#vivere things

[sasster]

!!

I feel like I never properly introduced the world to Vivere! So. I. Will!

Vivere! We know him.

He’s a member of the House of Restoration’s community, church, and one of their secondary educators at the school! He’s really passionate about many things but the most important things are these ones; Science, experiencing life, and second chances!

When he was young his lusus died and he ended up being found by a member of Ailzea’s congregation, and raised within the walls of the church he pretty much lives and breathes “giving it a chance!” He doesn’t believe doubting himself and if you asked him what his biggest regret is he would say “worrying about what others thought about me when i was that young”

If The House of Restoration preaches don’t worry about what’s on the other side, live the life you have today — Then Vivere EMBODIES it. If he’s not working on something with the kids, you can always see him somewhere around the community helping out or trying something new.

And if he sees a new face? He’s inviting them along for the ride!!

[artpepkin]

My pretty baby 🥺💚🧡

[luv-indigo]

pario mc be upon ye

my mc aislin wysteria solange (woahhh 2 first names? yes bc i couldn’t decide between aislin or wysteria. one of my friends suggested i just use both so yea!)

+ a little silly thing under the cut @stygian-eye-stories

adding the last frame cause it’s my fav <3

[forgottenbones]

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[neuroprincess]

having peanut allergy in brazil must be very sad

[stellacadente]

have been feeling super anxious for like 2 hours so i was doing sudoku while listening to gioventù bruciata and feeling the need to cry. the tears didn't come until milano good vibes started. it's a little funny that that was the song that did it

[theoldgaylion]

Its too hot today non è fattibile proprio no

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ BEAUTIFUL TORMENT ꒱ OKKOTSU YUUTA X READER

warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors, blank blogs, and ageless blogs do not interact—i will block you! yandere. captivity. stockholm syndrome. mental unwellness. dub/noncon. pet play. omorashi + piss play. cunnilingus. butt plug mention. food mentions. afab + gn reader. pet names are: bunny, my love, baby, sweetness. reader refers to yuuta as “yuuta-sama.”

word count ⟢ 2.3k

notes ⟢ this is my (incredibly belated) birthday present to yuuta! it was a massive undertaking to write; what initially began as a tiny drabble spiraled into...well, this. please heed the warnings before reading! and if you do read, be sure to let me know what you think! mwah <3

It’s impossible to tell the time of day in a room with neither clocks nor windows—not that you need to worry your precious little head with keeping time.

Time is not your master, after all.

Your existence is split in two—not unlike that of the earth: ever rotating on its axis, kissed by sunbeams from dawn until dusk, then solemnly accepting the moon’s company. Waiting for your master’s light to cut through the shadowy pitch of night is lonely; basking in his presence during the day is suffocating. You are either with or without him, for he is the extent of your life.

There is nothing else.

Lifetimes ago, you resented him. Aimless yet headstrong, you were a feral stray to others and yourself. You spat in the face of his kindness, biting his hand with all the strength you could muster—a wilfull thing, he affectionately called you, unphased by the bloody rivulets coursing down his forearm. His was the only hand that ever deigned to feed you, but compassion was foreign to your frozen heart. It made your chest ache uncomfortably.

(He still dons the scars you gifted him; memento vivere. Sometimes, when you cling to the euphoria of being cradled as he slumbers, you lick each gnarled patch of tissue—repentant before your sins.)

While your spirit was difficult for your master to forge, he recast your body with ease. Quickly, your nerves memorized the savage shock of pain and the satisfying hum of pleasure. Even though there was a disconnect with your unyielding mind, your body was obedient when you faltered; honest when you lied; meek when you resisted. It was a steep adjustment—melting down and fitting into the mold he created for you.

But you now bear the invisible marks of his torment beautifully.

Reflecting on your past cruelty and ignorance is excruciating. While you’ve done your best to forget, memories claw at your psyche when you’re swathed in starlight, solitary and susceptible. Though you know you belong with him—at his feet or by his side, whatever he deems fit, until death do you part—your subconscious is less convinced.

Dreams are never a reprieve; they haunt you. Remnants of your hatred linger on, your shadow self gnawing on the thought of ripping him to shreds when he’s at his most vulnerable, hair falling across his closed eyes—a picture of soft, boyish innocence. It’s an exhausting ordeal, feeling as though you’re at war in your sleep, never able to relax. Once you awaken, your lungs burn. Something within you cracks open and yawns.

Do you not deserve peace?

Curled up in your bed, half-delirious and longing for daylight, your ears perk at the thump, thump, thump of footsteps descending the staircase.

You would recognize the distinct vibrations of his footfalls even if you were deaf; the reverberations resonate in your bones, thrumming from your crown to your toes. Each muffled thud sets your dormant body alight, kindling the snuffed embers in your core—Pavlov’s tinkling bell. If you had a tail, it would be twitching in anticipation. Your weary heart beats only for him.

My sun.

My sun my sun my sun.

One by one, the chain lock, deadbolt, knob lock, and padlock that keep you sheltered and secure click and clink into place. The doorknob twists as the door creaks open, gingerly shutting seconds later.

“How’s my bunny?” Yuuta’s mellow voice rings out.

Approaching you, he soaks in your huddled figure with a distressed frown. On the nightstand, he notes your empty snack plate and drained water jug.

(When he first takes you in, you outright refuse sustenance, launching a hunger strike. You fail spectacularly, of course. Yuuta pivots with finesse; he makes you taste the bitter dehumanization of being strapped down and force-fed.

Afterward—though you do eat of your own volition—you exercise what little willpower you have, pitching fits during mealtimes.

Secretly, he finds it endearing.

“It’s important that you’re healthy and strong; I want us to spend the rest of our long, happy lives together,” he implores as you eye the food suspiciously.

Fresh apple, carrot, and celery—all sliced into small, bite-sized cubes. It’s how you would prepare food for a toddler to prevent them from choking.

Indignantly, you turn your nose up at his offering, the sight of it making you nauseous. “This is rabbit food,” you spit. “And I’m not your fucking child. I don’t even want to be here.”

“You don’t mean that,” he states with finality.

Refusing to ask for the thousandth time why it has to be you sitting here in his care, you dejectedly open your mouth, allowing him to feed you a tiny piece of carrot.

As you crunch and grind the morsel into a pulp, the sweet, earthy flavor coats your tastebuds. You can’t help but wonder: What good will all these vegetables do if I never see the light of day again?)

Yuuta leans over the bedside, chilly fingertips unfurling around your neck. He slowly brings his lips to your forehead and pauses, testing your temperature—normal.

After he leans back, he speaks. “What are these tears for, my love? They hurt my heart.”

Tender lips sweep away a dewdrop that slides down your cheek; you hadn’t realized you were crying. Under his intense appraisal, you feel small. You feel fragile. You feel safe.

“I missed you, Yuuta-sama,” is all you manage to utter.

At your admission, the fingers on your neck tighten imperceptibly. His thumb strokes your jugular—featherlight. “Oh, my poor bunny,” he sighs, dropping his head to nuzzle the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “I’ve made you suffer.”

Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you protest, “Please don’t say that, Yuuta-sama. It’s my fault…I’m too needy.”

I missed my sun.

Looking up at you from beneath a curtain of ink, he tsks, nose skating along the curve of your jaw. “No, you aren’t. You’re perfect. My precious—” you gasp when he nips at your pulse point “—most perfect love. There’s nothing I’d rather do than be with you all day every day, endlessly adoring you.”

With a pout, you mumble, “Then why don’t you?”

“You know I have to work to protect you.”

Every bit his spoiled pet, your voice wobbles. “I wish you never had to leave.”

“One day I won’t,” he soothes, dotting a kiss to your cupid’s bow. “But until then, we have to enjoy every moment we have together—right?”

“Mhmm.”

For a few breaths, you lapse into syrupy silence. Your fingers weave through the hair at his nape; his head tucks beneath your chin, his balmy exhales tethering you to the present.

When he withdraws, something like a promise glints in his eyes. Your stomach flips. “Will you allow me to help you feel better?”

Sniffling, you nod, and sit up. The blanket slips down your shoulders, revealing the swell of your breasts. While your room is always an optimal temperature, you’re warmer now that you have relished Yuuta’s sunlight—revitalized.

He sweeps a hand through your hair, and you lean into the calming pressure of his touch. His lips curl into a fond smile. “Up, bunny.”

Without hesitation, you obey, leaving the cosy nest of your bed to stand on the cold concrete. No longer wrapped in linens, your nude form is on display. Yuuta’s lapis gaze sweeps over every sliver of your flesh, ears to soles.

Once, his inspections—both visual and physical—made you cower in humiliation and bristle with anger. Now you preen, your lovely features a placid lake. But a storm stirs the glassy surface as you shuffle awkwardly, suddenly aware of how overfull your bladder is.

Seemingly omnipotent, Yuuta’s hand grazes your belly. “Do you have to pee? You had a lot of water to drink while I was away.”

You grimace. “I do, Yuuta-sama.”

“Let’s get you taken care of.”

Reaching out to grasp your hand, he leads you straight to the bathroom, a pristine pee pad already laid out on the tile. While you know what comes next, you await his orders like an obedient pet, fidgety with expectation.

He caresses your head. “Situate yourself, okay?”

Wordlessly, you drop to the floor. Embarrassment prickles your flesh as you lean back on the palms of your hands, balancing on your tiptoes, legs spread wide apart. Your hips jut out, presenting your slick, needy cunt to Yuuta. He towers above you in this position, irises an oil spill—unfathomable in their iridescent depths.

Shame leaves you in waves and lust takes its place, blurring the edges of all your senses. You look up at his handsome face through drooping eyelashes and swallow the urge to whimper; your clit throbs in wanton need. A sparkling bead of desire drips from your hole, rolling down the cleft of your ass.

Returning to your side, he kneels behind you. His gravity is reassuring. You nearly dribble when he hums, encouraging, “Go on, bunny.”

The dam bursts.

A small stream shoots out of you, experimentally, before a steady jet arcs through the air and hotly puddles on the pad. Head cottony with clouds of relief, your limbs feel heavy yet unmoored—a bee drowning in its own honey. Unbidden, a gasp escapes you, luring Yuuta’s pointer and middle fingers to your petal-soft lips. A flash of slick pink, you accept them inside with a sloppy, wet suck, diligently laving each digit.

Perhaps you could survive on the salt of his skin.

“Such a good bunny,” he coos.

You frown when his fingers pop out of your mouth, but your pathetic whine turns into a shriek as he begins to rub slippery circles on your swollen clit, your piss spraying everywhere. While your flow ebbs to a trickle, the insistent pressure on your bundle of nerves continues. A flower scorched by the sun’s rays, you wilt against Yuuta, inhaling the familiar smell of his detergent.

“Y-Yuu—tah—s…s-ama!” Buzzing like a live wire, a jolt of electricity skitters down your spine.

“Gonna cum? Let go, sweetness. Show me how pretty you are when you just let go.”

A beast of an orgasm ravages your body, tearing its way out of your lungs and core, clear liquid spurting out of you. Only the whites of your eyes are visible as you scream, hips wildly bucking. You soon crumple beneath the weight of your climax onto the sodden pad, the aftershocks tingling through your extremeties, pussy unbearably empty.

Beaming, Yuuta proceeds to suck his dripping fingers clean, his groan stoking your pride. “You did so well.”

Pulse thundering in your ears from the intensity of your high, you shudder, twisting your fists into the fabric of his slacks—an attempt to ground yourself.

“May I have a taste?” Yuuta asks sweetly, maneuvering around you before your leaden tongue can string together a response. He lies between your quivering, piss-splattered thighs, uncaring of the urine that seeps through his dress shirt and pants.

“You’re so messy, bunny,” he teases, breath curling deliciously against your heat; you warble, clenching in anticipation. “Don’t worry—I’ll clean you up.”

He fondles your pubic hair with both hands, smearing a kiss on your mons. Thumbs gliding down, he gently spreads your labia, exposing your still-aching clit. The tip of his nose grazes the delicate tissue, forcing a squeal from you. But it’s as though your reactions don’t reach him—he’s so entranced. He sniffs deeply.

“Beautiful…” he whispers, ardent as a prayer.

Unhurried, he licks a searing stripe from your ass to your tender bud. The sound you make is premature—guttural and half-formed, a hideous thing. But it’s Yuuta’s favorite hymn.

After repeating the silken motion until he has thoroughly savored the tang of your cunt, he settles in and laves at your drooling hole, lapping up your juices. Never keen on making you suffer, though, he soon kisses his way up to where you need him most, bumping his nose against your clit before latching on with a firm suck.

The simmering warmth in both your bladder and your womb rekindle into roaring flames, the smoke signaling your inevitable climax. You thrash and wail and yank at Yuuta’s hair, speech reduced to nonsensical babbles as he switches between suckling your clit and tugging your folds. In a final act of torment, he slides two lithe digits inside you, crooking them upward, plucking the pleasure from your innermost place.

“G—otta, n-nngh…go,” is all the warning you manage before you crest.

You piss again, hurtling right into your second orgasm. Yuuta suctions his mouth to your sex, greedily guzzling the mixture of fluids—cum, slick, and urine—until you’re dry. As he parts from your pussy, a silvery thread still connects you; it pulls taut, then snaps. Yuuta’s smile and praise lulls you to sleep.

The sun is smiling at me.

It takes nearly half an hour for you to regain consciousness.

Ever efficient, Yuuta cleans the bathroom and washes you both before you rouse. When you wake, your limbs are entwined with his, face buried in his strong chest. Despite feeling physically and emotionally drained, you purr, bathing in his attention.

“There’s my bunny. Will you sit up for me?” Without waiting for you to move, he pulls you onto his lap so that you face him; you try to ignore the way his bare cock rubs against you. “We need to get you hydrated—yeah, that’s it, baby. Drink it all. Good, good.” He holds the glass for you as you chug its contents, stray droplets dribbling down your chin. Keen on pleasing him, you finish it without complaint, ignoring your stomach’s protests. “Perfect.”

He wipes the excess water away, a mother tidying her child. No longer able to neglect the hardening length against your ass, you rock your hips, pulling an airy laugh from Yuuta.

“So greedy,” he murmurs, massaging the fat of your thighs. “Does my bunny need their tail?”

Shyly, you nod, lips parting as a single fingertip grazes your tight rim.

Yuuta doesn’t need to ask for permission. You would do anything for him, even if it meant your ruin. He’s your savior—your everlasting sun; simply being in his presence is more than enough.

And if you’re bound to get burned? At least you’ll be eternally his.

[of-crowns-and-echoes]

Magic users have always existed alongside normal humans, hidden but present. Eons ago, powerful sorcerors created a ward of magic, separating the magic from the mundane. And so the existence of Sancteiros was wiped from every map and every mind, forgotten as if it never existed in the first place.

But the wall has now fallen, and non-magicals are gearing up for an attack. You play as a Divine One, the current ruler of Sancteiros when the wall falls.

After three Divine Ones dying only a year into their rule, can you be the one to restore stability? Or will your crown fall alongside your people?

DEMO out now!

Names have power: Choose your name, gender, and appearance.

The past is never dead: Customize your character's background and past

Make magic yourself: Choose from three magical classes- mages, sorcerors, and witches.

Don't forgive, don't forget: Rule over a country that has been isolated for centuries, and decide which factions are allies and which are enemies.

No man is an island: Four characters to befriend or romance (or make enemies of)

ETHEL VIVER [m] Vibrant and reckless, Ethel's been your friend for four years now. A witch and a liar, Ethel has a reputation for being loud and knowing entirely too much.

MAREN AIREL [m] The newest recruit of the Guards, Maren rose the ranks of popularity quick. He's the reason that the Guards are known more for adventures than protection, now. He's the son of the last Chief Advisor, and has half the population of Sancteiros swooning at him.

ARTISE CORREL [f] Artise leads the rebels, but the only thing you (or anyone else) knows of her is her insignia - a white feather - left behind at every site of the rebellion. The instability of the regime has led to her growing power, loathe as the Guards are to admit it.

CEDIS DAY [f] Cedis is the second-in-command of the human ambassadors, distrusting and far too cautious. Though most of your council prefers her to the human leaders, she resolutely refuses to talk to anyone but you.

+other minor and major characters

[writing-reference-redux]

I felt like sharing my collection of Latin phrases that may make good fanfic or fanart titles or inspiration. Some of the translations may be off, so you might want to double-check them before use. Also, I used capitalization liberally so you might also want to check where capitalization is actually indicated.

Ab Intra (From Within)

Acta Est Fabula (The play has been performed)

Acta Sancti ___ (The Deeds of Saint ___)

Ad Undas (to the waves / to hell)

Advocatus Diaboli (Devil's advocate)

Aegri Somnia (a sick man's dreams / troubled dreams)

Alea Iacta Est (the die has been cast / point of no return)

Apologia Pro Vita Sua (defense of one's life)

Caetera Desunt (the rest is missing)

Cedere Nescio (I know not how to yield)

Damnatio Memoriae (damnation of memory / denying someone ever lived)

De Nobis Fabula Narratur (their story is our story)

Decessit Vita Patris (died before their father)

Diem Perdidi (I have lost the day)

Dies Tenebrosa Sicut Nox (a day as dark as night)

Dolor Hic Tibi Proderit Olim (some day this pain will be useful to you)

Dulce Est Desipere In Loco (It is sweet on occasion to play the fool)

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus (while we live, let us live)

Dux Bellorum (war leader)

Ex Umbra In Solem (from the shadow into the light)

Festina Lente (hurry slowly)

Fortis Cadere, Cedere Non Potest (the brave may fall, but can not yield)

Fui Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum (I once was what you are, you will be what I am)

Graviora Manent (heavier things remain / the worst is yet to come)

Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (one day, this will be pleasing to remember)

Hic Mortui Vivunt (here the dead speak)

Hinc Illae Lacrimae (hence those tears)

Hodie Mihi, Cras Tibi (Today it's me, tomorrow it will be you - of death)

In Ictu Oculi (in the blink of an eye)

In Somnis Veritas (in dreams there is truth)

Inter Spem Et Metum (between hope and fear)

Lapsus Memoriae (slip of memory)

Luctor, Non Mergor (I struggle, but am not overwhelmed)

Lux Ex Tenebris (light from darkness)

Media Vita In Morte Sumus (In the midst of our lives we die)

Memento Mori (remember that you will die)

Memento Vivere (remember to live)

Morior Invictus (I die unvanquished / death before defeat)

Mundus Senescit (the world grows old)

Nemini Parco (I spare no one - death)

Nitimur In Vetitum (we strive for the forbidden)

Non Ducor, Duco (I am not led; I lead)

Non Omnis Moriar (I shall not all die / part of me will survive beyond death)

Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor (now I know what love is)

Oderint Dum Metuant (let them hate, so long as they fear)

Omnia Mutantur (everything changes)

Onus Probandi (burden of proof)

Opera Posthuma (posthumous works)

Ophidia In Herba (a snake in the grass)

Pax Aeterna (eternal peace - a common epitaph)

Primum Non Nocere (first do no harm)

Pulvis Et Umbra Sumus (we are dust and shadow)

Quis Leget Haec? (who will read this?)

Quod Periit, Periit (what Is gone is gone)

Res, Non Verba (deeds, not words)

Respice Finem (consider the end)

Scientia Et Sapientia (knowledge and wisdom)

Seculo Seculorum (forever and ever)

Sed Terrae Graviora Manent (but on earth, worse things await)

Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum (if you want peace, prepare for war)

Sic Infit (so it begins)

Sic Vita Est (such is life)

Silentium Est Aureum (silence is golden)

Sine Nomine (without a name / author unknown)

Sola Dosis Facit Venemum (the dose makes the poison)

Solvitur Ambulando (it is solved by walking / simple tests find solutions)

Stamus Contra Malum (we stand against evil)

Succisa Virescit (cut down, we grow back stronger)

Sum Quod Eris (I am what you will be - of death)

Summum Bonum (the supreme good)

Summum Malum (the supreme evil)

Sunt Lacrimae Rerum (there are tears for things)

Sunt Omnes Unum (they are all one)

Tabula Rasa (blank slate)

Transire Benefaciendo (to travel along while doing good)

Tu Fui Ego Eris (I was you; you will be me - of death)

Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor (where there is love, there is pain)

Ultima Forsan (perhaps the last / sundial quote "perhaps your last hour")

Usque Ad Finem (until the end / fight to the death)

Vacate Et Scire (Be still and know)

Vi Et Animo (with heart and soul)

Victoria Aut Mors (victory or death)

Vincit Qui Patitur (he conquers who endures)

Vita Ante Acta (a life done before - of reincarnation)

Vivere Militare Est (to live is to fight)

Vox Clamantis In Deserto (the voice of one crying in the wilderness)

There are also some longer ones that may not make good titles because of their length, but are still worth inclusion:

Aut Simul Stabunt Aut Simul Cadent (they will either stand together or fall together)

Flectere Si Nequeo Superos, Acheronta Movebo (if I can not reach Heaven I will raise Hell)

Forsan Et Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (perhaps even these things will be good to remember one day)

Igitur Qui Desiderat Pacem, Praeparet Bellum (therefore whoever desires peace, let him prepare for war)

In Regione Caecorum Rex Est Luscus (in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king)

Minus Malum Toleratur Ut Maius Tollat (choose the lesser evil so a greater evil may be averted)

Quem Deus Vult Perdere, Dementat Prius (whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad)

Ubi Sunt, Qui Ante Nos Fuerunt? (Where are they, those who have gone before us?)

Virtus Junxit Mors Non Separabit (that which virtue unites, let not death separate)

[tsukiyo-7]

This is me trying to bypass Tumblr censorship, attempt 1

Just in case, the full fanart is on ao3

Details under the cut! (It's a bit long, I'm warning you)

Here's the frankly too long explaination.

I basically crammed in this drawing all my favourite motifs and all of my studies.

The tattoo on Sam's back is something I designed myself and represents Mater Dolorosa (Our Lady of Sorrows or Madonna Addolorata) with a stanza from the prayer "Stabat Mater" that goes as folows - "Through her soul, of joy bereaved, bowed with anguish, deeply grieved, now at length the sword hath passed."

Then we have Saint Michael slaughtering the Devil on Dean's arm. This is a mesh up of different stock images; usually Saint Michael stands over a serpent not a dragon and has a sword, not a halberd, those come from Saint George (Patron Saint of soldiers, so not a random choice)

Then there's the scripts. (Open the first pic)

The roman numbers on Dean's collarbone: II.V.XCIII = 2.5.83, Sam's date of birth.

The matching latin tattoos on their bicepts: The whole quote actually is "Nec tecum, nec sine te vivere possum" by Ovidius, which means "I can't live with you nor without you" and I thought of splitting it like that because I think it sums up their relationship pretty well. They can't be together, especially Sam imo (forever the runaway), because it's basically self-destructive, but being apart maybe is even worse (suicidal Dean anyone?).

A mandala with a mantra on Sam's tigh: गते गते पारगते पारसंगते बोधि स्वाहा . The Devanāgarī, for those unfamiliar, is a South Asian writing system. Here we have the mantra that closes the Heart Sutra "Gone, gone, gone to the other shore, Awakening, Svaha." (Svaha is the Hindu goddess of sacrifices; in a Buddhist context the term is used as denoument for mantras, espicially duing rites and offerings).

The characters on Dean's bicept, next to Saint Michael: 天罰. Those are technically Hanja aka Traditional Chinese characters used to write Korean (mostly because I first encountered this word in my korean phylology studies and that's how I know it), but they mean the same thing in Korean, Chinese and Japanese, "Divine Punishment", sooo - the only difference is the ponunciation. Korean: 천벌 (cheonbeol) Japanese: てんばつ (tenbatsu) Chinese: 天罚 (tiān fá).

Lastly, on Dean ribs, say hi to my bestie Hammurabi and his famous Code: here we have the Law 196 which actually even rocks know about; An eye for an eye. The full text says: "If a man has blinded the eye of another man, his eye will be blinded." Can't really offer you a transcript but if you're curious here's the transliteration:

" šum-ma a-wi-lum i-in DUMU a-wi-lim úḫ-tap-pí-id i-in-šu ú-ḫa-ap-pa-du " There's this really neat website here that is a digital version of the whole code and it's also my source.

[yanny09]

some Latin phrases that remind me of the gods

cogito ergo sum: i think therefore i am Sapientia potentia est: wisdom is power Athena Palma non sine pulvere: dare to try Carpe diem: seize the day Hermes Carpe vinum: seize the wine In vino veritas: in wine there is truth Dionysus Necessitas etiam timidos fortes facit: need makes the timid brave Veni, vini, vici: i came, i saw, i conquered Ares Familia supra omnia: family over everything Non ducor, duco: i am not led, i lead Zeus Memento vivere: remember to live Libertas perfundet omnia luce: freedom will flood all things with light Apollo Morior invictus: death before defeat Oderint dum metuant: let them hate so long as they fear Hades I FEEL BAD THAT I ONLY PUT WINE STUFF FOR DIONYSUS ILL ADD MORE TO HIS NEXT TIME I DO A POST LIKE THIS I SWEAR!!

[tinum]

Memento Vivere - Harumasa x Reader (Angst)

Summary: Harumasa's death and everything that comes after it. Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH, possible errors, maybe ooc Word Count: 1.6k Notes: the plot hole is actually filled with hidden lore about the reader guys! It's totally intentional, trust me! Thanks to the anon who requested!! ill work on it ASAP <3 okay, i think i did pretty good on this one but i really struggled with the ending tho. Let me know what you think.

The beginning. To every start, there must be an end. No matter how gently you stretch a rubber band, it is bound to break. What can not be cured must be endured, and what is endured succumbs with you.

Harumasa lays in your arms, his own body giving in to the weakness he had been born with. Tiny crystals have begun their spread across his cheek. Slowly sleeping below the skin, splitting muscle and replacing it with a mineral you hope you'd never seen him wear.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You repeat like a mantra. It was you who had gotten him into this mess. If you had not insisted on him accompanying you, He would have been back at the office, slacking off as he deserved. "It's all my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Hey now, you didn't know this would happen." His voice was gravelly as if the corruption had already made its way to his throat, permeating his voice box.

Behind you, your bangboo's buzzing circuits shoot out sparks as it twitches helplessly on the concrete. It repeats the same dialogue over and over. The echoing fills you with insurmountable rage, and each discordant repeat of your failure fills you with a burning desire to smash it into pieces.

You stumble over your words, scanning your surroundings. "We have to get out of here. Maybe there's a chance-"

Harumasa cuts you off, gently squeezing your hand. "I think we missed that boat a long time ago." A brutal cough overtakes his words, leaving nothing but grits of dust.

"Stop it." You spoke gravely. "Stop talking like that!" You didn't mean to raise your voice. Comforting him is what you should be doing, not yelling as if he is in the wrong.

Harumasa couldn't help but chuckle. He had always admired your tenacity, even if you were lying to yourself.

"Hey.. remember what I asked from you?" His eyes reach yours, the brilliant gold now a cold yellow. You nod sullenly; tears cloud your vision.

"That's good." Harumasa looked down at his legs; crystals had already formed around their length. "It seems like I have nothing to worry about, then."

You held him for a few moments, your breaths fluctuating as you struggled to hold on to your sobs. You aren't sure what you're waiting for. The end was inevitable; once corruption took root, it would only spread.

"C'mon.. you promised. You wouldn't go back on a promise, would you?" He rested his head on your shoulder, unable to hold the weight alone. He reaches for your thigh, pulling out the dagger from its sheath.

The bough finally breaks, and sorrowful tears shove themselves past your waterline. "I can't.."

"Please." He begs. You were being selfish; you knew you were. Stretching a few moments with him while he was suffering an insoluble torment.

He places the dagger in your palm, folding your fingers over it. Guiding the dagger to his chest, he whispers, "please."

The crack of rocks becomes more apparent as it travels up from his legs at an alarming speed. No longer could you delay your parting. It was a matter of seconds now.

Oh, how you wish you had more time—more time to spend doing the things he loves and more time with him.

The cool steel punctures through his breast. Penetrating faster than corruption could leech. In your arms, he ceases his breathing. The hand, cradling his killer, falls to his side, never to rise again.

-----

The world was cruel to those who can't acclimate. A goodbye will only fall deaf to those who refuse to listen. It will always loom even if they ignore what happened, waiting for the day they let their guard down.

When you return to work a few weeks later, you expect to see him sitting at his desk, his head resting gently on the piles of paperwork he has yet to do. You know it's impossible, but you can't shake the routine you have grown to love.

Once you are seated at your new desk, one far from his, a voice gently calls out your name.

"I think it's best if we talk-"

"Don't." You don't bother turning around; you don't want to see them.

"Please, just give it a chance. It would be beneficial to us all if we had a moment to talk about him."

"I said don't. I don't want to talk about this, okay?" She noticed how you tiptoed around the subject, too afraid to speak his name.

"I won't force you," she pauses, unsure if she should speak. But I think he would want you to attend his funeral." She gently places a card on your desk—a funeral.

You wouldn't. You had too much work to do.

-----

It comes in waves. A sheet of weight that crushes you, you can fight against the tide till it recedes, but it always comes back. Violently.

He should have never gone with you. It was his fault. It's his fault for coming. It's his fault for being sick. That's what you keep telling yourself over and over till you are choking on your guilt.

When you are not blaming him, he comes in your dreams. He haunts your safe haven, removing the white and painting it red. His figure is tainted with corruption, and his eyes are a different shade than you remember. He laughs, and he jeers, mocking your own failure to protect.

You were weak. Weak in battle and weak against him. Everything he says rings true, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise.

-----

Wishing for a different outcome. If you were given the chance to reverse time, what would you do differently?

Sometimes, you ponder if you could have done something to prevent this from happening. If you had told him no that morning, would he be laughing with you today? How about if you took a different route in the hallow? Would he have safely made it out? You have repeatedly run through all the possibilities in your mind, looking for a new path to alter.

If you had one wish, it would be to see into the future. You would make sure you would never make the same mistake. You'd protect him this time.

You smile fondly at your fantasy.

-----

The world is bleak, but it's worse without them. The battle against the tide has been lost. You let the water submerge you.

You haven't been to work in almost a month. Getting out of bed was already daunting, but seeing his desk was more so. Even the thought would cause tears to well up in your eyes. You didn't want to cry anymore, but you didn't know how to stop.

Once you had reluctantly drifted to sleep, he spoke. It was soft and tender, a strong contrast to his previous visits. His eyes were that familiar shade of sunset you had remembered. His flesh had broken through the corruption, no longer tainted with pain. It was truly him.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're stronger than this."

"Harumasa!" you call out, reaching for him, hoping to feel his warmth, but your hand passes through.

"Hah, that doesn't work, I already tried."

"Is it really you?" you whisper, your illusionary hand caressing as close to his face as you can. Your eyes snap to his features, his eyes, his nose, and his hair, painting a memory. "I miss you so much."

His hand hovers over yours; there is no sensation of touch, but something else overwhelms you—a warmth so beautifully him.

"I miss you too." He eyed gaze upon you as if you hung the sun itself, and you couldn't help but do the same.

When you can't handle his stare any longer, you pull him into a hug to the best of your abilities. For a moment, you feel like he's real again.

But as the way of all things, it must come to an end. Just as quick as the warmth came, it began to disappear. His figure slowly blended in with the backdrop of your dreamland.

"No-!" You stumble towards him, but he is already gone.

"Don't rush. I'll see you when you get here, kay?"

You woke up with a gasp. The room was grey, except for a single ray of light shining through the crack of your curtain.

Perhaps you would get out of bed today.

-----

It is never truly gone, just bearable. A wound so deep can heal, but a scar will always remain.

The dream where he spoke so tenderly was his last visit. He never returned, no matter how often you tried to recreate that day. The wounds have healed, but they left their mark. The world may have gone on without him, but yours had stopped the day he passed. You weren't sure if it would ever spin again, but you'd be damned if you didn't try.

Returning to work after your final meeting was daunting, but his words cleared the clouds in your mind, allowing you to see clearly for the first time. If you had just pulled the curtain, you'd realize the light had been shining there all along.

The members of section 6 were your light. They carried the burden of loss just like you did. They cried and screamed for a second chance, just as you. Allowing them in was allowing yourself to heal. You deserved that much.

So, you will allow yourself to heal. Day by day, you will carry on your work, fighting for everything he believed in, just like he would for you.

[calaisreno]

Re-Read Recs: Victorian Edition

Thanks to @totallysilvergirl for pointing me to this post by @acethatlovesdinos asking for more Victorian Johnlock. Your timing is great; I was just compiling a list of Victorian setting fics for my next RRR post!

If you go searching specifically for Johnlock in a Victorian setting, part of the problem, as always, will be finding things. As admirable as the AO3 tagging system is, when you're searching for something specific, you still have to dig a bit.

Many people, myself included, assign all their Victorian stories to the fandom tag "Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle."

But some writers add "Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle" to all their stories, including those set in BBC or other adaptations, because they wish to attribute the characters' creator.

And some do not use the ACD tag at all because their stories, even those in a Victorian setting, are inspired by the BBC adaptation and imagined with those characters.

There are other tags: Victorian, Victorian Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Victorian Holmes/Watson, Victorian Johnlock.

(My own approach: readers may imagine whatever actors they prefer; I tag by the setting. Even so, I've tagged stories set in the 1920s and 1820s as ACD, even though these are outside of the Victorian Era.)

There is no one-click method to separate out all the stories, and only the stories, where Watson and Holmes are together in a Victorian setting. AO3 lets us use tags however we wish; it's a folksonomy, a collaborative system. For the number and variety of stories contained there, it is the most practical method.

You can search an individual author's works, filtering and sorting by kudos, hits, relationships, tags, and other things. You can search anyone's bookmarks in the same way. (I'm always surprised when people don't know this!)

If you search my works, for example, you will find 60 stories in the Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle fandom. A couple of those are tagged 'timetravel,' so if you don't want that, you can exclude that tag. If you don't want any stories with Mary Morstan married to John Watson, you can exclude John Watson/Mary Morstan under Relationships.

However you search, if you filter your search results by hits or kudos, you will find that stories in the ACD/Victorian Johnlock category have many fewer of these. AO3 went live only a year or so before BBC Sherlock began to air, and it was one of the top fandoms for many years. There are a huge number of stories in the BBC fandom.

But there are dedicated and talented authors who have been writing Holmes/Watson for a long time, and today I'd like to point you towards a few of them. Here are some of my favorite re-reads:

Memento Vivere - @mydogwatson - The life stories of Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes and John Watson. An alternate history.

My Gentle Sin Is This - janeofarc - It takes a near miss for Holmes to realize that he cannot imagine his life without Watson.

Missing Pages - @PlaidAdder - a group of interlinked short stories (most between 2000 and 7000 words) which tell the story of how Holmes and Watson really came to be separated at the Reichenbach Falls, and how they found each other again

Missing - @Random_Nexus - Holmes is missing. Watson is trying to figure out where he is and what happened.

Oubliette - gardnerhill - A series: a treatise on love and grief. Watson is kidnapped by a gang; Holmes must find him before it's too late.

Laphroaig in the Lumber Room - wordybirdy - Holmes & Watson discover a bottle of Laphroaig inside the lumber room at Baker Street. A drinking game of truth results in intimate confessions.

All of these authors have written many excellent Victorian Holmes/Watson fics. But there are many more you should look at if you want to read more of our boys in their original canon setting. I think I will have to write a Part 2 for this post!

Thanks for reblogging!

@totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes

@redmondcollege @raina-at @7-percent @lhrinchelsea

@a-victorian-girl @ghostofnuggetspast @friday411

@meetinginsamarra @inevitably-johnlocked @copperplatebeech

[voidistooshortforausername]

i usually don't post different angles of the same thing but look how cool this ink is.

also pls go read the deliciously tense memento vivere by @audentesfortunaiuvatt, it made me want to bite walls