#when all I meant to write about were silly childhood memories

[notkakashihatake]

I've always thought of Ebisu and Genma in a sort of genin-days Sakura and Naruto type of light except not as intense and definitely without the romantic connotation. These boys didn't get the leisure of living in a time where war wasn't happening and they were free to take their time with their training and building their bonds as a team with Gai and Choza Sensei-- they both understood well enough that childhood and the "average" teenage experience wasn't something either of them were going to have the privilege to go through... war was active, and they both approached their training with their various Senseis as such.

They were both two very serious kids on a very serious mission and this, unfortunately and bitterly, was what they bonded over so strongly. Gai was a good teammate and they did their best to compensate him and his shortcomings, but the man's focus was on Kakashi and youth and living life to its fullest and having a borderline toxic-positive outlook on life and ideology where he'd never die, lose, or have to compromise on his morals was just something that Ebisu's "Everything Must Be Approached With Caution" childish mindset and Genma's "Nothing Is For Certain Until I See It Happen With My Own Eyes" critical thinking couldn't fully comprehend... They'd both make the silly mistake of writing Gai off as an idiot because of it and would learn their lesson on this the hard way over the years they'd spend together.

Gai was a driving force of positivity that kept the three of them stable whenever things took a turn for the absolute worst.

Ebisu was always the brains of the operation. He took in info about their enemies, noticed traps before anyone else, his memory was the best out of all three of them so they were almost never lost in any type of terrain or setting.

Genma thought himself the leader since he was the one who could keep a level head, absorb all the information Ebisu fed him, and feed off of Gai's excessive amount of confidence. I don't think he was a very confident kid when he was growing up so having Gai say all these ludicrous things about Living Forever and Overcoming All The Odds really helped solidify his own sense of self... He'd never say he was the leader of the team and he'd always pawn that title off onto Ebisu- he was absolutely terrified of the responsibility behind such a thing. If any of his teammates died, he'd be the one to blame, and failure was not an option in Genma's books since he had so much riding on him regarding all the sacrifices his family made to get him to where he was...

TL:DR; I think Genma and Ebisu became fast friends because of their more cynical and serious natures about the effects of war and what exactly it meant for them to become Shinobi. Genma had a lot to prove to his family, Konoha, and Hiruzen. Ebisu had a lot to prove in regards to defecting from his clan, making it on his own, and showing himself what he was capable of and how far he could go.

I CANNOT stop thinking about Genma...

(shit ton of Genma headcanons under the read more)

Nowhere Kid from another nation who doesn't know what the hell he wants out of life besides love, peace and acceptance...

some of his family defects to Konoha with the idea to give him a better life/future so he's already got a rough start as an Outsider

plus he's got this kekkei genkei that people say is disgusting beyond belief because he's literally gotta spit loogies on people in order to use it

bullied as fuck because of it so he's labeled as an outcast x2

he gets assigned to Team Choza, bullied for getting the Fat Sensei, bullied for getting one of the Prestigious Royal Clans Sensei, with a foreigner who can't use anything other than Taijutsu and another guy who's supposed to be a fellow 10 y/o but he's got the vocabulary and vernacular of someone from the 1950's and dresses like it too

literally GROOMED for the role of JONIN SQUAD COMMANDER/LEADER from the age of 13 onward (a la Shikamaru except his dad isn't around to stabilize him so he puts his whole heart and soul into this ideology)

"Protect and serve everyone else before yourself" becomes his life motto on the battlefield and personality

"Obey the Hokage if you want to protect your family"

"Serve Konoha as a whole if you want to protect your friends and fellow shinobi"

"Actions speak louder than words," as he learns the hard way that anyone and everyone will make the promise to serve, protect, and defend their allies, friends, family, and loved ones. He quickly learns the contrary that though a lot of people might say it, they don't have the strength, knowledge, or prowess to make good on those words, so it's actions that make a difference and not what comes out of peoples' mouths...

"Yeah you say that, but--" is Genma's actual catchphrase to all his friends and comrades, almost everyone except Raido, Aoba and a handful of others who aren't a few years his junior. His genin missions were spent protecting kids from Kurama's attack, locating missing children from Orochimaru's various labs, and attempting to spread peace on behalf of Konoha through his Hokage-mandated travels once the stress of being a teenage soldier finally threatened to break him and Hiruzen had no choice but to send him out to expand his horizons and worldview beyond Kill Maim Destroy Protect & Serve...

IDK MAN THAT'S A LOT OF PRESSURE TO BE UNDER and i feel for the dude so bad. plus he's cute as hell and i'm sure so many people wanted to lock him down with a ring and a promise of a peaceful future but he's just Not Built For The Domestic Life......

Domesticity was something he never got to experience so it's a far more horrifying concept to tackle than a battlefield full of bloodshed and lifeless bodies...

[one-silly-cart00nist]

Sunset after the Rain [Mark/David]

(because AO3 is down and I was planning to post the sequel to this fic soon so here you go tumblr: my ode to the creek and the start of my Elders brainrot)

Rated: G Word Count: 5k Pre-slash, Original Side Character (Jackie's gf for plot purposes)

It was a sunny afternoon at the creek the day when the Elder’s rock was busy outdoors. For the longest day of summer the three friends prepared a special celebration—a campfire and a sleepover under the rock with a few special guests to shelter. 

It was a sunny afternoon at the creek the day when the Elder’s rock was busy outdoors. For the longest day of summer the three friends prepared a special celebration—a campfire and a sleepover under the rock with a few special guests to shelter. 

Omar, despite being quite the youngest in the group, captured the hearts of the elders easily through his love of comics and videogames. Now that the Overpass didn’t need a guard and he had free time to spare, he found himself frequently showing up at the Elder’s rock borrowing manga and listening in on the DnD campaigns. He didn’t quite have the confidence to join in. 

David insisted Tabitha and Courtney would be invited to commemorate their friendship formed from sharing the pain of part-time at the smoothie bar. Mark wasn’t quite thrilled about it—and was still taking his time to get used to David’s new passion for the Goth lifestyle. But the wound of almost losing his friendship over a petty grudge was fresh and so he caved.

Then there was Annie. While her anime consumption was more casual than the elders, her passion for singing OSTs and her cheerful intrigue for all things nerd made her a favoured company. 

And wherever Annie went usually followed… Jackie. 

Currently looming above David who has just excitedly been telling Annie about the new shop he found online selling all kinds of clothes to fit his new aesthetic. 

Mark observed from a distance. 

The cold stare of his glasses that reflected nothing, the panic in David’s eyes as he trailed off mid-sentence, the smirk that bloomed on Jackie’s face at the reaction, and finally, how it faded into a much gentler smile when Jackie took the spot next to Annie. He extended his hand towards Annie, pinkie, pointer and thumb sticking out—Annie copied the gesture as she slotted her fingers alongside his. 

Mark didn’t understand what it meant. 

Correction: he knew exactly what Jackie was showing was jealousy. Admittedly, he was familiar with that, even though he didn’t have a cute date to justify it. He just didn’t know what the sign meant. 

He looked at David again. He recovered from the scare quickly and was now back on his excited monologue, fists held up and his whole body bouncing as he talked. It was less noticeable than what it used to be when they were younger but Mark knew what he was looking at to notice it. 

Past the logs they collected around the campfire, Barry has just emerged from the woods carrying a couple of sticks to roast on. Omar was right at his tail carrying rocks to circle the campfire. The kid was taking his contribution so seriously. 

Tabitha and Courtney arrived a minute ago with loads of snacks and cola. Now they sat across from Annie and David and chatted among themselves. 

Mark has tasked himself with tidying up the rock to welcome so many people—it was gonna be stuffy anyway but putting away some manga shelves and life sized replicas was the least he could do. Now that’s done he found himself watching the life around him. 

It hasn’t been that long since the fight after which he spent weeks alone at the rock before he packed up and started hanging out at home instead where his messy room and the internet would distract him from the sorrow and guilt eating him up. 

He was just going to the Elder’s rock to borrow the last volume of Two Piece when he found Barry sitting there all by himself. He feared the moment but found relief when Barry said he wasn’t mad anymore. Mark apologised regardless. Spending that afternoon with Barry gave him courage to reach out to David too. 

He didn’t realise how much he missed them both. 

---☀---

“As the good hosts we are,” David spoke with enthusiasm, “we should introduce everyone. I’m David and I work at the smoothies with Tabitha and Courtney. Who wants to go next?”

Barry took the spot next to him and greeted everyone, claiming his turn. Mark scanned the circle to see where he could sit—they prepared more logs than necessary to use them as spare tables for board games. The other side of David was still empty even though Mark would need to carry a log all the way over and he didn’t want to look that desperate. There was space next to Jackie on the fallen tree log but Mark wasn’t so fond of that kid. He didn’t even invite him. 

He chose to sit on one of the spare logs in between Tabitha and Jackie. It gave him a direct view of David… 

David and his ripped off sleeves and just one of many chokers Mark definitely hasn’t been keeping track of. His hair started growing out even more now that he didn’t trim it to fit under the old helmet, and Mark recalls how he mentioned wanting it pink eventually. 

It’s been weeks. It feels like they met again in college—it feels like seeing Kenneth on that phone call. He changed so much. He grew up to be popular and handsome and not into anime anymore. David grew up to be popular and handsome too. 

With pink hair and edgy clothes…? 

Maybe that too. 

He looked really happy and confident in his skin. Sure he had been before—walking around the rock topless despite not being the type to work out required that kind of confidence already. 

Ah. He never really cared for anyone’s opinion. David always cared about personal joy and harmony first and foremost. 

Mark had to admit that he was happy for him, seeing him like this. Even if he was in two minds about his own feelings towards the new gimmick. 

He still loved anime and Mark’s DnD campaigns. If he wanted to play as a sorcerer instead of a bard now, that was not Mark’s place to complain. 

He smiled to himself.

Then he looked up, disturbed from his thoughts by the sudden silence. He noticed David’s eyes on him. His heart skipped a beat. And then he slowly realised everyone had their eyes on him like they expected him to do something. For a brief moment he panicked if he wasn’t saying all that aloud, but David soon cleared the table, cheerful as ever: “It’s your turn!” 

“Oh,” he scratched his neck awkwardly as he willed away the scarlet of his cheeks. “I’m Mark. I am the expert of all things anime… and…” his gaze travelled to David who listened to him too intently for someone who already knew him. “And I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole to you David.”

“Aw… We’ve been over that,” David waved his hand in dismissal. “But your apology is appreciated. I’m happy we’re friends now.” 

Mark swore he heard coos from at least one of the girls present and felt his cheeks heat up at the attention. If either one of them decides to tease him about it, or about how he stuttered through his apology when his attention stuck on David’s eyeliner, he will consider drastic measures. 

Next was Jackie. He waved at everyone and pointed at himself. Then he gestured with his hand what Mark assumed was his name because Annie filled in the silence with a verbal introduction. He signed more and Annie translated that he likes swimming and baseball. 

At the end he turned to her with a sign akin to a blown kiss.

Mark never had a reason to learn ASL but he wondered how hard it is. If it was any different from learning Japanese like he did in his free time—a completely new sentence structure and a thousand of signs so unlike the english alphabet.  

“My name is Annie. I like to dance and sing and… a lot more things… but singing OSTs with the guys is what brings me here tonight.” She smiled and gestured at Jackie, as she continued to sign the rest of her introduction. “Jackie is my boyfriend, I hope no one minds him here. We’re both from the other side of the creek.”

“What is it like on the other side?” David inquired. “That’s where Kenneth is from.” 

The sudden mention of Kenneth’s name had unwanted thoughts flashing through Mark’s mind. His dyed blonde hair and blue contacts. His room, bare of any trace of his origins. He was almost unrecognisable. And the crushing reality of David keeping contact with him and yet he never reached out to the rest. 

It wasn’t surprising it was David whom he remained friends with. Who wouldn’t… It hurt nevertheless. 

“Pretty chill after King Xavior was overthrown.” Annie said, then turned to Omar, “We thank Omar and his friends for that effort.”

Omar set his can of soda aside and wiped his mouth on his sleeve while keeping eye contact with Annie, then her boyfriend. “We faced Jackie in combat back then. So pardon my uneasiness. It’s been a lot to get over after all those years.”

Annie tapped Jackie to make him focus as she signed what Omar said. She smiled as she watched Jackie sign back. “He says it was fun and that he will be better prepared for a future water balloon fight.” 

He smirked at Omar and nodded. “We’ll see that fair and square.” 

Annie continued. “It wasn’t a matter of choice to be on Xavier’s side. No one believed Xavier could be defeated. If Jackie turned his back on the king he would be in serious trouble afterwards. And being a champion wasn’t so bad—he could keep doing what he loved.” 

“Where were you during the war, Annie?” Omar wondered. “I don’t think we passed you in our search for the flag.” 

“I was casted out of the creek before the war began…” she laughed. “I might have punched Xavier. More times than I can count. It was… uh… deserved… but it wasn’t so bad. My only connection to the creek was Jackie, which allowed me to sneak in and before that, to get away with more than a regular kid could. I can’t blame him for sticking to the king to the very end.”

“Hold up— What?” Tabitha drew everyone’s attention to herself. “You guys had a monarchy in the creek? Dude that’s— What.” 

“It’s kinda been a thing for a decade now. We grew up into the system, messed up as it is.”

“Queen Cheyenne was chill.” Annie narrated Jackie’s signs again. “If there was a problem we sought help with, she would help, otherwise she was just a teen hanging out with her best friend at the royal tree house. She took her status seriously and wished to expand her rule across the overpass but she wasn’t that persistent about it. Xavier was crowned a couple of years ago and that quickly turned into a whole tyranny.” 

“What happened to that Cheyenne?”

“The worst possible thing—she concluded she was too cool for the creek.” Annie rolled her eyes. “Could never be me.” 

“No one is too old for the creek,” Barry exclaimed. A chorus of agreements came from everyone while Tabitha and Courtney shrugged their shoulders. 

“I can stand behind that,” Mark joined in. “Except for when we’re in college somewhere far away. Because you guys have plans or whatever.” 

Tabitha and Courtney exchanged grimaces. “Yeah, let's not talk about that.” 

“Let’s dive into the juicy part.” Tabitha cheered, getting up to pass around the plastic bag. She sat down throwing her legs over Courtney’s lap. 

Her girlfriend grabbed a can of cola from her hands and popped it open. “Literally, we bought smoothies. But you have to pay in gossip!” 

“Yeah. Barry—has someone captured your heart recently?” 

“Uh. No…” Barry scratched his neck awkwardly. “My heart is being crushed by advanced bio summer homework.” 

“Booring…” Tabitha complained with an exasperated sigh. “You guys really do your summer homework?” she shook her head in disbelief. “David, you tell us what you’ve been up to.” 

“Well… I’ve been experimenting with my clothes. I really like the stuff you picked out, I never thought I would be so comfortable in this.” He smiled bashfully as he twirled a hair between his fingers. “It’s really growing on me.” 

“It looks really cute on you,” Annie said. Jackie gave a thumbs up. Barry also muttered something encouraging. Mark felt his voice stuck in his throat. 

David curled into himself but despite that he glowed with all the praise. “Thanks guys.” 

Even when the rest of the circle shifted attention towards the next person in line, Mark’s eyes lingered on his friend. He had to agree with the compliments. 

“Annie, what about you and Jackie? How did you two become a thing?” 

Mark wasn’t particularly interested in that but he found himself following the story as Annie spoke animatedly. “To be honest… I was never gonna tell him that I liked him. I would say so out loud because I knew he wouldn’t hear but I couldn’t let him know.”

That made Mark pause. It was beyond him why Annie thought she needed to keep her feelings hidden. It wasn’t like it would be weird to like him. They have been friends for years and Jackie was clearly interested in her if he kept coming back. 

David never had to ask him to show up under the rock on his birthdays or to speed watch his latest anime favourites so they could spend the next few days discussing them. But they also simped for anime girls together. It didn’t make sense. It brought so many questions Mark didn’t have answers for. 

“…All until Elisa noticed my crush. She thought it would be fun to tease me, to make me insecure, that Jackie would never like me back. I was so frustrated and Jackie noticed. I had to tell him. I didn’t know how to sign it at that time, so I just drew a heart on his chest and he returned the gesture.” 

“Aww that’s so sweet!” Courtney cooed. 

Tabitha howled beside her. “That bitch can suck it! Look who’s got a boyfriend now!” 

“Language Tabi! There are kids with us!” Courtney calmed her down.  

“Huh?” Tabitha threw a look at the circle until her eyes landed on the hoodie kid. Her gaze darkened and her sharp teeth flashed in a dangerous smirk. “Oh. Omar?”

Mark watched in disinterest as the kid’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Nothing of that sort.” 

Jackie signed something with a snicker that only Annie understood and chose to not share. If Mark had to guess those two knew of some non supporting evidence for the kid’s statement. Not that he cared. 

Could kids like him already have crushes? 

Mark didn’t even remember when he… no, nevermind. That wasn’t a crush. Whatever it was, which he couldn’t name, it was not a crush. He would have noticed sooner. 

“Does David want to share his romantic discoveries?” 

Mark shot his eyes towards his clearly panicking friend. “No. David doesn’t want to.” 

That was both a relief and a concern. He was better off if he didn’t have to hear about whoever David was interested in but the answer made him wonder—what was the point of such defensiveness if there wasn’t someone in his mind? 

He really, really shouldn’t have thought of that. 

---☀---

Annie tore a pack of chips open and threw a couple into her mouth. “Should someone set up the games?” 

“Suit yourself. What are we playing?” Mark jumped to his feet, happy to distance himself from the conversation. He lifted the tower of board games he carried outside the rock for the occasion. “The choices are endless.” 

“David promised us he would show us your DnD business,” Tabitha shouted from the back. 

Annie shook her head as she mindlessly reviewed the game collection. “We should play something non-verbal. Like double.” 

Annie lifted her head with a grin as she signed her idea to Jackie who signed back quickly. “You’re right I’m unbeatable. Not even Keun Sup could outspeed me.” 

“What about uno?” Tabitha suggested. 

“Do we want to have a good time or do we want to scream at each other until sundown?” 

“We could play cards?” Omar tried. 

“Have any of you heard of Kent?” Annie asked then. A couple of people shook their heads while Jackie showed a toothy grin. “We send codes to our teammates when we have collected an all-symbol combination and try to not be caught by the other teams. Sounds good?”

An excited chorus followed. 

“Grab a teammate and come up with a secret code.” Annie instructed. “I’m with Jackie!” 

“Calling dibs on Courtney!” 

Mark looked around hesitantly. The choices were running out quickly. Even Barry already teamed up with Omar by the time Mark made up his mind to ask him. 

Which meant the only person left was… David. 

“So what code should we pick?” David beamed at him. His voice dropped into an excited whisper. “A wink?” 

Very predictable, the code and the mannerism that had Mark leaning away for personal space all the same. “Uh… oh… Sure. Yeah. A wink will do.” 

Annie and Jackie set up the cards while the rest of the teams were discussing strategies, likely already having a vault of different codes to switch between as they played. Mark expected no one could compete with the excited duo but he held some naive hope he could win at least a few games once he grasped the rules. He hadn’t spent his entire life playing games for nothing. 

The game itself was more about attention than the cards. 

In the first round Mark had his last ace snatched from under his palm. It meant two things—he was left to observe instead of collecting like all the rest, and that Omar who swept his card was out of the round with him. 

The game was also about knowing people. 

He called out Barry pretty easily when he rapped his fingers on his thigh out of nowhere. That was a classic impatient Barry thing. 

Annie fared just as well in terms of catching people red handed. 

“Courtney, your make-up is so pretty today.” 

“Out! Tabitha is out!” Annie would exclaim cheerfully. 

“What? Not fair! Can I not compliment my girlfriend?” 

Somehow the banter only added to the pleasant experience. It built Mark’s competitive spirit and brought laughs and had the time fly so fast. 

“What’s your code even supposed to be?”

“We will never tell!” 

---☀---

The sunlight soon faded too much to see the cards in front of them properly and so the group of friends moved on to the main event of the night. Barry and Tabitha crouched by the campfire with crumbled newspaper and a lighter. Omar sharpened the roasting sticks quietly in the corner. Annie and Jackie set up an actual table to place all their food on. 

David and Courtney sat back engrossed in a conversation. 

Mark stood there idly as he tried not to look at them too much. 

He spent most of his childhood with Barry and David and Kenneth. He never looked to make more friends—he already had company that shared his interest in anime so what more could he gain. Not like he expected to ever lose either of them. They were supposed to be inseparable, if not for their shared hobbies then for the fact there wasn’t anyone else they would turn to. 

Now David had actual friends outside of the Elder trio. Mark was happy for him. At least he tried to be. 

But… It seeded a worry that David would no longer need his old friends when he found another place to belong like Kenneth did, would no longer need to settle for someone who’d been so hurtful towards him without realising. Mark wanted to turn back time and make sure David didn’t set foot out from under the rock on that fateful day. 

Would that mean he’d still sit here in front of them shirtless with his cape warming him against the chill of the evening and his helmet set down on his lap so he could lean his forearms on it and support his head? 

The mental image competed with the sight before his eyes until they faded into one. 

David with one knee supporting his head, hiding his choker and the front of his shirt. His hair flowing down the sides of his face, untamed even as he tucked stray strands behind his ears. The eyeliner only made his wide eyes more noticeable. Like it wasn’t hard to look away from them already. 

---☀---

As darkness covered the clearing and dimmed the view, Mark found it easier to keep his eyes and thoughts away from David. The campfire added a nice layer of warmth to the summer night and the roasted bacon and marshmallows brought the same warmth to Mark’s stomach. 

There was program as well—Courtney and Tabitha telling spooky stories that allegedly happened in the creek. Mark knew half of them from his own childhood, being scared while Barry and David always rushed into the adventure of finding out its truths. It was mostly Barry. David was curious and eager to learn but not so much a brave soul, sweaty palms always enclosing Mark’s wrist or sleeve. 

An innocent soul, even now. He was so easy to push around that Mark hadn’t even realised he had been doing so. 

---☀---

At some point during the night David pulled out a ukulele. Mark recalled hearing him practise at the rock a few years back but David back then was terrible and he couldn’t stand the noise. He must have practised a lot since then because he was nothing like the awkward off key performances of ninth grade. 

He played a melody that everyone at the circle knew as they all hummed along but among all the voices only David stood out to his ears. That part of his performance was still… less than charming. 

Mark supposed that was good. It was familiar. It was his David. 

---☀---

First yawn of the evening and the emptied supply of food slowly moved the program inside. 

Jackie slid under the rock with ease and extended his arms towards Annie whose eyes were already falling shut as she crawled in. He took off his cap and glasses before he climbed into his futon. It looked like they were both done for the night. Not like anyone else here could use ASL to help him keep up with the conversations. 

Omar set his futon underneath the anime figurines shelf. He flipped through the comics scattered nearby as he waited for the rest of the group to settle down. It wasn’t long until he was snoring nose deep in the pages. 

Tabitha tried to play cool as she challenged the rest to stay up the latest but ended up falling asleep in her girlfriend’s lap early on as well. 

Soon it was just Courtney and the elders. 

They formed a much smaller circle and kept their voices hushed so as to not disturb the rest. It felt weirdly intimate to huddle up—especially with David leaned against the wall by his left, not exactly leaning into him but close enough to let his mane brush over Mark’s shoulder now and then. 

Speaking in a whisper, David’s voice was much more stable and calming. “Is this the part when we tell each other secrets?”

“I don’t know. This is the part for anything that felt too out of the left field in the sun.” Courntey replied and yawned. “If there are any thoughts you want to share, the floor is yours.” 

David seemed to think about it for a long while. His eyes always wandered off when he was deep in thoughts—a habit that was rare, for David’s mind usually worked at a speed unmatched by others, but prominent nonetheless. At one point it was clear to Mark he was no longer caught up in his thoughts. Rather, waiting for a cue to speak. 

When no one else took the spotlight, he finally spoke up. “I was really sad and hurt when I left this place behind. I feel that bitterness at the back of my mouth now that I’m back. It’s on my mind all day.” 

Mark averted his eyes in guilt. 

“But it’s being rewritten by new memories, both here and at the smoothie place. And it helped me push myself to meet new people and try out new things. I would have never dared to show up like this to the creek. At least… not now. I’m still exploring how I like to see myself.” 

He fidgeted with his sleeve. It caught Mark’s eye and urged him to reach out. He didn’t know where that action would have ended so he suppressed it quietly. Maybe he wasn’t quiet enough. 

David looked up at him. Mark swallowed. “When you walked up to the counter and saw me and still wanted me to come… I care about what you think. It frustrated me when I realised how much I let myself be stomped on because of it.” 

The lump in his throat grew more uncomfortable as he listened to David’s words. I care about what you think. That was a new one. Something he might have only figured out recently, or didn’t feel like saying when they first spoke about the argument. 

Mark had thought about his own apology too, how he could have been more open. “I never meant to make you feel… to hurt you. I was really happy that I had you by my side. I took that for granted.” 

The rest was a familiar tune on the tip of his tongue. “It felt terrible to be here alone too. Like when your favourite show never airs its final arc. All you’re left with are the hopes of what could have been.” 

And lastly, what fell out of his mouth when David reached out for his hand and he felt like he was staring for too long: “I don’t know if I like this… everything… but I’ll get used to it. I promise. It’s okay to change. Just don’t ditch me again. Please.”

“Listen to me when I tell you that you’re pushing too hard. Okay?”

Mark shut his eyes. “I will. I promise.” 

The silence was unnerving—so much so it led Mark to open his eyes again. He didn’t want to face David’s reaction but he couldn’t stand being left in the dark about it. 

David was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read. It was uncommon, David wore his heart on his sleeve, or so Mark thought until now. 

Soon David’s gaze softened as he reached out with open arms. Mark was never so relieved to hear someone speak. “Come here, I missed you…” 

Everyone who grew up with Mark knew he wasn’t one for hugs, for any physical affection really. He didn’t like getting up and personal. Still he found himself clutching onto David’s waist and enjoying the warmth the simple gesture brought to him, like he was still at the campfire. 

As they pulled away their gazes lingered on each other. It was Mark who looked away first, weak against the gentle smile on David’s lips as well as suddenly aware of Barry’s presence. He looked at him but couldn’t think of what to say. The apology was meant for him as well… Mark was just completely scooted by the heat in his chest that he kept for his best friend. 

Barry seemed to understand what was going through his head, patting his shoulder and letting Mark’s palm rest on the back of his hand to thank him for the silent understanding. 

Mark’s heart soared with relief. Like they haven’t had the same heart to heart a few weeks ago. Like he hadn’t heard them accept his apologies half a dozen times already. 

David hugged them both back then, hesitant but earnest. It was the same and yet so different when he hugged Mark a moment ago. It felt intimate. Like it was meant for only the two of them. Like there was no one watching. 

David never cared about who’s watching. Mark had always adored that about him. How he existed in his own bubble sometimes, savouring happiness and completely oblivious to the world around him, by choice or otherwise. Mark felt being a part of that bubble just now. 

No one has spoken a word since David invited him for a hug. All the same people could be shouting right into his ear and Mark is sure he wouldn’t hear a word of it. 

He stared ahead until David’s cheeks gained a scarlet colour and he finally looked away sheepishly. Mark felt his face heat up as well. 

“Well, I’m out,” he announced abruptly, getting onto his feet. “Do whatever you want but I shall head to sleep.”

David leaned backwards. “O-Oh. Yeah. I’ll follow suit.” 

Mark felt his eyes leave a warm trace on his back as he walked over to his sleeping bag. He didn’t bother turning around even when he heard hesitant footsteps. 

“Okay, let’s tuck you in then…” that must have been a whisper by Courtney, probably awkwardly manoeuvring Tabitha off her legs. Not Mark’s problem. 

He turned to face the wall. He could hear the rustling of the sleeping bags and some whispers. It had never been this lively at the Elder’s rock before—not ever since the three friends used to stay the night from time to time in middle school. It certainly never was this crowded. Mark’s mind was never so restless.

He internally laughed at himself, at how the evening with friends and extended company and plenty of distraction still led his head to wrap around David. He probably thought about him so much he’ll think of him in his sleep too. For the better or worse. 

Probably for the better. If he had to admit to it—and if this was going to be a theme in his life now. Then he should look at the bright side. 

[saeist]

to my first ── s. itoshi

synopsis: words i'll never get to say. from me, to you, my first genre: childhood lovers(?), mutual pinning, angst? word count: 3.9k warnings: the interactions with sae is basically just memories of the reader? hopefully i can pull off whatever writing style this is. pls bare w/ me!! notes: this is a little personal for me to write. i just felt like i needed to write this out of my system (T—T) i keep having reoccurring dreams about this specific person and i'm going crazy reminiscing what we could've been (i was literally 11 years old) listening to: about you – the 1975 & you were beautiful – day6

as much as you hate to admit it, you do believe in the saying "first love never dies"

first love, 

first love is something you’d describe your relationship with sae itoshi. 

you don’t really remember how it all started. everything seemed hazy to you now. like a long, lost forgotten memory you buried deep inside your mind. you swore you’d never relive those memories, as it felt like reopening an old wound

it's been almost a decade since you both left with unspoken words and feelings but you're sure that you've moved on. you're sure you are. you have moved on long ago when you realized you'll never see him again

it was silly really. it only took you a photo to remember everything about what you had with sae. maybe agreeing to catch up with old distant family friends was a bad decision on your part. apparently catching up with distant family friends also meant looking through old photo albums, reminiscing the good memories

looking back through the years, there were just moments in your life where you thought to yourself that maybe, just maybe everything wouldn’t be as shitty as it was now if you two were still together. times where you wished and prayed that everything was just a dream and as soon as you wake up, you know he’s still there.

with you.

it was in elementary school where you first met sae

among the other kids in your class, you and sae just strangely clicked. except for the times sae just felt the need to comment and insult the way you do things but despite that, there was a strange but comforting feel between the two of you

you've just recently moved to the neighborhood and coincidentally right next to the itoshi's. that meant that you lot would walk home together after school which prompted you and sae to get to know each other a little day by day

surprise was an understatement when sae first asked his mom if you could come over after school. mrs. itoshi was more than delighted that sae actually made friends in school but what she didn't expect was it was you who came over, the new girl next door

sae had felt something different about you and you knew that. he treated you differently than the others. he was more gentle and more light with his words with you. if it was anybody else, he would’ve already lashed out on them calling them prickly names to get under their skin

ironically enough, you two first bonded over minecraft.

“honey, i’m home” sae called out in a bland sing song voice, his player entering the house that you specifically made for the two of you

“what was that about” you giggled, whacking his player with your own

“nothing” sae says quickly placing his minecraft bed next to yours. “c’mon let’s sleep”

maybe you two were just naive as kids, not knowing what the warm feeling in your chests really means

it was the summer of sixth grade when you started to see sae in a completely different light

at this point, you and sae were known as childhood friends and nothing more. over the summers, you hung out with sae less frequently

it was no big deal, though. it was just kids going through personal growth. even if you and sae didn’t hang out like you used to back in elementary school, the family hangouts continued. over the years of you and sae being inseparable, both families had also bonded and formed a close friendship, becoming what one would call family friends.

there was a math training camp that your school holds every year and your dumbass decided to join for the baseless reason that your friends were also joining that same year

in your defense, you only joined because you didn't want to be left out on what they did over the weekends at school. so much that you eventually signed up even if you couldn't be bothered to answer math questionnaires that you don't even understand

however, towards the end of the training camp, you found a completely different reason on why you decided to stay

turns out sae had also signed up (probably because his parents and teachers encouraged him to join after seeing him excel in academics especially in math) for the math training camp

you will never forget the look on sae's face he saw you enter the classroom. he didn't think you were the type to join these type of things. when you catch his stare, you gave him a small wave and sat right next to him — to which he pays no mind, he was busy paying attention to the proctor up front anyway

—

the long day filled with reading different levels of math has come to an end when the proctor leaves the classroom

you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on the armchair, brain completely fried from exhaustion. what the fuck did those symbols even mean? could you six graders really answer all those questions?

sae snickered beside you, glancing at your exhausted face

"tired already?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. the way he said his words almost felt like he was mocking you but you know he means well

"haha. very funny mr. genius" you laughed obnoxiously, waving him off as you look up at the ceiling

"just saying" sae puts his hands up in mock surrender. you can already see the smirk on his face but for now, you don't fight back. not now. you were too tired to come up with a snarky response

amidst to your small talk, your classmates had began flinging each other's shoes. tomfoolery, as you'd like to call it. how they still have the energy to make fools of themselves like they didn't just go through psychological warfare learning about a whole new world of mathematics hours before is beyond you

you sat up straight, attention now at your friends, “look at them.. what idiots” you commented, stifling a laugh as you watch friends and classmates run around the classroom just minutes after the proctor had left

sae bit back a laugh and nods in agreement. “yep”

you both shared a look before bursting into laughter.

you like to think that was the start of everything. the start of fire you two unknowingly ignited.

you don’t regret attending that damned math training camp your school held that one year. you don’t regret wasting your precious afternoon trying to answer those damn questionnaires that you don’t even understand. you don’t regret sitting next to him that day, 

you don’t.

—

the night after the first day of your school's annual math training camp was never the same ever again

that was the night you and sae began talking online for the first time. after hours, as you'd like to call it. the initial message popped up on your screen, and soon, a stream of text flowed seamlessly between you two

it all started with just a simple 'hello, what are you doing right now?' to discussing basic interests, to different niches you two are into, and before you know it the birds were chirping and the sun was already been up. the quiet of the night had been filled with the soft tapping of your keyboard and controlled laughter, creating a private bubble where your friendship deepened and kept in the digital realm for years to come.

this went on for a good month before you realized that he had became a daily routine to you

despite all of that, it was still pretty hard to believe that you got close with sae again in just a short amount of time. you two were drastically different. you didn’t particularly stood out as you just liked to keep things to yourself and close friends. sae on the other hand, he excelled both in academics and sports. even going as far as taking piano classes during the weekend just because

you like to think that maybe it's just fate, a twist of life’s unpredictability, or maybe it's something deeper that neither of you could yet understand?

who knows?

it was in your homeroom classroom where you felt butterflies for the first time

you two were now freshmen in high school. fresh off middle school, fresh off that summer where you and sae had the whole world in your hands

the transition to high school brought with it a mix of anxiety and anticipation, the new environment buzzing with energy and the promise of new experiences

you and sae were deskmates at the start of the semester. you can't tell if this was on purpose by the teachers or fate was just doing it's thing

up until now, your unlabeled relationship with sae was going steady. just the usual chitchats and banter after school in the comfort of your two homes

you were just sitting beside him, listening to the teacher up ahead when you suddenly feel a hand snake their way on top of yours. the hand quickly intertwined its fingers with yours, and you’ve never felt that weird feeling in the pit of your stomach before

what was that?

you turned your head to look at the only person who could do such a thing

it was sae

it was sae, who was looking directly at the teacher in front of him like he was the only one present in this room. completely disregarding your curious stare beside him.

all of a sudden it felt like everything has gone into slow motion. the classroom around you seemed to blur, the chatter and movements of other students fading into the background as the touch of his hand anchored you in the moment

before you could've reacted further, the bell rang

sae untangled his hand from yours and walked away to move on to the next subject as if nothing had happened, leaving you to process the lingering warmth on your skin amidst the bustling noise of students packing up and the chatter filling the classroom. the abrupt return to normalcy felt jarring almost, the ordinary sounds and movements of your classmates contrasting sharply with the intimate moment you had just shared.

you can only stare at his back in complete shock on what just happened

what the fuck just happened?

little did you know, that was just the beginning of everything

—

you were starting to think you were going crazy. you're convincing yourself it was just some sick twisted dream. it has to be, it had to be. there was just no fucking way that just happened

asking sae directly was a bit too much, and you knew that. you knew that he wouldn't give you a direct answer– hell, you're lucky if you'd even be given an answer about that

so instead, you decided to test the waters again. if you could somehow lure him into doing it again then, you'd have your answer

your class was at the library for some reading exercises when you decided to put your plan into action. It was simple, really. you placed your hand at your side under the table, hoping sae would take the bait.

he did.

sae tightened the grip on your hand when he intertwined them for the second time today. it was like he was trying to tell you a message through that little action

this time, you dared to look at him. you lightly tugged on his arm, hoping it would catch his attention

to think your little plan had actually worked the second time, you knew something was up between the two of you.

sae decided to play coy, much to your disappointment. he began writing down in his notebook using his left hand while his dominant hand was busy holding yours under the table, yet he still showed no other signs of acknowledgment what-so-ever

it almost felt like he was tormenting you

sae feels a small smile tug on his lips when he catches you looking away while pouting.

how cute, he thought to himself

you didn't know how to bring it up to him later on when you two get home but you don't miss the way the tips of his ears have a slight tint of a red hue when he held your hand under the table

whatever this set up you two had, it went on for awhile without anyone noticing. sae would randomly hold hands with you under the table and shake you off once the bell rings as you move on to the next next class

sometimes you think he’s doing it on purpose to mess with you but at the same time, you don’t. 

it was during science class when sae blushed for the first time

it's times like this that you were glad your teacher made you sit at the back row

instead of listening to your teacher's discussion, you had your own discussion with sae, who was seated right next to you about movies you've both watched growing up

“that’s not how it goes though” you hushed, trying to not raise your voice as the science teacher was in front of you, teaching a lesson

“you’re wrong then” sae argues back, jotting down notes on a piece of paper. 

you clicked your tongue in annoyance, “did you even watch the movie?” you asked, raising your voice a bit. sae suddenly looks up from his paper and looked at you, annoyed

“i should be the one asking you that” he argues, diverting his attention back to his messy notes. you wonder how he could still be at the top of the class when his notes are all over the place

before you could argue further, it seemed like the entire class including the teacher was listening to your little argument

“would you mind sharing your heated discussion back there to the class?” your teacher chimes in, halting your heated argument at the back.

you and sae both freeze in your seats. you slowly turned your head to see the rest of the class staring at the two of you with knowing smiles and smirks.

sae opened his mouth in an attempt to defend himself but the furious blush creeping up from his neck to his face says otherwise. 

“kids these days..” your teacher teased, obviously up to date with the rumors circulating around you and sae. the class giggled as sae shifted awkwardly in his seat with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

your ‘relationship’ with the red head has been slowly progressing into something more. that of which didn't go unnoticed by your fellow classmates and teachers

whatever your status was with sae has already spread among the class. the innocent teasing of your fellow classmates, commenting how cute you two were as a couple spread like wildfire. 

you're not too sure if what propelled your relationship with sae was caused by the innocent teasing by your classmates

it was in his room when you asked sae what you two were

you were almost akin to the itoshi household that it didn't bother them that you'd stay over for multiple periods of time. you were like the daughter they never had and they've always welcomed you with open arms.

you held hands with him again that night. you were lying down on his bed with him, a few inches of space in between. “distance” is what he says as he intertwined his hands with yours – again.

“this is weird.. what are we?” you asked.

sae shrugged, holding your intertwined hands up high, almost like he’s inspecting it.

“i don’t know”

you don't miss the small smile on his face when you waved goodbye to him when your mom picks you up after work

there were times where you just wanted to ask him, “why me?” but you knew he would just throw a backhanded compliment saying that you were more tolerable than the others he knew. 

instead, you didn’t think too much of it. you’ve already brought up the question to him in your daily conversations. to which he usually just dismisses it as nothing

after all, he himself wasn’t sure if you two were even a thing.

[10:45 PM] you: sae, seriously.. what are we?

[10:46 PM] sae itoshi: i don't know

it was in the hallway when sae accidentally lashed out on you

sae was addictive

sae had became a drug that you couldn't stop taking. ever since that night, you couldn't end your day without at least talking to him. sae had become apart of your everyday routine. you had grown accustomed to his daily commentary about anyone and anything

it turns out not only his teachers can make sae flustered, but also his own set of friends

they were teasing sae again when you walked right past them. there was an unspoken rule between the two of you where you two act like you weren’t that close outside the classrooms, something you never really understood the concept of

you rolled your eyes per usual and ignored the obvious innuendos thrown about the two of you. 

“why do you look constipated?” you laughed as you two finally got some alone time at the back of the classroom, just a few minutes before the classroom gets filled with students after lunch “it’s my friends, they’re being stupid as usual” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“why? did they say anything about us?” you joked, swinging your feet off the table

sae visibly stiffened at the question, ���yeah but it’s nothing to be concerned about” he huffed after giving it much thought

“i want to know what they said” you whined, pouting in front of him. somehow it occurred to you that he actually gives in when you throw the puppy eyes at him.

sae flicked your forehead, “no.” he says flatly. you grab onto his hand, swaying it slightly. “sae c’mon just tell me i swear i won’t be offended” you pestered him, poking his chest til he gives in. 

“they said disgusting things about us okay?! happy now?!” sae snapped. “i won’t get into detail but i really wanted to wipe the smirk off their faces” he seethed

“oh..” you squeaked, feeling small

sae picks up on your sudden discomfort and pulled your head against his chest. “i'm sorry. i didn't mean to yell" he murmurs, "don’t worry though. they won’t bother us anymore. i already told them off earlier”

it was during rin's 14th birthday when sae realized he liked you

you were at his house again. it was his brother’s birthday and your family came over late due to the fact that your younger brother also had his kindergarten graduation on the same day.

“you’re well dressed today, y/n-san” his brother, rin comments as you enter their house.

“that’s because i came after brother’s graduation” you retort, tapping rin's cheek, not forgetting to greet him his birthday wishes

“yeah right” his brother scoffs, pushing your hand away. he was exactly like sae at the end of the day “use protection or whatever..” rin says when you knock at sae's room before you enter

you were about to tell rin off for saying such things about you and his older brother when sae yanks the door open

“what the hell was that dumbass talking about— woah” sae's eyes peered over to the dress you were wearing. " you look pretty" he mumbles, grabbing your hand and dragging you inside his room

it was almost midnight when you realized that you talked the night away with sae in his bed, under his covers

"oh shit, it's almost midnight" you pulled out your phone to check the time that reads 11:11 PM

sae took a moment to listen for his parents laughter outside his door. he pats your head and intertwined your fingers under the covers

"it's fine. they're still having fun outside so let's continue what we were talking about" sae says, going back to the topic that you lost track of

you pulled your intertwined hands as you take a good look at it

"sae, i think i like you" your little naive self admitted

sae smiled but you didn't see it

"i like you too"

before you could’ve said anything, the door to sae's room bursts open to reveal rin and your little brother.

in that moment, you and sae sat up and tried to fix yourselves. not like you two did anything inappropriate but the mere thought of it just sent shivers down your spine. not when rin and your little brother were at the age where they would tattle to their respective parents

"i think we're going home" you murmured to sae, patting his leg before standing up and walking over to your brother and rin

"i'll chat you when i get home, sae" you waved goodbye, closing his door on your way out

you missed the big smile on sae's lips when he realizes that he liked you back

it was the following summer when you unexpectedly had to move away

it all happened too fast

some complication had happened between the jobs between your parents that resulted to having no choice but moving far away to the countryside

from what you've heard, your parents and sae's parents had a falling out amidst everything. your dad was convinced mr. itoshi had something to do with his job then word got out then one thing led to another and now you're here, being told off by your mother that you had to cut all contact with sae

"just for a couple of months til we get back on our feet. we don't want them to know where we are" your mother tried to convince you. she tried so hard. she inevitably had to take your phone and deactivate whatever social media you had on there to keep your locations a secret

this was stupid, you thought to yourself. this was between the adults but you still lived under their roof so you had to do what they said

you never saw sae ever again after that

they say fate can be the most cruelest thing

it's been almost nine years since the incident that you had to leave the life you spent years yearning what you could've lived

nine years of radio silence from both ends of a string you call fate

your family had reconnected with a mutual friend that didn't take sides when your family and the itoshi's had a falling out

you met up with the mutual friend and had a good long conversation about how life has been treating you since then

one could say you never got the closure you wanted after that day. even if nine years had passed, the little girl in you who sae had on the palm of his hands, still firmly believes that if you two were destined to cross paths again after all these years, it would all still be the same

your mutual friend had graciously showed you a recent picture of sae itoshi over the years and all you could say was

wow.

it's too late now, you think to yourself. nine years too late. you already had your life figured out. you were finally happy and in a committed relationship for a couple of years now but yet, the feelings you didn't know you still had in you, all crashed around you with just a single picture of the first boy you think you've ever loved

── they say first love never dies

maybe in another life time, in another universe, maybe you two will cross paths again. this time, in the end it will end with you.

[anitalenia]

hii!! i love your works! could you do some prompts with friends to enemies to lovers? like they were childhood best friends but became enemies because of a misunderstanding but then their feelings start to change??

also LOVE UR BLOG <333

friends to enemies to lovers prompts . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⋆˙⟡♡ thank you so much for the request ! I love when people request things I haven’t done in a while. Thank you for supporting and liking my blog, it’s much appreciated and I’m very grateful 🫶���✨🩷🖤 I hope these prompts are to your liking ���🏻‍♀️

⋆˙⟡♡ not gonna lie I had a hard time with this because I wasn’t sure what kind of prompts to write 😭 so if I did it wrong I deeply apologize 🫶🏻✨

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They can never be in the same room without arguing — A is still hurt because of what B did and refuses to listen to them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A has never stopped thinking about person B even though B hates them now

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “Don’t act like you never loved me.”

“I don’t… I can’t.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and person B found it easy to love each other despite their brief quarrel — they used to be best friends after all

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A struggles to admit they love B after all the hurt and betrayal they suffered from because of them in the past, afraid it will happen again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They both are enemies yet as A goes to kill B memories of their childhood together flash before their eyes and they don’t have the courage to do it… B forgives them and holds a crying A in their arms

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “You were just a friend… you meant nothing to me.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that after everything we did together.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and person B have long since ruined their friendship but can’t seem to stop remembering the other… staring at a picture they took as children or a withering flower they picked together in the garden all those years ago. It was much simpler times then… times when they didn’t know they were destined to kill each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B share long, lingering stares as they soak in the grown up appearance of their childhood friend… no longer a child and no longer a friend yet it seemed love still lingered somewhere in the familiarity of their gazes. It would appear that love was not all lost, just carefully hidden

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They can’t stop reminiscing about their brief hatred towards each other as they laugh about how silly it was years later

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “How can you forgive me? After everything I’ve done?”

“Because I know who you are better than anyone. I knew you before… this. I know this isn’t who you really are and I’ll be damned if I let anyone try and say otherwise.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Once A realizes they love B they can’t seem to hide it very well, so they’re unintentionally rude towards B — B is very confused and now thinks A hates them all over again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A has a chest of all the artifacts from their childhood, including photographs and mementos of B. A can never stop thinking about what went wrong with B and regrets everything, wanting B back more than anything

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B always finds themselves talking about A to their minions even when they’re not around + minions are entirely aware their boss still harbors feelings for their enemy

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “Why?! Why did you save me?!”

“Because I love you… because… ever since we were kids you always needed saving. So, who better to do it than me?”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Once their feelings start to change for each other A refuses to acknowledge them and becomes more grumpy / cruel to B, their used to be friend now enemy

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are forced into close proximity and all those memories of their shared childhood (they were each others first kiss) start flashing through their mind as the heat thickens

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A wears a necklace or bracelet that B gave to them as children and can never seem to take it off even after the hate they now carry between them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A can’t help but defend B knowing better then anyone that B weren’t always evil. B looks at them grateful (confused, love struck that A would actually stand up for them after all this time)

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are lying in bed together and talk about the scars littering their bodies from their reckless adventures as children, even the fresh marks riddling their skin from when they tried to kill each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B is now evil but keeps having dreams of their childhood best friend now enemy. A is also having dreams of B, remembering what it was like when they still liked each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Yes, they are enemies now, but they didn’t used to be. Which is why A can’t help but bandage B wounds after a fight. B wakes up with bandages all over with A nowhere to be found

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A finds it difficult to do any real damage towards B even though they are enemies. A still holds too much love for them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are forced to work together again on a mission even though they hate each other for something that happened years ago when they were kids. They start to get wrapped up in the familiarity and comfort the other provides as their defenses gradually start to drop and they find themselves laughing together once again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Although they are enemies, once best friends, A can’t help but bring their prisoner (B) their favorite food and a warm blanket to sleep with

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A grows up with B and gradually falls in love with B. B ends up dating other people while A is forced to watch it all. A has started to give up that B would ever see them as anything more than a friend. A starts to date a bad guy (C) in hopes of getting over B until B realizes that this guy is no good for A and that they actually love A themselves. A gets mad and only accuses B of doing this because B was jealous of them yada yada. Eventually A realizes C is no good and finally gets with B

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B have been friends since they were children and have done everything together. They end up losing their virginity to each other and A overhears B bragging about it to his friends. A now hates B and cuts off their friendship. B must apologize and make up for their wrongs

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B and A have the same eye color, so every time they look in a mirror they can’t help but think of each other and wish for this silly fighting to stop already

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are enemies yet in the midst of the final battle A remembers their blood oath as children to never hurt one another, to always love each other. It convinces B to throw their weapon to the ground

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A is being questioned by their evil boss on whether or not they are capable of killing B despite the history they have. A insists they can do the job, that B no longer matters to them. Until the time comes, and A realizes they can’t kill the love of their life and B whisks them away to safety away from the evil corp. they worked for

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ C tells A that B is doing shady things behind A’s back. A believes C even though C was lying about it all just to ruin their friendship and have A to themselves. A starts to hate B and cuts off their friendship. Later A realizes it was all lies and gets back together with B, realizing it was B who they loved all along

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and Person B are children of two rivaling kingdoms. They were friends as children but due to parent manipulation & royal obligation they started to share that same loathing for each other as they grew up (brainwashed to believe the other was bad). Once they both grow up they realize that history doesn’t have to repeat itself and try to get over their differences. Love ensues as they start to reconnect and deconstruct past traumas together

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A = good. Person B = bad. B is bullied in school / as a child because of (1) who their parents are or (2) their powers or (3) really whatever reason, but A treats them nicely anyway when no one ever has and befriends them. Eventually B “submits” to the darkness inside them and is now against A. A must try and bring them back from the darkness with the love they shared since they were kids

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They’re in the same friend group and can never be left alone together + always trying to make the friends pick sides to whose in the right. The friends can clearly tell they love each other just refuse to acknowledge it

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A was a noble princess and B a lowly servant — she was not allowed to socialize with him any longer. When she became queen, B still hated her for abandoning him as a child

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A is a powerful masked figure that is set on destroying B. It wasn’t until later that B realizes A is their childhood friend they believed had died and is now fighting against. B can’t kill A no matter how vengeful and persistent A is

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are on opposing sides of the same war yet when B gets kidnapped by A’s team A can’t seem to forget everything they once shared. A must save B and B must get over their stubbornness if they want to make it out alive

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are two different species and their families hate each other. They became friends despite the physical and cultural differences but eventually B falls prey to their families beliefs, believing they must kill A. A has to try and reason with their childhood best friend they’ve always been in love with

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B were inseparable as kids, but B ended up getting popular in school and left A behind. They stop being friends due to social pressures and differences until B realizes they miss A. Will they ever go back to the way things were?

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A goes off to college out of state and leaves B behind. B has harbored bad feelings towards A for this even when A suddenly returns to town years later with a fianc��. B realizes they love A despite the hostility and must break off the wedding between A and C

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A believes their best friend B is dating people they don’t actually like just to feel validated / important. A confronts B about it but they start arguing instead because B doesn’t like being confronted by A and denies the accusations. A is frustrated that B has only seen them as a friend when A knows who B truly is and would never ask them to change who they are just to be loved *hope this made sense*

“How can you not see that the person who’s really right for you has been standing right in front of you your whole life? Are you that blind?!”

“… What are you talking about?”

“Me!… I’m that person. I’ve loved you since we were kids and I see you dating these people who don’t even appreciate you or even want you! I’ve always wanted you, I’ve loved you since the day we met. I’d treat you better than any of those jerks you choose to date.” (Something to this effect ykyk)

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

An underrated health and wellbeing tool is play. 

When you think about playing, you may immediately picture little children - but by definition, play describes “any activity engaged in purely for enjoyment and recreation with no definite practical purpose” and those activities stay important throughout your whole life. 

Why are those activities important? 

Play is good for your body. Intentionally doing something just for fun helps to activate the “rest and digest” mode that is necessary to recover and heal from stress. It signals that you’re safe and helps your body relieve tension. 

It’s also good for your brain. It can stimulate your imagination, visualization and critical thinking skills, which can help you build skills like resilience and adaptability. 

Play can also foster empathy and understanding of others as it can help you see things from another’s perspective. 

Playing can make you laugh, and laughter comes with a whole sleeve of health benefits, such as decreasing blood pressure and even improving your immune system! 

Playing together can strengthen relationships. Positive, fun social interactions are important for your emotional wellbeing. 

Now some of you may think “that’s all nice, but how do I even play as an adult?”. While play is a natural behavior of human beings, many adults need to re-learn how to play - it depends on your specific environment and social circles but you may feel a lot of pressure to be productive all the time and play is by its very nature not productive. So, the first step in re-learning play is to give yourself permission to just *be* instead of *do* (and that can be a huge step!). 

Some ideas on how to ease back into play: 

Think about your childhood. (Or if you can, ask a parent, sibling or childhood friend, that can be a great way to bring back memories!) What were your favorite ways to play back then? What did you love about your favorite game? Does any particular memory immediately give you that “I wish I could do that again” feeling? (You may not necessarily find anything that you want to just replicate as an adult as-is, this is just meant to kick-start your imagination!) 

Gameify everyday tasks. Try to spot as many yellow items as possible on your commute to work. Make up a silly song about laundry while putting away the laundry. Pretend to be on a cooking show while making dinner. Do what you always do, just allow yourself to be silly about it! 

Do something creative, even (and especially) if you’re not good at it. You may not think of drawing, writing etc. as playing but those are activities you can do for pure entertainment! 

Moving your body doesn’t need to be purposeful exercise (and certainly not hating yourself in the gym), it can also be playtime: Do a silly little dance to your favorite song! Tippytoe, crawl, jump, walk backward.. from your bedroom to the kitchen, just for the fun of it! 

Rethink toys. While it is fully okay for a grownup to buy, own and play with toys, and we should abolish the negative stereotypes about it (it’s creepy, it’s inherently a sign of poor mental health etc.) these stereotypes do exist and you may simply not feel comfortable. Luckily, there are a few toys that are generally considered socially acceptable for adults or are even marketed towards adults, such as board games, stress balls, adult coloring books, certain Lego sets or fan/collectors toys (like action figures). And when there are no judgy eyes watching, you may also have fun just playing with household items such as cardboard rolls! No need to go out and buy something! 

Keep in mind that play isn’t a competition to win. You can’t play wrong - that’s the beauty of it! Just let your curiosity and enthusiasm guide you. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[marypaol]

Tension in Potion-Making

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, jealously, possessive personality, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader and Draco have been friends since early childhood, and something stirs between them when asked to make Amortentia.

Note: For the wonderful

@just-another-reader1098

I don’t know why I struggled writing this, I deleted so much with the ending and re-wrote a bunch of options. I didn’t know how you wanted angst involved and I’m sorry I didn’t put as much as probably desired. I hope you enjoy it anyways and thank you so much for requesting!

Masterlist

___

The girl couldn’t remember her life before Draco, like he was a person that was meant to enter her life and guide her towards the right direction. Or he just happened to join her life story and happened to impact it so much.

Whatever the reason may be he was always there, either lingering in the back of her mind or by her side to make snarky remarks or complaints. She was used to it by now, however, having dealt with his attitude for years on end that nothing was new to her. If only she could replay their life together like a movie film she would then take the time to recognize what she truly had. She was beyond grateful for the boy, he kept her sane and whenever someone dared to bother her they would quickly realize who they were messing with.

Their friendship was a linger in memory ever since then but it didn’t ever die, nor did it go back to the way it was. They were kids, little mindless kids that didn’t know that being friends who goofed around and shoved chocolate frogs in their mouths would have such an impact on their lives.

She wouldn’t change one thing about it though, oh Merlin no, because it wouldn’t prove the development they’ve had over the years. Development meaning lingering touches and long glances but nothing strong enough to confront each other about.

That was the way she felt until one day in which she thought would be normal. She didn’t expect not only to be sharing Potions with the Gryffindors, but to be making the most powerful love Potion in existence.

“This is ridiculous.” Draco muttered when Snape informed them.

“I don’t see the purpose of this stupid Potion anyway; it’s not like I’m going to smell anything.” He snarled. “Like how does the House Cup have a scent?”

She kept in her laugh, shaking her head. “No, Draco. It’s about love and your deepest attraction… showing your deepest desire for an unknown person…I wonder who I’m going to smell.” She said, not being able to help but think of the possibilities.

Draco scoffed at the dream-like tone she was using, looking over at her from his cutting board.

“You? Smelling anyone? Oh please, I doubt someone would even smell you.”

A normal person talking to Draco would be hurt, but she was used to the teasing and banter that practically flooded from his mouth like water so instead she slapped him on the arm and watched in satisfaction when he rubbed the spot.

“I’m serious; I bet you’re curious about who you’ll smell.” She said back.

Malfoy scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard, but what she didn’t know was that he was more curious than ever. Did all his wants, besides wanting to prove to his father that he’s worthy, come to the idea of someone understanding and loving him? Was there someone already out there and he was about to find out who? Just by leaning in and taking a soft sniff of this bubbling liquid that the cauldron beheld? Yet the smallest sniff would give the strongest scent, revealing who he desired most.

Draco scoffed again to get rid of the thoughts and to prove his point further on how silly it was.

“Me, a Malfoy, wondering who I smell. Stupid and absurd, really, I tell you.” He mumbled under his breath. “I’ll stick my nose in there and smell the copper of the House Cup, that’s for sure.”

He watched as she nudged some ingredients towards him so he could cut them, rolling her eyes at his behavior.

“Really? Your deepest attraction is a cup made of copper?” She tested, scooping something into the Potion, watching as it bubbled and smoked from the addition to the mix.

Draco seemed to be scoffing a lot that day, because that’s what he did just then.

“No, take a joke. Obviously I’ll be smelling my own scent because everyone’s desire for me will be so strong this whole room will be able to smell it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. Draco scowled.

“You think it’s funny do you? The facts are funny now; every girl is drooling over me and it’s absolutely hilarious to think about.”

She shook off the laugh coming up her throat, composing herself.

“What if I don’t smell you?” She tested, watching for his reaction.

His eyes stopped on hers, looking at her face with such intensity that it made her sink into her feet a little. He eyed her up and down, silver orbs seeming to absorb her appearance.

“You better.” He said simply, but it sounded like a threat, vanishing the playful banter in the air that was previously present, replacing it with think fog and tension that surrounded itself between them.

“And why should I smell you?” She bravely asked, staring right back into his eyes. He made a chop with his knife that was harder compared to the others, staring at her harder than before.

“You’re mine, that’s why.”

Hope you liked it! 🫶🏻

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Rhaenyra x reader with incest if it hasn’t already been crossed out?

Baby teeth (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Cousins. You hate them or you love them. And Rhaenyra knows exactly how she feels about you.

Warnings: Incest. One use of Daddy.

Requested: Yes! The first one I fill, too. Here you go! I hope you enjoy this, since it’s my first time writing Rhaenyra.

There is something dangerous about the boredom of young maidens. That’s what Septa Marlow used to say. Rhaenyra never understood it properly. Not until now.

As you entered the Hall, hot in Daemon’s heels and with an expression of absolute contempt, she wondered what could possibly be your reason for coming. It was well known that you two weren’t friends. Viserys and Daemon made actual efforts to keep you apart, after a particularly nasty episode during your shared childhood.

Even at four years old, you were a nasty little thing. All the worst parts of Daemon and Rhea Royce, rolled into one. Rhaenyra had taken your favorite doll, arguing that she was a Princess and so deserved to have it. You had dug your little baby teeth into her calf so hard, she still wore the evidence of your wrath.

Back then, Rhaenyra had wailed for hours, as Viserys rubbed her back. Daemon had tried to get you to apologize, and you had just stuck out your little chin defiantly and refused to budge.

“It was mine.” You had said. Daemon, new to parenthood and not sure about how to handle you, had passed you to his wife. They had argued for hours, screaming for the whole Red Keep to hear. Daemon said your mother hadn’t raised you right. Rhea had screamed back that you had inherited his nasty nature.

If she had to choose a memory to define your personality, she would pick that afternoon. Demon child that you were, you had sat outside their room, playing with your doll. Rhaenyra never again forgot your triumphant smile.

About to become a married woman in less than two days, Rhaenyra finally understood what Septa Marlow meant about boredom of young girls. It was not achieved in an exemplary show of self reflection, no. Exempt as she was now from those silly lessons, Rhaenyra barely gave it more thought than she gave to her childhood bedtime stories.

It was from looking at you, that it started to make sense. Not because you were purity, respect, and shy subservience all incarnate, but because you weren’t. When Viserys had felt like a particularly invested parent, he used to compare you to her.

“Look at your cousin.” He would say. “Daemon tells me she is great at the harp. And she attends to the Sept daily.”

It had fueled her to be better. Because she hated you. She despised you. You had bitten her, like some sort of feral cat. You were not a Princess, but a mere Lady, yet seemed to show her in every area that you dedicated yourself to, according to Viserys.

Either Daemon had lied to him, or he had lied to her. Because did a proper lady show up to a wedding in a black and bronze dress cut in the dornish fashion? No, she did not. Yet as you walked towards the high table behind your father, Rhaenyra could not help but admire you. There was a confusing beauty in your exposed arms and collarbones, in the barest hint of a thigh that could be seen from the side when your gown moved.

It was a surprise to no one that Daemon crashed the wedding. After all, it was in his style to do so. No one bated an eyelash at it. Instead, all eyes were on you. Your gown was a statement if Rhaenyra ever saw one. House Royce stood proud today, not House Targaryen.

She wondered what Daemon thought about it. Not only were you wearing a risqué gown, but you were making a declaration. You were the daughter of Rhea Royce, and you wouldn’t be silenced. A brave stand, especially if the rumors were to be true.

Rhaenyra had heard about it, of course. Your mother’s passing and the alleged hand Daemon had had in it. You looked to be the only one looking for justice for Rhea Royce. Rhaenyra understood the feeling well. Too often, Targaryen men disregarded women in favor of advancing their ambitions.

Hadn’t Daemon done that to her in a ploy to get her off the race for the Iron Throne? Left her there, standing in the middle of a brothel, possibly to face her ruin? She betted he would have not been so happy, so easily pulled away, if it were you in that brothel. He would have burned it down and salted the earth to protect his little dragon.

You were oblivious to it, of course. But the only time that Daemon had been in agreement with Otto Hightower had been when Viserys shyly suggesting taking you as a wife. The row had been explosive, or so she had been told. One arguing that he was King and could do as he wished, Otto screaming it was giving Daemon too much power, and Daemon screaming that he was a perverted old man.

He had not seemed to care about the age difference so much in regard to her, though. Hypocrite. Yet love had a way, it appeared, of bending one’s moral compasses. Or making one grow one, in the case of Daemon.

She envied you for that, too. While Viserys had been willing to pawn her off to an old man or a child, Daemon had been insistent on finding you an age appropriate match. It was why you were still unmarried, despite being only two years younger than her.

As her father pulled a chair for you and Daemon to sit, Alicent made her own entrance, wearing a green gown. The same color Oldtown lit up in when Hightowers went to war.

“It seems she has outdone me.” You pouted, towards no one in particular. Your voice was different from what Rhaenyra remembered. Deeper and accented. You spoke in the clipped tones those in the Vale had, more proper for calling horses than noble speech. It reminded her of her mother.

“It’s my wedding, cousin.” Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at you. Why did you have to show off all the time? You came in here, looking more like a Royce than a Targaryen and had to flaunt it in everyone's faces. “Neither of you are supposed to outdone me.”

“Girls, girls.” Her father placated, placing a hand on her arm. Rhaenyra glared. You glared at her, right back. “You both look gorgeous tonight. No need to fight.”

“Ah, right. How could I possibly forget?” You whispered, right back. “It’s all about Princess Rhaenyra tonight. And every other night. With my father, with yours…” You trailed off, bitterly. Daemon smiled at Viserys, tense. No one wanted the reminder of what had happened between Rhaenyra and him.

The Velaryons, meanwhile, look between the attendants with polite masks. But Rhaenyra can tell Rhaenys is just dying to say something. She is not very fond of her and your comment has given her the ammunition she needed.

Alicent tries to interject, perhaps redirect the conversation, but Rhaenyra is not listening. All she can see are your defiant eyes.

If you wanted to play, it was fine by her. Rhenyra was more than willing to go a few rounds. Her ego was bruised enough that she doubted anything you could say would actually hurt her. But it didn’t mean she had to tolerate your disrespect laying down.

“Dearest cousin, I notice you growing a bit thick on the hips. Tell me, have you traded the dragon for the horse?”

Lyonel Strong nearly spits out his wine. You give him a sweet smile and then say something that freezes both Rhaenyra and Alicent.

“Oh, not so often as you do. I heard you went riding with your white cloak. Where is he? I thought he might appreciate my dress tonight.”

Rhaenyra sees red. It’s the only explanation because she is dreadfully rude. She throws you the half of a pomegranate, which you gracefully catch.

Viserys laughs awkwardly.

“I think we should begin the feast. The Lady Targaryen is looking famished.”

“Of course.” Daemon immediately caught on, following his brother’s lie. Rhaenyra wanted to slap him. Was it him, who had slipped that piece of gossip to you? “How considerate of my niece for noticing.”

“She has grown into a fine flower. Although not without thorns.” Viserys whispers to Daemon, much to Rhaenyra’s disgust. It’s evident that he is talking about you. Was it only the distance from court, what kept you from taking Alicent’s place? Would her father have married you if Daemon had offered you?

After all, you have all his worst qualities. After nearly tangling in the sheets of the man, Rhaenyra is not afraid to admit it.

As if taunting her, you flash her a feral little grin. Pearly teeth on full display, you bite savagely into the pomegranate. Rhaenyra’s calf throbs in sympathy.

Her eyes are fixated only on you. She ignores Laenor’s attempt at making conversation. There is a drop of red juice gathering on your lower lip. There is a sudden urge to rub her thumb over it. Of pinching the appendix with her teeth and biting until she draws blood, all rabid hound.

Cousins. You hate them, or you love them, there is no middle point. The drop slips lower, towards your chin. You have the manners of a peasant, smearing the juices all over your face. Messy girl.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask a very flustered Corlys Velaryon, licking your lips. Daemon tuts in disapproval, but does nothing. Rhaenys looks on the verge of slapping you, but most men in the hall seem to enjoy the display. Even righteous Criston Cole looks your way for a second.

A droplet of juice travels down, down, down, between your collarbones and towards the valley of your tits. She thinks of biting down the soft hollow of your throat and not letting go until you were sweet. “Cousin, please.” Pretty eyes filled with tears, mouth agape. She can see it so clearly… Blood on your throat, all over that pretty little dornish number… Rhaenyra blinks. A trick of the light, surely. For a second, it looked like you actually were covered in blood.

“Daughter.” Daemon says, and tenderly cleans your lips with a napkin. His hands linger a little too long on your throat. Rhaenyra doesn’t know whether he wants to strangle you or is genuinely trying to clean you up and preventing yourself from making a spectacle. She understands both urges. “Please. Why don’t you go greet your other cousins?”

You give him a sultry look, from beneath your lashes. Another pout.

“Oh, Daddy…” You purr, and it’s clearly not directed at him, but to the man your eyes are fixated on. Corlys Velaryon, yet again shifting uncomfortably on his seat. Daemon clenches his fist. Her father clears her throat and gives Rhaenyra a pointed look. Get her out here, his eyes seem to say. Before Daemon punches your future father-in-law and ruins your wedding. “You are no fun.”

“Cousin.” Rhaenyra says, all high and airy. In truth, she too wants these men to stop looking at you. You are hers. Disrespectful fools, can’t they see you already claimed her? “Care for a dance?”

“Of course, Princess. Thought you never ask.” And you get up, insolent little brat that you are, and take her hand. Was it all a ploy? Were you flirting with Corlys Velaryon only to get her alone?

Insufferable brat, that you are. Of course you were.

She wonders, sometimes, what is it, that you want. You don’t care for her. You are as much of a spoiled princess as she is, yet you refuse to see it. Embracing the Royce side of your heritage favored your delusions of normalcy. Learning to hawk and hunt, riding as well as any man would. You have a dragon, of course, but it wears the Royce’s sigil proudly on its neck, and not one of the Targaryen collars.

What is it that you want? Rebel against Daemon? You resent him, surely. For leaving when you were a mere girl, and showing up to the Vale when you are a woman grown, expecting you to bend to his will. Rhaenyra can understand that. She, too, has been babied by Targaryen men. Not even Daemon, despite his lust, sees her as a woman.

It must make for an interesting dynamic. You are headstrong. So it’s Daemon. In your eyes, he abandoned you and your mother to go fight his little war and then tried to get his marriage annulled, making you a bastard, all in a ploy to bed his niece and take the throne. Said niece is only two years your senior and childhood nemesis.

She has heard you are soon to be married, but not yet to whom. Her father leans towards marrying you to Harwin Strong, son of his Hand. A way to keep Daemon under control. The match is slightly more age appropriate. They had yet to decide the problems of inheritance, though.

Rhaenyra doubts Harwin will want you, a dark, bad behaved thing who is always on edge. She has caught him looking at her more than a few times, and you are nothing alike. Oil and water. Well, more like silver and bronze.

As you walk together towards the makeshift dance floor, hand in hand, the crowd parts for you. Rhaenyra lifts her head, proudly. The music that is playing is fit for a couple’s dance, no doubt playing in hopes of luring her and Laenor to dance.

It will not be happening today, it seems. Because Rhaenyra places you in the line along with the women, taking her place among the men. Your hands feel warm in Rhaenyra’s hands, and she smiles. A true Targaryen always runs hot.

You smile back. Rhaenyra circles you, almost predatory. She drinks you in. The untamed spirit. The bewitching eyes. The bristles of teenage rebellion you have yet to shed.

The best parts of Daemon. What had pulled her in. Yet, not the same. Not at all.

You circle back, eyes narrowed. At the high table, your fathers watch. Both of them are pleased by what seems to be the end of the hostilities. They have no idea how you vex Rhaenyra, with those enchanting eyes of yours. How much she wants to find out what's inside that pretty skull, what makes you tick.

Then, the unexpected. As Rhaenyra extends her hand, about to make you twirl, you twirl her instead. Taking the lead from her. You twirl her, and as she comes out of it, it turns into a battle for dominance again. Rhaenyra starts doing the figures for the male partner a little more aggressively, clapping near your ear and forcing you to move to her will.

You struggle, at first. Then you give in. Sweet little cousin that you are, submitting to your Princess and future Queen. Yet, your smile is as ferocious as ever, shiny teeth just begging to sink into her and pull. Feral. As always.

The dance finishes with the two of you standing close, so close Rhaenyra can count every one of your lashes. Your chest rises and falls, lifting your tits tantalizingly. She thinks of licking the sweat from the valley between them, of biting the soft flesh. Of your beautiful little gasps.

Would your eyes light up in bed the same way hers do? After all, Viserys and Daemon are brothers. Both of you share some subtle similarities. Rhaenyra wonders if laying you down on her bed might be like having sex with her reflection. A distorted one, perhaps.

You stand in black, while she does it in white.

“We shouldn't.” Your voice breaks the spell. Despite your eyes constantly darting towards her lips, which Rhaenyra cannot help but lick, you seem spooked. She brushes a hand against your cheek, softly. Tilting your head just so to kiss you. “This is wrong.” You say, expression delightfully tortured. No matter your protests, you close your eyes, leaning into her.

She is so close to breaking you.

“You are a Targaryen.” It's the wrong thing to say. You pull away from her touch, frowning.

“And you are about to get married.”

“Aegon the Conqueror had two wives.” Rhaenyra presses. She is willing if it means having you. If your ancestor married sisters, why can't Laenor marry cousins?

“Does Laenor look to you like a man who could handle a wife, much less two?” You smile, showing her your canines in a bitter gesture. “My father seduces whores with that same line. Get your own.”

Joyfully, you go, right into Ser Harwin's arms. You start dancing with him. You don't look as good as you did when dancing with her. Your blush and your little giggles seem to put the man under a trance. Rhaenyra scowls. So much for wanting her. Good gods, were his affections so fickle? Were yours?

Wanting entertainment for the night, she glances at Daemon. Ugh. Dancing with that girl, Laena. Men. Always led by their cocks.

She doesn't want Daemon. She is not sure what she wants, in truth. Does she want you because you are so much like him? Or did she want him because he reminded her of you?

What was first, the dragon or the egg?

Rhaenyra is the one with fickle affections, much to her horror. As she stands in the middle of the dance floor, she feels adrift at the realization she has a type. Targaryens. Rhaenyra likes you, defiant little grins and all. But what really warms her blood is the thought of you and her being similar.

Is that what Daemon felt when looking at her? This deep connection, the urge to grab you and pull you away from Ser Harwin's arms, whose hands are straying lower and lower down your back. And you are letting him. You are letting him touch you, and sure, he is handsome. But you are a Princess, even if not in title. You are hers, as much Daemon is Viserys's.

Rhaenyra knows you want her. How could you not, when you looked at her with those eyes? As your own face crept closer and closer, it was clear Rhaenyra was not the only one who wanted that kiss. You had played along.

Now she is dancing with Laenor, making a pretty show. Your eyes track her every movement, despite being in the arms of your soon-to-be fiancé.

Everything is as it is supposed to be. You grin at Harwin, but Rhaenyra knows it lacks your usual strength. You are not at ease with the man and it shows. Oh, what wouldn't she do to pluck you from his arms and dance with you again.

Perhaps there is a way. Rhaenyra hides her smirk, passing it off as a smile to Laenor. As soon as the dance ends, she rushes to your side.

“Dearest cousin, you must stay with us for some weeks.” She says, interrupting you and Harwin. The man looks vaguely amused, a flicker of interest in his dark eyes. “The wedding has me thinking about our mothers, and how soon such a joyous occasion might come for you too.”

“Hm.” You answer, raising your eyebrows. The mention of your mother is a low thing to do, but it's the truth. Look at you, a maiden ripe for the taking. Marriage alliances, enviable prospects, yet motherless.

“I was thinking, as my marriage progresses, I could hope to be of guidance, just as Queen Alicent has been for me.”

“Guidance?” You ask, frowning. Maybe Rhaenyra had laid it a bit thick. She must redirect, less you spook again.

“There is much to be learned about marriage, of course. And it's my duty as the eldest cousin to prepare you for it.”

Ser Harwin's eyebrows raise. You give her your signature feral little grin. She wonders what those teeth will feel like again on her skin. Hesitantly, you place your arm on hers and allow her to pull you off the dance floor.

If you had yet to know or not the joys of the marital bed was no matter. The excuse was as good as any for getting you to stay. Rhaenyra would have to thank Daemon for that one.

[sleepingdeath-light]

home again ; yandere!wally darling

requested by ; anonymous (09/05/23)

word count ; 2031

content ; platonic yanderes, memory loss (the puppets all had their memories forcibly wiped), references to child/teen reader, obsessive protectiveness, author’s first time writing something platonic so… yeah

note ; i haven’t written anything like this before (sfw yandere stuff) so apologies if it seems a tad off. similarly i’m still adjusting to writing wally’s character in terms of dialogue and such, so that may also seem a smidge ooc.

fandom ; welcome home

pairing ; platonic wally darling x gender neutral!reader

read also on ; ao3

It was a beautifully melancholy evening: the stars and moon were obscured with thick, grey clouds that loomed overhead like ragged old curtains; the air was thick with dust and pollen that clung to your skin and clothes like a man hanging onto the edge of a steep cliff, digging their claws in and holding on with all the relentless might you’d come to hate; your room was only dimly illuminated by the pale blue light emanating from your monitor, the low hum of the vents the only sound to compliment the clicking of keys and the tapping of the mouse. Quiet, drab and dull; how very typical of spring.

But at the very least it gave you all the excuse you needed to sit behind a screen and doomscroll. Tired eyes skimming over articles and activists decrying the latest tragedy, thousands of crabs in the metaphorical bucket of social media all fighting for the attention of bystanders — only taking pause when you came across something all too familiar, yet at the same time entirely new.

‘Does anyone else remember Welcome Home? It was pretty popular when it aired back in the 70s and my friends and I are trying to create a complete archive for it’ — the caption read. Below it was a highlighted link and a picture that had been burned into your brain since childhood: bright swatches of paint adorning every surface, all seeing eyes as big as can be, and in front of it, that permanent smile carved into yellow felt. Wally Darling and Home, you remembered them both clearly enough — clearer than you’d have liked, even.

It had been decades since you’d actively thought back on Welcome Home, on your brief stint in stardom, and frankly you’d have rather it’d been kept that way. You still held a bit of a grudge over getting axed: ‘too mature’, yeah right! Every kid loves astrology and nobody is too old to talk about their feelings… you were only 14 for crying out loud! Too mature, your ass.

But perhaps, you reasoned, it wouldn’t be too bad to take a quick trip down memory lane. Sure you’d loved the show when it aired, but you stopped watching after your section was cut, so maybe it would be cool to see what changed in the interim — and, either way, your experiences would probably be helpful to the archivists. So no harm, no foul.

————

The site was easy enough to navigate but man you didn’t expect to get so emotional when you went looking through the recovered art. They looked exactly the same as you remembered, all of them — which is kind of silly to think about since puppets and tv show characters in general tend not to change since, well, they were meant to stay consistent. Frank was always going to look terribly stern, and Julie was always going to come onto scene with a new fabulous hairdo, and Eddie was always going to trip over his own feet on his rounds, and Wally was always going to open and close each episode with a nod to the audience. These things were staples of the characters and the show’s structure so of course they’d be the same.

But, still, you somehow felt like they should have changed in your absence. A small part of your mind, an irrational part surely, crying out that they were alive and that living things were made to change — which was silly. And, frankly, a little embarrassing that you’d even had that thought at all.

So you pushed that idea to the very back of your mind where it belonged and continued to scroll through the various pages of the website. Art from official books (you were sure you even owned the ‘ask Wally’ type book and that it was still at your parents’ place), merchandise like pop up figures (the sort that were found only in cereal boxes and magazines), promotional posters and even one piece from your short tenure on the show. You remembered posing for that photograph, being told to smile and to wrap your arms around Eddie and Wally — but for some reason you couldn’t quite recall what their puppeteers were called.

Or if they even had any puppeteers in the first place.

No. That can’t be right. They were puppets, characters, they had to have someone controlling and voicing them — but none of the promotional art nor your memories supported that basic truth. It didn’t make sense.

None of it made sense. This was why you’d tried to forget that show so desperately after you left. It messed with your head far too much to be worth the effort so why bother burning out over questions that could be explained by a faulty memory.

A memory that could, in picture perfect detail, recall the route from Howdy’s store to Home as clear as crystal — as if it were your own route to-and-from primary school. A memory that could replay patchy conversations between Wally and Julie, bittersweet bickering over hairspray and hairpins that you could only recall in pieces, but that still rang clearly as if you were thinking of childhood friends. A memory that was imprinted with the feeling of warm felt embraces and puffs of warm air from stencil cut mouths that would have been impossible if they weren’t alive. Moving eyes, small bodies, freely walking, freely talking — alive and well and clear as day in your mind as normally as recalling your parents arguing over a cup of freshly brewed coffee on the mornings of each shoot.

The distinctly strong smell of the synthetic hairspray Wally used that would hang around him and mixed with the scent of oil paint like a cologne — that burned your nose if you hung around too close to him in the early morning. The sheer joy of Howdy picking you up and tossing you in the air as a congratulations for your first scene done well — caterpillar fuzz that stuck to your clothes for days, as strong as velcro. The way you and Julie squealed when Barnaby shook back and forth and sent droplets of muddy water raining down on you and on her freshly done up hair — and the joke that followed her exasperated tirade as you, through giggles, explained frustration to the audience through a camera they seemed to not be able to see.

Memories that kept unearthing themselves the deeper you went into the site, eventually culminating with you tearing up at the sight of old friends you’d been forced to leave behind. Silly, perhaps, but you recall telling the audience that it was healthy to cry and to let it all go — so at least your teenage self would be proud of your emotional vulnerability.

After a good hour of this, and more than in need of a break, you finally clicked on the attached message board and typed up a simple few sentences. A greeting and a farewell all in one before you closed down your computer and went to bed.

‘I used to have a segment on Welcome Home when I was a kid. I was meant to do astrology and emotions, before I got cut for being too old lol. This brought back so many memories. Thank you, all.’

————

Wally hadn’t meant to linger — really, he hadn’t — but there had been something oddly familiar about his latest visitor that he couldn’t quite place. Even from behind the screen he was trapped within, even as he watched their message load in, he could tell that they were different. It was their eyes, those tearful knowing eyes — he was sure he’d seen them before in that somewhere different, somewhere brighter, that came before the end he and his neighbours were trapped in.

When he saw their eyes he saw himself, a twisted altered reflection of himself that was filled to bursting with the warmth and awareness that he was created to hold within himself. A child’s eyes in the form of someone who he didn’t know yet he knew he must have once. A lingering, niggling feeling in the back of his skull, like fingertips brushing and scratching and digging into his fabric brain — rearranging and scouring and destroying and reaching for something that he couldn’t quite find.

He winced and squinted and stared through the screen to no avail, tilting his head and watching them as they flicked from screen to screen to screen desperate for a sign that he could use to place this familiar stranger. Unable to do so until finally — finally — their note came through and he was able to read the short greeting they’d left behind.

Then, and only then, did those forbidden memories come flooding back. A formidable tidal wave, a whirling rapid, of bright lights and experiences and conversations that had been torn from him and shredded in the writer’s room of their long gone creators.

He knew you, he’d always known you; the child too old for their youth that visited their neighbourhood in the beginning. Who always wore a beaming smile and treated them all with a grace beyond their years, spreading kindness and joy to his friends and to the audience only the two of you knew about. Who was far taller than his measly 12 apples of verticality but who never made him feel small. Who spoke eagerly of the constellations and painted the most wonderful pictures of stars and moons and planets far beyond their reach that he did his best to capture in his paintings. Who was only 14 but felt more like an adult than he did sometimes — he, who was crafted and sewn without a childhood — but who wasn’t above play and foley.

The child who was the absolute most; his favourite transient neighbour. All of their’s, actually.

How could he possibly have forgotten you?

You with your broad toothy grins, and your warm eyes that shone brighter than the stars you loved, and your arms that were big enough to carry even more apples than he could have ever dreamed of. You, who he promised to protect and keep away from the horrors of the world, theirs and your own. You, who never turned down a favour or plea from his neighbours.

You. Just you.

Wonderful, lovable, unforgettable you. His child of flesh, not felt, but he loved you all the same.

And he didn’t get to see you grow up, because his creators deemed you unbefitting of their world and cut you from their memories as ruthlessly as they’d cut your segments from their show. Welcome Home didn’t feel very much like a home after that — even if they didn’t quite recall what was missing.

Wally didn’t even want to think about all of the horrors and harms you’d faced throughout the years you’d been apart — he could see the wear hanging heavily in the downwards quirk of your lips and the dampened glint in your eye. He knew he’d sooner kill someone than let them hurt you, he’d threatened it plenty alongside Howdy and Eddie and Frank — they all loved you as dearly as him, once.

But in his current predicament he couldn’t do much to protect you. Couldn’t coddle you, couldn’t warm you, couldn’t sooth you with those sweets you used to love (if you even loved them anymore, it had clearly been quite some time), couldn’t do anything to help. He couldn’t even communicate with you, to apologise, to tell you he still loved you and that you were still welcome in their neighbourhood.

So he did the only thing he could; he drew you a picture. A silly little simplistic drawing, scratchy and crude, depicting a strong memory he had of you. The two of you, hand in hand, with your arms overflowing with apples you’d managed to steal from Howdy (oh how he missed such trivial things) — he hoped you remembered these moments as fondly as he did. Then, to the illustration, he attached a small message, a plea just for you, before settling back down behind the screen and hoping — praying — that you’d come back.

‘I’m sorry for forgetting you, friend, please come home’

[canes-fidus]

RFA with an MC with DID pt1 Jumin

Literally most DID "rep" is omg evil killer alter it's so shitty, so here's something that's actually accurate. Split into parts because it’s going to be too long if I do everyone in one go :)

💜Jumin

*He always noticed something was off.

*You always seemed to be so forgetful and easily lost track of time.

*He was so confused when your handwriting would be different, or that your tone of voice, the pitch, accent, the slightest of things would be different. He assumed it was some silly joke from you.

*Hell, sometimes you'd even write perfectly with your non dominant hand! Surely you just had some odd habits, right?

*You were always secretive about your childhood, and he respected that. Truth be told, you just couldn't remember it no matter how hard you tried. The good, the bad, it was all gone, as if the memory itself never existed.

*It wasn't until you couldn't remember his name that he finally had enough and sent you to see a mental health specialist.

*Jumin explained all of what you've been going through, the memory loss, the dissociation, the change in personality, how you just seemed out of the ordinary.

*He never expected nothing more than you being out of it, but he wanted to make sure.

*When the specialist said it sounded like dissociative identity disorder his heart shattered into a million pieces.

*His love...had gone through something so terrible to the point her brain had to create multiple parts of herself to survive?

*He couldn't help but shake in anger a bit. He wanted to do everything in his power to find out who did something so horrific.

*He knew despite only being a child at that time as well, there was nothing he could do, and yet, he felt like there was more he could've done. He felt nothing but guilt, almost as if he could've prevented such a horrible beginning of your life.

*Childhood is supposed to be filled with nothing but love and care...and yet you got just the opposite.

*He's happy you can't remember. He never wishes for you to ever relive that ever again.

*He's on edge about your alters fronting, but he learns to accept it knowing it's all a part of you and exist to protect his beloved.

*He takes some time off work to help you settle in with the reality of such a debilitating disorder.

*He does everything he can to be by your side, and give you his unlimited love, even if some things don't make sense to him, what matters most is that he's trying his hardest.

*With his help you slowly recover and merge back into the one piece you were always meant to be from the start.

[real-total-drama-takes]

I understand the Gwen and Courtney ship now- I am so sorry lesbians- I am sorry I didn't see it or compute it right away- I had a conversation with my cousin who is the Gwuncan shipper we both agree the Gwen and Courtney ship very cute, very angsty, and full yearning of long centuries like these women be queer months ago-

I kept refusing to admit I was gay or queer for years even months ago then I had talk allowed about the Gwourtney ship with my favorite cousin of all time and I realized I was like oh- oh- OH!!!

OH FUCK- A BITCH BE GAY- ME- I UNDERSTAND NOW...

I think it's more happy little accident sometimes shipping two funny little cartoons and talking about it make you realize it ok to be gay or more!

This was in my stomach for months- felt not gay enough or normal enough ever because I thought lesbians were nature and my family was like no-no- no don't do that.

It's my favorite word honestly in Spanish now I am realizing they limited me to believe in something they were uncomfortable with me "being" or anyone around me being.

I try to stand up more not only for lesbians in my life but in general- sometimes we can change the subject when someone is on purpose transphobic or more in life. Like if you don't know how to use pronouns out the respect least have the human decency to use their name, okay?

I don't care if their trans, don't say that in general around me because you are dehumanizing them, and I am losing respect in the humanity I thought you had then walk away.

Or go I feel like you don't value me because your homophobic remarks so from now on when you don't respect my sexuality or tend to demonize me for not being straight like you wanted, I am now on creating space for me to grow without you, I don't want leave you out my life but I think it's best for both us to part ways for now for my feelings and safety.

Sometimes I believe we need to have moments with each other to be "real" aka sometimes talk to each other with respect even if we don't see each other often in the fandom like I don't think Gwuncan romanticize ship is good for me or my soul but I was make seem I don't care for it at all back then and only hated them for the said ship.

I value the ships now a bit more- for some reason if I love you and it meant nothing to me but it brings you value in your life it brings value to me... it means the world to me.

I mean we can still hate things but like don't take on your fellow man? Write it out in a shitty fanfic like I do or I don't know just work through the emotions.

I felt guilt because I tend shit on Gwuncan and didn't under Gwourtney because I honestly didn't see the potient of it happening years ago but now I see it's value.

It's value to someone I love it means the world to me and for her it brought her sense peace, reminder of our childhood, and loving memories silly childish hatred of Duncan but it was ability to know it was child crush and trying to act like these silly dumb cartoons as children...

Then crying over Gwen or Courtney never winning because here in America- I believe we got the endings of only the men winning sadly or made seemed Courtney was just straight up a hater for life- we didn't all full details over here!

Anyway- I am sorry dear lesbians and trans people due to my past and being raised in hate- it helps me a lot being in this fandom or reading your post/ fanfiction to be more comfortable in life in general.

I think I like girls now- well, being comfort with liking them in general without being so hard on myself or them- like slowly okay to leave the closet now even though I am hella scared- I am willing to risk my "spot" in the family or whatever they told me growing up~

But you go girls! Be gay or what not! Conquer the steam/STEM CAREERS~

WORLD WILL BEND TO YOUR KNEES LOL

oH YEAH BASICALLY you write your fanfics no matter what or how silly it is- it's important someone out there!

Be fluffy or horror filled if you need it for the plot too

Also, I need work on writing the TD girls and ladies better like more in general- she can live without a man! I swear she can, but I crave romance and stupid rom-coms I grew up with!

[oceanlipgloss]

PIE CHART

MINHYEOK.

+ warnings: implicit mentions of sex, light angst, light curse words.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns, hints of female mc’s official appearance.

Childhood friends, childhood friends, childhood friends.

Was sort of like watching some silly drama progress, except this one seemed to be all about angels, devils, and two childhood friends staying that way till the very end.

Eye candy, women thought. They were mostly college girls with their faded jeans and their long hair that glimmered just over their bubble butts.

A fair slice of the pie chart found the idea of being with him appealing, even if only for a day, or one night or two. Because, you know, the usual—pretty face, nice body, them not really bothering to look past those and into his personality, that kind of thing.

It's how their brains function. Blame them, or blame something else, whatever. It didn't really matter. The truth is, chemicals are weird. Or is it upbringing?

But wow, for once they didn't like the wrong guy, didn't crush over another loser. Kinda lucky. They were actually safe this time. Just not from rejection. Because sure, his mind may have been dirty, but those thoughts were reserved for one person only.

Dirty-minded...they would have liked that: an  innocent-looking, composed guy, hiding some freaky shit in his mind.

Well, he was a college student, and most of that population is like that or close to it, thinking about cheeky things and sex. There are extremely rare—opposite—exceptions, but it's kind of hard to expect something else. The others cut a pretty big portion of the pie chart.

Just like the girls who gushed about him.

Yeah, yeah, so what? He just liked the girl that knew him as her childhood friend, but he wanted way more than that—even when she didn't see in him what the lovestruck kids with their sadistic crushes did: perfect soulmate, unapproachable crush, sugar rush.

He thought she was cute, dammit. He liked her long purple hair and soft pale skin. He also knew she was really lewd, but had long ago accepted that aspect of her too.

He really, really wished that when she thought about him, suddenly her world would flush pink; and then, they would do more than a few naughty things.

But...she had seen—was still seeing—much better men, right?

He missed her.

Each time, he told her to come back to him in the end, and that's what she planned, but for platonic attachments and reasons entirely different.

He thought that maybe they would forever live with the sweet memories of childhood and awkward photographs of adolesence. He thought that maybe they're not meant to take that old friendship to the next level.

Sadness slapped him in the face, punched him in the heart. He thought that her percentage was meagre, thin, a sliver in the admirers' pie chart.

+note: Minhyeok's moment of insecurity was the inspiration for this one. And though I'm not fond of him, I don't particularly dislike him either—the neutral part of the spectrum—but the idea already popped into existence, so I thought "meh, whatever, I'll write it." This will definitely be the last fic I write about him, however lol

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[anawkwardlady]

Glimpses of love found inside nightmares.

Hi. Sorry for the other confusing rambling. It might happen again. (Spoilers EP3 and mentions of EP8)

Within the cold depictions of characters relationships (especially between the Ushiromiya siblings) we're given hints love is/was hiding somewhere. And I really like that it sometimes happen during the worst moments.

Until this scene we got almost to no exemple of Eva and Rosa ever getting along during Rosa's childhood. Rosa's memories are mostly painted by the trauma of Eva's (and her other siblings) abuse. If it wasn't for the gruesome execution and EVA sadistic tendencies, we would have never know about this.

So there was a time when Rosa had opened up to Eva about her little girl dreams and whims and they bonded over wanting to become witches. She, at some points, was safe enough around her to share those desires and Eva was, at some point, loving enough to listen. Ironically we're so distracted by the display of violence we don't even really cling to this. Rosa cannot properly process it nor respond either. Its almost as if the illusion of the witch served to conceal the conflicting feelings the sisters cannot express to each other now due to the amount of damage that was already done during those years.

And when we strip it even more we learn Eva opened up in some ways to little Rosa about the struggles she grew up with. A feeling of being powerless and being meant for more than the role attributed to her. They apparently both felt this way. And it brings us to the question : did that actually happen? Or is EVA putting her words and thoughts in her little sister's mouth?

Let's keep in mind that 1) Its a fantasy scene 2)Eva and Rosa were never children together. So already when EVA says "when we were small" she is either inventing or romanticizing those memories. After all, is theres a time when they were small together, that time also soothe the darker parts, one where the abuse of an adult to a child becomes big and little sister bickering.

Would Rosa share those dreams and have those thoughts THAT young? Would Eva open up to Rosa in any way once the hostility started to poison their relationship? Would Eva even be the type to play along with her stupid little sister dreams? Actually play with her sister? (when we know Rosa wasn't even allowed to play with her own toys without it getting destroyed)

In my opinion theres probably some truth to which point we will never know.

But at best : it really did happen, the timeline is just a blur. At worst : Eva is sharing regrets on the relationship they had and fantasizes about how it could have been. It low key reminds me of Eva and Ange's relationship in Episode 8 where Eva is being extremely affectionate showing her the motherly version of her that wasn't distorted by grief, that wanted a daughter. In Episode 8, the gameboard is made to show and exaggerate everyone's good parts. Episode 3 doesn't hold that kind of space. And I have to say, reading this scene and paying attention to those details reinforced the horror and cruelty EVA is displaying here for me. Proving Rosa right on her insecurities, she cannot trust anyone with her silly dreams and be vulnerable, it turned against her all over again.

To finish, something to note if how well Eva remembers those anecdotes very well while pointing out that Rosa probably doesn't. It seems like it was important to let Rosa know Eva was a good sister once. However since Eva cannot tell her, EVA will. And witches never simply write "I love you" in a piece of paper.

[bi-bard]

Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons, But Always Keep 'em on a Leash - Dream of the Endless Imagine [The Sandman]

Title: Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons, But Always Keep 'em on a Leash

Pairing: Dream of the Endless X Reader

Based On: Arsonist's Lullabye

Word Count: 1,889 words

Warning(s): physical pain

Summary: (Y/n) has always been able to see and hear the dreams of other people. At first, they felt tortured by such a gift. However, when they catch the attention of the ruler of the dream realm, a new connection is made and relief is finally offered.

Author's Note: This one feels a bit like a stretch, but oh well.

HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

--------------------

I remember when I first heard the whispers of a dream that was not my own.

Well, the first time after I was able to create lasting memories.

I was five. I was lying on the couch with my mom while we watched some silly movie that I never did remember the name of.

And then, the whisper. Quiet. It almost tickled my brain. I looked at my mom. She wasn't speaking, but I could hear the mumbling.

It was in another language. At my age, I couldn't even tell one word from another, never mind ever know how to place it. I looked to my mom again. I asked her why one of the women in the movie was talking so funny. She asked what I meant, I explained, and she was confused.

It took three occurrences of me asking why there were "funny voices" on the TV for my parents to sit down and talk.

I spent a few years going from doctor to doctor. Everything was fine. Well, that's what the doctors said. My parents weren't convinced.

I spent a lot of my childhood and teenage years in my room. I didn't like getting questioned. It was always about what I was doing or what I heard.

There was a while when I thought maybe I had a purpose.

Like I was meant to help people somehow. I gave up on that dream when I realized that I couldn't figure out who anyone was, so I couldn't help them.

I waited.

I spent forever coping and trying to hide from whatever was in my head.

There were days when I would barely hear anything. And there were days when the voices were so loud that I thought that I was going to lose my mind.

I was never able to stop it.

I stopped trying at about 20 years old.

I just... dealt with it. No purpose for it or way to stop it. All I could do was survive with it.

That didn't change until many years later.

I didn't fully understand where I was. I didn't know about the dream realm being its own plain of existence. But I found myself walking into some large throne room. It felt like I needed to be there. Like it was the right place for me to be.

"Hello?"

My voice echoed against the stone walls. I looked up at the ceiling. It was a moving image of space. Stars and swirling colors. Beautiful.

"Excuse me?"

I jumped when a voice pulled me out of my thoughts. There was a woman standing off to the side. I took a deep breath.

"Who are you," she asked.

"(Y/n)," I said. "And you?"

"Lucienne," she replied.

"Hi," I waved awkwardly. "Sorry, I don't... I don't really know where I am."

"You don't know?"

"No," I forced a chuckle. "I just... It felt like I was supposed to be here."

"I brought them here," another voice spoke up. We both looked to the stairs at the end of the room. "I apologize for how long it took for me to do so."

"That doesn't change that I don't know where I am or who you are."

A grin teased the edge of his lips as he walked down the stairs to meet me. "My name is Morpheus. I am the ruler of this realm."

"And this realm is..."

"The realm of the dreaming."

I laughed. I couldn't really help it. A man looked me in the eye and told me that I was in the realm of the dreaming, and he was in charge. It was hard to believe.

Both of them furrowed their eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, but... you weren't expecting me to believe that the first time you said it, were you?"

"I have yet to have many people question me."

I slowly nodded. "Well, why did you... bring me here?"

"Your power," he said. "You can hear the dreams of other people."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tensed a bit. My parents had been firm in the belief that I shouldn't tell anyone about my gift.

"Is that so," he asked.

I didn't respond.

He stepped closer to me. I kept my eyes fixed on his. I refused to offer any indication of fear.

His hands moved up. He stopped them just next to my temples.

"May I?"

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I believe it may help you."

I gave him a skeptical look before hesitantly nodding. What was it going to hurt?

His middle and index fingers touched my temples. My eyes closed for a moment as the voices in my mind slowly faded to silence.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again.

"What did you do," I asked.

"Offered a temporary solution," Morpheus explained. "They will return when you leave here."

I slowly nodded again. I was starting to believe what he had told me before.

"It must have been so loud," he continued.

"Sometimes," I shrugged. "I... I never thought I'd experience silence like this."

"I am sorry that I did not intervene sooner."

"Why... Why did you?"

"I want to help you control this gift on your own. It will allow you to find peace by yourself."

"You could do that?"

"I hope so."

I grinned at him. "Okay."

I spent the next few weeks in that very room.

It was strange to think about how I was spending my nights in some other world trying to use some power that had haunted me for so long. Not to mention that those nights were spent with the ruler of that other world.

I had lied to my mom about it. She had asked about if anyone had found out and I shook my head and said no. I hated nothing more than the guilt twisting in my chest, but I didn't know how to explain it without her thinking that it was a new symptom.

Regardless of my guilt or how strange the situation was, it was working.

It was getting better. I was able to spend time in beautiful silence without Morpheus's interference. The first day that it happened, I almost cried. I had never known peace like that.

I remember how tightly I hugged Morpheus when it happened. He chuckled as I did. It was a huge milestone.

I was hopeful. I was finally taking steps forward that I didn't think were possible. It was a miracle.

Maybe my hope was why it went wrong.

It was easier to believe that I was to blame. Because if I wasn't to blame, then who was? I would rather know who to target my resentment and anger at than accept that some things are entirely out of my control.

No. I could never accept that some other entity with no connection to me would ever torment me in the same way I was capable of tormenting myself.

I had been walking home from work. I had just gotten through my door. And then, it was like a tidal taking down the wall meant to keep it from flooding the town.

Like drums. Slowly building. Voices crept up on me, louder and louder. I tried to ignore it. I tried to control it. I couldn't. It was a choir of screaming people. Wants and needs and silly dreams all overtook every part of my mind.

I remember the pain in my head growing. A dull ache turned into pounding. It was overwhelming. The tears welled in my eyes as a sob tore through my throat. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to beg for help.

My vision started to blur. Black dots filled the space that tears didn't.

I stumbled to the couch, putting my hand out to find the cushion before my vision went entirely dark and I fell onto it.

I collapsed on the floor of the throne room as soon as my mind escaped the waking world. The hard stone made my knees ache, but my focus couldn't even acknowledge that feeling. I let out a sob as I tried to cover my ears. It didn't work.

"(Y/n)..."

I could barely hear Morpheus's voice over the growing chorus. My nails dug into my skin as I felt my head pounding.

Another sob escaped me. The walls of the throne room shook with my pained cries. Morpheus didn't pause at the disturbance to his realm.

He knelt in front of me.

"Please, make it stop," I begged. I wanted to shout over the voices, but nothing escaped me other than some broken whisper. "Please."

Morpheus's hands touched mine. He gently guided my hands away from my head. I was shaking so much.

"Please..."

"Shh," he spoke quietly. "I am going to help you. I promise."

Two fingers from either hand pressed against my temples.

The volume was going back and forth. Like he was fighting against another force. I just kept my eyes screwed shut and fought the urge to reach up and claw at his hands or my face or anything else.

And finally, it was over.

A heavy sigh of relief came out as my body seemingly went limp.

Morpheus's arms wrapped around me, holding me close to his chest as I cried.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. "I pushed you to test these gifts. I led you here. I am sorry."

I didn't reply. I was too focused on getting my breath to even out. I didn't think it was physically possible to be exhausted in the dream realm. But here I was, feeling like I was on the brink of losing consciousness.

I slowly pushed myself to sit up again. I looked at Morpheus. My heart almost broke clean in half at the look of guilt written on his face. I moved forward and hugged him properly. One of his hands cupped the back of my head as his other arm wrapped around me.

"I am going to keep you safe," he promised. "I will never leave you to cope with this power on your own. Not again."

I closed my eyes and hid my face in his shoulder.

"I am so sorry."

"I forgive you," I replied. "I never blamed you."

He leaned back slowly. I grinned at him. He grinned back at me.

He stood up, taking both of my hands to help me follow his lead. "I am going to find a place for you to be at peace."

"Are you going to stay with me," I asked as he led me out of the throne room.

"If you will let me."

I nodded. "I would be much happier if you stayed with me, Morpheus."

His smile only grew.

The rest of that evening was spent in some comfortable silence. I laid back in a field of grass, taking the first calm breaths I had taken in hours. Morpheus sat next to me on the grass.

He would look at me from time to time. There was a cautious look on his face. I would grin at him. I knew that he was scared that what he had done wasn't enough, so I didn't stop him from trying to watch over me.

And that may have been the most peaceful night I had ever experienced.

--------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[sylvidoptera]

The tiny fae sat atop the neck of the ancient snapper, holding on to his bag of parchment and writing instruments. He let his mind drift for the walk, knowing that the habit of countless years would take the larger dragon's feet exactly where they needed to go. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing.

The mental memory, however, was slippery and you always took it for granted until it was gone.

As they reached the tablet in the middle of the clearing, Scribbles could feel his great-great-grandmother perk up. The sight of the polished rocks she'd called her desk for ages would always draw her out of the slightly disconnected place she spent the majority of her time these days. His own spirits brightened instantly and he grinned with anticipation.

While Tomo puttered around her desk setting up everything just so, Scribbles fluttered to the two sides of the path that came through the trees. Most of the locals knew that the famous researcher was now struggling with dementia and would treat her accordingly; but sometimes strangers would come through and laugh at "the daft old lady" who handed out coins for simple answers over and over.

As the fae put the second sign up, its block letters reading "PLEASE BE KIND", he heard himself called back. "Scribbles! Everything is ready! You need to be in place if you're to get any work done with me today!" Tomo's voice was affectionate and filled with the same eagerness that had driven her to learn everything she could when she was younger.

"Yes, Grandmother! I was just putting up the 'open' signs for our sources."

"Good boy! Hopefully we'll get someone who knows what they're talking about today. I swear, some people just are woefully ignorant. But that's alright! We can teach. Everyone likes to learn, right?"

Smiling a little bit sadly, Scribbles nodded. "Of course." He set up his parchment, inkwell, and quills and prepared for what the day might bring. "We can only hope that everyone today will learn something valuable."

As the day wore on, Tomo never lost her enthusiasm. Whether the answers were wrong or right, she learned something (again) or the dragon who gave the wrong answer was able to have a new fact to take home. Every silly little drawing, recipe, or imaginary prose Scribbles wrote down was met with a gently amused patience and joy that her grandson was so talented and creative.

Those who were in the know would quietly drop their coins back into the basket hidden in the bushes next to the tablet. Tomo was endlessly generous, because she didn't remember that she no longer was a highly-paid scholar. Everyone in the area was so proud and so fond, they would simply make sure that she would never run out of coins… for Tomo insisted on paying for correct answers. Her pride and generosity would allow nothing else.

At the end of the day, Scribbles packed up his equipment and looked at the slowly fading light in his beloved grandmother's eyes. "The sun is going down, Tomo. Time to head home. After all, brains need rest to be able to process all this information."

"Right you are! You're such a good apprentice. If you're lucky, my desk may be yours someday. But not for a long time. There's still so much left to learn." Tomo looked over the clearing one last time before Scribbles climbed up on her back. With a deep sigh that was full of contentment - and a hint of unconscious sadness - the ancient dragon let her mind slip into the twilight she'd been fighting as her body carried her home.

Scribbles looked down at the head that held the most beautiful mind he'd ever known. No matter how many times the fog took her away, he would work hard to bring her out into the light. If that meant spending every day like today, so be it.

Wiping away a tear and sitting up straighter, Scribbles smiled as Tomo started gently rambling a story from her childhood. It was one of his favorites. The little dragon pushed away any shadows from his thoughts and enjoyed the rhythm of the familiar words.

Tomorrow was another day… and there were always questions to ask and answers to give. For what was life without learning and love?

[kitaishi]

❛ It's you, ❜ Cloud mumbles against her temple, ❛ it's always been you. ❜

unprompted ask ( i think ).

    a sealed up wish, tender feelings no one could know... // i. ❛ cloooooouuuud! ’ he never plays with her group of friends, always avoiding them when they call him over to their group. he would just ignore them, which really meant ignoring her, no matter how hard they try to invite him over. that always annoys tifa, her tiny hands bawling into little fists as her voice rings angrily across the town centre - which admittedly wasn't very far, ❛ fine, don't play with us - you big, stupid jerk! ’ she's not really sure why it bothers her so much; why there's still a pout on her face as she whines to her mother about it ( again ) as they walk hand in hand to her bedroom or why her mom just quietly laughs as she tucks her into bed. adults were weird.

      a starry night at a well, a promise itched... ii. tifa swallows the bitter disappointment she feels when a man, his hair dark and cascading down his back in spikey layers instead of blonde and upright, arrives into town with the well renowned sephiroth. every boy she had known had left home, making promises to write and more as they waved her goodbye - declaring they would make it big as they left their small town life, and their small town friend, behind. she hadn't ever bothered to see if they had, except for one. she feels silly the more her mind lingers on it, reminded of all the months she spent waiting on any small fragment of news that reached nibelheim - desperately searching for any sign of a certain name. tifa adjusts her hat as she pulls on her fakest smile, voice heavy with her mountain accent and a feeling she doesn't want to acknowledge right now tugging at her heart. ❛ welcome to nibelheim! ’

      if everything is a dream, don't wake the dreamer... iii. she can't help but stare at him, confusion and concern coloring her face as she watches over her childhood friend. ❛ cloud....? could that really be you? ’ he simply blinks up at her, his head rolling while he repeats her name from the ground in what feels like a drunken stupor before something inside of him suddenly clicks...and he jumps up with such an unnatural speed that tifa nearly stumbles over from surprise. cloud smiles down at her and it frightens her a little as she rises to meet his gaze. maybe it's because he's smiling but it's not at her, at least not really. it's past her; through her almost. cloud nods twice to himself before repeating her name again - although this time it sounds more like a confidant affirmation to himself, as if remembering her is locking something inside of him in place.

she briefly turns away from him, desperately trying to think of what to do or what to say - missing how his hands rise to clutch his head in pain once she's no longer looking. when she turns back, his posture is perfect and he's still standing there, smiling eerily past her. there's a familairty that rushes through her when she studies his face - memories of playing amongst dirt and riverbends, of stargazing and being lulled to sleep by crickets and wolf howls all coming back to her. of the smell of her father's warm and worn leather jacket and the taste of his own mother's cookies that always melted in her mouth just right. he reminds her of home. even when his bright mako eyes, eyes that she would normally despise, stare back at her instead of the bright blue she remembered from childhood. without any hesitation, tifa places a hand on his shoulder - giving him a gentle smile in return before she begins to lead him out of the rain and away from the station, ❛ it's good to see you again cloud... ’

      parting words left unsaid, only to be washed away... iv. mako poisoning. the doctor said it was...mako poisoning, an advanced case but the words, her new reality, still barely registered. even as she kneeled in front of cloud's unresponsive body, sobbing into the thick fabric of his pants. tifa wasn't sure how much of this she could take. ❛ please cloud... t-tell me that you can see me, that you can hear me?! talk to me! ’ there's no response, just like it has been every over time she's pleaded and begged for him to wake up - the small patient room silent aside from her continuous crying and the beeping of the machines fruitlessly monitoring cloud.

      together, in the stream of life, we find each other again. v. tifa watches in quiet awe as the illusion of the boy that she grew up with and who had helped her piece together the truth disappears with a comforting smile. all that's left in his place is the crumbled body of his adult self - clutching his head in pain and groaning to himself. ❛ cloud! ’ tifa shouts and runs to his side, desperate to touch him  - to know that he's real and is okay. ❛ it's really you...isn't it? ’ she asks softly while crouching down to his level, watching carefully as his eyes dilate and adjust to the glow of the lifestream before finally settling on her. once their eyes meet, it feels like, at least to her, that they're seeing each other for the first time in their entire lives.

 ...i was devastated. ...i wanted to be noticed. i thought if i got stronger i could get someone to notice...

      those words were spoken by his younger self and it had confused her then but now she understands. all the why's in her life suddenly making sense: why he always ignored her. why she agreed to meet him at the water tower despite that. why she cried alone when she couldn't gather the courage to ask zack if he ever knew a boy name cloud back in midgar... ❛ cloud, i... ’ her words are cut off when she feels his arms around her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as they both finally cry together, finally accept each other. it's you, she can hear his breath whisper against her hair as he cradles her, all the shared pain and trauma and unspoken feelings releasing in the depths of this strange place inside of his mind. it's always been you. 

❛ ...i know. ’ she whispers softly, her cheek laying on his shoulder as she closes her eyes and allows the current to take them back to the surface - back to mideel, to meteor, and all their troubles. but they had each other so tifa believed things would be okay this time. ❛ i see you cloud - i always have. ’

[hypnagogics]

Where the Mulberry Tree Stands

before you read ▪︎ my masterlist

☆: my rewrite of the myth of pyramus and thisbe. ♡ but with ellie as pyramus, & reader as thisbe. i realize this is very niche, but i wanted to try something new! absolutely adore mythology of all kinds, so basically wrote this for myself. if you do read, hope you enjoy! well, as much as you're able to...photomode creds—astralnymphh on pinterest.

◇: reader discretion is advised!! please do not read if sensitive to heavy angst with a tragic end, descriptions of suicide & brief mentions of parental abuse. also contains flowery writing and references to figures/things in ancient greece (which i pray are accurate...) ++ 4k wc

“The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed.” — Homer, The Iliad.

Tap tap tap, three raps on the plaster wall in double time signaled to her on the other side that your meeting time had arrived. Tap tap tap, and she returned it with a flourish at the end, a new arrangement every day, so you knew to escape into the night.

Ellie—who was named after and nothing short of the embodiment of light itself—your lover, your soulmate, your other half lived just there. But generations upon generations of family tension forbade you two from living your dreams. Decades of battles for who had better quality fruit, sweeter honey, more drachmae, which family was favored by the citizens in the area—it all felt trivial, and frankly silly, when you thought about how much she meant to you in comparison to all that.

You had memories of early childhood, kneeling on the scratchy straw of the floor, while your mother berated you for spending time with the girl. “What were you thinking? I will not have my child associating with dishonorable likes such as them, you have disappointed me greatly. If I catch you over there one more time, by gods I will feed you to the wolves with my own two hands. Try it, one more time and you'll see what will fall upon you.” The way her voice shook with emotion was harrowing, you've never seen your mother in such a rageful, infuriated state, you could have sworn she was emulating the anger of a gorgon, and you remember the slap across your face that quickly followed her outburst, how it burned.

Yet through all the lectures and beatings, you never understood where she was coming from. Shouldn't bonds—strong and robust as if they were forged on Hephaestus’ anvil—come above all material things? You thought so at least. And she agreed. When you matured, you pitied your family for missing out on such experiences. “They will never know how lucky we are.” You would whisper in your lover's ear, whenever she fell asleep on you during your beloved nightly outings.

Every time you laid eyes on her, it was like you fell in love all over again. Her olive eyes shining, grin lighting up her entire face, husky giggles filling the air as she bolted to tackle you in a tight embrace. You two spun in each other's arms, nearly tripping over the low wooden fence marking your shared property. It only earned a laugh—when you were with her, any negativity was completely erased, as if it never existed in the first place. All stresses, worries, cares in the world simply vaporized into the air, and the only emotion you knew was adoration.

You two skipped hand-in-hand to your favorite spot by the river, where the air cooled and the grass was dotted with baby blue flowers. You toppled over, falling to a heap on the ground. Moist smacks of her lips all over your face while she cradled your jaw tenderly, every reunion with her felt like it was multiple lifetimes apart. Your breathing synced as you sat together in silence, enjoying each other's company.

Soon after you sat down though, unexpectedly, Ellie began with a wobbly voice, tears welling up in her eyes, “I love you so much, can't stand to be apart from you. This is torture, sometimes I can’t bear to wait for the sun to set, I need to rip it out of the sky myself. What did we even do to deserve this?” You pulled her in and cuddled her close to your chest, letting her listen to the rhythm of your heart and wrap her arms around you to rub your back. You felt the way her hands trembled, you couldn't remember the last time you saw the tough Ellie break down like this, it was tearing you apart.

Kissing the top of her head, you interjected, “But observe it positively, at least we are able to see each other at all, and we live so close, only separated by one thin wall.” Her shoulders began to shake, sticky tears quickly soaking through the linens you were wearing. Feeling your own heart shatter into countless pieces, you just stroked her hair and let her cry as much as she needed.

She clutched you tighter and wailed, “I just wish to spend every hour by your side, every hour awake and every hour asleep, without any separation. I wish I could cook for you in our house, with vegetables grown from our soil, bring you flowers from our garden, and tend to the animals you and I named, instead of waiting until sunset after a day of listening to my father talk badly of you. When I hear him spout all that nonsense, it hurts me so deeply, because all he's saying are lies…this is so unfair.”

You tried your best to console her, “Shh, my love, don't cry. That is the most beautiful dream and I wish it all the same, but don't despair.” You moved her face so she looked up at you, sparkly tears streaming down her sun-kissed cheeks, her beauty was blinding—even when she was sad. “Don't lament, for I am right here, look!” You tried to cheer her up, “I'm holding you now while we rest, while we breathe in the crisp air and feel the soft blades of grass beneath us, all will be well. Don't dwell on those thoughts, let them go.”

Swaying gently from side to side and humming a calming melody, you succeeded in soothing her, feeling her relax in your arms and her shudders slow to a stop. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. You continued the sweet reassurances, kissing away her tears. “One day, whether it be soon, or when we're old and fragile, struggling to stand or wipe our own asses,” you pause to share a chuckle with her, “We won't have to meet like this. Just trust, there is a plan for us in the stars, trust in our gods.”

She nodded, turning to gaze off in the distance, and watch a white crane drink from the water. She snapped to look at you with surprise blazing in her eyes, more round than your mother's prized ceramic dishes. “I have a thought, what if we wed? In secret, with our families never knowing a thing. Or even better we go to the spot over there,” she stopped to point across the river, at the large mulberry tree standing tall in the middle of a yellow-green field. She continues, “And we run away together. We could hitch a ride on a ship and sail over to Lesbos, perhaps we can meet Sappho herself! I've always wanted to. But first we must profess our love for each other, properly, tomorrow night's time, under the tree, to ensure we're blessed. What do you think?”

She was holding your hands gingerly, ghosting the pads of her fingers over your knuckles. For the first time in so many years, you felt a strange warmth brew in your chest, what was it, you had forgotten. Could it be hope? You felt your mouth stretch into a smile so wide it ached, and you burst forward to throw your arms around her neck again, mumbling into the side of her neck, “Yes, yes, Ellie, a thousand times, yes. Oh, I can't wait, I will swipe one of my mother’s silk veils, cook us a celebratory meal, it will be so wonderful.”

Mellow belly laughs, delightful as those spilling from a leader being crowned, tore themselves from her chapped lips, and she squeezed you so tight against her, like she was never planning to let go. “And I will bring my spear, gifted by my grandfather, so I have it to protect my wife from anything that dares harm her.” Hearing her refer to you as her wife, it was a feeling like none other. The butterflies in your stomach swarmed like they became a flock of swallows, their excited tittering heard all the way across the ocean.

You squealed, “Ah I love you, I love you, I love you, my dearest, we will have such a wondrous life together.”

“Yes, that we will, but let's rest until then, I look forward to it. I will write a song just for you as well, bring my lyre and sing to you so we dance from evening until dawn arrives. As soon as night falls, I will be by the spot waiting, that is a promise. Now rest, we have big plans ahead of us, have the sweetest dreams, love.”

The next day spent waiting was as torturous as Ellie describes, only worse. Because all you could think about was her. Running away with her, never looking back at your old lives, getting joyously joined in matrimony—albeit informally—your mind was plagued. After your mother left for her daily errands in the town, you dug through her things, practically overturned her whole space to find the veil. You put it on, feeling so exquisite. It appeared as if it was weaved on an angel's loom, the fibers soft and vibrant.

When all that was over, you resorted solely to watching the sun move in the sky. You were feeling impatient and antsy, and briskly grew tired of waiting so you decided to get started on the trek. You have not been over to that spot in some time, but were interested to see how the tree had grown, and if it had reared fruit. You observed the clouds and the sky during your stroll—the sun had not set fully, the sky still as orange as freshly pressed juice.

Luckily the river was shallow, so you just hiked up your clothes to your waist and crossed without a hitch. You scurried through the tall grass and made it to the tree, sitting down underneath it. You took a deep breath in, smelling the clean air and observing the lively nature around you, still bored but glad to be away from your house—nothing good ever occurred there.

Looking up, you're pleasantly shocked to see the tree is full of fruits, clusters of pale baubles brightly contrasting the green leaves. You reached up and took one from the stem, biting into it, but you recoiled at the taste—tart and bitter, it was horrendous. Like you were eating something utterly inedible. You threw it on the ground, grinding it to a pulp with the bottom of your sandal, that's how offended you were at the assault it performed in your mouth. “Ugh, gross, these are meant to be ripe…do we really eat them like this? What a waste of a fruit.” You muttered to yourself, resuming a cross-legged sitting position by the tree's roots.

After some more time of uneventful waiting, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, at attention, primal alarm bells going off inside you—something wasn't right.

You scan your surroundings with haste, noticing movement in the tall grass in front of you, you're transfixed and stay staring at it, ripping a branch off of the tree to use as a weapon, because your warrior wasn't here yet to protect you from harm.

You heard her before you saw her, a low guttural rumbling rang through the air that could only belong to one thing. Out of the grass emerged a golden lioness, slinking towards you with hushed aggression, her teeth bared and dripping with the remains of a kill.

Your instincts to run away kicked in with full force, and you screamed out for help, running as fast as your legs would carry you. Unfortunately, the speed at which you sat up caused the veil to fall from your head and to the ground—but you didn't care, you didn't think it was possible for your mother to hate you more than she already does. You ran as far as you could, briefly glancing behind you to see what the situation was, what the lioness was doing.

You were able to make out her tearing the fabric apart so voraciously, bloodstained jaws ripping it into shreds, bits of dyed fabric flying to all sides. You still ran as far away as you could, you did not want to be the next victim of those canines, that would be anything but pleasant.

Once the adrenaline wore off you collapsed, panting heavily, trying to catch your breath with difficulty. The tall plants hid you well from any threats, so you laid down, and closed your eyes to recuperate before it was time to meet with Ellie.

When night fell, Ellie made her way to the spot, spear and lyre in hand. She was so excited, and had spent the whole day practicing her act happily, making sure every note she played was perfect. She wanted to make this the best one-woman show you've ever seen.

She couldn't contain her glee, and resorted to sprinting to the designated meeting place, calling out to you, her voice light as a birdsong, “Lovely! I've arrived!” But she stopped short in her tracks when she didn't see you jogging over to greet her with a hug, or really anywhere at all.

“Where could you be?” She asked the world in bewilderment, casting glances all around her to see if you were playing a trick on her. She didn't think you were, but didn't wish to jump to worst case scenarios right away.

Her heartbeat sped up slightly, suffocating fear bubbling up in her throat at your absence. Scampering closer to where she thought you were going to be, she still saw you were nowhere to be found. That is, until something colorful caught her eye.

Hanging from a branch, a piece of torn fabric, stained with dark, still-wet blood. Her line of sight dropped, and she saw more pieces strewn across the dirt, next to glaring claw marks in the soil, and decorating the tree's bark.

She suddenly felt winded, as if somebody had thrown her from a height and she landed flat on her back, full panic setting in. “Oh gods, oh no, what-” She gasped, teetering backwards, overwhelmed by the realization that had taken hold of her. “No, no, no, no, she's right over there. This is from before…” she muttered under her breath, her inhales labored, head pounding as if she was struck by a hammer, and hands shaking so intensely the pieces of fabric she was still holding slipped from her fingers.

“Love! Come out!” She yelled again, her voice cracking, her vision tunneling and chest seizing—this couldn't be happening.

The blood roared in her ears, tears pouring out of her eyes while she pawed at her hair and fell to her knees, hyperventilating. Her spear and lyre clattered noisily as they fell, lyre shattering to bits. She yanked on her locks, unable to believe what was happening to her—where was her love?

She picked up the pieces of the veil, frantically trying to rejoin them, the blood coating her uncontrolled fingers and staining her skin, the hideous color making her stomach turn.

Then the sobs came, she had never cried harder in her life, her whole body heaving with each quake, the pain in her soul worsening as seconds flew by. She kneeled before the tree, pleading to the sky, “Someone…anyone…please. I need her with me.” She felt light-headed, consumed by otherworldly anguish as if it was bestowed by Hades’ hand. It began to morph into numb hopelessness the longer she stayed there, praying, weeping into the ground.

She had to do something, escape from her body, thoughts were swarming her mind, the idea that you were dead ridding her of balance, taking everything from her.

She pleaded until her throat hurt, until crows had perched at the top of the tree to watch her exhibition. They cawed mockery at her, as if they were saying, measly human!

She howled, “What is this life, just give her back to me! Give me back my love, give her back to me, I can't be without her. I can't, no I couldn't. It's too—no—uh. Gods, anyone? Why, why, why?”

Cacophonous, animalistic, cries fell from her lips until she couldn't produce a croak—voice dry and hoarse, waves of grief clawing their way out of her, eating her from the inside out. Her tone barely above a whisper, she was still mumbling, “Give her back, give her back to me. I haven't done any wrong in my life, we can't help where we come from! Just give her back.” In the furthest recesses of her mind there remained a glimpse of hope that she could bring you back, if she willed it hard enough.

She was flooded with memories, memories of your scent, your warmth in her arms, your sing-song voice and the love-filled looks and caresses she was so blessed to be the recipient of. All of that, was she never to experience it again?

She attempted to stand up, but her legs could not hold her, she fell on the hard ground with a grunt, even having cried out all her tears. Every passing moment made it more difficult to breathe, made her chest hurt worse—she needed to do something to ease it.

Her spear. The glint of the metal alloy caught her eye from where it was, any sense of judgment she had before was gone, replaced by pure darkness, the wish to leave the world.

She picked it up, and almost couldn't hold it, the handle feeling twenty times heavier than usual, the blade shaking in her unsteady hands. Was she doing this? She had to, there was nothing else left for her, she thought.

She found her voice, slowly angling the glimmering edge of the blade towards her heart, and said a word. “My love, we'll meet again. We'll meet in the flowering fields of Elysium, where I will get to hold your hand once more, and we'll have our own house, attached to a garden full of vegetables to cook delicious meals with. We'll play with the animals we named, and spend every hour together—awake and asleep. I must do this, for life isn't possible without you.”

She took a deep breath and stabilized her hands, bringing the spear tip to touch her sternum. Her voice steadying, she said three words for the very last time, “I love you.” Before plunging the blade in her heart with all the strength she had left.

The pain was indescribable, so painful she couldn't even scream, but it was thankfully short-lived—she lost consciousness almost immediately after coughing up some blood. It splattered all over the mulberry tree, dyeing the previously white fruits to a shade mimicking that of wine. What followed was never ending blackness, but finally peace, and she left the world with a smile on her face, her last thought was that of you.

Over in the grass, the breeze flying through the tall stalks lulled you to a sleep, and you awoke with a start, confused as to what had happened and where you were.

You blinked the bleariness away and sat up, remembering the lioness that tried to attack you. What a story you had to tell Ellie. She wouldn't believe you, in your mind's eye you could see the way she'd nod, the teasing tone to her voice, “Yes, that happened. No, no, of course I believe you, when have I not?”

At the thought of her, you remembered why you were out here in the first place—to meet with your future wife and profess your love, then run away to live the life you dreamed of. Oh how you couldn't wait.

You jumped up and dusted yourself off, then ran to the tree, eager to tell Ellie about the encounter you had.

But the sight that befell you was the worst thing you could've ever imagined to see. Something only written in the most famous tragedies, something no one ever wished on another person, even their worst enemies.

Ellie, your love, laying on the ground in a pool of maroon blood, with no color in her features, and her spear sticking out of her chest.

You gasped in horror and rushed to her side, madly shaking her body, patting her cheeks, pressing on her arms—but alas, she was completely limp.

“Ellie! No! Wake up!” Thunderous shrieks, begs and pleads for her to wake up shook the Earth, you stroked her face, the ugly feel of her cold skin only adding to the devastation.

When she wasn't moving, you held her body protectively, didn't ever wish to let go, tried to find any signs of life, tears of mourning streaming down your face in bucketfuls.

You stayed there by her as long as you could, silently praying to whatever was out there for her to move a muscle, to open her eyes and assure you everything was alright—she was just joking around, the blood was juice she nabbed, thickened with starch she got from the kitchen, the spear tip was broken and actually just resting against her skin, held in place by a base she crafted and secured under her robe, her lifeless complexion produced by powder—likely flour—to give the chalky effect.

But no, this was reality. Your love had left you. She left you the worst way, by taking her life herself. But why? After all you had planned together?

Thinking like that pained you, the wretched feeling of grief spreading throughout your whole being, thinking of anything at all felt impossible. Did she do it because of you? That thought sent a wave of nausea through you, there was no way that was true.

There was only one thing left to do, you thought. You made up your mind, pulled the spear from her chest, wincing at the sight of her wound, and held it in your hand. You leaned forward and pressed one more kiss to the middle of her forehead, forced a smile against her, and whispered, “It's okay, I'll be with you soon, my love. We'll meet again.”

You took a few breaths in and out, braced yourself for the piercing pain, lined up the sharp tip with your own heart, and thrust with all your might.

Sweet mulberries, succulent and luscious—ended up ripening to a deep mauve hue, similar to that of blood and wine, and became the most adored fruit of them all. A plentiful treat for the masses, deemed compensation for the sacrifice of two love-sick mortals. It was the least the gods could do after all they witnessed before them today. As they watched the spectacle, their understanding of the human species only increased in wonder, in curiosity about their motivations. “That was so strange, they did not know the other was alright—merely jumping to conclusions. Fascinating. Humans are so emotional, where's the rationale?” They debated amongst themselves until the sun rose once more, the only agreement they came to was increased sympathy for humanity, even going as far as to pity.

“Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight. For the greatest tragedy of them all is never to feel the burning light.” — Oscar Wilde.

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