#sobfest

[lemememeringue]

yeah I'm not convinced antidepressants do anything for me

[randomnameless]

Given how shitty MYH is, I can't even take this for granted about "who" the eff Metodey was, and "who" hired him, if it was Uncle or Flamey.

But well, given his voiced lines, for FEH at least, dude knows pretty well who he is working for - I mean he has lines recognising Flamey's alter ego, but none about the other scions of Adrestia like Ferdie or Linhardt?

Rather, in the feh verse, he dgaf about having to kill them :

So, for the FEH verse, this

meant that Flamey - who was the one who hired the guy - was purposingly targeting the bones, and since only stones can be used to transform humans in War Assets, what could Flamey even want to do with bones...

Unless she knew (Uncle told her?) what Relics are made of, and we know in Tru Piss Uncle'n'pals were looking for Relics.

Oh well, we all know we're not supposed to infer anything regarding those lines, and buy umbrellas and tea bags so I'll prepare a pot of Earl Grey.

[riyathebibliomaniac]

Y'all.. Episode 11 of Queen of tears. That's all. (Sobbing)

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I remember the year I and a couple of my friends decided it was our last season skating because we were the old grannies on the ice at that point (at the ripe old ages of like 18 lmao) and were ready to move on with our lives, we decided we were just going to enjoy the shit out of our last year-end show. (Especially since we could be snarky and roll our eyes at all the drama because we gave zero fucks lmao.) And we had a BLAST. And we also bawled our eyes out in the dressing room as soon as we took our final bows and got off the ice because we were processing this thing that had been a huge part of ourselves and our community for years (if not most of our lives). We were so happy to be going out on our own terms (e.g. not because we got injured or burned out or forced out) and being able to savour everything, but also grieving this thing that had been such a huge part of our lives (and friendships!) for so long.

Anyway. Memories, they do be many things at once!

[andalitean]

So i just finished Animorphs (didn't look at any Animorphs related social media while I was reading them to avoid spoilers) and oh my god how do I cope. jesus christ. JESUS. CHRIST. Personally I'm struggling most with the Jake & Cassie bad ending, like I get it I GET IT but ouch

welcome to Club Never Getting Over The Ending Of Animorphs Even Though It Was A Really Good Ending For The Series That It Was, here's a lifetime supply of tissues and a referral to therapy

[fireheartedpup]

Mom was right about holding her through her attacks. I didn't do it much before that because she spasmed and tried to get away, but she can't control that right now and I don't want her bumping into things like that. Feels like I need baby bumpers around the entire apartment.

I think it might be comforting for her. She's finally able to sleep a bit, so afterwards she just... stays in that one spot.

I was wondering if it was just exhaustion catching up to her or if the meds were working, but she has less tingling running down her spine and has been sleeping more frequently.

Don't want to be premature, but I took her for a walk so she could go to the bathroom more easily and at certain points I almost forgot that she's invalid right now.

...also, someone came up asking to pet her, and when I tried explaining her behavior and they asked if she was okay, I said NOPE! She's on five new medications.

...they just left after that. I did thank them. Bitty likes people.

[avaritia-ffxiv]

The lighting is Fantastic in this cutscene so you can barely see her BUT PLEASE BEHOLD THE BEST WORST GIRL ANYWAY.

[jalapenobee]

well chat the time has come for me to get off my ass (<- is still lying down) and reread servamp

[foundationsofdecay]

my shameful secret is that i have never listened to the 'from the room below' tracks. not out of any disinterest, but purely because the premise and picturing what that would have been like makes me choke up fiercely and i can only imagine what actually listening to those would be like

[midwest-indigo]

.

[randomnameless]

Is Supreme Leader the worst-written example of the “Evil King/Emperor” archetype in FE?

I'd say the worst written might be Marquis Laus -

But only because FE7 isn't concerned with the Evil King/Emperor Archetype, instead, the main villain is Gharnef !

Bar that, worst written example can only be, imo, Rudy from SoV.

I legit can't find anything positive to say about the guy, who apparently was very worried about the blue people so he sent his only son away in the rival country/state (and sent said son's mom in a monastery/thing?), with the purpose of having his son topple that other country so he can lead an army, in the intercontinental war he will have started, to kill him, become a "hewo" and then kill the lizard turning into goo - something he cannot do himself, despite having killed the lizard with her lesbian harem a few days earlier.

Complete with letting his edgy nephew in the dark, creating a marianna trench rift between his nephew and his son that ends in his nephew losing his remaining sanity by torching his wife - on top of making every Rigelian with half a brain despise his son -

And that was his plan to save the world??

What the actual fuck???

[chlosmovingcastle]

the bees - @thehauntedair sobfest september day 3: “bee”

The Bees in the Harbor, you will notice, are always watching. Lurking in the corners of always, buzzing amongst themselves with the actions of the humans. As you walk through the labyrinth of rooms, they will follow closely behind, fulfilling their role as The Harbors guard dogs. They started when Time and Fate had their secret get togethers, wound together like a crochet hat in the dark of the night, when the Moon took a vacation, and the Parliament of Owls were away. They watched as security, helping the Lovers rendezvous in private, so when the years passed and Time & Fate moved to The Harbor in the form of Mirabel and The Keeper, The Bees followed suit.

Time and Fate always reconnected. Found each other, even in the weirdest of situations. Months, Years, Centuries could go by, and they’d always find eachother. Until they couldn’t.

Mirabel left The Harbor to replenish the diminishing stock of Doors. The Keeper knew she would be gone for long. Mirabel swore to him she’d be back, that she’d be safe. She stepped into the elevator on that cold Winter evening, and never looked back. For 15 Years, the Bees watched The Keeper. How he stared at the doors, waiting for her to enter through them, for Mirabel to run into his arms and hold him close to her. The days continued to pass and The Keeper lost hope, lost his trust in Fate. He saw boys enter and leave as men. He saw Zachary Ezra Rawlins enter and never leave. Lost to the depths, never to escape.

The Bees watched as The Keeper barely escaped the Harbor. They watched as the tears rolled down his face, the last of his soul lost to the core of the earth. They watched as his knees buckled, as he pulled at the long grey hair grown from his head, as his voice broke from the guttural screams that escaped his chest. They watched as The Keeper grew older, as he took his last breath, and whispered his final words.

“I love you Mirabel”

[thehauntedair]

TheHauntedAir Sobfest September

Based on the prompt of the day, make a Starless Sea Character of your choice cry in under 1000 words.

Day 1. Home

Day 2. Honey

Day 3. Bee

Day 4. Food

Day 5. Monsters

Day 6. Sea

Day 7. Moon

Day 8. Safety

Day 9. Stars

Day 10. Sword

Day 11. Books

Day 12. Blood

Day 13. Broken

Day 14. Fear

Day 15. Present

Day 16. Release

Day 17. Love

Day 18. Heart

Day 19. Music

Day 20. Key

Day 21. Crown

Day 22. Cold

Day 23. Darkness

Day 24. Seeking

Day 25. Feather

Day 26. Game

Day 27. Warm

Day 28. Glasses

Day 29. Pain

Day 30. Finding

Tag @thehauntedair to get featured on this blog!

Our tag is #Sobfest September

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by the tastemaker @cordiallyfuturedwight for the july list 💕 Category 5 Breakdown in the tags as per usual but tagging some favs if you fancy a go @aprylynn @thvinyl @monismochi @banghwa @pauls-mccharmly @avizou mwah

[fateheartblog]

Home - Sobfest Starless Sea event

My submission for @thehauntedair 's September sobfest fic event - making Dorian cry.

This one is, as ever, contingent upon the Fateheart timeline. Sorry about it (but not really). Also I have not even slightly read this for typos.

And it's way too long, but oh well. Dorian cries and gets hugged about it. It's a good time.

-

Home

Dorian stands up.

He sees in the window panels the faces that look to him. He sees his own. The Tokyo night beyond it is startling as it sharpens into focus. A galaxy rendered closer by attention. A star mess he is lost in, standing at the far side of the table.

The room has fallen silent.

“I have to go.”

They glance at each other. The conversation has been long and tense. The hours just as long. Empty coffee cups are little satellite dishes amongst the papers and scrawled suggestions about how to move forwards. But without the town planning information they don’t stand a chance of solving this this evening.

And he’s tired.

Shever has stood as well. “Can I assist you?”

“No, you’re alright. Is Leander still here?”

She stands down at a lift of his hand.

“Yes,” offers Farne. “He’s gone up to a room. He wanted to stay so if he was needed in the morning he’d be on hand.”

Dorian nods, thanks them, ends the meeting, leaves, climbs the stairs, makes eye contact, does not make eye contact. Wonders, amongst those littering stars and the Tokyo striplights, what is wrong.

He’s not sure. But that in itself feels wrong.

Knowing himself is half the battle. Standing firm in the centre of this maelstrom is so much of the winning. Anchorage in the face of all kinds of weather. These people - his people - who drift in the sky, catching the turbulence and following it, reporting it back to him. All tied to him.

Being ‘not sure’ can be the death of so many things. Certainty.

He is walking quickly down the corridor. He is high above the world. He has a signet ring on his left hand bearing the embossed face of an owl - sharp lines, barely signifying a creature. More of a symbol than an image. A crown etched above it. Eyes perfectly open. Sight unclouded. Sure.

The room unlocks at the touch of the ring, as all of them do. A key as well as a crown. Hidden at the heart of the owl there. A heart as well as a feather.

The symbols dance around his head in the dark.

He crouches by the bed.

“Leander.”

Leander jolts awake, turning to stare at him. He pushes himself up quickly.

“Dorian - is everything okay?”

“Sorry to wake you. There’s no emergency, it’s okay.” He lets Leander blink a few times. The light from the corridor has made a landing strip across the blanket. The room would be spartan and miserable but for the presence of a dear friend and a shelf of books. “I’m leaving. I’m going back to the Harbour. Just… just for tonight. For now. Possibly tomorrow as well. To be honest, we’re not getting anywhere with the municipal office in the foreseeable future anyway, and all the Owls assure me the consequences of going ahead without permission would be considerably more dire than waiting.” Dorian sighs and stands up again, looking out to the landing.

The light out there does not seem as bright as it does once it has fallen in here. Or maybe it is because here there is darkness to cut through.

“That’s fair. I thought it might take a few days. Happy to stay, if you need me.”

“That would be helpful, if that’s okay,” Dorian answers without turning back.

Silence.

“Dorian, has something happened?”

Dorian does not answer. He does not turn.

“Do you ever…” The crown, the heart, the feather. A faint buzzing. Some kind of story. A sword upon his chest. A key above his heart. A heart that gives a crown. A crown upon a feather. Dorian looks back at Leander in the darkness. “Do you ever feel all of a sudden that you’re in the wrong place? That there’s a place you are supposed to be - absolutely and unequivocally. And you have to be there. No matter what. No matter why.”

Leander looks at him for a long minute. “Yes.”

Dorian nods. “I have to go home. Right now.”

“Is Zachary okay?”

“Yes. Well, I’m assuming so. I haven’t… I haven’t called him yet.”

“Right. Are you okay?”

This is much harder to answer. Dorian looks back at him, feeling the answer with some difficulty. Because he’s not sure why.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Leander says, and after a brief pause he shuffles out of the bed, leaning over and turning on a lamp with a touch of a stump. Dorian takes a step back in the light.

“I don’t know… what’s wrong. I’m not sure.”

Leander looks him up and down, his hair tousled, eyes puffy with sleep. “Does there have to be a reason? Sometimes you just get homesick. That’s fair. It’s been an exhausting few days and I was only here for two of them.”

Dorian frowns.

“Do you need me to get up and like, be functional?”

“No. You can go back to sleep. I just wanted you to know what you’d be waking up to. And to ask - if anything happens, call me immediately. Please.”

Leander nods and falls back onto the bed.

“Gotcha. Go home, Dorian. Take a breather. Sounds good.” He is asleep again before Dorian has closed the door behind him.

He does not call Zachary as he descends the stairway, fourteen floors through the hotel. He does not call Zachary as he debriefs Shever in the lobby and pulls his coat on. He does not call Zachary as he walks out into the night, moving swiftly through the people and the lights and the stars the stars the stars.

And then he’s sat on a train, heading away from all those stars. And the phone is in his hand, and he cannot work out why he is hesitating.The last train out of Tokyo that night is quite empty. One man further down is reading a book. A trio of teenagers are talking quietly in the stark carriage lighting.

It takes him nearly forty miles to dial the number.

He doesn’t answer the first time.

He does answer the second time.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Hey, Zachary. It’s me. Hey.” He stares out of the window. Instinctively turning his head away from the carriage, hiding his mouth. At such an angle that even in the reflection his words can’t be read on his lips.

“Oh hey! Dorian. Hi. You okay?”

He stares at his own face in the darkness. Old instincts, an old restlessness. Running.

“Dorian?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Oh no - has something - I’m - hang on - what’s happened - I can-”

“No, no, nothing’s happened. I’m okay. Stay where you are, my love. I…”

“No, I’ll come, it’s okay-”

“No, you don’t need to. I’m coming home. I’m - I’m on my way back now.”

“You… you are?”

“Yeah. I’ll be, um, an hour or two. Probably closer to two, actually. I’ll keep you updated.”

“O-okay. You’re coming home?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh Dorian.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

Dorian tips his head a little, hiding from the world. Unseen, unnoticed in the darkness and the harsh white of the train carriage lights. The starscape that ricochets by is bitingly cold against his forehead. The darkness is sheer glass and chill but at least there are stars. At least there are stars.

“Could you-” His voice breaks. He shuffles a little further down in his seat. “Could you say that again?”

“I love you,” Zachary says immediately.

Dorian closes his eyes. “I love you too,” he says into the phone, and something hurtles past. An unfamiliar city. Well, not quite true. He’s lived here. He’s lived so many places. If you could call it living. One all too familiar city out of many. One train out of thousands. One fractured existence over decades of loneliness.

“I love you,” he is saying again. And again and again. “Come home for a night. Let me look after you. You said… you said it’s been going badly. Are you just… has something happened, Dorian?”

The train window is sheer cold and hard, unforgiving vibration against his head. The train carriage smells of city and breath and fatigue and it makes him so, so tired. So many lifetimes spent on trains. So many cities.

“No,” he clears his throat. “I don’t… I couldn’t even tell you, really.”

The pause is only a moment.

“Oh, Dorian.”

He knows he’s crying. Zachary can always tell. Even though Dorian himself could barely tell. Could barely have said why.

Leander’s voice comes back to him, rattling beneath the seats the way the metal panels do as the train takes him home. Sometimes you just get homesick.

He opens his eyes, which lets loose a few more tears. He sits back a little, keeping his breathing steady, though the crying is steadier.

“Something about being in Japan,” he says eventually. Hiding his mouth with the hand which holds the phone. Just an instinct. An automatic one - to hide himself, his speech, his voice. To press against that cold hard darkness as the stars slip by.

“You spent quite a lot of time there, didn’t you?”

Dorian can hear that Zachary is moving. He hasn’t asked where he is. The phone works underground now - he’s probably in the Harbour somewhere. He can hear background music possibly but that doesn’t mean he’s at home.

Home.

“I did, yeah. But that’s not bothered me so much before. I think… I realised after today. You know it’s been difficult. The whole prefecture is in Sinjuin’s pocket. We got nowhere with it today. And I was just… I was sitting there-” Dorian breaks off as that feeling from the conference room washes through him again.

He leans back into the seat, but his chest has constricted.

He wishes he wasn’t on a train. He wishes his husband was with him, to catch this, to understand him, to help his breathing ease.

He wishes he wasn’t in public. Out in a world he trained hard for years never to trust. A world he has learnt to navigate in darkness.

He wishes he was home.

“I love you,” Zachary says again, and his chest loosens enough for him to talk through the tears.

“I realised, Zachary. I realised I wanted - I wanted to go home. And that’s - sometimes when I’m - I don’t always - I don’t usually-” It is difficult to find the words. It is difficult to do anything but cry.

“Oh, my Dorian. I’m sorry. I love you. So, so much.”

Zachary sits with him in the silence. A world away. A home, waiting for him. A home to go back to. Something he has never had before.

Eventually he manages to talk.

“I realised I had a place to long for. I realised I was homesick. And so… I wanted to come home.”

He ends in a whisper. He hears Zachary let out a long breath.

“I’m gonna come up to the cave. I’ll come wait for you by the door, yeah? We can - we can do something fun this evening, if you - wait, it’s the middle of the night for you, isn’t it? Well-”

“You don’t need to come wait for me, Zachary, I-”

“But I want to.”

Dorian finds himself laughing at the slightly put-out tone in his husband’s voice. And it doesn’t stop him crying. In fact it compounds it into something that might be hiccups. 

Which quiet down back into gentle crying as the train and the night and the aching for home stretches on.

He nearly falls asleep. Zachary stays on the phone with him for a bit until the battery protests. But by that time he is nearly home. 

Nearly home.

He had managed to persuade Zachary not to come sit in the entrance hall, though he is half-expecting to see him there when he opens the door. The cave is cold, but the two women passing outwards into the world beam at him. And the elevator moves smoothly. And the air is warm and soothing and tastes of lemongrass and honey and a little bit of blossom and apple and wood.

And the chamber doors open to the warm golden glow of the Starless Sea. And he is being greeted by several voices in the entrance way. And there is his husband.

Dorian takes a deep breath as Zachary closes his book and rises from a bench in the alcove.

He slips an arm around him, but he is looking out at the honey. That deep wave of a strange, pulling ache breaks upon the shore of his home.

“Hey. Hey, Dorian. Welcome home.”

He stands beneath the constellations of the vaulted antechamber and holds his husband.

Dorian feels so many things ease from his constricted ribs, his hurting, releasing heart, in Zachary’s arms.

He pulls back, looking over his face.

“You okay?”

Dorian smiles. Tears are pricking again, but they feel a little more like relief now.

“Oh yes,” he murmurs, and brings his lips to his for a slow, long kiss. “I’m home.”

fin.

[ghostsandmermaids-writes]

Fandom: The Starless Sea

Relationship: Dorian/Zachary Ezra Rawlins

Prompt: Cramping

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 925

@badthingshappenbingo