so-mordor-itis - Tumblr blog

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

Hey guys!

I wanted to come on here and state that I am putting this blog on permanent hiatus and moving to a newer one.

I have decided that, during my writing practice and for improving my craft, I want to start over with a clean slate!

I'll still leave this blog up and running, in case others still want to read its contents, but I will no longer be posting to this blog.

My new one is: @breathinginyoursmoke

[so-mordor-itis]

grief will make you do crazy things. it will electrify the elegant, flower-stem neurons in the amygdala of your brain, will pluck them like an instrument. in ancient rome, grief made men twirl in their thin, leather sandals and pirouette until their feet bled; in india, it walked widows onto pyres waiting for fire. the persians gave the bodies of their deceased beloveds to dogs; the egyptians buried them with their servants. grief will make you laugh at the funeral, weep over the cereal bowl; it will buzz your feet until they start dancing in the middle of the night. it’s grief that inspires the unlikeliest of bedfellows. it will convince you, tugging at the hem of your ragged cotton robe — the one you’ve had since your father bought it for you in latakia when you were fifteen, the one that will always smell hazily of summer — that the building is on fire, the world is on fire, and you’ll only find water in one place: a city as far away from here as you can imagine. grief will pack your bag, quit your job, buy a white dress. it will make you say yes.

the arsonists’ city, hala alyan

[so-mordor-itis]

Clive my beloved...

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

( i wish i could be everything for you. family, home, watchtower, lighthouse. i am sorry for every way i've ever hurt you, including this. )

chara : clive rosfield fandom : final fantasy 16 quote cr : mabel podcast a/n : ngl someone may have forgotten some of the plot in ff16. not me though

── IT WAS ONCE SAID THAT THERE ARE THREE UNIVERSAL TRUTHS IN THIS WORLD :

ONE : GRIEF IS A DEAD MAN WALKING. it will overcome you, destroy you, devour you, drown you beneath the waves of sorrow. IT WILL HURT. it always will. but it is ultimately you who deems your survival. do not forget that.

TWO : YOU WILL KNOW LONELINESS LIKE IT IS YOUR DEEPEST COMPANION. you will find familiarity with the emptiness, and it will turn into nostalgia turned to mourning twisted into an anguish. in the end, you won't know the difference between friend or foe in the coexistence of your own solitude.

THREE : THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD IS A TERRIBLY HEAVY THING, DEAREST. make sure you do not carry it alone.

it is almost amusing, you think, gaze boring into the dying embers before you, how convenient it is to forget said truths. how it slips from the mind in the most foolish of times when the truth is spoken to you ; how obnoxiously it echoes into memory when you speak of it to someone as means of lessons learned.

the truth is a very miserable thing sometimes, this sobering reminder of humanity, but it is also something so excruciatingly tender.

you shiver. the air is cold and unwelcoming. the embers burn bright, then nearly fade into nothingness : a distant flux and flow, the reignition of something that wants to survive.

what a profound sight it is, clive thinks, almost breathless at your beauty beneath the moonlight, it is a mere glimpse to the serenity that settles in the depths of your heart, almost forgotten, and in the weariness of your features, it serves as something hopeful. you must be searching for a shooting star ; you always are, and maybe he's searching for one tonight, too. how lucky you would both be if granted a wish fulfilled. perhaps it would spare you from the pain to come on this endless journey, this path to redemption and salvation.

he looks to the sky, too, hopes to remember this moment for a long while, this time in which you find repose beneath the stars.

it is not long before you feel him shift beside you, his hands gentle as he drapes his cloak over your shoulders. you do not say anything, but you smile in silent thanks, and he wonders how he can do this. how he can say this. the destruction of oneself is much easier than the destruction of another. he returns the smile, but it does not reach his eyes, and you know that something is wrong.

he averts his gaze, focuses on the fire. dying, dying, dead. fire is such a horrific being, he has learned, and what a tragic way he has discovered it so. how it burns and burns, consuming everything in its path. it is ruthless in nature-- a terror that seizes anything it can, burning it into damnation and ruin until there is nothing but ashes meant to be forgotten.

such fire runs in his blood, and with it, a quiet violence. he does not know why, doesn't know how, and he begs the question to the divine a thousand times over. there is no answer. there never is, never will be. the only thing he knows is that there is blood on his hands, and he cannot afford to shed yours. he will not.

even if it means going your separate ways, even if he means breaking your heart, even if it means carrying out an act of betrayal to the trust that has bound you to each other.

"i..." he cannot even bring himself to speak. what a coward he is. "there is something i wish to discuss with you."

you still look to the sky. the subtle curve of your lips does not falter, even with the words he does not expect to hear.

"you plan to leave, don't you?" you wonder if there is a shooting star somewhere out there, wonder if it will be kind enough to visit in times of despair. "you think this is all your fault, that you were the one who killed what you thought to be most precious."

the smile has faded. your gaze shifts to the ashes, then to him, seeing that heartache in those blue eyes. something feels like it's tightening around your throat. you suspect it is grief. you speak again, anyway.

"you think... that your existence should be void, that you should be punished for what you believe you did. that if you stay-- if you stay here, if you stay with me, then it'll happen all over again."

he does not speak for a long while. what can you even say to that? how can he tell you that you're right, that he's afraid he could hurt you to the point of no return and not know it? that he's going to leave you because he loves you?

you turn towards him, your hands reaching for his. your hold is tender, careful, but he feels the way you tremble ever so slightly. it is his fault.

"the things i've done back then--" he pauses, uncertainty in his eyes, a grief of some sort, "i didn't know it was me. i thought i had been chasing after the one responsible for my pain, but i've been chasing a ghost all along." his hands squeeze yours, and maybe they're shaking, too. "i failed my duty. there's only one path that lies ahead of me, and that is one where you are safe."

he doesn't know what to expect-- your anger, your fury. that's what he almost wants, because it is much easier to end things that way. but he doesn't expect your expression to soften, doesn't expect to feel the way your hand cups his cheek, thumb tracing over his scar. he is already on the verge of break, but this may be the one thing that pushes him over the edge, and a sorrowful smile finds its way to your lips at the tears that threaten to trail down his face.

"you don't want to go, clive." your voice is barely above a whisper, quiet, almost forgotten in the wind.

no, he doesn't. he doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to leave you, doesn't want to lose you. he wants to stay. he wants to think that there's hope somewhere, but the truth of it all is that there's just not.

"no, i don't." he places his hand over yours, instinctively leans into your touch. "i don't."

"so stay. stay with me. i know you are in despair. i know. but the truth runs deeper than any of us suspect. you can't give up, not yet." this time, your voice almost breaks. you lean forward, your forehead pressed against his. you are afraid to speak. "we are not meant for solitude, you know. the path you take is the only one i know. i will not leave you, clive. not now, not ever."

he doesn't--

he feels his heart waver, feels like his thoughts are a mess, mind a haze in the midst of mourning. he cannot help but close his eyes at your words, at your warmth. he doesn't know if he can believe you, not yet. to grant himself forgiveness is an act of selfishness, and it is not one that is deserved. not now, maybe not ever.

"you've always bested me, haven't you?" even now, he's unsure of what to say, what to do. you've always been right, always known the best course of action. even in the darkest nights of ruin, you've always managed to find the light. for that, he is grateful. "...you have my heart, always. thank you."

you smile, but this time, it is a quiet sadness, yet almost hopeful. your lips meet his-- brief, but more than enough.

the journey ahead is a long one. it will be difficult. it will be harsh, cruel, and it will push both of you to the point of break. but so long as you have each other, you will make it.

"of course." you answer, and you kiss him once more. "you have my heart, too. our paths will always be intertwined, clive."

he laces his fingers with yours, lips ghosting against the back of your hand in an act of reverence.

"yes," he murmurs, and maybe there is something holy in the way he speaks to you, looks at you, "always."

[so-mordor-itis]

Send to 10 other bloggers you think are wonderful. Keep this going to make someone smile. 💕 (no pressure)

Ah!! Bunny ty! I feel bad because I haven't been posting much lately but still I really appreciate it <3

[so-mordor-itis]

— The Carnivorous Lamb, Agustín Gómez-Arcos, tr. William Rodarmor

[so-mordor-itis]

[so-mordor-itis]

Peter's used to having rough nights, but not like this.

His mask peels off of his face so slowly, as if it's become a brand new skin. It's sticky from his sweat, slightly hardened with history. A part of his mind wanders as the night's cool air hits his skin, whispering ideals, dreams, and prayers.

Being Spidey has its perks, but it also has its faults.

As he steps away from the window, a noise of someone stumbling makes him pause. A loud tin clatter echoes from the kitchen, along with a string of curse words. Peter inhales with relief, almost snickering with delight. Only you would snack this late and cause a ruckus as you do so.

If this was the start of your relationship, he would've also followed in your footsteps and allowed a few biting words to tumble from his mouth as he did his absolute best to strip his suit off without you noticing. How that would play out: he would stumble, falling flat on his face with considerable noise; you'd then call his name with increasing concern and he'd have to shoo you away as if you were a pigeon that flew directly into his mask's lens. (That's happened so often, if he had a nickel...)

However, this wasn't the start of your relationship.

Peter pokes his head into the door frame and witnesses the cause of your colorful language. This time, he allows himself to chuckle. You start, bracing yourself against the counter. A spatula in hand, branding it as if it were a sword. "Pete.." You breathe, shaking your head. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I could say the same for you," he gestures to whatever it is that you are doing. "I entered our home, heard something break, and thought we were getting broken into. Well, it wouldn't be the first time."

"When did we last get broken into?" Your voice is now laced with anxiety, and he feels slightly bad. Did he not tell you about that one time? Maybe not, considering he is Spiderman, and he's so used to dealing with that type of crime by himself.

"Nevermind-"

"No, you can't just end it there!" You are flabbergasted, and all Peter can do is blink his pretty brown eyes and hope you forget about this in the morning.

His wish does come true, but not in the way he thought.

After you calm yourself and slam back into reality, your eyes trail over his suit and then his face. You soften as you approach. "What happened? You look so exhausted."

"I always look exhausted somehow," Peter comments. An attempt at humor. Probably not his best.

You lick the tip of your thumb to wipe some grime off his cheek. "Not like this." Your eyes scatter all over his face: his forehead, his other cheek, his nose. You are looking for any scraps or bruises.

Peter finds himself deep in his mind again, remembering the events of the day. Saving a family from a fire, the smoke dancing alongside his suit as he reached into the orange flames. Stopping a couple of bank robbers from stealing at least a good 2 grand.

Seeing Gwen's face in the crowd for the first time in what feels like a lifetime ago.

With how you are right now, fussing over him, cleaning his nose, he doesn't think he would ever be strong enough to admit it.

"Just a lot at once," He states. Peter has never been the best liar. He definitely wonders how he's been able to keep up the charade of Spiderman for this long and keeps wondering how much longer he will be able to.

You give him a look that points right through him, and he forgets how to breathe. "You don't have to tell me now." You brush his shoulders in an attempt to at least rid his suit of some wrinkles. "But, you're not alone anymore in this. Okay?"

He smiles. "It'd be hard to forget."

(Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Gwen smiles.)

[so-mordor-itis]

well, this fic isn’t going to write itself, but i’m going to wait a bit longer to make sure. 

[so-mordor-itis]

[so-mordor-itis]

Games Played in 2023: Marvel's Spider-Man (2018), Insomniac Games