#yes i am real time crying

[x-authorship-x]

Hi🌻💜

22. “This isn’t goodbye.”

#22- "This isn't goodbye."

"Liar. You know it is."

There was nothing Shisui, for all his witticisms, could say to that.

They sat in silence for a while longer, looking down at the bustling streets below as their feet swung through the open air. If it had really been Ino's choice to be here, she'd have picked somewhere else. The communal Yamanaka gardens, probably. As it was, whatever Pein had done didn't quite align.

Eventually, Ino couldn't stomach the silence any longer. The shock had worn off, the rage and screaming, her fists beating against a chest warmed with the mimicry of life. The demand for answers, the frantic grapple for chakra she couldn't access and techniques she couldn't use to rip this illusion apart. The anger. The denial.

"It's not real," Shisui had said, soft as though that could have made it any less painful. Any less true. "But it's not fake either... not really."

A non-answer. Maybe, knowing her father and herself as well as Shisui's own skills, Ino shouldn't have expected anything less.

"A goodbye would mean we'd never see each other again," was the counter Shisui finally came up with.

Ino planted her hands on the pylon either side of her thighs and rolled her head sideways to look at her brother.

Her dead brother.

"You're telling me this is the afterlife."

Shisui pressed his lips together at that, abashed as much as amused, and his dimples carved shadows into his cheeks. He was both exactly the same and so different from how Ino had remembered him; photographs hadn't done the animation of his expression any justice, had made him look smaller when he was more of a size with her father, to say nothing of his voice and laugh. It was heartbreaking - or, if would've been, if Ino had allowed herself to linger on the thought - to realise that her memory had been so stunted. That she'd already forgotten so much.

Half her life had revolved around this boy.

Ino shook her head before he could respond, grim and stubborn in her conclusions. "It's not. If you weren't a figment of genjutsu or my own brain, then you'd tell me the truth. I don't have the answers, though, so neither do you."

Agony glinted in Shisui's dark eyes. Despite the blinding brightness of the noonday sun overhead, he wasn't even squinting.

"Ino-chan..."

Ino couldn't bear to look at him any longer but the idea of wasting these precious moments not drinking him in... Instead, a pitiful compromise with herself, she tangled their hands together and had to blink back tears at the illusionary warmth and strength in his grasp.

"If you were really my brother, you'd tell me why you died. You'd tell me the truth."

A hitched breath beside her. Another first.

Shisui had never cried in front of her, before. He'd been like that, sadness in glimmers that he was careful to shield her from. Wondering how much he'd concealed had only made the grief and guilt worse in the long term.

"But you can't."

Her voice was barely coherent now, thick with the tears that didn't fall but blurred her view of Konoha into a smear of sky and colourful checkers.

"You're not him. I won't see him again, you're here because I wanted to see you but that doesn't make it true... So, you're right. It's not goodbye. You were never here in the first place."

Her fingers were going numb from the vice grip Shisui had on her hand, clutching it between both of his and then bringing her knuckles to his forehead when she swung her hair as a curtain between them. Tears dampened her skin.

"I don't care if you don't believe me. This isn't your time, Ino, and I don't want to see you again for many years because you've got a whole life ahead. I'll see you after. But-" and, now, Shisui's voice was almost too thick to follow "-I want you to know that I never wanted to leave you. I'm so sorry, imouto, but I'm so proud of you. And, even if you don't believe me, I hope you don't doubt that. I hope you tell Sensei and your mom that I love them, that I'm watching, that I'll see them one day too."

Ino could barely breathe, it felt like she was choking on too much and too little, and then Shisui's arms were sliding around her shoulders and they were crying together, tangled. And they weren't outside any more, no longer suspended like guardians above the home that Shisui had adored, but perched on the counter of her mother's flower shop.

And, suddenly, it was all too much.

This was an unfamiliar hug, she'd been a child when her brother had died and now she was almost the same height, now she could grip him back and feel the shudder of his spine as he mourned everything beyond his reach. And it was the cruelest, most beautiful thing, to glimpse a perfect what-if and know, in your soul, that you'd never see it again.

Suddenly, Ino realised that she didn't care she was a Yamanaka, that she was training to be an Interrogator, that she was a Shinobi and supposed to look underneath the underneath, that she was never supposed to concede and blindly believe.

"You're here," Ino wailed, and it was something between heartbreak and utter relief. "Nii-san, you're here."

"It's not goodbye, Ino," Shisui agreed, even as everything started to fading, like mist slipping through Ino's arms and she couldn't hold him tight enough.

"Shisui-nii-"

"I never left you to begin with."

[acourtofquestions]

The fact we changed from “My name is Celaena Sardothien and I will not be afraid.” to “Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom… very much.”

Because she is no longer Celaena Sardothien, nor does she live in fear of being afraid. She is done running, done with that mask that isn’t hers, because it doesn’t hold any comfort anymore. The only comfort she has is in who she really is; and that is no longer terrifying to her.

While both remind her who she is, remind her why; why she is here, why she will not break, why she is still fighting.

The first reminds her of what she had loved and lost. Of loving words that carry on, (of why she carries on) but that is all. All Celaena had was remnants; of someone, something… even herself.

The second, however, is something else; while it is still a dream, it is real… even among nightmares. It lives in her past, yes, but it is also the present, and any future. It is terribly beautifully true. And it is more; more than grief, and memory. Carrying on, finding ways to exist, survive. More than a dream, or words… even more than she is.

Because Aelin has something Celaena never did. Yes, she has a cause to fight for. She has her strength, her power, and rage; vendettas for things she could focus a fight to defeat; and a still terribly looming fate. The queen has a kingdom she adores. She has many things, she is many things… even Celaena still. But that’s not what I’m talking about, no, mostly, it’s that she has friends. A family. A Prince. She has a life not just an existence, a love with a beating heart, something worth dying and living for. And even if it is all gone to ash (“even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars”) that is still hers; not a mask, not a facade, but something real.

In accepting who she is… there is the terrible truth of accepting that she is very much afraid (the fact Fenrys even felt the need to make the word “liar” in their code; because she is not alright, he knows, she knows, we “the reader” know… it’s more so the way we ask “how are you?” as a greeting. Sometimes even in terrible places like a funeral; when we know damn well that no-one there is really “good” or “alright”, but it’s the way we say “hello” and “I want you to be okay” and “are you at least surviving this”). It is being terrified of her acceptance in the first place, because part of being Aelin is the price it holds; because she was “promised” for a fate manipulated by gods before she even had the chance to draw breath�� and there’s a doomsday in it that she’ll have to rage against one day… but not yet… not in this place. For now, she just has to exist, survive, live. And only Aelin can do that.

Because it’s not Sam’s words she needs anymore; it’s Rowan’s. And even more so, it’s her own.

It’s the words she said to him, but it is her story (Perhaps even the one she tattooed on her spine? Just a theory of the exact words.) because that, is still hers. Real. Living.

And as any reader knows (it’s why I love these books) you should never underestimate the power of a story.

[praetorqueenreyna]

SJM I'm begging you, give the people what they want

[jrueships]

WHOEVER THE FUCK IS RECOMMENDING MED PPL TO GO INTO RADIOLOGY JUST CUS IF THE MONEY, IM GONNA FUCKING gET YOU

[natjennie]

anyone else out here a middle child saddled with eldest daughter responsibilities?

[hauntingblue]

Inept 8 year old boy dragon tries to save floating island is such a concept

[nomairuins]

loveee when a character is crushed under the weight of someone elses expectations for them love when a character dedicates their entire life to something they never even wanted for themself love when the only reason a character keeps going is because theyre Supposed to and bc theyre supposed to make another person happy/proud. YES !!! CLAPPING !!! YES !!!!!!!!

[soullessjack]

he is so important to me

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: February 17

“DYWTYLM” by Sleep Token

[lardedallwithsweetflowers]

"As fate would have it, Cusack had fallen in love with a tall, laconic actor called Jeremy Irons, who was starring in Godspell just down the road. It was a case of opposites attracting. 'He was so elegant and refined,' she recalls. ('She was so Irish and wild and seemed to embody everything I wasn't,' he said.)

[...] Sam was born less than 10 months after Cusack's mother died of heart disease in 1977 ('I think he was conceived the night before she died. I like the thought of their two souls mingling'). 'The combination of all those emotions was just too much to deal with,' she says quietly. She recognises now that, for at least six months, she suffered from severe post-natal depression, undiagnosed at the time. Her work and her husband got her through — 'Jeremy has always been my greatest support'".

Sunday Independent, 30 July 2006

[maegalkarven]

The biggest morale hit "My time at Sandrock" gave me was making the Builder get dark shadows under their eyes if you don't drag their ass in beg in time.

I went to bed at 2 am and woke up at 7, WDYM I look like death rolled over?

I feel so called out.

[thatfaerieprincess]

if one more well meaning relative asks me if i have done any drawing recently i will start screaming and flip a table 🤪🙃

[rowenabean]

[kenobster]

I agree that Anakin is, at the very least, a little fucked up... but I do not agree that he feels no remorse. Dude murders an entire village but he can't even say "I slaughtered them like animals!!!!" without sobbing like a baby about it lmao

[bo0zey]

anyone else ever get in those silly goofy moods where u just hate urself sooo much that u instantly feel physically almost violently ill just thinking abt urself and also even tho u worked a 12hr shift w no breaks or water running off of the 2 cups of coffee u had for breakfast 20 hours ago, the thought of eating instantly sends bouts of nausea coursing thru ur soul while churning in ur stomach bc ur brain hates u so much that its convinced ur body that u don’t deserve sustenance or anything else that’s life sustaining or promotes ur physical well being because u subconsciously convinced urself that ur such a shit excuse for a human being that u neither deserve nor have any right to anything regarding maslow’s hierarchy of needs bc u r such an awful thing u deserve to be neglected n treated like the nonliving object ur own brain sees ur living body as or am i just mentally ill lol

[hauntingblue]

YAMATO NEW NAKAMA PLEASE 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️LUFFY PLEASE!!!!