#sunlit starshine

[sabrina-valerie]

I love you so fucking much, your f/o thinks to themself, watching you do something mind-numbingly and incomprehensibly stupid.

[suguwu]

RECKONING

In the morning light, things are painfully clear.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

a sequel to aftermath.

pairing: getou suguru x gn!reader

notes: was i ever expecting to finish this sequel? not really. did it possess me this afternoon? yes. so here we are. unbeta'd.

wc: 1.2k

cw: mentions/implications of child abuse.

You make mackerel for breakfast.

It crackles as you lay it in the pan. You watch as the skin starts to sear, and you think of the scorch marks a lightning strike leaves behind.

Suguru is warm next to you, deftly cutting a cucumber into perfect little medallions. The quiet, hollow thud of your sharpest chef’s knife rings in your ears.

(He took it from you with gentle, firm fingers, his big hand wrapping around yours on the handle. The blade flashed in the watery morning light, a quicksilver gleam. 

You could feel his dark eyes on you. Idly, you wondered where he was slotting you in his ever-shifting equation.

He swept his thumb over your skin. The touch was soft. Familiar.

You let go of the knife.)

Suguru pauses mid-cut.

“The girls are awake,” he says, just as you feel his curse—swirling slowly around your guest room, a lazy seaweed drift—stutter to a halt.

“Go,” you say. “I'll finish up here.”

He’s broad against your back as he slips by, and you know that if you turned around, he’d curve around you like the sky, vast and unending. His fingertips ghost over the small of your back, leaving little imprints against your skin, even through your shirt. Then the heat of him is gone; you hear him pad down the hallway.

He leaves the knife. 

For a moment, you stare at it. It's glinting on the cutting board, wet with cucumber seeds. Your fingers twitch.

You flip the mackerel over.

You’re watching the edges blacken when Suguru reaches past you and turns off the burner. He moves the pan to the side. When he pulls back, he catches your chin in one big hand and makes you face him. 

His eyes—night-sky dark and gleaming like starshine—trace over you. He has Nanako balanced on his hip; Mimiko is holding on to his pant leg, her knuckles white. She stares up at you with big eyes. There are bruises scattered over her face like storm clouds, deep and dark. 

Your chest hurts, a bone-deep ache, like your ribs are collapsing in on themselves, an eggshell cage. 

Suguru’s grip tightens on your chin. He looks you over, his gaze flaying, stripping you down to your marrow, an autopsy cut. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but he sweeps his thumb over your bottom lip, slow and heavy. 

When he lets go of you, the breath you were holding spills out of you. You watch silently as he puts Nanako down. He kneels in front of both girls to speak to them, but you don’t hear him, not really. The words are beyond your grasp; there’s only the sound of Suguru’s voice, warm and rich, dripping over you like resin. You think of insects caught in sunlit amber, how perfectly they’re preserved in their final moments. 

The girls disappear into the dining area, accompanied by one of Suguru’s more playful curses. It darts around them, hovering nearby and nudging at them when they turn to look back at him. 

There’s something in Suguru’s face each time they turn around; a terrible, tender twist of his lips. 

You turn back to the stove.

Suguru settles at your side. “I think it’s beyond saving,” he says, watching you poke at the mackerel with a chopstick. 

“It’s not.” 

The skin crunches, a few bits of char flaking away. 

He wraps a hand around your wrist. When you glance at him, his dark eyes pierce through you. “Yes,” he says. “It is.”

He watches you. You bite your lip and nod.

The sound of him emptying the pan into the trash makes you wince. Each scrape of the knife echoes, a whining animal noise that makes your bones ache. 

Suguru sets the pan into the sink with a hollow thud.

“I have eggs,” you offer. 

“Tamagoyaki?”

“Yeah.” 

“Sounds good.”

You gather everything you need; Suguru goes back to the cucumbers, the knife singing as it slices through them, its blade slick. You try not to watch, instead staring down into the frothy swirl of eggs.

It’s quiet. 

In the distance, you can hear the girls talking to each other softly, their voices barely over a whisper, all shivering leaves. It makes something in your chest go tight, how quiet they are. 

“You would have taken them too.”

You go still. You don’t look at Suguru.

“Yes,” you say. “I would have.”

He hums; it sounds pleased. You swallow down the bile. 

The two of you don’t speak again.

—

Breakfast is a quiet affair. The girls stare at you from across the kotatsu, where they’re pressed in against Suguru’s sides like little limpets. They flinch when you move, their honey-brown eyes widening. It makes your stomach roil, a storm-struck sea. 

Suguru talks, but you barely hear him. When you have to ask him to repeat himself for the fourth time, he pauses, his dark eyes flickering over you. 

He shoos the girls into your living room, sending yet another curse flitting after them, a little darting fish with too many eyes. 

“Come here,” he says, and you do. 

When you settle next to him, he raises a hand and cups your cheek. You turn into his touch without thinking, your lips pressing against the leylines of his palm. You wonder if his future is written there. 

(You think yours might be.)

He examines you for a moment. Suguru has always been able to flay you down to your marrow, but this time, it feels sharper, a slit into the very heart of you. 

He strokes a thumb over the apple of your cheek, shifting so that he cradles your jaw. Your lips part; you unfurl for him, petal-bodied. He leans in. 

“Don’t,” you murmur.

He pauses.

For a moment, he lingers, his lips almost brushing yours. His breath ghosts hot across your lips; when he breathes in, he takes your air, makes it his own. 

“You’re not coming.”

“No,” you whisper. “I’m not.” 

His fingers tighten on your jaw. You take in a sharp breath and they loosen again, before his hand falls away entirely. 

When you look at him, his face is perfectly blank, a rising new moon fading into the sky. There’s something secret tucked up into the corner of his lips, too faint for you to decipher. 

“Suguru—”

He pushes to his feet gracefully. He gazes down at you, still on your knees before him. Like this, he takes up your entire world, his broad form the earth and the sky alike. He gazes down at you, and for a moment, you don’t know him at all.

He steps around you, heading towards the living room.

Something in you cracks open, a wound of your own making. You swallow down the sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to the empty room.

Only silence answers you.

—

Suguru leaves.

Mimiko is cradled against his shoulder, her little body furled in tight against him. You think of early spring blooms, still delicate in the aftermath of winter’s harsh touch. Nanako is pressing close to his leg, her hand engulfed in his steady grip. He’s slowed his pace for her.

You watch them until they disappear. 

Suguru never looks back.

—

“Principal Yaga?” you say into the phone. “I need to make a report.”

[eternalstarlitwonderland]

Starstruck

As the night drew in, the once bright blue skies became nightly navy in an instant

The moon has arrived at this nightly hour

Its shape form of a crescent

A half moon, truly not fully a full moon heretofore...

It is translucent yet it is visible to the human eye

The stars began to emerge as the night slowly set itself in

The commencement of the starlit hour

Where an hour is dedicated to the stars

The brilliant lights brightened the night

Brilliantly gleaming in the nightly atmosphere

Enticing the stargazers and those who are casual observers of the stars

The starlight streamed down through the clear glassed windowsill, irradiating her face

The starshine glimmered on her

Arousing her awake from her slumber

Being awaken by its phosphorescence

The brilliant glimmer awaits her

Welcoming her with open arms

She walks into a sparkly atmosphere

Where the night itself is on the center stage

The twinkly stars are the main essence of the nightly masterpiece

Being spellbound by its celestial beauty

Suddenly she saw a single star fall from the collective

A spark of light, high above

Launching and plunging toward her

Shielding herself from the bright light

The girl ebulliently and yet carefully approaches the incandescent flare

As she drew near, Her heart began to skip a beat and her thoughts begin to race

Without a second thought she picked the incandescent star up from the ground

The incandescence roused her curiosity

She asked herself "What does this convey?"

Is this a signal? Or is this a false alarm?

Who knows...

Several minutes have passed

The incandescence slowly withers and eventually it has vanished

Instead, it was replaced by the soft luminesce

Softly illuminating throughout

The star started to brightly resonate once more

But this time it was a soft glimmer

Their soft glint along with the soft luminesce of the atmosphere

The remaining stars overhead gleamed with the phosphorescence

Now she and the star are face to face

The star put their hand on her hair and softly caressed her flowy tresses

Her body began to relaxed, as the star placidly her

The girl stood irresolute inside the soft illumination

She feel that everything around her seems to stop for a brief second

The girl notices that her face crimsoned as she was being enclasped by its amorous enclasp

Sensing the heat between them grew in intensity

Through the deafening silence she could hear her heart pulsating

Before she knew it, Its warm lips touched hers

Their lips interlaced in a heartfelt enfold

She felt its warmth and couldn't help to be melted in its soothing presence

Alleviates her uncertainty and assuage her fears and anxieties

Relieving her from the constant cynicism and

irresolution

She couldn't believe in her wildest dreams

Being lovingly embraced by a fallen star

Everything seems to be in a brilliant stagnation

It's so surreal and even dream-like

Afterwards, The sunlight glimmered through the clear glassed windowsill

The girl was awaken by the sunlit gleam

She sees the once effulgent star just lying on the nightstand and softly shimmered in the daylit glint

The daylight softly graced her with its soft coruscate

Then she knew that she wasn't dreaming

She blushed at the realization

Her body gradually warmed up

Then she knew that her love burns so brilliant

Like an effulgent light

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

From the moment Milton and I locked eyes at the auction months ago - I’ve had drawings in my head.

I’ve finally started one, and have been poking at it tentatively for the last few days.

I want to do a series - Milton peeking out from my landscape here, carefully rendered scenes which I see every day, but with a glimpse of his wacky grin and bright red runners.

I don’t know why. But so goes the Muse, and follow I MUST.

**************************************

Have been having a hard time of late. Skin doesn’t fit right. Short, dark days where ambition runs a mile ahead and I can’t quite catch up. I confess that I took down the Christmas tree - YESTERDAY.

Yeah. That happened.

I’ve been playing a five CD set up in the studio while I’m working - “Greatest Hits of the Sixties”. (I’ve had a merry month or so of a 10 CD set of Hoagy Carmichael - but this is a different story)

It’s had the peculiar effect of tossing me ass-over-tea-kettle into my former, younger self. “Good Morning Star Shine” had me singing along as though I was 11, in that high, winter sunlit pasture with Casey DunBravven. We had a battery-powered turntable and a vinyl single with Age of Aquarius on the “A” side - and “Good Morning Star Shine” on the “B”

We climbed the hill on an early February afternoon. I found a tree with a family of raccoons living inside, they stared up at us quietly as we stood on tiptoe - peering into the hollow.

Sitting in the long grass, we played our record over and over again as the sun dipped below the cloud and turned the field to gold.

Good Morning Starshine.

[beophota]

Imagine how on one of these nights, instead of a nightmare, Mike had a dream. He is in a field with flowers, and Ninette gradually approaches him. Sitting down next to him, hugging him tightly, and says "It's not your fault, Mike. You know, we are best friends, and it will always be like this, even if we are divided by fate! I will watch you from above, and be proud that I have a best friend like you .. You've been through so many things and you never gave up. I'm proud so of you, Mike."

OKAAAYYY SO THIS IS BEAUTIFULLLL

I tried to keep her wording close to your idea, but my creative brain parts went WILD

_

Mike knew he was dreaming. He had to be. He sat in a wide, vast field that stretched on into a large, round sun.

He took a breath of warm air and it tasted like flowers. He looked around himself curiously, apprehensive to trust the beauty around him.

The bright colors of thousands of flowers reflecting the light, could easily die in the next two seconds, gone. Gone like her.

Life is so fleeting. Its unfair, so unfair.

He felt his chest tightening at the thought of Ninette. The flowers around him seemed to reach towards him, brushing against his sitting figure. Somehow it felt like they were trying to comfort him.

It felt like her.

"Mike..."

Mike looked up, right into the sun. Strangely, he wasn't blinded by the light, eyes focusing on the familiar figure standing a bit farther away.

His breath stilled in his lungs, his body lurching forward slightly, eyes widening.

"N..." he barely managed to speak, locking his gaze with a pair of pale pink eyes.

It...

It couldn't be her. But there she was, alive and breathing and standing there smiling that perfect crooked smile.

Mike felt his heart nearly burst as he launched upwards, running towards her. The flowers in his path parted for him, and as her figure became clearer and closer, he hope desperately that this wasn't a trick.

It was dream, he knew that. But god, he hoped she wouldn't disappear at the last second, wouldn't dissolve in his arms into bones and guts, that she would stay.

And she did. Ninette opened her arms with a soft smile, and Mike felt tears well up in his eyes.

The moment he reached her, he pulled her into a tight hug. He didn't want to let go, afraid if he did she would be gone again.

Ninette wrapped her long arms around him, and Mike didn't realize he was sobbing until he tried to speak.

"Ni-Ninette I-I'm so sorry- I'm so sorry!"

It felt so odd to finally say her name after all this time, after she died he couldn't bring himself to say it.

Ninette shushed him softly, slender fingers gently petting his head.

Mike felt like he was back at State Morrigan, leaned against her as they read about tiger lilies and dandelions. She would pet his hair, she always said she liked how it felt.

"Mike, don't be sad," she said, pulling back and resting her palms against his cheeks. "Don't blame yourself. My death," her heart clenched at Mike flinching. "Wasn't your fault. It wasn't Mike. No one blames you. I would have died even if you had gotten to me."

Mike's face twisted and he held onto her wrists, shaking his head and licking his lips free of stay tears.

His golden eyes were red and glassy as he looked at her. "B-But I could've- I could've saved you!"

"No," Ninette shook her head in response, smiling warmly. "You couldn't have."

Mike memorized the way her mouth quirked slightly more to the left.

"You're my best friend, Mike. And you always will be. Even if I'm far away," Ninette ran her knuckles down his cheek, wiping away the tears and Mike leaned into her touch with a trembling sigh.

"Even if I'm a thousand light years away, even if I am not there, I'm with you. I'm here," she pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart.

"And I'm here," she tapped his temple gently, then moving his hand and placing it over her heart. "And you will always be here."

Somehow, Mike could feel the gentle beating of her heart. It was so calm.

He looked at her through watery eyes, feeling like this might be coming to an end soon. He didn't want it to.

He wanted to stay in this sunlit field of flowers forever, here with Ninette.

"Remember my favorite poem?" Ninette said, sitting down cross legged on a patch of sunflowers.

They moved under and around her, providing a seat of orange and yellow petals. Mike sat down next to her.

"Yes... do not stand at my grave and weep," he began, feeling the chill of more tears behind his eyes. He dared not look away from her.

"I am not there, I do not sleep," Ninette responded, reaching out and taking his hands in hers.

"I am in a thousand winds that blow," Mike felt his lip tremble, his grip on her hands tightening.

"I am the softly falling snow," Ninette smiled through her own tears.

"I am the gentle showers of rain," Mike lifted her hands to his face, gently kissing them.

"I am the fields of ripening grain," Ninette let a soft sob follow her words. He was so sad, he deserved to be happy.

Her happy Mikey.

"I am in the morning hush," Mike scooted closer and laid his head against her shoulder. Just like old times.

"I am in the graceful rush, of beautiful birds in circling flight," Ninette stared up into the circling sun, eyes bright with tears.

"I am the starshine of the night," Mike softly squeezed her hands, committing every detail, every scar, every freckled and bump to his memory.

"I am in the flowers that bloom," Ninette smiled wide at the sentence, sniffling and squeezing his hands back.

That was their favorite line.

"I am in a quiet room, I am in the birds that sing," Mike turned his gaze towards the sun as well, wishing this would last. He could hear a familiar tone in the distance, and his heart jumped in fear.

"I am in each lovely thing," Ninette turned and held his face in her hands once more, not taking her eyes off his.

"Do not stand at my grave and cry," she said, smiling wide and moving her thumbs against his damp cheeks, the tone growing louder and louder.

"I am not there. I did not die."

Mike sat up, heart beating wildly. His hand slammed the dismiss button on his clock.

A train horn blared somewhere, far away.

He looked around his room, at the flowers and the potted cacti, his eyes landing on a small sunflower, basking in the morning light on his windowsill.

'I am not there. I did not die.'

[becomewant]

@dragunxx​   :   primal growl in the back of throat , mixing with a whimper as yang tugs her yin , lips grazing &. nipping along scruffy jawline with want. ❛ harder — ❜ mewls , a beg uttered right into ren’s ear while hips roll into them. so much for having too much pride to beg , right ? ❛ i don’t wanna be able to walk much after this , baby. make me yours. ❜ pretty please with a cherry on top ?

how long and arduous months away from other half were,   to tread among destined path but know half the world divides you and beloved. stormborne had cast gaze skyward like longing constellation each night, waiting for that glimpse of dawning sunlight. grimm were abound, their puppet masters utilising beasts to scare innocents, and the mission far more intensive than ever anticipated. one month became three, with little communication between, as is what tended to happen when ren became far too invested in their goals. only in the lingering moments before exhaustion - wrought slumber did dragon’s mind stray to their nova, wondering whether she was thinking of them, and sighing with forlorn want as they laid saccharine kiss to red thread tattoo. sunny dragoness was never far from ren’s thoughts, even with gaze cast towards grimm the thought of her ingrained into muscle memory   ;   take care of yourself, leave no more scars.   each enemy defeated is one step closer to coming home.

nothing could ever compare to the feeling of yang’s excited pounce upon lotus treading familiar doorway once more, an embrace like the sun after a long harsh winter, but better   —   so much better.   lips pressed to her familiar starshine smile and ren would revel in breathing in the cosmos once more, feel it take their breath away and not minding one bit. how easily they fell back into a harmonic cadence, as if once yang slotted with perfectly aligned yin they could find balance within each other again. all at once their wear dissipated, muscles sore and heart worn heavy with death and violence, cleaned away like sunlit brook. nova’s presence was that of a pure indulgence, something ren had once come to view as luxury, spoiling once disciplined and stoic warrior. smothered with her touch again it was hard to believe they could ever live without this, with hands upon their skin reminding them how wonderful it was to exist at the same time.

dragon exhaled in plumes, heady amaranthine hue became hazy with want, stuttered rhythm halted to hear rapturous pleas. they swore they’d never heard anything quite so addicting than in these moments. she has a magnificent way of short circuiting their brain, filling it with nothing but want, carnal instinct, giving into that which ren suppressed for very long, grey years. they could do little more than nod, controlled roll of their hips thrusting into her with twice as much force. smirk curled the corner of their lips, sacrificing speed for the power to give yang what she wanted. tempo slowed to an absolutely torturous pace, if only to coax out more begging from their beloved. it seemed they still retained some discipline, if only to meet their selfish ends. one hand held fast against the curve of her neck, only enough pressure to feel the beating thrum of her pulse as they fucked her slow and intense. forehead pressed to sweat - slicked skin, bestowing quick wanting kisses and panting against her mouth. they repeated like mantra, like prayer   ;

‘   ...   mine.   mine.   ’

[presmouse]

🌭

[ KIM YERIM / DEMIGIRL / SHE/THEY ] —— hey, look, it’s LONDON LUNAR! you know, the SEVENTEEN year old child of THE MAN IN THE MOON, which means they’re from AURADON. i’ve heard they’re OTHERWORDLY, but also kinda DITZY. they sorta remind me of TIARAS MADE UP OF MOONSTONES AND STARSHINE, STARDUST FALLING FROM HER FINGERTIPS, LISTENING TO CHILDREN’S WISHES THROUGH STRAY BALLOONS. ( winnie )

[ JENNIE KIM / DEMIGIRL / SHE/THEY ] —— hey, look, it’s SYLVIE LIGNUM! you know, the TWENTY year old child of THE WOODMAN, which means they’re from AURADON. i’ve heard they’re BOLD, but also kinda INCONSIDERATE. they sorta remind me of TYING WILDFLOWERS IN TANGLED HAIR, SNEAKING INTO THE LIBRARY AT THREE IN THE MORNING, LYING IN FRONT OF A FIRE ON COLD WINTER NIGHTS. ( winnie ) 

[ LALISA MANOBAN / CISFEMALE / SHE/HER ] —— hey, look, it’s ANAISE RUE! you know, the NINETEEN year old child of THE LIBRARIAN, which means they’re from AURADON. i’ve heard they’re KNOWLEDGEABLE, but also kinda CRYPTIC they sorta remind me of KNOWING EVERY BOOK IN A LIBRARY BY HEART, HIDING FORBIDDEN SPELLBOOKS INSIDE HER JACKET, LIGHTNING FLASHING VISIBLE THROUGH THE DARKEST OF CLOUDS. ( winnie ) 

[ KIM TAEHYUNG / DEMIBOY / HE/HIM ] —— hey, look, it’s ATTICUS BRONWYN! you know, the TWENTY-ONE year old child of ALFUR THE ELF, which means they’re from AURADON. i’ve heard they’re BENEVOLENT, but also kinda METICULOUS. they sorta remind me of SMALL VOICES THAT SEEM TO COME OUT OF NOWHERE, WEARING A SCARF ON A CHILLY DAY, ONE’S FIRST TIME VISITING A BIG CITY. ( winnie ) 

[ LEE SEOYEON / CIS FEMALE / SHE/HER ] —— hey, look, it’s XIOMARA SAFFRON! you know, the SEVENTEEN year old child of ZARINA THE PIRATE FAIRY, which means they’re from AURADON. i’ve heard they’re SCIENTIFIC, but also kinda HYPERFOCUSED. they sorta remind me of MIXING FLOWERS WITH FAIRY DUST UNTIL IT DOES WHAT YOU WISH, INSTANT NOODLES AT THREE IN THE MORNING, TELLING TALL TALES TO AVOID ANY TROUBLE. ( winnie ) 

[ CHOU TZUYU / CIS FEMALE / SHE/HER ] —— hey, look, it’s LORNA ENLIL! you know, the EIGHTEEN year old child of VARIAN, which means they’re from AURADON. i’ve heard they’re INTELLIGENT, but also kinda RESERVED. they sorta remind me of THE DARKNESS OUTSIDE WHEN THE MOON IS NEW, SHELVES UPON SHELVES STACKED WITH MULTICOLOURED POTIONS, HIDING IN HER ROOM ALL DAY TO AVOID AWKWARD SITUATIONS. ( winnie ) 

[ JANG WONYOUNG / CIS FEMALE / SHE/HER ] —— hey, look, it’s AZALEA LARKSPUR! you know, the FIFTEEN year old child of A WONDERLAND FLOWER, which means they’re from AURADON. i’ve heard they’re ETHEREAL, but also kinda SOFTSPOKEN. they sorta remind me of DANCING THROUGH A SUNLIT FIELD, THE LACIEST DRESSES ONE CAN COME ACROSS, BUBBLEGUM PINK LIPSTUCK ADORNING PLUSH LIPS. ( winnie ) 

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine hearing your f/o singing under their breath, thinking you can't hear them, and getting startled when you start singing along to their tune. The two of you make quite the duet!

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine kissing your f/o’s hand, their wrist, the crook of their arm, their shoulder, their neck, their cheek in a winding trail until you’re grinning at their blushing face. Of course, you finish your little journey off by planting a kiss square on their lips!

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine your f/o sleeping in, face finally free of the stress that had plagued them for the past few days. Content to let them get their rest, you decide to make breakfast in bed for them for when they wake.  Their eyes lighting up as you present it to them made the effort well worth it.

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine sweeping your f/o off their feet, regardless of whether you can actually lift them off the ground or not.

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine lavishing compliment after compliment onto your f/o and watching their blush darken and darken and darken as they duck their head in embarrassment.

Maybe they push through that embarrassment to respond with a compliment of their own that gets you to start blushing, too. Not so fun on the other side, now is it?

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine putting things high on the shelves in you and your f/o’s shared space, to the consternation of said f/o who also happens to be way shorter than you.

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine your f/o huddling in the space between you and your coat to warm themselves up (or attempting to anyway, if they’re not really small enough to wedge themselves in there…).

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine all the tension leaving your f/o’s body the moment you enter the room.

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagining tackling your f/o to the ground to kiss them over and over and over and over and —