#the person wilting away is the one who called her beautiful

[venusinta]

“you're beautiful”

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: PART TWO

— part one

——

Harry doesn't want to let go. He hasn't been this close to you since what feels like a lifetime ago. After a grueling year of separation, considerate greeting hugs and instinctual touches that respect boundaries can't hold a candle to this moment. 

He can feel your heartbeat. The organ that once beat fiercely for him is now pounding against his own, its unsteady pulse fueling him with love. 

Who is he kidding? He has always loved you. Even when you screamed at him on the other line, poisonous words creeping into every crack of his heart, he still couldn't bear the thought of never having a place in your life again—even if that place wasn't beside you anymore. 

You told him you were proud of him a mere minute ago. It was a simple statement, but also a diminutive glance into your mind. What do you think about when you're pressed against him, aware of his hands on your back and the kisses left on your head? What feelings do they ignite? All Harry wants is to spread you open, lay your cards on the table—both the good and the bad ones—and just talk to you. He only sees you a handful of times a month, so the questions that have been piling in his throat beg to spill out. 

He fears his patchwork heart would also spill out onto the floor, and you'd see how miserably he's been coping. Mentally draining months were spent mending the broken relationship. Yet, the last and largest shard that couldn't piece it together again was the one that was simply the dying relationship itself. 

A year should be enough time to get over someone, but when that someone is his ex-wife and the mother of his beautiful child, he reminds himself that time never stops in moments of hurt. His personal life and career had to chug along even when the train constantly veered off the tracks. 

The regret he feels for not putting his family first kills him inside every time he opens your door to take his daughter for half a week. It's never enough time, and to see you for much less weighs heavily on his soul. The haunting supposition of being unable to notice every tiny detail about you one day is the nail in his coffin. He remembers opening the door a few months ago to find you with shorter hair. It shouldn't have affected him the way it did, and he couldn't help but think that you probably would've asked for his opinion on it if you were still together. 

He also hasn't kissed you or had sex with you in over a year. There have been no romantic dates or nights cuddled in bed, limbs tangled like the wilting vines of your love. He has not held your hand or watched you be a mother except for fleeting moments. He doesn't want those things with anyone else, so why can't you forgive him? Why can't you revive your love for him? 

Harry knows asking for a revival of love is irrational. 

"When do you need to be on stage?" Your voice reaches him, warm like melted honey and gentle like a balm that heals his wounds. 

"It doesn't matter," he says, fixing the twisted strap of your dress. "I can be a little late." 

You step away from the hug, and he feels an ache in his chest due to the loss of physical contact. "No, you can't." 

He tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Says who? It's my show." 

You narrow your eyes dubiously, but they slowly soften when they drift downward and take in his outfit. He'd be lying if he said he didn't plan a revealing outfit just because you were coming. 

"You look handsome."

Handsome. When was the last time you called him that? He can't remember, but the word sends a tidal wave of shivers rolling across his body. 

"Thank you. You look lovely, as always. How've you been?" 

"Fine. Work keeps me busy." Something nearby clatters to the floor, and you nod your head toward the culprit, who has a guilty expression. "Her too." 

"You're not overworking yourself, are you?" Harry asks. God knows he's seen you at your worst because of it. 

"Not as much as you. I still worry about you with all this traveling." 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets while moving closer to you. "Yeah? You worry about me?" 

You nod and look past his shoulder. He misses when you didn't shy under his gaze. "But the videos I see ease my worries. I know you're safe and having fun." 

He clears his throat and asks, "What videos?" 

There's a heavy lull of silence before you say, "Ones of you performing. They pop up on social media all the time. You're pretty famous if you didn't know." 

He ignores your teasing because he's grasping at straws, needing to know if you still keep up with him like he does with you. "And you watch them?" 

"Yeah," you say, nervously touching your earlobe. "It's hard not to with those outfits and how happy you look, you know?" You point to your daughter and add, "She loves to watch them too." 

Harry roughly swallows and curls his hands into fists. Your admission makes the ache in his heart grow tenfold. He never would have guessed. 

Someone suddenly knocks loudly on the dressing room door, making him flinch. "Harry, we need to start heading to the stage! Right now, preferably!" 

With a sigh, he heads over to the connected bathroom to grab his mic pack and in-ears, but not before crouching in front of his daughter. "Hey, Dad has to go," he tells her. "Gonna stay with Mama and watch me?" 

She nods and lifts her arms. He picks her up before setting her on his hip and swaying her. "Do I look okay?" he murmurs. 

"Mm-hmm," she hums, grabbing at the silk material of his vest. 

"Good." He kisses her forehead and then rests his own against hers. "I love you, all right? Dance your heart out for me." 

She impatiently squirms in his arms. He sets her down so she can play with the toys you brought, and then moves to quickly fix his hair in the mirror. He can already tell that tonight is going to be one of his favorite shows, and it has everything to do with the fact that his two favorite people will be in the audience.

After he puts his in-ears in, he shuts the bathroom light off and shakes his arms to get any remaining pre-show jitters out. He looks at you the entire time, watching you glance around his dressing room like it's an art gallery. All of his vulnerable belongings are out in the open and on display—his shirts you used to wear stuffed in his duffel bag, printed pictures of his daughter tucked into the mesh pocket of his suitcase, and a pack of diapers he had delivered earlier today in case you forgot or ran out. 

Most vulnerable, however, is his wedding ring sitting right next to the microphone that you're about to grab for him. It's the same ring he kisses every night before he goes on stage, never having gotten rid of it because it's one of the only things he has left of the love you once had for him. 

You freeze, your hand hovering over the microphone. The color drains from Harry’s face as he stands there, dreading your reaction. 

"Harry..." Your voice is weakened by a certain sadness that could break him if he let it. 

People gather in the room, trying to get him to start heading to the stage, but he's stuck in place. Paralyzed by fear. Everything is a blur around him, and all he can focus on is the shake of your hand when you pick up the damned ring that was cursed from the beginning. You set it in your open palm, then stare at him with a slightly parted mouth and confusion swimming in your eyes. 

Harry then makes a stupid fucking mistake. 

He rushes toward you, grasps your cheeks, and smears his lips over yours with pitiful desperation. His eyebrows pinch painfully, and he lets out a muted sob when you don't return the kiss. Your hands push against his chest, making him stumble back. 

There's no time to apologize since he's immediately being escorted out the door and down the hallway toward the stage. He wants to look back, but he knows the expression on your face will tell him all he needs to know. 

You don't love him anymore. 

——

[sencity]

yandere!botanist x gn!darling, pt. one . . .

˚₊ ꒰ nightmare fuel 𝄁︎ obsessive behavior, the calm before the storm.

˚₊ ꒰ word count 𝄁︎ 792.

˚₊ ꒰ key 𝄁︎ crossed out red texts indicate sencha’s thoughts. blue text indicate sencha’s messages. purple text indicate y/n's messages.

˚₊ ꒰ sen’s statement(s) 𝄁︎ you’re more than likely to find my oc’s information here along with the rest of them. sencha’s a rusted gem, so polish him up a bit before handling him for me, ‘kay?

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who is your next-door neighbor and a close friend sitting in his coniferous garden, plucking a bourbon rose while playing a silly little game of “she loves me, she loves me not” even though he’s received the “not” end a plethora of times. yet, he’s not letting up, believing that he needs to try different flowers causing her to sit in a pile of flower petal …

“they love me… they love me so not… they love me! i knew i just have to try harder to get them to understand…this is perfect! next step is buying them a ring one day!”

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who gives you different herbs for teas and restoratives daily in order to keep you healthy and nourished! because there’s no telling what pharmacists are putting in those lousy pills we call pain killers of yours. anything to keep you living for as long as…forever! …

“gingko can be used as antioxidants, but please don’t take too much, okay? actually, i’ll divide them into perfect amounts. i’ll make sure that you’re never ever sick, bee…”

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who studies plants and flowers to the point where he lacks so much sleep just to perfect bouquets for you. he’s up taking the time to tell you each and every individual meaning and fact behind each flower and why it reminds him of you. heliotropes to symbolize his eternal devotion towards you, amaranths to immortalize his love for you, and calla lilies to represent your magnificent beauty.

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who also plants your favorite fruits and vegetables, don’t wanna get poisoned ones from grocery stores, they could be contaminated and make you sick! (even though part of him wishes for it to happen so he has an excuse to take care of you).

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who tears up at the sight of your excitement when you planted a flower of your own in a garden he built just for you. the bud was emerging from the soil and seeing you geeking over the fact that your flower was actually growing made his heart swell up with pride and mental adulation. word on the street says if he ever feels gloomy, he thinks about that moment and falls asleep with the biggest smile on his face.

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who is easy to please. a pat on the head washes away his frantic mind. a kiss on the cheek causes him to short circuit and never wash away the area on his cheek you’ve kissed. a simple thank you and the slightest smile makes his stomach do backflips, stammering over his words before he simply just closed his mouth and nodded frantically, his body bursting with tingles that feels like butterflies in the breeze.

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who gets very slick-mouthed and petty when you invite someone over and you don’t have time for him. you would think you would get used to his mouth, let alone him getting used to you being around other people, and yet he still behaves in such a way, and somehow he gets more blunt …

“flower boy, where are your cups?”

“oh? they’re really lame did the person you chatted with not have any? how could they not find y/n the tallest glass in the world?”

“if they did, i wouldn’t have asked you.”

“they seemed to have pretty big cups, honey… ones that you couldn’t keep your eyes off o-”

“ALRIGHT.”

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who does/shows you everything for your validation and approval because without it he’s wilting in despair. he worked so hard on his flower pressed portrait and surprised you with it with the happiest (yet hopeful) smile. he, once again, leaped joyously when you beamed and praised him, giggling while hiding his face behind the painting, which caused only his blushed ears to be the star of the scene.

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who has a personal notebook that pertains to you and questions he wants to ask you when he finally has the courage to. he writes in it especially when you’re around to remember and study all the things you tell about yourself; it just looks like he’s studying another flower, but instead coming up with more ways to please you and learn all about you.

☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! whose heartbeat was the only thing he could hear when your first flower you planted was the one he gave to you as a welcoming to the neighborhood. a potted marigold which you gifted him blithely and nostalgically. you then burst into laughter when he began with the waterworks, awwing him when he embraced you so suddenly, your feet lifting from the ground during the process …

“y-you’re the absolute kindest! thank you so much, y/n… you’re really a godsend… no, i’m being sincere! they’re so clueless it’s so cute i mean… just look at you! i wouldn’t want anything else in the universe, not even life itself…not a single flower…”

© all rights reserved 𝄁︎ sencity. plagiarism will not be tolerated on this blog but addressed and chastised accordingly.

[miamochi-writes]

Hello! I saw you had requests opened and was wondering if I could bother you for a Vash x Reader? I was thinking of something small where they comfort each other after they both wake from their nightmares at the same time. Hope this isn't too vague! Love your writing!

A/n: Hi! You can always bother me for a Vash x reader! Also thank you for asking this! I know you asked for something small, but I got too into this 😅 I'm so sorry this took long! I finally recovered from my cold. I kinda added some angst but I promise there's still fluff and comfort scenes to this. Also this is my longest fic with 2.7K words! Hope you like it!

Silver Lining

Vash found himself in a beautiful garden surrounded by geraniums. The sunlight’s warmth adorned his face. He was resting by an enormous tree that provided enough shade from the sun. All was right with the world for the space cowboy. That was until Vash blinked and saw Nai standing before him.

“Just how much are you willing to gain their adoration with your silly little tricks? You’re no hero Vash. Never forget what happened,” he warned. Before Vash could react, Nai disappeared. As Vash turned around, certain townspeople appeared before him. Rosa sent death glares along with Tonis.

"If you didn't show up, none of this would have happened! Leave this town and never come back!" Rosa yelled as Vash flinched from the anger in her voice.

"You said you'd save us. You're no hero. If you were, I wouldn't have lost my arm," Tonis said in an unforgiving tone. Vash tried reaching out to the little boy as he wanted to talk. As he reached for his shoulder, Rollo appeared with a face of disgust. Vash's heart rate spiked as he saw the little boy he once knew.

“You liar! You said you would come back for me! You said you'd save us,” he hissed. Before Vash could say anything, a gunshot resonated in the air. Vash flinched as Rollo transformed into his current form and fell limp. Vash's breathing became erratic as he remembered how helpless when Rollo was shot.

"You're so irresponsible. You can't even take care of us. Let alone keep your promises. You're not a hero. You're a coward who can't stand to watch people die," Nai reprimanded. The guilt was building up and weighing on his heart. He never meant to disappoint and fail to protect the people he cared for. Vash truly wanted to save everyone, but the fact that he couldn't save every human haunted him.

As he looked away from Rollo, a familiar figure appeared in the corner of his eye. Rem. She reached her hand out towards him, gesturing to him that everything would be okay. Desperate for the familiar warmth and safety he once felt, Vash ran towards her. As he got closer, Rem's eyebrows furrowed as a sorrowful smile appeared on her lips. Vash's heart quickened as he was confused. Why was she giving him that look? Then she started to disappear slowly.

"WAIT! DON'T GO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Vash pleaded.

"I'm so sorry, my perfect boy," Rem spoke as tears trickled down her cheeks. As Vash was about to grab her hand, she vanished. All that was left were wilted geranium petals in her place. Vash's legs buckled in defeat. He was all alone again. His eyes were closed shut from the physical, mental, and emotional pain he's endured all these years. He dug his fingernails into his palms. The shame, despair, and impotence were too much for him to bear. Vash's past was creeping up more than ever as his survivor's guilt grew exponentially. The poor plant was succumbing to despair until a silver lining made itself known.

"Vash!"

Vash's ears perked up as he knew that voice by heart. He looked up and saw the one person that held a special place in his heart. The person called out for him again. Vash stood up as he tried to pinpoint the source of the sound. He squinted his blue eyes until a familiar face appeared. They cupped their hands around their mouth and yelled his name again.

"Vash! I'm right here!”

The person was waving at Vash as he ran as fast as his legs could. He hoped this time they wouldn’t disappear like Rem. Tears were welling up, but Vash wiped them away as he refused to lose sight of this person. The closer he got, the clearer he saw that radiant smile that always washed away his fears. The person welcomed them with open arms as Vash ran faster. All he wanted was to be comforted with a tight embrace that he so desperately craved. He yearned for that familiar warmth that he could find solace in. This person, Y/n, was his safe haven where no one could hurt him. Once he got close enough, Vash tightly embraced them as he thanked any higher power out there that Y/n didn’t disappear in his arms.

“Y/n, you’re real. I’m so happy you’re real and here with me,” he choked up as they returned the hug.

“Hey, it's okay. I’m right here Vash,” Y/n reassured him with their gentle words. Vash didn’t want to let go of them, fearing they would be whisked away. He looked at their precious face and saw the love and adoration that he’s come to love. Y/n gave them a sweet kiss on his soft lips after what he’s been through. Oh how his heart always fluttered any time he received affection. Once he pulled away, Vash let out an audible gasp as his eyes dilated with fear. Bruises and cuts appeared on Y/n’s face. Those wounds weren't there a second ago. Vash cupped their face and trembled at the sight of his lover's face.

“Y/n, what happened to you? Who did this to you?” He asked. Tears were forming in his eyes as Vash’s anxiety spiked once more.

“Vash what are you talking about? I’m fine. If anything, I should be asking you what’s wrong. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You’re shaking,” they replied. Before Vash could answer, the world around them started to crack, almost as if everything was made out of glass. The ground shook, causing the two of them to lose their balance.

“Vash, what’s going on?” they asked as the cracks in the area grew around them at an alarming rate. Then everything started to fall apart as pieces of your surroundings fell like glass. One large piece landed between Vash and Y/n, causing a large rift separating the pair. Once Y/n regained their balance, a strange force was pulling them away from Vash as an ominous dark void appeared.

“Vash! Something is pulling me in! I’m scared!” They called out. The blonde panicked as he tried to run and close the distance between them. The more he ran, the farther the distance grew. Vash desperately tried to grab Y/n’s hand as he put all his energy into lunging himself towards them. He was so close to them as his fingertips were in reach of their hand. Yet, familiar sharp bladed tendrils emerged from the void, grabbing Y/n's entire body. The look of horror was plastered on Y/n’s face as they were dragged away into the dark void with no trace left behind but their scream. Vash’s heart dropped as the void disappeared. He clawed and kicked away at the spot, hoping it would come back. Once he realized nothing was happening, Vash let out a guttural scream built from all the loneliness and pain from all these years.

“Vash! VASH! VASH WAKE UP!”

Vash shot up from his bed and let out an ear-piercing scream. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw his hotel room illuminated by the moonlight. Beads of sweat covered his face, and his clothes clung to his sweaty skin. Vash held his head with both hands, pushing some of his hair back as he tried to process what happened.

“Vash?”

The blonde snapped his head towards the source of the sound. His shaky hands held Y/n's concerned face. His blue eyes stared deep into their e/c eyes. No signs of cuts, bruises, or wounds were found on their face as his thumb slowly brushed their cheek. Once he confirmed that they were real, Vash sighed in relief. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips quivered. His eyes began to water with his body shaking.

“Vash, what’s the matter sunshine? You were squirming all night,” Y/n added. The minute he heard Y/n call him by his nickname, he immediately pulled them into a bear hug. Vash couldn’t hold back the tears as he bawled his heart out. He was relieved that his Y/n was here with him by his side. He held onto Y/n for dear life, afraid that they would disappear after experiencing the worst nightmare he had so far.

“Y/n, I’m so happy you're okay. I'm so sorry I let go of you. I promise I’ll never let you go and protect you as best as I can,” Vash wailed as his voice cracked every time he spoke. He shook like a leaf and kept hugging Y/n tighter each second. Even though Vash was squeezing the living daylights out of Y/n, they kept rubbing his back and reassuring him.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m right here Vash. Did you have a nightmare again?” Y/n asked. Vash nodded as Y/n pulled away slightly to wipe the tears off his face. Vash tried to explain what happened, but his shaking, sniffles, and lump in his throat made it difficult to understand. Y/n then placed both hands on his shoulders and instructed him to follow their breathing. Inhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, hold four seconds, and repeat. They repeated this until Vash’s tremors subsided, and his breathing was normal again. Y/n then slid their hands down to his hands, and gave them a slight squeeze.

“Better?” Y/n asked as Vash nodded his head again. They then gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good. Wanna start from the beginning?” Y/n asked as Vash took a deep breath.

“I had the same nightmare again. The one with Nai. Except, more people showed up. People like Rosa, Tonis, Rollo, Rem, and…you,” Vash started. It was still fresh from his memory. The guilt, the disappointment, the cold stares, and the broken promises were too much. But what hurt the most was seeing Y/n.

“When I saw you, I ran to you and didn’t let go. Then when I looked at you again, you had cuts and bruises all over your face. I tried to figure out what happened, but everything around us collapsed. Then we got separated again, and I tried reaching out to you, but it was too late. You were pulled away from me and vanished right before my eyes. I thought I lost you like the others Y/n,” Vash finished as his voice cracked at the very end. Y/n then pulled them into a hug as their arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that Vash. You had a bad dream, but you’re awake now. This is real. I’m real, and everything is okay now,” Y/n reassured.

“Yes, but I couldn't save those people back then. What if I can’t save you? What if-?” Vash asked, but Y/n cut them off before he spiraled. They firmly squeezed his shoulder and ensured they were making direct eye contact.

“Vash, you’ve saved so many people. Remember the Sand Worm? The bandits? The police? E.G Bomber? That was you. You saved as many people as you possibly could. You saved Roberto, Meryl, Wolfwood, and my life many times. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here now. So I know you’ll always be there for us and the people in need of saving. And I’ll keep reminding you just how capable you are. Plus, what happened back then was not your fault. You couldn't have predicted what was going to happen. So stop blaming yourself for something you couldn't control. When life gets rough, we keep moving forward,” Y/n reminded them as they gave him a soft yet hopeful look. Vash was about to tear up from those words, but managed to wipe them away with his hand. Even though he felt he didn't deserve this comfort, he knew that Y/n wasn't wrong and knew what to say to put him at ease.

“Thank you for staying by my side Mayfly. You’re so patient and understanding. I honestly don't know how I got so lucky to have you with me. Also, sorry for waking you up like that,” Vash sniffled after pulling them into a gentle embrace.

“Actually, you’re not the only one who had a nightmare,” Y/n confessed. Vash pulled away to look at them with a face that read ‘You too?!’ Y/n reluctantly pulled away and brought their knees to their chest.

“I had a dream where everyone I cared for suffered in front of me. My family, friends, Roberto, Meryl, Wolfwood, and you were in my dream. Each of you was tortured in front of me by these horrible people. All of you were begging and screaming for help. I tried to do something, but my body wouldn’t move, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t even look away. I was forced to see everyone get hurt. It was...it was horrible,” Y/n explained as their voice cracked at the last few sentences. Their eyes were welling up with tears as Vash pulled Y/n into a side hug. His hand slowly rubbing their back.

“Then these people were about to deal the final blow to all of you. I was so scared that I tried to scream and move. Then I woke up to you screaming. I was so scared that I called out for you. That’s when you woke up and screamed. I was shocked but relieved to see that you were alive. I’m just glad that it was a bad dream once I realized you held me, and I saw your face. I couldn't bear the thought of losing people close to me, especially you Vash,” Y/n sobbed and covered their face with both hands as the dream felt too real.

Vash gently moved their hands away and cupped Y/n's face. He wiped away their tears, but his heart sunk seeing Y/n like this. Vash wasn't exactly sure what to say, but knew what to do. He closed his eyes, gently placed his hands on both sides of Y/n's head, and slowly leaned forward until his forehead touched theirs. He knew Y/n wasn't a plant, but it was a natural instinct for him to do. Anytime Y/n felt sad, scared, frustrated, or anxious, he would rest his forehead on them. He would hope they could feel willpower, and energy trying to calm you down like he did with the plants. Sure enough, Y/n's breathing calmed down, and the tears stopped falling. Then he heard a content hum as Vash smiled. That's the sound he was looking for. He opened his ocean blue eyes to see a more relaxed Y/n who's eyes were slowly opening.

"Better?" Vash asked.

"Just what I needed. Thank you Vash," they replied. Vash beamed at his accomplishment as he caressed their head with his human hand and held their back with his prosthetic hand. He quickly pecked their forehead and lips before nestling his neck on Y/n's shoulder.

"Anything for my precious Mayfly," Vash commented with a content smile as Y/n hugged them back and kissed the side of his head. Vash then laid down in bed and pulled Y/n with them to where they rested on top of his chest.

"How late is it?" Vash asked.

"Late enough to have a nightmare and comfort session," Y/n replied as Vash chuckled.

"Want to try to go back to sleep?" Y/n suggested.

"Maybe if I get a kiss we can," Vash teased as he flashed his cheeky smile. Y/n laughed this time and kissed his beauty mark, then his lips. Vash's smile grew wider as his eyes crinkled with joy.

"Happy?" Y/n asked as they rested on his chest once more.

"Happy as can be," he replied while intertwining his fingers with theirs.

"Maybe you can sing that song of yours with your pretty voice before we go to bed?" Y/n requested as Vash blushed at the compliment.

"Promise you won't let go?" Vash asked as he squeezed their hand.

"I promise, now sweet dreams sunshine," Y/n wished as Vash gave them a goodnight kiss.

"Sweet dreams Mayfly," Vash replied as he started humming his song. He watched Y/n get comfortable and steady their breathing. Once he made sure Y/n was asleep, he cuddled them with his prosthetic arm before slowly drifting off to sleep in hopes of a calming dream.

[cleo-arty]

Yeah fuck it imma share the AU idea I have going on

🏵️Welcome Golden Flower🏵️

An AU that takes place after the events of Welcome home's cancelation.

To make this short, the story goes that during the cancelation the directors were discussing on what to do with the cast. Eventually setting on reusing their stuff and fabric to save money. So during the night they took everyone of the puppets away, all except Wally. Thanks to Home locking him out when the directors tried to take him as well. Afterwards, Wally didn't understand where his neighbors went, and after months of trying to search for them he began to lose so much hope. He soon settle down next to Julie's house as a way to hope that she was still there, maybe playing some sort of joke on him. Wally then looked at her golden flower bed as he remembered all the times him and the others would chat there. So in a way he decided to lay there, hoping and wishing to see his friends once again. Then he woke up in a strange area called "The Garden" where bundles of golden flowers lay on the ground. Julie found him afterwards and greeted Wally back after so long of them being apart.

Wally in this AU goes by the nickname Marigold or Goldie based on the flower he was given. His personality doesn't change here, he's more so the same. He does however not know about his friends demise still...

Wally is unsure about the Garden and it's whole purpose, he just goes there every night for now on to see his friends again. He tells home a lot about his time over there but Home never believes him.

Julie in this AU goes by Crocus or Violent. Still the same bubbly and cheerful girl she is. She however is moreso aware of the events that happened along side her friends. However, she refuse to tell Wally about it since she doesn't want to break his heart.

Julie still loves to cheer people up, but she took inspiration into dancing as she thought letting all her positive energy out will help others remain happy.

The Garden

A beautiful and peaceful place Julie created way back then as her own safe haven. The Garden is a place for positivity for everyone who steps in. There are many things you may encounter in the Garden, but only if you have something you truly desire most.

It's said that if you hope and wish for what you want, you may find a path of your flower color guiding you towards the area to your wish. Anything can come true in the Garden.

Beware of the wilted flower path however, no one knows what you may run into but...It's best never to go down those paths.

Flower Color Lore

Your flower can be anything you wish, based on your own personality and beauty. The colors however is something that is very important.

Pastel or light color flowers shows the person either being created from the garden or shows the person is sadly deceased. Because of that you may stay in the Garden forever. However, you may never leave no matter what.

Vibrant or bright color flowers shows the person being linked to the real world or if the person still is alive. With that you only are allowed to visit the Garden during the night. However, once day breaks your body will disintegrate into flower petals. Allow your body to be brought back to reality.

That's all the lore I got omg I fr planned all this out hdjdhd

Anywho um the other character I'll hopefully be able to show since I am still making their refs. Thanks for reading through if you made it here :"D!

[lya-dustin]

I Sang of Leaves of Gold

Summary:Erinti of the Maiar knew their brother would come back and that the time of the elves would come to an end.

She had not known the time would come so soon. A millennium and a half of peace comes to an end no matter how much she tries to stop it.

Chapter 1

Gil Galad x Maia!oc

Cw: pregnancy, magic, visions

A repost of my fic that i had in my lotr/rings of power blog when s1 came out

The great tree had been a gift.

A symbol of Ilúvatar's blessings and their hard earned peace.

And yet it had begun to wilt. Its vitality had begun to decrease little by little. Drip by drip, little by little until it bleeds out with every leaf and the trunk rots away.

It wasn’t noticeable yet, only to Erinti who was made with the purpose of caring for all the beautiful things Yavanna had created it was. The Maia had chosen to stay in Middle Earth, to heal the lands after so much devastation and live with the elf king whom she fell in love with a millennium ago. Her destiny was to nurture life and now she finally had the privilege of nurturing a life inside her womb.

She is soon to give birth and now ill omens appear all around her.

“When the Tree loses it’s life then you will know the time of the elves will be done.” Eönwë’s pronouncement echoes in her ears as it did when she chose to stay instead of returning to the Undying Lands where no pain nor sorrows could ever touch her.

But Eönwë had said Elves would have one more age in Middle Earth before they are all called back to Valinor. Erinti, Lady of the Flowers and Queen of the Noldor, would not leave until the babe in her womb flourishes and becomes the flaming beacon of Lindon.

Why was it coming so soon?

Why now? Why now when their happiness would finally be complete?

“What ails you, Erinti?” Her husband asks as she felt the tree for signs of blight.

Melkor had been defeated, and Sauron too weak to come out of hiding, but evil remains and it will resurface again just as it had been shown in the Music at the beginning of the world.

There is something in the Music, something that will ruin the melody and only Erinti alone could hear it. She is one of the few here, Tom Bombadil and the wizard in Rhûn lived too far, and, in her condition, travel was out of the question. There was no way for her to consult with them without causing great alarm everywhere.

“Something in the earth is sapping the life of the Great Tree. I cannot find why or how it is happening; I tend to it personally every day, yet the blight returns.” Something terrible is coming, the queen feels a black chill in her bones as she finds the blight in the roots.

Erinti sings the old songs she was taught as she seeks to heal the tree, but the spirit of it rejects her help. As if it were incompatible with her even when Erinti was made to care for it and all the other plants in the world.

It has never happened before.

“It has rejected me?” she gasped as she felt it dissipate into the world instead of feeding the tree.

“Perhaps the tree refuses to take the feä of a pregnant woman. You need all your strength now that you are nearing your time, meleth nîn.” Gil-galad had a tendency to hover over her this past year.

The last child of Maiar and Eldar blood had been Lúthien Tinúviel, and Melian had refused to beget another after laboring days and nights to bring her into this world. The difference in power and kind made unions like there’s almost impossible.

But Erinti Lotheriel has long desired to nurture life inside of her, and after so many centuries they had finally conceived their only child. The Maia had taken every precaution to keep her state from affecting her abilities and the safety she provided for her people, it was not that.

“It has never refused me, even when we conceived our son almost a year ago. It makes no sense for the tree to reject me for carrying a child of my own blood now when it did not do so then.” The red-haired woman shook her head and kept her focus on the silver trunk and golden leaves that still appeared full of life and yet on the precipice of dying. “Something is wrong, I can feel it in my feä, and the tree can feel it in the earth. It is an evil that feeds off hatred, fear, and blood thirst.”

The maia gasps as she sees it in the just beyond the trees. They have never been one to see the future beyond that which relates to her purpose, but she does.

Galadriel paving the way for the Dark Lord to rise and Sauron laughing as the huntress becomes the hunted.

Galadriel giving into Mairon’s seduction as he stokes all that angers and hurts her and becoming what they feared most.

“Galadriel.” It is barely a whisper, as if the queen feared making the vision true just by speaking it out loud.

“Galadriel! She will awaken him, she will not mean to, but she will!” Erinti clutches to her husband in fear of what will come if they cannot put a stop to it.

For the sake of the world. For the sake of all that live in the All-Father’s light, Galadriel cannot be allowed to reach wherever Erinti’s fallen brother has been imprisoned.

For the sake of Middle Earth, she must leave it.

[star-eyed-angels]

Journal Entry

This is about the recent election. If the topic is not something you want to read please scroll away🤍

I feel it goes without saying on my stance on the election results. It’s so strange. To be here for two disastrous election outcomes. I remember the first time coming to my blog and feeling an agony I prayed I would never experience again. Yet here we are. It’s like entering a cursed time machine.

This is nothing like my usual writing. In fact this will not be tagged. If you choose to read please just keep in mind it’s heavy. Heavier than anything I’ve posted thus far.

This is a letter not to anyone on here, but to people I thought I could trust. People that I’ve found would not save me in a burning room. I’ve written this as a way to come to terms with it. It’s been hard to digest. In the back of my mind I always knew, but seeing it come to fruition is its own type of heartbreak. I’m not ready to post it anywhere else. But I figured I’d post it here as an outlet. And In case anyone feels the way I do so you know you’re never alone.

I’d like to preface this by saying while I’m not a very religious person, I do believe in a God. I do believe in Heaven. I do believe in more. There are mentions of religion of God in this letter so if that makes you uncomfortable feel free to scroll away.

Last thing. I want to make it clear, this is a safe place. You are safe here. With me. Anyone who disagrees can kindly get the fuck off my blog. You are not welcome. You have every right to feel the way you do. Know that you are loved, if by no one else then by me. I am here if you need someone. Sending nothing but love and comfort your way my lovelies. Thank you for reading this far. If you’d like to continue the letter is below the cut 🤍

Last warning lovelies.

You tell us to choose peace, to choose love and avoid hate. But my dearest friend how can you say such a thing? How can you preach such a belittling comment when you’ve chosen a man who wants anything but peace. Someone who supports violence, enjoys it in fact. He doesn’t care about us. He doesn’t care about our beautiful earth as she wilts and dies. He doesn’t care about our children who are watching us adults tear each other into pieces. He doesn’t care about us as we fight just to stay alive. He doesn’t care about anyone. He does not care. HE. DOES. NOT. CARE. He’s started a fire with no intention to put it out. He will watch our country burn from the inside out.

You keep preaching that Jesus is king. That God is above all else. But who has called this into question? Not I. I’m well aware of who my king is. And so is everyone else. We pray and plead with him to save us. To protect us through what we know is going to hurt. Murderous growing pains. Jesus is still my king, let me be clear. That will never change. But right now my mighty king weeps in the skies above. For his people’s suffering is just beginning. And our mother. Our beautiful mother mourns for the sorrow sweeping over her children. So no I have not forgotten. I know them as they live on through me.

Maybe it’s you that’s forgotten, dear friend. Could it be that deep in your heart you know? You know what this is doing? How wrong it is? How this is not what he would have wanted? Is this your way of justifying putting us up for slaughter? By preaching love and peace when it didn’t bother you before? Are you uncomfortable? Is the voice louder than you thought? Is your conscience not as forgiving as the ones you defend? But it still won’t change your mind will it? You won’t see until it’s late, if you come to see that is.

So friend, where does that leave us? I suppose it’s a turning point. At a crossroads, if you will. You may continue to rejoice. You may continue to cheer. You may continue to smile and celebrate a victory in your book of wins. And what will we do? Even though you do not care to ask I will tell you anyways. We will prepare for the worst. We will do our best to navigate through the fear. Through the uncertainty. We will not ‘be okay’. But we will manage.

I fear I already know the answer, but one thing still nags at me.

Can you tell me old friend, will you stand and protect me when they come for us? Will you witness as they rip us to shreds? Will you watch as they burn us alive?

I suppose it doesn’t matter.

I’m not sure I could even pretend to believe you no matter how hard I try.

You’ve already sacrificed so many of us. You’re already preparing your front row seat to watch us be slaughtered. You’ve already thrown us to the wolves.

And you’ve done it for a wolf in sheep’s clothing, no less. You’ve allowed him to deceive you in the name of God. Sacred words twisted and broken into daggers. sharpened at the hands of the ‘righteous’.

So forgive me stranger, but you may not ask for peace. There is none left. For it now lays among our bloodied corpses.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Notice Me, Reader! Tag

Thanks for the tag, @tabswrites!

Rules: Share 3 (or more!) small details from your WIP that you feel have gone/will go unnoticed. (You can choose whether or not to share why the detail is significant!)

I'll share some sneaky details from Tales of Wilted Flowers and Realms of Loss (:

Tales of Wilted Flowers -

Lorelai's name means "alluring enchantress", and usually a name with a meaning related to sirens that lure people to their doom. That name fits well the way the kingdom views her House, as "conniving traitors", but also has a hint of mystery that implies that not all is what it seems. (The idea for this name also came to me after listening to Loreley by Blackmore's Night)

As the title of the story would imply, many of the characters have flower motifs - some of which may appear in clothing motifs, symbolism, or actual flowers in the story. Flowers are usually tied to meanings of rebirth, hope, and something that is thriving. Wilted flowers indicate that something is amiss - perhaps their environment is sickly as well. Rylisan's flower motif is daisies. Xarian's flower motif is the nightshade. Think about that as you will (: Both have multiple meanings for the characters at hand.

When Neoma'ka is introduced she is trapped in a complicated situation. This parallels her backstory, which revolves around her being "trapped" within her family's expectations of her. It also implies that she is trapped, emotionally, by her own hands - for as long as she does not come to terms with her past.

King Tieran Kallasen's story as well as his past friendship-turned-rivalry with Arcturus Wildwood was vaguely inspired by the actual Arthurian legends. Tieran is a twisted version of King Arthur, while Arcturus is inspired by Lancelot.

Once again, the "flower" motif, but subtler: Arista Bryar's surname is a variation of the word briar - which means wild rose. Roses are innocent flowers usually hailed for their beauty, but their thorns can cause a lot of pain. As it turns out, Arista might be more thorn than flower when the story starts. I also chose her surname as "Bryar" because in Ravaryn faeries are known for having nature-inspired surnames, and she is a half-fae (vampires are faeries in this story). She is also associated with the color ember red, or blood crimson - respectively, "like her father's eyes or the rage in her heart."

Multiple character backstories in this WIP deal with the theme of being unjustly judged and shunned, being othered and cast away by other people - be it by being called a bloodthirsty aberration, a scoundrel, a dark magician, or a traitor, when that's not true. It's also a story about those characters learning to love themselves no matter what society thinks about them.

Realms of Loss:

Kassien's symbol (which is in his actual insignia in the story) is the Sea Serpent (the legendary monster). Those creatures are associated in mythology with the ungovernable power of the oceans, chaos, and the mysteries of the unknown.

When Gwain Vytris is first described in the story there's the phrase "his grey cloak frames him like the closed wings of a hawk". Hawks are birds associated with intelligence, adaptability, and freedom, while also being birds of prey capable of causing serious danger to those they hunt. It's a pretty ominous, somewhat hopeful imagery for our angry boi.

The name Drystan is a variation of Tristan, a name that means "sorrow, or one who is sorrowful". Considering Drystan's backstory in this book, I think the name is pretty accurate.

Sara Kallary's story is very much a "person vs fate" story in which she questions whether she was born destined to be a vile monster like a certain relative of hers, or if she can choose and carve out her own path and destiny.

Nesrynna is known for her unique necklace, which has an amulet that is actually a music box. This has two meanings, both are correct: 1. she chooses to look for beauty and hope in unlikely places, 2. she is stuck in the pain of her childhood, and what it could've been if nothing had gone wrong, she never let go.

Tagging - @oh-no-another-idea, @sm-writes-chaos, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs, @writernopal, @elshells, @cabbojage, @jay-avian and @rickie-the-storyteller

[bellafragolina]

Beauty and the Beast

🍓🍓🍓

Chapter One

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. He was kind, but distant to the people of his kingdom, spending more time with his brother than with any of the subjects. Most of the people didn’t care about this self isolation, happy to live under the king while the eldest prince grew out of his introversion. However, as time passed, and the king grew ill, people began to worry.

After all, how would a king rule a kingdom he’s never seen?

With an uncertain future looming, a woman took to the castle, magic boiling beneath her fingers. Draped in a cloak, she approached the castle, banging on the doors and begging the elder prince for help within the kingdom, as the king was too ill to do so.

But the prince refused, hardly entering the room where the woman begged. She offered him a rose, clenched so tight that blood dripped down her wrists, but again the prince refused.

So the woman cast aside her cloak, revealing herself to be a powerful enchantress. The prince, realizing his mistake, begged the woman to forgive him, but it was too late. She saw that he refused to face his duties, and as punishment, she wove a curse into the blood that dripped from her palms.

She would transform the elder prince into a terrible beast, forced to hide away as he did as human. She placed a powerful spell on the castle, changing all inside as well, and left the rose behind. It would live, slowly wilting, until the prince’s twenty-seventh year. If by then, he could find someone to love and to love him in return, the spell would be broken. If, however, the last petal fell and he had not found the courage to face anyone, then he would remain a beast forever.

The enchantress gave the prince an enchanted mirror, then left him alone. Ashamed, the beast concealed himself within the castle, and as the years passed, he slowly lost hope.

For who could ever love a beast?

🌹

You sigh, the road before you short in distance, but long in toil. You’re not deaf to the whispers of the townspeople, their confusion and bemusement for a person such as yourself. Perhaps you inherited your father’s eccentricities, but you didn’t think it was a bad thing. If only the town of normal folk felt the same.

Steeling yourself with a sigh, you take the first step down the road into the quaint village you now call home.

Calls of greeting ring out from the homes and shops all around. You weave through warm bodies, friendly hands brushing along your arms and back as they pass you by. You return gentle squeezes and warm good mornings, pretending not to hear the hushed voices that blossom behind you.

Instead, you keep focus on your destination, only pausing to do a bit of shopping. You needed bread, eggs, maybe some jams and honey if available.

“Good morning, belle.” The baker says to you as you offer him coins for some bread. The light in his eyes dances with amusement with your wry smile. The nickname you were gifted upon arriving, while kind, makes you sigh. Maybe you’re beautiful, but there’s more to you than looks. Not that the people appreciate that so much. “What has you out and about so early?”

“I’m headed to the bookshop.” You reply eagerly, wanting desperately to discuss your latest book. The Castle of Otranto was such a good read, and you want to say so much about it. “It’s about a king and-”

“How nice.” The baker says, dismissively. He’s turned back towards his shop, where the heavy smell of rolls starts to billow out from. “My love! Bring out the rest!”

Well aware that you’re no longer wanted here, you move on. The town comes to life around you, voices rising and shouting over one another. You manage to get some eggs before a crowd forms around the stall, shying away from the sea of people that all get along so well, far better than you.

The muffled quiet of the local bookshop soothes your growing stress. You sigh in relief, the smell of pages and ink and leather soothing your very soul.

The shop owner, Hugo,  glances from his shelves to nod at you. “Back already?”

You grin, shoulders rising as you offer the book back. “Couldn’t put it down! Such a good story.” The colorful spines of the fair collection catches your eye. You know the answer, but the question comes out anyway. “You don’t have anything new, do you?”

A warm smile passes over Hugo’s face as you already head towards the shelf most familiar to you. “Not since yesterday, no.”

“Then I’ll borrow this one.” You hum, pulling The Mysteries of Udolpho from the others. “Please?”

“You borrow it so often!” Hugo exclaims with a laugh. He claps his thin hands together into a sharp sound that makes you jump. “Just keep it, belle. It’s practically yours already anyway.”

You balk, and try to protest. “But-!”

“I insist.” He says, looking you in the eye. You know the look, the one where he won’t budge, from nights spent begging to borrow more books than you could rightfully carry.

The book presses to your chest. “Thank you.” It’s an airy whisper, the surprise of such a kind gift making your heart flutter in your chest. You’re so happy. “Thank you so much!”

Hugo shoos you off, into the crowd that seems far less crowded now that you have your book. You crack it open immediately, the pages familiar beneath your fingers, and begin reading your favorite romance over once more. Lost in the pages of the story, the world moves around you with ease, no more stress or worry about what the people say about you as you glide by on a cloud.

That is, until suddenly the book is no longer in your hands.

You spin around, grimacing to see the wealthiest men in the town stood before you, your book dangling from his fingers. “Lord Ghetsis.”

“Good morning, belle.” He hums, bowing his head to you. His long green hair spills over his shoulders, down the front of his fine shirt. “It’s a fine day, far too fine to spend reading away.”

“I enjoy reading.” You reply, reaching for your book. Ghetsis only holds it higher with a wrinkle of his nose.

“Not a woman’s place to read.” Ghetsis says, eyeing your book in displeasure. “Especially these types of titles. They give you too many fantastical ideas. You’ll start believing in magic at this rate!”

You huff, forcing down anger. To anger Ghetsis is to ask for an eviction. The lab your father spent years building would be taken away, his inventions too no doubt, as fine. So you keep polite discourse, begrudgingly.

“I’m smarter than that.” You say. “I know better than to believe in fairy tales. Is it so wrong to want to read a nice story?”

“Why not experience one?” Ghetsis asks. He gestures back behind him, towards his son. The tall, lanky boy stands before a small crowd of all the young women in the village, all vying for his attention. He, however, looks very uncomfortable, glancing between them and you both quite often. “My son is in need of a spouse, someone to help him raise a family, keep the Harmonia line going. And you are the best of all the belles in town, if a bit odd with their hobbies.”

The best? You fluster, well aware he’s only referring to the fact you’re considered the “belle” of the town. 

“Th-that’s very kind of you, but I’m not looking to marry!” You snag at your book, and Ghetsis is kind enough to let you take it back. You clutch it close, and down a small bow. “Please excuse me; I need to help my father!”

“That nutjob?” Snarks a nearby villager, ribbing his friend. You glare as they snicker. “He needs all the help he can get!”

The anger you’ve been keeping a lid on boils over. “My father is not crazy! Don’t speak of him that way! He’s a genius!”

An explosion punctuates your sentence. The ground trembles beneath your feet, and you whip around to see smoke billowing out of the windows of your own. Horror floods your chest, crushing it as you take off towards home, the laughter of the village behind you.

The doors to the cellar easily open with your yank. Smoke puffs into your face, making you cough, but it doesn’t stop you from scurrying down the steep steps. The room is hard to see with the smoke, but you can make out the shape of your father’s latest invention, as well as the coughing body sat next to it.

“Papa!” You gasp, wafting away smoke to see the singed face of your poor father. You fetch the hankie from your pocket and try to wipe away the soot clinging to his cheeks and forehead. “What happened?”

“This blasted machine happened!” Your father exclaims. He flops onto his back, hands balled in fists. You bite back a giggle and sit beside him, still cleaning his face. “I’m giving up on this hunk of junk.”

“You say that every time something goes wrong.”

“Well, I mean it this time!” Your father sends a stern glare to the machine still sat in the middle of the room, like that will make it realize it needs to clean up its act. Sadly, the machine stays sitting defiantly in its state of brokenness. “I’m not touching that damn thing again.”

You’re amused, the words easily coming to your tongue as you play this game with him again. “Oh, but you will, And you’ll make it work, and you’ll take it to that fair and win the first prize. And you’ll be a world famous inventor, known far and wide for his genius.”

There’s a brief silence as your father mulls over these words of yours.

“You believe that?” He asks, still somewhat gruff and sullen.

“I’ve always believed it.” You say with a nod.

Another heartbeat passes, then your father springs back to his feet. “Then let’s get to it! We’ll have this thing fixed in no time!”

He charges the machine, an automatic log cutter that has a brace for launching the cut pieces into the air and onto a pile. Watching him work is mesmerizing, the way he coaxes metal and wire into cooperating as one, but your mind still lingers on the conversation you left before. Ghetsis eyes, sharp and certain, haunt you, and have you clutching your book closer to your chest.

“Papa?” You hazard, once he’s no longer messing with the flammable parts of his machine. “Do you think I’m odd?”

He turns to you, eyes far too large in his magnifying goggles. “Odd? You’re just like me! And I’m not a bit odd.” He turns back to the machine, and starts whacking some springs with his hammer. “What brought this up?”

“I’m. . . not very popular in town.” You admit. It’s not the first time you talked about this, but with the pressure from Ghetsis hanging over you, it feels pertinent to speak about it again. “I don’t have anyone to really talk to. . .”

Your father cocks his head, half distracted by a nut he’s found and can’t place. “Er, but what about that young fellow? Ghetsis’ boy! He’s handsome!”

“Sure,” you drawl, dismayed your father is speaking like this, “he’s handsome, but. . . I dunno, Papa. I don’t think he’s for me.”

A slam of the small compartment door, and your father moves closer. He’s stained again, in oil and grease, but he’s smiling that warm smile that eases all your fears.

“Don’t you worry, peanut.” He says, patting your knee. “This invention is going to be the start of a new life for us. We’ll find you friends, maybe someone to love! Someone who appreciates what a gem you are, unlike these simple folk!”

You smile. Yep, fears eased. 

“Is it done?”

“I think so!” Your father gestures to the lever poking out of the side. “Want to give her a try?”

You grin, and pull the lever.

A whistle screeches from the machine, the wood and metal rustles and shakes as steam rushes through the pipes and propels it forward. The ax situated to the front of the contraption swings down, slicing through the prepared log with ease. The pressure causes the spring-loaded brace to bounce, and the cut logs pounces off, perfectly onto the pile of other cut logs.

You and your father balk, then snap to one another, exclaiming, “It works!”

Joyous, your father scoops you into a hug, swinging you around in his excitement. He immediately starts to chatter about readying the horse with the cart to take the machine into town. You race about with him, thrilled to think that maybe your lives are finally turning around, and before long you’re waving goodbye to him.

“Be safe, Papa!”

“You as well!” He calls back. “I’ll bring you a rose from the gardens!”

You grin. A rose, your favorite. What a sweet man your father was. A small part of you hopes to find a man like him, maybe one day in the future. For now, you resign yourself to the romance within your book and within your imagination.

One day, adventure and romance will come for you. You just know it.

🍓🍓🍓

surprise bitch! you thought you'd seen the last of me!

nah, i didn't forget! welcome to the first chapter of ingo's fairy tale!

~Renee

[daddyhausen]

• sunflowers  — hangman adam page  — chapter one •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlist } | { aew masterlist } | { hangman adam page masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — none

{ word count } — 875

{ pairing } — fem!reader x hangman adam page

{ genre } — interactive

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14

{ comment if you want to be added into the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ intro } | { chapter two }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

🌻

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

it started as one flower, then two. by the end of the week the vase that resided at your window sill had been filled to the brim twice over with beautiful, blooming sunflowers, those from the field just past the stables. you’d find them on your window sill each morning, with no recollection of how they got there or from whom gifted them to you. it was a strange predicament, one that certainly left you on edge slightly yet also the act felt quite harmless and endearing. 

at times you’d find yourself staring at them, admiring the beauty in their simplicity, how the vibrant yellow petals clouded around the rich, dark centre. other times you’d pluck at the petals in a hopeless game of “he loves me, he loves me not” with your so-called secret admirer. even when wilting they seemed so beautiful, you simply could not bring yourself to throw them away. 

“more flowers?” willow, spoke up amongst the silence. she stood in your doorway, leaking against the worn oak frame. she was stocky, but by no means big. her body full and curvaceous, and she was well endowed, much to your jealousy. her hair sat in taught ringlets atop her head, a couple of daisies sat effortlessly amongst the curls, shielded from her eyes by a lilac and white tartan bandana, the same colour and pattern matching the dress she wore.

the sleeves hung off her shoulders slightly, stopping mid forearm, where the cuffs were ruched and tightened slightly around the skin, a white corset tied tightly to accentuate her natural curves completed her ensemble. her skin was warm and sun-kissed lightly with melanin. her smile infection to say the least. a seamstress she was, owning her own tailor shop in town, although she was not against wrangling a few horses if need be. you’d befriended her some years back. she takes up residence in the ranch also, her bedroom only a couple of doors down from yours.

you could only nod with a small chuckle, patting the mattress as an invitation for her to join you. she squeaked with excitement, clapping her hand gleefully like a small child allowed to roam free in a candy store. she took a seat beside you, hands folded in her lap eagerly.

“so, who do you think they’re from?” she questioned.

“honestly i haven’t got the slightest idea” your remark was honest, you indeed had no clue which mysterious stranger would be doing such an act. there was no card, no indication of a name, a signature not even a letter 

“maybe it’s that boy from the theatre last month, the politician's son..oh what’s his name…” willow clicked to tongue sharply as if it were to regain her train of thought 

“…maxwell?” 

“maxwell! that’s it! that boy is always trying to court you!” 

you held your breath for a moment at that thought, a shiver sent down your spine with an almost repulsed expression. sure maxwell was handsome, impeccably dressed and had an outstanding aura in social settings, however, his personality lacks the charm his exterior presents.

“trust me, he’s not the type to court for marriage, if you know what i mean” 

 willow burst out into a fit of laughter, unable to contain it any longer at the thought.

“yeah right! like he’d be the type to send flowers!”

willow’s cheeks were warm with laughter, hot tears pricking the corners of her eyes, wiping them away as she tried to stifle her chuckles. a silence fell throughout the room, not awkward in the slightest, merely letting your mind continue to contemplate 

“are you sure it’s not you?” you jokingly poked her side with your index finger, one of which led to break out into a small fit of giggles once more, tufts of thick curls bouncing lightheartedly with her movement. 

“y/n my darling, trust me. you’d be getting more than sunflowers that's for sure” willow’s playful banter made your cheeks heat up in a bashful glance at your beloved friend. your fingers toying with the hemline of your skirt, the material smooth and silky against your fingertips, the colour, a muted grey-blue that complemented the undertones of your skin . 

“but really…” she continued 

“maybe it’s that new stablehand, he’s rather handsome from what i’ve heard” willow raised her eyebrows in a playful flirtatious fashion, tugging lightly at your arm. 

“what stablehand? father never mentioned a new one-”

“you haven’t seen him yet?” she interrupted, albeit unintentionally, a semi-shocked expression “well, we certainly must change that!”

“willow no-!” you tried to pry her grip from around your wrist, but by god the woman was strong. you were sure she’d leave bruised from how tight she was gripping you, although pain was never her intention. you held onto the metal framing of your bedpost, fingers barely clinging around the thin cylinder, holding on for dear life

“maybe you could ask him about the flowers too!” she mentioned completely ignoring your please

“are you insane?! do you want me to die from embarrassment?!” 

“c’mon don’t be such a scaredy cat, what have you got to lose?” willows voice was all too chipper despite your predicament. 

“only my sanity and dignity for starters…”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[oceana-official]

𖥻  A FUNNY FEELING CALLED LOVE ˒ 𝐞𝐭𝐚. summer of 2022

starring ˒ blaire & her lover

cameos ˒ ivy and her bf

warnings ˒ fluff with a little angst :]

emma says ˒ we dont know who this lover is yet... hmm blaire ruth orion what are you hiding?? :/ lmk if you like this!! also i did not proof read it so ignore any errors <33

disclaimer ˒ spam liking without any reblogs will be blocked.

"What are you looking at?" she heard the other voice say. smiling at the source, she shook her head. "Just looking at how beautiful you are" blaire heard her voice say. looking at the soft blush coating her companion's face, she felt satisfied to know that she had the upper hand. "not as beautiful as you tho ruth…" said the other voice. feeling the soft crimson color on her cheek, she turned to the other side making the other laugh. hearing the laughter never failed to bring smile on blaire's face. just looking at the smile on her lover's face was enough to make her fall in love all over again with the said individual. traveling and creating memories has always been her favorite pastime. but she never once imagined she'd be doing it with the love of her life.

grinning to herself, she took a picture of her lover looking at the camera they had just bought together. she knew how she'd be asked to send that picture so that the other could share it with everyone but she wanted to keep it to herself. she wanted to keep them to herself. afraid if others opinions on their love would taunt her too much, she's always kept to herself. even if someone found out, they'd just think that they're just two best friends traveling together right? She was very grateful to have someone by her side who listens to her rambles without any complaints. all her past boyfriends have in one way the other once complained about her talking too much which once led her to stop all together.

but this….. this time it felt different. it was as if even if blaire was to explain the concept of rocket science, her lover would listen. she'd be urged to tell more about what she knew and not just shut up and sit in a corner. everytime she would talk about anything, she felt a pair of eyes that belonged to someone that listened. the first time she cried in front of her beloved was when she was gifted the thing that she had been talking non stop about 6-7 months ago. just the thought makes her eyes water. she was sure that she was way out of her lover's league. she was surprised to know that the feelings were reciprocated. she still remembers coming home to the members being so confused on why their blaire was acting so weird. she was so happy that day she would've kissed them right then and there. but that would mean that all her hard work of rizzing up her beloved would go down the drain. the memories they shared together would always hold a special place in her heart.

deep down, she knows they aren't supposed to last long. she knows that, but she can't help but fall in love more each passing day. she also knows her members won't say anything that might hurt her. after all sage was the one who introduced her to the love of her life. the only person who knew about this love they shared beside them was ivy. of course it was ivy, blaire remembers laughing about how ivy is saving everybody's ass every time.

ivy was the one who encouraged blaire to go for it. give her love a try instead of wilting away with sadness. she sometimes wonders if her and her lover look at each other the same way ivy and her boyfriend look at each other. she feels as if she's dreaming everytime shes with her soulmate. her friends from home would for sure tease her to death if they knew about her whipped condition now. She was always the third wheel of the friend group. Whenever her friends would get boyfriends, she always joked that she was their child and not just a third wheel. but as much as Ruth likes to forget the feeling, she did get a lot lonely in the past.

When she got her first boyfriend, he was an ass. She thinks back to it now, he never paid attention to her, never encouraged her, never showed any love or any kind of emotion. she felt so good when she finally mustered up the courage to break up with him after almost a year. Now, Blaire couldn't even think about her lover not paying attention. she's constantly showered with compliments and reassurance and just what not… she feels complete. Her heart feels content and it's as if a million butterflies are having a party in her stomach everytime her beloved looks at her.

The feeling of loneliness is long gone. She knows it's just a matter of time before the end things but she wants to savor their love until then. She doesn't know when that said moment is but she wants to slow down time. They knew what they were getting into the second they laid eyes on each other and they knew the consequences of their actions but it still hurt blaire to think about the end. how can she forget. how can she forget all the loving gazes, the secret hand holding, the secret kisses they shared… quickly thinking of their good times, blaire smiles towards no one in particular. she can think of the bad things later.

blaire is shaken out of her daydream by her beloved telling her it was time to board the plane. getting on it with high expectations to spend the summer with the person she loves, she did not in fact predict she'd come back alone with a broken heart and tear stains down her cheek.

oceana taglist ˒ @stealanity @riikiblr @skz-libby @nohchuri (lmk if wanna be added!)

[chuncao]

Love potion - part 2

Joongdok Fantasy AU - Witch kdj/knight yjh

Based on the novel - “Hello, I Am a Witch, and My Crush Wants Me to Make a Love Potion!”

“Princess Seolhwa, you called for me?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk entered the room and knelt before the princess. She was wearing a soft smile but her eyes weren’t smiling at all. 

“Captain Joonghyuk- No, Joonghyuk-ah. Would you listen to one of your old friend’s selfish requests?” 

Before he could answer, she continued. 

“Can you get me a love potion?” 

And that was how Yoo Joonghyuk began his quest of obtaining a love potion. 

— 

Love potion - a drug capable of distorting one’s mind. Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to ask why Lee Seolhwa wished to obtain it, but deep down, he was already aware of the answer. The princess was to be wed to the neighboring kingdom’s king in 3 months for political purposes. The man was 20 years older than her, with his granddaughters being around the princess’s age. Yoo Joonghyuk, being one of the princess’s best friends, couldn’t bear seeing her entering such an absurd marriage. He tried to oppose it at first, but Lee Seolhwa just gave him a sad smile. 

“It is my duty as a princess to do everything for the sake of the country.” 

She told him. What could he do when she said something like that? As a result, Yoo Joonghyuk resolved to do his best to serve the princess during her last time in the kingdom. Even if that included getting a love potion from a witch. 

Witches were humans with magical powers in them. They had the ability to brew the deadliest potions or assault a whole country with just a flick of their hand. As a result, ordinary people who feared those powers tried to isolate them from society. They limited their contact with those beings and would run away at the sight of them. However, there are still those who desired the powerful potions made by the witches, which included Yoo Joonghyuk. 

After some searches, the knight captain finally managed to get some information regarding a nearby witch. The Witch of the Lake - the informant told him. They lived deep inside the forest and no one knew what the person looked like. Some said they was an ugly old woman who made potion out of human flesh, some believed the witch to be a beautiful young woman who killed time by seducing men. Each person has their own image of the witch, but one thing for certain is that they all thought of the witch as a woman. 

It took him quite a lot of effort to be able to reach the witch’s dwelling. It was a small hut standing beside a clear lake, befitting the witch’s name. The surrounding forest together with the lake created a natural barrier that isolated the hut from the outside world. In order to get there, one needs to sit on a boat, which ran on magical power, to get to the other side. 

“Knock knock.”

Yoo Joonghyuk knocked on the door. No answer came but the door opened by itself. 

“Hello-“ 

What greeted him upon entering the house was a small figure enveloped in a baggy brown  robe. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t make out their face as it was covered by a hood. 

“Is this the house of the Witch of the Lake?” 

He asked the mysterious figure while taking a good look around. The place was too small to be called a house, with spider webs and dust covering each and every corner. Stacks of books and magical equipment filled the room to the brim, which made it feel more like a laboratory than a living place. The only sign of daily activities was some wilted tomatoes sitting on a table by the kitchen window. Yoo Joonghyuk unconsciously grimaced at the sight. 

“Can I ask where the Witch of the Lake is?” 

Hearing no response from the other person, he asked again. 

“I am the Witch of the Lake.”  

The person in the brown robe, still looking to the floor, answered his question with a surprisingly clear voice. However, he couldn’t make out if it belonged to a man or a woman. 

“I have a request for you, Witch of the Lake.”

“How can I help you, dear customer?”

“Can you make a love potion?”

Upon hearing his request, they stay silent for a while. Was it such a difficult potion to make? For Lee Seolhwa’s sake, he had to obtain it no matter what. 

“Excuse me? Did you hear what I said earlier on?”

“Ah yes, you want a love potion, right? Unfortunately, I have none at the moment.”

Oh, so it was possible to brew the potion. Sighing in relief, he continued. 

“At the moment? That means you can make more, right?”

“The ingredients are very expensive and hard to get.”

“I will do my best to get them.”

“It takes a long time to brew the potion.”

“No worries, I can wait.”

For some reason, the witch seemed to be reluctant to accept his request. Yoo Joonghyuk was thinking of threatening them into brewing the potion when the other person walked to their table full of books and wrote them down on a piece of paper. 

“I will give you the list of ingredients and instructions on how to get them. Please try to deliver them in a timely manner.”

“I’ll come back every two weeks to deliver the ingredients.”

Looking at the piece of paper full of absurd ingredients, Yoo Joonghyuk immediately knew that this whole thing would take up a lot of his time. Seemed like he needed to pay visits to this place quite frequently in the near future. 

—

Yoo Joonghyuk would make a trip to the witch’s dwelling every two weeks, bringing the ingredients he managed to gather with him. Despite the frequent visits, he didn’t have that much contact with the witch. The person’s face would always be obscured by the robe and they seemed nervous every time he tried to start up a conversation. Their exchange only stopped at him handing the ingredients and the witch checking them. Not that he was dissatisfied with how tight-lipped the other was. After all, he didn’t want rumors of the princess’s knight having contact with a witch being spread as it could hurt Lee Seolhwa’s reputation. 

The knight was heading toward the witch's hut. Today wasn’t their agreed meetup time, but he needed to deliver this ingredient as soon as possible. It was difficult to obtain and could only last for a short amount of time. As a result, he had no choice but to go a day earlier than he intended. 

As he landed on the lakeside, the sight of a man washing his clothes entered his eyes. The man was naked with not a single piece of clothing covering his body. Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath hitched as if he had forgotten how to breathe. The person was simply too… beautiful. Long silky hair, white porcelain skin, and a small slim waist. He wondered if said person was a fairy of the lake with how ethereal he looked. 

Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t take his eyes off the other’s body. Somehow, he looked weirdly familiar. Wait… that figure… and he was holding a familiar brown robe… wasn’t that the Witch of the Lake? How could the rumored witch be such a pretty young man? Yoo Joonghyuk was confused, his head trying to adapt to the situation as reality hit him like a truck. 

As realization dawned upon him, the knight saw the witch’s head turning towards his direction. The moment his eyes met his, the man froze. Ah, his eyes were lovely. They were sparkling like the constellations on a dark night, sucking the soul out of whoever they met. Yoo Joonghyuk wondered why the witch hid such alluring under a hood. 

“M-my apologies.” 

Realizing that he was being imprudent, Yoo Joonghyuk immediately looked away.

“I-I’ll be right back!”

The man, in a high-pitched voice, announced before rushing inside the house. Yoo Joonghyuk found himself chuckling at the witch’s cute actions. 

After a while, the witch finally opened the entrance for him. He was wearing a new white robe embroidered with golden threads, the usual old brown robe was nowhere to be seen. Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t usually a fan of white - his uniform was white and he hated it. But seeing white on the other’s man somehow made the color more likable than it usually was. 

“G-good morning dear customer. What brings you to my house today?”

The witch asked him with his eyes on the floor. He must be feeling embarrassed about the earlier incident with how shuttered he sounded. Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly had the urge to take the hood of the other man’s robe off to see his face clearly. He only managed to catch a glimpse of it earlier on and he already had butterflies in his stomach thinking about it. 

“G-good morning dear customer. What brings you to my house today?”

Yoo Joonghyuk handed the witch the ingredient bag. The man reached his hand out to receive it, a part of the robe’s sleeves being pulled back. Now that Yoo Joonghyuk noticed it, wasn’t the man too thin? Even a chicken’s leg had more meat than his hand. 

“Lady- no Sir Witch of the Lake, are you eating well.” 

The knight unconsciously asked out loud. 

“I- I did. I had tomatoes growing in my garden.”

“Do you eat anything besides tomatoes?”

“I do eat other dishes once I get into the town. But tomatoes are my stable food.”

What? How could a person survive on just tomatoes alone? At this rate, the witch could collapse any time. Yoo Joonghyuk, being the person he was, couldn’t help but feel worried about the other. 

“You-“

“Dear customer, if you don’t need anything else from me, please leave. I still have some works to do.”

With that, Yoo Joonghyuk was chased out of the house. His left eyebrow twitched as he headed out of the forest. 

—

“Jingle.” 

The brain rang as Yoo Joonghyuk got off the boat. He didn’t know what possessed him but he somehow spent the whole morning making dumplings for a certain witch. Now, he was standing in front of the other’s house, his hand holding a box of chicken dumplings. 

As soon as he entered the house, Yoo Joonghyuk handed the witch the food box. The witch, seemingly surprised by his sudden visit, didn’t react at all. Today, the man was back to his usual brown robe, but his face was no longer obscured by the robe. Yoo Joonghyuk could finally admire the other’s silky black hair and lovely cute face in their full glory. Ah, they were just enchanting like how he imagined. 

“Erm- Excuse me?”

The man finally reacted. Even his squeak was cute too. 

“Don’t worry. I made them by myself and I didn’t put any poison in them.”

Yoo Joonghyuk did take a half day off to make the dumplings but the witch didn’t need to know that. Seeing no response from the other, Yoo Joonghyuk excused himself and headed toward the kitchen. The space was too small to be considered a kitchen by the knight’s standards but he paid it no mind now. He placed the box down on the dining table and went to the cupboard to find some cutlery. After a good 5 minutes of searching, Yoo Joonghyuk only managed to find a dirty bowl and spoon.

“Hey, would it kill you to clean up the house?”

He frowned while asking the witch. If Yoo Joonghyuk had to live in this messy house for a day, he would just die instead. After all, he was known for his obsession with cleanliness among the knights. 

“I have more important matters to attend to.”
The witch simply replied. 

After deeming that the bowl and spoon were clean enough to be used, he walked to the small table and signaled the witch to come to sit with him. As the other man sat opposite of him, Yoo Joonghyuk started to take notice of his face. Long black eyelashes, white smooth skin, and red plump lips. But the most beautiful out of them all was his eyes. Yoo Joonghyuk felt like looking up at the night sky brimming with constellations the moment he looked at them. 

“Try it.”

As his head was filled with the images of the witch, the knight handed the other a bowl of dumplings. The witch hesitantly picked up the smallest dumpling and gave it a few sniffs before bringing it to his mouth. As he chewed, tears streamed down his face out of a sudden. 

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know what to do upon seeing the sight of a crying witch. He hesitated at first, but he decided to do what his heart was telling him to do - wiping the tears off the other’s face. He gingerly wiped each one of them with his handkerchief while looking at the other’s expressions. They were unreadable, mysterious just like the man himself. 

—

After the incident, Yoo Joonghyuk grew closer to the witch. They decided to reintroduce themselves and the knight told the witch to call him by his name. He didn’t miss the look of embarrassment on the other’s face whenever he called him “Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t mind seeing it for the rest of his life. 

Instead of having lunch with his subordinates, the knight captain decided to spend his lunch break in the witch’s house. Since there were some major personnel rearrangements in the castle, there wasn’t much for Yoo Joonghyuk to do. Therefore, it wouldn’t hurt if he returned late after his break. 

For the time being, they were enjoying lunch together by the kitchen window. Kim Dokja was eating the katsu sandwich he made while Yoo Joonghyuk was reading a book he brought along with him. It had become some sort of habit for them, with Yoo Joonghyuk bringing the food and Kim Dokja enjoying them. Somehow, the way the witch’s eyes sparkled whenever Yoo Joonghyuk prepared a new dish made his heart melt. Slowly but surely, the knight was falling for this particular lonely witch. 

The two of them grew closer as their exchanges increased. Kim Dokja would start to tell Yoo Joonghyuk more of himself, like how his mother had passed away or how he had been living alone for the past 10 years. The witch told the stories in a nonchalant voice but the knight’s heart ached upon hearing them. The desire to protect the delicate man grew inside his heart day by day. 

“You had something on your face.”

As Yoo Joonghyuk was thinking about the witch in front of his eyes, he noticed a piece of shredded cabbage on the latter’s mouth corner. Before he could react, the knight swiftly picked it up with his finger. Kim Dokja widened his eyes, a lovely shade of red donning his face. 

“You seemed to be enjoying the food I made, Kim Dokja.”

He smirked. The way the other looked down with his ears reddened didn’t escape his eyes. 

“Is there anything wrong with that, Joonghyuk-ssi?”

The witch pouted. Cute, Yoo Joonghyuk thought.

“Nothing. Here I was thinking that you only like tomatoes.”

“No way. I hate them.”

Now that was something else considering the fact that the man basically lived off tomatoes not so long ago. 

“Seriously though, I really thought you would die of malnutrition before you could finish making my potion. Considering the amount of time and effort I spent, it would be a shame if you die before finishing the potion.”

The knight huffed. It really was a miracle that Kim Dokja could survive up until now with that horrifying diet of his. 

“Speaking of potion, when can you finish it? I-“

“I’ll finish it soon. Please come back in a week’s time, dear customer.”

It’s been a while since Kim Dokja last called him “customer”. The man stopped doing so ever since they exchanged names in the persistence of Yoo Joonghyuk. Yoo Joonghyuk looked up from his book to see a pale-looking Kim Dokja, his eyes suddenly lost all of their light. 

“Kim Dokja, what’s the matter? You look pale.”

The man surely didn’t look well. Was there something wrong with the food he made? 

“Nothing. Can you leave for today, dear customer? I suddenly remember that I have other urgent matters to do.”

Before he could process anything, Kim Dokja pushed him out of the house and closed the door in his face. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t help but wonder what he had done wrong.

— 

Yoo Joonghyuk kept visiting the witch’s hut daily for the next week. However, no matter how long he knocked and called, the door would never open. At one point, he was worried that something might have happened to Kim Dokja, but seeing how the hut’s chimney still had smoke coming out of it and sounds of human activities could still be heard from outside, Yoo Joonghyuk concluded that the man simply didn’t want to meet him. 

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t understand. What did he do to offend the witch? He seriously didn’t know what to do. For all his life, it was others that chased after him, not the other way around. Now, the knight captain was faced with a dilemma he had never met before. 

At this point, Yoo Joonghyuk paid the love potion little mind. While he did need to obtain it for Lee Seolhwa’s sake, he was more occupied with his crumbling relationship with the witch. He missed the times they spent eating lunch together, Kim Dokja telling him small stories of his life with a soft expression on his face. He missed the way the other attentively listened to his knight’s stories as if they were the most interesting tales in the world. He just… missed Kim Dokja. 

Today marked the 7th day he got chased out of Kim Dokja’s house. He had been knocking and standing for the past hour but there seemed to be no responses like usual. As he was about to leave, the door suddenly opened, revealing a small figure wrapped in a baggy brown robe. Kim Dokja had his hood on, which reminded Yoo Joonghyuk of the first time they met each other.

“Here you are-“

Yoo Joonghyuk, relieved to see the other man, greeted Kim Dokja with a smile on his face. But before he could finish his sentence, the witch shoved a glass bottle into his hands.

“Your love potion. I’m done.”

Wait, didn’t Kim Dokja tell him that it would at least need another 2 weeks to finish? 

“Please don’t worry about the payment. Goodbye and may we never see each other again. It was a pleasure working with you.”

Kim Dokja said the whole thing in one go before slamming the door in his face. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t process what was going on. He wanted to bang at the door, asking Kim Dokja to give him an explanation. However, his body didn’t listen to him as he kept staring at the crystal-clear liquid in his hand. 

So, it’s the end, huh? 

Yoo Joonghyuk thought as he slowly headed out of the forest. He didn’t notice a small head lurking out of the window, watching his back longingly. 

-TBC

[so-yabeans]

LIKE THE STAR

Naoya Zenin x Reader

Part 1 of "The Similes and Metaphors of Loving You"

You're saying I'm the one, but it's your actions that speak louder - I Love You So, The Walters

To be married to a man named Naoya Zenin was both a privilege and a curse.

First, bearing his clan's name alone has become a privilege not given to just anyone. That means, being a Zenin means you are extraordinary. You're not just an average. That's why from the moment she changed her last name to Zenin, she was more respected by people.

But she didn't like any ounce of that respect. Not a bit of it. She was once respected as a beauty, a rare piece of jewel in her clan, but now she has become nothing but Naoya Zenin's wife. She hated it. She hated how people saw her only with the title crowned to her when she married the man. Her very existence has been reduced to being someone else's wife. Please don't get her wrong. She loves Naoya but she couldn't help but question her worth. Was her worth limited to being his wife?

She studied herself noticing how her eyes were devoid of life. She missed how her eyes used to be full of life. She longed for the moments when she could still laugh and smile sincerely. What has she become now? She's nothing but a broken doll forced to bend into tradition.

She let out a bitter laugh as she pulled out the hairpin from her hair and studied the golden object in her hand. It was a gift from her husband during their first anniversary. The luster was still there compared to her who rusted upon her husband's acidic words. Another bitter laugh erupted from her, this time it was much longer.

Naoya Zenin. The name has brought her nothing but pain.

Naoya Zenin. The name has been nothing but a sharp knife to her.

Naoya Zenin. The name of the man she loved and still did even after all this time.

Silly her. Did she think she could change a man like him? Did she think highly of herself?

"I just wanted to believe in him." That's what she had said in the past but now she had lost all her will to believe in him.

She looked at the broken mirror of her dresser, an aftereffect of her banter with Naoya a while ago before he left for a meeting with his clan. He decided not to bring her because first, he couldn't bear to see his pathetic wife. And second, it was too late in the night for her to go out.

The mirror reflected her so well. She was broken. And they were both broken by the same person.

Her lips curled into a smile as she recalled the fight that occurred a while ago.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Not only that you couldn't give that damn head title, but you're also even going to disgrace my name? I told you to live your life quietly, didn't I? Why are you so pathetic? This is the last time, I'm going to let you off, woman. The next time, I'm not going to stop you."

His words echoed in her head. Insecurity fueled by her husband has begun to wilt her confidence away. She used to be a flower but now she is nothing, but her beauty has withered along with the light of her eyes.

"Why can't you become more like her?"

"How can you be so weak?"

"You think you'd catch my attention by speaking up at that meeting? You have no right, woman."

Ah, that nickname. Naoya would call her 'woman' when he was infuriated by her which is very often so she rarely heard her name slip out of her mouth except for their intimate moments in the bed, which is rare.

But then, if there's one good thing, she saw in him, it's that he never hit her physically. It was something she came to appreciate with a sharp-tongued man like him.

She placed the kanzashi on top of the letter on her dresser. She studied herself once again, smiling as she admired the white nightgown she wore. It was the same nightgown she wore on the night before her wedding. She remembered the smile on her face when she thought of her future husband. She was naïve back then. She didn't know that she was knocking on her hell.

Playing the song that she and Naoya both loved, she gracefully, just as she was always taught, stood up from the chair by the dresser and walked to the balcony. She smiled when she spotted the stars in the sky.

"What are you doing up so late?" The voice used to be her favorite melody but now it was nothing but nails on the chalkboard.

"Do you know that most of the stars in the night are already dead?" She asked and for the first time in her life, a genuine smile appeared on her worn out face.

"Just get to the point." Naoya sighed as he took off his kimono and started to get ready for the night. He was expecting his wife to come and help him, but it was like cold water was poured over him when he saw her climb up the balcony railings.

"You're right. I'm pathetic."

"Woman, get down-"

"I hope she takes care of you."

In the end, she couldn't curse him.

And for the second time in the night, she smiled genuinely.

Finally, she could be free.

masterlist | next part

[widowlurker]

outing myself as a hp brainrotter to ramble abt the Black Sisters

WARNING: ACCIDENTAL ATTEMPT TO WRITE FLOWERY LANGUAGE BY SOMEONE WHOS BASICALLY ILLITERATE

Cygnus: the youngest of his siblings. The most forgotten yet the most fortunate—with Walburga having descended into putting the mad in madness and Alphard declared a traitor for helping Sirius. Passive in all he did, happy to grow his branch on the family wreath tree enough to simply appease the Lords and Ladies. A once acceptable husband wilting away as his wife grew more desperate

Druella: An outsider in name and nationality. The youngest of her own scrutinizing family fleeing to England to not drift away in the chaos of high society. A subject of speculative whispers regarding whether or not she’ll too fall victim to the infamous Black Family Mania. What those same people who whispered that they were proven right don’t know is that that mania is not familial but a product of centuries of perfectionism. A woman reduced to a counterpart—a failed mother with 3 daughters contesting with Walburga’s 2 heirs. A mother who passed her own familial unfavorables to her daughters. A woman who saw herself in her third daughter and final child—a child she titled only in her head yet announced to everyone as her greatest failure—and named her not after the starry patterns of the Blacks but the flowery thorns of the Rosiers

Narcissa: A woman content to fade into the background as the pretty-faced third daughter of 3 children. A woman named after a natural beauty defaced by its grimy background. A girl who was not Black, Malfoy, or Rosier yet above all was loyal to whoever she called family—disregarding what they called her. A woman who saw the women in her life be called mad disgraces, malevolent traitors, and failures and upheld the scraps her branch of the family tree left her with not because it was anywhere close to the romance she dreamed for or the quiet life of obscurity she knew to expect but because no matter how she may lay awake at night comforted by the agony of her blood she couldn’t stand to break her mother further. A lady who married her best friend because she knew that’d be the best bet she had of a happy marriage, and had only one son however much she both longed for and dreaded a daughter.

Andromeda: Always picking up and picking up the pieces for the people around her, as all she’s ever known how to do is love. A woman who saw firsthand how her eldest sister was broken beyond repair despite her attempts and shielded her youngest from witnessing the truths she carried with her as she left her dreaded house (because she can’t possibly call it home, no matter how often her mother or sister—who can really tell the difference—did so, not even trying to act as they genuinely believed this could somehow be anymore than a fortress), her mother’s screaming voice no longer being able to echo in her. A woman who was not saved by the man she loved but floated up to the surface

And Bellatrix. Ohhh Bellatrix. A powerful woman broken and broken by curse upon curse and memory charm upon memory charm for daring. Daring to break against the rigid bark of a tree from which the sword that cut her into pieces was forged, daring to be the first of what many called failures but what should be called those who were failed. A woman who left claw marks in whatever semblance of power she had yet, like any other, fell limp as she took her last breath. A woman who died at the hands of a mother’s love as a woman who never got to know what love would be. A woman who saw a glimpse of herself in blue eyes (not cold and sharp like that of her blood, but like the stars she was named after and would lay on soft grass and needlessly watch with a blonde girl who saw too much and knew too much. A girl who saw a person in a woman who knew too little) before someone else took that from her too. A woman who never knew power and thought she wielded it even as she sat in a cell haunted by what doomed her to the fate she was only halfway through living

[rafent]

◜  ₊  —  𝓡  ˚  ₊   𝐍𝐈𝐋

When he wasn’t scared, when he wasn't crying, Nil was the dreamer. 

‘You and me and Nel. One day we could run away together—somewhere we can never be found; wouldn't that be nice?'

That’s stupid, Rafal would say only. So very stupid, he thought and longed to say further. No pair of twins ever survived to adulthood together, much less two twins and an extra who Nel- fullest and fittest of their brood- never knew even existed. But he allowed those stories and hopes and wishes to weave before his eyes. Not that he liked the sound of them but that he liked Nil’s voice. Because when Nil was dreaming there was no room left for crying.

‘Well, what about you then?’

Rafal made sure to tell him that he dreamed too. Just not in the same way. 'I don’t want to run. I want to kill our brothers and sisters. To be Father’s true heir.'

He saw it in his eyes, like it spooked Nil how much Rafal was willing. How normal he was. They were both failures, stains on the midnight honor of Father’s true form who couldn’t reflect him, stuck in chrysalis bodies that never metamorphosed further, but Nil was the abnormal one. He never aspired to become stronger or to become more than what he was. He never wanted to play the truest game of their blood or even that game in miniature; sparring or wrestling with his siblings to hone their strengths, flicking dark magic at each other in the emulation of some deeper, deadlier breath. 

Instead Nil was Nil. He plucked flowers to press and age so their beauty would last longer. He covered his ears whenever the Corrupted wolves howled. When he spoke of his sister he called her the prettiest and the kindest, not the strongest. Nil was Nil, so after he said his truth Rafal smiled. Not you, he assured when he smelled the fear on his brother. Never you. Even though words were weaker than paper.

'I trust you, Rafal. You would never hurt me.' That shy trust was an acceptance that hung steady on the faintest, thinnest line of Rafal’s promise. Surrounded by a sea of Fell Children who would swallow one another in one gulp given the chance and forget their promises on a turned back, on a closed eye. So easily shattered by each and every indomitable will to survive, burning stronger than the last.

Abnormal? Anomaly? Nil wasn’t the only one. Words mysteriously meant more to Rafal. He kept his promises no matter what they were. From the moment they’d found each other alone, they should have seen to it that only one had left alive, yet they forged a bond instead; linking fingers and hearts, trading secrets not blows, and not death. Strange was something they did, together.

…and that was that. Or what it could have been. Should have been. 

His feet squelched into Nil's footprints as he tracked them, tracing and tracing, then finding. A scene of mudsoaked blood and bloodsoaked mud all around with something small, something dirtied to grey- nearly black- in the middle like it had once been white and pink. He looked down at it with a strange twist of his arms around each other even though he wasn’t cold. Heart a knotted mass like his hair when he slept on the wrong side.

Looking into his half-brother’s face, even then he saw himself before Nil willed it to be. Like a piece of him that would never return, left right here. With him.

“Nil, I’m here,” Rafal crouched onto his knees beside him, but the darkest hour of Nil's thoughts wasn't for Rafal to own, his fizzling breath wasn't for his name. That person was. That person was—

“Nel,” the dying boy said, his wilting voice wedged in the space between a whisper and his silence forever. “She’s waiting for her dragonstone to come back, but she’s waiting for her twin more. I don't want to hurt her. Please, Rafal—”

Rafal understood. Rafal loved him so he understood. Nil loved him back so he trusted. Like this they were whole. He made his promise to him on a juddering breath. Later his fingertips brushed against his ribs as he disrobed him, wearing his skin though it were only a shirt, swapping their identities though it were only a name. By the time they were changed, transformed, his brother wasn't there anymore. His eyes no longer red, no longer shining, but two haunts of pink glass fogged to the color of bloody finger smears or rotting peachskin.

With a gentle hand Rafal closed them—no, "Nil" did.

When he wasn’t scared, when he wasn't crying, the true Nil was a dreamer.

And now he was forever dreaming.

[zorkaya-moved]

"I will be very upfront with you," he says, taking her hands into both his own, "mine is a path that leads to nowhere. I think it's always been that way." Zelimir tries to smile, but it is noticeably a pained smile. "I don't know who I am, I don't have a mother to weep for me, or a father to scorn me for not becoming his perfect son. I've got nothing on my name."

he holds her hands tighter. "the most real I've ever felt and been is with you, Zarina. listen, I know I suck at this whole thing. I know I'm not fit for any human relation. that's why I'm with you, I suppose. thank you, and please know you're very special to me." ( let them be soft or so help me as holidays treat AJSHDHRHR )

@furiaei

There are only the suffering and the hurt who crave the gentle embrace of death, finally being saved from this world's hardships and life's cruelty. A true salvation, a salvation within darkness and endless silence. A nirvana everyone seeks out to finally have a moment to not worry about the future, so they can cease to exist altogether. However, none have been so intimate with Death (her) as the Chief of Minos, a man with madness running through his veins, fire of rebellion lighting up his eyes, and cheeky cockiness in front of those who could become his end.

It doesn't matter to her who ends his life, because he's hers. He will forever be hers. This life, this beautiful and unique life will be hers after his death and he gave himself to her. On more than one occasion. His lips touched hers, his arms wrapped around her body, he witnessed the truth and the reality behind the envoy of Death. He listened to her humming, he laid with her in the casket, he accepted the gaze of sharp ichor and even awakened memories from years prior to her awakening as the sinner. The foggy reminders of a life that has already been buried beneath.

And while she had everything of his to claim, Zelimir had the ability to have all of her as well. He witnessed the blood of gods in her eyes, he took her cold hands in his, he knew the name behind [OAK CASKET] and he called it in such soft tone - a forbidden secret only shared between them both. His name may not even be his, his existence may be fleeting, but it's his because he exists here now and forever in her mind. He'll be remembered by the Listener of the Dead until the day she, too, perishes akin to a wilting flower in the graveyard she calls her home.

Zelimir welcomed her - Death - into his embrace and he never looked away in fear or anxiety. He looked at her and he kept looking at her. Even now, he holds her cold hands (despite the gloves) in his own, a light squeeze. The warmth he's been able to share with her - a warmth of a living person - is strangely warming, setting aside her subtly possessive urges when it comes to owning him, wanting him, adoring him, and ... perhaps, loving him. He is the holder of Shackles and she is a Maniac in love with death, but she might just be in love with one life. A life ever-changing, ever-bleeding, ever-sharpening to be the prettiest of knives to strike the ones who hold his leash. She wants to be there when it happens and when the blood of those who hold him back spill, and their lives (and their secrets) will become hers so she can share their last wishes with the one who killed them. As a simple showcase of her affections. Of her abyssal affections. Of her maddening adorations.

So when Zelimir speaks of how true and real he felt while being in her company, eyes of gold watch him, silently. The memories of their bond return in full power, reminding her of those tempting words whispered into her ears and the way she would be able to read his wishes by just one look alone. There were moments of silence where they'd sit together, his work and her work combining together so they'd ensure their time spent afterward would be fruitful. The silence between them at the MBCC could only be achieved within the office where the voices of the dead would not dare to take her attention from the Chief. She remembers the sensation of his touch, of his embrace, of his kiss, of his hot whisper against her lips with that familiar dark lipstick that got smudged from those moments of enjoying the world of living.

He's forced her to enjoy and take part in the world of living. The eyes she needed to look outside, he kept his promise and became her eyes in this new world. It's a blessing of the dead she'd take, taking it as an endless gratitude for keeping his life connected to his body. But then again, she became possessive of him. Others Sinners knew that Zelimir was owned by Death itself, but it was supposed to be only his death that belonged to her. His snuffed out life and his death... But then he made her want more, maniacally thinking over ways to fuel his experience in life so both the current and the deceased version of him would be hers. The Spider didn't matter, the Wolf didn't matter, the Bird didn't matter. He belonged to her, wholly and perfectly.

Perhaps, it's why his admission to her now made her usually calm gaze to have a moment of softening. The coldness would change, awakening some sense of strange warmth (life) to reflect in her eyes. Only for him, naturally, only for the man whose death will belong to her but she will grant him her life in exchange then. If she has his life and death, she'll give him her life while he still stands. Because afterward, he'll be the beloved voice she'll keep hearing in her head.

They'll be connected for all eternity, past death. After all, if you fall in love with Death, Death will wish to keep a piece of you close to it until the end of the world.

"Your path is one that has endless possibilities in its divergence but your end will be the same," she begins, eyes looking down from his face to their hands. Oak Casket offers him a light squeeze back, basking in the warmth his touch seem to provide her. Life and death. His life will be fleeting, chasing the nowhere but she will always remains at the very end of his journey. "The path that leads you nowhere will lead you to me, sooner or later. After all, your death belongs to me, Zelimir."

It's the same tune, but there is a hiding appreciation and softness to her words. The usually cold but soft hands would respond to his attempts with seemingly reassuring squeezes, or perhaps, she needs that reassurance herself to remember that he will not break their contract. It is obvious by now, there is no doubt about it. He shackled himself to her and she will be the very last lullaby he'll ever get to hear, enjoy, and pass away to. She must ensure her voice will ring in his head when he passes through the gates of death. Straight into her arms.

"We share a bond strong enough to know there is nowhere we could fit as well as we are here, right now, together," Oak then looks up at his face, looking into his eyes as a pleased hum rumbles in her chest. It's almost a purr, a high preference to be near her favorite person and someone who means to her enough to enter the world of living once more. Only until the candle of high light goes out. "You are my eyes in this world of living, granting me a possibility of seeing a world while walking the roads with you. And there is nowhere I'd rather be than by your side."

A moment of silence as she lets those words settle down in his mind before continuing, a gentler whisper only for his ears to hear:

"You are special to me as well. Just like I own a part of you, you own a part of me," meaning her [name] and her [eyes]. "I'll need no perfection from you, only your true, authentic self. From insanity to apathy, I'll follow you. And I'll forever be there, even at your end," the silverette then steps forward, bringing his hands to rest on her waist as she brings her gloved hands to cup his face and bring it closer to her own. "I'm yours, as you are mine. My Zelimir—"

And then, she kisses him. A sweet yet still a bit cold... A kiss from death.