#something about this makes sense to me. i am thinking about it very hard. but i have no idea if it will mean anything to anyone else

[satellite-evans]

closure

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: you don't need Carlos' closure.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

This my third fic for the folkmore series, and it is with none other than Carlos Sainz! This is my first time writing for him so I was quite nervous, please tell me what you think!

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It arrives in your inbox at 2:17 AM, the timestamp almost mocking the stillness of the night. The world outside is quiet, the kind of silence that fills your room with its weight, pressing against your ribs as if the very air knows what’s coming.

The email subject line is simple.

Just wanted you to know.

For a moment, you just stare at it. The words are innocuous, almost casual, but your heart knows better. You’ve seen that phrase before—at least in the way it echoed in your mind, in the way you tried to convince yourself you’d be fine without any more explanations.

And for some reason, you already know what it’s about. You don’t need to open it to feel the heavy, familiar knot tightening in your stomach. The ache in your chest that had dulled over time, the one you had worked so hard to ignore, throbs with renewed intensity, as if it’s alive and remembering the shape of old wounds. It’s as though your body recognizes him before your mind even does, and it reacts accordingly—a reflex you can’t outrun.

Your hands tremble slightly, the familiar sensation of fear and longing mixing in your veins, but you can't bring yourself to look away. The old ache becomes a weight in your throat, too, and for a moment, you're almost paralyzed by the gravity of it. You know this isn’t just a message. This is a door opening, an invitation to face something you buried deep. But you click on it anyway, drawn in by something you can’t explain, a part of you still hoping that maybe—just maybe—this will be the thing that makes it all make sense.

I just wanted you to know I hope you're doing well. I know things ended messy between us, and I hate that. I really do. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I did.

I’m sorry for how I left. For not saying enough. For saying too much. For everything in between.

I hope you’re happy. I really do.

- Carlos.

The words stare back at you, flat on the screen, sterile and detached. They sit there like a sentence of finality, as if they’re not even meant for you, but for someone who doesn’t carry the weight of your history with him. It’s just an email—another digital scrap of text sent into the void of the night. But after everything, after all that’s passed, this is what he gives you? Does he think that you’re just a situation that needs to be handled? A string of hollow words with no breath behind them, no warmth, nothing that even remotely resembles the person you once knew. No, not even that. The person you thought you knew.

It was almost ironic how the shape of his name still spelled out pain. Every letter, every syllable, carried a weight that dug deep, as if each time you thought of him, the wound reopened. It was strange, how someone you once loved could still manage to hurt you, even in their absence. Everything about him—his words, his actions, even his silence—had caused so much damage that it was honestly a little concerning.

You hated him. No, despised him. The anger simmered under your skin like a constant burn, always just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. The audacity he had, the way he thought he could just walk away, leaving destruction in his wake—it was almost unbelievable. He was wrong in so many ways the day he broke up with you. The way it all went down, how he acted like it was the easiest thing in the world, how he twisted every word you’d said into something it wasn’t—it was wrong, all of it. And by the looks of it, he probably knew by now. He had to. The way time had passed, the way people talked, the way you’d changed—he had to know the damage he’d done.

Your mind replays the last time you saw him. You can still picture it so vividly—the way he had stood in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over his chest like a shield, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t read. He looked smaller somehow, the exhaustion wearing him down, hanging off of him like a second skin, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet he couldn't find it in himself to care about you anymore. The lines in his face were deeper, like time had been more unforgiving to him than you ever realized. The way his jaw clenched so tightly when you had begged him to just talk to you, that desperate plea falling from your lips like a prayer, but he wouldn’t listen. His silence had cut deeper than anything he could have said. The way he hadn’t looked back when he walked away. Not once. Not a single glance. Like you didn’t exist. That was when you realized he had put a distance between you two ages ago that you were finally seeing—a sea you were too tired to cross.

The door had clicked shut behind him with a finality that shattered you into pieces you weren’t sure you could ever put back together. That sound—the click of the lock—wasn’t just the end of a visit, but the end of everything. The end of any future you thought you’d have together. You didn’t just lose him in that moment. You lost the life you’d built around him. And you’ve been trying to rebuild ever since.

And now, months later, this. This email. A quiet, late-night message, sterile in its simplicity, like he was trying to offer a neat little bow to wrap up the wreckage he left behind. But there’s no ribbon to tie, no neatness to this. What he gave you wasn’t closure—it was a reminder that, for all his talk of wanting to make amends, he’s still incapable of meeting you where you need him.

You slam your laptop shut, too quickly, too harshly, as if the words might physically reach out and strangle you if you don’t. For a moment, your fingers linger on the lid, shaking, the intensity of your pulse drowning out the quiet hum of the city outside. The night has become suffocating, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the email, or because you’re finally confronting what you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The pain hasn’t gone anywhere, and neither has the ache. It sits with you like an old friend, one you can’t seem to shake.

It’s almost laughable, really. You can’t help but chuckle bitterly to yourself as you stare at the screen. He thinks he’s giving you closure. That this carefully constructed email, this rehearsed apology, is supposed to fix something, to heal the rift that’s been eating away at you for months. That it will somehow mend the fractures in your heart as if it’s something that can be neatly patched up with a few well-chosen words. But the truth is, it doesn’t even come close. No, this isn’t closure. This isn’t even an attempt at healing—it’s just an afterthought, a last-ditch effort to clear his conscience without ever truly facing the damage he caused. And it’s almost insulting.

Closure isn’t an email at 2 AM, casually dropped into your life as though he’s just checking off a box. It isn’t a collection of words stripped of warmth, void of real feeling, written at a distance, with no regard for the time, or the place, or the person it’s supposed to reach. Closure would have been a conversation. A real one. A face-to-face moment where he would have stayed, where he would have stayed long enough to listen, to hear you, and not just walk away the moment it got hard. That would have been closure. But he didn’t stay. He left you behind with nothing but the echoes of your unanswered questions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you struggle to steady yourself. You take a deep breath, but it shudders on the way in, uneven and sharp. It feels like your lungs are betraying you, like they can’t hold the air in anymore, and you’re left gasping in the void between anger and heartache. Your throat is thick with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not again. Not for him. You’ve cried enough tears for him already, enough for a lifetime. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this anymore, that you wouldn’t let him be the reason you hurt.

You want to reply. You want to scream, to let him know how deeply he’s failed you, how his absence is still an open wound, festering in the corners of your mind. You want to tell him that, even now, you still wake up in the middle of the night, expecting to hear his voice, expecting to feel the weight of his arm around your waist. You still reach for him in the dark, your fingers grasping at air, and you realize too late that he’s not there. You want to tell him that every time you see red—Ferrari red, that damn red, the color of his car, of everything he used to be to you—you feel like you might break all over again, like all the pieces you’ve tried to pick up and put together have shattered into even smaller bits.

But he's not Ferrari red anymore. He's Williams blue now. You’d probably be a new wrinkle in his life, a person who wouldn’t fit. Heck, you didn’t even fit when he was in Ferrari. You could answer him back, tell him you forgave him, that you both could be friends again. Maybe that would iron everything out nicely.

But you won’t. You won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t give him the power to pull you back into this mess, into this space where you lose yourself every time you think about him. He doesn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to let him keep doing this to you.

The frustration, the hurt, the unanswered questions—they all feel like they're swirling in a storm that won't quiet. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets around yourself as if they could offer the protection your mind and heart desperately crave.

You are fine. Everything is fine. You had your beers, your occasional crying sessions, your candles. You were doing so much better without him. You had to.

It cut deep, knowing him, all the way to the bone. The breakup had been necessary. It had to be. You were healing, getting better, moving on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the ache in your chest and the rapid, shallow breaths you couldn't control told a different story. It was one you knew the ending to but didn’t want to face. His email was oh so unnecessary, cruel even. He had broken up with you months ago, and yet here he was again, trying to reach back into your life. He shouldn’t have contacted you. He should’ve left you alone.

And you definitely should’ve stayed in bed.

Hatred and regret twisted inside of you, each trying to take the lead, but you were too exhausted to figure out which was winning. Still, you knew you had to respond.

Your gaze lingered on the laptop screen for what felt like hours, your mind scrambling for the right words, something that could strike him, something that would hurt, something that would linger with him forever the way he had lingered in your life. But nothing came.

Instead, what you found was something deeper—something far more painful.

Acceptance.

Acceptance was the true winner in the battle between your emotions. It was the thing you’d been running from, the thing you’d fought so hard to avoid. You had accepted it.

It was over.

So, with a steady hand, you typed the final words you’d ever send him and blocked his email so he could never contact you again.

"I don’t need your closure."

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[mohntilyet]

illario as the grandchild that is most like caterina is something i'm loving to chew on. the grandson that took her lessons to heart the most. kill anyone who sees your face and knows your name, "we are not revolutionaries", the first out of the two to prioritise the contract. power at any cost, and the only one to lean into the unnecessary abuse that their grandmother told them was tradition. why is anyone surprised he allied with the venatori? and then there's illario's considerable skill in infiltration and manipulating any mark, he has always had the charisma that lucanis lacked. illario isn't attached, he has/can/will use someone and immediately drop them; "that does free me from promises i don't intend to keep". he can lie about how much he cares so well that he fools a magister into believing he loves her. he kills zara without hesitation to cover his own tracks, meanwhile lucanis blindly promises a young girl in the middle of a siege that he will help her find her father. even the lessons about family stick with him, and in this entire messy power struggle, he never actually orders anyone to directly kill caterina or lucanis, not until he's backed into a corner.

and even after all that. despite even lucanis believing illario should be first talon, lucanis is still the better killer. illario is not strong enough to be the brutal assassin caterina needs him to be. so when lucanis seems to fill the role his mother left, grief and love for her dead heir apparent remains, and any of the other qualities caterina needs in her next talon doesn't matter. whatever his mother was, lucanis has to be. what illario does doesn't matter, because he will always be second best to caterina's memory of her favored daughter.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

When is an analogy about a falling tree actually about the complication of Eddie having moved his life to Texas only to realise he’s in love with his best friend?!!!

Because that’s what I’m getting from that Tim quote!! To talk about self flagelation, complications in reestablishing his relationship with Chris and then throw in a comment about never knowing what tree might fall on you to finish off the answer - was a choice!

And I can’t be the only one that is thinking back to 6x04 and the birdwatcher stuck under a tree (and the whole episode being about misunderstanding things and christopher lying and buck and Christopher’s relationship and things being complicated!) we’ve already had a callback to this episode as well this season with Buck riding white bikes and stopping traffic - we’ve graduated from a pushbike to a motorbike - things are speeding up!

[deoidesign]

Hello! I just discovered your blog and I immediately became captivated by your webcomic, but I'm unsure where to read all of it. I know it's on Webtoons, but I can see it hasn't been updated for a while, and you still post about it.

Are your physical novels just prints of the webcomic? Are they a continuation? Is the story complete? Thanks in advance!

Hi there!

Glad you found me and are enjoying my comic!

It's only on webtoons, and the story is not complete yet! We're 2/3 of the way through right now. It's currently on hiatus, and it's scheduled to come back in about 2 months!

I'll explain why it's been so long if you're curious, but also for my followers who might also be wondering about it under the cut. Sorry, it's pretty much just me complaining haha

I took a month off I took 2 months to get the books printed I took a month to prepare my next comic and I took 2 months to write the rest of the series (I knew the character arcs I wanted, but not the time periods or mysteries!!!) I've been working on actual episodes since then

I had to take some time off because of some pretty extreme burnout due to the sheer amount of work it was to draw over 800 pages and write 6 complete stories in a year and a half... I was getting sick almost weekly due to the overwork, it was really really bad honestly. I was having to work 60+ hours every week just to keep up...

The nature of the comic itself is also difficult... Each of the arcs is a complete, self contained story which can be read (ideally) without context, and my arcs need to be about 10-13 episodes each... And since I have an exact number of episodes to work with, it's even harder.

It takes a ton of planning and a ton of refinement, and working week to week with no breaks I was forced to put out second or even first drafts, so I just wasn't happy with the work I was doing... And to do that for the rest of the series? I wouldn't be proud of the work I did.

Plus... To be entirely honest, webtoon has treated me quite badly IN MY OPINION... They deprioritized me before I launched (I had to beg for more promotion, I'm not exaggerating), they outright denied me the opportunity to even ask for a raise, I don't make any money on fast pass and they pay me less than my partner makes working at trader joes. My first editor left me completely hanging, my second editor (who I loved) was fired... And they told me I wouldn't get a third season before my first season even finished. So it was just repeatedly completely demoralizing.

I'm sorry it has taken so long, it'll have been 10 months by the time I come back. But I realized... I won't get promotion either way. I won't get more episodes either way. I won't get more money either way. So to finish everything, to make it feel good, to make it something I'm proud of, I chose to take longer to make it better.

I am fully aware I will lose a significant amount of my readership for this and it might genuinely affect my career moving forward. But it's what I had to do! So I'm sticking to my guns on it, and I'm confident long term it'll be worth it. It never could have been this good if I didn't take this much time.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

There is a very exquisite agony in playing a game you love so so so so so much, and realizing that one of the other players is trying to play a totally different game than you.

[skrunksthatwunk]

look sometimes you hang out with your underling's many cats after a sparring match and learn new things about him

[ehh-is-the-name]

It's past 11 on a school night and I'm fucking crying over robot sentience.

I could never understand what it would feel like to be created with the intent to kill and maim. Maybe, the intent to work and be worked, but not kill and maim.

I will never understand what it's like to be created with the intention of being a product for the masses, either. I think, I hope, I beg, no one does.

I will never ever be able to fully comprehend why hours of people's work, time, and money would be put into formulating my sentience only for me to be seen as disposable. Even if I could be improved, even if I were "defective", there is no reasonable justification for giving me emotions only to dismiss them by pushing me as a product for a year before starting anew.

It's... It's cruel, to the machines. Sentient or not, it's cruel. Though, I guess we are cruel.

[alchemania]

Love Comes, Slowly. (Death Comes Faster.)

(Or, Furina falls ill, and Wanderer is confronted with the fact he cares a lot more than he realized.)

(He's got a name in this drabble too lads yippee!! He and Furina are close enough now he feels comfortable letting her call him by a name :] oh yeah and uh. This was not intended as shippy, if you were wondering, just to get that out of the way. It's platonic.)

“..ina. Furina!”

The white haired girl blinked owlishly, startled to attention. “Huh? What?”

“This is the third time I've called you,” Tetsuya frowned, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you daydreaming?” Furina flushed in answer, scratching the back of her neck.

“I've just been a little out of it today,” she muttered. That much was an understatement. She'd awaken with a fogginess in her head and a heaviness in her stomach that just hadn't gone away, and everything seemed to be processing twice as slowly, leaving her behind as the world kept moving. Was it always this warm, too??? Furina felt like she was baking, even for a place as warm as Sumeru, something felt off-

“Hey!”

Wanderer's hands grabbing her face snapped her to attention, and Furina instinctively leaned into them a little, comforted by how cool they were. In contrast, his pupils dilated a little - humans were always very warm in contrast to him, but Furina felt especially hot. “Are you sick?”

"I don't know…. maybe…?”

Tetsuya's eyes flashed with something unreadable, and he quickly took his companion by the hand, fear gripping his chest as much as he would deny it was there. “Well, we need to get you medical attention, then.”

“I'll be fine-”

“I know you will,” he asserted, “because we are GOING to get you looked at.” His tone left no room for arguments, and Furina stared at him hollowly before weakly nodding. She didn't understand why he was so vehement all of a sudden, but she didn't have much energy to be stubborn.

“Mkay…”

Tetsuya began to lead her through the city then, and she let herself be pulled along, slipping in and out of awareness as voices around her rose and fell like the tides. Very soon however, it was a struggle just to put one foot in front of the other, and Furina wobbled to a stop, a hand to her temple. Wanderer turned to her then, frowning. “What's wrong?”

“Tired,” she mumbled, barely able to keep her eyes open. “Achy, too…”

“We'll be to the clinic soon, just - we're going to get you some help,” he replied, and if she were fully coherent she'd notice his voice was slightly strained from barely concealed worry. “Come on. You can lean on me if you need to.” He seemed so far away, despite the fact he was right there, and Furina's legs buckled, too weak to support their owner's weight anymore. She crumpled to the ground, and Tetsuya froze, unable to move for a moment. And then the spell was broken, and he knelt by her side, frantic. “Furina!? Hey!! HEY!! Furina!!” With shaky hands, he took her pulse, relief flooding him when it came through strong and consistent.

It might not stay that way for long, though. You've seen this before.

Pushing that thought away, Tetsuya carefully wrapped one arm around Furina's back to support her and then scooped her up princess style - she was so small, and he noticed her cheeks were quite rosy, beads of sweat all over her brow.

..the fever's getting worse.

He had to hurry. He had to hurry.

Tetsuya swears he's never flown so fast before, everything whizzing by in a blur (and if his vision blurred for reasons other than his swiftness, no one needed to know). The moment he touches the ground again, he's racing towards one of the nurses, chest too hot and too cold all at once. “My friend collapsed,” (and it's startling, how easy it is now to call her that) “Help her. Please.” Furina was gently taken from his arms, and he lingered like a shadow as she was carefully placed in one of the beds, a cool cloth laid on her brow. “She gonna be alright?” Wanderer ventured, and his voice was so so small, expression more akin to someone centuries ago; someone who hadn't yet seen the depth of all the world's sorrows. One of the nurses turned and nodded, in reassurance.

“Her illness was caught early on, so she should be just fine. It's good you noticed quickly. She should be back to normal in a few days with rest, but you can spend the night if you'd like-”

“Absolutely.” He was not going to leave. No way in hell. Settling into a chair nearby, he tried to calm the storm in his chest, closing his eyes to clear his thoughts. The hours flew by, and eventually Wanderer sat up and gently shook Furina, to rouse her. “It's time for you to take your medicine. Come on.” Furina didn't move, and suddenly, he couldn't breathe, chills gripping him.

Oh.

Oh, god. God, please, no. Not again. Please, not again. He couldn't do this again.

“Hey,” Tetsuya called again, shaking the girl harder. “If this is a joke, it's not funny. You need to get up. They said you were going to get better, so you have to.” He'd made it in time this time, he'd - as soon as he could, he'd brought her here… so there was no reason that -

Tetsuya took Furina's hand, and to his horror, it was cold (like his) and limp. Just like - no, no no. This wasn't happening this could NOT be happening it couldn't!! “You can't just - leave me like this,” he managed, tears flooding his eyes. But she had. She had, and he didn't even get to say goodbye, and he couldn't breathe, sobs choking him. This time, he understood that death was a constant, that it would come and claim all humans eventually but-

...that didn't make it hurt any less, as much as he'd tried to deny it.

“Furina, come on, you're one of the only friends I have I - please don't leave me behind. Please - I'll do anything just wake up; wake up!”

I couldn't save you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

He can't stop crying. He's sprung a leak and he can't fix it and everything hurts so badly and a nurse is taking his hand and pulling him away and turning his face into her chest so he won't look, and he can't stop crying and he's begging her to do something, anything, but she can't. She knows that, and he knows it, too.

Furina was gone, and he couldn't do anything. No one could.

Tetsuya jolted awake, tears streaming down his cheeks, and gasped. Stars twinkled above, and he sat up after a split second of regaining his senses. It was a dream. It was just a dream. Then, Furina- getting up in a hurry, he raced to her side and shook her frantically, and to his immense relief, she stirred. Heterochromic eyes stared blankly at him, and she blinked sleepily. “Tetsuya…?? What - oogh!” He was squeezing her in a hug before she could process what was happening, tucking his head into her shoulder. “Oh….hey hey, it's okay,” Furina mumbled, patting his back weakly in reassurance. “M’just tired..why are you crying??”

“You're okay,” he barely managed, holding her like she'd disappear if he let go. “I had a dream and - no, it..it doesn't matter. It wasn't real. You're okay.” Wanderer's voice broke then, and he sobbed, relief overwhelming. “You can't leave me yet, okay? Not yet. Please. You're the best friend I ever had.”

“I'm going to get better, don't worry. They're taking good care of me here, and I'll be out in no time and - ….”

“What? What is it? What's wrong?”

“Nothing, just.. you said, I'm your friend-”

The young man froze, taken aback, and then eased up again, slowly nodding. “.. I did say that.”

“You mean it?”

“..Wouldn't say it if I didn't.”

Furina smiled, laying her head atop Wanderer's, and blue and white locks spilled into each other. “You're my friend too, yanno. Thank you for bringing me here when you did. I might be a lot worse off otherwise.”

“You don't have to thank me. I just - . . did what anybody would do.”

“Maybe, but I still want to thank you. Gotta make sure the people you love know they're appreciated.” Tetsuya stiffened at that, blinking rapidly. Oh god, she couldn't just - say things like that, he'd cry all over again and - he had to have misheard.

“You- …what?”

“You're my friend, and I love you,” Furina reasserted, and she said it so easily, like she was talking about the weather, like she was stating a fact of the world, and it shook him to his core.

“.. I - oh,” was all he could say, hot tears making their way down his face again. “Just. Just like that?”

“Just like that,” she nodded, and the tears fell faster. He loved her too, he realized - he wasn't quite sure the exact dimensions of it but he knew he cared for her as a friend would, wanted to stand by her side and defend her with everything he had. Still, it wasn't very easy to say that, so he hoped his actions spoke for themselves. She seemed to understand though, to his relief.

“..why?” Tetsuya finally ventured, because he did not understand. There were many things he did not understand, actually. What he did not expect was for her to answer his question with a question.

“Why not?”

“Why not? Because - …I mean, you've seen how I act.”

“Doesn't make you unlovable, yanno. You're prickly, yeah, but I mean. If love is conditional, it's not love at all. You care about me - the real me, and I care about you, flaws and all. And that's not gonna change. Okay?”

“...mm,” Wanderer managed, nodding once.

Just like that. Just because he was, he was cared for. Worldrocking, that.

They stayed like that for a long time, until one of the nurses came to take care of Furina, and soon after the girl fell asleep. Tetsuya watched how the nurse gently tucked her in and brushed her damp bangs out of her forehead, expression contemplative. Humans could be selfish, they could be deceptive, they could be cowardly - but they also cared about each other and they loved each other, too- and some of them had so, so much love to give, it was daunting. Here in one moment and gone the next but they loved so much and so deeply - and for a moment, he wondered if he could, too, love the world and everything in it or - most things. He didn't think so, but these days it did seem a little brighter than it had before. Maybe that was a sign he was changing, without realizing it.

He would think more about it later. For now, he simply held Furina's hand as she slept and leaned his head on the side of the bed, heart steady. They'd said she needed a few days to recuperate, and he would be here until then. She would be okay, she would be alright. There was nothing to fear anymore, and everything would be okay. He wasn't going to lose her - not for now, anyway.

..to love, and to be loved, was wonderful, he thought.

Maybe that was living.

..he could come to thrive in it.

[fortune-maiden]

I've always liked this line of dialogue from SQX, because it does feel like at the end of the day, no matter how much SQX says he can't stand PM, he does still have a decent grasp of his character.

And on the other side of this, these words are just especially pointed towards Pei Xiu, who does have a good relationship with his boss/ancestor, and also going off his backstory, Pei Ming may well have been the first person in his life to acknowledge him and his talents.

So the whole thing just feels extra sad.

[ceramicbeetle]

kind of astounding how innocuous conversations with my younger siblings can make me feel like dogshit... what are the good things about being the oldest kid supposed to be again??

[kakusu-shipping]

karma again! just out of curiosity since i'm a bit confused, but are you a system with a korosensei fictive?

No, but I can totally see how you'd get that idea, the way I talk is confusing. I'm surprised you're the first to ask honestly.

You know how some people waste resources with like, Character AI chat bots? It's like that, but the computer is my brain.

I'll get really hyper focused on a character and build up their personality, reactions, likes and dislikes and such in my head until they're basically fully functionally in there and running on their own, talking to me or other characters bounding around up there.

For most it's temporary, they'll run for a month or so straight and then shut off to rest. They're still THERE, just not on.

But for Koro-Sensei he's basically always on. I'm constantly running his programming because I like seeing how he reacts to things, mostly media I'm into at the moment, and I feel very confident about how I visualize him.

So no, not a system, no alters, it's just me and my wildly overactive imaginary Koro-Sensei program against the world.

[keeps-ache]

lost vocation: fish

[killjoy-prince]

Ray's After Ending is so funny because for a good chunk of it, most of the RFA members are knocked out by V's sleeping gas (Saeran is immune, Saeyoung isn't present bc he was kidnapped by his agency under his father's orders and MC wakes up in like an hour) but the game has a call feature where you can call the characters and it would be a waste if you couldn't use it bc the characters were unavailable so instead they have other people pick up the call (Jumin's driver picks up Jumin's phone, Jumin's father picks up Zen's phone, Yoosung's friends and mom pick up Yoosung's phone and Jaehee's coworkers pick up Jaehee's phone) and we do get to learn about the characters from outsider's point of view but it's so funny to me that these people are visiting their loved ones and suddenly the phone rings and they decide to just. answer it. and start talking to this stranger they've never met

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently