#the candles look like they're dissolving

[flicker-away]

TRICK OR TREAT 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🕷🕷🕷🕷

EHEHEHEHEH HAPPY HALLOWEEN

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[julsvu]

hoo characters as small things that bring people comfort

tags. fluff, lowk self-indulgent, corny as hell, gn! reader, implied relationship, not proofread

annabeth chase is the human embodiment of books, just like the ones she reads often. just like the ones she'd read to you; either rambling about how amazingly accurate it is, or how it just didn't reach her approval due to the font being hard to read. like a book, she's hard to understand. you'd have to be reading her first pages for you to grasp her fully, and stay even when the pages seem to be ripping itself apart; stay until her last page, and she'll remain until yours. together, you'll make a new book of your own, and make sure to never let the readers reach the ending. it's non-existent, annabeth is sure of it.

you don't know if it's because percy jackson was the son of Poseidon or not, but his presence feels the same way as warm water hugging your body, giving tingles all over your skin. after a long day, a warm shower is just what you need; once percy sees his lover look exhausted, he immediately thinks of ways to take care of them. warm showers always helped; like percy, it'd hug your body, wash away all the "filth" off your figure. like warm showers, percy kisses the things that you deem ugly on your body, and his words "wash" away your insecurities.

like frank zhang, the gentle flicker of a scented candle calms your every nerve, just like the small whispers you and frank exchange secretly. scented candles may melt away, but its' scent lingers, staying with you until its' very last breath. frank wishes to do the same, just like a scented candle. he wants to be around you, filling your environment with his presence. would you be willing to be the light to his candle, one day?

piper mclean's embodies the essence of a cup of herbal tea flawlessly. just like the soothing warmth and comforting scent of herbal tea, the daughter of Aphrodite emits a calming presence, wherever her feet brings her. whenever you pour out your heart, her empathetic gaze reflects your emotions like ripples on a small pond. in her presence, you feel engulfed by a sense of serenity, as if every worry melts away like sugar dissolving in hot water. and just like a cup of herbal tea, piper leaves you feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, with just her mere words of affection, only catered towards you, only.

roses are gorgeous, and their sharp thorns protect their bloom, piercing through anyone's skin with ease. hazel levesque is someone you'd see as a rose. together, you and hazel create a tapestry of shared experiences, each moment acts like a delicate petal adding depth to your connection. like a rose's thorns, the daughter of pluto harbors hidden strength underneath her freckled figure. her words keep shining through adversity like the vibrant hues of a rose in full bloom. most of those words contain the promises she had given you. just as a rose brings color and fragrance to the world, hazel brings light and warmth to those around her, especially to you, her dear lover.

leo valdez's little acts of affection give the same feeling of a warm, weighted blanket. well, the son of Hephaestus himself acts like a blanket sometimes; his body naturally eradicates the cold temperature. weighted blankets don't get pushed away too easily, and leave a lingering feeling of their weight once you remove them from your body. like a weighted blanket, leo valdez doesn't allow you to push him away. no matter what you're saying; as long as leo's around, your words don't ever fall on deaf ears. his words linger in your mind, and they're always sickeningly sweet.

jason grace's arms offer you the same, if not, better protection of a shield. jason stands tall and resolute, similar to the shields you'd see in the armory. his presence itself is a sturdy shield; sure, you may not see it, but you can feel it shielding you from the harsh blows of life's battles whenever he is around. just as a shield provides a sense of security in the midst of chaos, his presence anchors you into a calm sea. like a shield, he is willing to hold your hand no matter the place or time, and his heart of steel melts into your presence, pouring its' contents shamelessly.

if moonlit nights were a person, nico di angelo is a perfect example. like the soft glow of the moon, the son of Hades provides a quiet and steady presence, offering solace with his calm demeanor. he holds your hand, playing with your fingers while you ramble about your daily life. the midnight sky would be the grass of the spot you guys secretly claimed at camp; the same way the moon does, nico rests in the midnight sky, knowing he'll wake up in your arms, his one and only star; the one that stays with the moon.

will solace's smile is brighter than a sunrise whenever he's with you. his lips slowly curl up, until his mouth successfully turns into a toothy grin. like a sunrise, the blond never fails to remind you that every day is a new start; a new beginning. you don't need to do anything drastic to fulfill yourself. because everything restarts the moment the sunrise appears. maybe it was because he was the son of Apollo, or for another unknown reason. all you knew was that like sunrises, will solace never fails to greet you early in the morning and give you cheeky, little kisses filled with love; dripping from his very heart.

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Here I am with summoning headcanons for the first ghouls told through Chain (my beloved). I'm pretty happy about this one, actually !

"Why d'you wear it ?"

Chain blinks slowly, lazily turning their head to look at Phantom, sprawled on the worn rug next to them.

The new kid is cute, they decide, a bit of a lightweight, so they stopped smoking a while ago. His cheeks are flushed purple, big stary eyes glazed over, a sweet little smile never leaving his lips.

Chain almost forgets they were asked a question, until Phantom tugs a bit more insistantly on the heavy chain looped around their waist. They hum.

"'s a lucky charm, stickbug."

Phantom tilts his head with a confused noise, wiggling closer until he can rest his head on Chain's chest. The water ghoul runs fingers adorned with bone tattoos on the skin of the young quint's arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.

"Y'know I was the first water ghoul summoned after the mess Nihil's ghouls were, right ?"

Phantom nods, tail swaying lightly.

"Well," Chain hums, "back then, summonings were messy. And now, with how much damage Nihil's ghouls had done, the Clergy was afraid. Everytime they summoned a ghoul, they found new reasons to be afraid."

Phantom shifts, reaching up to follow the glowing stripes under Chain's jaw with the tip of his fingers.

"Like what ?"

Chain sighs, thinking back to their very first pack.

"Most of them were ancient, powerful ghouls. 'Mega was the first...I mean, you've seen him. He's big. Sure, Earth and Air are taller, but there's that thing 'bout 'Mega, y'know ? Some kind of...aura or shit. Maybe it's the quintessence, dunno. Anyway, he spooked them real good, and Alpha didn't make it better."

Phantom wrinkles his nose.

"Uh oh. Alpha's spookier than Omega."

Chain can't help snorting at that.

"He's got a shit temper and an ego the size of a planet. Fought Omega the second he slid of the altar. Got messy real quick - that's were he got the scars on his cheek and on his stomach, and 'Mega has matching ones on his thigh, burn marks on his ribs too."

With a little gasp, Phantom pushes himself up on his elbows.

"Really ? But they're....really close."

Phantom's surprise is understandable. Omega and Alpha are pratically joined at the hips now, evolving around each other with an ease speaking of intimacy. Chain hums.

"Well, yeah. Suprisingly, once Omega made Alpha eat shit, it didn't take long for them to get along. I guess they just had a rocky start."

"Understatement."

That sets Chain off, somehow, and it takes a long while before they can speak again without being interrupted by their own giggles.

"And after that, Air and Earth were summoned. You've seen them. Fucking trees, the both of them. Looming above everyone. Air traumatized the poor summoners by screeching so loudly he made some eardrums burst. And Earth, well. Spat out blood and guts everywhere - not his fault they summoned him right after a successful hunt."

Rolling on top of them, Phantom pushes his forehead against Chain's, pawing at their shoulders absent-mindedly.

"And you ?"

Closing their eyes, they can still picture it perfectly. The dim candle-lit room, the smell of incens and fear, the anxious whispers, the rough stone of the altar under their naked skin. And that familiar clinking sound.

"Well, I was the last of Primo's original ghouls to be summoned. And by that point, the Clergy was rightfully pissing their pants. So, the second I crawled out of the pit, they threatened to chain me if I showed any sign of agression. I guess they didn't expect for me to find their shiny chain really cool."

Phantom blinks at them in disblief.

"You...thought the chain looked cool."

Shrugging, Chain ruffles the quint's hair with a huff.

"Y'sound awfully judgmental. Yes, I thought it looked cool. Hopped off the altar, took it from them, sniffed it a few time and decided it was mine. Been wearing it ever since - and got my name out of it."

They stare at each other for a second before dissolving in another fit of giggles. It feels good, Chain decides, spending time with the newer ghouls, telling them stories of before they were summoned and watching their incredulous reaction.

"You," Phantom pants in between chuckles, "are the least serious ghoul I've ever met."

"Part of my charm."

Phantom laughs again, and Chain doesn't realize they're purring until the quint joins in.

[all-pacas]

do you think he went back to a photoless apartment after cameron?

First of all, how dare you,

-

"What do you think of this?" Cameron asks thoughtfully, picking up a decorative pillow from a staged living room.

The pillow is beige and uninteresting. "It's nice," Chase lies. She glares and he raises his eyebrows. "What am I supposed to say? It looks like a pillow."

Cameron puts it back on the couch. Chase is no stranger to IKEA, but when he's come here before, he'd beelined for the warehouse section and gone home. It's kind of fun to look through the fake apartments in the show room, but Cameron keeps getting distracted by the most boring crap.

Cameron grabs some pillowcases from a bin and tosses them into their little cart. "Your apartment sucks."

"It does not," he protests, knocking the cart lightly into her side. It doesn't. It can't, because she's moving in — which is exciting, even thrilling, and also terrifying. Cameron's idea, of course. All else aside, his apartment was bigger. When she'd suggested they buy decor together, make it feel like ours, he knew it was mostly her excuse to get rid of his old posters and some of his rattier furniture, but… Ours.

Like she meant it. Like she was absolutely serious and wanted to be with him. For real. So obviously he'd agreed. All the decor she wants. Throw out all his furniture if she wants, he doesn't care —

But all these throw pillows really do just look exactly the same.

They — Cameron — pick out some more pillows. Some knick-knacks, a blanket, new curtains, tablecloths, some art prints so abstract they're essentially just streaks of color, and candles. In the live plant section Cameron finds some potted palms and ferns; Chase finds some sweets in the food shop and eats them as he watches. They load up his car and she drags him to the West Elm shop in the mall next, for more expensive art prints and bedding and still more pillows.

-

Cameron is working three days on, three days off right now, so for the next week he keeps coming home to a different apartment: pillows everywhere, curtains hung, new dishes and silverwear and bedding. Flowers appear in planterboxes for the first time. New books crowd the shelves. Ridiculous as it all is, it is pretty nice, and maybe she does have a point that it's cozier. "If you wait until this weekend, I could actually help you," he points out one evening.

"I don't mind," she says cagily, coming back to the sofa with wine (in new glasses. That look exactly like his old wine glasses, but she insists are better.)

"You don't mind, or you think I'd mess it up?" he asks, and Cameron grins mischievously, and he almost ruins all her fancy new pillows when he pulls her closer for a kiss, wine glass and all.

The photos appear last of all. Cameron's diplomas framed on the walls, a family picture on one of the nightstands, another in the living room. On her urging, Chase digs out the half dozen photos he'd brought to the States with him when he'd moved: she picks through them carefully and he watches anxiously, waiting for her approval. One is of him and his mum when he was eight and she was sober, her arms around his shoulders as they both beam: Cameron has it framed and puts it next to her family photo on the living room table.

Last are glossy photos pinned to the fridge. In one he's wearing sunglasses and she's laughing. In another they're posing a bit too formally, self conscious and childish. A photobooth strip that starts serious and dissolves into silliness. A candid of him he doesn't recognize at all that makes him worry he always looks that serious: a picture of Cameron looking self conscious and grinning at the beach. He stands in front of the fridge for quite a while, taking it in. He hadn't known they had so many pictures.

-

The door closes behind her. He can hear the sound of her suitcase as it recedes down the hall. He is waiting to feel -- something. Anything. Finally he thinks he should drink a glass of water, not because he is thirsty but because it is something to do.

There are photos on the fridge, and pillows on the couch, and a box of unsorted wedding photos on the coffee table. Chase drinks cheap scotch and stares into space and eventually crawls into a bed made up with still more useless pillows.

She eventually sends for her diplomas and family photos. It takes him weeks to throw out the rest.

[ilovefandoms]

Alastember - day 10

modern AU headcanons for Alastair's birthday party based on this post I made for edit week

Alastair, Ari, Eugenia and Grace are roommates

Thomas is tasked with keeping Alastair out of the apartment since early morning so Ari and Eugenia could decorate the apartment, while Grace baked a birthday cake and other various desserts

They didn't know if they should invite the Merry Thieves but Grace was bringing Kit and Cordelia asked if she could bring Lucie and James so they said "fuck it" and invited Matthew as well

Thomas takes him out for breakfast

Alastair is suspicious (and a little bit sad) because everyone texted him happy birthday but no one tried to make plans to see him

Alastair and Thomas walk around London after breakfast, Thomas sees Alastair eyeing a polaroid camera and buys it for him ("you already paid for breakfast" "can't I just spoil my beautiful boyfriend on his birthday?")

They go to Thomas’ apartment to grab a picnic basket he prepared for them to eat lunch

They have their picnic in a park, Thomas takes a picture of Alastair with the polaroid camera

During their picnic Sona facetimes Alastair so her and Zachary can wish him a happy birthday

After lunch, Eugenia texts Thomas that he can take Alastair back to the apartment

Everyone hides when Thomas texts that they're entering the building

When Alastair opens the door, they jump out to scream "Happy birthday!"

Everyone takes turns using his new polaroid camera to take pictures of the party

It started as a dance party (courtesy of Ari’s carefully curated playlist) and quickly dissolved into a board game party

Matthew, Kit and Cordelia started a game of Uno, and the rest of the party slowly joined them each round until the last round when everyone was playing (Kit won that last game)

Lucie and James got into fight because Lucie put a +4 for James when he only had 1 card left

After that, they decided to switch to playing jenga and cards

Alcoholic drinks were kept to a minimum for Matthew’s and Alastair’s comfort

Almost at midnight they sang happy birthday to Alastair and he blew out the candles in his cake (“don’t forget to make a wish!” Cordelia said) (Alastair rolled his eyes but silently wished for more birthdays like this)

Everyone complimented Grace on the desserts she made

The night ends with them singing karaoke by pulling up karaoke videos with lyrics from youtube

Thomas stays the night, the next morning, Alastair wakes up first and starts looking for an empty spot in his walls where he can place all the pictures from the day before

@alastair-appreciation-month

[breakerrhexis]

A Dream for A Dream: CHAPTER FOUR .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. "And I sound like an infant Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moon And I look unstable Gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table A greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait I'm so afraid I sealed my fate." - the prophecy, taylor swift .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Around me, there was blood and fire. Shadows crept up to me from the edges of the trees, slithering up and around my ankles, tethering me to the ground, drowning me in their darkness. 

Devilish eyes the color of the sun stared at me from the trees, their grins glinting sharp and bloody. A final scream tore through me when invisible hands touched me…

And I woke, startled, punching a face hovering in front of me. 

But the face dissolved into a cloud of mist with a ghostly gasp, my fist slicing through empty air. Frightened, I tried to flee from the room but tripped on the hem of my dress, crashing face-first onto the floor with a cry. The searing pain and intense embarrassment washed over me as I flopped onto my back, tenderly nursing the throb in my nose.

The words from my nightmare echoed like a haunting refrain.  ‘You think you can fight me, but what’s the use? He can’t save you…’ 

When I shut my eyes, I could see the massacre all over again: Astarion's crimson eyes bled as he gazed at me, his skin beginning to smolder, flesh turning to ashes. 

Cold bitterness twisted within me, like icy fingers clawing at my heart, and tears slipped from my eyes.

The gentle touch of a breeze on my cheek took me by surprise, and I couldn't help but gasp as my eyes shot open.

An ethereal mist hovered above me. When it spoke, its voice echoed like several voices in an endless chamber. “Did Mim scare you?” it whispered.

I rubbed the tears from my eyes and blinked at the mist, a bit shocked. I’ve seen weirder things, but it was rather unexpected to be talking to a ghostly cloud. 

“Pretty girl is scared. Mim wanted to help,” the mist whimpered. 

"It's okay," I reassured Mim, the ghostly mist, with a small but wobbly smile. "You just startled me, that's all."

“Pretty girl was having a bad dream,” Mim muttered. 

I nodded, and Mim let out a sad sigh. 

“Mim remembers the bad dreams. Mim can’t dream now.”

“How lucky,” I joked through a sniffle, and the mist shivered. 

A brief silence hung between us. I still lay on the floor, too drained to stand.

“Pretty girl is pale elf’s lover?” Mim innocently asked.

“Gods, no!” I laughed. “We’re friends, I think.”

Mim hummed, "When the pale elf returned, he would sing a song." Mim twirled around me. "Mim watched, scared. Mim wanted to comfort the pale elf, but he was angry and lonely. Mim understands."

I gazed at Mim with a furrow in my brow. "Astarion? Are you certain?"

“Mim knows all,” the mist said. “Mim knows what haunts pretty girl and scary elf…”

Mim continued, “Mim likes pretty girl, so Mim will tell pretty girl this…” Mim hovered closer to my face, its cold, disembodied breath freezing the tip of my nose. The several voices dropped to a lower octave, muttering, “You run, you hide, but can’t escape. The binding threats of our cruel fate. Through dreams, I slink. In shadows, I creep. And I roam the night while mortals sleep. What am I?” 

In a blink, Mim vanished into thin air.

I crawled to my knees and looked around, desperation almost twisting my neck. “Mim,” I called for the ominous mist, but I was met with silence. I shivered, noticing the flames in the fireplace snuffing out to their near end, and the sun behind the white-lace curtains set to dusk.

You run, you hide, but can’t escape…

I rushed to look for some paper and ink and found some on a desk in the corner of the room. I lit the small candle and hurriedly dipped the feather into the black liquid, disregarding the ink droplets staining the wood. I wrote with feverish madness, wrist shaking with slight tremors, and hoped I didn’t miss a single word Mim said. The binding threats of our cruel fate… 

Once I finished, I stared at the black scrawl on the paper and tried to make sense of the riddle. Through dreams, I slink. In shadows, I creep. And I roam the night while mortals sleep…

What are you?

“Mim?” I whispered in a final hopeful attempt.

Silence.

I sunk into the chair with a sigh and shook my head. More questions upon questions. Will there ever be an end to this madness? 

It seemed I managed to sleep for a few hours, at least. I didn’t feel as recharged as I’d hoped, but the aching throb behind my eyes was gone. All I had to do was answer the riddle, protect Astarion, and rid myself of the blood-thirsty monster before it slaughtered everyone I loved.

Easy enough. I defeated an Elder Brain and the Chosen of the Three Dark Gods. This was like a stroll in the park, right?

A knock broke me from my reverie. A timid human maid with short, blunt brown hair slowly pushed the door open and bowed. “Dinner is served, m’lady.” 

As if reminded of the existence of food, my stomach rumbled.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The brown-haired maid led me to the dining hall where Astarion sat regally at the end of a long table, casually sipping crimson wine. With an imperious flick of his wrist, the maid scurried off, her head bowed so low it almost looked painful.

I stared after her with a deepening frown. “Why is she so frightened?”

“Humans,” he replied, his voice dripping with disinterest, waving his hand dismissively as if swatting away an annoying insect. 

I raised an eyebrow, my hands landing on my hips. “Excuse me?”

Astarion sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Must everything be a confrontation?”

“Why is she scared, Astarion? Are you harming them?”

He took a deliberate sip from his glass, his red eyes locking onto mine with an unsettling intensity. “Only if there’s a need.” He gestured to the seat beside him with a languid, yet commanding motion. “Sit.”

“Do you hurt them?” I scowled.

He slammed his glass down with such force it nearly shattered. “What I do with them does not concern you.”

I ground my jaw, my voice dropping to a tense whisper. “Then tell me you don’t.”

Astarion’s dangerously intense gaze studied me from across the room, his eyes flickering with unintelligible secrets. He could lie. He could set me on fire or cast me out. The power hung at his fingertips yet he hesitated, torn between a softness lethal as his hatred.

Without breaking eye contact, Astarion responded in a whisper as soft as mine, “I do not harm them.”

"Promise?" I murmured. Astarion's white lashes fluttered shut for a second, his pain visible across his face. I wondered what he fought within him, what vicious hatred forced him to act so cruelly at times. I wondered if he’d let me in once again, help him soothe the ache.

“Don’t…” He faltered. As he opened his eyes, the softness was gone, replaced by the same distant shell of his former self. I desperately tried to read him, but he seemed miles away, lost in his thoughts. “I assure you I don’t harm them, but recently, there have been numerous attempts on my life. I’ve been forced to take extreme actions.” 

I slowly nodded. “I believe you.”

“I don’t need you to believe me,” he bit back, harsher than before.

“And that’s fine,” I responded cooly. “Just know I do.”

Astarion’s glare deepened.

I returned the glare with a tired smile. The nightmares seemed to be desensitizing me to the intimidating vampire before me. After all, there were worse things than a flamboyant rogue who fancied himself a king.

I slid into the chair beside Astarion, my movements deliberate, and placed the piece of paper with the riddle in front of him.

His anger slowly melted as he stared at it. “A love poem, darling? How sweet,” he mocked, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. 

I huffed through my nose, trying to contain my frustration. “No, it’s a riddle. I think it’s a clue about the creature in my dreams.”

“And how did you come about—” he waved his glass dismissively “— this riddle?” 

“A ghost.”

“A ghost?” He repeated, slowly, his disbelief palpable. 

I nodded, resolute. “Mim.”

“Mim, the ghost… are you well? Is the lack of sleep finally eating away at your brain?”

“No, Astarion. My brain is perfectly intact. I was woken from another nightmare by this strange mist, and it recited the riddle before vanishing.”

Astarion picked up the paper, his eyes scanning the words. He read aloud, “’You run, you hide, but can’t escape. The binding threads of our cruel fate. Through dreams, I slink. In shadows, I creep. And I roam the night while mortals sleep. What am I?’” He hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip. “Sounds like a devil to me.” 

“Could be. Or not.” I shrugged, trying to mask my worry. “I’m telling you this because I think it may be important. In my dream, you were dead. Everyone around me was. I don’t know if it was a threat, a promise, or a bluff, but it felt real. Too real.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned back in his chair. “I died?”

I nodded, the memory sending a chill down my spine. “He said you can’t save me. That it was useless.”

“Well, darling, that’s almost cute,” he laughed, a sharp edge to his voice. “There is nothing I cannot do now.” 

His sudden fire ignited a spark of resolve within me, almost soothing the uncertainty with his confidence. 

“It won’t hurt us,” Astarion assured as he casually sipped his wine like he weaved the threads of fate itself. Like it’d be fun to see it try, futile in all its attempts to harm the power-hungry vampire.

His arrogance, usually a minor annoyance, oddly comforted me in the situation. I longed to have the same confidence to control my fate, but every time I made a decision, it seemed to lead to another disaster. That's how it felt when I looked at Astarion, unintentionally allowing my suppressed emotions to surface.

“Eat,” he commanded, gesturing to the plate in front of me that I had barely noticed. I picked up my fork and began to eat, the tension between us lingering in the air.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Author's Note:

my brain is goop and i've forgotten that sunlight exists.

i desperately tried to write more but for some reason it js wasnt hitting like i wanted it to hit so a (hopefully) longer part 5 will be up tmr or monday.... if it hits idk. not edited.

[titanicfreija]

A Hunter

"You ready for this?"

Yol had become accustomed to Three's tones, if not her words, and sat at attention to watch carefully.

Three, once satisfied, cast her super as slowly as she could, trying to remember how she did it when she was a kid. Gotta let it swallow you so you can swallow it, but she didn't want to tell anyone else that.

~

The Void enveloped the Hunter and she drew it into herself to create the massive longbow and she fired it into the top of a statue maybe fifty meters off.

Yol leapt to her feet and chattered excitedly, pointing at the tethers, then at herself.

"Yep!" Three declared.

The Acolyte chattered as the Void started at her hands and dripped like plasma, then grew and spilled up her arms and over her head, but it stopped short of her legs, and when she tried to form the weapon in her hands, it fell to pieces, leaving a javelin-sized arrow in one hand until it also dissolved.

Three looked at her without moving, but she sheepishly kicked at the ground and turned away.

"No, no, that was great, that was a great first try!"

"It wasn't our first," said Jinx. "But she always tried a spear before."

"That's arcstriders, the wizard magic," she said for a Jinx to translate. Yol grunted her agreement and pooled the black plasma into her hands again. Three held her hands wide, shrugging, not knowing how to help with that.

Yol dropped the plasma and sat heavily, panting. Three watched in surprise, checked for surrounding dangers, then realized that Yol was completely exhausted. Jinx hovered close and Yol swatted at her as they chatted back and forth. Three, in her effort to be polite, turned to sit on the edge of the wall where Freija had lain to nap.

"Hey, we can't keep going," Jinx said after a minute. "Do... Do you guys know how to help? It's not the first time."

"Rest up. Eat well. I don't know if Hive eat...."

"Uh... Yes."

"Other Hive?"

"... Sometimes."

Three didn't move an inch or respond at all besides a simple, "Yup."

"It isn't her fault," Freija mumbled at her, sitting up.

"Nope," agreed Three grumpily, but she lifted her voice for Jinx and Yol. "Tell you what, if this is a good spot for you, I can come back in a couple days. Don't do anything except hunt to eat, and only if scavenging is off the table. Scavenge if you can."

Yol looked at Three as Jinx's translation rattled through, and she grunted, then turned to Jinx. They went back and forth for a while, then Jinx turned back to Three. "Noon tomorrow, noon the next day, return at noon after that?"

"Noon means midday?"

"Technically, this place doesn't have night and day," Jinx explained. "So I rounded to the days on Fundament, which are slightly longer than Earth, but you should be able to round the measurements."

"Yeah, close enough."

Yol groaned quietly and hauled herself bodily to her feet before she staggered and nearly fell. Freija ran to help. She let Yol lean on her while Jinx led the way to a small doorway and a tiny lit room beyond. Three hadn't even noticed.

The Titan practically carried the exhausted Acolyte, dwarfed by the chitinous frame, even as she lowered the Guardian to a long bench padded with a nest of loose foliage and matted branches and vines. Three peeked in to see small jars and collected weaponry and statuettes lined against the wall, too, under the green-flamed candles.

Well, that's painfully familiar.

Three groaned at herself, disgusted by empathizing with this monster, but... Freija was right. Hive or not, they're Risen, too. Guardians, Lightbearers, whatever, cursed just like the rest to navigate an impermanent world and get shot at. And this one was pretty obviously a Hunter.

Freija didn't talk much more with Jinx, but she did cover the Acolyte with a scrap of blanket out of what might have been instinct. Yol seemed confused but understood the gesture to be kind, and she grunted her thanks, wadding it up to play support for unsupported, inflexible limbs.

No door could be closed, so Freija simply stepped sideways immediately out to give privacy, and she nearly collided with Three, who narrowly slipped backwards.

They stayed quiet, not even whispering through comms. They kept their silence even as they entered orbit and allowed themselves to drift loose around Mars, lingering while Three marinated in her thoughts on what it really meant to be a Hunter.

~

Helping

The Hive Hunter

Yol Asks Again

Three Says No.

Three reaches out

Nightstalkers

Tests

Hunters <-

Burn Bright

[smokedgastropod]

listen up, i need to tell you about my favourite category of sweets in poland - cemetary candy.

on all saints day, next to graveyards stand stalls offering sweets that aren't in the store. they aren't even made in a factory. there's also stuff like flowers and grave candles, but the candy is unique and! dependent on the region. you can sometimes find these stalls also during religious hollidays, but not the main ones - the more local and minor kind.

i'm from the south of poland, so i'll start with "trupi miodek" also known as "turecki miodek" which you could translate as "corpse candy" or "turkish candy". i doubt turkish people would recognize it as such though:

it's a hard caramel sweet, usually the flavour of vanilla, honey or almond, that's f-cking smashed with a hammer and sold in plastic baggies. is it good? i can't say. nostalgia blinds me, so probably it's not that great. (it's mostly sugar! hard sugar!). often sold with nuts in the package. the stall usually offers off-brand m&ms as well.

now, a bit up north, around warszawa (warsaw) you can find "pańska skórka" which translates as "noble/lord's skin" and looks like this:

also quite cheap and made primarily from sugar and egg whites, but the texture is different. you can't see this, but it's actually quite big and really hard at first, so you can't speak as you eat it. then it get's softer and is easily moldable, and kinda similar to dissolving chewing gum. usually flavored with vanilla, strawberry or apple.

around poznań you can find these bad boys:

these have three names cuz why stop at one? they're "rury" ("pipes"), "dachówki" ("roof tiles") or "trąby" ("trumpets"). they're crunchy and a bit like gingerbread. haven't tried them, poznań is on my bucket list though!

time for lublin and these:

they're called "szczypki" which comes from the word "szczapki", meaning thin and long pieces of wood used when lighting a fire. as with others, it's made with sugar, but also egg whites, gelatine, starch and water. they're similar to others on this list in terms of flavour.

there's also obwarzanki *odpustowe*:

you can find them anywhere, but they're technically a warsaw treat. now i'll be honest, i don't really like them, they're hard, usually dry and leave crumbs everywhere. not to be confused with obwarzanki *krakowskie*:

which are available in kraków and surrounding areas (which are also called an obwarzanek! because that area is round in shape! how cute!) year round. they're awesome, come with sesame seeds, poppy seeds, salt, cheese or a spice blend with paprika. they're a better pretzel, don't fight me on this.

a honorable mention goes to "misie bezowe" ("meringue bears"):

now those are technically made by an actual company and not by... just normal people in personal kitchens? as i said, cemetary candy isn't made commercially. these bears are, and they're as far as i'm aware available all over poland, but mostly sold alongside the treats mentioned above. they are cheap, have a weird, kinda processed aftertaste, and the inside of this waffle isn't filled with meringue, but some?? white filling???? the waffle is bland as paper too. i find them very nostalgic, but i'm aware they're probably the sh-ttiest out of all of them.

thanks for your attention.

[that-one-cat-meow]

4. DYING BODY, LIVING SOUL

Fear. Stress. Confusion.

If you were Bendy, you'd feel the same, wouldn't you? After all... he is locked in an empty, dark room.

The cat didn't know what to do. Run away? Like where? What, is it supposed to make circles around its own axis? Call for help? The main rooms are miles away - only the souls surrounding him on every side will hear him. Though he couldn't see them, he felt an unpleasant warmth as the eyes of the spirits stared at his fur. He decided to take a look at his surroundings. There was a table here. And a candle! Something to light a candle? Nothing. Cards, jars of ink, cans of bacon soup, but nothing really useful...

A silhouette.

The silhouette that locked him here! What was it like? Such matted fur, it was brown in the light, a small scar under the eye, eyes with such bags and that deadly, heart-attack look of brown eyes ... and that malicious smile ...

Joey...

Joey Drew...

You'll pay me for this," Bendy growled. And then he saw it. That shadow of the cat that was in the room he was running past... it walked past him wagging it tail elegantly, but it wasn't a she-cat or anything...

It was a tomcat

And his name was Fang.

The ghost walked over to the candle, lit it by blowing on it, dissolving into the air. The room was blinded by light. There was a large puddle of ink next to one wall. The cat entered it, sinking his paws into.

One of ussss...

"I'm not one of you," Bendy hissed at the whisper.

You can't escape your destiny...

"I will escape any trap you set for me!" he continued.

"You don't understand, do you?"

Exactly eight gray ghosts with white eyes and mouths like the white face of a carved pumpkin appeared before him.

"What am I to understand?" The live cat took two steps back and ruffled its fur, looking at each of the ghosts.

"We, your servants, are faithful to you. You, our king, are above us all," said all the souls at once.

"W-what..."

"Hear the voice of God!"

"Let him catch you in his heavenly paws!"

"Let him say it's your destiny!"

"You are our savior!"

"You are a demon, firstborn son of ink."

"N-no! Bendy protested. Leave me alone! I am not your king! I am no savior!"

"Each of us died in suffering ... - a tiny kitty came forward.

"Hunger."

"Tired."

"From pain."

"For longing."

"Through torture."

"From stress."

"Protecting loved ones."

"Because we lived, we were condemned to death."

Bendy fell silent and stopped moving. A sharp hiss pierced the air. The souls fled when a tomcat appeared in front of Bendy and helped him light a candle.

"Give him time. And don't force anything." he snorted and turned to the tomcat "Are you okay?"

"Yes... r-rather yes..." replied the smaller cat, who was surprised to hear the voice of the mysterious figure. This ghost was quite tall, well built, had short light gray fur, and had a glitch effect on its body... it was a bit scary, and its voice was low.

"What do they want from me?" Bendy asked.

"As they said - they left in suffering and pain. They're looking for someone who can hear them, who can see... you answered their calls, so they probably thought you wanted to help them."

"I'd like to find help myself..."

"It's probably because of your powers that you're locked up here..."

"Can you see it like that?"

"Distraction, flying eyes, wiggling ears... Joey's not stupid. I had the opportunity to meet him in person... not a nice type of cat..."

"What is your name?"

The ghost looked at Bendy with a hint of amusement.

"It seemed to me that you already knew the answer to this question" the tomcat got up from the ground "My name is Fang. I used to live outside the studio but I died in it and I'm kind of trapped here..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Yeah... but at least I can go where living paws can't go."

"That is?"

Fang extended a paw to the smaller tomcat, and the latter caught it. The spirit opened a portal for them, and when they passed through it, they found themselves in a black abyss, with only white outlines of trees, grass, and here and there stones.

"Where are we?" Bendy looked around in wonder as Fang led him to the edge of the cliff.

There was no river of ink down there. There was a SEA of ink!

"Bendy... welcome to the Forest of Souls."

[latherlust]

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[ramandeepblogs]

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[daydreamingmoonpies]

 He draws a breath.

Where is he? A wave of dizziness nearly knocks him off his feet, the sudden light blinding him. He doubles over, a groan tumbling from his lips, his mind desperately grasping for purchase.

When the sensation finally fades he feels himself shiver. He's standing in a cold winter field, lines of frost coating the blades of grass, causing them to crunch under his feet.

He whirls around, finding someone standing calmly beside him. They have their hood pulled up, his coat and their hair flowing and swirling out in the chilled breeze.

“What are we doing here?” His voice is low, making him wince as he feels it hitting his ribs. 

They don't respond, only looking up towards the cool gray sky. He doesn't need to wait long to understand, a large meteor crashes in front of them, spraying snow several kilometers into the air. He feels fear rise in his chest, but he can't move, forced to be just as still as the figure at his side. 

They move forward through the crashing meteors, calm despite the debris around the pair dwarfing them both in size.

He blinks and he's at a cathedral, that person a little behind him. They're waiting, he realizes, and he opens the heavy door to see inside. It is small and dusty, empty, full of people, long abandoned, filled with life and art, swinging rosaries and glittering candles, and there are no decorations at all, a hollow building left alone to the threat of the harsh elements.

Something in his mind pulls him forward, planting him on his knees at a pew, pushing him to look as if he is praying. He must blend in, on his knees on hard wood, surrounded by others, he must blend in.

He hears the door creak but his eyes are shut, he can't look. A gloved hand brushes against pews, protecting a metal arm that traces the old wood. No heads raise, no person stops their mutterings.

The rosaries drip, dried flower petals fluttering down, crunching under their silent steps.

He finally sees the long train, a dress bleeding into the rouge of the carpet, that figure from before stepping to the priest. Still the preacher does not react, not even when they reach out their gloved hands into an almost loving embrace.

They whisper something and he now watches, hands all loosely clasped, eyes wide, as the priest trembles, tears brimming in their eyes. 

The figure reaches out again, properly embracing the crying priest, soft soothing hums filling the chilly air.

He watches as they lower the priest to the ground, now knocked out, going towards a large stained glass window. The train curls and bends around the aged podium, light slowly shining through the windows all around.

The figure pauses, gloves hands wrapping around theirself, gently brushing their arms. They seem to sigh, before they turn their head, eyes white and misty as they look right at him, their hand drifting to the glittering glass.

Something unfolds on their back, furling out, wrapped in glowing white light and the scattered colors of the glass-

The ground erupts, their body unfolding, until it all stands tall above him. The building is gone- no. It's still there. In the folds of their dress-like body, scattered glass that shines brilliant colors, and the people wrapped in, caught in mid prayer, now fast asleep. It looms above him, creaking with a sound like snapping bones and groaning trees. He can only watch as they clutch at their chest, hunching over in pain as branches burst through, littering their fine hair, ripping through the soft flesh of their shoulder blades, bending and curling as a gap opens in their chest, mimicking ribs to protect the glittering star that shimmers in the soft fleshy gap. It's weeping now, water pouring down its face like waterfalls, dissolving to mist as each teardrop approaches the ground. Its soot sculpted clawed hands loosen and it peers down on him, misty white eyes glowing like spotlights on its face.

The ground shifts and he stumbles, fear shooting through him as he realizes that this too is part of its dress, part of its body. It breathes, and the earth sighs, it moves and avalanches launch into action, a cacophony of silent prayers, of desperate wishes, of loud sobs, of joy granted, of hard work, of denouncing, of gratitude, all too loud yet all too silent, and yet he can hear them.

He can feel them.

The eyes, the tall figures that maybe reach half their height, one eye each as spotlights land on him. They loom, creaking slightly in the breeze. But they seem….warm. Sad, almost grieving, but warm, eyes trained on him.

They say something without their voice, something his heart understands. He is doubled over, he stands tall, he takes their hand, and he screams at them in rage. 

He falls to the ground, and they fall with him. They sit, small again like him, and they cup his cheeks.

They are scared.

Just like him.

He can feel their fear, their sorrow, their warmth, their rage, their happiness, their love.

They are both so viscerally human.

[moraypower]

Ah.

As funny as him obviously trying to pretend he knew what Splatsville was when he clearly didn't was, the mention from him of trying to look for a way to leave this city and go back home to his family made Frye's previously good mood fizzle and sputter out much like the flame of a completely burnt down candle, leaving an unusually bitter expression to take it's place instead.

Though, it was fairly obvious that the bitterness wasn't directed at Garet, even as she let out a long sigh and her shoulders slumped downwards.

"Yeah, about that... I've been trying to figure out how to leave this place for three months now myself. My crew doesn't know that I'm gone either, y'know? This isn't normally a SOLO act. So I'm sure they're worried about me, too..."

To her, there was no reason to beat around the bush with this topic. As much as having to explain all of this to yet another person sucked and hurt her almost as if she was the one that the news was being broken to all over again, avoiding it wasn't going to help anyone any, either. He'd find out one way or another no matter what, so... why not do it right now?

It felt kinder than letting the poor guy keep wandering around here without a clue, no matter how blunt she was about it. And besides, she had literally just offered to help him anyways.

Still, the sudden somber tone Frye's voice had taken on as she thought about Shiver and Big Man back at home yet again was pretty hard to miss.

At least he went right back to the topic of her show, which made her visibly relax somewhat, lips even curling up into the beginnings of a smile as she got ready to tell him about some of her easier to perform dances.

A smile that vanished again just as fast at the idea of him trying to teach her how to swim.

"Please DON'T. When I said us inklings can't swim in water, I meant that we DISSOLVE! But, um, I can still show you some dance moves! I'll even do 'em slowly so you can copy them better, too."

"Oh, duh, yeah, of course, SPLATSVILLE! It's gotta be SPLATSVILLE." He's not entirely sure why the momentum of her energy carried over to him so strongly, but it's also probably an attempt at trying to sound knowledgeable- not that he'd ever say that. "That was definitely my next guess!" His next 1,000,000,000th guess, absolutely! Phew! It's something of a relief to know she's not connected to the big, bad Kraken that'd come aboard the ship because, man, what an awkward conversation that'd be! Inklings, though... Who cannot swim... He nods despite still being stumped because she kinda looks like the merfolk, too? But no swimming? She said it like it's absolute, like it can't be taught... -Ack. So, it's obvious he's kinda just... dropped in! Well, that's probably okay for now... Rubbing at the back of his head in an attempt to straighten out his spikes, Garet nods sheepishly. "Uh, yeah, actually. See, I was trying to figure out how to leave? This place is cool and all, and I'll definitely come back for your next show! But, uh, I don't think my family knows I'm gone? They're probably worried, y'know? Just got done with a huge trip and I've got a little brother to torment, lost time and all." She seems like she knows a lot! He's so glad he managed to catch the show. "By the way, gotta say again, you were freaking awesome! Can you show me an easy move? And I can teach you how to swim!"

[willowfolksong]

half written goodbyes

- Atsumu Miya x Reader

- SFW

He comes home late that night, when you already put the cake back on the fridge and blew off the candles. You hear him yawn, and you know he's stretching his arms behind his back, and looking around confused, because you're not waiting for him on the sofa, sleepy but happy to see him come through the door.

"Babe?" he calls, to the empty living room.

You blink, and bury your head on the pillow to wipe your tears on it. Atsumu's footsteps come to halt on the doorstep, and you grip the covers tightly, biting your bottom lip "Babe, are ya sleepin'?"

You really want to say yes. You really want to. But then you would be failing to deliver the maturity you want, and the level of compromise you've been wanting to have in your relationship for a long time.

So you slowly sit down, pushing your hair behind your ears, and look at your boyfriend of seven years. Atsumu smiles, his whole face lighting up, and your heart skips a beat because you know. You know what you need to do. And yet, his eyes are enough to shake the foundations of everything you've been building in your mind for a while.

"How was practice?" you ask, resting your trembling hands on your lap.

Atsumu sighs, blissfully tired, and walks towards the bed "It was great! I'm drained"

"And how are the guys?" you ask again, and he shrugs, sitting down to take his shoes off.

"They're like usual, I guess. Omi was a bit under the weather today" he laughs, as if recalling something, and you watch him yawn again "But when isn't he?" then he's looking back at you, a little smirk dancing on his lips, his hair still plastered to his forehead from the sweat "Aren't ya gonna nag me for sittin' on the bed with my dirty clothes or somethin'? You're like Omi with this things"

You won't, because you're not planning to sleep on that bed anymore.

You clear your throat, and Atsumu must see something in your eyes, because his smirk slowly dissolves into a frown.

"I was waiting for you" you explain, looking at your hands. You open them and close them again, trying to find the words in your palms "I need to tell you something"

"We can go out to have dinner on Sunday" he hurries to say, and your eyes snap towards him because if he's saying that, all of the sudden, then he knows. He knows.

He didn't forget.

He knew.

"So you didn't forget?" you ask, and instantly feel stupid for doing so. Atsumu scratches the back of his neck and rounds the bed to sit beside you "You didn't forget my birthday?"

He chuckles, and grasps one of your hands between his. You don't squeeze back when he does.

"Of course I didn't forget"

"You weren't here"

"Ya knew I had practice"

"I'm not talking about today" you say, and he looks so confused that you almost take pity of him. But you have much more compassion for yourself at this point, and so you carry on "I'm talking about this past two years"

"I never forget your birthdays" he says, louder this time, and gives up on trying to hold your hand in favor of standing up and look at you in shock "I never forget anythin', babe. I thought ya knew that "

"I don't think I know anything anymore, honestly"

He's unable to do anything but watch you wide eyed, as you stand and take your gym bag from under the bed.

"Why are ya sayin' that?" he huffs, taking a step towards you and stopping sudenly, unsure "I don't know where all this is comin' from. I get home tired from practice and..."

"What home?"

"What?"

You purse your lips, staring intently at the bag where you previously stuffed all your belongings, or at least the ones you knew you didn't want to leave behind. You'll figure out the rest. Maybe one of your friends will help you.

"This isn't a home" you finally tell him, still not finding the courage to look at him in the eyes again. You grip the strap tight "This is your apartment. You're the one that lives here. I only come occasionally"

"What're ya talkin' about?" Atsumu asks indignantly, his voice taking a higher tone "This is our place!"

"Is it? I still have my appartment. I'm paying rent. You've never told me to move in with you" he opens his mouth to say something, but you keep talking before he can "And I thought that after spending some time with the MSBY Jackals we would talk about the future... about anything. I've never asked for much!" you yell, feeling the tears prickling on the back of your eyes "All this time we've been together, I've been happy with whatever you give me! Anything! I knew your dream was to be a volleyball player. I knew it would be hard, that you would be away a lot. That you would have a demanding work that would consume all your energy. But it's been seven years, and somehow... somehow I still feel like I'm just some random high school girl you could break up at any moment now"

Atsumu's eyes slide from you to the bag, to your knuckles turning white on the strap. He gets rid of the distance between you to stand right beside you. You still don't look up.

"What's in the bag?" he whispers, and you shake your head "What do ya have there?"

"And then..." you add, deflated "You sudenly stopped putting any effort. I would have rather you forgot my birthdays... instead of... just knowing and still..." you cut yourself short when Atsumu's hands gently pry yours away from the bag, opening it to reveal all your clothes and first necessity items.

He tenses, and then begins to stiffly bring out every piece of clothing, carefully placing it on the bed. You're already crying but the time you spring into action, and try to stop him.

"We'll leave all this here" he says, voice eerily calm, and wihout looking at you "We'll leave this here and... we'll go out to... to have dinner. Yes. Dinner. Let's just go, babe. We can talk there"

"Atsumu, I'm not going anywhere" you argue, but he smiles— a trembling smile that doesn't reaches his eyes "Atsumu!"

"It's fine" he continues, and you stop trying to push him away and just let your arms fall to your sides "We're just too tired. That's all. Ya don't know what you're sayin'"

"I know exactly what I'm saying"

He yells your name when you leave the room, and one of his hands is soon grabbing your arm and trying to drag you back with him.

"Do ya want me to apologize?" he says, enraged, his eyes tinted red, and the hand around your forearm won't bulge when you try to get rid of his grip "Is that what ya want? I had practice! Ya know how this things are! I thought ya understood!"

"I've had! For the past seven years! But there just comes a time when enough is enough and...!"

"Then why are ya bein' so inconsiderate and selfish?" he screams, and soon watches in horror as you take a step back from him, your eyes searching for something, anything on his face that can tell you that he didn't said that to you.

"I'll be staying with one of my friends, probably" you inform him in a soft voice, when you manage to swallow around the lump in your throat. Atsumu's hand slowly moves away from your arm, falling defeated by his side "I don't want to go back to my apartment alone"

"Please no" he quickly begs, desperately, all the color drained from his face "Please, don't do this. We can talk. I'm sorry"

"Atsumu..."

"I'm sorry" he says again, chuckling nervously and pushing his hair away from his face, while pulling slightly at the strands "I'm an idiot and I have a big mouth. Ya know that. I didn't meant... ya know how I am. Ya love me inspite that. Right?"

"Listen..."

"Ya love me" he tries again, voice shaking as much as the hands he decides to put in his pockets "Right?"

You do. Of course you do. You've known Atsumu Miya your whole life. You don't have a single memory without him; your past is filled with his laughter, his jokes and the touches you shared.

You just don't know if you can see your future like that anymore.

And the present has left you feeling nothing but cold.

"I do" you admit, trying to be as honest as possible. He exhales a shaky breath, but doesn't seems much better than before.

You gaze behind you, at the door, at the same time he turns around and goes to open the fridge.

Inside, untouched, sits the birthday cake you bought for yourself.

You watch him hold onto the door like his life depends on it "We can eat this" he whispers, and has to gulp before being able to continue "Just the two of us. Here on the kitchen counter"

"Atsumu, please..."

"I can..." he sniffs, and the watery laugh that follows tells you that he's now crying too "I can go to the store and buy some candles just... please don't leave"

"Maybe we can talk better tomorrow. When you have your rest and we both can think clearer" you offer, giving him and yourself the hope you've been slowly losing for the last years.

A couple of seconds later, you're moving robotically for the door, away from Atsumu's shaking back and the apartment you never completely felt like yours. One of your friends will lend you some clothes. You have more in your own place as well.

Your hand is hovering over the doorknob when you hear his voice again.

"I love ya" he says, a sob escaping his lips before he can stop it "You've ways been my home"

You know this isn't the end. You know him. Atsumu. He's different but still the same from when he first said he wanted to be your boyfriend. You know this is only the calm before the storm. That tomorrow he'll run to get you, that he'll plead and fight and won't leave you or your phone alone. You know he never goes down without a fight— in volleyball and in life.

And maybe, that's what you would like. A change. A fight. Some proof that this is still something worth missing birthday dinners for.

But for now, you close the door, and leave him to break down behind.

🧣 RED Love Story Collection

Part XXII - Red

[prince-simon]

prince simon's 18th birthday

it's tradition in the trastámara family to wake the birthday person up with singing happy birthday

his birthday is usually the one day that simon wakes up early bc he's so excited, he always pretends to sleep when linda and sara come into his room to sing

but very quickly he starts giggling uncontrollably and that's also when sara jumps on the bed and tackles him in a big hug

linda joins after they finish the song and they're just a big cuddle pile

then simon gets to unwrap sara's gift - which, as per tradition, is the craziest mug she could find. this years mug is a really cute one with a little frog prince sitting at the bottom of it

linda brings in the cake next and as simon's blowing out the candles she asks him "what did you wish for?"

simon replies "it's bad luck to tell!"

and linda grins at him and says "well if it is what i think it might be, your wish may be granted" and then she pulls out a key from her pocket with a cute little guardian angel keychain

"IS THAT-" simon screams, wide eyed gaze on linda

linda's smile widened at her son's obvious excitement, nodding in confirmation

"security gave the green light yesterday. it's all yours."

they'd been looking at an apartment in chueca two weeks prior that simon had absolutely fallen in love with AND IT WAS HIS NOW

simon threw his arms around linda, making her ears ring with his excited screaming before he scrambled out of bed to get dressed, wanting to go see the apartment right that moment even though he'd already seen it but now it was his and surely that was different

linda and sara manage him to have cake first before they can't rein in his excitement anymore and call a car to take them to chueca

by the time they arrive there, simon is bouncing, unable to sit still anymore

the apartment is going to be empty but it doesn't dim his excitement at all. he was gonna live on his own! in his dream apartment!

when he puts his (his!) key in the lock for the first time, his heart is beating wildly. linda takes a cheesy picture of it that shows simon with the widest grin imaginable

as they walk inside, they're suddenly greeted by screams of "SURPRISE!!" and "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" and simon dissolves into disbelieving laughter as he's greeted by friends and family

rosh and ayub are the first ones to hug him and yell in his ear in excitement and he jumps around with them giddily, next up are his aunts and uncles, then diego

on the kitchen island there's a buffet set up and people lounge about around a table and mismatched chairs that simon would have to get rid of once he had all the right furniture (he's had pinterest boards for exactly how he imagined his apartment to look like for ages) but for now it couldn't have been more perfect

the apartment is filled with music and laughter, people are chatting and dancing and simon thinks it's the perfect first day in his new home

it was the perfect birthday too surrounded by his family and closest friends and diego kissed him out on the balcony as the sun was setting until rosh and ayub interrupted them to pull them on the makeshift dancefloor