#there's just so many memories and there's so much nostalgia attached to it

[urlocalwormtoday]

part of me wants to play The Isle Evirma again, but

the tedious process of growing a deino/carno/ stego/any other large creature for hours, to then just get jumped by a mix-packing group of like 20 tenos and 5 fully grown carnos is not the best way to spend time, nor is it the best feeling

the dark nighttime where you can't tell where any sound is coming from, paired with the less than amazing night vision is an absolutely terrifying experience I kinda don't wanna return to @_@

my laptop literally can't open it up anymore. a combination of the poor optimization and it just not working with my version I think ??? I looked into it at one point bc I was confused when I tried to open it up and it just. didn't. can't remember anymore, though that doesn't stop the longing to start playing a fresh deino like I had when I first started Evirma

[fashionteahouse]

hi lovely ! i absolutely love your writing ! i was wondering if you could do a paul x reader where the reader is new to la push, and moved from england. the reader goes on a walk to the beach and meets paul there and he imprints on the reader ? you could just make it a one time thing orrrr you could make it a series ? if it has potential ! i love your paul series, the out of my league one, i LOVE IT SO MUCH

heyy honey! thank you so so much, i appreciate you🥹💜 i would love to write this. i’m sure this storyline has potential ;) hope you enjoy :)

skyline to - paul x reader

Crunches of the earth was heard beneath you as you took your steps. Your eyes took in the surroundings as you finally found something to do in your new home. The environment was different. You moved to a different country. You wanted to soak in the memories here.

Thankful for La Push having a beach, the destination to get there was on your brain. The pocket sized music player was in your pocket with headphones attached to the sound. Placing the headphones on your ears, you walk along the beach that you finally wanted to reach. Not too many people were in attendance.

The song was sung in your ears. Calmness and contentment surrounds you. Soon, you hear something louder than the music that was playing, “Watch out!”

You turn and see a ball whizzing right in your direction, you try to move out the way but the ball knocks your headphones off onto the ground. It didn’t hurt physically but just in spirit. You just hoped the blow to them didn’t effect the production of sound.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” you hear a voice and you look up to see a guy with sharp, strong features, you were drowning in his eyes. It felt like he pulled you in his soul with just his eyes. Eyes were the window to the soul, yes, but it felt like everything and anything was promised. Nostalgia, but hopes for the future were mixed into what you were feeling.

“Everything alright?” a voice asks and you and the boy in front you, finally broke eye contact.

“Yeah.” the guy in front of you says and picks the headphones up that was still leaking out noise. He looks at them, extends them out to you and you take them back, “Thanks.” you say in a quiet voice.

Picking the ball up, and throwing it to the other people who were expecting him and the ball, he looks at you once more to bring his attention back to what’s in front of him.

You’re about to slide them back on your head until he asks you a question, “I didn’t break them, did I?

You reply, “No. They still work.”

He nods, taking note. Then, he furrows his eyebrows, “You’re not from here, are you?”

You shake your head, knowing your accent was a dead giveaway.

“Where?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know.

“England.” you answer back and he raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“Paul, come on!” a different voice says and you look and see that the two people that he’s with are waiting for him.

“I’ll see you around?” he asks, a tad of frustration on his face. You nod and watch him go back to his group.

While listening to music, you decided to tidy up your room, folding and putting things away. One song you picked, turned into other songs flowing through the speakers in your ears.

The lyrics were melodic and you found your mind thinking hard about what they could mean. A face smacked your thoughts and made you shake your head. You didn’t understand why you would think so deeply about the first guy who talks to you in La Push.

Your phone buzzes and you see friends from back home sending you messages.

“Is the weather nice?”

“How’s the food?”

“Send DEETS about the guys there”

You take your time and talk about how you feel at home. How you feel like your life would be different in a great way. You didn’t tell them about your encounter at the beach. You thought the feelings about the guy you were thinking about were going to fade as the cycles of day and nights continue.

The morning sun haunted you with its beams. Looking around your room, you were happy that the task at hand was finished. With the excuse being of wanting to treat yourself, you wanted to take yourself out to Port Angeles.

Window shopping and walking the streets, you smell food hit your nostrils nearby.

Walking past, looking at the skyline to the streets, you hear muffled laughs. You don’t know why, but your head snaps to the noise. You see the same guys you’ve seen at the beach, sitting at a table, poking fun about something and laughing.

The boy who helped picked your headphones up, wandered his eyes and seen you. Him slowly getting up and walking towards the door made you realize that you were watching him the entire time. You turn to walk away, feeling ashamed that you were staring at a stranger.

“Hey!” you hear and and turn around with hesitation deep in your bones.

“You could’ve said hi.” he says and walks steps towards you.

Blushing at the way that he’s looking at you, you debate but decide to lift your hand and wiggle your fingers. Your stomach flipped at the smile he gave you, causing you to feel nervousness a bit.

“What were you up to?” he asked you as he licked your image up and down with his eyes.

“Just..exploring a bit.”

“Are you hungry?” he asks and points to the restaurant that’s behind him. You take a look. It’s not something that you would want to eat. You didn’t want to be rude. You meekly shake your head.

“I can show you around if you want?” he asks.

You take a look at him. He seemed trustworthy to be around. He didn’t look like an ax murderer. To you, at least. His big body was just an outline for strength. The body walking moving closer towards you wasn’t threatening. He tilts his head down to get a better look at you.

“Um..Sure.” you say, feeling a bit small under his intense gaze. Happy with your choice of an answer, you two start a stroll.

You learn that you both love and appreciated the landscapes of the hometowns you two were from. The natural beauty bringing you two together to gush about the distinctiveness.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks you as you hold the car door.

You shrug a little, not being able to think of anything, “Nothing. Why?”

“Come out to the sea, so we can watch it together.” he tells you and makes sure you look him in the eye. Almost hypnotizing. You nod and form a small grin. He doesn’t take your eyes off of you. The only time he looked away was when he couldn’t see your car lights anymore as they disappeared down the road.

[genericpuff]

Why is the art so unappealing in lore Olympus now Persephone looks like a highlighter and maybe it’s just me but the proportions like the fingers in arms are soul over the place I don’t think they used to be this bad. Am I just looking at it with nostalgia or am I crazy ?

Honestly, nostalgia does play a huge part in it, even to this day there are times I look back on old S1 panels and go-

Actually here's a great example that literally just happened yesterday in the ULO Discord that nearly had me on the floor LOL This is from Episode 70:

Like I didn't even believe that that was real until I was told what episode it was from and I was just. Astounded and flabbergasted. The over-shading of the blanket that just makes it look like a really bad edit. Insane.

And yeah, there are a lot of old panels that hit different now that the rose-colored glasses have been removed, crushed, and thrown into the trash compactor.

I think that's why it makes it all the more amusing when people come into my inbox and ask me "wait, why did you like LO to begin with?? It's always been ugly as shit, I think you're just romanticizing it" because like... there's something to be said about art and subjectivity, even if something is ugly to one person doesn't mean it isn't beautiful to someone else. It's why I try not to be too mean towards the fans of this comic for still enjoying it, because while I definitely have strong opinions about how "LO has gotten worse" and what kind of following Rachel has cultivated (cough cough), there are also just as equally valid arguments that LO has never begin good to begin with that I can't necessarily disagree with now that I'm looking back on it with a more critical eye.

That said, there's tons of media that I enjoy that is objectively awful. Like y'all, you don't need to take my opinions about a dumb pink x blue fantasy romance comic seriously, I like Starfox Adventures-

Like yeah it's a badly made rushed piece of shit that was developed right on the ass end of Rare's glory days and was really an original IP (Dinosaur Planet) that got Frankenstein'd into a Starfox game so it could "sell better" for Nintendo, but I don't give a fuck, I love Starfox Adventures and some day I wanna be in the top 10 speedrunner leaderboards for it, which I know doesn't mean much because no one is speedrunning Starfox, but I do and no one can take that away from me dammit-

Anyways. Lore Olympus has, in many regards, always had "bad art". But "bad art" can and should still be enjoyed by those who find joy in it.

And in LO's case, the world it existed in when it launched was a lot smaller than it is now - more specifically, the world of Webtoons. We can look back and see how 'bad' LO looks and reads now because there are genuinely way better comics surrounding it. It was unique and refreshing and experimental back then... now it's just "that stupid blue and pink comic for horny teenagers".

In most cases I would consider that "cringing in hindsight" feeling a good thing because normally it means something has grown and that it seeming "bad" in hindsight would mean that it's outgrown itself and moved onto bigger things. But LO has the more unique problem of "its current stuff is shit and it's making us want the old stuff more, even if the old stuff wasn't good either". In that regard, LO is closer to being like Harry Potter. Remember when The Cursed Child came out at the height of Rowling being exposed for being a TERF and even people who liked Harry Potter didn't like The Cursed Child because it was just objectively worse overall (with or without Rowling's bullshit attached)? It made a lot of people go back and re-read / rewatch Harry Potter with a more objective lens and go "wait a minute guys, I think we only adored these books so much because we were 12 when we read them". Often times it's the good memories we have surrounding certain things that make us have the opinion about them that we do.

Of course, LO is definitely not as politically weaponized as Harry Potter is, so that's where that comparison ends. But my point is that LO is definitely in a situation where it's been riding off the same privileges it had back in 2018 - having an 'experimental' art style while also utilizing tropes and characters that were VERY popular at the time (remember that 2017-18 was when Tumblr was at its height of H x P "Hades was a chill accountant guy who wore socks and sandals and didn't cheat on his wife like Zeus did" fantasizing) - and thinks that those same tricks and tropes will still work today.

Because of this, the art in LO really, really hasn't aged well, even the stuff that we look back on fondly. But I think it's the panels that we specifically think of when remembering "old LO" - the ones that stuck in our memories the most - that are the ones that make us miss or just not care about the panels that don't look good (the panels that make people question why we ever liked it to begin with).

We liked it because of how it made us feel to look at panels like these-

Those genuinely wonderful panels that we think back on the most don't exist separately from the bad panels, they exist in spite of them. Even if we can look back on panels like these and pick out problems in the lineart or the proportions or the color travelling outside of the lines, that can't and shouldn't change how those panels made us feel at some point or another. And that's why when people ask me "why were you even into LO in the first place" I don't have any one answer, because I can't fully explain how something made me feel to justify why it's good to someone who can see from the outside - without rose-colored glasses - that it evidently isn't. It's very much a "you had to be there" type of thing.

Unfortunately, nowadays even the 'best' LO panels in S3 still don't come close to what the S1 panels accomplished - because for many of us, the rose-colored glasses are gone, we can't appreciate the good among the bad because we know now how bad it truly is and so the good just feels like wasted attempts at trying to recreate something it can no longer be. It "came back wrong" so to speak.

LO came back just regular. But our journey to resurrecting it changed us to such a degree that even its closest intimacies are now foreign to us. Sorry dude.

This is still probably one of my favorite panels out of the entirety of S3 for being as close to "old LO" as I've seen since S2, and even it feels like a mistake, an accident, how could a panel like this exist in S3 when so much of it is a dumpster fire? It's like a flower growing in the ruins of an apocalyptic wasteland.

But wasn't that always the case? Isn't that 'always' what LO has been, since the very beginning? A poorly cobbled together mess of writing and panels that, every now and then, manages to leave an impression that makes you feel something? Did we ever truly know LO? Or have we just been relying entirely on an idea of it that we've built up in our heads that when it does do exactly what it's evidently always done (even if not made apparent until looking back on it in hindsight) we think it "came back wrong"?

[tcfactory]

Brainrot of the day is all about people mourning the OG Shen Qingqiu, it just happens somewhere where Shen Yuan can't see because he doesn't frequent the places where Shen Jiu used to withdraw when he got anxious or wanted to paint/play music/meditate in peace.

It all starts with Shang Qinghua setting up a kinda memorial - just a pile of rocks, really - but vibes and grief make it so that each time someone discovers it and remembers Shen Jiu they add to it. Someone carves a proper stone for the memorial - no name on it, obviously. Not a fan either, because the new Shen Qingqiu uses fans too. Bamboo stalks, a painter's easel and a pipa - he never played it in PIDW, so Shen Yuan has no idea that it was Shen Jiu's favorite instrument. The guqin is what they teach to the disciples when they are first learning music, so he sort of just assumed that's the one instrument Shen Jiu played.

Ning Yingying, Ming Fan, Mu Qingfang, Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua... even Qi Qingqi starts missing him when his spy network starts falling apart without him. The list of people visiting grows until it becomes a whole thing to seek the memorial out when they miss the old Shen Qingqiu. To offer him a song or a snack or burn incense on his (chosen) birthday...

Cultivators are good at many things, processing grief is not one of them. If it was left to them they would still mourn him a century later as if he died yesterday.

Of course it's Shang Qinghua's fault when something changes. He's visiting the memorial after a very draining argument with Shen Yuan about how much Shen bro is neglecting his peak (he might as well not be a peak lord anymore because he wants to spend all his time with Binghe) when Mobei picks him up one day and takes note of the memorial. And the next time Mobei finds some miraculous rebirth plant (they've been keeping an eye out for something that can bring back Zhuzhi-lang and fix Tianlang-jun) he buries the spares there.

It should be nothing, without a body or even a soul to latch onto. Shen Jiu's presence is mostly gone from the world - except from this one place, where everyone hoards their grief in secret, sharing memories where they can't offend the new Shen Qingqiu.

It's not enough to call a drifting, shattered soul back to life.

Not until Tianlang-jun. He is on his way off the mountain after delivering a thank-you couched in the most infuriating wrapping he could muster to master Shen for his help in identifying what miracle cures were needed to fix him and his nephew up. He sought him out on Qing Jing because at least here his son can't pick a fight without consequences. Still, he's taking the scenic route as a form of spite, so that he can linger as long as possible without giving them an excuse to kick him off the mountain.

The clearing is thick with the presence of someone, a soul that is very much not the peak lord his son is so infatuated with. It's somehow familiar, in the way of people you used to regularly pass on the street remain, even after you no longer live on that street. It takes him a while to remember.

Su Xiyan didn't have 'friends'. Even her 'not-friends' (very much friends in truth, his beloved was just strange about her potential attachments to others) numbered so few he could count them on one hand. Only one of them liked music and arts enough that she introduced them to each other when they met by chance at a recital. They have only met once or twice, but Tianlang-jun carved his memory into his heart, as he did with everything to do with Su Xiyan.

What a curious thing for another Shen to linger so prominently on this peak.

Perhaps it's nostalgia that guides his hand to spill just a few drops of his blood on the dirt. It's not a proper path back, but it's a handhold, if Su Xiyan's last lingering friend wishes to claw his way back to life. Perhaps it's spite, because among all the people that frequent this place and leave their grief dripping over the rocks and grass, he can feel neither master Shen nor Luo Binghe.

Tianlang-jun isn't around for the fallout when Shen Jiu makes his triumphant return, but that's fine. It sounds like it was an unnecessarily explosive affair (Maybe it wasn't his smartest move to add heavenly demon blood to the divine miracle lotus root, but in his defense he had no idea that was there. He assumed, from the general vibe of the clearing, that it was just a plain old grave with a soul that clings through guilt or regret or resentment or, because humans are fascinating and complicated, all of the above). Rumors are always better than reality anyway (especially the ones filtered through Liu Mingyan and the book club) and this one is juicy enough to keep the cultivators gossiping for the next century.

He'll swing around when things have calmed down again, eventually. He wants to meet the new heavenly demon of Qing Jing Peak.

[grapejuicestyless]

i’m rlly sad summers gone but like I have a winter request for conrad so we good !!

fem reader (conklinnn ofc) and conrad used to date but then had a messy breakup so now everyone is in college and yn doesn’t have anywhere to go because everyone is off doing something for winter break so she takes stevens car and drives down to the summer house and conrad shows up a day later and she’s freaking out. They both stay there the whole week and romantic feelings and nostalgia builds up again 🤌🏻

you can add some of your own stuff too because your soooo creative and your work is golden!! thank you:)

Peace.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Angst to fluff!

Summery: After a hard loss, both in a relationship and with the severing of the ties of her past, Y/n must learn to let go in order to gain what she so desperate wants back.

Snowfall is always overlooked. People see it as more of an inconvenience than as a gift. Each little white flake falling from the sky seems like nothing more than a mushy ball of frozen water made to block the roads and keep kids out of school, but the closer you look the more complex they are.

What was once so horrible becomes something beautiful, something unique. There is no other thing like it, each flake is different even by one branch in the pattern. It’s sad how many people are so quick to dismiss it and pout out their windows. White was never their favorite color and the cold was never their favorite temperature.

At this time of year, I usually considered myself lucky. I had a family who cherished each snowfall and a mother who would have hot-coco ready on the table for when our red cheeks and icy hair would become too much and we would finally come back inside to melt and warm up again. Each winter break my younger siblings, Steven and Belly would be attached at my hip. Having an older sister who only grew more and more, our time together always felt limited. So we spent each day in the living room. Playing the Wii with Steven and Barbies with Belly. I would read with my mom and cook with my dad. It was all so perfect. My favorite time of the year.

I used to joke with Conrad that college didn’t hold the same amount of excitement around the season because people were just as bitter and cold all year round. I called him cold hearted too because he thought it was funny. He laughed and kissed me then. I wonder if he would laugh now. Even if we no longer shared a stocking and cozied up by the fireplace impossibly close declaring our quiet loves for each other. I wonder if he still thinks fondly of the winter like I do now that it’s tainted with old memories of us.

Usually, during the winter I would drive down to Boston. It took some convincing for Laurel to allow her daughter to drive so far in such intense weather, but she knew where my heart belonged. It was the holidays and she was just as jolly as the rest of us, so she would always agree. There, I would bring gifts for all the Fishers. I didn’t have enough money to afford gifts and college, so everything was homemade. Every year I would apologize, but Susannah and Conrad always claimed to love it. Jeremiah wouldn’t say anything, but the smile on his face was always genuinely happy, so I think he liked them just as much.

Conrad would take my mitten clad hands after. Even covered in thick wool he managed to clasp his hands fully around mine, eager to get me alone. We’d slip away into his room, my cheeks red and eyelashes covered in snowflakes and his eyes wide and smile full. Behind closed doors, we could be as affectionate as we wanted without gags of jealousy disguised as disgust from Jeremiah or swooning from Susannah over how cozy we looked.

I remember how I believed my hips were made with dips so his hands could fit perfectly in them. How his arm rested on my waist so tight, I didn’t need a blanket because he kept me warm. No fireplace or layers of coats could light the flames in my heart and keep me warm in the coldest winters like Conrad could.

He said summer was his favorite season when he met me, but now he favored winter because it reminded him of me. I asked what would happen if something were to happen to us, just to tease him then. He got serious, I still remember the look on his face when he told me I would always be his favorite thing. How winter would forever remind him of me and no matter what, nothing could change that fact.

It was our own little secret oasis. A utopia of our own confined within the four walls of his childhood bedroom. When it snowed, we’d play in the snow like children and when it stormed we’d make forts to watch our favorite winter movies. It was a dream I never wanted to end, I was foolish to think it wouldn’t.

By spring, it felt like he was tired of me, of who I was. No amount of effort could keep Conrad beside me. I became someone he wasted his time on rather than someone he begged to be around. My skin was like fire to his touch, his eyes avoidant. It all came to a head when I broke down in late May.

“Why, why am I not enough?” I begged him then, I wanted to know what my problem was. Why I couldn’t be more than what I was now. Why we couldn’t go back.

He shrugged his shoulders, looking past my left shoulder. He looked distant. He knew it just as well as I did, we were walking on eggshells.

“Because you’re just not.” His words were bitter, knives stabbing me through the heart and ripping out. There was no reason, he didn’t even try to make the gashes in my heart better.

“Bullshit. I do everything for you! I give you everything!” It came out more as a question than a statement. I wasn’t as sure about what I once believed so firmly now that Conrad was showing how he felt.

“I guess it wasn’t enough then.” His eyes were watering. We were already talking in the past tense, we were over. He didn’t have to say it, neither did I. It was as clear as the freckles on his face, there was no amount of mending that could pull us back together.

In my mind I could only remember those final words we spoke to each other. The first hour of our long argument was washed from my mind for my own sake. What should’ve been tattooed permanently in my brain was gone the second we were over. Maybe if I could remember it fully, each insult and every word he used to put me down and make me feel small, I would’ve been able to feel justified in my anger. I could talk shit with my friends, shit on him to my mother. But even in my heartache, I couldn’t find reasons to be mad at him.

Conrad always went through so much on his own. It would be selfish of me to believe that he was completely okay when things ended. It was messy and sudden the way it happened. He was the biggest dick to me, but I couldn’t blame him for what he did. Not then, not now. Part of me still loved him. Part of me would still die for him in secret. He was my first love, all I knew when it came to my feelings. I let him rule my heart, my decisions. I didn’t show up to Cousins that summer.

Now that it was over, no ties binding us together, no overbearing reason to drive down to Boston for the weeks leading up to the holidays where we’d all finally be together again, I have no where to go. Steven was old enough to be on his own now, a freshman at Princeton. One of his rich friends had dropped by within the first twenty four hours to drag him off to his families vacation home. I hadn’t even set up the Wii yet. Belly, my littlest sibling who I adored more than anyone else I knew was more distant than Steven. The stress of deciding between Finch and Jeremiah or some state school with the guarantee of being on volleyball was eating her alive. Back then, I would’ve told her not to lose sight of her dreams and life because of some boy, but here I was doing the same thing. I stayed quiet and let her decide what she wanted.

My mom was gone just like Steven. Away to talk about her book with other critically acclaimed writers and producers. My dad was out of the picture. He wouldn’t be back until Christmas morning. He was never really present after the divorce, but he’s a good man and he tries his best. He just works a lot. It hurts to not be able to enjoy the holidays like I used to, but I can respect why everyone’s away.

Somehow, I end up in Stevens drivers seat. I’ve never had a car of my own. While Steven spent weeks searching the internet for a cheep car, I spent my time studying for finals and applying to colleges. I never had the time. He gave me his keys before he left. He said I could take his car anywhere I wanted as long as I didn’t ruin it. Each dent in it, I would owe him ten bucks. It wasn’t much, but to a struggling college student, ten dollars in my bank account might as well have been him asking for hundreds.

“Belly, I’m heading out. Call me if you need me, okay? I might not be back for awhile.” The words I chose were ominous. I didn’t tell her where I was going, why I was going or how long I’d be exactly, but she didn’t care enough to ask. So I climbed into Stevens car and let my playlist shuffle. I imagine myself in the situations my favorite artists write about and sing along like I can relate to their upper class parties and juvenile activities. It keeps my mind off of where I’m going.

It’s not like I got in the car set on heading to the one place that once swore to never step foot near again, but when I recognize the signs on the highway pointing me in the same direction, I’m suddenly set on it.

The sting of the breakup lingered like a tattooed kiss, a reminder of something so special that was now gone. I wouldn’t let him ruin the place that was once so special to our families.

Pulling up to that driveway, I remember how the weeds would grow over the gravel by July and how Steven and Jeremiah would stay out for hours plucking at them to make Susannah happy. How the grass held the imprints of our small bodies rolling around the hills and daffodils. The sand was forever glued into the fabric of our favorite t-shirts and the salt air is what we smelled of until December washed it away.

We were always so close here. Despite the rifts and the problems that happened between us. Not blow out fight or silent treatment could ever separate the Conklin’s and the Fishers from each other for long.

I looked back on how I felt at home. How together was something that I never even questioned. Steven would be by the fireplace yelling at the television and Belly would be begging him to quiet down. Laurel would be curled up in the corner scribbling things into a notepad and dad would try to sneakily move the elf on the shelf.

We were older now. The wii wasn’t all that special and Belly longed for the chaos she once hated. Steven preferred his friends and mom and dad fell out of love so mom could learn to love her work more.

I pulled into the large house through the garage. I knew the code by heart, it was my phone passcode. I figured that if I wanted to stay attached to homeliness so badly I could be where I learned what love was the best.

In my head, even now I always believed that no matter how long it would go untouched, the summer home would always be bright and warm. Smelling of Susannah’s candles and Belly’s sticky iced teas.

Stepping through the front door, it was dark and cold. My breath was less visible than in the outside, but the light and heat didn’t bounce from wall to wall like it always did.

It took me a few minutes to find the correct switch to turn up the heat. I cranked it until my socks burned on my feet and a sweat covered the top of my forehead. It was comfortable, I could sink into my own chunky sweater.

It was my mothers, the blue and white striped sweater I wore. She was gifted it by Susannah in their late college years but it never quiet fit her because she was so short. It fit big, but it didn’t sag at my knees or gather at my wrists as much. It smelled like my mom and reminded me of Pennsylvania skies.

The warmth from the heat and the comfort from my clothes set me in a slump, my eyes drooped. I hadn’t even turned on any lights yet, hadn’t gone up to my room to make the bed. I was sat in place on the permanently indented couch. Though my body curled into the spot where I always laid during movie nights, my head fell where Conrad’s lap would’ve been. To imagine we were all just as happy, as close made me feel fuzzy. If I tried hard enough I could even hear his voice. Calling for me, like a dream.

The sun peaked through the windows and the dust that collected on the once neatly kept glass projected tiny shadows and spots across the hardwood floor. The couch was warm with my body heat and other than the faint whisper of the wind, it was peaceful.

A melodic whistle blowed through the open gap between the living room and the kitchen. It was smooth yet broke when the song grew too high for the deeper voice that carried the tune.

Rubbing at my eyes, my feet swung out from under my thighs, I wiped away any drool or signs of slumber. Still, clearing my complexion did not rid my body of the tired achey feeling and the small blurring of my vision. My brain was following behind my body, every caution sign to who was here at this time thrown to the wind.

Mugs clanked together clumsily, my nose burned with the strong scent of coffee beans. It was chillier in the morning here than how I had left it at night, I could feel the tip of my nose turning red and growing colder.

A taller boy stood hunched over the countertops, a spoon clinking around softly as he stirred around something in the mug. His shirt hung loose on his body but his pants fit just right.

His hair was wavy, but only just at the ends. Under the strong smells of early morning caffeine, I could faintly still pick up the scent of sea salt and a spice I couldn’t name. It was vanilla like but also had a lingering smell of oak and woods. It was my favorite smell.

“Conrad..?” It clicked in my brain that the handsome boy hanging around the summer home wasn’t some pick me up sent from heaven. The reason behind my instant admiration for such a simple, domestic task was because of how well I knew and once loved the boy. The name fell from my lips quietly, like I couldn’t believe it was true.

Spinning around, I met his blue eyes. I watched his lips twitch, fighting against some kind of emotion from spreading across his face and the light in his eyes falter. He looked blank, unaware of how his lack of enthusiasm of our reuniting was crushing me inside.

“Figured you’d want coffee.” He was right. He still knew me like the back of his own hand and that was the worst part. I hadn’t changed, I never would. He would always know me and it hurt to know I trusted him like that at one point just for him to leave. He even made it in my favorite mug.

A light blue ceramic mug that still had Belly and Conrad’s fingerprints in the clay and visible brush strokes across the top. They made it for me when we were still little. It was my favorite gift from her because they made it as an apology. For breaking my old vase I made for my mom in art class. They meant to harm and felt horrible, I cherished their kindness more than anything.

“No…no. I’m all set.” Crossing my arms and clearing my throat, I set my eyes on the ground and leaned against the doorframe on the wall. We didn’t speak after that, he didn’t move. Sucking in his lips, I heard him sigh almost disappointedly.

“So…” He tried to start, I was too scared to listen. Not of him, god I could never be scared of him. But of what he could want to say.

My eyes flicked over the dents in the floor, I discovered marks I hadn’t seen before. Just when I thought I had everything memorized. When I thought I knew everything, when I thought I knew him.

“You know, uhm…I think I’m going to settle in.” Nodding at him quickly, I all but ran to the stairs. My hands gripped at the banister so quickly, I felt skin pull skin. It tore just under my fingers beginning, the top of my palm. I swore I heard him call after me, but maybe it was the ringing in my ears.

I came here to get away. In search of some solace, I grasped at the tattered strands of my childhood to find that I had held on too long. In my own journey, by some sort of fate, I dragged along a deeper part of those memories with me.

I spent that morning stowed away in my bedroom. I left the door ajar. The air was chilly still, and the air dusty. The heat had rarely been used. Only on the rare occasions in which Susannah would find reason to escape down to the beautiful town of Cousins. Simply to watch the early snowfalls or sparkling lights decorating the center of the town. Usually when I would get settled into my own room in the summer home, each knickknack would be thrown carelessly over the bureau top and shoved in the forever empty bedside table drawers. I would procrastinate making my bed last. I hated the damned fitted sheets and the wrinkles I couldn’t flatten for days. I hated the way that the corners never stayed. My body stretched as far as it would go, yet I could never quiet hook the fabric far enough to keep it settled.

Today was no different. My blood boiled the same, but it mixed with an unfamiliar warmth. How endearing it was to be able to relive such a memorable moment of my summers again even after tragedy struck the once uniting household.

“Fuck.” The sheets flipped up. The full sized mattress was far too wide to allow my arms to stretch across the full width of its body and hook the corners over far enough to where they wouldn’t slip. Each move resulted in a different kind of release with the bedsheets. Each time I ended up wrapped up in the thin cotton sheets.

The clock ticking on my bedside table taunts me. Reminds me of how long I’ve been tangled around in my bed. If it weren’t so humiliating, I would’ve asked for help. But I created a mess. My feelings, one’s that Conrad had so clearly buried as he was able to be kind and cordial towards me while I panicked like a fish out of water. So I hop around from corner to corner desperate to finish my task.

“Y/n?” The name burns the way it rolls off of his tongue. Like even with me gone, he had practiced pronouncing it in the mirror, whispered it to himself each night. It was like we’d seen each other the day before, the way it came out. Breathless and light.

The moon hung over the house, illuminating thin strips of shine through the windows that led from the floor to the very bed I was sprawled across.

Sighing heavily, I threw my head back. Hair fell in front of my face, tickling the bridge of my nose. I saw Conrad hesitate. His hand flinched out from where it was tucked behind the doorframe. He set it on the white wood frame.

“Can I help?” It was innocent enough. Maybe he was sick of the sound of my knees rubbing against the mattress. Or the way I grunted every few minutes. I stumbled around my room all day fixing it up, I almost forgot how loud it could’ve been.

It felt sour to accept it. Even if it were as innocent and kind as it seemed. Conrad had a glimmer of hope in his eye and his lips upturned. He looked so handsome still, nose pinker from the slight chill and eyes still just as deep blue.

“No thank you.” I huffed. I tried to sound annoyed, something that was hard to do when you weren’t really all that annoyed at all. Resistant was the only similar thing I could place a name to. I saw the wag Conrad’s smile faltered, his eyes looming with a dark shadow, masking the vibrant sparkle.

“Come on, don’t be so stubborn, please? You’ve been at it for hours, just let me help.” Stubborn. Just like my mother and his. Each of us were always set to do things on our own. But this was far more than just genetics at this point. This was my own grudge I was holding. This was my pride and my responsibility over my emotions acting. No matter how nice the gesture, I still refused, gnashing my teeth.

“Oh, so suddenly you care?” It was a lot more mean than I meant it. I know how much Conrad cares. How much he always has. He doesn’t have the best way to show for it, but in the end you always know it. It was a mistake, an instant regret. I watched how his face contorted. He wasn’t just disappointed now, but genuinely hurt by my own dig at his insecurities.

His whole life, Conrad always feared he wasn’t enough. He couldn’t give enough, couldn’t be enough. He always talked himself down, creating a false standard in which everyone else was above him, out of his league. He was insecure. He didn’t need reassurance, he knew what kind of love was real and what was fake, but the fact that maybe I had thought the same crushed him. I could tell.

His silence hung over us so heavy, a knife could slice it. His jaw stuttered and his eyes blinked slow. A loss for words. I wish he could just yell at me. Fuel my fire, make me feel less bad about what I said. Less guilty about the fact I couldn’t get over us when he could. Conrad didn’t deserve my emotional daggers directed at his heart simply because we split. I know Conrad, I always have. His method of leaving was cruel, but the boys heart was in the right place always.

“Fuck!” The sheet snapped back. I had enough. In all seriousness, I should’ve stopped to talk to the boy who was so clearly hurt by the door. A girl, a guest in a house that once felt just as much as hers as his was there in a now occupied room throwing insults unprovoked when he was trying to be nice.

Standing, I stumbled past him clumsily again, taking a spare blanket that hung off the end of the bed with me. I couldn’t take it. His stares, the silence, the sheet, my own guilt, my thoughts. I needed to be out of that sickened room.

“Y/n…” Again, the call was faint. A whisper in my head whose only goal was to make me stop. I didn’t turn. It was unfair, the whole thing. To me, to Conrad. I decided to sleep on the couch.

My back ached. The plush cushioning under my back too soft, too worn in. A good remedy, a great place for a quick nap. But it hurt after more than a few hours. The fabric rubbed harshly, the pillows sunk in. My hips popped when I stood.

The sun was shining through the windows, air crisp. Heat finally reached all corners of the large house and the cob webs were finally swept away. The magic of summer wasn’t there, but it felt homely. A good alternative to the sad loneliness of my own bedroom at home.

The house was still, the kitchen untouched and an empty mug in the sink. It was stained in a ring from where the old drink had been and had little brown streaks from where the coffee dripped off of the sides. The counter tops were cold, despite the heat inside. The floor was quiet, there was no shuffling. It led me to believe that the only other occupant was still asleep.

Heading up the stairs, I picked at my old clothes. The discomfort came from multiple things. The way my clothes stuck to my body, my teeth didn’t feel right in my mouth. My hair was knotted. I looked fine, but nothing felt right. The only way to describe it was that when waking up after a rough couple of nights, it felt like my skin didn’t fit right over my bones.

My door was wide open. The hinges bent all the way back, the light bled through the curtains. My already slow steps came to a halt when the threshold fell behind my legs. My bed was decorated with the same blue floral design it always had during the summers.

The pillows were placed where I always had them, and my blankets were hung so neat on the bottom of my bed. My fingers ran over the soft fabric like it wasn’t really mine. Like I was admiring a sample from a store, wishing it were mine. It was always so pretty.

My thumb hooked over the folded edge very carefully. I didn’t want to mess with the perfectly made bed. More importantly, I didn’t want to crease the remaining hand prints that laid in the center of the bed.

The plushy duvet left residue from bigger hands. Spread along the bends, from the center down. Proof that someone had truly tried their best to perfect it.

Looking under the top, not only had each layer been placed, but the fitted sheet. I could see it now with all its layers peeled back. The thought that even after my initial attempts to push away, to be mean, to hurt him, that Conrad had still wanted to help me made me feel warm. I wasn’t sure why my heart was fluttering for a boy I swore I hated. But my cheeks were red and my knees felt weak. I always did love his acts of service.

I didn’t plan on showering, but my skin was sticky with sleep and my heart was pounding too fast. I hated the fact that Conrad was too good for everyone in his own special ways. I hated the way he still cared and the way he remained so observant even in our absence. Most of all, I hate the way I reach for his shampoo in the shower. Longing for the scent of him to linger on me for just a little longer. How funny it is that we’ve changed so quickly and yet not at all. We used to share our hair products. He kept a hair tie for me in his bedside table. I had a drawer of clothes in his room, he had some in my closet. He went from my everything to just something in my life. Yet, with all this change I still reach for the familiarities of what we once had. My hand still searches the shower for his conditioner. My feet still take me to his door to find a shirt I like. What we had is gone, crushed under the weight of our separation, but my muscle memory pulls me back. The heart is a muscle, one that forever beats for Conrad Fisher.

I sit in the corner for longer than I lather the soap across my skin. My body is curled up against the cold tiles. I feel pathetic doing so. How small I’ve made myself. Not only mentally, but physically. I feel weak at how little self control I have. I think back on the past year of my life and I regret each decision I’ve made leading me here suddenly.

Was I not enough for Conrad? I know it’s not his reasoning behind his leaving, but I feel like the theory becomes more and more plausible the longer I think back on how lonely I’ve been. So stuck on my own problems, I forget how little I see my family. How Belly has grown without me. Her friends, her lovers. She is independent, she knows her path. Steven has matured. He understands feelings, he’s valedictorian. His brains lead him through life, he no longer comes to me at midnight to ask for help with math. I no longer review his essays or read his made up stories in the living room. We are two different siblings who once spent every moment together. My mother is nose deep in her own promotion with her books. She is succeeding while my father is going on dates and moving on. I am stuck in the same spot, forever thinking of the past, I can not move on.

I am scared by the knowledge that my family is no longer dependent on me. A scab is forming over the wound of the fact that Conrad has left, I am not needed. I hope the warm water fading into a cooler drizzle will hide the way my eyes are puffy and red. The streaks of water on cheeks will become streams of the shower. I am strong and resistant like my parents, but I am scared to admit that I have real fears. Ones that control my life. I will never tell them how I breakdown, how my heart is breaking and I am falling off the pedestal.

It’s more lively now then it was just an hour ago. The birds are gone, on vacation away in the warmer weather while the cold covers New England in a chilling blanket. I hear the mugs clattering from the hallways and the soft humming passing through his pink lips. He hears me before he sees me.

“Coffee?” He motioned to the brown liquid, steaming while it poured into the glass pitcher. Rubbing beneath my eyes, I could feel the weight of my eye bags heavy on my skin. My throat was coarse, hands aching from how hard I had grasped onto the shower walls. I hid behind the island counter on the stool. My body curled up into the baggy clothes covering my body, my knees hugging into my chest as close as possible.

“Yes, please.” I mumbled softly, trying not to show any weaknesses. Conrad knew me better than that. The way my lip twitched into a fake smile, how my eyes were more avoidant that usual. Even in my heavy feelings, my eyes were always drawn to him. I was closing myself off.

A beat passed. Conrad’s attempt at conversation had fallen short, right by my feet.

“How’d you sleep?” He turned to me, freshly brewed coffee sloshing around in the same mug as yesterday. He placed it in front of me, but he turned away again to pour his own cup. It wasn’t to further distance himself, creating a divide all while I was shutting down, but to give me room to breathe in a space I was so clearly suffocating in.

“It was okay.” I sighed, hand holding my head, my eyes closed. I imagined myself laid with my back pressed against plush pillows and my childhood bedroom fairy lights hanging over my head. It was still winter, but the atmosphere in my daydream felt of summer.

“I’m glad, then. That it wasn’t so bad, I mean.” He corrected himself, afraid of a wrath inside of me that didn’t exist to him anymore. It never really had, my emotions had only been misplaced yesterday.

Often I’ve been told that my words shoot to kill when I’m mad. I insult and belittle myself more than others, but my mother has no problem with bringing up the few times I targeted my feelings at Steven or Belly. How little I made them feel, how guilty I felt. I threw up once, after yelling at Steven. He hadn’t cared for it, fighting was what siblings did. But remembering how I tried to hurt him made me sick. I felt the same after insulting Conrad.

Nodding my head, I pursed my lips into a thin line. My eyes blinked away any dryness, I inhaled a deep breath.

“Hey, uhm…thank you, by the way.” I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands, hovering over the cup of coffee to revel in the hot steam hitting my face.

Conrad turned around, leaning against the counter. His hands pressed up behind him, firm but his face was soft, glad.

“I shouldn’t have…you didn’t deserve that.” My eyes flickered between the floor and the folding of my sleeves over my thumbs. My skin was cold, my hair wet on the back of my neck. I had a lump in my throat.

“Y/n?” His voice was gentle, closer than before. I saw his elbows press against the counter top, just mere inches away. I felt even more awkward, littler than before somehow.

I hummed. But the coarseness in my throat made it come out as more of a rumble. I choked on the growing lump, my nose burned.

“We don’t have to avoid each other.” He said it like that was so easy. Like everything was resolved by him simply stating that he didn’t want to face the consequences of our actions.

“I know.” I brought the edge of the mug to my lips and blew. Steam clouded my vision, the wet heat felt nice on my cheeks.

“Y/n.” He said more firmly.

He wasn’t angry, but he wanted my attention. My eyes flickered up to his. They were darker now. Swarmed with so many emotions, it was hard to grasp onto what he was feeling. I set the mug down.

“Please don’t avoid me.” He begged more softly, his hand hesitated to reach out to me. Once they clasped around mine, it was almost relieving. Having something familiar to ground me while I was only working myself up. “I miss you, I miss us. We were best friends and we haven’t even spoken in…I don’t even know how long. This, this is stupid. To be running in circles like this?”

“That’s easy for you to say.” This time, my words weren’t angry. They broke apart when I spoke. The sentence was raw, the lump in my throat broke through my clenched teeth and my nose heated up in an intense burn. My eyes were heavy, working hard to keep any tears at bay. Again, here I find myself in a different spot, practicing the same habits. I stand in front of Conrad angry, ready to hurt his ego and pierce a hole through his heart just to ease my own mind.

I wanted exactly what he did, to be as close. I missed him more than anything in my life ever, but it wasn’t so simple. He pleaded my name again, I pulled my hands out of his. His fingers were like a barbed wire. It suddenly stung to have him touching me.

“I just wish you would’ve acknowledged it, you know? I mean look at me, look at us. You’re fine, you’re happy. I can’t even look at you without wanting to cry.” When our hearts broke, they broke uneven. Conrad was left with a bruise why I was facing the pain of a bleeding scar across my own. He had been the one to cause the rift, he had been the one to bring up everyone’s insecurities, use them against our relationship.

“Y/n.” He whispered, reaching out to me again. I stood from the stool, keeping my distance. My tears were hot, they burned into my skin.

“You couldn’t even stand me, Conrad! And I couldn’t see it before, but I can now. You couldn’t even text me, no. No, but that’s not the worst part. Maybe it’s the fact that you couldn’t even show up to Stevens graduation because I was there.” He sighed, ready to defend himself. I look back on all the disappointed faces, I remember the way Steven frowned at that empty seat beside me and I feel angry.

“Do you know how hard it is to tell your baby brother that his hero couldn’t make it to his graduation because he can’t even stand to be around me? Do you know how sad he was when he started to walk up to the podium and saw your seat was empty? I recorded it and sent it to you, did you know that? I wasn’t going to, I didn’t think you deserved to have a part in one of the most important parts in Stevens life, but he begged me to. Tried to make me send it twice so you’d get it.” I took a deep breath, wiping away the tears by my eyes, more spilled. My face was wet with salt water and red with anger.

“So why don’t we go back to how things were before after you’ve fucked it all up!”

“It’s really fucking unfair of you to act like this hasn’t affected me at all either!” He finally shot back. He was never one to yell. Conrad always had some sort of control over his composure. He never yelled, he hated yelling.

“How, how can you say that after you’ve done nothing to fix anything!” Walking closer to him, I saw how he turned away to grip the counter between his fingers.

“People deal with shit differently, Y/n. Grow up!” He yelled. His eyes were wild, it should’ve scared me. But god, him telling me to grow up after all he put me through only made me angrier. I was fragile already. But not as a flower, but a bomb.

“Fuck you, Conrad.” My voice was shaky, but firm. I didn’t yell, my lack of volume was almost scarier than my inevitable rage. He looked up at me, it was like watching him realize how his words had betrayed him. He hadn’t meant for us to fight, to talk like this. He wanted to fix things. He wanted me back.

“Y/n.” He shook his head, walking closer to me, he bent away from the edges of the island to reach me quicker. His voice was laced with pity

“Stop saying my name!” I backed away, feet catching on the threshold, I slowed myself down. Each time he said it, it pulled on my heartstrings. How could he be so selfish to not even be able to see all the pain I’ve been put through!

“I’ve missed you ever since I left you! You think I don’t regret the way I treated you? I’m not naïve to my own stupidity, I know my mistakes, I’ve owned them. You were my everything, god you might as well have hung the stars!” He waved his hands around to animate what he was saying. It only stresses me out more.

“Then why? Why did you throw it all away!” My body began to crumble beneath me, my knees wobbled.

“Because I was scared! I was scared of losing you. I thought if I let myself become too obsessed, that if you decided to leave me I would never be able to get back up. I had to do it!” He confessed. It all made sense then. All my unanswered questions, all my insecurities of not being enough. Conrad hadn’t left because I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He left because he was scared of what would happen when I was gone. That he wasn’t enough.

“I wouldn’t have left you, Conrad. I wouldn’t have.” My palms hit my eyes, my knees started to give. A sob ripped through my throat. It hurt to breathe.

His arms were like a blanket. His hands still fit perfectly around my back. When he held me, it was tight. I knew it then that he wouldn’t be letting me go, not now. His shirt was wet with my tears, mine was wet with my hair. I felt stupid, naïve to think of Conrad in such bad ways when he had only been doing what he thought was best to protect his heart after loss after loss.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I repeated it like a prayer, I didn’t mean to be so mean. I didn’t want to be rude to him, I wanted him to be close to me always. His heart was beating out of his chest when he nodded. He knew I never meant to fight him. We were both entitled to our feelings, there was no reason in trying to apologize for how we reacted.

His hand lifted to my head, brushing through my hair. He gathered a chunk in his palm, his knuckles gripping at it. It didn’t hurt, he didn’t intend for it to. He was breathing me in, holding onto me in every which way possible.

“It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.” My sobs were muffling themselves, quieting down into soft whimpers. It took a lot to even nod my head against his shirt. It smelled like him, and it was homely. I felt safer now than in our argument. Our words held no value anymore, I just hoped that what he said was true.

Holding her like that almost made things feel normal again. Having her hair in between my fingers and her waist pressed against mine. I wanted to revel in it, selfishly. But her sniffles and uneven breath only made me remember why I even got the privilege to hold her again.

Again and again, I watched her breakdown over a mistake I made. To protect myself. I swore it to her last winter, promised her that it would always be my favorite season because she was my favorite thing. I built up this trust and a love between us. It was when she left that I freaked out over what my mom said.

“I’ve never seen you so happy.” She had said, poncho bc my cheek between her fingers. Playfully, I pulled my face away.

“Yea?” I mused, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and watched the steady snowfall on the final night of winter through the window.

“The love bug’s got you.” She was right. I was so undeniably in love with Y/n. I would change everything in my life just to be with her always.

“What?” My eyes squinted from the way my eyebrows furrowed. She was still looking out into the snow.

“It’s okay to be in love, Connie.” She quickly turned to me and smoothed out my shirt. She sensed my confusion and stress. I knew I was in love with her, but the fact that it was that obvious, that clear made me worry.

“Everyone has their first love at some point.” With that she left. At some point. The words rung through my head. I knew that the first love was always the strongest, but this was not my first love. I had fallen for an ex-girlfriend in freshman year. She broke my heart. Why was the thought of Y/n leaving shattering mine completely?

The more I thought of us together then, the more I worried about her leaving. She was perfect for me, maybe. But could I even measure up to her perfection? Could I give her everything?

I was able to push that feeling away for a few weeks. But as winter turned to spring and the leave began to regrow, I couldn’t shake it. Distance was a thing I was only growing between us. Space, something I created so there was no way we could get hurt. I thought it was the right thing, then. I thought it was the right move for me to let her leave so easily. To watch her fight for me one last time and not react. I was giving her the chance for someone more, someone better. I didn’t know I was only breaking her heart in ways I worried I would break my own.

It was a guilt I lived with all these months. When she didn’t come up to cousins because she wasn’t feeling good, I knew why. I had avoided her like the plague after our last conversation, our first real fight. I couldn’t even show up for her family in one of their most important milestones. Now it seemed like we only fight now, or at least in these past couple hours.

My neck was stiff from how it leaned against the back of the couch. I hadn’t watched past the hour mark of the black and white movie Conrad had put on. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I no longer liked it.

The movie was all I watched when I was at my absolute worst. Not to say I wasn’t still there, I felt rock bottom beneath my feet, but I felt myself getting better slowly. I no longer spent each day rewatching the same film over and over to ease the pain and remind myself of a happier time. I hated the way they talked. I once found it romantic, but the old cracking in the sound and the fancy accents made me angry. None of it was real.

To Conrad, he only did what he thought I would like. He had no way of knowing of my new distaste to the movie. One I used to rave about for hours. Then again, he never asked.

Yawning, I felt a set of eyes on mine.

“Tired?” He asked, a small smile on his face. I waved him off.

“Nope.” I popped the ‘p.’ It was an easy lie, my dark circles and slouchy posture gave it away. There was no way to sell it. I was surprised when he didn’t push me on it. My eyes drooped, my cheek pressed to my lonely shoulder. I had no one to lean on. I curled into myself a little, all while silently telling myself I was awake.

A pillow hit my lip, I bit down a little but it didn’t hurt me. My eyes were wide open now, hair messed up around the top. My fly aways were all over the place, my eyes squinting.

“Hey!” Grabbing the corners of the pillow, I swung as hard as I could towards Conrad, the culprit. It his his chest, he groaned out in a heavy breath. The pillow was soft, I was sure it didn’t hurt. But he entertained the idea that it did by rubbing circles in his chest, wincing and hissing through his teeth. I rolled my eyes.

“Seriously?” I leaned back against the cushions again, placing the pillow comfortably over my lap. I heard him laugh. A real, genuine laugh. It felt like weight was lifted off of my back.

“What! That was one of my best performances.” He punched my shoulder. I shot him playful glares. He pushed at me again, begging for a reaction. I folded already, giving into his games and retaliating against his childish attacks. But I would not crumble so easily. I would not let him tease me and play me until I opened up again just hours after yet another fight. I worried that another would ensue.

Sitting up, I tossed the pillow back at him. The sound he made confirmed it had hit him in the face.

“Come on, where are you going?” I could hear the smile in his voice. It made me smile too, knowing he was happy.

“To bed, I am tired.” I didn’t look back, but I felt him watching.

I swore I heard words die on his tongue. A soft stutter to a dead silence. Like he wanted to protest but stopped himself somehow. He never saw me look back, but when I was turning to the stairs, I allowed myself a glimpse.

His eyes were spacey, lip pulled between his front teeth. His eyebrows furrowed. He was deep in thought, but I could see the disappointment in his face. He didn’t seem as full of life, as cheerful. We were rebuilding a childhood, best friend bond that was lost with in cracking of our foundations in the spring.

“Goodnight, Conrad.” I still hadn’t had the ability to carry a joke with him. To keep a conversation flowing without my emotions dying inside of me before I could get them out. I whispered my goodnight. I wanted him to know I still held a place in my heart for him, but part of me wanted to reserve that knowledge to only myself.

I was scared to be more than what was being proposed. The door was open, we were almost friends. It was an odd spot. We’d act like friends, joke like them, but we both knew what we had done, what had just happened. I would walk through the entrance if Conrad would allow it. If we could at least be close, even if his lips weren’t mine, even if his body wasn’t there for me to lean on anymore. I would live happily, I’d be able to put on a brave face and call myself his friend. I would stand by the alter, watching him find another love, burying the hatchet of our love for good and I would be okay, I decided. As long as I still had him. As long as I never had to feel as alone as I did this morning.

“They’re saying borderline blizzard conditions, Con. You don’t think we’ll need to go on a supply run, do you?” His back was turned to me, hands working over the pot of coffee skillfully. His thumb brushed against the glass, he hissed quietly and shook his hand off.

“I think you’re just overthinking it.” He payed my worry not attention. He knew this house better than I did. It would hold, that wasn’t the worry. We had no shovels, nothing to dig us out of snow were to block us in. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I made my way around the island, pushing myself off of the counter and into one of the stools perched under it.

“Coffee?” Conrad asked, ignoring my questions again. I gave into him, playing his game and being stubborn.

“What kind?” My fingers drew circles on the cold marble.

“Black.” He set the cup down in front of me, letting it come to a halt right in front of me. My eyes flickered to the coffee, a smirk fighting it’s way onto my cheeks.

“Like your soul?” Like your heart, is what I wanted to say. Something that used to come so easy, meaningless insults directed at him not to make him sad, but to make him smile. I still hadn’t answered by question, though. If I were to direct a remark at his heart, would it weigh too much under the cracking foundation of our recovering friendship? I still wondered if he would laugh at that and go along with it.

Conrad laughed, looking out the window and admiring the sky. He didn’t respond, but he never really had when I’d make those jokes. Usually he would laugh or tell me it was a good one. He sighed lightly.

“I walked right into that one.” He smiled down at his coffee now, holding the mug loose with the handle dangling between his fingers.

When silence took over the room, it wasn’t uncomfortable. We welcomed it. We were alone with our thoughts and for once, they weren’t twisted and heavy. Only happy memories and thoughts of old habits.

In my mind, I dreamed of times where I knew what to say after making a joke. What I could do to counter a snarky remark and his laughter. I always knew what to say to him, when and why. I knew what made him tick. I still knew how to set him off, I believe that once you have the ability to get under someone’s skin, you never truly lose it. Either you continue to poke at the wounds that hurt them so, or your presence is able to remind them of it. Yet, with all the loss in my every heartbeat, somewhere along the way I forgot how to keep him happy.

Conrad’s footsteps snapped me out of my clouded haze. My eyes snapped up from the counter to his face. He didn’t look at me, but stayed focused on his coffee.

“Glad to know you still got it.” His eyes flicked to me, I swear I saw him wink. It was so quick, my words died in a pathetic stutter. I smiled stupidly at him, I couldn’t even pretend to be snarky. It caught me off guard, somehow. My walls were torn down now, the barrier of anger and sadness I kept up around him to keep us apart gone with our last fight and heart to hearts. The devils in the details, but somehow it didn’t feel as deep, as life changing anymore.

It was like he knew I couldn’t think of something to promise to him. To keep us going. He surely hadn’t lost it.

I tried to rationalize everything recently. But it felt like it took over my life. I’d almost forgotten about Belly and Steven. How they’d been so quick to shut me out simply because someone had offered me a place to be wanted for a moment. Conrad always knew when to swoop in to save me. I could help but talk myself down every so often and convince myself that Conrad is not made of Angel dust. He simply is a man, and a smart one at that. All of this could be just to butter me up, I know it’s always an outcome. A way to win me back, but never want me the same. It poisons me to think about him that way, I know him. He would never play me to become the good guy.

My mind has no middle line. Constantly wavering between my lover, the man I see as the sky and the seas. I see him as a perfect lipstick stain to a white collar, uggs in the fall, hot chocolate in the winter. He is all things I love and yet I still fight. The other part of me fights my heart to keep my distance. How just hours ago I told myself the hate I had for Conrad was always going to be just that, irreversible hurt that he caused. It’s the sweetest torture I could bare in the fact that really, by the end of it my mind is set on just getting to be with him again. No matter what his games are.

It’s pathetic, but my heart strings pull a little whenever I hear his footsteps upstairs. When I can tell if he’s coming to see me or not. I like knowing he likes to be around me once more. It almost covers up the fact that he hurt me so bad. I’m not idiot, however. I wish I were in some cases, but I’m not blinded completely by my love. With every advance, I find a way to make it platonic. He’s my friend.

He said he missed me, our friendship bond. I know that he is a man of his word. I should not work myself up, I shouldn’t expect so much. I shouldn’t jump into his arms because he says go. I think rationally, I use my head. I let my heart race and my cheeks flush but ultimately my brain will stop me from messing about again. So part of me finds it sad when the power goes out later that day. For both the house and myself. It’s childish how quickly I jump in search of Conrad. I have to remind myself not to hold onto him, not to yell I told you so.

I call for his name quietly through the halls, feeling the chipping paint under my finger tips. It’s still fresh, but bumpy. A previous project of Susannah’s from when her paint brushes never seemed to dry out. It’s hard to tell if she never finished her projects that summer. Or even if she never finished any.

In the dark, it’s almost more clear to see where her brush strokes end. Where the moonlight illuminates the white and blues, you can see the divides between old and new. God, if she were any less attentive it would surely be the end of this house. It was in great condition, but some things were out of place, uncared for simply because Susannah’s mind went a mile a minute.

Smiling, I let my hands run over the wall, feet planting on the cold wood. I could feel it through my socks, with the lights out and the heat stuttering to a halt.

“Y/n/n, hey.” He sounded breathless, coming up from behind me. I hadn’t even noticed the stomping of his feet up the staircase as my fingers danced along the wall. So caught up in the past I find it that sometimes I forget that I’m living in my present. Looking around my metaphorical room in my mind, I see my chosen family. I see his brother as mine, his mother as mine. I see myself as a child again running through the sand and tracking mud through the dining room.

I know deep down I can not keep holding on, keep on keeping myself back. I can never give Conrad peace, but I can give him my sunshine, my best. He would always have a friend in me. I set my heart free then, fingers stuck to the wall, eyes flickering to my feet. I let go of my heart break and my solemn silences I throw at my loved ones for guilt. I let my walls down, I take Conrad’s hand, and I shake my head. His smile is warm, his eyes loving. He still needs me, he always has. He still loves me and my heart is racing. I finally feel like I have him back.

“You okay?” Back in reality, I’m aware that I’m not actually holding onto his hand, and Conrad isn’t really smiling at me. My heart is still in its cage and I have fallen victim to my own mind again. Conrad is not mine.

Clearing my throat, I lick at the corners of my lips. When I shake my head this time, I know it’s real because Conrad is looking at me questioningly. He is not in love with me, he is not drooling over me. The power is still out and our muddy footprints mean nothing to him anymore.

“We blew a fuse, but the generators dead. We’re just going to have to stick it out.” I nodded again, looking up at him with doe eyes. My lips were glossy with a sheen coat of spit from how much I licked them, but at them nervously. Yet, he didn’t even spare me a glance. It was almost like he was waiting on something.

“You can say it.” He finally sighed.

“Say what?” His eyes caught mine, seeing just how intently my eyes focused on his dimples and the bridge of his nose decorated with delicate freckles. I cleared my throat.

“You told me so.” He smiled, punching my shoulder playfully. He could tell my mind was drifting, he could see it, I saw the way his eyes softened. My gentle smile turned into a shit-eating grin.

A beat passed, he continued waiting on me in the dark room. I liked it in some odd ways. Enjoyed having him waiting on me for once. It wasn’t the same. How my heart waited for his apologies for so long, how I expected it because I knew one day he would come back to me to make things right in his own way. But somehow, his desire for my once overlooked jokes and brushed off comments made my cheeks warm. Like more than me in this moment, he wanted the normal us back.

“Are you going to…” He voice trailed off, my feet picked up against the cold wood floor.

“Why don’t you start the fire? I’m going to get some blankets.” I tucked the hair behind my ear, practically running to the staircase. He nodded, not that I could see it, but the silence confirmed that he had forgotten that I couldn’t truly see his nod. That along with a soft hum of approval from him.

“Oh, and Conrad.” He hummed again. His eyes glistened in the moonlight, shining brighter than any other object standing in the hallway. He waited on me patiently, slowly inching closer.

“I told you so.”

The best of blankets and pillows sprawled put along the living room floor helped to further nestle us against the foot of our white couch. The snowfall and the storm felt less like an inconvenience but a gift.

I was reminded of my childhood. Of first snowfalls and broken ice skates. Red noses and icy hair. I remember how even after the facade of perfect holidays and new years kisses faded into nothing more than a dream, how my heart still soared with excitement each coming fall. How I couldn’t wait to see the snowy powder decorating my front lawn. I get reminded of why I drove so long to see Conrad. Of his warm hugs and his soft mittens. Wearing his hats and stumbling around in the backyard. I feel less hurt by the company than I once did a few days ago. I feel blessed that by some miracle, fate had string Conrad and I back together. That his hands would forever paint my hands in a gentle love we only held, and his whispers of senseless jokes he mumbled tiredly were only mine to laugh at.

The fire crackled, roaring feverishly through the night. The snow and wind pounded against the sides of the house, and despite the chills running through my toes and my fingers, I felt warmer inside than before, rekindling our inside jokes and fueling ourselves for even more.

Soon, our soft laughter and ongoing conversations died out. Our eyes glued to the flames, I tried to catch a glimpse into Conrad’s eyes. I wanted to know what the fire would look like reflected into his blue eyes. Instead, I caught his gaze locked onto my face.

I felt embarrassed, in a way. Vulnerable under his gaze. I felt my cheeks heat up and my body tingle. I felt like a school girl again.

“Y/n/n.” He called for me softly. The only way I was sure that he’d even said it was the fact that my eyes were so trained in his pink lips. I nodded slowly.

“Why did you come down here? Why now?” Even though the question was serious, I couldn’t help but to smile at his curiosity in my life.

Taking a deep breath, I watched his flat face turn into a welcoming grin.

“Lately, I’ve just been caught up in the past, I guess. I’m just so used to coming home every winter to Steven and Belly in the living room already fighting. And my dad and mom arguing about what decorations playfully.” Conrad laughed like he could picture it. He’d never really been in my house during the holidays. Sure, the Fisher family would stop by every few months when the distance became too much, but holiday’s were usually spent apart.

“I guess when I came home this year and that wasn’t there, I kind of freaked a little. I mean, Steven just left, Belly was too caught up in her own life to care about what I wanted to do, how much time we had left. My dad was too busy to stop by and…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I almost allowed the words to slip, how the final straw was that even with the mess of my family, at least at one point I had Conrad. I had his gentle hands and his quiet promises to hold onto. When everything went to hell, it was like losing the last bit of peace. “I wanted to be somewhere I wouldn’t feel alone, I guess.” I replaced my words with this. Hoping he’d understand how much he meant to me, how much all of it meant to me.

The single puff of air coming harshly through his mouth in a sigh reminded me just how close we were. How I could feel each word falling from his lips fanning over my shoulder. We were sharing a blanket, so close yet our bodies so far.

“Y/n.” He sounded more serious. During my confession, I found a home in the floorboards. Feeling safer confessing to the air than to a man who destroyed me not so long ago. My eyes hesitated to meet his, but I could see just how serious he was.

“I regret what happened between us more than anything I’ve ever done in my life. I know I can’t reverse that, but please never say you are alone. I swear to you, no matter what, I’m there.” It was rare to hear such thing from Conrad. Maybe a grunt of a hug to assure my feelings were always appreciated. But I could see the sincerity in his face, his voice was dripping with guilt. He meant it, every word.

Nodding my head, I silently thanked him. I watched his eyes search my face. How his lips parted but shut quickly. He decided against continuing, but it was like an unspoken apology was being said between us in that moment.

With gravity pulling us together, it was only in my nature to protect my heart. I had to rip us apart before I gave in without knowing if we’d ever be the same. If I kissed him and it was just a winter fling, I couldn’t take another heartbreak.

So, in our silence, I moved my hand between us. The pad of my thumb brushing away the charcoal from the fire dusting just under his cheek. I watched how he shivered and backed away, eyes fluttering shut. All while I bit at my lip, delicate in the way I rubbed away the dust.

“Are my hands cold?” I remained focused in on him, my lips curled into a smile seeing his reaction to my touch, how he shivered but didn’t complain. He nodded his head slowly, but his eyes were still closed.

I saw how his eyebrows furrowed, it wasn’t from discomfort, but in the low light it was hard to tell. My hand curled away, ready to ease the coldness off of his skin. I didn’t expect his own hand to cover mine, holding it against his now rosy cheeks.

“Feels nice.” He mumbled almost drowsily. His eyes still hidden behind his eyelids, his other hand found mine aimlessly, gently pressing it to his other cheek. I felt his weight sink into my palms, reveling in my touch.

The band suddenly snapped. All the tension, all the build up. He was right there, so eager, so gentle. I had to know if he was still the same boy I loved not too long ago. He had set me up for an old joke.I always wondered if I could still joke with him like this. It still gnawed at me some nights.

“It’s because you’re cold hearted.” I expected him to laugh, I hoped he would. But instead, he smiled just as genuine as his old laughter, melting into my touch more than I thought he could ever. I hadn’t been able to predict what he would tell me. Couldn’t have read his lips even if I could see into the future.

“For everyone else, maybe. But not for you.” He was as honest as a man could be. With his eyelashes fluttering open, I could see it in his eyes now. How they looked back at me wide and awake. I felt my stomach flip. There was something there I had previously missed. Dancing along with the glowing of the fire in his irises, was the same spark he once carried when I was his and he was mine.

I didn’t even get to challenge it, teasing him and making him repeat his confessions. My lips stuttered on the first syllable, just before his hands smushed my cheeks with the force of how he grabbed me. He was firm, but not aggressive. He could never hurt me.

His lips molded against mine perfectly in my mind. He tasted like mint and hot chocolate. My hands tangled in his hair, his palms flat against my waist. With so little space between us, so much fever and pent up frustration, air became harder and harder to get. With each touch of his fingers, it was like tiny fires being sparked across my body.

He hadn’t even had to tell me what he felt then. Neither did I. In that moment my walls crumbled beneath my feet. All resistance was gone. In Conrad’s grasp, I felt less alone.

I knew it then. To Conrad, my mind games I played on myself, my temper and the storms that would inevitably cloud up my sunniest days, the fact that I could never give him peace did not matter. We would always be enough.

[bugcatcherkit]

more plural mob talk when you get the time please!

I need to hear about shigeo and mob/other characters it's my favorite interpretation of them!

OKAY I will try my best!!!!! But its a little difficult because the way I think about them changes a lot. There's, like, some set characteristics and all, but I don't tend to think in "definitives" with them. The difference between this and canon is there's More Dissociation and a further degree of separation (though, again, Baseline Identity; they can't exist in isolation).

OKAY OKAY. ANYWAY. I think a lot about the resentment they developed for each other. Mob resented Shigeo ("his power") for how they lost security in their relationships and were isolated from others, as well as his general destructiveness that Mob had to deal with the aftermath of. I also think that Mob sometimes gets hung up on how to live his life to the fullest when he has to share it with a part of their brain that doesn't always agree with what he wants to do.

Shigeo started resenting Mob for taking over their entire life, and also all the demonization, dehumanization, being rendered as scapegoat, and being cut off from all their relationships. Confession Arc was him trying to separate himself from Mob so he wouldn't have to deal with that anymore. And despite learning to accept and be more open with each other, I think they still struggle with this stuff sometimes in post-canon !! When they have problems with each other, most of it comes back around to this. But they're better at working through it and communicating and all that.

In line with their new communication efforts. I think it's interesting that Shigeo seems to know more about Mob than Mob does sometimes. Mob is so good at intellectualizing his emotions and fears and experiences, but Shigeo is more aware of the underlying emotional reasons that Mob struggles to grasp. Mob does not know this much about Shigeo, because Shigeo is mostly Raw Emotion, and he mostly relies on what he's been told about him up until post-canon. I'd imagine finding a balance becomes difficult sometimes even though that's what they're working on. Also, I tie this stuff to their memories. Like, Mob doesn't want to be left in the dark about things he doesn't remember but Shigeo does, especially surrounding stressful experiences. But Shigeo is like "bro you just want to Know you don't want to actually Accept or Feel anything about it yet".

I know I have other stuff about how i view their dynamic but I can't think of it right now so I hope this suffices. Most of the time they're just going through life. Mostly co-con or blended. So.

OH AND OTHERS. One I really think about a lot is Mob/Shigeo and Dimple. IT'S SO GOOD. They severely understand each other. Also, whether he knew it or not, Dimple was one of the only guys in Shigeo's corner for a while because he was always encouraging them to stop holding themselves back and consider their emotions. And Dimple was there to help them out a LOT when others couldn't, which was a big hang-up for Shigeo during Confession Arc. They all understand what it's like to be seen as scary or insignificant or inhuman in some way or another, so they don't do that for each other. And its great for Shigeo to know that once Dimple realized he couldn't use their power (which he never actually succeeded in doing), he stuck around anyway when he Rematerialized. Overall, Dimple would Get It and not pass a lot of judgment I think. Dimple dynamics are so underrated guys…..

Another fun dynamic is them and Ritsu, who I think was the First to know by the way. Sometimes he helps figure things out between them when they're having an especially difficult time communicating. Also Shigeo's general strong attachment to nostalgia means he kinda struggles to see Ritsu as more grown up, and he babies that kid in a way that Mob does not. He also likes to give Ritsu so many cool rocks off the ground and he'll feel mildly offended if Ritsu doesn't keep them.

And also Shigeo and Tome would get along great. Their shenanigans would be worrying.

Sorry I didn’t explain many other dynamics I got sidetracked and also I didn’t want this to be too long. This took a while because I’ve been in my “school is starting soon” slump where I am so so so tired all the time and struggle to focus on anythingg 🙏

them..

[jellolegos]

From Alicent and Rhaenyra's kids which one do you think would be the perfect Rhaenicent baby? I'm leaning towards Jace simply because he looks like Alicent but is a lot like Rhaenyra.

mmm yes I see the family resemblence

and i've seen quite a bit of helaena too (and find it kinda funny that alicent canonically kinda tried to baby-trap rhaenyra with her) which i like :]

Memes aside I know this isn't probably the answer you were looking for but I think both helaena and jace have some interesting non-maternal parent stuff that I would really be loathe to get rid of, so I think neither! They would have to name their joint kid aegon though seeing as they both have an aegon...

For helaena (IN THE SHOW), I've seen, rightly so, a lot of analysis on her relationship with her mother. However, I haven't seen as much reflection on her relationship (or really lack thereof) with Viserys, which I find really equally compelling. I have always interpreted Viserys' relationship with his two daughters parallel insights into how Viserys' passivity ultimately results in the dance (which kinda boils down to how a 'good' king can often be a weak one). Whilst his favouring of Rhaenyra, which is blinding to the extent that he endangers her as a queen, shows his weakness as a regent, his comparative neglect of helaena shows his weakness as a Targaryen.

One of first scenes we get of Viserys is the one where he proclaims the absolute weight of prophecy and his vision of his son on the Iron Throne.

'This child is a boy, Aemma. I’m certain of it. I’ve never been certain of anything. The dream was clearer than a memory. Our son was born, wearing Aegon’s iron crown. And I heard the sound of thundering hooves, splintering shields and ringing swords. And I placed our son up on the Iron Throne, as the bells of the grand sept rung, and all the dragons roared as one.'

This leads to him killing Aemma for Baelon (who he believes is said son). In ep 2 or 3 while Alicent is pregnant with Helaena we get this line/scene as well,

'Many in my line being dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of a dragon next to the power of prophecy. When Rhaenyra was a child I saw it in a dream. As vivid as this flames. A male babe born to me, wearing the Conqueror’s crown.'

So, Viserys is clearly motivated by prophecy and the power of both his own visions and those of Aegon (the Conqueror's) and it is a key driver for his actions in s1. But it is also a targaryen trait, and therefore he is very much attached to that specific dimension of Targaryen exceptionalism.

However he cannot, for whatever reason, see Helaena as a dragon dreamer or value Helaena's visions with equal weight. I don't think Viserys listening to Helaena's warnings would've prevented the war but they very well could have. I mean she essentially reiterates his dream here, modifying it from 'all of the dragons roared as one' to 'dragons of flesh, weaving dragons of thread'. Where Viserys interpreted a common dragon roar as a unification of the dragons, Helaena correctly sees this as a division of the dragons, both literal and in name (Targaryens).

I see him as a character who is attached to the ideal of both a Targaryen and a king, but unable to adequately fulfill either role; nostalgia and idealism allow him to sleepwalk into a civil war. He wants a political successor, who he believes he does not have when really she's right under his nose, and a Targaryen successor for his dragon dreams, who similarly goes unrecognised.

I don't really have an intelligent way of articulating this, other than vibes, but his one and only ride of Balerion the Black Dread seems an extension of this 'nostalgia as a fatal flaw' theme for him.

So I really Helaena as being viserys' daughter as much as alicent's.

For Jacaerys, it's a little harder for me just because I'm a little less engaged with the men of the show as whole (doing the opposite of the normal fandom thing that happens, giving the women rich inner lives while I ignore the men lol). But I think there's a similar wrinkle and depth added with Harwin Strong as his dad (chivalric, brave and strong, but just not a Targaryen), and I don't think Alicent would fill a similar role. He is sort of characterised by an internal tension regarding his status as a bastard which I think was developed really well in s2, and the tension is one that will continue to really drive him until his sacrifice and death in s3. It was one of my favourite parts of the last season and made me like Jace as a character a lot more, tbh. I was sort of neutral on him previously. I think having a woman as his dad would certainly give him all sorts of other complicated feelings (!), but maybe not in the same way.

Since I think both of those parts are really important for the story overall, I'd rather not get rid of either! I guess my Rhaenicent kid would be an Aegon with auburn hair and violet eyes, lol

[ninapi]

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Upper moon two ╝

Premise: A journey trough Douma's life as a human, was he always as bad? The reminiscence of his real past lingers as he dies, not the things he always remembered but the reason itself that made him choose the demonic path.

Word Count: 2395

Warning: Main character death, spoilers.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Death wasn't as bad as some would think. The darkness painting the unknown was as beautiful as the milky way, alluring but cold. Shinobu was willing to go with him to the depths of hell and that was comforting to him. What he didn’t know was that her only motives were to guarantee he would remain trapped there for the rest of eternity, not any sort of fondness or attachment towards him.

He felt content, regardless.

Odd things happen as you reach your final milestone, memories that had been always present and some others that not so much reach our perishing moments, and as his head floated aimlessly in an unknown direction, flashbacks of a life he didn’t remember began tormenting his very soul.

It all started with a whisper, a soft gentle voice calling out for him, even if he couldn’t recognize said voice right away, he could feel an immense amount of nostalgia almost immediately flooding his rather desolated and cold heart, something he wasn’t aware he could even feel.

As hard as he tried to remember who the owner of this voice was, there was just no recollection of it in his memories. His thoughts kept derailing his way and he fell farther behind the pillar. What was that feeling just now? His eyes began to water on their own, not like when he forces tears out to appear sad, but a gut-wrenching amount of sadness could be felt within him. He wanted to hear it again, even if it was just one more time, once more before he turned to dust for real.

Another flashback strikes him, a pretty lake on a sunny day, he could feel the warm rays on his exposed skin alerting this had to be a memory from before he turned in what he is now, beautiful wild flowers at his feet, a girl happily twirling in them, but he couldn’t see her face, it was almost completely blurred like if the memory itself had been purposely disposed, “You know I love you more Douma-sama, don’t be silly!” The sound of cute giggles followed the faint staticky voice, making him smile. “When was this even?” He tells girls many things, but never that he loves them, because, well, simply because he doesn’t, never had. But these memories were real, and he could feel it deep within his soulless essence.

At this point, Shinobu was so far away he couldn’t even see her now, but that was fine, she didn’t matter anymore. He understood just like that in that very moment, that what he felt minutes ago towards her was not love, he just didn’t want to die alone, it was a thought that was somewhat terrifying for him.

His memories took him way back to the time his parents died, he was more relieved than anything that day, thought he wouldn’t have to keep up with the cult charades anymore. Of course, he was wrong, but the memory usually ended there, a door opened in a continuation of said day, he could see one of the girls that had been rescued by the cult reach over to him thinking he was sad from loosing his parents. She was also orphaned at a young age and knew how devastating that could be. So in a selfless act, she wrapped her tiny arms around him, told him to cry it all out, that she would be there for him, that he would never be alone, reminded him that he was loved by many. He didn’t know he needed to hear all that, but it made him feel appreciation towards someone for the first time in his life.

It was a fleeting memory. He remembered not feeling sad, only upset by the mess and stench of death. But now something had been unlocked within his brain and he could also remember what happened after that day. How the girl really never left his side, how the girl became a beautiful woman over the years and showed him what love actually meant.

His parents used him almost like a prop.

He didn’t know what being truly cared for felt, so it was utterly refreshing having someone completely devoted to him who could see through all the lies and deeply care for the real person behind the godly performance he was forced to continue with.

In all truth, remaining as the cult leader was his choice, she had said that thanks to it she was able to find a purpose, find happiness, that it might bring the same to other people. So, he continued with his duties, as a symbol that represented nothing he believed in. Though, it wasn’t as bad. People would always bring him gifts, always tended to all his needs and most importantly, now that his parents were out of the picture, she quickly became the one in charge as both grew up, making sure things were as right as they could be in a fake cult, at least he would now get a share in all of it and the cult was now doing actual charitable work.

He'd never been good with feelings. Always had to pay a close look to others to determine what was the best course of action as far as reactions go. But whenever he was with her it was like a whirlwind lived within his lungs. He would feel sad whenever she wasn’t around, throw tantrums whenever she’d be back at his side, cling to her for dear life afterwards. He would feel jealous each time another man talked to her, even if they were also his followers and knew who she was. Always felt so proud when people would comment about how the cult had become a better place all thanks to her help, whenever people would say how beautiful she was. Always felt so happy waking up by her side every morning, the sun shining on her delicate face. Always felt so loved whenever he was in her arms.

“What was her name? I thought I remembered my past….what’s with all these memories….”

Another flashback hits him hard. Something he didn’t really remember either, but this time he was actually aware he didn’t remember this and always bothered him.

Why did he become a demon?

True, he never really cared much about anything. Life didn’t change much after becoming one, even his cult still remains. So why did he decide this was the only way to go?

He always knew there was nothing beyond death, never believed in hell or heaven. But it also never bothered him, decomposing and becoming one with the soil didn’t sound as bad when your life is as empty as it could be.

His head was killing him, even if that sounded like a joke. He was already dead, having a headache sounded ridiculous. But the memory of Muzan walking towards his very much devastated self caught him off guard.

He is sure he was looking at himself, almost in a different perspective, didn’t quite feel like a memory of his, it felt more like Muzan’s memory.

There were tears covering his own face, blood everywhere. He was pulling at his own hair, sobbing uncontrollably. Even if these were someone else’s memories he could feel his own pain emanating from his body from where he was looking at the scene unfold.

The beautiful woman of his memories was lying on the ground, her head on his lap. She wasn’t moving at all, one of her hands was clutching at her enlarged belly in agony.

“I came here because I heard a rumor of a very popular cult leader that gathered the masses over some useless belief system. Thought you could be of some use for my cause. Seeing you probably don’t have much left, wouldn’t you become a demon and be part of something grater? Become stronger?”

The perspective switched in his head like switching gears, he was now looking into Muzan’s eyes through a wall of tears. He could feel the stickiness of the blood glued to his hands, it was warm, heavy, the smell of it embedded in his brain for good, his body was shacking brutally and he couldn’t feel any sign of life coming out of her body.

“Did you know, demons eat people? If you manage to take in all the blood I give you, you could absorb that woman and the child in her womb. They could be a part of you for eternity.”

The man was right, he had nothing left.

The memory gets cut off, another one violently coming and it was of only a few minutes before Muzan’s arrival. His only love, the mother of his unborn child crumbled nearly dead in his arms after a raid of religious radicals invaded their home grounds. He was the one that was supposed to die, not her, not his baby.

“NOOOOO, (Y/N)!! No, please don’t leave me. Please, my love….don’t leave me….” One of her hands held onto her oversized belly, she could no longer feel the child move within her anymore, the life she held so dear was slipping out of her hands. Her other hand went to caress Douma’s face lovingly. “I’m sorry, love. I’ll be leaving first, we’ll wait for you…let’s meet again.” Her last words were a mix of strangled words and small gasps, ripping his heart out of his chest along the way.

He's never felt so heartbroken before even if it was just a memory.

“(Y/N)…that’s right, that was her name.”

Reminiscing over his own death, he continued floating into nothingness. A dark abyss swallowing him completely and taking him to happier times.

Another memory, of just a few days before the tragedy comes around, “Douma-sama, can we plant some lotus plants in the pond? They’re so pretty, I always envied families that had aquatic gardens.” he once again could feel through his own memories, the weight of her head against his chest, her warmth seeping through his garments. He was gazing at the currently empty looking pond in their property, his hand caressing the large baby bump. “Anything for you, my love. But would they grow here? We have so much snow in the winter, isn’t it too cold for them?”

Funny things happen when your existence is about to disappear completely from this world, suddenly everything made sense.

He’s been living over a hundred years thinking he had no feelings, that he’s never felt anything at all in his entire life, just to realize everything he did was tied to the only woman he ever loved, even his own demonic techniques.

This realization brought tears to his eyes once more. He’s never really been alone all this time.

He would always say that to all his victims, mirror Muzan’s words. They would always be a part of him if he absorbed them, there was no need to be afraid of turning to dust and leave no memory, but in reality, he didn’t really believe that at all, it was just embedded in his mind, like a sales pitch. But she was clearly still a part of him, even when he couldn’t remember for the longest time. She wasn’t lying all those years ago, she never really left his side, always protected him.

It was in this very moment of the dying process that many others would feel remorse and even self-hatred for all the damage they caused to others, he should feel it towards the victims of his selfish lifestyle.

But he didn’t in the slightest, instead he felt grateful to his lordship, as usual he was absolutely right. Absorbing her and his child allowed them to live with him longer that they could ever had. True, he would of preferred to live a long happy life, die of old age holding her hand, see his child grow and become an adult. But he didn’t have the luxury some others have of dreaming that big, their lives were taken in the most gruesome way possible, it was the only way to keep them or what was left of them, safe.

He didn’t regret becoming a demon, he would do it all over again.

It is now in death that he finally understands himself fully. Something as simple as his obsession with eating girls was now explained. He always thought Akaza was weird, he didn’t eat women even if they were the most nutritious beings. His thought process made sense, his first meal was a pregnant woman, his woman, his love. He couldn’t remember any of this, but his body remembered how good and strong it made him feel. He thought it was the nutritional value as he forgot that what had filled his senses as much was the love shared and the promise of being together forever, not the flesh consumed.

Forgetting this lead him to gluttony, he was never as satisfied with a meal ever again, no matter how many women he’d eat.

Everything made sense to him now, he literally had to die to fully get to know his own self, ridiculous.

But now that he got his memories back, he can leave with ease.

One last memory reaches his satisfied soul, her loving smile. He loved it so much; he would do anything to see it again. He remembers the sound of her laughter, the softness of her skin, the little kicks of his unborn baby protruding from her belly. His heart was at peace, he was ready to finally turn to dust.

A whisper echoed in the wind that seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace ,“Douma-sama? Are you finally here, my love? We’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

She never really lied to him; it shouldn’t be a surprise. She stayed by his side even beyond death, of course she would honor her word and wait for him for as long as it took.

He’s never been this happy about being wrong before. Being able to hear her voice one last time filled his empty heart to the top, even if he wasn't sure if it was real.

“Sorry I’m late. Shall we turn to dust together, my love?”

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Masterlist

[itgirlgyu]

MARMALADE MEMORIES

pairing : huening kai x fem! reader.

genre : best friend to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff.

synopsis: under the melting sun of a nameless summer, you find out that the person who you call your best friend, and whom you once had fallen in love with , didn't in fact want your prized acorn paper weight, but your heart.

wc: 3.9k+

warning: huening kai is referred as a sadist and bastard multiple times, there is mention of a threat concerning a plastic fork and hyuka's nose, hyuka mentions his own balls, beomgyu, reader gets a concussion, hospital and bad example of physics.

a/n! heh my first one shot! stay tuned for the next one next year (jk) or am i

The swing still squeaked like it did every evening of those idyllic years of past; perhaps even more now, only a few years later. The shrill sound melting into the last breath of the light of the day, mixing itself with the palette of sunset, one that you both had savored together years later. Oddly wistful, if you had to put a word to that feeling. The buzzing warmth warbled at the pit of the stomach would definitely conquer the one of the diminishing bright star above. Although it's quite unclear to you whether it was the nostalgia of the ear-splitting noise of the unoiled metal clanging together that made you feel this way, or it was your best friend’s laughter that was one pitch away from over taking the invincible of swing that has been here since the buttcrack of 90’s.

“Never thought this old, rusty swing would bring so many memories,” Huening Kai exclaimed, eyes turning into the crescent’s that mirrored the one in the sky. Like a kid he had been clutching onto the metal grips of the swing, trying to get himself to sway as much as he could despite now being double the size of the swing set himself.

“Push me!” He added in with urgency, feets swinging in a childish tempo instantaneously teleporting him to the early years of his life when this very place was one of his daily commutes, despite all the jumbled brew of all sort of emotion a teenage boy can go through at the common playground of the society, only the sweeter of the bunch displayed on the apple of his rosy cheeks, and the lowkey questionable giggle that gurgled out of his mouth. All in the name of good nostalgia, you hoped. 

"Fine!" You got up, wiping your hands onto the fabric of the skirt you were wearing, "Me next, though." You quickly threw in the condition. 

The man kept his mouth shut, pretending to not hear what his best friend had said, earning a tug on his ear. 

"Sure, sure!" Huening Kai winced in pain, prying your fingers off his ear, praying to his lord that none of your fingernails would catch onto his piercings and tug a few out; It had always been his biggest fear, once he got them pierced a few weeks ago.

You narrowed your eyes, but quietly took the place behind the man, placing your hands onto the metal chain attaching the seat to the pole, just above his fists, which tightened in anticipation. 

"You know after all this time I thought you'd calm your violent outbursts a little." Huening Kai raised his feet above the ground to increase the velocity of the push, meanwhile you closed the proximity between the two of you as you brought your face next to his, trying to look at him in the eyes from standing behind him, nearing the stage of becoming cross eyed just to show the seriousness of the demand of the next turn being yours. 

Huening Kai stopped breathing for a second at the interaction, the warmth from his cheeks radiating to his ear, urging him into deluding himself with the idea of the recent tugging of his ear being the cause of its turning into an embarrassing shade of red rather than having his best friend so close to him; he could have turned to his side just a little to close that shy little gap between them, which is exactly why he started to getting a cramp on his neck from the fear of moving at any direction and causing the unthinkable. 

"I will push you too! No need to threaten me, geez!" He pulled his head in front of him, he might have looked like a duck but it was better than whatever the other options were. 

"Good boy." You patted the top of his head, and pulled him back with all your might while stumbling backwards, making Huening Kai chortle joyfully like a kid in a toy store. 

"Do you remember the time you chased me to this playground with a fork in your hand—STAND BACK! FAR!" Huening Kai yelled out, cautioning to get away in order to avoid the hit of the swing if he swung too far, hardly thinking it would, but both of you hadn't been the best at physics nor math and it would just be better for everyone if they maintained a safe distance. 

You stepped a few feet away and sighed. 

"That happened?" you lied confidently, trying to sound shocked and waver him off as you pulled back the seat, Huening Kai advised that it would give you better grip for a higher swing, and let go once again. 

It had been only a few days since the two of you had met, acquainted, and fought when the murder attempt was made, and it was merely because he had taken your homework with him  and went away for a get away with his parents which resulted in quite some trouble for you. And for that reason to this day, you do not regret threatening the man with that plastic fork which you said you would have generously shoved up one of his nostrils, and fetch it back from the other one. 

Plus it started their beautiful friendship that transcended all those years. 

"YES!" Huening Kai exclaimed, turning back to look at your face from high above the ground, "It was a plastic fork though."

"Don't really remember." You murmured, avoiding eye contact with the victim of the heinous crime. Huening Kai chuckled and shook his head, and turned back before whining to go a little bit faster. 

"Do you remember the time when I wanted your acorn paper weight?" He asked quietly, playing the entire scenario of how it took place in the hallway of their school. 

"And then we met here to trade." 

You nodded even though Huening Kai had no way of seeing your non verbal confirmation, " I was so surprised when you asked for it, like it was a paper weight." laughter bubbled at the back of your throat as you rewinded the memory of an awkwardly tall, sheepish boy eyeing the acorn paper weight with such determination. 

"It was pretty…" 

"And that sticker book!" You gasped, leaning on one of the handles Huening Kai had been holding onto, "It had all my favorite animes!" 

You giggled triumphantly, the years old exultation still making you giddy to this day, "I think I got a better end of the deal than you and your sad acorn!" 

"Loser!" You added with an exaggerated evil laugher. 

Huening Kai carelessly nodded, soaking in all of the fervorous cadence you offered, blissfully unaware of the eyes that were fixated on you; the movement long forgotten as Huening Kai opened the box of nostalgia. Handpicking each and every story that was made in this playground, and replaying it in front of them like a movie of a lifetime. 

Oblivious to himself, he had been smiling up to you; the marmalade sunset melting the brown into his eyes and trickling like honey onto his cheeks, staining them oh so sweet. 

"Do you remember the time you gave me a rose?" He pondered out loud. 

"What a way to crash the nostalgia train, shithead." 

Of course You remember, who could forget their first confession no matter how bad it went. Especially when it went inexplicably bad; the worst! But what was even more worse than worst, if that is possible (It was in this case), was the fact it had been Huening Kai, who you had confessed to. It sends you cold shivers that you still remember that day as clear as a sunny day. 

"Sure I called you a loser," You sighed, "You didn't have to repay me with that blow." 

You wondered whether her best friend had been a closeted sadist all these while. 

"I didn't murder anything nor did I blow you with anything," He reasoned, turning his bottom into the seat to face you a little bit more, the inane smile had been replaced by a dinky frown, "I just asked you whether you remember it or not." 

"Woah," You wheezed, "You're so cold hearted." 

Huening Kai rolled his eyes waiting for you to get over the drama and reply to him, which you did, "Yeah." 

"You're such a bastard, you want me to talk about it, don't you?" You put your hand on his head and yanked a fistful in rage, but let go soon enough when you saw a few of his bleached hair coming out; you didn't wanna be known as a the crazy lady who made a hole into her crush's head after he had rejected her years prior. 

Huening Kai's hands flew to his crown in a panicked rush as early hair loss flashed before his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief when he did not see a patch of his yellow hair on your hands. He relaxed his shoulders, and leaned back on the other handle. 

"Yes please," He pleaded with a smirk, "Tell me all about it." 

One demonic shriek and three earth shattering convulsions later, you were ready to indulge into the revelatory experience you had at the beginning of your teenage years, and be done with the ridiculous life experience that haunted every night of those ripe years full of opportunities.

"I confessed to you," You murmured quickly, flitting your eyes everywhere except for the pair that were gazing into hers with a minuscule citrusy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You hated that dumb face he made; You despised the actuality of the little beat that your heart skipped in that moment. 

You found him smiling up at you when the shame died down just a bit, "I didn't quite catch you, can you repeat that?" 

"The only thing you'd be catching is," You held up a clenched fist, "this." 

Huening Kai's cautiously touched the knuckled of your closed fist pushed it down as if he were testing the water, his gaze cavorting from your deadpanned eyes to your tiny fist that is now at half the height you had raised it at first without any visible scratches on him: always a good sign to go on. 

"You heard me," 

"No, I did not." 

"You-" You calmed yourself, snatching your fist away from the tip of his fingers that had been lingering on your knuckles despite the danger being out of question, you pointed your index finger at him, and then put it down. Your cheeks turning into the rouge of the rose you had shoved into his hands and left a few summers before. 

"Anyway, whatever!" You explained, your hands capering around in the air, as Huening Kai watched with an amused smile that only increased in sizes as the second keys in the clock ticked away, "So I liked you!" 

"Only a little," You clarified. 

"Pfft," Huening Kai snickered, sitting up properly, further diminishing the distance between you two. He could see himself in your eyes, "You're lying." 

"You shoved a single rose in my hand, muttered something like, I like you I guess and just booked it." He explained, reciting it exactly as it happened, word to word. Which meant only one thing, he remembered everything. Sure, he hadn't comically been hit by a car and lost his memories but You hadn't expected him to remember it as vividly as you did, that too from the perspective of the person who had not embarrassed himself in front of a person they had a crush on. 

"Don't remind me," You slipped further onto the chain, somehow mimicking an otter pop in the summer heat after being in the hands of an hyperactive toddler for more than five minutes, " You never answered me back either." 

"That's because I didn't get a single word that you told me, until I spent some time on the way your lips moved and what sounds that you made could be translated into words." Huening Kai chuckled, the memories of a younger him trying to impersonate his best friend and make those sounds to figure out what you had said was still as fresh as it had been yesterday. 

"Still not an excuse," You sulked, "We had school together." 

Huening Kai nodded in agreement, with his lips pursed and his eyebrows bunched together to come up with a feasible fib, "we did," 

"Perhaps I was shy?" 

You rolled your eyes the exact moment an abrupt gush of wind gently brushed the silken web of dark hair away from your face, the sheen of burning sun shining onto your cheeks.

“You and shy?” You cocked your head to the side and leaned in closer. Huening Kai’s oxygen intake was immediately endangered when the nearness between your heads was less than mere five inches. Huening Kai blinked; once, twice. He had hoped providing a few seconds might remind you of the unseen boundary of friendship you had crossed, once again. Just as bravely done as you had done four years ago.

“Stop kidding me,” You broke the silence, finally retreating your head. Huening Kai was awfully confused: you sighed, and went to sit in the swing adjacent to his, Huening Kai��s eyes never leaving you.

“ You probably thought it was a joke or something,” You drawled, “and it’s okay you know?”

Huening Kai knows it's not okay. He could tell that from the way your eyebrows were furrowed together, and that etch of frown that marred your glow. Huening Kai hoped it wasn't okay. It was selfish of him to wish that but the boyish feelings he had harbored for you way before yours even began to flutter, turned him into one of those emerald tactless monsters.

“It's okay if you didn't like me back.” 

Huening Kai internally groaned: he was going insane. The soft, pitiful tone you spoke in only added fuel to the hell fire that was already burning inside of his heart. He couldn’t blame it on the fried oreo Beomgyu had stuffed down his throat anymore. He might have been a coward years ago, but now his balls were all grown and ready to be used.

“Not true,” Huening Kai murmured, dragging himself across the steel seat to face the front.

“Very true,” You snapped back.

“You couldn’t have been further from the truth,’ Huening Kai snorted, avoiding your flaming eyes, sending you more death threats than a wounded fan at their bias’s wedding.

“Okay so you were madly in love with me? Ooh you would've died for me," You mocked him, but as though Huening Kai was hell bent on embarrassing the shit out of you, that bastard nodded at the ridiculous rumor you made up on that spot.

“Now that’s some good ol’ truth.”

“Nobody talks like that old guy!” You were mad; You were furious, your nostrils were flaring as though they had a life of their own and those lives were very stressful. It might have been years since you got ditched, but that was still your first actual in person crush, which remained unclear and now the offender of that deplorable act is sitting beside you and committing perjury. You could break his skull open.

Without a word, Huening Kai turned around meeting your accusatory eyes. His ones were serene, melting like candle wax, shimmering like the reflection of moon in a constant wavering lake, meanwhile yours were smokey, cautious and hurt clouding the pupil in iridescent droplets. You opened your mouth to plead, but nothing came out.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ was what you wanted to say. 

It was bizarre; insane actually how some gymnastic that snuck into your stomach was doing somersaults, like a whole butterfly convention letting all of them out in your gut. It was weird, because you had this exact torture executed on you years ago, on the command of this exact man.

“I wanted to tell you something that day,” Huening Kai began, breaking the harrowing eye contact that immured you, allowing you to breathe at last.

“I liked you,” Huening Kai confessed, letting out a breath of relief. The tingling sensation that erupted beneath his skin, electrifying him to the core. Despite the fear that laundered his entirety, it was freeing at last.

Although the same couldn’t have been said for you..

“I probably liked you before you did,” Huening Kai chuckled, throwing a side glance towards you, briefly catching the blanched appearance you adapted.

“You're pulling my leg.” You stated in a shaken tone, but it was just as quickly refuted by Huening Kai who shook his head.

“Do you think I’ve watched an episode of cardcaptor sakura in my life?” Huening Kai questioned, “Or inuyasha?”

Huening Kai was right: It had always been you who was a big fan of all those shows in that book. You didn't even know whether Huening Kai was even remotely aware of them except you mentioning them once in a while,yet the sticker book was filled with the obsessions you had rambled away to your heart's content.

It wasn't good, it wasn't good at all. The way Huening Kai looked at you; it made your heart skip beats like the first time you had figured out your irrational behavior, and palpitations were because of him. As though someone had turned back the clock, and they were back in the year and your biggest wish was for him to love you back. 

You shook your head, "But you," you murmured, closing your eyes to collect yourself, "But I thought you wanted my acorn!" 

Huening Kai was beside you in silence, trying to process what his best friend, and allegedly (according to you, it was still alleged) crush had said, before erupting in a fit of hysterical laughter. He pulled his head backwards, flinging his black locks along with him, clutching onto the metal chains to prevent himself from toppling over, all while you stared at him as if he had just smoked some green leaves. 

"You really are dense," He sputtered out in difficulty through his laughter, "I wanted a reason, not your acorn!" 

You opened your mouth to defend but closed it realizing you had nothing to put forth as evidence while blissfully ignoring the biggest lead for you to win the case. You slumped onto your uncomfortable metal plate of the swing, which was starting to hurt your tailbone, while slowly soaking in the new information from years prior that could have, frankly, changed the trajectory of your life. 

Your first love could have been fulfilled. 

"Why didn't you answer me back when I said I liked you?" You questioned, springing up from your slouched position, pointing an accusatory finger at Huening Kai.  

"I-" Huening Kai stammered; at this age, he had no idea why he had just ignored that completely despite sharing those feelings. A look of defeat washed over his features, his head lolling downwards in a wave of shame that washed over him upon remembering what a candy-ass he had been in front of you. 

"I am sorry," He apologized, "I guess, I was taken aback." 

"So you're saying we could have dated in school?" You wondered out loud, pushing kicking the ground to swing yourself as high as you could. It felt funny in your gut knowing that your one sided high school love affair wasn't as bad as you had cursed it for so long, although quite a bit unfortunate. No one ever told you that discovering that your old crush, with whom you had no luck getting together with now, was actually interested in you too. 

"It's kinda weird now, don't you think?" You added, turning to look at Huening Kai who never stopped staring at the soaring girl; glowing brighter than the moon that had embraced the navy sky. 

“Why weird?” Huening Kai queried, stretching his arms before standing up and walking behind you, hoping to return the favor he had promised you.

“It’s just,” You paused when Huening Kai’s hands grabbed onto your shoulders to prevent you from crashing into him. Myriad of stars detonated behind your closed eyes; Heart racing as though it is being chased by something that would guarantee it from ever beating, thumping against the rib cage at a brush of his hand.

Huening Kai murmured a quick apology, moving his hands onto the metal chains. The downside of his closed palms slightly touching your closed fists: an action that wouldn’t have affected you anyway, just ten minutes ago, but now it was a whole different conversation. Huening Kai just broke open Pandora's box, and you were the one suffering.

You were only one step, one innocent touch, away from experiencing all nine stages of grief in front of your ex-cush and current best friend, “Do you think we would have still been together?”

“I would hope so,” Huening Kai answered truthfully, he let go of the swing when felt it was a safe enough distance,”But your boyfriend might not like that idea.”

An impish smile decorated Huening Kai’s lips: he was aware of the fact that you currently had no boyfriend; a fact which you had no idea of. Truthfully he’s just testing the waters.

“I have no boyfriend!” You yelled out from above. Huening Kai smirked, quickly doing a congratulatory fist pump, and fixed his posture, pushing you back up when you came down. Thankfully, he was standing behind you so he didn't have to hide his grin and appear as if someone injected anesthesia into his lips while trying to hide it.

“Do you want one?”

If your heart skimped on doing it’s only one job which essentially runs your body, you might just admit yourself in a cardiac specialized clinic, and stamp the bill onto Huening Kai’s forehead. This time, before he could push you again, you screamed for him to stop and turned back to get a better look at the man.

And that bastard looked as though he was enjoying this. You were  now sure that your ex crush and current best friend is in fact a sadist.

Huening Kai bent down to look you in the eyes, 

"Do you want one?” He repeated his question; this time a little bit slower, a bit more earnest and an amped up sexual appeal which his 16 year self never could even if he plucked up the courage.

You were the first one to break eye contact, as you narrowed your eyes. You got up and stood in front of him, now looking up at him with your arms crossed, before booking it and running out of the playing ground. But in a comical turn of events, you hadn’t noticed the pull up bar in the dark and fell back within a second. If the pain wasn’t enough, the embarrassment was enough reason for you to dig a hole into the ground and bury yourself into it.

“Hey you okay?!”

“You couldn’t wait till I got discharged?” You deadpanned, touching the bandage on your forehead that you had acquired from last night’s mishap. 

“No,” Huening Kai quickly responded before pouting his lips to blow onto the spoonful of soup and took it towards you—which you consumed without any words. He had a content smile on his face, pulling his personal handkerchief out  and wiping the corner of your lips.

“I think for our first date,”  Huening Kai looked around, acknowledging the romantic setting of a plain hospital room, “This is pretty iconic.”

© itgirlgyu. feedbacks are always appreciated!!!

[akaiuchiha]

I discovered Frieren a little while ago (like, two to three months ago) and I absolutely loved it. I am a big fantasy fan and I love elves and that manga/anime was exactly what I wanted, what I needed

(Some spoilers I guess)

You know, the story in the end is quite simple and relaxing and yet, it is beautiful. It's just a journey but it is so sooo bittersweet. Maybe I'm a bit too sensitive but the fact that now, I'm almost sure that if I rewatch the first episode I'm going to cry, is absolutely insane.

I got fond ofHimmel. To the memory of him, of their past, of the pure love and care. I am attached to something that could have been but will never be. While reading it, I wasn't that much certain of it but now, yes I am. This story is absolutely amazing and I wasn't even aware how I was craving for something like that.

Also, I fell in love with the first opening. I know many didn't find it fit but...I disagree. In my eyes, it was the best thing they could have done. Even though I couldn't understand the meaning, I know some Yoasobi song and they never disappoint me. So knowing (I recognised the group immediately) that they had done the opening was a big plus for me.

Now I listen to it and that's... painful. It is so well done and grasp the nostalgia, the longing, the hope, the past, the present and the future so so well.

It is a masterpiece, and everyone who worked on it did such a good job (and I mean the author, the group and the studio, they all did well).

All of that just to say that this is the kind of manga that makes my heart aches in many ways but is still a beautiful work.

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 21/03/2024

Poké Village

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume C

Ripped by XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX

I've yapped on and on before on here about what the true core of SiIvaGunner is, be it comedy, emotion, shitposting, community, lore, what have you. There obviously isn't one true answer to that question: it's all subjective, not just based on your own reading of the channel, but your own experiences with it. As an aspiring writer, I love digging deep into its narrative and theming, the stuff found in Nice, Slick, Blackness and NIGHTMARESCAPE 〜Unrestrained HyperCam 2〜 (Final Boss Phase 2) - but other people are far more invested in the act of ripping itself, the people who go the mile beyond that even I do and keep up with all the various fan channels, or even make rips themselves. But no matter your angle, there's one thing that binds everything together, the thing that Poké Village and so many other rips represent. To share what you love, and love what others share.

I'm sure that at this point, Violet Snow Memories is one of my most-linked posts on this blog, but that's exactly because it represents that theme so well. Kyle Hyde's duology of DS Adventure games aren't exactly worldwide phenomenons, yet there are still people out there - people like Uncle Fill - who wish to share their love for the games in any way they can. And in turn, I myself have enjoyed hundreds of rips representing games and franchises I've never really engaged with much, franchises like Touhou with Imperial Touwer or Sable with Sable's Stickerbush. But it doesn't really matter whether or not I'M a fan of these series, when its ever-so-evident just how much the people making these rips love them, the love you can see in the rips themselves. And hell, I've said it before and I'll say it again: It was Chaze the Chat's love for Maroon 5 as a band, its early history and distinct style highlighted in the rips on SiIvaGunner, rips like As Miku Collides, that got ME invested in the band in return. Each ripper on SiIvaGunner, each contributor and fan submitter, wishes to share a piece of themselves with SiIva's audience, and it's truly heartwarming to see how many of us are able to look beyond the boundaries of fandom to appreciate real quality.

Which, then, brings us back to Poké Village - a rip featuring the Pokke Village theme from the Monster Hunter series. First appearing when the series was still primarily on the PlayStation Portable, and only reappearing on the core-fan installment Monster Hunter Generations. The franchise is far from niche, the song far from obscure - but it still isn't exactly a theme known to those *outside* of the Monster Hunter sphere, in the way that we for instance all know the tune of Green Hill Zone without having played a Sonic game. SiIvaGunner isn't exactly a gathering spot for the Monster Hunter community (the games themselves have a pitiful amount of rips on the channel), but by just Poké Village alone, you may be fooled into thinking otherwise.

What XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX's created here is a beautiful 7-minute arrangement of the aforementioned Pokke Village theme, initially led by the very same nostalgic Game Boy hum that leads much of the Johto Pokémon games' soundtracks. The extensiveness of the arrangement alone speaks volumes - it reminds me of rips like Jesus of the Underground right off the bat - but its hardly where the rip stops to impress. For one, I think the choice in game to use for this "bait-and-switch" arrangement is incredibly smart and quite deliberate. As an outsider, I need not have played a Monster Hunter game to get a sense for what Pokke Village is like, due purely to my associations with Ecruteak City and how those feelings are leveraged in the rip. I have no nostalgia nor attachment to any Monster Hunter game, yet the emotion present in just the rip's first half alone, the way the theme swells and settles, it conveys the rural village atmosphere pitch-perfectly. And all of it is, of course, elevated by the rip's unexpected twist - the remarkably seamless switch from the Pokémon GSC sound, to something far closer to a ground-up arrangement.

At first, I drew the conclusion that it was directly based on the Ecruteak City or Cianwood City theme of Pokémon HeartGold/SoulSilver, the 2009 remakes of the Johto Pokémon games for Nintendo DS. And while the arrangement feels incredibly similar to the sound of the DS, from the samples used to their quality, I can't directly connect the instruments used to either of the two city themes (which share a melody but with differing arranges). Yet the vibe is what truly matters, XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX is able to harness the warmth and comfort of those familiar DS-era samples to further bring home the sheer vibe of the Pokke Village theme that elevates the rip beyond its starting point, beyond its initial concept. I love pleasant surprise escalations like this, like I covered back in Plantasia 2, and much like that rip itself - I love how Poké Village is using it purely to further push a message of affection for a piece of media XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX seemingly holds very close to him.

Melody swaps between themes with such similar atmosphere are always some of the most surefire hits on SiIva, I'm reminded of just how quickly Aquadial enchanted me to name just one. And Poké Village certainly fits that mold, but I'm enamored by just how far XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX went to celebrate this theme that many of us are likely still rather unfamiliar with, to champion a franchise otherwise so underrepresented on SiIvaGunner with a seven-minute tribute covering two entirely different styles of arrangement. And it makes me so happy that it all worked, that the rip was able to hit the way it does without me having ever played a Monster Hunter game. Or in other words, that I was able to love the piece of himself that he shared in this rip.

[thisaintascenereviews]

Happy Birthday, Infinity On High.

Everyone’s got those albums that mean the world to them, whether it’s an album that they have specific memories attached to, an album that changed their lives in some kind of way, an album they just love, or an album that got them into music itself or a certain style, and I’m no exception. There are many albums that mean a lot to me, for one reason or another, and I’ve been wanting to work on a top albums list, because I haven’t done that in over a decade, but there are a select few that I put into the upper echelons of my favorite albums. These are the albums that are the best of the best for me, and I don’t have a whole lot of those. I’ve always thought there is a difference between my favorite albums and what the best albums of all time are, because I may love an album and it may be one of the best albums ever made, but it isn’t one of my personal favorites. I need to make a list of my top 25 favorite albums of all time, because that would be a fun and ambitious project, but that’s for another day. Nonetheless, It wouldn’t be a secret to say that my all time favorite album is Fall Out Boy’s third album, and major label debut, 2007’s Infinity On High.

I’ve made that clear many times over the the last decade, at least since I’ve been writing about music, but this is a record that can’t be understated. I’ve written about it a lot, but it’s worth writing about again, because it celebrates its 17th anniversary today. I’m writing this on its anniversary, and I felt compelled to talk about this record again, but I wanted to add something new to the conversation that I haven’t said yet. I’ve already talked at length about how catchy, infectious, and accessible this album was, especially for the band. They signed with Island for this record, and got a huge leg up when it came to guest spots, such as Jay Z providing some vocals for the first track, as well as Babyface writing and producing a couple of songs, which is reflective in its pop, soul, and R&B sound that shows up throughout the album. Infinity On High is their first blatant foray into pop, whereas 2005’s From Under The Cork Tree only flirted with it, and this album set the stage for most of their career afterwards. I would say that this is their most “experimental” album, although 2018’s Mania closely follows that, but Infinity On High is still my favorite album from them, as well as the album that got me into music. Without this album, I don’t know if I’d be the person I am today, or love the same music I do.

That’s also something I’ve talked about at length, but I find myself enjoying this album for different reasons as I’ve gotten older. I used to love it because it was an album that I had never heard before, especially as a teenager. Infinity On High wasn’t bound by labels or ideas, and it moved through different sounds and genres like it was nothing, but these days, I love the album for its unashamed experimentation and willingness to branch out and try new sounds. I didn’t know much about the band going into this album as a kid, but with all the context, and knowing how their career has gone, it makes the album hold up even more. Its experimentation is something I really love about it, but I do love this album for its hooks, melodies, and Patrick Stump’s vocals (the first time he was really able to express himself as a vocalist, and not be held back by standard pop-punk songwriting).

I love this album for different reasons now, but I can’t lie and say that nostalgia isn’t a big part of that. The album holds up extremely well, but this is one of those albums that has the power to take me back to when I was 13, and this album just came out. I have memories listening to this album in a Walkman in 8th grade, as iPods had just come out, or were starting to evolve, and I also kind of remember picking this up when it came out. Music used to come out on Tuesdays, and I didn’t get to go anywhere until Saturday, so I would always go to Target on Saturday, and pick out an album or two, then I’d spend that week listening to them, and only them, so that’s where my “rotation” comes from. I like to listen to a select handful of albums every week or two, at least until I get sick of them, but I remember picking this one up because I had sort of listened to Fall Out Boy before, and I saw that it came out, so I thought, “What the heck,” and the rest is history.

Fall Out Boy became my favorite band after hearing this, and they have the distinction of being my favorite band all of these years later, but it feels right. I’ve had other favorite bands throughout the years, but my music taste has changed, yet the one constant is Fall Out Boy, and that’s the big takeaway from my yearly celebration of this record. Even as I get older, and this record gets older, I still love it, especially as my taste has changed over the years. This is a record that I still love, 17 years later, and I still find reasons to love it even now. I’m gonna play this record today in honor of its birthday, and hopefully you do, too.

[splittersplatter]

Animal crossing will probably always be one of the most beautiful games I've ever played. Every single thing turns me into a sentimental fool, but I can only fit so much in one post.

The limited time events where you can make memories. The gorgeous sunsets in the summer. The ambience given every day by the bugs you can catch. The occasional Aurora Borealis in the clear starry skies at night...the meteor showers and fireworks shows...I've only played new leaf and new horizons, but both games are nostalgic to me.

Although New leaf has more nostalgia, respectively. It makes my heart ache whenever I hear any of the hourly tracks, because it reminds me of the carefree days when I'd just turn on my 3ds, walk around my town, catch fish, and talk to my favorite villagers during the day...then in the nighttime, I'd go up to the shopping district and go to club LOL.

The villagers I've encountered and gotten attached to...I've seen villagers move away from my new leaf town, and those days I was crushed. I somehow encountered them again in new horizons. Not many other games have touched my heart like animal crossing.

[oceanwithinsblog]

hewwo hewwo ‧₊˚✧

i'm back with yet again another poll !! you know how i love doing these haha

since i'm doing the nth harry potter series rewatch to get into the autumn and academic spirit (and i just know many were excited to go back at hogwarts on september 1st!), i was wondering ...

and why do you cherish this particular chapter of the series so much? why is it so dear to you? do you have any special memory or episode linked to it?

ʚ feel free to share ɞ

i'm gonna go first °₊✩‧₊

first of all, i've literally grown up watching this series so it'll always have a special place in my heart. aside from the love i have for these characters -some more than others-, it's also thanks to this story that i have many, many precious memories of my childhood.

when i was a little kiddo i always went around saying that the 3rd movie was my favorite (because of the whole time travelling dynamic, the introduction of sirius and remus, the admiration i had for hermione and the need i felt to pet buckbeak whenever he was on screen lol), but now things have changed. i'm 24 y.o. teacher and university student (majoring in english studies and still struggling to adapt to the adult lifestyle) so my point of view is much more articulated and complex than the one 9 y.o. me had. ^^

i think the movies i love the most now are the philosopher's stone and both the deathly hallows parts - that's because the first one feels like home and, besides finding comfort in my childhood nostalgia, the introduction to the magical world of hogwarts and its endless possibilities always makes my heart feel so full.

on the other hand, the deathly hallows film are very intriguing with their mysteries, adventures, missions, psychological questions and truths. every time i watch them i end up reflecting on some aspect of my life, of the world we share, of the society we are brought up in and the expectations people have of us. it's great to see how much thinking one piece of art/media can incite you to find answers to universal and atemporal queries. also, to see the characters i've grown up with be adults (like i am), face adversities and succeeding in carrying out a meaningful life is very inspiring.

what about you? i'm curious to read your comments/reblogs and see how the poll results will evolve through the week - submit your answer and share this post ｡*:･

[themattress]

Pokémemories: Ash's Goodbye

It's the final Pokémemories post, and what better note to end on than this?

Ah, Ash and Pikachu. I've of two minds about them.

On the one hand, let's be objective: there is zero logical reasoning for keeping them on as the leads of the Pokémon anime for 25 fucking years. They are rooted firmly in Gen I, and since Gen II is so tightly connected to it them staying on for that was fine, but for every generation and every region since it felt forced. It didn't help that Kunihiko Yuyama's vision for the characters as perpetual, unevolving mascots for new audiences of children conflicted with a large, toxic portion of the teen/adult audience online who attached onto Ash as a surrogate and felt personally slighted when he wasn't allowed to grow or win, and whenever he was perceived as regressing in his development as a Pokémon Trainer. The drama this caused, which even spread to the anime's staff to the point of death threats, made me resent Ash.

But on the other hand, I feel we did get good things from Ash and Pikachu and/or Team Rocket who were always not far behind throughout the 25 years they were in the anime. For example, Ash was solid in the Hoenn portion of the Advanced Generation series, while Team Rocket had many great showings in the Battle Frontier portion. Team Rocket was stellar in Best Wishes, as was Ash in Pokémon Journeys, and they both were at the top of their game in Sun and Moon. And for as much as I rag on adult viewers who let their childish attachment to Ash drive them to entitled behavior, I can't say I don't get where the sentiment comes from since I too was a child when first meeting Ash and getting invested in his quest to become a Pokémon Master, and so I did get emotional when learning that he was ending his run as the anime's main character, and doing so on a high note of becoming World Champion. In some ways, it was executed so well that it actually felt like it made the 25 year length totally worth it.

There are 3 points that I am left with and will not budge on:

1. It is good that Ash's time is finally over. The anime needed to move beyond him.

2. I question the wisdom of the Aim To Be a Pokémon Master! miniseries that sent him off. Initially I thought it was a way to ease fans into accepting it rather than just dropping him after the last episode of Pokémon Journeys, but the Teraleak has shown that it actually came about due to delays in Pokémon Horizons' production. In that case, just doing weekly re-runs of Ash's highest points in the anime would've achieved the same effect, and you didn't really need this nostalgia-bait miniseries that achieved nothing for Ash until its final episode. With that said, it was a damn good final episode, Team Rocket's underwhelming ending aside.

3. Pokémon Horizons is phenomenal and I am so glad for its existence.

And that brings us to Gen IX, the current generation of Pokémon, where more memories are being made. Ash may be spent after 25 years, but I'm not. I'm looking forward to 25 more!

[bluesicle]

I love Kingdom Hearts.

The first game specifically slams down all of the keys on the piano of nostalgia in my heart.

Every time I hear Traverse Town, I get a soft comfort in my brain that reminds me of the times before my whole life went downhill, and I want to keep it that way.

I first was introduced to Kingdom Hearts by my uncle who owned a PS2. Beforehand, I already had knowledge of Final Fantasy games such as X.

This was all back in first grade, so my mind is a little foggy. I saw my uncle playing a game that wasn't one I've seen him play on his PS2. Of course, I asked him what it was. When he responded by saying it was a mix of Final Fantasy and Disney, I was obviously interested. You know, since I was super young, it's probably safe to assume that I liked Disney movies.

He started playing it, the whole intro sequence played with the remix of Simple and Clean, and I fell in love.

I would watch him play, and my dad would point out the Final Fantasy characters. All the ones I knew, and the ones that I didn't.

Of course I wanted to play, but I never got that far. I sucked at the combat, and I still kinda do to this day. So for the most part, I would wait until my uncle was willing to play that day.

I watched him complete the game. I loved it!

I have vague memories of drawing the heartless on the backs of my papers during class.

But after a bit, I dropped it. I have forgotten about the game that I had loved so much.

Fast forward to 3rd grade, and I hit a very rough patch in my life that I can't let go of to this day.

Of course, I developed more of an attachment to drawing, like I did back in 1st grade. But I used it more of a way to be happy and escape such terrible things in my life. Drawing made me happy, like it did in my past.

Over multiple rocky years, my art was developing, and I was proud of myself. But I still didn't have much contact with Kingdom Hearts. I didn't care about it, because there were so many other things that I liked. Those things inspired me to draw. I didn't need to remember Kingdom Hearts.

I didn't realize until I re-discovered Kingdom Hearts sometime in summer of last year that Kingdom Hearts had more than just the one game. It is a whole, amazing, kinda confusing, franchise.

And now, I have more knowledge on the series.

My art skills have improved.

I hope I keep a hold of these games for even longer than I had before.

They have a special place in my heart.

First grade me would be so happy for me as of now.

And really, that's all I want to do. Keep my inner child happy. Remind myself of the good times.

I'm glad I re-discovered this series. And I'm hoping you can keep your inner child happy, just like I can.

(Blake if you see this post, do NOT point out the possible mistakes in it. You know my memory is full of holes.)