#When instead... She truly loved each of her “children” and will weep for them

[notdysfunk]

"Don't tell me how I feel inside. All the pieces I have lost, I have loved."

feat. @kh0well's Tilaa!!

[abbysciutossecretwife]

So, I’ve been going down the Anti SOTR rabbithole on here recently, and although I still adore the book, the naysayers did bring up some good points. Mainly, Ma and Sid’s deaths being too overshadowed and Lenore Dove simultaneously not getting enough time to shine and being constantly mentioned every other page. So, I decided to think of a way to fix that.

What if he’s utterly wrecked after Ma and Sid’s deaths, and who’s there to comfort him? Lenore Dove, who just got released from prison. And she actually does help him through his loss, and she doesn’t die right away. Two years go by, and we get to see more of Lenore Dove’s personality. More proof that she’s not a “knockoff Lucy Grey” as critics might say. The two are there for each other, although there’s still a distance between them, something that wasn’t there before, something that despite all of their efforts to ignore it, will always remain. Lenore Dove, wonderful as she is, has never been through the Games, has never known what it it to be treated as a plaything by the Capitol. Try as she might, she cannot truly understand Haymitch’s pain, the dreadful grief that is only worsened when he mentors the tributes in the coming years, when they all die horrid deaths in that arena. And Lenore Dove, rebel, cannot understand why he is so complicit, so willing to go each year to the Capitol, to go and, in her view, allow more children to suffer, allow the Capitol’s horrid oppression. She cannot understand his plight. How could she? And then something happens that Haymitch does, something so outrageous, that Snow snaps. He kills Lenore Dove, who has probably also been causing trouble in the district. (I don’t know, I haven’t worked out the specifics yet. I also don’t know how Lenore dies, but it will probably be very similar if not just the gumdrop scene. She might have gotten arrested again, I don’t know.) But it’s her death, the death of the rare and radiant and radical Lenore, that truly is a breaking point for Haymitch. He tries to hold it together, but then he has to watch two more children die next year. Then he spirals into the alcoholism that will plague him for the rest of his life.

Also, throughout Haymitch’s games, we should see actual tangible pieces of the personalities of those he holds dear. Instead of just telling us how wonderful Lenore Dove is, why couldn’t we see an actual memory of her? Look, I still love Lenore, because manic pixie dream girls will always have my heart, but she really did not get enough screen time at all! What if we saw flashbacks in Haymitch’s dreams or in moments where he’s almost dying? We might even get to hear more about his father.

Having more time after the Games would solve this. Also, it could highlight how the Districts were just now starting to grow uneasy. Maybe this is the turning point where District 11 is harshly punished for a failed revolt, and Haymitch could learn this from Chaff, who he befriends during his mentoring.

I kind of rambled during this 😅 mainly because most of this is copy-pasted directly from messages I sent to my friend, and I know the SOTR discourse is probably futile in June, but I just wanted to post it here. Also, I still love the book! It’s my personal favourite in the series! I was weeping buckets at the end, but analysing it critically does point out multiple major flaws, and I feebly tried to fix it. I might even write a fic of this. I was going to work on a fic of the first Quarter Quell, but then I saw a post on here mocking a major idea I had for it, and I now feel pretty damn demotivated 😔

Anyway, thanks for reading my ramblings! If you have any feedback, I’d love to read it!

[thegothicchangeling]

These Hands of Mine Are Clumsy, Not Clever

Ambessa's pov on motherhood and failure

@bichletmepickaname @marielaure @supremesharklord @the-underrated-moon

TWs: physical abuse at the end, suicide attempt

When Ambessa Medarda looked at her daughter, she saw all her mistakes staring back at her. From the moment Mel was born, she was different. She didn't look like her mother, like Kino had. She looked like her father, her real father, not like Ambessa's husband.

When the endorphins from giving birth faded away, Ambessa’s heart was filled with dread. When she had Kino, the love came easy. She'd had a faint idea of what to do, but now, looking at her second born, she felt completely lost.

Ambessa Medarda was raised by wolves. War and death were her childhood friends. Her home was a battlefield. Softness was a luxury she couldn't afford. Whatever bit of it she'd managed to protect, she traded to Kindred in exchange for her life, and for the life of her unborn child.

Couldn't that be enough for Mel? Of course, she never told her about it. She would never know how much her mother sacrificed for her. Ungrateful child.

From the moment she was born, Mel's heart was too big for her chest. She cried over the bugs Ambessa squashed under her boot. When she was four years old and a bird crashed into her window, she insisted on holding a funeral for it.

It was attended by her stepfather and Kino, who seemed to make a hobby out of enabling her. The whole thing made Ambessa angry and jealous and resentful. It wasn't fair that she got to mourn. It wasn't fair that she was being comforted for something no real Medarda would shed a tear over.

“This whole thing is beyond ridiculous,” she said coldly. “Death is a part of life, Mel. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

Mel was never far from Kino and his father. One of them was always holding her, or letting her hang onto their hand. Love came easy to them in a way it didn't for her.

Ambessa didn't know how to get close to her daughter. Her husband and son had created a wall between them. She resented them. She resented Mel. She resented herself for resenting her own children.

A part of her did love Mel. There was a corner of her soft, stupid, broken heart that Mel had carved out a place for herself in. That made things more difficult, because Ambessa's hands were made to kill, not cradle. She didn't know how to be gentle.

Once, when Mel was tiny and just barely out of diapers, she fell down. Ambessa had reassured her. She'd tried to be there for her. “That’s nothing,” she said with all the tenderness she had. “Medardas don't cry over scrapes and bruises, child.”

Mel had stared at her, still crying, until her beloved Kino appeared to sweep her up into his arms and kiss it better. What a pathetic display. There wasn't even a bruise. At that moment, even if it was only for a moment, she hated them both.

When her husband died, Ambessa was foolish enough to think it would resolve things. He was the bad influence! He was the one who made her children soft, who turned them against her! Good riddance to him, forever the favoured parent.

Instead, Mel's weakness grew. She began to have nightmares. Ambessa would hear her crying from the other end of the hall and pray that she would calm herself down. She hoped the pain would harden her, make her strong, like it had Ambessa.

It never did. Kino couldn't bear to hear her weep. He came for her every time and held her, told her stories, sang her that stupid fucking nursery rhyme he found in a book of Shuriman children's stories. In the mornings, she'd find them curled around each other, and her resentment grew.

It wasn't that Ambessa didn't ever feel affection from Mel. There were times when she truly made her proud. She was intelligent, she had good ideas, she excelled at everything she applied herself to. But those moments were few and far between.

When her daughter was in danger, it felt as though her heart had stopped. In those few moments, she felt as a mother should towards her child. Ambessa tried to make herself feel that way all the time, but she just couldn't.

She tried to do her hair, but Mel whimpered and cried, saying it hurt, that she was being too rough. Telling her “Medardas don't cry,” didn't work on her like it did on Ambessa when she was a child. Neither did pinching her hard and sharply telling her to stop whining, so eventually she threw up her hands and gave up on it entirely.

Instead, Mel would go to Kino, and he would spend hours upon hours doing her hair, taking his time so he wouldn't hurt her. His gentle fingers nurtured her weakness. Sometimes Ambessa would see her daughter running around with half her head braided because she'd wanted a break. What a stupid idea.

Mother and son began to fight constantly. Often, it was over Mel. Kino seemed to fancy himself her protector. How ridiculous was that? The prince who hated to spill blood, the Medarda with gentle hands, a protector. The idea was laughable.

They were like cats and dogs, always at each other's throats. Kino saw himself as a fox, but Ambessa saw him as a snake. He’d bide his time, coil, and strike the second her guard was down. He had fangs, and he sank them into her. He had venom, too. Only he knew how to wound her in a way that mattered. He had a way of throwing all her failures back in her face, even as she told herself she'd never failed.

Still, she loved him. That was why, when he was injured in battle, she stayed by his side and waited for him to wake, praying that he wouldn't succumb to his injuries. But when he did, he only hurt her. The first words he spoke when fought his way out of unconsciousness, still half asleep and maybe a little delirious, tore a hole in her heart.

“Where's my baby?” He murmured.

“What baby?” She'd asked, confused. He was sixteen. He had no children.

“Mel! Where's Mel?”

Ambessa wanted to slap him. She would have, but she had just gotten him back from the brink of death. She did love him. That was why she sent for her daughter.

When she found them the next day, they were curled around each other, just like they were when she found them the day before she sent Kino away. It was for the best. Mel could never be strong if he was always there to do it for her.

And then she found her bleeding out in her bedroom, in a pool of blood almost bigger than she was, and she screamed for help as she pressed bed sheets to the wounds, trying desperately to staunch the flow of crimson.

She saw what she had done and she hated herself for it. She told herself it wasn't her fault, that she was only doing what was best for both her children when she sent Kino away. He shouldn't have enabled Mel, and she should have been stronger. But when she read the note, Ambessa choked on guilt. It was thicker than bile, and bitterer, too, strangling her, not letting her breathe. It weakened her, and she called Kino home at once.

She loved Mel, she did, she loved her so much it felt like she was being torn apart. And yet, she never did until she thought she would die. Absence made the heart grow fonder.

When Kino returned the next day, mother and son looked down on daughter's pale, unmoving body. Mother stood strong and tal and unyielding, the only way she knew how to be. Brother held sister's hand and cried as he begged her to wake up.

But even though he was soft and weak, he was still a Medarda, through and through. His tongue was his sword, and he used it well. “Never forget that you did this,” he snarled. “If she dies, her blood will be on your hands.”

From that day forward, Kino could only look at his mother with disgust, and Ambessa found herself with two children who hated her.

Ambessa tried to love Mel. She tried with everything she had, tried to bring back how she felt when she thought her daughter was lost to her forever. It never worked. Her heart was twisted and wrong; it didn't know how to love the right way.

Mel got her first blood when she was thirteen. She'd knocked on her mother's door nervously and stared at the floor when she opened it.

“What is it, Mel?” Ambessa asked hopefully. Her daughter never came to her for anything. Perhaps even Kino couldn't help her with whatever the problem was this time.

“Um…”

Ambessa sighed. “Spit it out.”

“My blood started.”

Ambessa blinked. Oh. “Oh. Come in, child.”

She taught her daughter what to do. “These go inside you. Or you can use pads. Those go in your underwear.” Mel nodded silently. She took the pads and didn't say anything.

Ambessa tried to take advantage of the chance to bond over it. “When I got my first blood, I didn't know what it was!” She laughed. “I went crying to my mother, and of course she slapped me for wasting her time with foolishness.”

Mel stared at the floor. She didn't speak.

“What is it, Mel?” She asked. She tried to be soft, but the tone tasted sour on her tongue.

“I want Kino.”

Ambessa was hurt, then angry. “Of course you do.”

She always did love Kino more than anyone in the world. She looked at him like he hung every star in the sky, and of course he would, to make her smile. He was always there, showering her with love and gentleness, and Mel returned it sevenfold. She greeted him by jumping into his arms when he returned from a trip, hugged him, cradled his face in her hands. Ambessa hated her for it.

And of course, there was the matter of who Mel's father was. It always came back to her heritage. He was a mage, and Ambessa prayed Mel wouldn't be one as well.

Even so, she saw him in her every day. She wasn't like her cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. She wasn't like her late stepfather. She wasn't even like Kino in any way that mattered.

She was drawn to the Arcane in a way so Medarda should ever have been. Ambessa didn't see it often, only when she went looking for it in books or enchanted weapons. She made sure to keep them far away from her. Mages were the enemy. Therefore, Mel could not be a mage.

And then, when she was fourteen, Ambessa took her daughter with her to the aftermath of one of her conquests. She asked her what they should do with the princess of the old regime, and Mel's answer showed she hadn't learned anything.

So, Ambessa did her duty as a mother. She taught her. “A wolf has no mercy.”

The fear and shock was clear on Mel's face. Her chest heaved as she stared at the corpse. She couldn't hear her eyes off of it.

“Come along, Mel.”

She didn't respond. She didn't even blink. Ambessa said her name again, a little louder this time. “Mel!”

Still nothing. Huffing in annoyance at the ungrateful child that wretched mage had saddled her with, she grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Mel!”

She gasped and took a step back, staring up at her with wide eyes. Terror was clear on her face. Ambessa realized her daughter was afraid of her.

Mel took ill with a terrible case of bronchitis a few days afterwards and was bedridden for a week and a half. It was as if she'd made herself sick just to spite her mother, just to make her feel guilty. Ambessa wouldn't have put it beneath her.

Kino, ever the tenderhearted fool, cancelled a trip so he could sit by her bedside and what? Read to her? Comb her hair? Kiss her forehead as she slumbered? Nothing that would actually help her get better. Nothing that Ambessa could do for her. Not that Kino would let her.

Now that his father was dead, her son had become twice the wedge he was. He'd stubbornly placed himself between Mel and Ambessa, stealing daughter away from mother. It was his fault. It wasn't because Ambessa was too set in her ways and too broken to be the mother Mel needed.

Still, Ambessa couldn't resent Kino as much as she did Mel. He might have preferred to keep his hands clean, but he didn't shy from verbal fights. He spat venom like a viper, and more often than not, his jabs were directed at Ambessa.

He wasn't foolish enough to try to sway her decision. Unlike Mel, he had a poker face. He could prey on someone's downfall with the best of them. There was no magical blood in his veins. He made Ambessa proud every day.

Even so, he stole Mel away from her on diplomatic trips across the globe. Whisked her away to foreign lands, leaving Ambessa alone, an empty nester. She lay awake at night, missing them but not letting herself cry for them.

It wasn't as if Ambessa didn't give her permission each time. It was convenient, as she didn't really want to see Mel. Yet somehow, she ached for her as soon as she left. That was how it went. Ambessa always wanted the one thing she couldn't have.

Under Kino's tutelage, she unlearned everything her mother taught her, utterly abandoning her teachings in favour of something more idealistic. She shed the colors of the Medarda clan and clothed herself in white and black. She adorned herself in gold jewelry, showing off her wealth and status. Away from her mother, she came into herself fully, and Ambessa didn't like the person her daughter had become.

It was a relief when she found an excuse to send Mel away. Wasn't that an awful thing for a mother to think about her own child? But it was true. Having her around was painful. The look in her eyes hurt her more than anything.

Everytime Ambessa made her decisions, the decisions that protected them, she had the audacity to look betrayed. As if it wasn't all for her. The ache in her chest became a throbbing, and then a burning. She couldn't bear it. She even couldn't bring herself to see Mel off. It hurt too much. She let Kino take her place.

She knew as she banished Mel that she was waving goodbye to any hope that either of her children would look at her kindly again. She would never see her daughter again. Kino would never forgive her for this. She knew that like she knew the sky was blue.

He came back to the palace with red eyes. When Ambessa walked past his room later, she could hear him crying. She often heard muffled sobs coming from his chambers when Mel was out, but these were deep, anguished wails. He wasn't trying to hide his grief.

Ambessa moved on, walking swiftly away from his bedroom door. He didn't come to dinner that night, and she heard him sobbing that night like she used to hear Mel. It was beyond pathetic. Kino was a grown man wailing like a newborn babe. At least, that was what Ambessa told herself when the guilt pulsed in her chest, keeping her from sleep.

She didn't see him until the next day, when she found him in his room, packing his things. Stupid. There were servants for that.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm moving south, to the Noxian-Piltover border,” Kino said venomously. Not many people could look down on Ambessa, but he managed it just fine.

Ambessa's mouth felt too dry to speak, but she tried anyway. “I did it for her.”

Kino laughed bitterly. “Did it for her? Like when you took me away from her and she tried to kill herself? Is that what you mean, Mother?”

“Stop it,” she commanded.

Kino didn't back down; the opposite, he took a step forward. “No,” he spat defiantly.

She stalked towards him. How dare he speak to his mother that way? To the ruler of Noxus? “You'd do well to remember your place.”

“I wish you nothing but suffering,” he whispered venomously. As hurt and angry as Ambessa was, a part of her laughed. Now that was a Medarda, cutting deep, festering wounds into his enemies. He was her son, alright.

“I hope all of the pain you've caused ricochets back to you, like you deserve,” he spat. “I hope it keeps you awake at night, that you never know peace, that you can't bear to look at the monster in the mirror.”

The knife twisted in Ambessa's heart, and she slapped him. “You have no idea what I sacrificed for her!”

“What YOU sacrificed?” Kino laughed a cold, angry laugh. He wasn't even fazed by her blow. His voice rose. “I lost sleep for her! I hid my tears from her, bore every burden so she wouldn't have to! I shouldered the weight of the world for her!”

“What do you know about the weight of the world, Kino?” Ambessa snarled, furious. He had no idea what she'd sacrificed. “You never had to want for anything.”

Her son went in for the kill, sinking his fangs into her. “Except love. And yet, I still know more about it than you!”

“How dare you say that?” Ambessa began to lose her grip. She balled her hands into fists. “She was my child!” Her voice cracked and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“NO, SHE WASN'T!” Kino roared. He was crying for real, rivers running from his eyes as he choked on his pain. “SHE WAS MY BABY! MINE!” He jabbed his finger into his chest violently as tears ran down his face. “I LOVED HER! I LOVED HER MORE THAN ANYTHING! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO TAKE HER FROM ME!”

“I HAD EVERY RIGHT!” Ambessa bellowed back, incensed and grieving and guilty. She'd held in her pain every day of her life, but she couldn't anymore. Couldn't he see he was the one who took Mel from her? “I AM THE QUEEN, AND YOU ARE BELOW ME!”

“YOU NEVER LOVED HER! I DO!”

Ambessa pointed at the door, her hands trembling with rage. “GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

“JUST ADMIT YOU HATED HER! YOU THREW HER AWAY LIKE GARBAGE!”

Before she knew what she was doing, Ambessa had punched him in the face. Blood gushed from his nose and pulled her out of her rage. She gasped. What had she done? Was it broken? Did she just break her son's nose? She was so shocked with herself, she couldn't find words. She reached out to him, then drew her hand back. She was made to kill, not cradle.

Kino pulled himself back together in slow motion. He took a deep breath through his mouth and cupped his hand under his now crooked nose, collecting the blood. He didn't scream. He knew better than that.

“This is your legacy, Mother,” he said as he pulled off his shirt and pressed it to the wound. “Blood and failure.”

“Kino-”

“Don't waste your time on me. I'm only your son.”

That was the last time she had a real conversation with him. As promised, Kino moved to the Noxian-Piltover border.

They never spoke to each other again unless politics demanded it. When they did, they said only what they had to. Most of the time, it was through letters. When they saw each other, Ambessa couldn't meet her son's eyes.

But he never shied away from her gaze, looking at her with hatred, stinging her with little jabs that only she would understand. It hurt her in a way nothing could compare to, but she let it happen. He was a Medarda, after all. Cold and cunning and ruthless to the core.

Kino's loyalty was to Mel before all else. She knew that. She knew her daughter deserved more than she could ever give her, so it was good that she had her brother. Even though he was cold and cunning and ruthless, he knew how to love.

Ambessa resigned herself to it. Late at night, she'd press her hand to her chest and blink away tears as she tried to dull the grief and guilt pulsing in her heart. She couldn't lie to herself. She couldn't avoid the truth. Both her children were lost to her.

[verdemoun]

I love your au but can we have some angst?? How often do they cry??

oh boi i love angst

hosea cried learning about what happened to dutch. he didn't want to and he hated himself for it but he will always love dutch and it hurt knowing dutch became the very opposite of what he believed in. it devastated him in a way he didn't know he could feel grief anymore. much like how dutch was there for him when he mourned bessie, bessie had to be there for him when he mourned dutch or the sheer overwhelming depression might have killed him.

sean cries because he misses karen. in typical sean fashion he tries to pretend everything is okay but see post for details alcohol isn't enough to stop him crying over how much he misses karen. he doesn't cry over the gang so much because in a way he feels morbidly lucky for escaping seeing the gang fall apart. his death truly marked the end of the gang's golden era.

but you know what really fucked up the whole lot of them? going to a little field that used to be part of beecher's hope, all hyped up ready to be reunited with the powerhouse that is abigail marston nee roberts in the modern era equivalent of 1910 and instead, a tiny little girl still holding the teddy, stuffed squirrel her dad gave her appears out of thin air. the lost marston daughter, who died at aged 3, standing in front of them asking for her mom and dad

they try to tell her it's okay and she's safe but she doesn't know any of them. john never spoke softly about the gang, his family. he repressed it and tried to forget and as a result his daughter stares wide-eyed at the gang as terrifying as strangers. the gang literally faced with the fact john has been actively trying not to remember them.

sadie adler, who has not cried since the day the grief of losing her husband turned into rage, has to remove herself. abigail marston jr's nickname is addie as a direct nod to how much sadie adler helped the marstons build a new life. she held that little girl as an infant, and played with her as she grew into a toddler. she sobs because that little girl is so scared she doesn't recognize her auntie sadie and she can't even hold her to comfort her

arthur is able to convince addie marston she's safe by drawing her mama and dad and very gently explaining he's her dad's brother. he's her uncle arthur, who she's never met or heard stories about, but she doesn't need to be scared because her daddy will be there soon and uncle arthur's going to take care of her until then.

they manage to get her home and she almost immediately falls asleep still clutching her stuffed squirrel dressed as a cowboy.

arthur is fucking ruined. he isn't crying, he's weeping. it's the grief he felt all those years after losing isaac: losing a child. his brother lost a child and somewhere across time his brother is having to dig her grave alone and mourn her while she's safely tucked into arthur's bed. arthur has no way to tell him she's safe, she'll be protected and cared for until he's there because the canon era gang don't know the timewarp exists after death. he has no way to talk to him, to be there for him as someone who understands that grief. his little brother is as alone as arthur was when he went through mourning isaac and arthur can't do a damned thing about it because the cruelest irony of the timewarp is knowing what the surviving gang members are going through and not being able to do a damned thing to stop or change it.

charles has to cry silently, because he doesn't want arthur to hear and try to console him. he knows there is nothing he can do or say that will comfort arthur and that ruins him. even for those who escaped, those who lived a life after the VDLs, death still haunts them. there's nothing and no one to blame for addie marston dying at aged 3. she died of an unknown illness, like so many children in the early 20th century, and now they have to pretend they're okay for her sake and each other's sake.

[queen--kenobi]

🌩️ or 🌧️?

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP?

Hhmmm. I'm gonna go with canon for Elayna because I've been thinking about this.

Elayna’s normal perfect braid falls away from its pinned position as she gestures wildly. Her curls, already sticking out from the sides, begin to unwind and fall apart.

"Fuck him!" Elayna snarls. She grabs the edge of her writing desk and pulls. It hits the ground with a large crash. The chair Elayna throws into it splinters.

"Fuck Alicent and Rhaenyra and Daemon and Aegon and most importantly, fuck my husband." Elayna's voice rises with each word. They echo within the stone walls. "Fuck Aemond!"

She sounds almost delirious. The glasses on her small table are the next to go. They shatter against the wall. The bottle of Arbor Red drips down onto the floor to pool like a bloodstain. She flips the table they were on. It smashes upon impact.

The curtains around her bed tear easily. She doesn't stop after ripping them down; she digs her fingernails into the fabric to pull them apart until the seams themselves groan. The curtains around her window take more effort. She truly resembles her house's sigil in the moment, a lioness with bared teeth and sharp claws.

Eventually, she stops. She stands in the center of her room. Her chest heaves. The wild look slowly fades from her eyes to be replaced with tears. Elayna surveys the damage before collapsing in upon herself. She crumbles like the items she ruthlessly destroyed not minutes ago.

"Damn him. Damn Aemond to the Seven Hells for dying. For leaving me! For leaving me and Aelon and Reynard!" She begins to openly weep as she wails. "Damn him for leaving me when I need him most. He left me! He died when me and our sons needed him!" Elayna pauses. In the midst of her tears, she lets out a bitter laugh. "And damn his brother for leaving me. He didn't even have the decency to see his daughter's first birthday. He never was going to be a good husband, but he could have tried! Instead he let himself be poisoned."

"If it weren't for my children, I would personally damn the entire fucking bloodline to the Seven Hells. I would ensure they rot where they belong."

She tries to wipe away her tears. The action only seems to spur a new wave.

"Why? Why did he do this, why did he die? Were our children not enough to make him fight harder? Was I not enough?" Her lower lip wobbles. "Was our love not enough?"

"I miss him. I..." Her mouth opens and closes with no sound. Elayna swallows. Her inhale sounds sickly.

Finally, her voice cracks.

"I cannot. I cannot go on with him."

Tag list: @writingbylee @baba-fett @arrthurpendragon

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

           Brigid, the Celtic Goddess of Poetry, Healing, and Smithcraft.            She is a professor at Phoenix University.

FC NAME/GROUP: Apink Chorong  GOD NAME: Brigid PANTHEON: Celtic  OCCUPATION: professor of health science at phoenix university HEIGHT:  163 cm WEIGHT: 46 kg DEFINING FEATURES: her hair changes shades of red/orange depend on her mood

PERSONALITY: a bright young woman filled to the brim of compassion and love for others yet constantly worrying whether she making the right decisions in her lifetime. The fire burning in the pit of her stomach never ceases driving her forward to build bright and better future for everyone creating new strategies to engage her students . always full of energy trying to put on smiles on others faces even when she feels sad she always manage to force a smile just to make sure the others don’t worry about her. forever a busy bee, she must pack her planner to the brim not wanting to waste any time, enjoying life to full. heed this fair warning, she does have bit of temper and she will kick your ass if she push her too much, Saint Brigid will bring her fury.

HISTORY: The God Dagda gave birth to a child named Brigit, when Brigid was born she had flames shooting out from her head, and through them, she was united with the cosmos. As a baby, Brigid drank the milk of a sacred cow that came from the spirit world. Thus making her the half sister of Cermait, Aengus, Midir and Bodb Derg.

Worshippers sometimes call Brigid the “Triple Goddess” for her fires of the hearth, inspiration, and the forge. She is a powerful being and through her fires, she is the patroness of healing arts, fertility, poetry, music, prophecy, agriculture, and smith-craft. Brigid adored her worshippers, she was always found herself walking among them giving them all she had and helping them. Due to her compassionate nature, the story about Saint Brigit was born being only one of the pagan gods to be converted into christian story. It was sad that people were turn away from the celtic gods & goddesses yet her story managed to endure the test of time.

There was a time when she was married to Bres, he was the king of the Tuatha Dé Danann, He was an unpopular king, and favoured his Fomorian kin ( Their traditional rivals are the Fomorians who seem to represent the harmful or destructive powers of nature ). Their marriage was to build relations between the Tuatha Dé Danann & Fomorian, she was blinded by the love for him as Bres is beautiful to behold, yet harsh and inhospitable and their child Ruadan who was later was slain while fighting for the Fomorians while trying to assassinate Goibniu. Bríg invents keening, a combination of weeping and singing, while mourning for her son. She truly hates war of any kind it always brings her so much pain and sorrow due to being a mother once before then losing a son.

The goddess vowed never to raise another child again and let them be raised by their human parents instead as she rather not mourn over another one of her children death once again. Despite that not raising them, she wanted help guide them teaching important skill sets as all demigod need to build home for themselves, how to patch themselves up after scrap and finally to defend themselves in hand to hand combat. The goddess is filled with wisdom of the ages why not use to help each generation grow and thrive into the next. She always mingled teaching the humans as caring mother to all, it helped fill the hole missing from death of her flesh and blood. Once age of technology came up, she loved sharing diy hacks onto social media along self-defense techniques. Followed by having little etsy shop selling cute metal trinkets.

At phoenix university, she is professor of health sciences, she examines the science behind health, from individual health to global issues like epidemics or the treatment of dementia. The science that underpins the function of the human mind and body. Exploring the incidence, diagnosis and treatment of disease and disability, and examine the maintenance and improvement of health in different populations. Naturally, any supernatural demi-god related diseases along the importance of botany. If demi-god wants to work at asclepius general they probably end up in her class at some point. Not only does she teach at university, on Friday evening she runs self-defense club teaching martial arts to students and staff alike to keep themselves safe along with metal work in her university metal shop on Wednesday evenings. What is the point having all this knowledge not sharing it with others.

POWERS: doesn’t really have super amazing abilities like other goddesses yet she is very skilled metal worker which is great being diy person. She is natural talent in  medicine to patch up any injures which the workers may have while building since it is dangerous job. brigid is natural poet who loves the arts & very creative soul she tends have the ability to talk her way out of anything, mostly anything. finally, she is well-verse in martial arts she knows how to take someone down without batting eyelid never underestimate her or you could end up regretting it.

STRENGTHS:  ( + ) physical strong ( + ) diy master ( + ) silver-tongued

WEAKNESSES:  ( - ) guilty conscience, holds a lot of guilt & tough on herself ( - ) only sees the good in people, not the bad. ( - ) unable heal others by touch yet by knowledge about herbs & medicine

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Below the cut is Catelyn’s letter from “Black does not become you” in its entirety. All of it is in the fic, of course, but here it is without the interruption of Ned’s narration in case anyone wants to read it that way!

My love,

I write to you against my better judgment.

I cannot know if you will ever read this letter, though I hope you will. I expect no answer, you need not concern yourself with that. You also need not concern yourself with me. I knew you for a long time and I expect you have not changed all too much, therefore something tells me you worry for me. That is not necessary. I live, I have my health.

The children, all five of them, mourn your presence in their lives. They miss their father. They are lost without you to lead them, and I cannot be what you were even as I try. I am only one person. Robb became Lord Stark before he was ready for it, before you had taught him all that you meant to. As I write to you he has yet to find his footing. I am certain he will one day, though he was not ready to be without your guidance. Still you would have been so proud of him. He is truly his father’s son.

I fear Rickon will not remember you once he grows older. That the time when you were his father and not a black brother will be no more than a story to him. For now he still weeps for you. It does not seem to matter how many times I explain to him why you cannot return to us, he keeps asking.

Arya speaks treason even as I try to keep her from it. She does not see the danger, all she wants is her father. I wish she would stop, I try to berate her for it. I want her safe. Sansa is quieter. She has barely been speaking ever since she was released from the boy king’s court. I notice she weeps often even as she tries to hide it.

Bran has had strange dreams, dreams of ravens with too many eyes that tell him he can fly. I believe he mourns his legs and his ability to walk, though I cannot say. He rarely wants to speak with me and it pains me.

At times I feel anger at what you did, my love. Anger at that you could not for once turn a blind eye and return home instead of doing the just thing. That way my children would still have a father and I would still have a husband. I know you are not at fault, though you had a say in it and I did not. You acted alone and yet the children and I have to pay.

In my heart you will always be my husband. I wake every morning and look to my side, expecting to see you. The pain of seeing that my bed is empty except for myself never seems to lessen. I know you to be alive, still my entire being aches as if you were dead. My bedchamber has grown colder without you and Winterfell is less home.

I know I have most likely caused you further pain through this letter. That perhaps you had built a happy vision of us in your mind and I have now shattered it. I apologise for that, though I had to write. I could not stand to think our last interaction after so many years of marriage would take place in a brothel in King’s Landing, and that I would never be allowed to say a proper farewell. I say farewell now. I thank you for the years we had together. I thank you for the children you gave me, the lives we made together. I thank you for every smile, for every laugh. I thank you for the sleepless nights. I never thought myself to be the kind of woman to say these things, though in the end it seems I am.

I desperately wish you had acted differently so that it had not ended this way. I was not yet prepared, not in the least. You can be a fool at times. Perhaps one day you will wander south with your new brothers and I will be allowed to look upon your face once more. If not, then I hope to reunite with you in the life that comes after this. I will wait for however long it takes, as I have always done.

There are a thousand more things I would like to say and should we ever see each other again I will tell you as many as time allows. Though for now I will end this by urging Lord Commander Mormont, or whoever gets hold of this letter first, to let you read it. Eddard Stark will not desert even as I write him all this, he is too bound by duty and honour. He does not waver. I have both loved and despised him for it.

Now, Ned, should Benjen return I want you to tell him I send my warmest regards. Dream of me and the children instead of all the terrible things in the world. Avoid drowning in the darkness, I know you have close to that. Stay alive, defend the realm from what lies beyond, and I will manage Winterfell. I will be Lady Stark even as I am without my Lord Stark.

Yours forever, Catelyn





[spacecadetspe]

Apr. 23, 2025

I'm exhausted. I realize it's been over a month since I last posted, but if I'm honest, I've been exhausted and processing something rather elusive.

Athena took her power tripping a few steps too far. First, Hades' children made plans to reach out, trying to bridge the gap between their families. Athena's response was to effectively mandate that Hedate and Zagreus stay in Olympus for the foreseeable future.

It wasn't long after that the remaining Olympians began having nightmares. Athena started demanding that Hedate use her magic, much like her mother Hecate, to summon curses to affect each of the remaining Olympians in a plot to break them individually before having them swear their everlasting loyalty to Olympus.

She started reaching out and trying to do the same with me. It didn't work, and Hedate knew it wouldn't work, so Athena attempted to do it herself. She approached me while I was asleep and tried to break into my mind. Thankfully, I'm a light sleeper, so I burned the ever-loving shit out of her hands and arms for the breach in privacy.

She didn't stop, though. And I had headaches on and off for weeks. Hades was the only one who seemed mostly unaffected by her nonsense. That's probably because he's got his own sovereign kingdom now, and has three stars protecting him. So instead, she kidnapped his children. And of course, Hades came to me in a panic. Unfortunately, I was in too much pain during my period and with Athena's headaches to suffer through his panicking (damned empathy), and I had to block him for awhile just so I could rest.

This did not please him, obviously. After the last dream we shared, he apparently had an answer to my ultimatum, and was a bit miffed that I had turned him away. When I was feeling better, though, I went to see him. I apologized for being unavailable, and he understood. But when we got back around to the topic at hand, Hades knelt before me.

"My lady Hope, I request that you guide me through these turbulent times with gentle hands. I realize now that you are... a titan among gods. And I have not paid you proper tribute."

I was stunned. "Tribute? Hades..."

He raised a hand to stop me. "Please."

I nodded for him to continue.

"You've been kinder than I deserve, I think. These past few issues have been... jarring, to say the least, and I can see why other deities fear and respect you. But... I... took that for granted. I thought I was protecting you from evil by keeping you at bay, and I was a fool to think you needed protection." He reached up and took my hand, and then rummaged in his robes for a moment. He came with a massive gold and ruby ring. "What you really needed... was to be glorified." Instead of putting the ring on my finger, he placed in my palm and closed my fingers over it. "It will take time for me to become the man who truly deserves you... but I would be honored beyond words if you would continue to support me and my family... not as a patron, but as an honorary mother and consort."

I slowly reached down and stroked the hair off his brow, and raised his chin so that he turned his gaze up at me. "I would be happy to, Hades."

He stared at me for a few silent moments, and then heaved a ragged sigh and began to weep. He clung to my skirts as he let all those emotions go, and I finally knelt and pulled him into a warm embrace, letting him cry into my shoulder.

After a few more minutes, I led him over to his couch, where he lay down with his head in my lap and told me how worried he was about what was going on with his children and Athena. "That brat," he said. "With the size of her head, she could outgrow her helmet."

I was careful to remind Hades that while Athena is technically a lawyer, he is a judge. If anyone can stand up to Athena, it would be him.

Poseidon was the next to fall to Athena's scheming, and then Apollo. She even tried it with Hestia, though it wasn't nearly as severe.

Poseidon's hallucinations were of his and Demeter's daughter, Despoina, a product of rape and incest. And his mind refused to process the act fully until he accepted and admitted that what he had done was monstrous. The more he comes to terms with his actions and takes accountability, the less hold Athena would have over him.

All in all, a rough process.

Even with my help, Athena managed to summon all the Olympians to the throne to swear loyalty to Olympus. She tried to break me, but Ra (of all possible people) stepped in and spirited me away to his barque. I was able to watch the chaos from afar.

Turns out Athena was even more disturbed than we thought. She consumed vast amounts of Kykeon, creating an enormous mystery... and with her father's lightning, she intended to rip open a portal to the astral realm. She wanted to exert her authority by using this Mystery as an ultimate test. If her relatives lived, they would be astral guides bound to serve Olympus. If they died, then they would at least not be a threat to her rule.

But of course, Mother decided to step in. She gave me a piece of paper with a name written on it in High Remembrance, which I then handed to Hades. As he entered the tempest, and Athena opened the rift between Olympus and the Astral realm, Hades spoke the name, and Seraphiel, the Angel of the Lord, came down with thunder and lightning. Mother cackled and began writing in the stone of the dais; an ancient phrase that shall never be forgotten: "You have been weighed and found wanting." Mene mene tekel upharsin.

When Athena woke up, the room was empty except for herself and me. Seraphiel's voice was the only thing that lingered. "Behold, Athena," he stated, "Queen of nothing."

We had words. She wanted me to kill her. But it was too late. She was already dead. Hermes and Hades took her to the Underworld, where she was sentenced to be joined with her son Erichthonius and cast into the Reformatorium.

Even there, she caused a ruckus. She broke the atmosphere a couple times, and caused disturbances at least three times a day, giving Hades a headache. Kerberos had to go round up the souls that had escaped.

And then Hades disappeared. He handed the throne, the helm of invisibility, and the bident to Zagreus, and left.

Zagreus has been making significant changes since then, and the underworld is starting to look different. He joined me in trying to figure out why Athena was being so violent, and found she had two massive Algea in her mind, using her pure adrenaline and overstimulating her until she passed out from exhaustion. Phobetor invited himself to the party and got himself zapped a few good times. I let him stay over to heal, and that was better.

[deaconwords]

Perseverance and Birth Pangs

Last week we heard about Ruth, the faith-filled woman who refused to go back to Moab, but instead, followed her mother-in-law to Israel.

This week we have Hannah, the barren wife of the priest, Elkanah. As the story goes, Elkanah’s family, which was considerable, traveled each year from their hometown to worship and sacrifice to the Lord at Shiloh. And each year Elkanah’s second wife, Peninnah, would provoke and belittle Hannah on account of her barrenness.

Elkanah had married Hannah first, but when she was unable to give him children married Peninnah as well. Elkanah preferred Hannah, but his need to have children prompted him to get another wife and she bore them for him.

In today’s lesson, when Elkanah sees Hannah weeping and refusing to eat or drink he asks insensitive questions.

“Why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad?” And then the kicker, “Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

And with these questions left unanswered, Elkanah returns to his feast.

Elkanah isn’t helpful. His questions “Why do you weep? Why do you not eat?” And, “Why is your heart sad?” feign ignorance. He knows darn well the answers to these questions but he chooses to imply by asking them that Hannah is wrong about her own feelings, suggesting that her feelings are unfounded.

And then he makes it about himself when asking “Am I not more to you than ten sons?” As if she should be ashamed to feel as she does since he is so great and benevolent. She has it so good. Why can’t she just drop this whole sadness thing?

When Elkanah won’t listen, Hannah goes to the Lord and presents herself at the temple. And while her clan is feasting, consuming food and wine, she is pouring out her heart to God. She stands in the temple crying and mouthing her words in silence.

Eli, the temple priest, notices her. Prayers in the temple were ordinarily spoken aloud, but Eli cannot hear Hannah so he makes an incorrect assumption. He believes she is drunk.

Eli asks her, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.”

But she speaks up, breaks her silence, and corrects him, corrects the priest.

“No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”

To which Eli, having been put in his place, answers, “Go in peace, May the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.”

Hannah is unburdened. She returns to the family, eats a meal with her husband, and is no longer sad. She has turned over her troubles to God. She rests in God and trusts that God’s will will be done. She exercises her faith.

Last week, I visited an Episcopal woman in the hospital. She had suffered a relapse of cancer that she had beaten a few years back. And as she laid in her bed without any hair on her head I asked her for what we should pray. She said with assurance and confidence, “That God’s will be done.”

I smiled and we prayed as she had asked. We prayed too that we might learn, as had Ruth, and Hannah, to rest in God’s loving arms with the assurance that no matter what troubles we face we can do so as God’s children.

Ruth and Hannah, two faith-filled women who see and live in the deeper reality, that which when lived allows us to rest in God’s love with a confidence that beckons us to be God’s hands and feet in the world. Through her faith, Ruth became the great grandmother of King David. Hannah, by pouring herself out to God, rested in God’s love and gave birth to Samuel, the great prophet of Israel, who anointed King David and established him along the genealogical journey leading to Christ, the Lord.

May we too exercise such faith as these two women did. Through such faith truly marvelous things can be born in and through us. Amen.

—Offered at St. George’s Episcopal Church on 11-17-2024

[vallitemaiden]

It was good to take stock in how far one had come in life. Once upon a time, Mikoto had been nothing but a princess of a faraway kingdom, and after she lost her entire world —her family, her love, everyone she had ever known — she had still been blessed enough to be taken in by incredibly kind people who supported her and her child. When her friend Ikona passed away, it had felt wrong to marry Sumeragi, but he had insisted so that he could provide her protection. And so she became royalty once more, but more than that she had become a step-mother to all of her friend’s children. Ryoma, Hinoka, Takumi, Sakura: she would give her life for any of them as sure as she would have for her own child. Despite the hardships she had endured, those moments truly had been some of the happiest in her life. It was likely the last time she had been truly happy, because shortly after her child was kidnapped.

Anyone who knew Mikoto then, really knew her and not just the calm demeanor she put forward for the sake of others, knew the countless nights she spent weeping over her loss. Even after they brought Azura to Hoshido, the ache in her heart never waned. The sadness that hung over her was a cloud she couldn’t dismiss.

Many might expect that she would hate anyone from Nohr on sheer principle. Many probably likely wouldn’t hold it against her either, but Mikoto would hold it against herself. Nohr was as full with as many innocents as Hoshido was, which is why she had tried so hard to hold the peace as tensions rose between the two nations. And after what happened in Valla, she didn’t wish to see more war, more destruction. Maybe she should have acted or done something more. Maybe if she had, there wouldn’t be such tension now between her and Xander.

The two had been assigned together for a patrol through the territory of Varley. Her as a healer and Xander as the excursion’s leader. When they had been introduced upon his arrival to the monastery, it had been brief and little more than the two recognizing each other before he was shuffled off to a dozen other introductions and tasks that awaited him. Now he had been preoccupied with the patrol, leaving little time for the two to do more than nod cordially when they passed in camp. Mikoto was resolved to speak with him at some point, if nothing more than to clear the air between them.

Today, the group was traveling through a mountain pass. The past week had seen the horses getting increasingly spooked over seemingly nothing. Unable to determine a cause, the group continued on, hoping it was something about the area and that the horses would become calm as they moved. Instead, here among the misty passage with the mountains rising around them, the air of unease only reached a new height. The mists had hedged the group close together and the anxiety of horses and riders was palpable in the air.

Perhaps they should have expected it, but there was a sudden cry of surprise as one of the horses reared, standing back on its hind legs and neighing loudly. Its rider slipped from their saddle and tumbled to the ground. This single action set off a chain of reactions like a ripple in a pond. Horses were suddenly throwing their riders and scattering into the mists. Mikoto found herself tumbling to the ground, barely catching herself and then rolling to avoid the angry stamping hooves of her horse. Then it scattered to the winds too, her last sight of the beast being its tail as it disappeared into the mist.

Gathering herself, Mikoto looked up and around. She could feel her arm throbbing from where she landed, but was otherwise safe. She made to stand and then moved to the nearest person to check for wounds that would need healing.

Once the man was on his feet and looking better, if still a little dazed, Mikoto rose once more, but this time when she did she saw Xander standing among the group. The others were slowly rising and gaining their bearings. 

“If anyone needs healing, please come see me,” she implored. Mikoto moved among them, checking in on as many as she could before, one-by-one, their attentions turned toward Xander. 

@paragonknightxander

where evil lurks

mission board: distress | riding +1

[tojisun]

I saw that the requests are open :) how about toji who can't move on from his wife dying and then he gets a relationship with the reader (like a year or two) but like i said Toji can't move on so he sometimes cries in his sleep begging for his wife and he still wears his wedding ring, then the reader left and toji regrets it (change everything you want, it is an angst to fluff 'cause for the life of me I can't handle sad endings :)) thank youuu

HI! okay so i finally finished this request, im sorry it took so long. and now im sorry it turned out super long. i enjoyed writing this piece, thank you so much! i tweaked your request a bit so that it feels more comfortable writing it, i hope u like this <3

working title: between the pages

toji x fem reader

content warning: mamaguro had to be named and she is going by kaori in this fic, there is an oc who would appear quite often, book references, au - no curses, legal age gap, character death references. // word count: 7.1k

There is a saying stored somewhere in Kaori's books (those that Toji never really bothered to read until now) about misery.

He doesn’t quite recall how it goes so he spends his free time, and he has a lot of those these days, browsing the worn pages of each book that amass dust in her shelves to see if he could find it. Toji doesn’t know what it is that drives him to search for a measly quote or why he even wishes to know what it says. He wonders if this is all an empty motion—an attempt to drown out the pain and to forget about her absence. A routine that dulls the sorrow and mutes his senses.

Some days, he forgets that she is gone.

Most days, it is all that he could think about.

Then, Saturday morning, a minute before four a.m., Toji finds what he had been looking for.

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”

What a cruel thing to read.

───────────────

After Kaori’s funeral, the Fushiguros took most of her possessions with them, leaving only a select few that Toji had fought for.

They never really did like him for her, after all. Only Kaori’s mother, now an old weeping woman who is rendered ill after her daughter’s death, had been warm to Toji. Maybe because he was Kaori’s husband and she was her only daughter, the youngest of her eight children, which made her love Toji despite the sourness from her husband and her seven boys. Or maybe because she had seen the lovelessness that Toji had grown up in and wanted to be a mother for him too. Whatever the reason may have been, it had long sizzled out because Toji knows he’s failed her.

So when she sat him down, quiet and aching and mourning in a way Toji had never seen before, especially not from his own blood, Toji knew what she would ask from him. And he knew what was the right thing to say.

“Son, we’d like to bring the boy home with us.” Her voice was broken, exhausted, small and weak. She rubbed her aged hands together, refusing to meet Toji’s eyes. She smelt of anguish and guilt. Just like me, Toji thought.

“We’d love to raise him as our own. And I think that, well—Toji-kun, I think it’s what she would’ve wanted for him too.”

Toji’s breath hitched and his eyes began watering almost immediately. It was playing dirty; to bring Kaori’s name and her wishes as if a weapon that was forged against him.

But even if she was wrong and that Kaori would have never liked this, Toji knew that the boy would truly fare better with them, instead.

What could Toji give him other than heartache and his own shortcomings? How could he love their son when he could barely love himself? What—

What is there to live for without her?

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Did she get to name him?”

No, Kaori had not. She died too quickly, too soon, leaving Toji when their family was just completed. She had only glanced at the boy, tickling his thin hair and pressing a light kiss on his chubby cheek, and then she was gone.

No. Kaori was not given the privilege to.

So instead, Toji thought of the time in their living room, his wife sat by the open balcony doors to feel the brush of the wind as she rubbed her belly, humming a song to fill in the silence. Toji remembered how she had looked at him upon his entrance, beckoning him close to gently take his hands, shaky as they were, and press them flat onto her belly. Toji remembered the little kick that he felt through her skin, just a little nudge, and her giggles at Toji’s wide eyes.

“Our blessing,” she told him before smiling so full and bright and filled with so much life.

And Toji knew that was enough. For him, for her, and for their little baby. It was enough for a sentimental name, one that would allow Kaori’s memory to live on.

“Megumi. Kaori wanted to name him Megumi.”

His mother-in-law was quiet after that, and Toji wondered if she realized that she was taking the last of Kaori’s remnants from Toji’s life. Then, he wondered if that was truly the right call.

───────────────

Toji reads Kaori’s books religiously, chasing after the ghost she left in between the worn pages of her favourite books. He gets to know her again, relearning who she is through poems and prose, and putting together these new pieces—these glimpses of Kaori’s soul that she had left—in hopes of having more of her.

It is madness, some might say, but Toji thinks it is just his grieving.

The months crawl by, but they do move. There is a quote somewhere in her books about these slow hours, and Toji pretends that he does not have it memorized in spades.

“That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.”

The words come to Toji like the wind; plain and unseeing, but irrevocably heart-wrenching. Is this what she wanted to happen when she left those books? To have Toji be haunted by words that should not have made sense, as if they are lifelines that he is desperately clutching onto because what else of her is left for him if not those?

“You left me,” he says, tracing her name chiselled amongst the others in the Fushiguro family grave. “You said,” his voice hitches, “you said that we’d raise Megu—the boy together. Then you went back on your word and left us both.”

The wind blows and the leaves rustle, and Toji has never felt more alone in this world.

“How do I live without you?”

There is no reply. There hasn’t been one for a year now.

Toji waits, straining his ears because maybe some superstitions are right. Maybe the wind does carry her voice and maybe then she will finally answer him. Maybe there is something to be heard in the cemetery. Maybe her ghost is beside him, after all.

But there is nothing. Toji stands up and leaves.

───────────────

He finds their picture tucked in one of her older books. The pages of this one are frayed and bent, as though it had been drenched in water and despite the careful fixing, it never really did get restored. But he knows this book: it’s the one she’s always held close to her being. A favourite, perhaps, or a carrier of sentimental values, those that date even before meeting Toji.

He never really got around to reading it then—the wound was too fresh, too deep—afraid that if he were to finish the book, then it was like the last piece of Kaori was truly gone.

But tired from work and jittery from pain, Toji flips the book open. Then, that is where he sees it. An old photo of them together, taken from one of those cheap photo booths that she had forced him into.

In the picture, Kaori had her head resting on Toji’s shoulder who encircled his arms around her, tucking her underneath his chin. Toji remembers pressing her impossibly closer, snuggling her on his chest because Toji wanted a reminder. Wanted proof that he is loved and spoken for.

He gingerly plucks it from in between the pages, stroking a finger at Kaori’s smiling face.

(He willed himself not to read what was on the page, but his eyes were faster than his mind. “I want you to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like—.”

Toji tears his eyes away, focusing on Koari’s picture instead.)

Toji never really forgot her face, gods he doesn’t know if he ever will, but it’s been too long since Toji had seen her look so alive. He studies her face, trailing his eyes at her smile and at the crinkles at her eyes and at the shimmer of her lips and at the rose of her cheeks, and sears it all to his memory.

A choked sob makes its way from his throat.

He flips the picture, remembering Kaori scribbling something at the back and—yeah, there it is.

In careful hiragana, Kaori wrote, “My love and I.”

“Fuck,” Toji whispers and the tears come easily, painful sobs wrenching themselves from his throat as he drowns at the sorrow once again.

───────────────

It’s been three years (six months and nineteen days) since Kaori’s death, and Toji still thinks there is not much left to live for himself.

Stumbling to survive, he has long given up on trying to find a semblance of joy, a sliver of hope, in this lonely world.

Kaori’s mother stopped giving him updates about Megumi (sometimes, saying his name hurts Toji in ways he cannot explain; it’s like being reminded of what was taken from him, what is irrevocably gone), and Toji tries to pretend that he understands why. Granted the boy was not told of his existence, but Toji thinks he still deserves to know even a glimpse of his son’s life. Of Kaori’s son. But they have changed their numbers and cleansed themselves of Toji, leaving him to mourn on his own once again.

He flips a page.

“Is that Sputnik Sweetheart?”

Toji peers up from his lashes to look at you, seeing awe sparkling in your eyes as you sweep a look at the book in his possession. Selfishly, he wished that no one else had read Kaori’s books; that these are something only she and Toji knew, a secret they share, a language no one else can decipher.

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Read it?”

“Me? Nah,” you say, chuckling. “Could never really go through Murakami’s books, they’re too long and loaded.” He smiles at that, thinking, yeah, they are. He’s always wondered how Kaori ever finished them so quickly when Toji is lumbering page to page, rereading certain passages just to fully soak them in. “My ex loved them though, s’why I could recognize that,” you add.

He grunts. You tilt your head at the empty seat in front of him. “Can I?”

He casts a quick glance at the cafe, brows furrowing at seeing how packed it had gotten, before turning to you and nods.

“Sweet,” you say, collapsing at the chair and sagging in comfort.

Toji takes that time to study you. You are years younger than him, that’s the first thing he notices. Maybe ten or so years younger? You look like it. You’re short too. Well, shorter than him. You look tired; haggard in a way that he only remembers seeing from Kaori, back when she was still in college and cursing her professors. Then there’s this aching in your eyes that Toji doesn’t want to acknowledge, doesn’t want to see lest he is reminded of himself. It was this type of longing trapped in your eyes that never seemed to have healed, just dampened. It was there when you were talking about your ex, a heavy feeling that you pushed away quickly. But Toji has familiarized himself with the flickering sorrow.

He knows. You’ve lost someone too, huh?

“So how far along are you in that book?” You ask, shrugging your winter jacket off and hanging it on your chair.

“Finished it.” Toji picks up his coffee and sips to avoid saying more, but you smile at him, undeterred, and go back to fixing yourself up, unwrapping your scarf to let it hang loosely around your shoulders instead.

“Must be a good book if you’re rereading it,” you say, chuckling lightly. He gives another grunt before turning back to his book, and he sees you shrug from his peripheral, not taking offence at his dismissal.

Not that he cares, but there is nowhere else Toji can go to right now. Snow began pattering outside the cafe, and despite that the streets are still busy and full of people, and home is—there hasn’t been a place like home for him anymore. So he is grateful for your polite conversation, but he is more thankful for your silence. It seems like you two need solace, after all.

He returns to his book and you start fumbling about in your laptop before pulling out textbooks and notebooks and cleanly piling them on your side of the table. Your coffee (iced caramel latte, too sweet and kind of impractical for the cool weather) has begun perspiring as you lose yourself in your work, forgetting about your drink, and Toji pretends that he is not watching you from the corners of his eyes. He pretends that seeing you work does not feel like coming close to normalcy again.

There is an hour left before the shop closes, but Toji packs up to return to his apartment. You look up at his clamour before returning to your notes, notebooks sprawled open as if it was not enough that you have your laptop with you. He walks to the trash and dumps his empty coffee cup before sliding to the door. He pauses. Then he walks back to you again.

You look up once more upon hearing his steps, confusion clouding your gaze as you tilt your head in wonder. He speaks before you could. “Good luck with your work,” he says. He hovers, waiting.

“Oh,” you utter, confused. “Thank you?” You phrase your reply like a question and Toji’s lips quirk in amusement. He nods, a silent goodbye, then he walks out, this time for real.

Before rounding the corner, he turns to cast a quick glance at the shop again and feels a quiet type of elation when he sees you looking back at him. He raises a hand—another goodbye; he wonders what prompted it—before turning at the corner and disappearing completely from your view. He wonders if you mirrored his silent farewell.

He thinks you did.

───────────────

He returns to the cafe two weeks later.

It is late and the wind is a lot more biting, stinging his ears and nose. Toji’s face scrunches when he finally makes it to the shop, breathing in the familiar smell of coffee beans and too-sweet pastries. It’s quite packed again, everyone milling about to avoid the winter winds.

Then, he sees you.

Much like before, you are sitting at the same table, on the same chair. Your books are open again, this time you are scribbling in your notebook instead of typing away in your laptop. Your coffee cup—you’re still drinking iced coffee, it seems—is empty, leaving a mix of melting ice and cream-coloured leftover brew.

He turns to the cashier and orders two coffees, one hot and one iced, for him and for you. Toji tries not to think about the impulsive decision he made, choosing instead to bask in the warmth of the shop as he waits for the barista to finish up with his order. He does not notice it, but his eyes stray and linger on you, watching the way your hair curls behind your scarf and the way your back slouches deeper every time you write.

He huffs a humoured laugh when you thump your head on the table, hand fisted around your pen looking as if you have given up. Just like Kaori before, he thinks.

He pauses, dread filling up his heart. No. No.

When his name is called, Toji grabs his order and briskly walks out the door. Only when he is close to the train station does he realize that he is still holding onto the iced coffee. Toji throws it in the nearby trash can and scurries off into the platform.

───────────────

He visits Kaori’s grave.

It feels wrong, somewhat. It feels like he came to her because he is guilty. Guilty of thinking of another woman, guilty of comparing her to someone else. He places the flowers on the stone, but it just feels like an apology. Like an excuse. He tries forming words in his mouth, but they all burn at his throat and leave him empty.

Toji doesn’t quite know what to call the feeling—lies, Toji hears himself rebut, you know what it is—he just wants to unlatch it from his being and discard it away. He would rather feel hollow than feel this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but he cannot find it in himself to say what he is sorry for.

He watches as the snow piles up on the stone, dropping onto the flowers that he brought and clumping together with no abandon. There is a certain silence in the cemetery, but Toji welcomes it, anyway. It allows his veins to simmer and it lays the paths for Toji’s mind to wander.

He finds that he often loses himself in this place, almost like a plea for Kaori to come and take him with her.

Toji hears the crunching of snow as tiny shuffles make their way close to Kaori’s grave, and he waits for them to move away and skirt around him but they don’t. Instead, the padding of boots stops a few feet away from Toji, almost hesitating in the way they hover at his right. Curious, he looks up and sees you.

“Oh,” he hears you say, blinking at him, your soft voice tinged with surprise. “It’s you!”

He chuckles before he can stop himself. “Yeah. It’s me.”

There is a pause as you figure out if you were to stay or walk away, unsure if it is overstepping if you inquired any more of his time there or if it is rude to just continue on your way. Toji sees these thoughts dance across your face, his scarred lips tugging up in amusement (endearment), so he makes the choice for you.

“Visiting someone?” Toji asks and urges you to come closer. You take gentle steps, careful and quiet as you move to stand beside him.

He sees you eye the Fushiguro’s grave, reading all the different names carved on the stones. Toji wonders if you’ve seen Kaori’s name and just knew that the other half of his soul, the better half, is now dust.

“Yeah,” you finally say. He blinks when you utter a name he doesn’t recognize.

“What?”

“That’s, uh, that’s my name? We never really got to introduce ourselves last time,” you reply, scratching your cheek, embarrassed.

Toji grunts in understanding. “Fushiguro Toji.”

You turn to the grave in question. Toji shakes his head. “I’m visiting my wife.” You make a low noise at the base of your throat, nodding your head slowly.

He clears his throat. “How about you?”

Then there is this wobbly smile on your face and Toji thinks, I know how it feels.

───────────────

There was a man sitting at your usual table, grumpy as he flipped a page from a book that you are too familiar with.

(Flashes of Teruma’s bright orange hair danced across your irises, and for a moment it was like he was there with you again.

“Baby!” He would call you as he always had, and you would be weak on your knees because he’s alive, alive, alive.)

There’s a scar at the corner of the man’s mouth, long enough that it spanned both of his lips, and he oddly looked good with it, you thought. Then you remembered that it is rude to stare at people and so you forced your eyes to meet his, and saw pools of green flaked with glitters of gold. He was reluctant to allow you to sit with him.

That’s fine, you just wanted to get through your Geography homework, anyway.

He didn’t speak much, choosing to read his book again. Likewise, you zoned into your work and focused in earnest. Time trickled and ran, but every flip of a page from the man’s book sent you reeling back in time.

(Cheeky smiles and rough palms.

“I’ll come back soon,” is whispered on your lips.

“Okay,” you kissed back.

But he never did.).

When the man wished you well with your work before ambling away, you could not help the way your lips stretched into a smile.

What a gentle giant he was.

. . . . . . . . . . .

A couple weeks later, you saw Gentle Giant again. You saw his mirage from your spot, and you watched as he walked away from the shop, his steps looking rushed and almost frantic. The two cups of coffee in his hands sloshed at his brisk movements, and you just wished that whatever he was speed-walking to was worth him spilling his drinks.

Belatedly, you wondered if the other cup was for someone else.

You stared at his quickly retreating back until he rounded the corner, and disappeared from your vantage completely. Then, you turned back to your godforsaken paper, cursing your professors and the educational system.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Gentle Giant’s name is Toji, and he lost his wife. He hasn’t told you much, but you still want to tell him about Teruma. So you do.

You tell him about the boy who you’ve loved for six years, two of which were spent loving his ghost. You tell him about the breakup, the mutual understanding shared between you two before he went to Detroit. You tell him about Teruma apologizing, about you saying it is okay. Then, shakily, you tell him about the plane crash, the one that was on the news two years ago. You tell him about the funeral held for the boy whose body they never recovered.

“I was gonna marry him,” you say. “I was so sure that I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him.”

Toji does not mention the tears on your cheeks or the way your breath hitches or the tremble of your hands. He does not offer apologies or any placation, and you know it is his kindness. Silent, like everything else about him.

───────────────

Toji tells you about Kaori. He thinks it is to make it fair, after all you told him about Teruma, but really, he just wants to let the pain out. He sees how light you have felt after, and Toji yearns to feel that free. There is an aching in his heart that has festered and aged, and Toji wants, even for a bit, to let go. So he does, and he starts by telling you about his wife.

Toji loses himself in the memories, closing his eyes as he relives his moments with Kaori. It’s been years but she is still bright in his mind, concrete and alive, almost as if Toji could just reach out and feel her warmth again. Anguish thrums in his veins as he tells you about their son, but he bulldozes through because he wants the good memories. There is no more of Megumi that Toji could call his own, so Toji traces Kaori’s books, instead, and tells you their significance.

This is when Toji feels you come alive, springing like a bud and uncurling outward to meet him in his ramblings. You pipe in about Murakami’s books, excited and nostalgic at the same time. He tells you about Kaori’s frustrations—“Too much open-ending, apparently.”—and you tell him about Teruma’s—“He calls them poetry.”—and Toji feels like he’s found a kindred in your aching soul.

The ghosts surrounding you two must think you guys are fools; to be licking each other’s wounds as you recount your lives with your beloved. But so be it, Toji thinks, because he’s finally found a semblance of peace in his life.

He thinks of Sputnik Sweetheart, how this all started, and he remembers: “It came to me then. That we were wonderful travelling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits.”

How fitting, isn’t it?

───────────────

It becomes a regularity for you and Toji to meet in the cafe, Murakami’s books in his hands and your textbooks (and notebooks and laptop) in yours.

The meetups start quietly, letting the tension bleed out and allowing comfort to seep through. Then the greetings come, these ones more genuine. You share something about your life, and Toji listens. He is more reserved, only saying things that have no follow up questions, but it seems you do not care about his plans because you always find a way to make him speak more.

Often, Toji finds his voice wearing down after those meet-ups with you, and he does not remember a time after Kaori when he’s spoken this much. He feels elated, alive, and living.

Sometimes, it’s still a struggle to go about life without Kaori.

Sometimes, he forgets it as long as he’s with you. And if that isn’t terrifying.

He learns who you are past the stress of university exams and incoherent cursing at whoever pissed you off at work. He unveils your person deeper, seeing what you’ve become after trying to heal around Teruma’s passing. Toji sees someone who he wants to be like.

You laughed when Toji uttered this to you. “I’m a mess, Toji-san!” You said, clutching your stomach as laughter pittered off from your throat. That’s another thing that Toji learns about you: you say his name like it is milk gliding at your tongue.

“I di’n say you ain’t,” he remembers answering. I just want to feel more than sorrow, he added as an afterthought. He wonders if you knew what he wanted to say back then.

It seems like you always do.

───────────────

Spring air turns a lot hotter, welcoming summer earlier than anyone has anticipated. The only good thing that came out of the upcoming humid season are the flowers that grow in bigger and cheaper bundles.

He grabs white chrysanthemums for Kaori, you brought Teruma orange gerberas.

There are more people in the cemetery these days, plucking out weeds and cleaning their family graves as they welcome the new season. Toji helps you clean Teruma’s and you both hover at Kaori’s, offering a short prayer.

“Who knows?” You begin as Toji walks you to the station. He lives on the other side of the city, but it is still too early and Toji doesn’t want to be alone again. Not yet. “Maybe Kaori-san and Teru are reading Murakami’s books wherever they are right now.”

Toji snorts. “You believe in the afterlife?” He pushes his hair back, noting that it’s grown longer again and that he needs to cut it soon.

You shrug, humming quietly, and looking away when Toji meets your eyes. “I’d like to think that there is a better place for the dead. That there’s a place where the people we love are happier. Because why else would they leave us, you know?”

Toji blinks, quiet and stunned. Then, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

And it sounds a lot better, kinder, than what Toji used to believe in. Because if there is an afterlife, then surely Kaori is at peace and she is happy and she is no longer hurting.

So maybe, with this in mind, maybe Toji can begin letting go. Because if Kaori is in a better place, then maybe Toji doesn’t need to be haunted anymore.

(Because if Kaori is happy then maybe he can be too—)

───────────────

A year and a half spent with you, chasing away each other’s loneliness and submerging yourselves in books that are left behind by your most precious ones, has passed when you tell him that you love him.

Toji turns to you in surprise, watching the blush on your cheeks as you stop walking, waiting for his answer. Your eyes are steady as they gaze back onto him, your face schooled into a mask. He notes the falling leaves around you two and the wind that blows from his back and the way your hair sweeps away from your face and how you tremble, having always been weak to the cold.

His first thought is, You look good even in autumn.

Then his next is, I know.

“Are you asking me out?” Toji finally asks, grimacing when his voice breaks at the end, and swallowing to dislodge the lump stuck in his throat.

You shrug, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and Toji watches, mesmerized. “If you want,” you say. “I mean, if you want to be in a relationship with me, that’s great. If you don’t, that’s fine for me too, Toji-san, we can just remain as friends. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. Have been in love with you.” You coughed, blushing and looking away, shy all of a sudden.

There is strength in your voice that Toji cannot seem to shake.

(Later, when he looks back on this day, Toji will recognize that it is fortitude; it is courage that you have gathered in your arms and had lain in front of him, asking him to make a choice. Asking him to choose you.)

And he thinks that he’s known this day would come. He’s waited for this day to come. But Toji knows his faults, he has known them before any other could. For many nights that he was sleepless, Toji spent the time tracing the fractures in his being and knowing that there is something wrong with him. That there is something he cannot get through, something he cannot let go.

“I don’t think I can ever forget her,” he tells you, honest and broken.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you answer. “I don’t think we can love wholly again, but I still want to try with you.”

Oh, Toji thinks, you understand. You understand in ways no other had, in ways no one was willing to, and Toji thinks that maybe that is enough: that he’d feel safe in your arms and that he’d get to be happy again and that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. And he wants to. With you.

So he trudges close to where you stand, where you wait for him, and clasps his hand with yours and shyly says, “Please take care of me.”

And when you send him a smile, the one that has always been for him, Toji wills his heart to calm down.

───────────────

Nothing changes much between you two, except for the relearning of boundaries and stumbling into new ways of expressing the bubbles in your hearts, the ‘I love yous’ that are echoed. Sometime back then, Toji thought that he was doing something wrong—it was a relationship unlike Kaori’s, yes that he knew, but it was also different from all the others—until you eased his worries and told him, in an utterly fond voice, that your shared love parallels a friendship that is eons stronger.

“As long as you’re happy,” you said to him, holding onto his hands as you two lined up to pay for the bouquets, lilies for Kaori and freesias for Teruma.

“I am,” Toji replied before he leant down to press a soft kiss at the crown of your head. “And you?”

You craned your neck to look up at him, your smile wide and genuine, and whispered, “With you? Always.”

Toji’s heart swells at the memory.

Loving you, Toji thinks, is easy and light. It is built on trust and friendship and camaraderie, bearing a depth that no one seems to truly understand. A depth that people often passed off as being each other’s rebound, each other’s second choice. But neither you nor Toji think of your relationship this way.

Not when love brims from your lips, pouring your heart out with each kiss, each confession, all of which Toji reciprocates. Being with you is like finding light in the darkness, like feeling hope after the chaos, like being home once again. But it is also like a dandelion amidst the grass or a mug tucked at the very back of the cupboard; like slotting himself by your side feels natural and just right.

───────────────

There is a sound that tickles your senses, one that you try to bat away but it comes with vengeance. It starts off quiet, a whimper, and you try to drown it back, turning to sleep once again. But the sound grows louder, more desperate, more hurt, and there is nothing else for you to do but jolt awake, gasping as if you were submerged in water.

You think you dreamt of Teruma—orange hair, rough palm against your cheek, a static voice announcing a series of names, the feeling of dread, then, the dropping agony at hearing his—but the recollection fades as you turn to Toji, seeing him weeping at his sleep.

He is haunted—like me, you think, like me—and you crawl close to him, urgency steeping in your veins. “Toji-san?” You call. He whimpers but does not stir, and he turns his head away, his face scrunching in pain.

You caress his cheeks, hands gentle despite their tremors. “Toji-san,” you say, panic clouding your voice. “Come back to me, please.”

Please, Kaori-san, give him back to me.

Toji does not wake, curling on himself, instead, as tears continue to run down his cheeks. You do not let him go, voice washing over him even when he cannot hear you. You try shaking him and slapping at his shoulders, hoping the pain that his body feels is stronger than that of his heart. But you know. You know he is there, seeing Kaori leave again.

Toji continues to slip deeper into his dreams, lost and hurting. “You are okay,” you whisper, pressing kisses at his closed eyes, willing them to finally open. “You’ve been doing better, so come back here, Toji-san. To me. With me, like always.”

It takes a few more torturous minutes before he gasps awake and sits upright, his hand clutching where his heart rests. He wheezes, gulping air hungrily, before choking on a sob. He turns to you, calls your name in a quiet voice that breaks your heart, and you open your arms, not trusting your voice to comfort him. He collapses onto you, pressing his face on your shoulder as he wails, shaking, clutching you tighter as if afraid that you too will leave him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you reply. “You’re okay.”

Toji shakes his head, but he does not say anything else and lets the silence go on as he holds you close. You don’t mind, choosing to run your fingers through his hair, and letting him come back down from his dreams.

“What if we’d never work out because I’m not—I still remember her. Sometimes, I still miss her,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

You flinch and Toji must have felt you tense because he pulls back from your arms, sliding until he is sitting in front of you. He ducks his head when he sees the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. There is silence between you two, letting his words stew. You inhale sharply when his hand twines with yours, tugging, almost begging.

You sigh from your nose. “What do you want to do, Toji-san?”

“I’m sorry,” is what he says instead.

You shake your head. “Tell me. Let’s talk this through.”

He slumps forward, bowing down into himself. Your hand twitches, wanting to pull him in an embrace again, but you take his silence and allow him space.

“I love you,” he begins, voice steady and sure, and your heart flutters. I know, you want to say, but you see how he tests out the words on his tongue, hesitant and stiff, and so you wait. He squeezes your hand. Thank you.

“I'm terrified. Darling, I love you but why can’t I let go of the pain? It’s like, I allow myself to be happy but then I remember her and then I miss her all over again.” He sighs, almost a hiss, and he lets one of your hands go to push his hair back, agitated. “And I want you with me, god knows I don’t want to let you go. But am I worth it?”

You huff a humourless laugh. “Always.”

“Baby—”

“No,” you interrupt, “Toji-san, listen to me. You are always worth it, worth my love.” His breath hitches at your words and you smile as he pulls you close again, this time sitting you on his lap. You sweep his hair away from his face and plant a kiss on his forehead, and another, and another. Precious kisses for your most precious person. “So worth my everything,” you mutter.

Toji hugs you tighter and rests his head at the crook of your neck. His big hands envelop your back and you feel so small like this, as if Toji could just tuck you close in the pocket of his chest, in his heart. At the same time, Toji looks so vulnerable. Shaken. Afraid. Your Gentle Giant folded so close to you, almost as if begging you to tell him why he should stay—

Your mind screeches to a halt. Oh, Toji-san.

“I dreamt of Teru tonight,” you start, clearing your throat when your voice shatters. Toji doesn’t move, but you know he’s listening. He always does. “I dreamt about him a few nights ago too. There are days when I miss him too much that I forget he’s gone. Then there are days that it’s all I could remember. Four years of being with him doesn’t just go away, it seems. He is seared into my memories, after all.”

The more you spoke, the more Toji tenses, freezing as if he could see where you are going with this. By the end of it, his head hovers in front of you, eyes searching for something within yours. He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and you nuzzle his palm, resting your smaller hand on top of his.

You are almost breathless when you continue, as if desperate and frantic. “But it doesn’t mean I love you any less, Toji-san. I miss Teru, but I love you. And for me, that is enough.” You whimper when he brushes a stray tear away from your cheeks. “And I need to know if you feel the same, Toji-san.”

You barely got the last of your words out before Toji is pulling you in for a kiss, warm lips meeting yours in a heated tangle. He pulls and pulls, pressing you impossibly close, his touch scorching your skin as he devours your doubts away, and you know, there and then, that he loves you just as much.

When you pull back, gasping, Toji touches his forehead with yours. “I do,” he says, voice as broken as yours. He says your name, then “I love you so.”

He kisses you again, this time slower but not any less intimate. “‘M sorry for what I said,” he whispers. “‘M sorry, my love.”

You kiss his cheeks and his nose, skirting away from his lips, and quietly giggling as you press a kiss on his chin instead. “I’m okay,” you say. “We’re okay.”

He hums, low and soft. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply. You grin. “‘And this love is about to carry me off somewhere.’”

He chokes on a laugh, one that you note is fond, after recognizing the reference. “It’ll carry you to me, hopefully,” he says cheekily and kisses you once again. You laugh, carefree and happy, as if a load has finally been lifted off your chest.

───────────────

Teruma’s death anniversary is today.

Toji knew even before he opened his eyes, sensing the ache in the air even before he could look at you. Toji turns to your side of the bed, not surprised to see it empty. He fumbles for his phone, checks the time, and stands up to prepare for the day.

He quickly leaves the apartment and speedwalks all the way to the flower shop. A worker greets him the moment the wind chimes sound, smiling as Toji makes his way to the counter. The owner looks up from his flower arrangements and sends Toji a smaller smile upon seeing him. Toji buys carnations and baby’s breaths, and walks out the door after telling the man that yes, Toji would greet you for him.

He takes the train and doesn’t bother with all the stares that people give him, tracing, instead, the familiar route toward the cemetery. He quickens his steps, almost jogging with how fast he is moving, sincere in his desperation to be with you through this.

When Toji gets to you, you are muffling your cries behind your palms, shaking as if you are about to collapse. He rushes to your side, afraid that you will, and you startle, turning to him. Toji’s heart breaks at the grief painted on your face, and he pulls you in for an embrace before you could utter a sound.

The flowers in his hand jostle and some of the petals fall, but Toji doesn’t spare them a thought as he rests a hand on your head and wishes that this helps even for a bit.

“I’ve got you,” Toji says. “I’ve got you.”

───────────────

“I’m home! Anyways, look what I found!” You scream as soon as you arrive, and Toji blinks at your excitement.

“Welcome back,” Toji greets, smiling fondly as you jump beside him, plopping yourself so close to him. You pull your bag to your lap, fumbling about, before pulling a worn book.

“I found this in the thrift store,” you say, showing him the book excitedly, lips stretched into a wide grin. “I wasn’t gonna buy it, but look.”

You flip at the pages before thrusting the old book under Toji’s nose. He picks it up, confused as to why you were showing him a book you know he’s read already, but then he catches sight of it.

“Is this—”

“It is!”

“And it was just in the thrift store?” Toji asks, still not looking away from Murakami’s autograph.

You laugh, nodding your head frantically. “Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “Thought you’d love it.”

Toji turns to you and grins. “Well, I love everything you give me.”

“Aww, Toji-san! You’re such a sap!”

He rolls his eyes goodheartedly. “And you’re such a brat.”

“Mhmm. But you still love me, anyway.”

Toji smiles and finally, finally, pulls you in for a kiss. Then, “That I do, baby.”

(book references, order based on appearance):

1Q84, 1Q84, Norwegian Wood, Sputnik Sweetheart, Sputnik Sweetheart — all are written by Haruki Murakami

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴀ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ’ꜱ ɪɴꜱᴛɪɴᴄᴛ | ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ; ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ!ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ x ᴅᴇᴍɪ ɢᴏᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ⚠️NSFW [19+]⚠️

Heyoooo!!! It’s been a second hasn’t it? Lololol my bad uwu;; I’ve been doing a lot drawing lately, so I’ve been focusing a lot on that instead of writing— mainly since it requires less brain power for me SKKSSKSK anywho, in celebration of crowning Zhongli in game, I’ve decided to sin—- after talking with Admin T for a bit LOLOL thus, another Femdom fic is born SKSKSK 

As always, thank you all so much for the love and support~! We really appreciate it~!

Art is from my Art Blog: @ko-ffeine​

TW: BDSM ; Chains ; Flogging ; Overstimulation ; Blindfolds ; Shackles ; Collars / Leashes ; Muzzles ; Bondage / Restraints ; Riding ; Face Sitting ; Marking ; Vibratiors ; Breath Play

》》Admin Ko

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Decades. It had been decades since her arrival to Teyvat. Thinking back to it, (y/n) hadn’t even realized the bonds she’s made after awakening in the depths of Dragonspine. Though it was best for her to not dwell on the past. After all, she learned early on with her revival that sticking to the past only brought unwanted trouble. 

The sound of chains clattering against marble awoke her out of her thoughts as she peered back to the bundle of chains on all fours. A long scaly tail whipping back and forth impatiently as heated glowing amber orbs bore deeply into her own (e/c) ones. 

“Morax…”

A soft sigh escaped her as she made her way over to the former archon. The loose hanfu that danced along her smooth skin had the dragon keen in want. The metal cage strapped to his mouth prevented his fangs from sinking into her supple flesh. The desire to mark and claim what was rightfully his was strung up high in his head as he strained against the enchanted chains that bound his wrists together. The hefty weight of the gold collar around his throat only further added  to his inability to surge forward as the chain attached to the device around his throat only allowed him so much distance. 

“You were being so good earlier. What’s gotten you riled up?”

Though soothing in tone, (y/n)’s expression was anything but as she marveled at the way the Geo Archon was presented before her. The night before his heat had gotten a hold of him, he had given her permission to be just as rough with him to ensure her safety—- and well, she wasted no time in taking advantage of the opportunity presented to her. 

In a flurry of motions she had skillfully wrapped the archon’s body in beautiful golden ropes. Each one accentuating the toned muscle from eons of war and battles. The delicious flush of red that painted his skin as she continued to further restrain the male only set her belly a flame. 

After all, the initial restraints were only mild. It wasn’t until the late evening did she realize how intensive she had to truly restrain her lover. Enchanted chains shackled him down. A leather muzzle had initially been placed to keep him from biting her, but was quickly forgone as he had ruined that within the span 15 minutes. Thus resulting in the current metal cage that adorned his haughty features. 

The collar and leash combo? That had only occurred when she had attempted to leave for the bathroom— only to be slammed into the floor with a lustful dragon dry humping against her as he snarled and growled at the fact he wasn’t able to sink his teeth into her flesh. 

The end resulted in the intensive flogging that only further fueled both party’s lust. 

“Little one~….”

A pang of warmth hit her as she broke out of her memories from last night to meet his impatient amber orbs.

“I should’ve attached the one with the bar in between just so you wouldn’t distract me.”  

Shaking her head, she made her way over to the male, and once she was within reach his tail immediately latched onto her leg. Easily trailing up to press against her cunt as he fervently surged forward to press himself against her. Yet of course, due to the damn muzzle in his way he could only be tantalizingly a breath away from his goal. 

The pressure his cock held did little to alleviate the pain as the desire to breed into her deeply sprang forth.

A hefty growl came from him as he pushed her even more until she tumbled onto her back. The morning sun only added to the ethereal effect as he pressed himself as close to her as he could. 

“Let me fuck you, Little one…wanna breed you until you’re full of my seed…bearing my children…”

A blush dusted across her features as he continued on before he was suddenly yanked back. A choked gasp came from him as he struggled against the Dendro vines that appeared as the vineyard appendages held him still. Each intimately wrapping around him to keep him seated in a frog tie. The leash having been jerked enough to keep him still as he let out a garbled growl.

“So feisty…this is getting interesting little one…”

“I think it’s time for you to stop talking Morax. I’d rather hear the sounds you truly want to make.”  

“Oh ho? How do you plan on doing that?” 

Taunting and ever so prideful, the mighty dragon refused to back down as he strained to get as close to her as he could. Her nearing form did little to deter the desire to fuck her thoroughly. Though before he could even do much the vines came forth to hold his head still. Smaller ones easily kept his lips open as he struggled to chomp and tear the greenery away. Yet with this, he failed to notice her swiftly remove the muzzle before replacing it with a strong and sturdy ring gag. His mouth now forcibly open as drool began escaping down his chin. 

“Haaah?”

“Not so tough now huh? Like the chains, my lovely Archon, this was also enchanted~. I had the chance to put some of my former power into this device. So I’m confident that it won’t break~.”

Grinning, she watched as the funeral consultant tested the new device before grunting as a flare of his nostrils showed his displeasure in the newly placed device.

“Now that that has been settled, I do believe you should be put to use.” 

A guttural sound of confusion came from Zhongli before darkness overcame him. Leafs? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his sense of touch was beginning to heighten and his sense of smell was driving him over the wall as he could practically taste how wet her cunt was. 

Almost as if a learned reaction, the dragon’s tongue fervently searched for her as he reached out. His once ‘normal’ tongue now long and thick as his fangs extended ever so slightly over the metal ring of the gag. Freedom from the device was so close, yet as this occurred…

“Guh?! Haah..nnn ”

The metal shifted to accommodate the change Zhongli brought on; and as if to spite him, the device seemed to meld to form a stricter grasp around his face as a metal band formed over his nose bridge, further enforcing the fact that the device was not coming off.

“Ahhh, is, ish nah wha ah wha—ed” 

“Oh? You’ll have to use your words more clearly, love~”

Her tone only further fanned the flames of lust in his belly as he continued to obscenely drool all over the marble floors. Though his attempts at reprimanding her were stilled as he let out a muffled grunt before an animal like moan and growl tore through his throat as he finally got a taste of her juices. 

Oh how he wished to sink his claws into her supple flesh. Mark the terrain with his love bites and scent. Yet with all the restraints scattered about his body, all he could do was eagerly lap at her pussy with his tongue to the best of his abilities. 

And by the sounds she was making, he was doing quite the job. Easily, with his long tongue he teased and taunted her slick walls. All of her weak points, the secret little motions that he knew brought her immense pleasure. 

Though (y/n) couldn’t see it, she knew that her lover’s eyes had rolled up into his head. Especially when she could feel his tongue stutter as she not only buried his face into her wet cunt, but as the heel of her foot began to grind on his weeping cock. 

Muffled moans and grunts came from the man eating her pussy as he strained against the various layers of restraints she bestowed upon him. Just the very sight of him dressed in her materials had her groaning before cumming against the male’s face. 

As she stepped back, she couldn’t help but admire the state she left her lover in. Panting, drooling with a dash of her cum splattered in and an angry red cock. 

A sadistic cord snapped within her as she cupped his cheek. 

“Mmmm…you’re my good boy, aren’t you Morax?”

“..h-haaah?”

“If you can handle my game well, you can fuck me and fill me with your seed~.”

The mere mention of being able to sheath himself into her had the dragon’s tail whipping back and forth quickly as he leaned into her touch even more.

“Let’s see how well you can hold your breath. If you do well, then you win~.” 

Immediately a twitch of his cock was enough to spur her forth as she searched for the last couple of items she needed. With a grin, she easily worked a plug into the ring. Easily, the object filled the dragon’s mouth as his loud pants became muffled grunts and moans. 

Though before she decided to attach the smooth leather muzzle over his mouth and nose, she went to work with laying him on his side. The action causing a confused muffled grunt to come from the dragon before a gasp and moan came from him as he squirmed and struggled at the sudden intrusion of the vibrator up into his ass. 

“I didn’t say that it would be easy, Morax.”

A teasing lit came from her as she watched how the dragon’s hole greedily ate up the vibrator before she turned the toy on low. The reaction was immediate as  the dragon flinched from the sudden motions as mewls and lewd moans continued to leak out from his lips. 

“Ah~ You’re so cute…so weak and pliable just for me~.” 

Cooing, (y/n) gently ran her fingers along the beautiful horns adorning her lover’s head. Now that they were in full bloom and not stumps like yesterday, she had the ability to properly gaze at them. Though as she got to the base of his horns a muffled cry came from the dragon as spurts of cum splattered against her and his abdomen. 

“Ho? I didn’t realize your horns were an erogenous stimulant Morax.”

More muffled whines and growls came from the trembling dragon as he impatiently flicked his tail against the marble. In response, the Demi god pressed a kiss to his forehead before humming.

“Let’s begin our game then~.”

With a grunt and some of her former strength, she sat Zhongli up before she grabbed the leather muzzle. The smooth homeless mask glistened back at her before she placed the item over the dragon’s plugged mouth and nose. The straps behind now buckled securely as silence— save for the vibrations— filled the room. 

Smirking, she tested the waters by lightly rubbing her fingers along the tip of his cock. The motion resulting in a highly muffled moan as the dragon trembled. The flourish of his scales along his arms only further served to show how much control he had lost. 

“My, my…so sensitive. Then…let’s do this~.”

Immediately, she positioned herself over his weeping cock and in an instant sheathed his cock. The motion causing the bound dragon to writhe and buck his hips immediately up into her as his cheeks reddened with the lack of oxygen going to his brain. 

If only she could see his expression. His eyes rolled so far up his head as nothing but pleasure and pain hit him as he felt the burn of his lungs for oxygen and his voice sound so meek amidst it all. Of course that high went away as she tugged lightly at the tip of the mask. Fresh air immediately streamed in as he coughed and sputtered with pleads and moans for more as his cock twitched inside of her. 

“S-Shit…easy there baby…”

The pet name only further fueled his whines as he leaned forward into her as he pressed his face the best he could into her neck as she struggled to keep the mask away from his nose to ensure he got enough oxygen to his brain. 

“Let’s see if I make you cum first or if you make me, how about it Morax~?”

Before he could even try to answer the mask was pressed tightly over his nose again and the slow tell tale sign of their game began as he could feel her hips work their magic. Her heavy panting and groans only seemed to egg him on as he began to partake in the game. His hips meeting hers evenly as the foggy feel from the lack of oxygen began to pull at his lungs again. 

The feeling of helplessness and being an all powerful god tamed by a Demi god had his mind reeling from the pleasure of humiliation as he came hard into her. As he did so, he could feel her walls tighten around him only further over stimulating the male after his high as he struggled to keep up. 

Soon he was met with the lovely breath of air once again as the mask slipped away and he could finally smell her intoxicating scent. Sweat mixed with his musk never failed to fan at his belly as he fervently dug his face into her neck. Quickly chasing after the high, yet a gasp and muffled broken moan came from the male as he felt her move her hips once again. 

“Oh, you thought I was done baby? Not yet~. Didn’t you mention that your heats lasted a week?”

As she mentioned this he couldn’t help but feel his cock swell inside of her again, yet he couldn’t help the keen that came out of his throat at the overstimulation he was about to receive. 

“I’ll take good care of you, love. Even if it means me drilling into your dragon mind that I’m the one who is in control~.” 

Again, the slapping of skin filled the room as muffled whines came from the dragon. His claws straining against the binds as he wanted nothing more than to sink his claws into her hips to cum into her again. 

Yet no, he was at his lover’s mercy; and honestly he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It wasn’t until she turned the vibrator on high that he came again. A large load coming from him again as he filled her full. His seed seeping deep into her as he  rubbed his cheek against her neck even more refusing to allow her to leave as he wished to keep her plugged up. Just as she did to him.

“I suppose I’ll stay like this….but only for a moment. Then we try to feed you…alright?”

Softly murmuring against his hair she couldn’t help lovingly caress his hair as she basked in the moment of calm that a momentarily tired out dragon could bring. After all, she still had to deal with this for the next 6 days. 

[butchviking]

your handle is butchviking but I never see you vikingposting anymore hmmmmm. fake. the people need to know what your favorite norse myth shit is.

ohhhh my god ok woagh. its definitely something about loki because surprise surprise i am obsessed with the morally grey genderbendy little trickster dude. this is crazy though why are ppl always trying 2 make me pick favourite things do people really have favourite things? i have so much i love and could never choose between.....

god. idk. i love the lokasenna even though it breaks my heart - 'remember when in ancient days we mixed our blood together, and swore we would not drink ale at any table unless it was offered to both?' and then you make his children rip each other apart in front of him and their innocent mother and bind him in their innards. i love the tale of ivaldis sons and oh my god that is SUCH a transformtive moment for loki's character - that, and the binding of fenrir, are truly the two events that set ragnarök in stone, i believe. what starts as a stupid little prank, cutting off sif's hair - mean, yes, but hardly evil - and then loki does a little bit of trickery, replaces her hair with fine gold AND brings many beautiful gifts for the gods - and what does he get for his trouble? everyone is willing to let him die. and when he once again wriggles out of it with a silly little trick of words, everyone is more than happy to stand by and laugh and mock while his mouth is sewn shut. the ending of that story is dark as hell i really do believe that changed things forever i don't think he ever forgot or ever forgave and i think that's the moment he realised these people were not his friends at all. ggrargh there's any number of things i could pick. for right now, if i had to pick just one line, one moment, i'd choose this - after baldr's death, when the deal is struck with hel that she will release him back to the living if everything in the realms will weep for him. the thought of the aesir's messengers spreading out on their journey, asking every flower and creature, every ant every lion every gazelle to please, mourn for him, it's their only hope.. and i always pictured frigg setting out on that journey too, & of those she encountered i wonder how many of them wept for him, and how many wept for her instead. and then she encounters thökk, one stubborn old giantess in a cave, the one being in existence who says "why should i weep for him? i never knew him. i never loved him." if i were 2 pick one line in the whole mythos, it would be "let hel hold what she has." i always wanted that on my gravestone. nd by the way i do NOT believe thökk was loki actually. i know thats what everyone assumes, but why? is it so hard to believe no-one else would ever refuse? whoever she was, she was right. let hel hold what she has. whats dead should stay dead. we can only go forward we can never go back.

[moeruhoshi]

I've been watching anime all day so here's a late nalu day gift

Lucy slammed her bedroom door and flopped down on her bed with a weary sigh, weeping into her pillow as her day finally came to an end.

The open door of her patio allowed her to hear the neighing of carriage horses taking away her most recent suitor, a man who barely knew what the meaning of personal space was.

Just how many princes and dukes had to waltz through their gates before the princess’ father realized that they had no interest in adequately courting her? It was painfully obvious how the lot of them were only interested in her well-displayed décolletage over her personality and spent more time schmoozing up to the king instead of trying to win her favor.

What hurt, even more, was knowing that she could never be with the one who was truly meant for her.

She stared at the red string tied to her pinky, the fiber ending far off in the distance where it connected to her destined partner. It calmed her in some ways, allowed her to feel a sense of clarity, knowing there was at least one more person out there who could give her the true love she craved.

She hoped every day, when Spetto called her down to meet another suitor, that it would be him, the one on the other end of her string, waiting to hold her as she wanted to hold him.

They could instead be a peasant, she thought as her hopes for him to visit one day were beginning to fade. Not that she cared about that kind of thing, but it meant that they didn't have the means to enter the castle easily. Or maybe they were somewhere in a neighboring country, too far away to find her. Maybe he hadn't been gifted the power to see the string and didn't know she was waiting for him but felt just as empty without her by his side.

She was sure if she voiced her knowledge of the red string to anyone else, they would call doctors from all over Earthland to analyze her cognitive function. 

But she desperately wanted to tell everyone that she had no intention of selecting a suitor through their gaudy traditions. She would instead venture out into the world to find her soulmate, the person at the end of her red string of fate. But knowing her father, he would only let her marry with the promise of the expanded wealth she would gain him from a political marriage.

"Miss? Are you still awake?" Spetto knocked lightly, the princess holding in her sniffles to hear what the maid had to say. "I'm sure you are…but I won't bother you. Your father wants you to know that he'll be inviting the Duke Cream from Veronica for another visit tomorrow. He's eager to correct his…insolent behavior from the last time he saw you."

The princess didn't bother answering and instead let out a frustrated sigh as the sound of her maid's footsteps echoed down the hall. The setting sun illuminated the crimson strand and her fingers loosely wrapped around it, her weak pout quivering as she tugged on the phantom satin.

"I'd rather have you, whoever you are..."

~000~

"The princess!" Spetto screamed as she ran into the King's throne room. Jude was sat upon his seat with the Duke at his side, their conversation halting at her interruption. "She's gone!"

"What in the world do you mean, woman? I'm sure that no good daughter of mine has just buried her nose in one of those god awful fairy tales again. Have the guards search the library for her," He gruffed, rolling his eyes as her demeanor became more hysterical and shaken.

"I have, your highness! The princess has run away, she's truly nowhere to be found!"

"And just when I was about to be introduced to my bride," The Duke frowned and tossed his bleached hair aside. "Send hounds after her, why don't you? I will not let this girl make a fool of me on this glorious day."

"Go on, then," The King glared at his guards standing nearby who quickly rushed out the door. "I should have known that girl would be trouble. Her mother had always filled her head with nothing but pure nonsense."

Lucy lifted her billowy skirt as she ran through the woods, deep within its darkness, trying her best to ignore the now wailing trumpets of distress audible in the distance. She knew it wouldn't have been long until someone noticed her absence, especially after having heard the reality behind Duke Cream’s visit.

It was by chance, an incident that occurred while she was passing her father's office the night before. Lucy heard the plans he made to arrange her marriage to the Duke, ensuring that their kingdom would absorb the principality. This meant her father would have an entire stronghold on the country of Fiore.

A life with that obnoxious and narcissistic Duke was not one she wanted, nor could even stand the thought of.

So, in a panic, she made plans to run away, leaving when the guards wouldn’t be around, going as far as she could go without any clear signs of which direction she'd taken off in. She persevered through her tiredness with the lone thought of her meeting her soulmate who was sure to greet her with a wide smile and open arms.

"This way! C'mon now, you'll never make it running without anywhere in mind!" A voice tinkled through the line of trees, halting the princess in her place as she breathed harshly and darted around scared eyes.

"Who's there! I-I'm not going back to the castle!" Lucy shouted as she turned about in circles, shrieking as a short blonde girl suddenly appearing from thin air

"Did I say I was trying to take you home? No! Now hurry it up! You'll never make it there if you make stops like this, follow me!" She instructed, turning toward the trees and beginning to run.

"Who are you?" Lucy asked between pants as she followed the shorter blonde, mesmerized by the trail of sparkles she left behind her, and the cute wings peeking out from beside her ears.

"A friend," She smiled as she continued maneuvering them through the woods. "And a guide! You’ll never get where you need to go without my help,"

"So you know where I'm going? You can see my string too?"

"Well, sure! I let you see it after all. Boy, was he worried when I told him you were stuck out here without your magic. Idiot almost killed himself trying to find his way through, but it can't be done by anyone but a spirit." She sighed and shook her head, rambling as they avoided a patch of bramble bushes 

"My soulmate...? He was looking for me too? Really?" Lucy felt her heart swell, beating stronger even as she ran, a dazzling smile taking its claim of her lips.

"Yup! You have a very loyal man waiting for you," She giggled. "He can't wait to meet you, said he'd get his house ready and everything while I was out looking for you. I apologize for taking so long, moving around in this realm isn't easy, there’s barely any magic in this land!”

"Magic? Like in books? Isn't that practice all made up?" The princess quirked a brow as the strange girl only giggled again and slowed her movements as they found purchase under the wide berth of a willow tree.

"It's quite amazing someone like you was born here when your home is with us, in the right Fiore. Now, come on! Everyone's waiting!" She grinned, ignoring Lucy's confusion as she pulled them through the hanging branches, the two suddenly falling into the void of the trunk.

"E-Eh?! W-Wha…!" Lucy fell to her knees as she suddenly felt queasy, holding a hand to her head and waited for her headache to subside. She looked up to see where the other blonde had gone, not finding her anywhere and instead met a new and sunny skyline. "Wasn't it…night just a moment ago?"

She stood to her shaky feet, finding her body no longer weighed down by exhaustion, tears, or dirt on her dress. Whatever was in the air made her feel light as, well, air. She'd never felt so amazing before! Just where had she gone when they fell through that tree?

Taking some small steps through the field in front of her, she looked down to her finger, the red string extending into the distance behind her.

"Oh wow…" When Lucy turned around, she was met with the image of a town she had never seen before, curiosity pulling her towards the bustling streets.

It was as she always imagined the streets of the village she ruled above looked; stalls serving food and selling fresh produce, children running and laughing, patrons bartering and making light conversation, happiness in everyone's eyes. Their smiles created her own, and she followed the string eagerly, feeling just right in the Fiore she’d been led to.

She worried this would all turn into a dream soon enough, there couldn't possibly be another Fiore…or the existence of magic at that. Her steps quickened as she feared Spetto would be in at any moment to wake her, feet carrying her towards a patch of woods that broke off from the town.

It would’ve made nice for a peaceful walk if she didn’t think the calm scenery before her would disappear.

“Oi, Gray, watch it!” A sharp voice boomed from the nearby distance. 

“Shut it! I know what I’m doing, it ain’t hard to paint a wall, flame brain!” 

“Don’t start a fight! We had to rebuild that side of the house five times because you two keep knocking it down!”

Lucy slowed down her pace as the volume of their argument increased but kept her eyes on the string that told her he was just ahead. 

Her eyes landed on a red-haired girl pointing a large sword at two boys who kneeled respectively in front of her, bowing their heads as she scolded them. 

Breaking through the line of trees, Lucy smoothed down her stray hairs and dusted off her dress, holding herself nervously as she continued forward.

Each step closer made her legs feel like jelly, flushed her cheeks, and made her heart beat a million times faster, her fingers twitching as she held her hands together. 

“U-Um...excuse me…?” Lucy’s voice was shaky as she approached the three, her eyes watery as she stared at the pink-haired boy who raised his head at the sound of her voice. The string fell into his lap; he was her soulmate.

The red-haired girl turned to face her first, eyes concerned as they fell on her disheveled appearance. “My goodness, are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“N-No...I—“ 

"Oh, crap! It's you!" 

"Don't say that to a girl, idiot! You have no idea who that is!" The raven-haired boy threw a glare at the pink-haired one who quickly stood up.

“Mavis didn’t tell me when you’d get here, I would’ve come to pick you up if I knew you were...oh, hey, don’t cry, okay? Um, here,” He quickly took the end of his scarf to wipe her tears, feeling a knot in his throat as she gently fell against his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

"I just...I just can't believe…" She shook her head, not minding the stain she created on his shirt. "That you're real...that you were waiting for me."

"'Course I was! Having a new family member is always exciting, and my hearts been leapin' like crazy waitin' for you! You were stuck out there all alone and I couldn't come find you. I'm sorry it took so long." 

Erza forced herself and Gray to look away as the blonde hastily kissed their wild companion, his shock present in the stiffness of his back.

He was startled by the sudden action but felt himself melting into the touch, desperate as well to be close to his soulmate.

"I'm home," Lucy laughed with a bit of surprise, Natsu's eyes widening along with his grin. 

"Yeah! Welcome back!"

[jaskierisbi]

lines and verses from every amazing devil song that hit

King

But our voices collide with each howl of the tide || Singing all hell and its fire waits for us

All that matters || Is that you’re here

Pruning Shears

My entire life it's running away too fast || Watching everyone I've ever loved walk past || Never really quite getting the knack of || Knowing no one will not || Ever come back for you

Shower Day

Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk past

You're the one who told me my hair looked better black || You're the one who told me to never look back || You're the one who asked me if I'm feeling ok || I said I'm fine || It's just a sitting down in the shower day

Leave the room but you get caught in the rain || Know you should love him but it's such a pain || Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk away

Elsa’s Song

I can hear the cannons calling || As though across a dream || And I can smell the smoke of hell || In every stitch and seam || And like flowers, the bodies tumble || Around this muddied lot || I cannot hear them scream || ‘Forget me not.’

Pray

Pray for me, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean || When they speak of sin

God made all man in his image || Honey I'm I'm I'm no man || I'm what’s left when children go to war

Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean when they speak of sand and sons and seams and symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

Why you cannot sleep for sighing || Why womanhood is more than crying || I'm stronger now than you have ever known

The cracks you made I fill with mortar || A broken pot can still hold water || Symphonies and sweat and sex mean nothing when you are obsessed || With sin and soil and strength and song and all the words that came out wrong and him

Little Miss Why So

Did you tell them about the time we met little miss || You'll love the way I tell it || And I'll yell it from the rooftops for you || He says

He says || You're going too fast || You'll burn up soon

I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home || I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home

Why won't you just tell them all to fuck off love and be mine

He says || Why so sad || I'm here and I'm alive || Stop making up death wishes and take my lifeline

Why won't you believe I love you if I'm not hurting you, he says || Can't you see that I'm enough for you but you don't want me to be || 'Cause that means you'll actually have to be content

Why so why so sad || Stop asking why I'm sad just know it's enough to know I'm sad

New York Torch Song

But your blood does not bleed red no more || It's whiter than the sun burns, bright with every hum || From within this gaping wound of ours || A new us has begun. A new us has begun. A new us has begun

Tear me up and burn me up and rip me up and leave your || Hand on the wall as you go

Are you god or devil, ghost dishevelled || Childhood friend or drunken revel

I cannot find the words to keep you || I cannot find the words to keep you

Two Minutes

It's like all the wallpaper inside my heart || Is slowly slowly peeling off || And I'm showing || All the stains and things || They wrote on the wall before

These hands are growing cold ||They're running out of things to hold || Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine

If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || To us

Not Yet/Love Run

Sing me awake with a song about pirates || And I will try to harmonise || And sip the sunlight from your eyes || Oh sing me awake || With all the things we’ll do today || But instead we’ll build a den || Out of pillows and get drunk again

If my old mum could see me now || Oh how she’d howl she’d howl

Love run, love run || For all the things you’ve done || Run for all the things that drum || Run for all those pages thumbed

Love run, love run || For all the things we wished we’d done || Run from all you know that’s coming || Run to show that love’s worth running to

All that matters || Is that you're here ||All that matters

- - - - - - - - - -

The Rockrose and the Thistle

n/a sorry y’all

The Horror and the Wild

You are that space that’s in between every page, every chord and every screen || You are the driftwood and the rift, you’re the words that I promise I don’t mean

We’re drunk but drinking (sunk but sinking) || They thought us blind (we were just blinking)

Remember me I ask, remember me I sing || Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Think of all the horrors that I || Promised you I’d bring || I promise you, they’ll sing of every || Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child || Witness me, old man, I am the Wild

Wild Blue Yonder

So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes || Get a grip, we're grownups

Come and rip off my socks like you’re blasting the locks off of a bank vault. Halt! || This time we’re done for

Let’s hide under the covers || We don’t know what’s out there || Could be wolves || So hold me, lover, like you used to || So tight I’d bruise you || I’d bruise you, I’d bruise you too

Every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view

Don't you ever wonder, what could have been? || All those wonders sit in wait for us, we tried

Every brick you hurled, I’ll use to build this world || This world, this world, this world

Welly Boots

And I love you, don’t you know || That I’ll be with you all along, as long as you are kind

And when you scream that it’s not fair || It’s like I’ve gone off to the coast || Left you behind just standing there || Pretending not to see your ghost || If only you could hear my voice || But you are screaming far too loud to hear me swear || Just because I left doesn’t mean that I’m not still there

'Cause you were always strong || When you were young, you’d kick things just to see if they would fall || They said ‘That girl, she’s wrong’ || But I’ll stick up for you, even though you haven’t got a clue, you haven't got a fucking clue

Farewell Wanderlust

He said ‘Hey darling hey, hey darling hey’ || I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say

I promise you I’ll be better || I promise you I’ll try || But like rubbing wine stains into rugs it’s my curse || To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse

I promise you I’m not broken || I promise you there’s more || More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door

Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but light || Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night || This here is not make up, it’s a porcelain tomb || And this here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune

Fair

It’s what my heart just yearns to say || In ways that can’t be said || It’s what my rotting bones will sing || When the rest of me is dead || It’s what’s engraved upon my heart || In letters deeply worn || Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

She laughs as though she’s not heard the joke ten thousand times before || And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time

And she brushes her hand through his hair, he’s got so much fucking hair

And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay

"It’s not fair, it’s not fair how much I love you || It’s not fair, 'cause you make me laugh when I’m actually really fucking cross at you for something," || And he’ll say || "Oh how, oh how unreasonable || How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do || I spend my days so close to you 'cause if I’m standing here, maybe everyone will think I’m alright,"

'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

And calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say || "Dear heart, it’s me, it's me || You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not || 'Cause it’s not like I’ve never heard you fart and snore || And for some godforsaken reason || I’m still here, love, like I’ve always been before,"

Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment || "Where have you been?" she’ll whisper || "I’ve waited oh so long for you to come" || And as the stars above them hum and hear them || He’ll turn to her and say, "That’s what she said"

That Unwanted Animal

You try so loud to love me || I cannot seem to hear || ‘Be good to me,’ I whisper || And you say ‘What?’ || And I say ‘Nothing dear’

I’m the paper cut that kills you || I’m the priest that you ignored || I’m the touch you crave, I’m the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans I’m bored

And you rip my ribcage open || And devour what’s truly yours

'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough || To God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

Marbles

And I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked

You stole the best years of my life || I’ll give them back

'Cause I will wait and hope || Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep || But a place for crows to rest their feet || And I will wait and hope || And rest my head at night content || Knowing where my marbles went

She sang, ‘Do you think I’m sexy?’ and oh god I really did

Oh, if one more guy calls me darling then I || Swear to you and to god I will murder them all

All the bastards applaud when I show that I’m flawed || You’re not flawed darling, you’re just a little under-rehearsed

I’ve loved you, for a hundred years || Certainly fucking feels like it

The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour

And now, even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay || That's okay || 'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day

Battle Cries

Tell the truth to me, love, does my hair look as nice || As it did when you once tangled up in your eyes? || Look at me as you say this, don’t look at your phone

‘Cause these plates they smash like waves || And the wine stains hide the tears || But that breathing you hear, don't mistake it for sighs || Don’t you realise? They’re just battle cries, dear

And these lines aren’t wrinkles, dear heart || They’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art

And as I walk away, I know I’ve been through the wars || But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause

This isn’t a break up, dear heart, it’s a season finale

[raendown]

How It Should Have Ended Naruto Edition. What would you have changed and why?

- Neji would have lived, Hiashi would have died in his place. That would have been a much more meaningful death. He and Tenten would live happily ever after and have no kids and laugh at all their friends changing poopy diapers.

- People?? Would not?? All have babies in the exact same year??

- Yamato would NOT have to go out and chase after the source of all the trauma in his life but would instead partake in the arrest and execution of Orochimaru who 100% deserves it and then live happily ever after.

- Instead of chasing after this dream that clearly will never and did never come true Sakura would grow up to realize Sausage just isn’t good for her and would fall in love with someone who actually supports and openly loves her. (Am I biased? Is it Kakashi? Yes to both.)

- Sausage does not get to go on his stupid exile self pity tour but stays in Konoha and gets some motherfucking therapy like he so clearly needs.

- Naruto is the best fucking god damn father you have ever heard of. Clones? They can do all the work for him. He can make a hundred clones and stay updated on everything happening in the village while his real self stays home all day every day giving his kids the loving childhood he never got himself.

- Anko stays a bad ass kunoichi. Maybe she still gains weight, maybe not. The Akimichi sure prove that just because you’ve got a little padding doesn’t mean you can’t be good in a fight. She likes to drop by the academy and tell Iruka all about her wild mission adventures and proclaim that his life must be boring in comparison. 

- Temari stays her true intelligent and abrasive self but she goes on missions because she truly enjoys it. She is not a housewife. She does not threaten her husband with going to bed without dinner. Shikamaru is a grown ass man and cooks his own damn dinner when he needs to. They raise their child to to be a true Nara who drinks respect women juice for breakfast every morning and whose one true dream is to break the world record for napping.

- All the next gen children actually spend time with their parents and LEARN about their parents, train with their parents, and there is no stupidity about not knowing who their real father is or doubting who their parents really are or any such nonsense. 

- In his capacity as Hokage Kakashi would focus on finding ways to support the mental health of his shinobi so that no one ever has to go through the sort of trauma like he did alone. Ino would use her position as the Head of T&I to help him standardize therapy as something all shinobi have access to and create a regimen of psychological reviews that everyone must pass before being allowed on the field after a traumatic event. 

- Kiba would help this effort by suggesting therapy dogs. He would become the head of this project and love his life forever.

- We would actually get to see Ino taking Sai under her wing to help him grow as a human being then the way they accidentally fall in love along the way.

- Hanabi would become the head of the Hyuga clan and humbly request her sister’s help in abolishing the practice of the Caged Bird Seal. 

- Konohamaru would be set on track to realize his own dream of becoming Hokage once Naruto decides to step down and focus on his family

- Suigetsu and Karin would be best friends and travel the world together experiencing things for the sheer joy of living life on their own terms. Karin would get to build a relationship with Naruto as each others’ last living distant relatives, she would visit quite often. Probably hates his kids. He probably thinks it’s hilarious.

- Kakashi’s ninken would all retire and choose to live out their lives taking up space in the Hokage’s office or wherever he happens to be. 

- Gaara would not get a combover. Ever. 

- Mei would have been allowed to finally realize there is more to life than marriage and spend her retirement traveling around with Tsunade. 

- When he retired as well Kakashi would secretly continue the Icha Icha series and publish it under a pen name. Everyone knows it’s him. No one says a thing. All of them are too busy weeping in to their pillows over his beautiful prose. (Weeping with laughter. He’d be a terrible author.)

-Hm this got long. I regret nothing.