#my memory isn’t the greatest but it was something like this

[skyward-floored]

how'd you first get into LU? 👀

- hero-of-the-wolf

I’ll be completely honest with you, it’s been long enough that I don’t totally remember everything XD

But... there was a period of time when I was a teenager, where I would get on the Internet on my 3ds Internet browser because it was more private and poke around, looking for interesting Zelda things. I’d fully played oot and botw at that point and was ravenous for more, and so I would hop on whatevrr search engine was on there and look at images and be pretty content with what I found.

At some point I realized that putting “tumblr” into my searches tended to yield much more interesting results, so I started doing that, and saw all kinds of neat fanart and stuff. Some... not so much, but the majority of it was pretty cool. This was before lu or really any links meet AUs had gained quite as much traction and lu wasn’t everywhere like it is now, so I didn’t see any sign of it. I did find a different comic with two Links interacting though, and that was insanely cool to me.

Links meeting each other??? COOL.

I found the blog where this comic was, and read pretty much everything there was about it, got really attached to botw Link and tp goofing off with each other and having a grand old time. The comic has since been discontinued, and I sadly don’t remember the blog, but it was a really fun little comic, and I really liked it. I started looking for other things where Links met, but there wasn’t all that much out there at that point at all. I found Dimensional Links (which I very much recommend, it’s hilarious and awesome), and some one-off pictures of Links interacting, but no other comics, which was what I was really looking for.

I began to drift around on tumblr itself occasionally, since that got more results than just the internet browser, and scrolled through some zelda blogs, enjoying their content and stuff. I didn’t get a blog at that point (that would have been committing, and there’s always been a sense of social media is not good in my house), I just lurked around and looked at cool stuff.

I think what happened then was I found some of Jojo’s regular loz art. Pretty sure that it was the tp comic she did for that one fic, and I loved that. I hopped over to her blog, and that’s when I found the original lu designs post.

It looked vaguely familiar (I think I’d maybe seen it on some of my search engine searches), but it turned out that there was a comic attached to it?? “This has turned into a full story now”??? There were nine Links interacting and the very first comic had angst???

I jumped at that, and devoured everything that there was to read at the time. I came in somewhere around the Threatening Shadows/Mask arcs, and got violently sucked into the designs and characters and story and I’ve been here ever since lol.

It took me over a year after that to finally get a blog, and that was actually kind of because of ninjago, but I’ve been lurking around the lu fandom since sometime in 2019 :)

[healerelowen]

Vent thing

[theloveinc]

I miss writing

[quarterlifekitty]

first, im a bit new to cod but idk…

thinking about ghost’s spouse visiting him on base or some shit, and everyone else wondering how tf he was emotionally flexible enough to bag a bad bitch 🫶

note: this is just my personal little fantasy world headcanon lol so take it with a grain of salt!

Simon maintains a vaguely human lifestyle by adhering to one very strict rule: rigid compartmentalization. You don’t come up at work, and work doesn’t come up around you. Never the twain shall meet, he thinks. And he’s not exactly a watershed of information when he’s with his mates. And it’s not like anyone is asking “When was the last time you got fucked, Ghost?” and seriously expecting a response.

He tells you about the crew, but not about what he does with them. Killing, espionage, torture– that kind of thing stays off the dinner table.

Let it be known that you do not surprise him at work. You respect his boundaries too much, which is why he’s so fucking serious about you, honestly. He calls, asking if you can run something to him. This is maybe the greatest symbol of trust he can bestow, as a man who has only a fraction of an existence in the eyes of the government: he asks you to bring a document of his. He gives you the instructions on how to find it, and trusts that you won’t look at anything you don’t have to.

You know Johnny lets out a low whistle when he sees you coming up with a manilla folder in your hands.

“Who’s that bloody bombshell, then?”

You spy Simon and jog up to him with a smile. He’s the one who embraces you, short but strong. Cue the nigh audible gasping.

“LT, you absolute dog.”

Simon rolls his eyes as the two of you are crowded in short order. You make polite introductions, but have a previous engagement– you really did only have time to stop by.

Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

Everyone is wondering how this could’ve happened. For the record– I think in this scenario, Johnny and Gaz go through a constant string of heartbreaks, and John is kinda married to his job. So in a cruel twist of fate, Simon is actually the only one currently with a partner, much less a spouse.

“How’d you manage to bag a right beauty like that, LT? C’mon, spill it–”

Simon doesn’t mean to diminish your value or anything, but his answer is not going to be satisfying, because he doesn’t find it that difficult to get women. And also, you’re his true love, so you’re perfect for each other and growing close to you was as easy as breathing. But he doesn’t say that.

“S’not that hard. Remember the stuff she says, don’t keep no secrets… dick ‘er down the way she likes.” He doesn’t mean to be crude about it, but from his perspective, is one of the main reasons why you tolerate him. Soap howls at the response.

He’s telling the truth, though! He has a scarily good memory. Remembers every friend you’ve ever told him about, every movie you’ve ever mentioned, every meal he’s cooked for you and how you liked it. He remembers dates, times, and lists with no issue whatsoever.

And he’s never kept anything from you. He tells you how the fuck he’s feeling, and you return the favor, even if it isn’t pleasant. The only thing he doesn’t mention to you are the gorey details of his work.

And you have never had more of a communicative partner, ironically. There were times in the beginning when he didn’t know all of the ins and outs of coaxing pleasure from your body, so he asked you to show him how you like it. And that scary memory is at work yet again– every sensitive spot, every offhand mention of a kink you’ve not yet explored together, every arch of your spine and clench of your cunt. He’s got it down to a science. Could write novels about making love to you specifically.

What I’m trying to say, at the end of the day, is that Ghost bagged a bad bitch by being autistic.

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[yuoimia]

50% YOU AND ME

summary: you two as parents

characters: alhaitham, diluc

notes: gn! reader, fluff, diluc is noted to have a daughter (alhaitham one isn’t specified), wc: 600.

alhaitham

unknowingly spoils his child. both behaviour-wise and financially. which, perhaps, makes the sentiment even more sweet. his tender actions don’t match the sharp words of warning that frequently spill from his lips, diminishing like a blown candle from faltering disappointment. no, he’s most definitely not smiling, let alone smirking from behind his palm!

the one to wake up your child through the late hours of the night to give them a dose of medicine when they’re sick, despite his preference for getting a full eight hours of quality sleep. “i don’t want to deal with your grumpiness in the morning,” he claims when you volunteer. it’s half true, but wouldn’t it be a thousand times more efficient and straightforward if he could just say that he just didn’t want to see you disturbed from your beloved sleep? overworking was something alhaitham could not easily allow.

(also because he knows considers himself a little more lenient than you when it comes to parenting…hearing with an argument at 1 in the morning in the next room about how disgusting the medicine tastes for twenty minutes would be far worse than sacrificing five minutes to reach a more successful outcome)

with love comes discipline, knowledge is important, but happiness is too. to maintain equilibrium between the two is his greatest rule. nights will roll past, not finished without a book or two, a few questions, answers, and inside jokes, ending with a secret snack in the dim light of the kitchen when he checked you had certainly fell asleep (he can’t be caught for a third time, surely? he had just made it up to you..)

alhaitham is handsome. you are ethereal. of course, it’s practically guaranteed from the start that your child would be devastatingly beautiful. at least twice a day, he’ll catch himself completely awed. is that child really 50% of him?

diluc

diluc is a gentle father, his love is like the walls of crimson blossoms blooming all year, around the cobblestone edges of dawn winery’s manor, tendered so they remain exquisite and flowering, but left to their own winding paths and bonds alongside the golden honeysuckles.

morning adventures worthy of trailing journal entries, when the air outside is still crisp and fresh, the swatches of condensing clouds brushed across the pale blue sky. plates of homemade breakfast arranged on the table, your voice reverberating through the quiet halls as pairs of footsteps patter down the stairs.

“will i be able to take a bit of the clouds to put in my box?” your daughter asked, eyes wide and sparkling with the same alluring tint of carnelian as her father. excitement fizzed from her eyes to the tips of her brown boots, now jubilantly kicking the air under the table. from the satchel thrown around her shoulders, she pulled a rectangular box, approximately the size of your hand, decorated with sprawling doodles and glitters. “will it fit in here?” she questioned again, sneaking an apprehensive glance through the arching windows, now biting her lip.

“what are you planning?” you suddenly muttered anxiously, just loud enough, unaware of his previous promise. “you know she can’t actually grab a cloud.”

diluc smiled, facing you with a pleasant expression of satisfaction. “dandelions.”

celebrates the smallest achievements. they aren’t anything short of monumental to him; a significance in their life is just as important to be engraved into his. he keeps a diary of sorts, nothing too extravagant, occasionally entries with the date, maybe a few polaroid pictures, but overflowing with tender dreams, memories and hopes. and his greatest hope of all—that one day, the two people he loves most will be able to read it.

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction | yandere!jjk x reader jujutsu kaisen, yandere, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

also available on Ao3!

Leave Your Mark | bnha x reader my hero academia, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last.

also available on Ao3!

Heartbreaker | bnha x reader my hero academia, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You awaken one day with virtually no memories. The only thing guiding you is some strange system that likes to dictate your every move, and for some reason, it insists that you make certain people fall in love with you. Desperate for answers, you decide to go along with its demands. After all, how hard can it be?

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Made to Destroy | bnha x op!reader my hero academia, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Bloodthirst | bnha x vampire!reader my hero academia, reverse harem, vampire reader, f!reader

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Infatuated | yandere!bnha x reader my hero academia, yandere, reverse harem, f!reader

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

Love Bite | oc!vampires x reader yandere, reverse harem, vampires, original characters, f!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

also available on Wattpad!

Tears of a Villainess | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

Girlfriend-For-Hire | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

Changing Plotlines | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

Bewitched | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, magic, witches, f!reader

Having awoken one day with no memories apart from your name, you are endlessly thankful when a kind family decides to take you in as their own. But it appears as though your fate cannot be so easily overwritten, and as you discover more and more about the person you were meant to be, the hearts of those around you seem to change in a sinister way.

also available on Wattpad!

Crushed Velvet | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

[yuansie]

the greatest gamble of all

pairing. aventurine x gn! nameless! reader

synopsis. aventurine knows that he is unworthy of love, unworthy of you. because he, aventurine, is a tainted person and kakavasha is but a person with no future for himself. in both of his names, he is unworthy of you.

genres/aus. actually idek what type of au this would fall under saurrr idk what to say ummm friends to something more (?!), romance, pining, angst with a happy ending, smidge of fluff at the end

warnings. slight (or maybe not so slight at all?) spoilers about aventurine's background, mentions of death and murder, very sad and insecure aventurine, crying, slight displays of affection (a neck kiss?!), ooc aventurine ?! (bc im still doing the penacony quest HAHSHAJ)

wc. 1.6k

a/n. me when i only write about aventurine because aventurine is love, aventurine is life. also, i just have some serious brainrot for that man he deserves everything and more i love him sm !!!! also. aventurine this wednesday im SOOOO excited i need him NOW. will be skipping my first class so i can do his trial LMFAO and this NAWT edited !! (when will i ever edit something?? idk. whenever i am not a busy uni kid) the aventurine art was made by @/20231102thu on x (twitter) !!

AVENTURINE IS FULLY AWARE THAT HE ISN'T SOMEONE DESERVING OF, well, anything. he’s just someone that aimlessly wanders this world, not having a set destination. he doesn’t have anything worth living for.  he doesn’t have a home to return to because home means returning to a place filled with warmth and love. 

he does not remember the last time he felt his heart warm up, he’s not even sure if he’s even felt warmth. it is but a distant memory filled with sadness, such sorrow that makes his heart weep without knowing it. though, nowadays, he doesn’t feel like that. there’s just an emptiness in him, but he doesn’t mind it anymore. after the events at penacony, he’s just been… lost.

he hears a door open and slide shut, followed by the sound of footsteps. then, he senses someone standing right next to him as he gazes out the windows of the astral express. you spent a long time convincing the conductor and himeko that aventurine should be a guest, and you finally wore them out with your pleading after a good amount of hours. 

“penny for your thoughts?”

aventurine glances at you. your wounds from the battle are still healing, he notes, given by the bandages that wrap around your forearm and head. sunday will have to meet his fury on another day. “just thinking that this is a nice place.”

you chuckle, “it is, isn’t it?”

all he does is hum in response, still staring out in the vast expanse of space. he likes how the stars look and as his eyes linger on penacony, he wonders if his home looked similar to that. he wouldn't know because he never saw how it looked when he left and never will. his thoughts don’t linger on that much when he instead focuses on the way your fingers brush against his hand. he flinches and stares wide-eyed at how you easily grab onto his hand, a dirty piece of flesh undeserving of the warmth that radiates from your skin and seeps into his own.

“aventurine—”

“kakavasha.”

“hm?” you tilt your head to the side, blinking at him in confusion.

he wants to look away from you, from your eyes. but he wills himself to keep looking and somehow, he ends up gripping onto your hand tightly. you don't complain and instead squeeze back, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“my name is… kakavasha.” aventurine feels his stomach twist and turn at your silence so he continues to speak, “i just thought… that you should know it before it’s completely gone.”

“and why do you say that?”

“it’s a name meant to be forgotten in the sand.”

your response is so quick that it almost gives him whiplash. “no it isn't.”

“excuse me?” he blurts out, surprised that you even said such a thing about him.

“it isn't a name meant to be forgotten in the sand,” you say, a certain calmness in your voice that has aventurine waiting with bated breath at what else you have to say. “it's too pretty to be forgotten and, well, it's your name.” 

and then he feels his face heat up; his ears, neck and cheeks feel like they’re burning up.

“kakavasha,” you hum, smiling, “kava, for short. it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?”

it does have a nice ring to it, but only because you're the one saying it. aventurine merely nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. he looks away and stares outside the window, not wanting to look at you anymore because he fears this warm feeling will take over his entire being.

a nice silence blankets over the two of you, one that you break after a while.

“what’s the story behind your name right now? aventurine… why are you called that now?”

“because kakavasha had no future,” he replies, “kakavasha didn’t have a future, he didn’t deserve to live either. who i am now, aventurine, does.”

“kakavasha deserves to live too.” aventurine turns his body to look at you, blinking in surprise. “i don’t know how you got that thought in your head, but kakavasha deserves to live just as much as the person you are now.”

“but aventurine is tainted. this name has too much blood on it, too many sins on it. the person i am now doesn’t deserve to live either. kakavasha should be a name buried in the sands of time while aventurine should be burnt to a crisp for the things i’ve done.”

yes, he is tainted. his body, his everything is tainted. it is marred by an ugly color, a stain of who he was and is, never to be cleaned. aventurine lets go of your hands, worried that you might also get stained by his sins. he should drive you away now before the aching in his small heart decides to cling to you and the warmth you give him. he will tell you his story, tell you about the mark on his neck, tell you how he killed the man that bought him, tell you about how he is a tainted person. he is a tainted person unworthy of you, unworthy of that love you hold.

he may have never experienced love. after all, all of his past relationships were purely physical. no one cared about going deeper beyond his facade, they all just wanted a fun night. so while he has never experienced it, he is no fool. he can recognize that the emotion in your pretty eyes when you look at him is love. you love aventurine, the him who has betrayed and used you and your companions in one way or another on penacony. he doesn’t understand why and maybe he never will because the mere fact that you feel something towards him is so bizarre.

so he should ruin whatever it is that you love about him and tell you the truth, taint your rose-colored view on him. aventurine needs to do it now before his heart tells him not to. he knows his heart is already lovesick, so needy of that bit of love it has received from you. his heart wants to hold on tightly to you and drown in you, drown in those feelings of yours. his tiny heart wants to love you too, it wants to love you just as much as you love him. he wants your everything to consume his entire being.

but after he tells you the truth, you will leave and you will be the first and last person he’s loved. you will be the first and last person to somehow climb over the tall walls he’s built around himself and crack open the facade he’s made.

but what if… what if you stay after everything? what will happen then?

it is that small hope that he ends up clinging to.

if he is blessed gaiathra, if he is lucky, then what if… what if this is his greatest gamble of all? a gamble of love: will he lose you or will you stay?

aventurine has made up his mind despite the rational part in him telling him to not even do it, yet he does. the words flow out of his mouth easily, though his heart weighs heavy in his chest. he expects to you leave, he really does because who would want someone as ugly as him? but the tears that leaves your eyes and roll down your cheeks catches him completely off guard.

“why are you crying?” he asks, his hands reaching out to hold your arms.

your lips quiver and a hand grabs onto one of his while the other reaches out, fingers stopping before they touch his neck. aventurine leans in without thinking and a shiver goes up his spine when your fingertips gently graze the marks on his neck. you rub over the marks, “you didn’t deserve any of that, kakavasha.”

“if i could, i would take this from you and any pain you’ve felt and will feel. i would take away all of the unpleasant memories that plague your mind. for you, i would do anything.” 

his knees buckle at your words and you both tumble down to the ground; he ends up being on top of you. your eyes widen when aventurine’s own tears begin to rain down, some falling onto your cheek.

“why would you say something so cruel to me?” he mutters. “don’t give me false hope. you should leave now before you do it in the future.”

“why should i leave the man that i love?” you purse your lips, your eyebrows furrowing.

aventurine shoves his head into the crook of your neck. “i am undeserving of you. i’m lesser than everyone in all of these galaxies.”

“you are not lesser than everyone,” you grumble, raking your hand through his blond hair. “everyone is the same because at the end of the day, we all want to love and to be loved.”

“i’m afraid i won’t be able to leave you now.” he hears you laugh softly, saying how his eyelashes are tickling you. he decides to get impossibly closer to you and bat his eyelashes more, smiling at the sound of your laughter growing in volume. “you’re stuck with me, so don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

aventurine’s breath gets stuck in his throat. he feels your lips brush against his neck. “i think the one who should be saying that is me… say, promise me you won’t leave?”

“shouldn’t i be saying that?”

“kava, promise me.”

“i promise. will you promise the same thing too?”

“yes, i promise that i won’t leave you.”

kakavasha, a name forgotten in the sand, was dug up and remembered, held in the hands of someone that treats like the most precious thing. kakavasha, who had forgotten how it felt to love and be loved, remembered the feeling because of a single person.

and kakavasha, blessed by gaiathra, won his greatest gamble of all time. he won you and your love, something he will now protect and hold onto tightly.

[little-lynx]

EVERLARK OUTFITS: THE VICTORY TOUR

This part of “Catching Fire” is done (finally) so I put it all together;) DISTRICT 11, THE SQUARE

I go to my compartment and let the prep team do my hair and makeup. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. <…> As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Cinna puts the finishing touches on my outfit, switching my orange hairband for one of metallic gold and securing the mockingjay pin I wore in the arena to my dress. <…> I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. // Catching Fire, ch. 4

I think this dress should be a little semi-official so I choose cape sleeve sheath midi dress. It’s perfect for autumn (and they have early autumn weather there in 11th). The hair is just plain + gold hairband = girlish innocent look like the one after the games (this tactics they choose for the Tour). Plus I wanted to draw Katniss with her natural straight hair because i draw her with her braid usually ;) And again nothing about Peeta’s outfit. You know I feel like Portia 😅 because I have to choose how to dress Peeta. I’m not complaining through. So it is black suit with golden buttons (matching Katniss’s hairband and pin), thin soft orange sweater and black leather shoes.

DISTRICT 11, THE DINNER

A pale pink strapless dress brushes my shoes. My hair is pinned back from my face and falling down my back in a shower of ringlets. Cinna comes up behind me and arranges a shimmering silver wrap around my shoulders. He catches my eye in the mirror. “Like it?”  “It's beautiful. As always,” I say. “Let's see how it looks with a smile,” he says gently. // Catching Fire, ch.5

DISTRICT 7

Jackson has devised a game called «Real or Not Real» to help Peeta. He mentions something he thinks happened, and they tell him if it’s true or imagined, usually followed by a brief explanation. <...> But since Peeta’s greatest confusion centers around me—and not everything can be explained simply—our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating. Perhaps it isn’t even possible after what Snow did to him. But it does feel right to help him try. // Mockingjay, ch. 19

So we have only one sentence in “Mockingjay” about this outfit. And still I decided to draw it because I have a theory (head canon?) about it. I think Peeta remembers the color of her dress because it was special night for him (a lot of kisses and attempts to sneak away from everyone and maybe it felt very real at times) and also because she had two braids and the dress was red. RED is the color ❤️. / Peeta has dark red + black + a little bit gold which is also sexy color combination.

DISTRICT 5 I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour.  <…> Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta’s suits that they altered— the clothes are striking. <…>  As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s.  // Mockingjay, ch. 16

Katniss: green silk dress + wavy sleeves + sea waves embroidery / Peeta: ivory dress shirt + knitted green waistcoat with sea waves embroidery + tweed suit

DISTRICT 2

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head. “I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna. // Catching Fire, Chapter 15

This description gave me strong “Anastasia” feels 😅. So I loosely based Katniss dress on Anastasia’s ballet evening gown. For Peeta I chose tuxedo jacket similar to Salvatore Ferragamo design for FF 12/13.  Neo classic, purple velvet, shiny shoes. Also I decided to include a cane, both to help Peeta to have some rest during all this Tour activities and as an accessory.

DISTRICT 12

When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full-length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so I slip off to find her. <…> She [Madge] saw my reflection behind her and smiled. “Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.” // Catching Fire, ch.6

When I started drawing this one I just felt that I need to make it look very “Capitol”. So I added some feathers. A LOT of sparkling feathers, haha. Also there are some “moon and stars” accessories in Katniss’ hair because this silver gown gives me moonlight vibes. For Peeta I came up with classic suit but made him wear it casually.

[wordslikesilver]

I swear I’m almost done being mentally ill about Elden Ring I promise but I never see anyone talk about Morgott’s heart wrenching death scene. It’s never overtly pointed out but please imagine the progression of events from his perspective. Lying on his back, staring up at the sky, defeated. He’s one of the ONLY bosses that leaves behind a corpse and it’s heart wrenching okay, it’s OBLITERATING. Because he’s lying there withered and broken, staring up at the golden boughs of the one thing in the world he loved, not the golden order, not the greater will, he loved the Erdtree and dedicated his ENTIRE life to it even though it never loved him back because not even a man as scorned as Morgott could live without love and the love was to keep his heart still beating in his chest when he felt most like a monster. He has spent his entire life keeping this crumbling kingdom together. For his mother, who hid him away so the world wouldn’t hurt him, for his father, the man who taught him how to bear the weight of a crown and stand taller than the ignoble origins you come from. And he was so alone. The only constant in his life being that golden tree that shone down into the sewers. He is the last of all kings. The horns about his brow weighed heavier than his crown.

And then the tree was burning. Lying broken on the ground, unable to truly die, his curse expelled from his body, he could only look up and watch the only thing he loved with all his heart burn down around him. The ashes falling like snow on his face. Can you imagine the heat? The resignation? The misery and the promise that if there’s ever a next time, he’ll do better, and if there isn’t then this shall be his final legacy and he’ll just have to accept that final truth before he dies. The self hatred washing over him and passing into quiet peace as he chooses to pass away together with it. Omens do not get reincarnated by the Erdtree. Loved and blessed by the crucible of life, they are not loved the same as all the rest of us. But that’s okay. For Morgott, that was okay. He would live nobly and die with honour in its service and that would be enough. He’d spend the last moments of his life bathed in the warm ashes of orange and grey, content that even if he never felt loved by anyone at all after being cursed and shunned all his life, he did his duty as best he could and finally repaid the debt he felt towards the tree that showed him the light for so many long, lonely years.

And then, then it makes me so fucking miserable because then a pair of gentle, scarred and terribly rough hands lift him up from the ground and cradle him with all the tenderness in the world. The roar of a lion salutes his passing, honouring him, mourning him. “It’s been a long time, Morgott.” No anger, no disappointment. Simply, sadness, that he could not see you sooner. Godfrey, his father, returned at last to hold him one final time as he passes away, the rune of death now unbound and finding its way to Morgott after all this time. His last memory would be of being held by his father, loved for all that he is in the ashes of all that he dedicated his life to. His body fades, his entire world upheaved one final time, and an easily missed detail in the cutscene is that Morgott’s body becomes a Grace that points towards you, the player, to guide his father to his next step along the path of Lordship. One final time, Godfrey is guided by the unyielding love he feels for one of his children. Fuck it makes me so miserable. How do write something so tragic and not spend more time with it? How do you leave that beauty hidden in the details like it’s not one of the greatest moments of the entire game? It’s so quiet it’s private, almost. Like we’re not supposed to see that side of either of them, being such an outsider. It’s sundering to think about. Annihilating. I love it with all my heart and I hope more people love Morgott too after reading this.

[concretecultist]

Muscle Memory

summary: “Falling out of love is the saddest thing two people can do to one another. It just means that they have grown too comfortable enough to not make an effort to try,”

pairing: introvert!reader x noah sebastian

warnings: angst, lots of crying, heartbreak

word count: ~5k

lightly inspired by ‘The Greatest’ by Billie Eilish

THIS IS ALL PURE FICTION!

A/N: i don’t know if i want to make this into a part two or leave it open ended! let me know what you think and please be sure to comment and reblog if you enjoyed 🥰

~Berry🫐

——

Things just aren’t what they used to be.

Falling in love was scary enough but knowing the one you love is falling out of love with you is even scarier.

It started with the missed date nights.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I got stuck at the studio with Jolly,”

Then it was the barely there kisses. Each night before bed, you’d give each other three kisses, one for each word in the phrase ‘I love you’

But now you’re lucky if you even get one.

The sex that was once passionate isn’t even there. He’d come home from tour and there was no sexual tension, you’d tease him and he’d brush you off.

You’d cook dinner for the two of you but he’d come home with take out and the guys following in tow without letting you know beforehand, luckily, Folio and Jolly had an appetite so your food never went to waste.

But tonight, tonight was the final straw.

“I love you,” you said to him as you set his plate in front of him. It took him a few seconds, as if he was finding the courage to say the words that at one point, slipped out to easily.

“Love you too,”

And that’s when you knew. You knew that once the ‘I’ was no longer there, it was done. After four years, the love that burned bright, completely untamable, has been reduced to embers and there was no saving it. There was no lighter fluid, no extra wood and no match to bring that fire back to life.

It was gone.

“It’s all just muscle memory at this point… isn’t it?,”

Noah finished chewing before frowning at you.

“What?,”

You could tell he knew what you were referring to but he loved to play clueless. Now is not the time for that though.

“Just… saying ‘love you’? You fell out of love a long time ago but stayed to soften the blow,” you whisper as you pick at your food.

Noah ran a hand over his face and sighed, “Y/N, no. That’s not-,”

“You can be honest with me. I’ll be a little hurt but I already know,” you smile sadly as you glance at him, “I already know,”

“I tried to make it work,” he says lowly, saying the words as if his teeth are barbed wire, as if it’s hurting him to say this, “I still am,”

“When was the last time you touched me?,” you couldn’t even look at him when you asked that question, “All the times I waited for you to want me naked and you just… looked at me as if there was nothing enticing about me,”

“That’s not how it was, at all and you know that, with tour and everything my mind has been all over the place,”

“You still could’ve given me some form of passion, Noah! Not just sex! Flowers, a fucking chocolate bar because it’s my favorite and you passed by it in the store. Something, something to make me believe you actually cared!,”

“I do!,”

“I can’t tell!,” you had to keep yourself from raising your voice, “I just wanted what I gave you. I waited and I waited and I waited. I thought that maybe it was the burnout, that you being home and resting would fix it but it’s been like this for MONTHS and I’m tired of feeling you pulling away so please, just rip off the fucking bandaid already,”

“Y/N please don’t do this. Not now. I said I was trying,” even now, his voice is void of any emotion. How do you claim to try but it can’t even be heard. Why doesn’t he care enough to fight for you harder right now.

Right now he’s throwing weak punches as his defense, he’s barely trying. It’s over.

“I know I probably won’t ever be the one for you,” you tightened your lips, trying to keep yourself from spilling the words but you need to say it, “But you were it for me and I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love again,”

The words rush out like projectile vomit, you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were begging but you figured if this is it, then to get it all out, right?

“Life will never be the same. I won’t be able to listen to certain songs, eat certain foods, watch shows, visit certain cities because they’ll all remind me of you and it’s going to kill me,” you twirl your fork in the mess of noodles on your plate, finding it more intriguing than this conversation, “I was so… desperate to make it better. To be better so that you would still love me but nothing was ever good enough. You may have thought that you were good at hiding it but… I could feel you slipping away from me and it’s crushing me,”

“Baby, please don’t do this,”

“Don’t call me that”

He had some nerve. For months it’s been ‘Y/N this, Y/N that’ but now he wants to pull the “Baby” card? He’s just driving the sword deeper into your chest and he can’t feel remorse. He can’t shed a tear because he’s the cause of all the blood. You sit before him, chest open as you give him your last breath. You deserved to say your piece before he does his finishing move.

“I’m sorry,” he swallowed thickly, following suit in picking at the food on his plate. He never wanted it to come to this. He always thought you were the one but with the rising fame, he was finding it hard to juggle. He started paying more attention to the band than feeding the energy into your relationship. He stopped trying and that’s what started all of this.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. These things happen,” you sniffle and wipe your cheeks, forking some of your dinner in your mouth to hopefully subdue the churning you feel in your gut, but all it did was make you want to regurgitate it all, “I can be out by the end of the week,”

“You don’t have to do that,” he scoffed as if what you were saying was absurd. Did he really expect you to stick around?

“You don’t understand,” you tilt your head, finally looking at him. Eyes skimming over every feature of his, that way you’d never forget it, “You could offer me this place and I still wouldn’t take it. There’s too many memories. It would just eat at me,”

Maybe you’d live out in the woods. Away from society. You didn’t like the outside world much anyway. And with you losing Noah, there was no point. Solitude was your safety blanket, always forced to find solace in your own company, it’s been a long time since it’s come to that, but, right now you just wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you happy,”

“Y/N, please,” Noah sighs, “It’s not like that at all,”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me,” your throat clenches around the words, “Look me in my eyes and tell me that I still make you as happy as the day you met me! That I’m not utterly alone in this world. That it doesn’t feel like an elephant is on your shoulders when you come home all because you don’t have the balls to tell me there’s nothing here anymore,”

“Oh c’mon!! You’re blowing this out of proportion! This can work just give me time,”

“Say it, Noah” fists banging on the table causing the silverware to clank loudly against the glass plates, “Do you or do you not love me? It’s simple!,”

You watched the way his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened.

He couldn’t even say it.

“You don’t love me anymore and you can’t even be a man and say it?!,”

“What good is it gonna do, Y/N?!,” he shouted over you. Frustration filling his eyes as he sends you a look of annoyance.

There it goes.

The confirmation without it being explicit.

This wasn’t your Noah anymore.

“I hate to see the fact that you’re hurting right now, why would I make it worse?! You think I want to be having this conversation? You think I want to see you shattering all while trying to keep it together? I never wanted to hurt you,”

“I just need to hear you say it so I can go about my life,” you whimper, you know it’s going to hurt like hell, but you need to hear it, “I need to hear it so I can cut the cord, Noah,”

The silence from him is heavy. This is the least he could do. If he couldn’t love you the way you needed then so be it, but he could at least do this last thing for you.

“If you ever cared about me then you owe me this much. If this is it then you need to fucking say it so that I can start healing! This is on you! Fucking say i-,”

“I love you but not like I used to,” he cuts you off, words rushing out as if they burned his tongue to speak, wearing a look of shame in his face, shaking his head and for a second.. he kind of looks heartbroken.

“I thought I could get around it, thought that if I just gave myself time that I could regenerate the love I felt, but I don’t know how. I started to feel less guilt when I missed date nights, I stayed late at the studio so that I wouldn’t have to see the sad, longing look in your eyes. I’m not who I was when I got into this. I don’t know who I am and I need time to figure it out,”

The air is stripped from your lungs and while you were begging him to say it, it didn’t burn any less. It felt like you were on display for him, bare and vulnerable and he just kept taking a hot fire poker, marking you, tainting you for anyone else.

“Th-thank you,” you nod, eyes filling with tears, his face becoming distorted, “Thank you, Noah, for your candor,”

“Y/N,”

“Can we just eat in peace?,” you cleared your throat, smiling so sadly, you’ve never been so dejected. You were embarrassed by the tears on your face as you sipped your water.

“I just want to end this night on a good note. So let’s just eat quietly. I’ll do the dishes and go to bed,”

All he could do was nod. Your requests for him were always simple and even with your heart breaking because of him, you wanted one last meal with him, one last peaceful souvenir.

Your dinner was finished in silence and you followed through with what you said. You did the dishes, you cleaned up, but, before you went to bed, you roamed the house for a bit, wanting to take it all in before this place became only a memory.

The living room, where you two had your first kiss. The lamp with the broken lampshade that you two never replaced because it added “character”, you two broke it while watching Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video, trying to learn the dance.

The coffee table that you two fought over the instructions about (you were the one reading them correctly), there’s pictures of you two on the walls but you had to do yourself and him a favor by just taking them down and trashing them.

Which leads you to the kitchen… where he taught you his secret method to dicing potatoes. The place where you two held a cooking contest, with your friends as the audience after watching a few episodes of ‘Beat Bobby Flay’, this was the place where you two sat and got two spoons to eat out of a singular tub of ice cream when you guys couldn’t sleep.

Then the dining room… my God. All the holidays in there, familial dishes displayed on the table as you two hosted parties with your friends. All the laughs, all the card games and fights over if you could put a draw 2 over a draw 4 in UNO (Nicholas says you can’t but… you say otherwise)

Then the bathrooms… you helped him paint them all, running around the house screaming after you flicked paint, getting it in his hair and he sprinted after you trying to get you back. All the decorative seasonal hand towels you gawked over in Home Goods that he only got because you laid it on thick with how “cuuuuuute they would compliment the seasonal shower curtain” that you also talked him into getting.

The porch, where you two would wake up before sunrise, he makes your tea, you make his coffee and swap cups when you two went to sit on the porch swing and just listen to the birds as they wake up. The porch that you two were so excited to decorate for Halloween and Christmas each year.

Then the backyard. Memories flash before your eyes of slip and slide you guys pulled out every summer. The barbecues you had every chance you got. Noah feeling like the cool dad on the grill and you were the sweet mom everyone loved and thanked while passing around your famous freshly squeezed lemonade with Davis always asking what your secret is and your reply always being ‘if I tell ya, I might have to kill ya’ but… now that things were ending… you suppose you could tell him that the secret is agave nectar, a pinch of salt and some sparkling water.

Then you have the basement where you’d have to pull him off the game when it got late but he talked you into playing a round, even though you weren’t the best.

Or the attic, where you guys stored things for the future… a future together that was no longer in the cards for you.

And finally the bedroom.

The first place he told you he loved you. The intimacy that happened here. The funny recollection of Noah bumping his head on the headboard in the middle of having sex and both of you had to take a break because you were laughing too hard. The movie marathons that happened in here. The competitions you two held at who could solve the murder mysteries first (he says you’re tied, but you know you’re winning by at least 3), all the late night talks, the cuddles, the stolen kisses, the tickles.

How?… how do you move on from that? How do you go about your life as if you didn’t devote yourself to this singular person for years? How do you go back to a life without him? And your friends are mutual friends so you know you’ll have to give them up.

Why does it have to be such a lonely road.

This is why falling in love is scary… you don’t get how people start over. It felt like your world was ending, things weren’t always like this. He’d surprised you with your favorite flowers, take you on trips, do karaoke. There was a time where he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Always walked down the baby aisles to look at the clothes, always texted and called when he was away. He brought you out of your shell but now, now you must retreat back in.

What could you have done? You weren’t going to beg him to love you but what was his final straw? As much as you hate this, you can’t hate him, you can’t blame him for falling out of love it happens to people all the time.

But yeah, the woods sound nice. You’ve always told yourself if love never worked out, it would be a secluded life. A garden to tend to, hunting, you wouldn’t have to bump into very many reminders as the reminders in your mind were enough. So, through the tears and aching chest, you get to packing and searching.

You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be okay. But outside of loving him, being alone was muscle memory…

You’ll make do.

———

*A Year Later*

A life in the woods wasn’t so bad. Your fruits, vegetables, and herbs were flourishing, your gourds were thriving. You had some chickens for eggs and for things you didn’t have, you always traveled on foot to the farmers market on the outskirts.

Life out here was simple but it was far from easy just yet.

Your last night at the house, Noah tried to talk it out once more but you’d told him the damage is done.

“Just give me time to get back to who I was,” he’d said.

But you didn’t have time. You didn’t need him to be who he once was because you know there are different versions someone grows to be, meaning you have to learn to love every new edition of them. You put in the effort to love every version of him but unfortunately, his idea of love just didn’t evolve with him, leaving you high and dry.

There were nights where you still called for him in the midst of your cries but then there were days where it was easier to swallow. You’d genuinely secluded yourself. No social media. You had cut off any communication with everyone, they didn’t deserve the cold shoulder and ghosting but they have to understand… you had no place in their circle anymore and it wouldn’t feel right.

If you stayed in contact with them you wouldn’t have healed, not even the slightest bit. You’d always want to ask about him, you would always hope that they would tell you that he misses you. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

There’s times where you still want to call him, see what he’s up to, but instead of sending messages or making the mistake of calling him. You write letters that will never be sent. Telling him of all that you’ve endured over the past year.

So you write and write and write as a form of closure to move on with your life.

It was a light morning. You woke up before sunrise as you always do, cup of earl grey in your hands as you sit in your rocking chair, taking in the view of the squirrels running, the birds chirping and the beetles flying by.

Things still weren’t easy but you were keeping your head above water.

A sweet noise pulls you from your thoughts and you set your mug down on the side table, it was practically empty at this point but you’d make a mental note to get it later.

You make your way through the quiet, cool cabin, hearing the noise louder. Your gown brushing against your calves with each step.

As you make your way into your room, a part of you still longs to see pictures of you and him hanging on the walls as if you were back at the house. Micro-dosing delusion here and there wasn’t too big of a deal. You were still healing after all.

Your body carries you closer to your bed and the white cradle that was attached.

Peaking your head over to see a pair of little hazel eyes looking up at you in adoration.

“Hi, baby girl,” you coo softly, lifting her up and hearing her little grunts as she stretches, “Always an early bird just like your mama, huh?,”

You bounce her in your arms as you make your way to the kitchen to pull a brick of breast milk out of the freezer.

“I had my tea and you’ll have your morning beverage shortly,”

You don��t know why you talked to her as if she could understand you, but you enjoyed it. She was calm when you talked, so you figured she liked it.

You take your time to wrap her up into your chest so you could have her close with free arms as you craft her bottle.

“This would be a lot easier if I had help huh?,” you tighten the straps so she’s snug and secure while you’re both also comfortable, “But, It’s just you and me, Sunshine,”

Noelle was short of three months old so all she really did was shine her eyes at you and smile.

“But we’re gonna be okay!,” you cheer, testing her milk on your wrist, deeming it just the right temperature before taking her to the couch to feed her.

She had Noah’s nose, his eye shape, she even had his Cupid’s bow above her top lip, she had your cheeks, your hair and your frown of concentration. She was perfect and even if you were alone you were going to be the best damn parent you could be.

A part of you knows you should have told him when you found out but… you figured he’d be too busy to take care of a baby. He still had so much time on the road, he wouldn’t give that up.

So… it was just you and Noelle, you two against the world.

She babbles as you adjust your wrap to angle her properly to feed her.

“You are my sunshine,” you sing, smiling so proudly to yourself. You’d never expected to find yourself in this position but she was your reason to keep going. To not give up.

“And no one will take my sunshine away,”

After feeding her and cleaning up the cabin, you decided to head to the farmer’s market for some fresh meat and honey.

Noelle was in her stroller enjoying the smooth ride on the path. It was only a 10 minute walk and it was a great time to look at the pretty leaves and listen to what the wind has to say as it whisks past you.

When you hear all the laughing and chatter is when you know you’re close to the market. You’re a regular so although you’ve come to enjoy the lack of human interaction, you love seeing the smile on the faces of the vendors you shop with.

When you’re off the path, you see how packed it is and get overwhelmed.

“We got this, Sunshine,” you sigh to her, smiling and booping her nose, “Your mama did this to herself really, made herself damn near agoraphobic- oh shoot, shouldn’t cuss in front of you. Don’t store that in your subconscious anywhere!,”

All she could do was smile at you, not understanding a single word you said.

“Meat, oat milk, and fresh honey. That’s it! Should be easy right?,”

You stroll to the milk truck and wave at the elderly woman in the window,

“Hey there, Y/N!,”

“Hi, Ms. Ernie!,” smiling brightly. Ms. Ernie was a sweetheart and always special made oat milk for you. She doesn’t sell it much but she makes sure to keep it on hand just for you.

“How are you and your little Plum?,” she’s always called Noelle that, when you found out you were pregnant with her she was about the size of a plum, and when you met Ms. Ernie she could tell you had a lot on your mind, so, she sat and talked with you and gave you your first gallon of milk on the house, it was a nice glass bottle with her logo on it that you now use as a vase for flowers.

“Can’t complain! She’s growing up so fast!,”

“It’s my milks doing!,” she pointed and winked, “It’s making mama strong which is making her strong,”

“You got me there. I gotta admit it,” you joked with her. It was always like this. She was like a grandma to you and the conversations were always wholesome.

After purchasing your milk she throws in a small container.

“I’m making yogurt now! It’s got that oat milk ya like so let me know what ya think! And don’t be a stranger, come into town and have some dinner sometime,”

You verbalized how grateful you were for her kindness and took her up on her offer. It did get a little overwhelming trying to cook dinner and take care of an infant all on your own while also tending to a garden and a chicken coop.

You bid your goodbyes and make your way to the local honey tent.

“Hey, Y/N!,” a young man waved

“Hi, Reid!,”

“And hello little miss sunshine!,” he peaked his head around the stroller, as soon as your daughter sees him she squeals and kicks her feet, she loves Reid. He tickles her and chuckles before standing up and waving his hand to his table.

“What are we having today? We’ve got some new flavors; Orange Blossom, Blueberry Blossom, Lavender- we even got them in sticks so you can try before you buy,” he trails off.

“Can I get my normal wildflower aaaand I’ll try the orange blossom,” you point the sample sized container.

Reid bags everything up nicely for you and you watch him throw a few of the new flavor sticks in the bag before you pay.

“Enjoy, Y/N!,”

Once you give your goodbyes to Reid, you’re on your way to the next truck. Phyllis and her husband, Dan, greet you just as they always do and you order your meats and cuts the way you like them and are all set to head back home. You’re almost to the path when you realize there’s one more thing you needed.

“Shoot, Sunshine. I need bread!,” You turn yourself around to see where the bread truck is and bump into an unsuspecting soul. Neither of you paying attention.

“Oh goodness! I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, helping him pick up his bag of goods.

“Y/N?,”

You stop what you’re doing. You recognize that voice anywhere. After years of being near it and talking with him, it was unmistakable. You slowly raise your head to make eye contact with him.

“M-Matt?,” you hand him his fallen apple and step in front of your stroller, obscuring his view of Noelle.

“What are you- where have you been? We’ve been worried sick,”

“I can’t talk to you,” You reply with a shaky tone, “I can’t handle it right now. Just act like you never saw me,”

He frowns at your words, disheartened at how you could seem so scared of him. Not physically but mentally, emotionally even. You were doing so well and now… here is a physical reminder of your past life.

Birthing Noelle was different because while she did have features of her father, she was a reminder of the future and what is to come but seeing Matt right now pushed you all the way back to where you were emotionally a year ago.

He notices the stroller behind you but before he can get a word out, you’re cutting him off.

“No,” you grit through your teeth, “No! Don’t even,” you point at him

“Does he know?,”

“I don’t owe any of you anything,”

“She looks just like him, Y/N”

“Stop it!,” you hold your hand up to quiet him, “I have been through hell and back trying to heal. I don’t need this right now. Go about your day, you didn’t see me, you didn’t see anything!,”

“He deserves to know,”

“I can’t let him back in my life. If he finds out, he will be around and I won’t get better! He’ll take her away from me,”

“It’s not about you or him. If he has a baby, he deserves to know and she deserves a dad. He wouldn’t take her from you, he wouldn’t do that,”

“I can’t take that chance, Matt. He broke up with me, he fell out of love because tour and the fame was too much. How do you expect him to juggle being a father when he couldn’t even juggle being a boyfriend! If you tell him and he comes after me, I will NEVER forgive you!,”

“What’s going on?,” you turn to your left and see Reid coming to stand between you and Matt, “Is he bothering you?,”

“We’re friends,” Matt defends himself. This is getting a lot bigger than what you needed right now.

“Yeah? Well it doesn’t seem that way. So if you could, please leave. She looks uncomfortable,”

“Y/N, please,” he begged. He hadn’t seen nor heard from you in over a year, all of you were a family and it’s been hard to process for all of them how you were there one day then gone without a trace.

“You should go, Matt,” you hide behind Reid and wait until he leaves. He stood there waiting to see if you’d change your mind but when you didn’t, he got the hint and went on his way.

“I’ll wait till he’s gone then I’ll have Morgan watch the tent, I’ll walk you home,”

“Thank you,” your voice was barely above a whisper, you wipe your tears and you turn around to crouch down in front of Noelle, making sure she’s okay, she’s half asleep, usually you’re back at the cabin by now to put her down for a nap but this little scuffle pushed it back.

“Is there anything you need before we leave? I saw you turn back around like you forgot something,”

“I… I needed bread,”

“What kind?,”

“Pumpernickel and sourdough,”

“I’ll be right back,”

“Reid, you don’t have to,”

“I got it,” he rests a hand on your shoulders to calm you down. A lot happen just now, it made sense why your nerves would be all over the place

You decided not to protest as he was already on his way over to the bread truck. You look back to Noelle and see she’s finally out like a light just that quick.

Matt’s words began echoing in your mind as you stare at her. Why couldn’t today have just been like any other day? What are the fucking odds that he ends up at this market in particular? You know he loves them but there’s one closer to the city that’s his favorite. Why’d he have to come out to the countryside?

Was this a coincidence or was it somehow planned? You know for sure he’s going to tell Noah, that’s his best friend and you don’t know how to handle any of it. They don’t know where you live but now you’re worried they’ll come out here looking for you, which means you’ll have to ask Reid to do a weekly pick up and drop off. You know he won’t mind but you hate asking for help.

He deserves to know

It’s like tinnitus now. Just an irritating ringing in your ears that won’t go away.

But as you stare at your daughter, you realize she was an embodiment of the bright rays that peaked through the cloud that rained over your head for months. She was your sunshine.

And no one would take your sunshine away.

——————

——————

Let me know if you want a part two or if I should leave it open ended like this? 👀

Be sure to comment and reblog! Much love!

tags: @lma1986

[mockerycrow]

super big congratulations on 4k!! you deserve it <3

i was wondering if you could write a gn! reader x price with the prompt "Hey, it's okay, I got you. You're alright, you're okay." it doesn't matter if it's platonic or romantic; whatever feels best for you!!

Thank you so much and congratulations!

YOU’RE ALIVE (Price x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; Car accident, implied situationship w/ Price, moderate injuries, flashbacks, near panic attack, open ending.]

YOU DON’T REMEMBER the events that lead up to you in a hospital bed, a cast fitted around your arm, a brace on your knee, a bandage around your skull, and only God knows how many stitches and bandages in random assortments. You can’t forget the numeral wires and tubes attached to you, too. Oh, and the ear-bleeding beeping. John sits next to you in a chair—he’s your… friend, of sorts. You aren’t really sure what to call what you two have going on.

You look at him, slumped in the visitors chair he’s pulled up beside your bed, his arms crossed and his legs spread; his neck is bent at an awkward angle and you know it’s going to ache whenever he awakens. John looks quite tired—he’s looked tired and stressed the entire time he’s been in the hospital room with you. Stressing over you, like a worried hu—…. you shouldn’t think about that. Suddenly the ceiling looks far more appealing to stare at, rather than the beautiful gentleman who is willingly staying at your bedside, despite your exhausted attempts to have him get some proper rest.

You glance over at him—envious of how he’s able to sleep right now. Hm. Honestly, you know John would be awake with you if he had the energy. The only reason why you’re awake is your stitches itch, and the only reason why he’s asleep is because you did not wake up for four days after you passed out at the scene of a car accident you were apparently in; an accident you don’t remember too well. You barely even remember what you had for breakfast that morning; cereal of some kind, maybe? Eggs? You don’t know.

“You were on the way to work, love.” You remember John telling you. You remember the tense expression, the firmness of his eyebrows. The frown of his lip, the way he amusingly resembled a quokka in the moment. You were also apparently on the phone with John at the same time, so whatever happened, he heard all of it. The details from your own memory are fuzzy—your doctors concluded your amnesia is temporary, so they gave you the choice of remembering it yourself or having them tell you. You opted in for the first option.

It was coming back to you in bits and pieces. Small moments where you feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, you think you hear glass shattering in the distance; your heart begins to race at different moments. You aren’t sure what to make of it—until now.

“I’m not excited for this meeting.” You whined, your eyes were glued to the road. Your phone is bluetooth connected to your car’s system so you can talk with John and have both of your hands on the wheel. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, honey. Surely it’s just about budgets like last month.” John hums through the speakers of your car. You sigh, turning on your windshield wipers as it’s pouring out, obscuring your vision a bit.

“It’s raining pretty hard, how do the roads look?” He asks, a bit of rustling coming from John’s end. He’s probably reading a book or looking out from the curtains. “I’m driving slower than normal, visibility isn’t the greatest..” You admit, letting out a breath, slowing the car down once again. “..I was sliding a bit, thinking it’s time I get some new wheels.” John hums in agreement. “Definitely. Please be safe, love.” You chuckled glancing around the road, furrowing your eyebrows when the double yellow line seems to fade. “I’m trying my best, Jo—“

You’re suddenly being jostled around violently after a big impact from your front, your seatbelt digging into your skin as something launches your car off to the side. “SHIT—“ You scream, attempting to stop the car, but the rain causes you to slide across the road. Something hits you from the back and you feel you physically feel yourself lift in your seat—and then you’re fading in and out. You wake up with wetness against your face, pain in your ribs, your arm, your skull—

You let out a choked sob as there’s ringing in your ears and your eyes refuse to focus—but you can tell you’re upside down. You see a pair of legs sprinting towards you through your broken side window, and you aren’t really register what’s happening. You blink and the person is try to pry the door open frantically. You still don’t hear them; it’s almost like a silent movie.

The door gives, the flipped car jostling from the force used to pry it open. You blink and fuck—It’s John. His eyes are wide and his jaw is tense, shaky hands. He’s grabbing the sides of your head, forcing you to keep your head still—his lips are moving but you can’t hear him. You sob and you try to reach up to touch him, and he lets you. Your eyes look at your own hand as it’s caked in your own blood, causing you to inhale shakily. This isn’t happening. The pain starts sitting you harder, a pulsing in the side of your head.

“Hey—“ John’s voice suddenly cuts through and you blink, and you’re back in the hospital room. You’re breathing hard and fast, causing your chest to ache more than it already does. His hands are cupping your cheeks like he was in the flipped car, and you let out a panicked sob; your machines make loud beeping noises in retaliation. “Hey, it’s okay, I got you. You’re alright, you’re okay..” John quickly murmurs, his thumbs gently wiping your tears away. “Focus on my voice, okay? You’re alright. You’re in the hospital, love.”

You sniffle and nod, shakily inhaling once again as you try to calm your panicked lungs and struggling heart, your good hand coming up and gently grasping his wrist. “I-I was flipped over—“ You choke out, which John quickly meets with soft shushing and a kiss between your eyebrows. “I know, honey. I know. I got you, you’re safe now.” You nod, choking out another whimper as you lean into his touch—because John’s right. He has you; you’re safe, he’s the one who got to you first. You’re sure you’ll want to ask him how he found you so fast later, but all you want to do right now and feel him and hear him. Because you’re alive.

[azewritessillystuff]

Illusion in shattered glass 

An: I promise I’m working on reqs but this was already in my drafts so 💙 I need more Mr. Reca content so I decided to make some! He’s a character with alot of potential 🫶🏼

A dream is just a nightmare you do not want to wake up from.

Inspiration: I can’t find the post anymore but there was a post about someone talking about Mr. Reca erasing his darling’s memories every time he confesses that to try to achieve perfection, if you find it plz tell me and I can add the link 💙 

An: I didn’t reread or review it so it might suck, but I did add effort. First few chapter are skip-able ish if your impatient. 

Summary: A picture perfect love story directed by Penacony’s greatest director.

Except it isn’t perfect.

You don’t remember any bit of this so-called ‘story’.

Because you-

—CUT!—

TAKE ONE 

“I love you, y/n.”

     “!?-Mr. Reca-I-do too…”

    Directors notes: Disapproved! Adding a title in the acceptance just makes there seem to be a distance or unfamiliarity!

TAKE TWO

“Ah. Y/n. I do adore you.”

         “-Reca…? In a platonic or a romantical way…?”

Director’s notes: Disapproved! The way in which y/n still must ask the intent of those words making them seem dense whilst they have much more intelligence then most actors.

TAKE THREE

“Y/n. Will you marry me?”

       “Gasp. I-ofcourse, Reca…!”

Directors notes: Mhmm…getting better! But it should be perfect! Therefore disapproved!

TAKE FOUR

Disapproved!

TAKE FIVE

Disapproved!

TAKE SIX

Disapproved!

TAKE SEVEN

——

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT

————1—————

Mr. Reca slammed his fist on the table as he re-watched the records for the nth time. “Ugh. Disapproved…disapproved…Y/n deserves only perfection, not this dogwash!” He cried, cupping his face between his hands in frustration, mumbling under his breath. “No…no…no….” He murmured, why was this so hard? He was the greatest director in the world! Why couldn’t he properly direct his own love story,..?

Yes, yes, he had tried all the cliché proposals and confessions, flowers, letters, even using a cat to carry on his letter. So what was missing in his grand vision of this ‘perfect confession’!?

———2———

{{This chapter is to give depth to the reader and extra interactions. Skip it you want though somethings may be a bit confusing 💕}}

“What I think of Mr. Reca…?” You echoed, tilting your head in confusion. This was…not what you had expected your friends to ask you during your truth or dare game. “Yeah! I heard you rejected him before!” They gasped excitedly, one of them bumping your shoulder and giggling, covering their mouth. “No. I never did that. He’s just my boss. Those are just rumors.” You clarify, shaking you head with a shy smile. You’d never reject him. Well, you’d never reject him if he asked! But that was just most likely your brain too full of those telenova romance movies you binge watched over the weekend. You looked down to your hands and shook your head lightly, trying to wipe those thoughts from your brain. “Anytyywwwaaayy…. y/n!” Your friend called, pointing at you, already seemingly forgetting their previous question, “You didn’t answer the last question, so you better answer this one!” They chirped in their usual bubbly manner, happily shaking your shoulder like a needy child. Oh no. They had a mischevious glimmer in their eyes. “Tell the truth…why do you only hang out with us in the dreamscape!?” They demanded, huffing while crossing their arms dramatically. Your pulse unknowingly quickened, but your expression was still positive. “I just am too busy outside of the dreamscape. Nothing secretive. Now….F/N!” You smile and point at your other friend in the same matter as the latter, grinning, “Truth or dare?”

———3———

Mr. Reca sat on his desk, Assistant Director across his lap as he went through script after script after proposal after proposal. How boring. It would be a hundred times more interesting to be spending these wasted hours with you. But oh well. Duty called, much to his chagrin. What an artistic block. Almost all of the scripts these days lacked individuality and creativity.

All but lacking stories with a totally predictable ending, boring characters and poorly suggested visuals. The director eventually ran his patience through, crumpling the paper in his hands and throwing it across the room in absolute irritation.

“Mr. Reca…? Are you alright?” You called, knocking on the door after you had heard his exasperated grunts. “Oh, y/n! Please, please, come in if you wish! of course I am alright!” He called, his mood already being lifted by your prescence and concern. As soon as you opened the door he ushered you in and had you seated on the couch in the far corner of the messy room in a matter of seconds. You glanced across at him akwardly, only given a few moments to settle where you sat before Mr. Reca began talking endlessly about the films he was working on, the potential-less stories and manuscripts he was forced to read and a lot of his day. In truth, most of it went over your head, merely keeping up your part of the conversation with the bare minimum occasionally nodding and throwing out “Mhmm”’s “Er-yes…” and “Totally.”

———4———

“Y/n. How do you feel today?” Mr. Reca smiled, drapping his jacket across your shoulders. Even though the weather in the dreamscape was hardly cold, today felt a bit different. “A bit…cold…” You offer, snuggling into his warm jacket and hunching slightly. You looked up to see Mr. Reca with a sad smile, which surprised you. “Is…something wrong?” You asked, looking at him with a concerned look. Mr. Reca never usually showed sadness, but now his expression also held something you never thought was possible for him.

He looked…in grief?

Before you could open your mouth to ask him again, Mr. Reca looked you straight in the eye, his hands clasping together nervously, “Y/n…I love you.”

Your brain could hardly comprehend that. You stared at him for a while, wide eyed and your mouth half open when you finally remembered to swallow. You looked down and turned to him with a joyful smile, “I do too, Reca.” Mr. Reca returned your smile, though it still seemed like he was thinking of something else. You put a hand carefully on his shoulder and hesitantly kissed his forehead. “Is there…something wrong?” 

You were met with some silence, which seemed incredibly heavy, not something you would expect the atmosphere of a confession to be like. You knew what was wrong. You did. 

But you didn’t remember. 

And you can’t remember why.

“Wrong? No. We are actually following the ‘right’” Mr. Reca finally replied, shaking his head whilst forcing a smile. He pulled you into an unexpected embrace, burying his head into the crook of your neck as his shoulders seemed to sag. “And in the will of fate we can never be together.” 

You stared at him, though you weren’t confused. Yes, because this happened before.

Eight hundred and eighty eight times, to be exact.

This was what the aeons had written in both your destinies.

“Yes…yes…”

“Because you never existed in the first place.”

———5———

Mr. Reca was now hugging his empty jacket, devoid of the warmth it used to hold. 

And he cried.

It had never gotten easier to accept every time that you were a mere memory zone meme.

A fragment of his consciousness and the embodiment of his wish.

Salty tears fell one after the other in a bitter waterfall as Mr. Reca bit his lip, trying to regain his composure as his breath hitched and more tears spilled.

It was an ironic, almost funny thing

The missing piece in his ‘perfect confession’ had always been you.

———

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED EIGHTY NINE

———

[namicakes]

The Alchemy

“Where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

Featuring:Timeskip!Kageyama Tobio x F!Reader

Note:( I've seen and watched so many olympic videos on tiktok where the players won and they straight up runs to their partner to hug them and that shii makes me bawl my eyes out cuz it's so cuteeee! specially when the music was The Alchemy by taylor swift)

The energy in the stadium crackles, vibrating through every row, and yet, Tobio's heart thunders louder than the cheers. He stands with his team on the court, wiping sweat from his brow, feeling every inch of exhaustion seep into his bones. This isn’t just a game. It’s the final match of the season, a showdown for the national championship. Everything he’s trained for, sacrificed for, poured his soul into, has come down to this night. His gaze flickers to the stands, searching, until he finds her.

You sat there, eyes wide and glistening, Your hands clasped tight with anticipation. You're wearing his jersey jacket, one he’d tossed over your shoulders on a chilly night months ago, and you're holding it like armor. Tobio’s heartbeat steadies as he watches you. You're always been his anchor, his constant, the one who’s seen him at his worst and still smiles as if he’s already won. The alchemy of your presence fills him with a strength beyond his own.

The referee’s whistle pierces the air, jolting him back into the moment. His coach calls for a timeout, gathering the team around for a final huddle. The score is tied. One last point to win it all.

“Focus, Kageyama,” his teammate whispers, clapping him on the back. Tobio nods, but his gaze drifts to the stands once more. You catched his eyes and mouths the words, “You’ve got this.” Your face is alight with unwavering belief, and he can feel the fire in his own heart catch and blaze hotter than ever.

As he takes his position on the court, he remembers all those late nights, when exhaustion clung to him like a second skin, and You would hold his hands, Your voice soft yet firm, whispering that his dreams mattered. The memory swells within him, fueling his resolve. Tonight, he wants to prove you right—to show you that your faith wasn’t misplaced.

The ball is tossed high, and he readies himself, every muscle tense, every sense alert. reading the play before it unfolds. His feet hit the floor in time with the beat of his heart, his body moving in practiced precision. When he leaps, he knows it’s perfect.

“Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads

Beer sticking to the floor”

His hand meets the ball, sending it soaring over the net with crushing force. The opposing team scrambles, their libero diving, but it’s too late. The ball slams into the floor on their side, sealing the game, sealing the championship.

“Cheers chanted, cause they said”

For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. And then, the crowd erupts. Tobio’s teammates rush toward him, pulling him into a blur of hugs and cheers, pounding his back, shouting his name. But his eyes search the crowd, heart racing, looking for the one person who made all of this possible.

“There was no chance, trying to be

The greatest in the league”

There—through the crowd, pushing her way to the edge of the stands, You watch him, Your hands covering your mouth, tears streaming down your face as you beam. You catches his eye and holds it, and the world around him fades.

“Where's the trophy?

He just comes running over to me”

Without thinking, he breaks away from his teammates, ignoring their shouts of celebration. The court, the noise, the lights—all of it falls away as he sprints across the polished floor, his eyes locked on you. It’s like something magnetic, an unstoppable pull drawing him to you.

As he reaches the edge of the stands, You jumped down, and in one fluid motion, he scoops you up, pulling you into his arms. You cling to him, laughter bubbling up from your lips, mingling with his. You were boyh lost in your own world, a moment suspended in time, untouched by everything around them.

“You did it, Tobio!” you cried, voice filled with pride and joy.

“We did it,” he corrects, his voice hoarse with emotion. He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Every night, every practice—when I thought I couldn’t push any harder, you were there. You made this possible.”

Your smile softens, and you cups his face in your hands, pressing your forehead against his. “Tobio, you were always strong enough. I just wanted you to see that.”

He kisses you then, a kiss filled with gratitude, with the words he’s never quite known how to say. And in that kiss, in your touch, he feels it—alchemy. The magic of two hearts turning something raw, something ordinary, into something golden. A transformation that goes beyond words, beyond mere wins and losses.

When you both pull apart, the stadium is still roaring, and his team is still celebrating around them. But this moment, this embrace, feels like it belongs to only them.

You leaned back, beaming, voice filled with laughter and tears. “Go celebrate with your team, champion.” You nudged him, but your hands stay resting on his shoulders, as if reluctant to let go.

“Not without you.” He takes your hand, guiding you onto the court beside him. You tried to protest, but his grip is firm, unwavering, and he gives you a look that tells you everything. He wants you there, beside him , under the lights, sharing in the victory you helped him achieve.

The team gathers around them, laughing and cheering, and You were swept up in their embrace. Tobio watches you, his heart swelling with pride—not just for the victory, but for having someone who believed in him enough to make him believe in himself.

As they stand there together, surrounded by the noise, the lights, the glory of the moment, Tobio realizes that this—the love, the faith, the strength you both share—is the true alchemy. The power that turned a dream into reality, that forged a connection deeper than any victory, and that will carry them through whatever comes next.

In the end, the championship was just the beginning. The real victory was what you both had created together—the alchemy of two souls, forever bound in love and belief.

[gothsuguru]

Hello! You can totally ignore if this isn’t up your alley but you could write something about suguru watching reader from afar while they grieve him for leaving? Either it’s super sad or twisted cause he feels happy that you love him enough to grieve him

I also could send in nsfw requests if you want those too

the choiceless grief that drove him underground

contents: f!reader, mentions of guilt, stalking, & mass murder. both characters express grief in different ways. bit of callous/twisted suguru, a nod to his dacryphilia as well. mainly angsty but i guess at the core of it… it’s sweet? w.c: ~ 1.4k

a/n: rem, i owe you my life & then some! :’) thank you SO much for the concept idea! <3 i love delving into the twisted/not-so pretty parts of suguru so i hope you enjoy! :D

the premise of the situation is quite… haunting.

to mourn a friend, (‘a lover’ — his voice gently admonishes from the back of your mind), who isn’t dead.

he still roams around the aether — akin to a ghost. and here you are, grieving a corporeal phantom of your past.

both you and suguru have a penchant for nostalgia, him moreso than you. it’s why he’s here now at the foothills of mount mushiro, camouflaging himself into the shadows of the night, depleting his own cursed energy so there’s not a single trace of him left. he stands there in a vantage point hidden behind massive japanese oak trees, a lonely specter peering wistfully at his dearly beloved.

ex-beloved, rather, he should say.

it was of his own volition anyways.

your lack of cursed energy leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he remembers why he despises you so. the healed x-shaped scar on his chest burns and he wants to give you a matching one on your heart, as a reminder. you’re worse than a curse, he forces himself to seethe. heavenly restriction, huh? nothing heavenly about you…

a sick part of suguru wants to finally see you shatter — to watch someone as powerful as you break down and wail with such unbridled anguish, to hear your sorrowful screams pierce through the night sky like a gunshot wound to the head. something about imagining the way your tears would stick to your lashes makes his heart beat unbearably fast from within his ribcage. from sadness or intrigue, he doesn’t quite know…

he just selfishly craves to be the cause of it. to have you drown in tears of melancholy & be sundered by it like a tsunami of eerie desolation — to be plagued with devotion and corruption. just like him.

he wants you to get on your hands and knees and prostrate yourself to him — to lower yourself at his feet.

beneath him.

where you should be.

to apologize for being you. to apologize for coming into his life. to apologize for making him fall in love. to apologize for being his greatest curse. his greatest regret.

(regret for loving you or regret for leaving you… he’s not sure, yet. he’ll decide when he’s of more sound mind.)

yet all he gets is… just you… sitting there. expressionless.

suguru huffs quietly, his low-lidded gaze is heavy with fatigue and slight boredom. his soft exhales turn into smoky vapor in front of him, evaporating within seconds. he tediously redirects his amber irises back at you, observing you like a science experiment, scrutinizing your every move… only if you had done something, of course.

he notes that your stony face betrays no emotions, your body is rigid as if in living rigor-mortis. he surmises that the only thing that differentiates you from the zen statues around you is the gentle wisps of your hair across your face courtesy of the cold wind, crisp due to the night air.

before he realizes it, suguru’s fingers involuntarily twitch.

muscle memory.

(the same fingers have brushed against the plush of your cheek, caressed your hair & gently moved the strands away from your face. soft finger-pads outlined your lips gently, the shape of your cupid’s bow committed to memory. suguru figured the name was quite apt… he found himself wholly enraptured & in love.

hit by eros’ arrow the very moment he laid eyes on you — his lighthouse. his demise.)

a slight sniffle breaks suguru out of his reverie. he snaps his head back up at you, pierced brows furrowed and bright ochre eyes wide. he ignores the pang in his chest, his shock overtaking his senses leaving him paralyzed.

are you…?

your reddened eyes flit towards the foliage where suguru hides behind, and you softly rasp out a tired sigh. your lack of words are far more frigid than the midnight air, causing an ice cold shiver to run through suguru’s spine.

forcing the constriction in his throat back down, he exhales shakily, in a state of utter shock.

right.

heightened senses. superhuman physical capabilities. you always knew where suguru was before he ever knew where you were. a relationship of mutual indulgence — you pretend you don’t see him, and he pretends that you don’t know where he is at all times. as if you haven’t memorized his scent, his mannerisms, his soul. as if you couldn’t recognize him through physical vibrations alone.

just pretend you don’t see me now… indulge me one last time… please.

muscle memory.

you look away.

you focus your gaze towards the skyline of bountiful forest green trees, impeccable eyesight zeroing in on a tree with a heart carved around both his and your initials upon the espresso bark. the same tree where you had rested your head on suguru’s lap while he read his favorite books to you. the same tree where you had both shared your first kiss. the same tree where you had found out from a dear friend that suguru had murdered a whole village — some bullshit about him wanting to create a world with no curses. no non-sorcerers. no you.

you once playfully joked to suguru that you loved him more than he loved you. you remember the way his fists clenched at his sides, the furrow in his brow coupled with the immediate narrowing of his eyes, along with the slight snarl in his lip and voice pierced your soul as he resolutely scolded you — no one could ever love as deeply, as passionately, as genuinely as he loves you.

loved, rather, you should say.

what a fuckin’ liar.

…

in a blink of an eye, you disappear.

like a ghost.

you leave suguru alone to his own futile devices. he figures it’s fair, to indulge you one last time too, allowing you the ‘last laugh’, though he knows there’s no victors in this sick game that’s being played. he’s walked away from you before, it’s only fitting you do the same to him now.

his feet drag him to where you were hunched over before, his brain unable to catch up to what his body is doing. something glints in the moonlight, there in your stead, atop the plush green grass.

he crouches down, picking up the small photograph. the faded polaroid feels far heavier in his hand than he would think. a delicious shiver runs down suguru’s spine when he realizes his fingertips are touching where yours have touched. the bitterness that found its way in his mouth in the beginning washes away, leaving only a sickly sweet flavor that surrounds his mouth like pillowy cotton candy.

it’s one he hasn’t seen. you must’ve kept this with you all this time, he muses.

a photo, a candid, of him.

the pink sakura petals offered up a beautiful backdrop after a mission you two took in kyoto. back then, his smile was genuine & unbelievably wide — pearly whites on display, his pierced cherry red lips matched the camellia red blush that painted his cheeks — no doubt from your flirtatious comments about his beauty. his eyes were squinted, a photo you took of him while mid-laugh. he pushed his bangs aside while speaking to you, wanting to give you his full attention. the promise ring on his finger glinted in the sunlight along with the silver hairpin you gifted him moments before you took the photo, its amethyst gem dangling above his bun. a beacon of light.

a sign of devotion, of unending love. a promise.

suguru’s heart feels a bit heavier than he would like it to, yet the soft smile that graces his features is the most genuine form of adoration he’s exhibited since his defection. inundated with grief, you still held on to him.

an anchor of your past. a plague of your present. a welcoming calamity of your future.

“you still love me too, huh?” he softly whispers into the night, a sad smile on his face.

he gazes up at the moon. it looks quite beautiful tonight. he silently hopes you’re staring at it too.

thinking of him the same way he’s thinking of you.

[writingwithfolklore]

Surviving Death

                I am a sucker for revival after character death—as long as it’s done well. Maybe in the future we’ll do a separate post on killing characters, but what I’ll say about it now is that revival can be a fantastic plot twist or narrative turn as long as both it and the death has proper meaning.

                While you may want to revive a character for a happy ending--they wake up and not only is the world saved but everyone made it out alive! This can also sometimes feel a bit cheap. What was the point of suffering the death if they were just to get to come back easy-peasy? Consider, would End Game have been as revered if Tony got to survive his sacrifice?

                So here’s some ways to bring a character back to life without losing the meaning of their death:

They are forever changed from the experience

A classic “came back wrong”, one of my favourite things in fiction. You get to choose to the extent they are wrong. Maybe the ‘wrong’ isn’t some supernatural influence, but rather just a result of the experience of dying.

                They saw something about the afterlife, they’ve lost memories, they’ve gained new memories about a past or a future or alternate timeline, they realize how much they mean to certain people, they discover just how little they meant to others, etc. etc.

                Their death (and subsequent revival) should quite literally change the course of their life. That’s not something one could go through lightly. Whether it gives them trauma, new perspectives, or a complete shift in personality/morals, they definitely didn’t come back how they left.

2. Sacrifice for a Sacrifice

Also a pretty common trope—you don’t get to gain something unless you lose something. To bring them back, someone else has to take their place, or something important is lost. Maybe to trade for their companion back, the main character loses the greatest asset to their quest. Maybe they have to choose between two people, and the two who live have to live with that fact.

                I read a book once where the main character had to choose between his love interest and his brother in a Saw-like trap. He chooses his brother, and the villain kills him anyway. Now he must continue his quest with his love interest, who knows he didn’t choose her. It was tragic, and completely changed their dynamic.

3. They’re only half back

They come back, but only some of the way. Maybe they are cursed to die again in a year. They’re tied to one place and will disappear if they leave it. They’re a ghost, or otherwise not fully present. They exist only in relation to certain objects or people. Their communication is lost, or certain other abilities they used to have.

                They came back, but only some of them—the rest is lost to the beyond.

Most importantly to reviving characters is the permanent consequences. Death is no easy thing to overcome, and whatever the circumstances are--it should remain with them forever.

                What are some other ways to revive characters?