 

But something deep inside her knows, has always known that he isn't coming back.

Not now. Not ever.

The only thing she can do is spend the rest of her life chasing after a mirage, an apparition, for the words she desperately wants to believe she heard, but will never hear again. 

“I love you,”

Yeah I know I posted that last bit before but it worked so perfectly here that I just adapted it

[manytoonepoet13]

My Dear, My Heart...

You ask me why I love you...?

Well, I should apologize because I simply cannot give you a logical explanation. Because love.. it is not logical by nature.

It does not follow a predetermined course, or obey a set of rules, or follow instructions.

It is unpredictable and irrational, wild and untamed.

There may be rights and wrongs surrounding the said feeling, yes.

Even though it does not follow a linear path, there are indeed limits that it cannot and should not cross.

That much I can wholeheartedly admit.

But I can tell you this...

When I look at you, I see a future, I see a life.

I see a life in which what surrounds us is laughter and joy, with shared moments and stolen kisses.

I see a life in which I no longer walk this world alone, but rather with you by my side.

I see a life in which I wake up each morning with your visage beside me.

I see a life in which my heart is full and my soul is content.

Oh, and I must tell you...

When I first laid eyes on you.. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

But now, my dear, I see that you are far more than just beautiful.

You are incredible, captivating, and enchanting.

You have taken hold of my heart and made it your own.

And with each beat of our hearts entwined...

I fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

It is a feeling both sweet and terrifying.

A force of nature unlike anything I've ever known before.

I am powerless against it, but I have no desire to resist.

So I ask of you, my dear, to not doubt my love for you.

Doubt the color of the sky.

Doubt the flow of the river.

Doubt the wind that dances with the trees.

Doubt even the beat of your own heart.

But do not doubt my love, it is steadfast and unwavering.

For you, my dear...

I would let myself be swept away.

I would let myself be carried on the wings of passion and desire.

I would let myself surrender my heart and soul to you, without hesitation, without regret.

As how a man would when he sees his strength, his destruction, his peace, his conflict, his love, his best friend, in the most beautiful woman to grace the earth.

You have set my world ablaze, and I gladly burn in your fire.

~Many To One Poet~

[myurucrie]

rereading Lars route in godheim is low key funny

[hollyparrot]

Lovebrush Chronicles

I found out about this game from a totally random comment on another subreddit for a different game. Commenter didn't even say anything about the game. Just mentioned it in passing. Thought about installing to kill time while waiting for stamina on the other games.

Oh my! I'm the type who skips the story, clear the battles, and just come back to them "later" (meaning never. I just wanna stare at pretty 2d husbandos) but I'm hooked on this one! It's like a book I don't wanna put down. I *want* to read what's gonna happen

This is the first time I like all the LI's. Two of them I do not plan to pursue, and the other three I can't decide who to "main". This is only for the gacha, as I plan to read all the stories that the game throws at me if possible. I wanna know what happens to everyone!

I can't believe I've slept on this game for a long time. I find it even harder to believe that there's minimal online presence about it. How has the algorithm/s never shown me anything about this game?

Lets see. Should I go after Jafar, Lelouch, or Howl 😅

[the12thnightproject]

If I had known that leveling up a gacha GC would turn it into this, I would have done it sooner.

[airjemsfandump]

I love how in every universe, where other LI's are like "I swear on my life to keep you happy and safe", "I'll keep you safe even if it costs me my happiness and my life", or "My body is your shield, I'll gladly die for you," Ayn is always the enabler of the warrior spirit within Little Painter. Like the others, he would also gladly put his life on the line for her but he has to make sure she'd still beat anyone's ass who dares to hurt her even after he's gone. And I love that so much. 😩