#always been fascinated by this poem

[velvetjune]

Spoilers for Alan Wake 2: the final draft—trying to figure out who wrote the dark poems that are found like manuscript pages and painted near the overlaps/murder sites. might be a case of “is it alan, scratch, zane, or the grandmaster? yes”

[astrxealis]

okay rambles but i started creatively writing in like ... 5th grade? and. oh god just a little encouragement to anyone looking to get into writing or insecure or whatnot, but HELLS, maybe it's to he expected with my (obviously) very young age and inexperience with writing then, but my writing was really. yeah. Yeah. but then i'm what... a lot older now, obviously, and my writing has gotten leagues better. i'm probably not a good example for this bcs childhood years development stuff are different etc etc BUT practicing writing more and whatnot really does go a long way :]

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 177

Adjective: Bioluminescent

Noun: Deer

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Bioluminescent: a living organism, such as fireflies and deep-sea fishes, that have the capabilities of emitting light biochemically; of the light emitted by organisms such as fireflies and deep-sea fishes

Deer: a hoofed grazing or browsing animal, with branched bony antlers that are shed annually and typically borne only by the male

[season-of-the-squirrels]

missed connection

except, no, not really, because i could call you up and say this to your face if i wanted. this is a missed connection for the people we used to be. for the person i hated being, the person who just wanted you.

missed connection from the girl who hugged your friend first because she didn’t see you behind and the foot was already in the doorway and your arms brush the skin beneath the raw hem of my t-shirt like it was on purpose. i looked at you and blacked out like i’d taken four shots of tequila and didn’t wake up until three hours later.

my head is like a car that won’t start. it just sits in the driveway with the music too loud but it won’t go anywhere. and i have work in the morning, i have friends to visit, groceries to by and appointments to be late for and i wish i wish i wish with all my heart that i could forget i ever loved you.

[coco-loco-nut]

Look for the Light

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You are Oscar’s best friend, but when you get sick, how is he going to cope

TW: cancer, death, grief

You will probably cry, I did while writing it at 3am

Based off of the song from Only Murders in the Building

requests are open! masterlist

———————————

Being Oscar’s best friend was the best thing you had achieved in your life, and you made sure the both of you knew it. You grew up a few houses from each other and from the moment you both met, you were inseparable. Spending your childhood on the beach, playing and having adventures of a lifetime. He never minded going to explore with you, especially the lighthouses, they fascinated you. The silent call, the notion of looking for safety, looking for the light. Oscar adored that about you, it’s why he always wanted to spend time with his best friend.

That didn’t stop when Oscar started karting, in fact, you were his number one supporter. As his career took off, he never missed a chance to hang out with you, nor you with him. Some of his friends back home throughout the years teased him about your relationship, but both of you knew that there was nothing more to it other than the tight knit bond, once that was more akin to siblings than romantic.

It was one early fall weekend that you both were on the beach, near your favorite lighthouse when you collapsed. It shifted your worlds forever. Oscar became more reserved and you spent more and more time in the hospital for treatments.

It was cancer, caught early and quickly curable, plus, you were young and healthy, at least that’s what the doctor said. That’s what you all thought. The doctor was right, at least the first time.

You stopped going to his races, falling out of the racing world’s eye, but the bond between you was stronger than ever, especially as his career took off even more. When you ended up in treatment for the second time, he was even more determined to spend time with you. Even now, he sits by your bedside watching a race. He looks at you closely, your skin losing some color and the adventurous spark dimmed in your eyes.

“I love you, Y/n. I’m scared, I can’t lose you,” Oscar admits one day. You both knew what he meant. You are basically his sister.

“Os, it’s ok. I am too, but we gotta be brave,” you choke a little, tears welling in your eyes. The spark in your eyes has all but dimmed out, you find it harder to get through each day.

Oscar is getting his first real shot at F1, but he doesn’t want to miss a moment with his best friend, the one who he has vet every girl he’s dated, because if anyone knows him best, it’s you. The one person he can keep private from his public life, he can hide your pain and suffering from his crazy world.

“It’s not fair,” his eyes well up. The air is thick, the looming darkness has been settling in, the both of you don’t want to acknowledge the truth of it.

“Oscar,” your frail hand grabs his. “I love you, you are my brother, my closest friend, and I am incredibly grateful that you are in my life. Now, adventure is calling, so go and be brave,” you give him your best smile, not wanting to waste his F1 Australia debut, in Melbourne nonetheless, worrying.

“Y/n, I’ll wait by the shore for you,” he says, and you squeeze his had tighter.

“My love is a lighthouse, look for the light,” you whisper. He glances at the clock and with a heavy heart leaves the room to go to the track. Socials think that he is just going charity visits this week since he is home, but the man is so reserved even Lando can’t get him to talk. He calls every night, and you demand to have the races on while you write in your notebook.

Your family is in the room with you, you had taken a turn for the worse overnight but you didn’t want to worry Oscar, not when the race in Melbourne was today, not when you knew what it meant to him. You finished the poem you were writing as there were ten laps left, the strength to write leaving you.

Your mom tried not to cry as she took the notebook and pen from you, your dad slipping beside you in the bed, holding onto his baby. Your mom called Oscar’s mom, who immediately picked up, knowing what the mid-race call meant.

“It’s time. She wrote to Oscar, and I don’t think she will make it past his media right after the race,” your mom chokes out, tears flowing as she hangs up and gets on the other side of you.

“Look Mom! Oscar is in the points, he made it to P8,” you smile at her weakly, your dad filming your reaction to Oscar crossing the line, but he quickly stops it when your monitor blinks irregularly. A nurse rushes in, having talked with you and your family about this moment earlier in the morning. She pushes medicine so you will be able to step into the light without pain, without suffering.

“It doesn’t hurt, I promise. Tell Oscar I love him, and thank you for every moment. I love you both, thank you for choosing me as your child and loving me forever. I will love you beyond my last breath. Look for the light. Will you sing the song to me?” You ask your mom, tears streaming down your face with a small smile.

“Hush little one, let me sing you to sleep. Moonlight has come so drift off to a dream. Sail from the day to the wonders awaiting you out there, in the deep. Off little one, chase the wind on the wave, adventure is calling so go and be brave. But if you get lost as your tossed in the dark of the sea, look for me,” your mom sings the haunting lullaby, watching your breathing slow. On the TV, the camera pans to Oscar celebrating with his team. Your eyes glimmer with happiness for the last time.

“No, baby, no,” your mom pleads, your dad pulls you tighter into him. With the last bit of energy you can muster, you squeeze their hands as your eyes close and a shuttering breath leaves your body. The screams of a mother can be heard over the flatline. The nurse unplugs your machine as another makes a phone call to Oscar’s mom, something you asked a while ago privately, knowing your parents would be too distraught. The nurses follow your wishes with heavy hearts.

———

Oscar gets back to his driver’s room with a large smile on his face, having just celebrated with the team and gone through media. The first thing he sees is his Mom’s tear stained cheeks and he drops his helmet.

“No,” he whispers.

“She’s gone, Os,” his mom cries, pulling him into a hug. His body wracks with sobs. Lando sees the two and quickly leaves, having intended on congratulating his teammate, but now going to inform the team that Oscar won’t be doing press. Lando wasn’t sure what happened, but he knew it had to be personal and that was enough.

“She’s not gone, she’s not,” Oscar says after a minute. His mom wipes a tear off and looks at him with a mix of pity, sorrow, and compassion. “NO,” Oscar yells, his grief taking over, he slumps on the couch, sobbing more. The light house trinket you gifted him years ago sits on a table, a glint of sun shining off the top, as if to provide a comfort, a goodbye.

“I’m sorry. She asked me not to talk you it got worse last night. Her mom called during the race to let me know,” his mom says gently a few minutes later. Social media buzzes as pictures of Oscar’s tear stained face as he left the paddock spreads and speculation grows, but he stays silent.

The funeral is quick, small, near the beach that is home to your favorite lighthouse. It’s more of a memorial, your family having chosen to go with a closed casket burial because you didn’t want to be remembered in that state. So here Oscar is, outside Cape Otway, sitting on a rock, your unopened letter in his hand. It’s two pages, and he hasn’t had the strength to open the folded pages. He looks at the sunset, it’s rays washing over him. The ocean seems to tell him to open the letters.

Oscar,

Words cannot describe how proud I am of you. My best friend achieved his dream, what more can I ask for? More time? No. It’s odd, writing a letter about my own death. I can only assume how you feel. I’m sorry that I left you, but I never truly did. I’m in the light, I went peacefully and painlessly, surrounded by love. The sunset you see, the stars shining on you, a ray of sunshine bouncing off of something, that’s me. Don’t wait forever by the shore for me, you don’t need to weather each storm, standing by until I return. I will always be with you. Don’t be afraid to grieve, share my light wherever you go, keep me with you and alive in spirit. I love you, my best friend and brother.

Your lighthouse, beyond my last breath,

Y/n

Oscar moves your letter behind the next, his eyes looking at the poem, this one’s writing significantly harder to read. Your weak state evident in the messy lines, but it’s perfect to him.

Os- I finished the lullaby, find comfort in it when you miss me. Look for the light

Hush, little one, let me sing you to sleep

Moonlight has come, now, drift off to a dream

Sail from the day to the wonders awaiting you out there

In the deep

Off little one, chase the wind on the waves

Adventure is calling, so go and be brave

But if you get lost as you're tossed in the dark of the sea

Look for me

I will wait at the shore for you

I will weather each storm standing by 'til

Safe, you return from the night

My love is a lighthouse

So look for the light

The light

I will wait at the shore for you

I will weather each storm standing by 'til

Safe, you return from the night

My love is a lighthouse

So look for the light

The light

Oscar sniffles, carefully pocketing the papers. He pulls out his phone and watches the video he hasn’t dared to open until now, the one your father sent to him, a smile gracing his face as he sees you cheer as he crosses the line, but it drops as he hears the beeping before the video cuts. He looks up at the lighthouse for a minute, taking a picture for his personal memorial, before returning home. He changes his helmets to include a lighthouse, refusing to put one on that doesn’t.

The drivers and the McLaren team notice a shift in the driver when he appears in Baku. Lando takes it upon himself to try and get information from Oscar but fails. Instead Oscar turns to Pierre, Mick, and Charles.

“Her name was Y/n, she was my best friend, my sister. She died shortly after I crossed the finish line in Melbourne,” tears sting the young drivers eyes as he lays out his grief to the two drivers who know his pain better than anyone. Mick encourages Oscar to share the good, not the illness. It isn’t much, but the driver’s spirit has lifted a little bit, and the four agree to share their grief with each other more often, finding a healthy outlet with each other.

Lando only praised his teammate for his strength when asked about that Melbourne day, and reiterated that private matters were just that, private. Shortly after talking with the other three, Oscar sat Lando, Andrea Stella, and Zak down and let them know the basics of what happened.

“I’m sorry man, I didn’t even know you had someone that close to you,” Lando put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar looks at the sunset with a sad smile.

“It’s ok, she’s here,” Oscar says, a hand over the lighthouse on his helmet.

oscarpiastri 2 April 2023 • I will wait by the shore for you, look for the light

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[noneorother]

The puns are never ending : Aziraphale's miraculous "visable" bullet.

Aside from this closeup diagram of how to perform the bullet catch being objectively hilarious, it's also got a pretty fascinating *spelling mistake*.

If you look closely at the part of the pamphlet in red, you'll see that the bullet should be hidden in the mouth where it won't be visable. Not "not visible". Not visable. Seems innocuous enough right? But of course, the layers are never ending.

"Visable" is actually a Middle English word, *not* a modern English one. The last time it was used was before the printing press was invented, so pretty old. Here's a little background :

What's really fascinating though, is that just like the expression "dark horse", the word has two meanings : one is "Capable of good judgement, prudent" the other is "Tractable and docile".

There are also only two examples of the word in context that I can find, and they really should be sending you into orbit :

The first one is actually from Henry Lovelich's translation of the French epic poem "The Romance of Merlin" also known as the first English treatment of the Arthurian legends. It's modernized as "He was a worthy knight, valiant and visable in every fight." Which uses the "good judgment" meaning and sounds... a lot like Aziraphale in his role of guardian and protector.

Why do we care? They are standing literally in front of Excalibur, Arthur's sword.

The other one is from "Ipomadon", another middle English epic poem about a hidden identity romance between a beautiful but proud heiress, and her dark knight in disguise. "She was... visable and virtuous, meak and mild, and marvellous." Which clearly uses the "tractable and docile" meaning, but also... kinda sounds like Aziraphale in his damsel in his distress mode, which:

Ahahahah fuck off. But wait, there's more!

I originally twigged to this error because if you, like me, also happen to speak the language of la plume de ma tante, you know there's a reason why the uses happen in epic poems that originated in France: it's a loan word from old French, and still exists today in modern French, but it doesn't mean tractable and docile...

For the non-french speaking among you, it's a derivation of the verb "viser" :

Verb 1 To aim 1.To aim, to carefully direct one's gaze or a weapon towards a goal to throw something at it.

And so, if you happen to be, oh I don't know, a demon and have been alive for thousands of years and can definitely speak all the languages on earth and happen to have participated in the Arthurian age in England, when you read that pamphlet really carefully because someone is making you do a crazy stunt and there's a miracle blocker on, you could *conceivably* have read the instructions as:

"IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT YOU LOVE, DO NOT SHOOT AZIRAPHALE IN THE FACE." ________________________________________________________ Thanks to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable as always.

[grassbreads]

I've been doing a lot of reading lately about the history of vampires in fiction and how the vampire as we know it today first entered literature, and the subject is honestly fascinating. The traditional folklore around vampires and vampire-like creatures is largely very different from what we'd think of as a vampire today, and it's also very different from how vampires appeared in even their earliest literary incarnations.

For one thing, there's nothing particularly alluring about most traditional vampires. They're bloated corpses that have crawled out of their graves, not dashing mysterious counts in lonely castles. They're not a particularly stylish or sexy monster.

However, from pretty much the moment that western literature first turned to the vampire myth for inspiration, writers saw something in the concept to sexualize. The poem "Der Vampir" (The Vampire) by Heinrich August Ossenfelder is often cited as the first ever true literary depiction of a vampire (published 1748!), and it is about a man corrupting a chaste and religious woman through his unwanted kiss/vampiric bite. John William Polidori's 1819 short story "The Vampyre" is widely seen as the first work to truly codify vampire fiction, and the titular Vampyre Ruthven is in large part inspired by the womanizing Lord Byron. Le Fanu's Carmilla depicts an intense attraction between Carmilla and her victim Laura. Stoker's Count Dracula is a man with overly flushed lips and hair on his palms, marks of Victorian fears of sexuality.

From the very start, vampires in literature have been a sexual monster. They're emblems of the seductive and terrible—the kiss of death that you can't help but be drawn to anyway. A violent forced intimacy that will corrupt you and drain away your very life force. There's a great deal of xenophobia and fear of the un-christian in early vampire fiction as well, but the fear of sex and sexual assault have always been a driver of literary vampires' horror and allure. Writers seem eternally split between desire for the vampire and revulsion at that very lust, even from the moments that the creatures first graced the page.

There's a great tradition of vampiric fiction both using vampirism to evoke sexual predators and making vampires themselves desirably sexy. Thus, given that it is very concerned with sexual assault and bodily autonomy as themes, often uses predation by a vampire to evoke sexual violence, and is deeply horny about vampires and blood drinking, Jun Mochizuki's The Case Study of Vanitas is actually one of if not the best modern successor to the canon of early vampire literature. In this essay, I will

[aikatoru]

hi bby !!! wanted to request if u could write smth angsty where reader has a bad experience with relationships and geto or nanami (or any jjk character u prefer !!) helps experience what love is again (it sounds a lil corny im sorry 🥲 but the plot is based of a poem i made jajejajww)

thank you bby and have a nice dayy !!! 💛🩷

Someone You Love Note: (Hope you like it Riri!!)

Nanami x female reader angst

Word count: 1.5K words.

Warnings: Angst, cheating, kissing, making love, unprotected sex, pulling out, aftercare.

Summary:

When you found out your boyfriend cheated on you, you swore to never love again but fate had other plans when they intertwined your path with Nanami’s.

(Not proofread so please be kind)

Tagging: @planetoshun

Dividers are by myself

Love has always been such a funny little thing. The very word fascinates you. It’s just a four letter word and yet it carries so much weight. It can make a heart flutter, butterflies appear in your stomach and a smile form on your lips, as you hear your boyfriend told you that he loved you for the very first time.

It made you dizzy and filled with tremendous joy and in your daze, you pulled him in for a kiss. In that moment that was love, cause that was all you knew.

You never once thought that someone could just throw “I love yous” so easily, never once doubted him. In your naivety, you believed him as he held your hand and told you that you were the most beautiful woman in the world, you believed him when he told you that you’re special.

You let him make love to you, cause you were in love. He told you that you’re the best he’s ever had and you believed him. You let your guard down because you believed that you could trust him.

He was your everything. He made you feel safe and loved, he made you feel okay to be emotionally dependent on him. He was your best friend, until he started getting distant.

He stopped answering your texts as often and miss your calls a few times. Started coming by in the dead of the night, always wanting one thing, sex. And you would always give in, because you loved him and you thought he loved you.

It was only when he completely ghosted you, ignoring all your texts and calls, never once coming to see you, that you started to doubt. And yet, you held hope that he still loved you, so you went looking for him.

Hope came crashing down like a ton of bricks as you watch your boyfriend smiling and talking with another woman, reciting the same words he had once said to you on your dates, telling her the same “I love yous” you’ve always loved hearing.

Tears quickly formed and flowed down uncontrollably and you left, afraid of getting spotted, afraid of what he might think if he were to see you like this, because even after all that, you still care what he thought.

Yes, Love was a funny little word. And at that point you were done with it.

No longer will you love again, you swore to yourself.

But fate had other plans when they intertwined your path with Nanami’s.

He was overworked and sleep deprived. You had met him in the bar where you worked, nursing a glass of beer one night. He had just been staring at his glass the entire time and so you felt the urge to ask him if he was alright.

He snapped out of his thoughts and cleared his throat as he nodded and told you that he was fine, grabbing his glass and taking a large swig.

He ordered two more beers and a couple of shots. By the time he was done, he was stumbling all over himself, struggling to stand even. You managed to catch him just before he falls over. You tried asking him where he’s staying but he couldn’t form a coherent answer, your boss told you to just leave him on the bench outside but you refused and dragged him back to your apartment.

Nanami wakes up with a raging hangover the next day, his head was pounding and he looks around not recognizing where he was, slowly getting up to look around, only to find you in nothing but an oversized t-shirt…if you were wearing shorts it did little to cover your exposed thighs from his wandering eyes.

Your back was facing him as you were cooking in your small kitchen. He cleared his throat to make his presence known and you jumped, a little startled from it. Turning to face him, you gave him a small smile telling him that breakfast was almost ready and to take a seat at the table.

Fascinated by the unknown, he decided to not question it and just do as you said.

After a while he was greeted with a plate of pancakes and a glass of warm milk as you took a seat in front of him. You pass him an aspirin and he said a simple thank you before downing everything, he was hungry, he hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

You watched him eat in fascination. Taking small bites of your own plate, you didn’t quite realize just how good looking he was, you didn’t get a very good look last night.

When he was finished eating, you giggled as you told him that he had some syrup on the side of his mouth. He tried wiping it off but didn’t get it so you offered to help, leaning over the table, reaching out your hand to gently wipe at his mouth, but you lingered there, hand still resting on his face, eyes meeting his, searching, for something you’re not quite sure until finally someone leans in and your lips meet in a tender kiss.

And there it was again, the butterflies. That damn awful feeling again. It was addictive and that was how you find yourself spread out on the table getting fucked by the stranger you had just met last night. Dirty plates crashed on the floor as you continued your sexcapade.

You gasped as his cock pounded into you, scratching up his back, you never had someone as big as him before and the stretch was absolutely delicious.

He couldn’t help but rip your shirt to shreds desperate to see more of your skin, kissing every single inch of your expose flesh.

It was all so good, you were so good and he wanted more, he wanted you. Your tight wet pussy was so inviting as it squeezes around his thick girth.

His hips meeting yours in a sinful manner, his tip bruising your cervix with every thrust, causing you to squirm and moan in his hold.

But the lewd sounds of your increasing slick was a dead indicator that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You couldn’t help but scream as you hit your climax, walls squeezing, creaming all over his cock. Nanami chokes, quickly pulling out to spray all over your stomach.

Pumping his cock a few more times to coat your pussy in his cum.

After the high wears off, Nanami was the first to get up and head to the bathroom, coming back with a wet towel to clean you up. And after that he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, lying you down on your bed, getting you under the covers and spooning you.

It was funny, it was strange. You had just met this person and already you felt like he has done so much more for you, than your ex boyfriend ever has. Or probably you were just not used to aftercare.

But being in Nanami’s arms made you feel safe and you find yourself falling asleep sooner than you’d expected.

And that was how your relationship started, you found out that his name was Nanami Kento and that he was a salaryman with crazy work hours and a measly pay, when you had questioned why he continued working there, he kept quiet about it and you didn’t want to push him. You were not one to talk after all, working as a mere waitress in a bar. It wasn’t exactly first class either.

Since you both weren’t making much money, you couldn’t afford to go on much extravagant dates but what you both lack in money was more than made up for in sex.

You literally spend almost every single night fucking each other like rabbits, never getting enough of each other. How could you when Nanami Kento was a fucking menace. Always acting so gentle and sweet but rutting into you so aggressively leaving bruises in his wake.

You started spending more and more time together and on one lazy Sunday afternoon, while you were lying in bed and Nanami was stroking your hair, you finally confessed, telling him that you love him. And you didn’t miss the way he paused in  his movements and sighs before giving you a smile, asking you if you were hungry, diverting the conversation.

Maybe you should have taken that as a warning sign, maybe you should have seen it for what it was, but you were so blinded, so wanting to be loved that you overlooked it all.

And maybe that’s why one day, he stops contacting you altogether. No calls, no texts and no more coming over.

At first you thought he was just busy, maybe work just got way too much for him so you decided to visit him at his workplace, only to find out that he’s quit his job and no one knows where he went.

It was as if he was a ghost, there was no trace of him except for the scent he left on your sheets. And as you sobbed on your bed, wrapping yourself up in the blankets that smelled so much like him, trying to remember what it was like to have him hold you…you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about you too even for just a second…

…left to nurse your broken heart once again, you were just getting used to being someone he loves.

The End

© Aikatoru - I do not give permission to plagiarize, translate or repost any of my works.

[transhawks]

Top Ten Hawks Moments of 2023

For Keigo's Birthday and for the end of this year, I have decided to make my top ten Hawks moments for all the chapters published this year.

10. "Hawks" gets torn into shreds by AFO

we had a lot of near-deaths for Hawks this year, but I think this was the most memorable as it happened, giving a very needed burst of humor to the AFO vs Hawks and the Heroes fight. Tokoyami's reaction was particularity heartbreaking.

9. Whatever Level of Gay was Achieved Here

This entire chapter was framed in a way that constantly put Hawks and AFO contrasting and melding and there are panels where their thoughts connect. I thought it was a very good way for Hori to make their dynamic fighting each other stand out. Also, the fight was ridiculously homoerotic.

8. Hawks Reminds Us It's About Connections, Stupid.

A theme for the post-Jaku part of this manga has always been heroes needing to bridge that gap and see if they can connect with the villains. It's interesting that Hawks has been the canon mouthpiece among the adults for that view when he so utterly failed his own narrative-assigned connection. I know there was so much pushback in this moment because Keigo again thought of Endeavor, but it stood out to me in repeating this allegory of OFA linking everyone as the solution to the conflict in the first place.

7. Realizing They All Have the Power to Make Their Own Narrative

Against a villain like One For All who wants to believe he's in his own light-novel, Keigo's own issues distinguishing reality and fantasies managed to settle down. He's always resigned himself to being a caged bird and a martyr, so being pitted against a villain so into life being a foregone conclusion helped Keigo remember they all have more agency than they give them credit for.

6. I think all of Keigo's Rizz was in Fierce Wings

Seriously, this is his normal fake hero persona on STEROIDS? It's fascinating how naturally this stuff comes to him. Like damn, he even has his tongue out, mocking All For One as he gets hoisted by his own petard, and has an arm around a vestige lady who looks suspiciously like All For One's mom, which I am accepting as canon until told otherwise. Say what you want about Hawks, for all his failures and paradoxes, the dude has serious BDE. I'd rate this higher but he had a lot of good moments.

5. Nothing beside remains, round the decay

Probably one of the most striking panels this year, seeing a defeated, quirkless Keigo struggle to get up and meet the horde of encroaching Toga-Twice clones, holding the last remaining feather in a landscape of complete destruction made me think heavily of the Ozymandias poem. Keigo, who has always represented the hero system with his whole diamond-insignia carrying chest, seeing all the consequences of his actions and the futility of his actions in stopping the very future he'd allowed himself to commit murder to prevent. I wonder if it struck him how little it all meant as he faced his "presumed" doom.

4. Farewell, Fierce Wings!

we bid goodbye to the quirk that continued to fight even as it was stolen into the eldritchian amalgamation that is All For One! The look in the vestige's face is so resigned and bitter-sweet as he decays away. Keigo isn't his quirk, but it's remarkable how willing to face death both of them are.

3. What he really wants

The interesting thing is the narration implies that either Keigo was telling Naomasa that the aging made AFO stronger as the battle happened, or still had enough control over his emotional state after being left in the dirt to tell him what he observed. The latter is, well, not that surprising when it comes to Keigo, who won't let being quirkless or maimed or delimbed get in the way of being at his job, but that's not what Hori shows us.

No, Hori doesn't show us Keigo standing up or sitting up, no he shows us a Keigo clinging to Tokoyami, a complete break in the many masks he wears to show actual devastation and need for comfort.

There's no Keigo pretending he's okay. There's just one panel showing us a young man embracing his unconscious student after probably one of the most horrific experiences in his life. Keigo, who has been mentioned to be a person who puts so much distance himself and other people, is the one the one clinging to Fumikage.

2. He really was, wasn't he?

As the Twice clones disappear, we see a melting Toga-Twice on the brink of killing Keigo, who makes no move to stop her as she slices him open. No, he seems almost penitent as he accepts death, only pausing to tell her he knows why she's killing him. Make no mistake, the moment he saw Twice back, he knew what this was all about; killing Jin. In this moment, he doesn't hold himself back with saying killing Jin was necessary - the future Jin's murder was meant to prevent came about anyway, no, this is just Keigo being honest that he really liked Jin, anyway. This panel might show the first real regret we've gotten from him, which is likely why he was so open about not fighting back. Because Keigo knows that he does "deserve" this.

1. Haven’t you already done your best, Hawks?

Chapter 185, this panel introduces us to Hawks.

Two hundred chapters later and we finally see Hawks, for all intents and purposes, resoundingly defeated. His quirk is gone. The army he had as back up, defeated. His student lying defenseless beside him. His hero-partner having left to fight his own battles.

And yet, despite it all, despite losing his quirk, despite every sign of failure around him, especially as he now has to reckon with his own moral event horizon, Keigo's capable of saying one thing:

[ajdahak]

♡ Character : Neteyam x reader

♡ Request : Could you write about neteyam dating a human s/o? How he adores her human features, especially the height difference. Same goes with the reader, she fascinates his little ears and idk but maybe how his tail wags around like a dog when he sees her ABSIDGJASD THAT SOUNDED WEIRD BUT BASICALLY ALL I WANT IS FLUFF 😭😭 Hopefully that makes sense 😅 @justcallmesky

♡ Genre : Fluff

♡ A/N : Heeyyy, sorry again if I take time to write, I try to do my best and be completely satisfied with my work before posting but it’s always difficult, I hope you like what I wrote. English is not the language I speak be indulgent please 🫶🏻

“Can…can I touch your face ?”

The sudden and hesitant request of Neteyam made you look up in his direction.

“You want…to touch my face ?”

You where looking at him with wide eyes, your finger pointing to yourself and mouth slowly agape. Feeling your eyes on him, Neteyam lowered his head, not wanting to show how embarrassed he was.

To be honest, you were rather surprised by his request. He had never asked you to touch your face, it was a simple request and yet you couldn't do anything about the fact that you were embarrassed. Apparently, he took your silence for a negative answer.

“I understand that you don’t want to. I just…Well…it’s been a while since we’ve been together and…I wondered…” He whispered so quietly, making you forgot for an instant about your insecurities. How could you say no to him?

You got up, crossing the room where there was air that you could breathe, you positioned yourself in front of the boy you loved. A smile appeared on his face.

“Of course you can. But why this request ?”

The eldest of the Sully family suddenly seemed embarrassed by this question, fleeing your gaze.

“It’s that..”

Slowly, his hand came into contact with your (h/c) hair, placing a lock at the back of your little ear. You didn’t let go of his eyes.

“Your eyes on me makes me nervous.”

“Oh, sorry! I-”

“No, don’t look away, that’s not what I meant. I like it when you look at me... I find your eyes beautiful.”

For him, your eyes contained in them a galaxy, your tears seemed to be pearled with stars, in any case, even if they seem beautiful in his thoughts, Neteyam will never let them flow.

You blush slightly at this remark, making the boy smile. This did not prevent you from speaking.

“Do you know what I like about you Nete ?” You asked, receiving only an eyebrow raise from him “What looks like freckles on your face.”

You pointed to the white dotted lines that used to light up in the dark.

“I find it beautiful, it’s like I was watching a starry night, but on a face” you laughed at the end of the sentence.

He smiled at your sweet laugh, looking at you with adoration. Your voice resounded like a sweet poem that would be told to children, surely this one in particular who cast a spell of love on him when you met him.

“Your ears are also very cute, it looks like a cat, but your tail reminds me of a dog” especially when you move it when you are happy, you thought for yourself.

“I have... no idea what it looks like.”

“Buuuttt.. I showed you pictures last time !”

Neteyam seemed embarrassed, not remembering it anymore.

“Ahh it’s okay, I’ll show you back another day.”

You put your hands on his cheeks that you loved so much, forcing him a little to lean forward so that you could see him better. When you directly threatened his personal space, the tip of his nose and ears began to heat up without permission, as if he were immersed in a cloud dream, softened by your delicacy. To have even more physical contact, the boy had to hold your hands with his own, caressing the top with his thumb, notifying how pleasant the fabric of your skin was.

“So, why did you want to touch my face ?” You asked again.

“I just wanted to feel the face of the women I love…” he replied, earning a smile from you.

“And do you like it ?”

You asked, surprising him.

“Of course ! Your face is as kind as your heart…” he said sincerely.

Seeing you smile with a radiance that even the sun would wear glasses, the Na’vi smiled in turn, so much his happiness could be felt that one could believe that his teeth emitted light. He let you get closer to his face, everything was going so fast that he did not hit the moment, and here he is with a kiss on the nose of the girl he loves.

“Do you know what I prefer most about you (y/n) ?”

You shook your head negatively, confused. He moistened his lips, and then observed yours. His fingers slipped to your chin, as if they were trying to find their way on your face, which was an enigma on its own. A small gesture of hesitation was understood on his head, then, a gentle pressure from his hand brought your two faces closer, attracting them dangerously.

The contact of your lips was soft, similar to that of the look that could be worn on the moon. With the joints joined, the kiss was no longer than the duration of the shooting star, and like the shooting stars, it offered him an incredible feeling of luck.

“Everything in you seems straight out of a dream. Nga yawne lu oer.”

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy

Jade Leech x Reader

“I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them . . . . I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp . . . I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and all the secrets have gone gasping into the world.” -Excerpt from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket

Jade is not as fickle as his brother, but he too is guilty of interests that come and go like the wind. There are some that stay, like hiking, foraging, and photography; but there are far more that he drops as soon as he’s figured them out. More often than not, his love is not long-lasting.

He has long accepted that any romantic relationship he finds himself in would have a very slim chance of being normal. Healthy. No, his love will likely destroy his partner, whether it is because of obsession or of fleeting interest. He thinks it wouldn’t be so bad to experience it. It would be interesting, a deviation from his norm.

You’re his target, but only because you made such a fascinating proposition. When you’re bored of me, tell me immediately, and we can break up with no hard feelings. Were you such a pragmatic person? He hadn’t noticed before. It spurs him on to know more, to learn everything about you. And once he does, once every single secret you could possibly hide is laid bare before him, he’ll lose interest like he always does and drop you like a bad habit.

So he does. Your favourite food. Colour. Season. The basic things, until they get more specific. The way you do your hair in the mornings. The recipes you favour and the ratio of their ingredients. Your reactions to his occasional unhinged comment. The shows that you laugh or cry at. The ones you think are mediocre. He files them all away in his memory, picking you apart like you’re a subject to study. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Mild interest. Once he finds out everything, he’ll grow bored and leave.

Days turn to months turn to a year. Has so much time really passed? The secrets you hold have dwindled in number. He knows you inside out, top to bottom, soul to body. There’s only one thing left that he doesn’t know.

You often tease him, asking why he won’t bring you to the Coral Sea. He always gives some shoddy excuse or the other. He isn’t so sure, himself. There’s no real reason to stall. The ice floes have retreated. His parents would be delighted. He would finally know how you’d act in his hometown, in the dark, deep sea that is so different from your home, and with that, he would finally drop you. There will be nothing new.

Unfortunately, I find myself quite busy recently. Perhaps next month. When next month comes around, he pushes it another thirty days. Then another. He was never one to procrastinate, so why now? This is far from efficient. Was he such a cowardly person? He hadn’t known before. He needs to get it done so that he will no longer have a reason to keep you by his side—

Ah. That is the issue, isn’t it?

He doesn’t know how long he’d been in love. All he knows is that he can’t get bored anymore, even if the smile you give him is the same, even if your laughter that warms his chest is unchanging, even if he brings you home. All he knows is that as much as he thought his love would be destructive, he treasures your comfort and happiness too much to think about hurting you anymore. The deadline no longer lies where your last secret is. Forever, until the seas dry up, until he breaths his last gasp—he will love you forever.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Judge Claude Frollo - Piano lesson

warning : obsession, age gap, reader is in her early 20s/ Frollo is in his early 60s, some touching, Frollo is just well Frollo, naive reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the piano passed through the Judge's face as he ran his long thin fingers over the keys. The music in his room caught and the man fell into a melody, his thoughts stopped revolving around the eternal fight against injustice, sin and the gypsies and he could concentrate on his right and faith.

But whenever he played the higher notes, he could not help but let his thoughts go to her. This flower in the stone walls of a church. The church that protected her as the holy daughter of the Dean of Paris.

This sweet flower like from the prettiest dreams and poems did not let him go when he saw her for the first time. How she was wrapped in white and red cloth decorated with gold, lighting the candles on a dark morning in the church.

He watched her closely as her gentle hands held the long candle to light the other smaller ones. She stood on tiptoe to reach the higher ones and he saw her ankles peeking out from under her dress. He saw her hair around her neck and the small smile on her lips as she hummed a song. She was like the rebirth of Mary.

She was everything. Which is why he knew he had to have her, she had to be his. His lover, his wife, his own Mary. She had to be an angel, he had convinced himself by now. He had to have her for himself and he knew that he would use all his power to make this happen.

But before he could put his plans into action, he heard the knock on his door. This timid gentle knocking which he immediately recognized. He took his fingers from the piano, stood up, smoothed out his clothes and went to the door.

The wood of the stairs creaked and he knew that there were few chances that this worked. It was his power, influence and his will why she was here.

Would be taught by him and no one else. It was him. He was the reason. ,,My dear, come in, don't freeze to death," he said after opening the door. He saw the first drops of rain spreading over the city and the dark rain clouds gathering over the city.

A sign from God to warn him, but Frollo ignored it. Ignored everything when he was criticized because he was always right. ,,Thank you, my Lord," she said softly, her voice like a little bell on his ears before he entered and closed the door. Everything would be only a question until he got what he wanted.

,,Let me help you," he said calmly and his hands, obsessed with rings, were already on her clothes. He helped her to take off her coat and to his delight he saw the dress underneath. Not as thick as in the church itself, it was airier, looser and with a slight look at her body, it clung to her.

Around her neck the silver chain with the small sacred coin blessed by her father. An instance that would not and could not stop him. ,,What a pretty necklace, my lady," he murmured, sliding his index finger over it, knowing how she looked at him. How close he was to her breasts and she had not yet been touched.

This naivety and insecurity like a flower that showed its blossoms for the first time in the sun and not in the dark church. ,,A gift for my birth" she replied, even though he already knew it, he acted as if it fascinated him before leaving her and pointing upwards.

,,Please, after you" he insisted and let her go ahead for a few seconds. He saw her lift her dress slightly so she wouldn't get stuck climbing the stairs. She wore no stockings and he could easily see her ankles and legs.

How her body moved under the dress and he imagined how she would look under the fabric. Like a pretty innocent lamb she was in her cage. My pretty little bird came to his mind before he followed her up the stairs and led her into the music room.

,,Your father instructed me to improve your piano playing, he said it was the precision and grace that was missing" he briefly recounted the information he had received in the letter that had delighted him at the time. A letter that made the wolf lick his teeth. It was as good as his. He saw her nod as she sat down at the piano and carefully tapped it, her fingers hovering over the keys.

,,It's true, it's a little difficult to hit the keys perfectly, as good as I am at this piece of music," she admitted before she saw him instruct her to play a piece. He leaned slightly on the piece of music, his gaze always looking down at her as he watched the music go through the room again, which Meloldie seemed familiar to him.

He could easily see her decollete even if the fabric was high so he saw it from his position. Watching her move her fingers over the keys, he saw the mistakes she made and knew exactly what he had to do.

Wordlessly he went over to her, sat down next to her on the chair and began to play with her, feeling her initial confusion as she stopped short and a light touch of his fingers on hers told her to continue.

He wanted to touch more of her warm soft skin and a few moments after she started playing again he let his fingers slide over hers again. ,,You play well for your age, but you need practice, try to touch my fingers to the same keys" he knew and looked at her nodding knowing that in her unworldly way she trusted him and would do whatever he asked.

,,Thank you Frollo...for your honesty" she seemed to dare after a few more minutes, her gaze slipping from him after their eyes met back to the keys of the piano and he knew it would only take more flattery to have her.

They both continued to play for some time, her fingers repeatedly brushing against his and he let his fingers glide over hers.

For her a "normal" piano lesson but for him for the devil it was everything. The two played until the end of the day when the sun was already slowly threatening to go down and he playfully affected with a sigh detached from the piano.

He had done everything to delay this moment, he had even offered her a cup of wine to delay everything a little more. And he had to admit that the look on her face with red cheeks was very thrilling for him.

,,I think that's enough for today, it's time for you to return to your Lord Father" he said and offered her a hand to get up, which she accepted. Since she was not wearing gloves, they touched again and he felt how the hellfire seemed to blaze between them.

,,I thank you my Lord Frollo...for your hospitality and your help...you are a good man" he said and for the first time he saw her smile softly, the flower blossomed and he bowed slightly taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

A gesture that would be taboo for her father, a gesture of seduction and sin, but from him it was generosity. ,,You are an enchanting company, my dear flower, I expect to see you again in a few days," he replied, releasing her hand only when he saw the blush on her cheeks. How she lowered her eyes full of shame and flattery and could not help but smile a little more.

Before he helped her put on the matel again and take her to the waiting carriage outside. She hooked up with him for the few steps and he proudly led her beside him.

The wolf and his lamb. ,,May you rest well my lady and my music find you in your dreams" he said and charm flowed over his lips he knew she loved his voice she had listened to him for hours in church reading the bible even when no one was around and it was just the two of them. ,,I pray that I will dream of it my Lord" she said goodbye before the door of the carriage closed and she drove away from the wolf who was showing his teeth.

One bite and you're my little lamb he thought and the devilish grin settled on his lips as the infernal red of the evening sun fell on him and he went back to his hiding place. Greedily waiting for the next meeting, knowing that he would make her his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[mikareo]

⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HOPELESS ROMANTIC ; geto x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode four ! ꒱ . . . word count; 0.9k ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ leaves are falling, and he is too

⊹ ⠀⠀ with so many love stories on the shelf, geto feels his heart being influenced. if he's going to fall in love with anyone...it's you.

contains; geto suguru x fem reader, university (year 2) au, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

"suguru how do you expect me to read when my heart is in a million pieces?"

he doesn't think he's ever met a person as dramatic as you are.

"these books can't teach me how to get laid."

it's kind of cute, though. annoying...but cute.

with the november breeze sweeping the leaves from every tree on campus, winter is approaching fast and geto feels like your irritation towards gojo is at an overwhelming high. there really isn't anything he can do about it. after all, he wasn't there when you oh-so-spontaneously confessed your undying love for satoru on halloween; to which you received a brutal rejection...this is why geto doesn't date— especially why he doesn't date in a world run by satoru gojo.

now, geto has done his very best at trying to distract you from the devastating heartbreak that comes with loving his best friend. there have many so many girls before you who've tried to get on with him after being ignored by the white haired boy; which is extremely insulting that any of them thought geto would be an easy target or a second option to satoru. when geto does fall in love, he hopes that it'll be with someone who chooses him first. someone who doesn't even consider their other options and believes that he's the only person in the entire world who can fit with their uneven puzzle piece. clearly, gojo isn't the person to fit with yours.

"maybe you just need to sit down and be silent?" he purses his lips in annoyance, trying his best to focus on the words of poetry and rhyme. poems are the language of love. you could take some advice from these lines. "you're talking so much that you're not even enjoying the book."

you groan. "this book is boring. who the fuck reads poetry for fun?"

um. he does.

the glare he sends your way is intimidating, but also gentle. "what would you like to read instead? since you're such an avid reader?"

his sarcasm is meant to be insulting.

a mischievous smile creeps into the corners of your lips; smile likes yours used to scare him as a child after having seen alice in wonderland one too many times. he never understood the other children's fascination with a purple, talking cat. it's just weird. "how about this one!"

the book your present to him isn't anything he's read before. actually, it's something that he hopes to never read ever. "you're kidding."

"dead serious!"

how is a cheesy romance supposed to make you feel better?

"that's just going to make you feel worse, y'know." he gently takes the book from your hands and shuffles through the pages. with his head nodding along to each words his eyes skim, it's painfully obvious that you're going to read this book imagining the male lead to be satoru. "you have such an active imagination, you'll be heartbroken all over again."

with his words, your smile melts and geto knows he's right. "satoru is a lost cause in the romance department." he explains, scooting a little closer to you and rubbing your knee. the two of you have been seated on the floor of the lovely little bookshop near campus for an hour now. you're practically the only two people in the entire store, which has made this fake date feel a little more real. "i promise that you're better off dating anyone other than him."

you don't move away from the comfort of his palm, and instead lean into it; but your words are in defense of gojo. they always are. you can't seem to find it in your heart to let him go— no matter how awful of a rejection. "he's not a bad guy. he just needs a little help learning how to love."

the look in your eyes is earnest and geto sees that you believe your statements with your whole heart.

"i can be the person to help him learn."

there's no physical tell that you're upset, but he can somehow sense that you're about to cry. maybe it's the way you slightly tensed up with your body rejecting his soft touch or the way your gaze refused to meet his; no matter, he's going to cheer you up anyways. there aren't many people that geto can make smile— but somehow, in the past four months of being your friend (?), you've become the only person he cares to cheer up.

he murmurs your name in the most comforting, gentle voice that anyone's ever spoken to you. "you are the most talented, most interesting, and most extraordinary person in the universe; and you are capable of amazing things—"

"because you are the special. suguru, i've seen the lego movie. you're not being slick." aw man.

your tone of voice is irritated, yet you still laugh. yes, geto knows that might possibly have been the stupidest and cheesiest thing he's done in his whole life, but he doesn't care. he made you smile. him! not satoru. geto suguru made you smile. it's not something he'd win an olympic medal for, though in his mind it's worth more than that. he doesn't know when you became so special to him. he doesn't know how you managed to creep your way into his heart and cause this embarrassing blush to consume his cheeks; and he isn't bothered to figure it out.

he doesn't want to rejoice in your heartbreak...however, there is a tiny part of him that's happy satoru doesn't love you back.

maybe it's finally time suguru gets to be loved.

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[mitsurismistress]

How they sleep with you

(Anemo Addition)

Venti

Drunken cuddles

Will never argue a quick nap

Look, the people don’t need him anymore

But you do <3

In his eyes at least

If he’s feeling nice, he’ll shower anyway all the alcohol and dirt from sitting in trees

But that’s rare

Sleeps on top of you, cuddling into your neck and chest

Giggles for days

Jean

It takes physically pulling her away to get her to sleep

You may have had to bride Lisa once or twice to make a melatonin of sorts

She doesn’t need to know that though

Usually she just passes out and you need to change her and make sure she takes care of herself at least a little

Though in the morning, you’ll wake up to her cuddled into your side

So at least she’s got that going for her

Please help her

Sucrose

It took you telling her months into dating she could even come into your room

She’s adorable though

Wears big nightgowns and makes you two tea for bed

She even lets you braid her hair before going to sleep

She tries to stay as as far away from you as possible

Not because she hates you

But because she thinks you hate her

You need to initiate the cuddles

And she will be the biggest cuddler ever

Clings to your side desperately

We love her though

Kiss her forehead

Xianyun

Doesn’t sleep

Doesn’t want to sleep

Wont sleep

But she will sit next to you

“You humans are so weird. Closing your eyes for hours just to rest. One would never let one’s body become so weak. In fact, one has made a device just for th-“

Yapper

She talks you to sleep

Though we love her, she’s an idiot

Sometimes will tinker with something and sit next to you on the bed

You cuddle her legs when she does that

Then she just pets your head and out her things away

“You humans are so strange…but I suppose that’s why one loves you.”

Xiao

Stares

Similarly, doesn’t sleep

But he is fascinated by you

Sometimes you’ll wake up and he’s just staring at you

If you try and cuddle him, he will go stiff (both ways) and just stares at the ceiling

Though now, when it gets to the time you usually sleep he will give you the look

Like “can we do the arms thing”

Yes Xiao. Yes we can

He hates being far away from you, so he basically forced you to basically live in the inn

Sometimes he will even bring you treats in the mornings

Kazuha

A dear

Reads you poems

Also an absolute flirt

He will recite a poem and rub up your sides

Mean about it too

Wont do anything about it

“It’s bed time, doll.”

He also brings you a bunch of pretty nightgowns from wherever he goes

He’s a sucker for them

Nights get rocky though

The boat swaying and the waves

It’s rough

He can’t get his hands off you though

His hands are always on you

Just to make sure you’re safe

Heizou

Similar to Kazuha

But he’s worse

He will be the big spoon and nip at the back of your neck

Whispering things that come to his mind as he rubs his hands on your tummy

Loves to lick your neck too

If he can stay up all night just touching you and kissing you while you sleep

He would

Usually falls asleep groping you in some way

Wakes up groping you in another way

Little bitch

Wanderer

Similar to Xianyun

He just sits there and lets you sleep

Sometimes he will leave for a while and buy you gifts

But he also likes to just stay with you

Hates the night now because all you do is snooze

“Humans…so weak…so vulnerable. I could kill you right now”

Again

Yaps

Though unlike Xianyun, he will actually lay down and hold you if you ask nicely

He likes the sound of your heart beat

So when you sleep, he will rest his head on your chest and just

Listen

He then holds you closely and just inhales your scent

Got the ability to smell just for you

Faruzan

I hate Faruzan

But I’ll try and do her Justice for you simps

She will tell you stories about her life while you sleep

Sometimes she rests on your chest

Sometimes (most of the time) you rest on hers

“I don’t need to sleep! Do you know how many years I’ve been alive and haven’t slept! Well I’ll let you know that-!”

Asleep before you

She does looks nice with her hair down

Lets you play with it

Also the last one to wake up

She sleeps like a starfish

Somehow under you now

Though she does have an ego

It goes away at night

It’s sweet

[dyns33]

A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.”

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free." "Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor thzt you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

[looneyleyle]

the self-destructive habits of a hopeless romantic ~ j. hughes

synopsis: monetizing one's self-sabotaging habits, surprisingly, has its downfalls. one of them being leaving that one attractive hockey player that is an absolute gentleman who loves you with his whole entire heart.

warnings: self-sabotage, self-deprecation, angsty (but with happy ending)

word count: 3425 words

note: once again unedited but i wanted to get this one out there

???'s pov

time and time again, the world has seen the self destructive habits of humans. well, that makes it seem serious. the world has seen the countless missed opportunities due to a fear of another's reaction. the world has seen the blunders due to saving face. the world has seen the heartbreaks due to miscommunication. time and time again, the world has seen how people sabotage their own lives for the dumbest reasons.

esther graham was no different.

in fact, she capitalized on her ability to put herself into the worst emotional distress possible. every heartbreak produced a great work of literature that would nearly sell out in bookstores all over the northeast. she wasn't a new york times best seller by any means, but she was a small town writer from mont vernon, new hampshire. she made a name for herself during her time at hamilton college in their creative writing program. in her junior year of college, she published her first book, woes of a teenage failure, a novel following what could have been for a young college drop out named sophia. the book was a hit amongst her peers and professors, and by word of mouth, ended up selling 200 copies. the book, as ms. graham remarked, was her own "what-if" story, as she almost dropped out of college the beginning of her sophomore year.

and how do i know so much about ms. graham?

well, because i am ms. esther graham.

and i'm here to tell you all about the biggest blunder of my life.

after my first book, i hit major writing block. i would stare at my computer screen for hours just to delete the only three words that i could come up with. i would sit in coffee shops, pen in hand, ready for inspiration to strike, and yet, nothing. i was nearing the end of my college career, riding on the coattails of my first and only book's success, and couldn't figure out how to continue. my professors taught me plenty of ways to try and combat writer's block, but nothing worked.

until i met ryan. a devilishly handsome man all the way from the cheese state of wisconsin, who was meeting up with some college friends for the annual boston beanpot. we had our meet cute at a nearby pizza joint, in which i sat down and started chatting with him, thinking he was a publisher that i was supposed to meet with. after realizing my blunder when he had absolutely no idea what an anthology was, he asked if i wanted to join him and his friends at the beanpot, as one of their friends had cancelled, leaving them with an extra ticket.

ryan and i dated for four months. we would take turns traveling between my college in new york and his in wisconsin until eventually it became too much, or should i say, too little for him, and he broke it off. in my rage and complete depression from the breakup, i wrote my next hit, until the sun sets, a 142-page anthology of gut-wrenching poems, which was eventually integrated into hamilton college's curriculum for their young adult modern literature class. i was quite proud of that.

after that, i found myself yet again staring at blanks screens and empty notepads.

that is, until chloe. a beautiful new york native whom i had actually met while dating ryan. she was a hostess at a restaurant ryan and i would always go to. she was pursuing her masters in psychology, which gave me fascinating insights and tactics to use in my books. we were never officially together, but we had something for almost three months before she was whisked off by some californian named ella. i never saw her again, which prompted my next book, the ninth floor, a murder mystery following a closeted lesbian couple in 1940's hollywood (it was one of the girlfriends the whole time).

at this point, when i hit a creative block for the third time, i realized that i needed my heart or brain to be in absolute shambles in order to produce my best work. i needed to be at some sort of life crisis, and the easiest way to do so was to love another and let that love be ripped out of your life.

so, i began dating for the sake of my career. it was like i sought out the most manipulative, scummy people in the world who were able to get away with it just because they were attractive. over the course of a year, my first year out of college, i dated a total of three men and one woman, and poured my emotions out into a collection of short stories titled lavender.

and that was when i met jack.

i was in new jersey for a book signing at this little bookstore which, as it turns out, was right by the prudential center. as i left the bookstore, i was nearly run over by an overly excited man-child with a giant bag slung upon his shoulder.

"luke, watch out, you nearly killed that woman!" a voice yelled from where the man came from.

"i'm so sorry about that miss, my brother can get a bit overexcited sometimes." looking at the person talking to me, i found a young, very attractive brunet with the most adorable smile. i straightened myself up instinctively, wanting to appear presentable.

"no worries. if you don't mind me asking, what got him so riled up that he almost trampled me?" the man let out a laugh at my statement.

"of course, we owe you at least that much for your near-death experience. he just got nominated for the calder trophy." he explained, as if those words meant anything to me. seeing my blank stare, he clarified. "a rookie of the year award. we play for the new jersey devils." the boy in question came up and joined us, grinning ear to ear.

"ahhh, i see. i'm not a big hockey watcher, which i know is absolute blasphemy for someone who grew up in new hampshire." his jaw nearly dropped.

"you're from up here and don't like hockey? we have to change that." he exclaimed. in my peripheral vision, i could see his brother trying to hide his laughter at his brother's forwardness.

"ill have to come and watch a game sometime." i mused.

"we have a game coming up next week against the blue jackets. i could maybe snatch you a seat in exchange for your number." he proposed. his brother snorted at that, having to turn around to hide his obvious laughter. the man paid his brother no mind, just looking at me with a big smile on his face.

"trying to bribe me mister?"

"is it working?" i put my hand out and he immediately put his phone in my hand, adding my information into his contacts.

"esther? that's nice, you look like a esther." i quirked an eyebrow at him, but continued on anyways.

"and you? what should i call you?"

"call me yours. or jack, either works." the brother was doubled over on the floor at this point, jack finally acknowledging him by kicking him slightly, making him fall over.

"anyways, ms. esther, we have to get going, but ill see you next week at our game." he put out his hand for me to shake.

"you've got yourself a deal jack."

and just like that, jack and i started talking. his eagerness was cute, he texted me no more than ten minutes after meeting me. we talked every day, mainly on calls, asking each other questions and such to get to know each other.

and sure enough, the next week, i found myself back in new jersey watching the brothers play. i assumed jack was going to be some sort of benchwarmer or something, but that didn't seem to be the case. despite my lack of hockey knowledge, i could tell the boy was good, and he had quite a fan base if the amount of women wearing his jersey meant anything. and i felt severely out of place, simply wearing a grey sweater and jeans, unlike everyone else in the stands, decked out in red.

after that, i found myself going to a couple more hockey games, for no particular reason. jack would try to explain the game over video calls and our occasional coffee meet ups, but i couldn't for the life of me wrap my head around it. why do they all get off the ice every five seconds? and what the hell is offsides?? jack always laughed at my confusion, telling me that i'd get it one day.

we spent a couple months thriving off of video chats and once-in-a-blue-moon hangouts, until i got a job as an editor for a local paper. i was good at editing, always having good grammar and an eye for design, but it wasn't my dream. despite it not being my dream, i needed a stable income, and fast. my mind was devoid of ideas, and it didn't seem like that would change any time soon.

plus, it helped that this stable income happened to be in new york city, putting me a lot closer to a certain someone. and, with me being closer, that certain someone would pop on by a lot more than before. and eventually, chinese takeout dinners turned into staying the night, which turned into coming up for the weekend, which turned into the line of friendship being crossed into something more.

and then, i made the dumbest mistake of my life.

i let him go.

now, i know what you must be thinking. he must have done something wrong, he must have cheated or neglected me or done something so completely unforgivable that i would just throw away the most amazing thing in my life. and i wish i was here to tell you that was the truth.

but it wasn't.

jack was nothing but a gentleman, and i was just a broken girl doing the only thing i knew how to do: leave. i like to tell myself that it was for my career, that i needed to write another book, that i wasn't fulfilled in my job and that i was putting myself first by doing this, but i was perfectly content with my life. i was an editor for a major publishing company, i started writing little happy poems about my mundane life with jack, and wanted nothing more. i had no reason to run away. i just woke up in his bed one day and realized that i wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and i couldn't accept that. i had gotten so used to leaving people that i assumed that they would leave me if i hadn't done so first, and i couldn't lose the one real thing i ever had.

so naturally, my self-destructive, self-sabotaging self let him go, the exact opposite of what i wanted.

and when i got back to my apartment after writing jack a confusing and half-assed letter, i cried. i cried and cried and cried, and i always wrote about characters crying until they couldn't anymore, but that day, i couldn't find the end to my tears. for hours tears would either slowly leak or violently pour from my eyes, and they never did end, not even when i passed out on my couch from exhaustion.

and after a week, i was expecting to pick myself up and start writing my next best seller, coping with my writing. but i sat there, and my florescent computer screen simply sat there, staring back at me. and when i left my apartment for a change of scenery, the blank pages of my notebook mocked me. i flipped through past works, all of them being little poems about jack, and the waterworks continued, right in the middle of a starbucks.

after a week and four days, i couldn't take it. i had to make things right, i had to at least see him. it always worked in the books, right? someone makes a huge mistake, they break up, they see each other again and realize they're both miserable without each other and then get back together and live happily ever after.

when i knocked on the door to jack's apartment, i was met with an unimpressed looking luke. at the sight of him, the waterworks started up again.

"you're an idiot, you know that?" i nodded furiously at this, sobs wrecking through my body. i couldn't see through the tears in my eyes, but i could tell the luke hadn't moved a muscle.

"he deserved better and you know that." i felt my soul being crushed. "i mean, a letter? seriously esther? and a half-assed one at that. i know damn well you don't have a degree in creative writing for that bullshit."

i opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came up. what would i say, that i was a broken person? cop out. that i did it to everyone? not much better. that i got scared? fucking coward.

"if you think that you deserve to see my brother, then i'll let you in." he told me, moving out of the way, door open wide. i just stood there, staring at him through teary eyes. my brain cheered, finally able to go in, but my feet wouldn't move.

my heart still clenched and ached, and with every thought of moving forward, into that apartment, it hurt more. jack didn't deserve this. after all the nights of him reading my poems about him and praising my work, after all the sweet things he'd say when i was down, after all the little acts of kindness he showed me, after all the love he poured into us, he didn't deserve to be broken by me. hurt people hurt people, the scholars had that right. he didn't deserve to be broken.

and so, i got ready to leave, again.

"i'm sorry." was all i said, turning around with heavy legs and a heavy heart. i heard luke let out a sigh as i walked away, closing the door behind him.

a couple of days went by and i found myself back at their apartment. i knew they wouldn't be there, they had an away game in anaheim the night before, and i knew from my time with jack that they would always spend the night in the city before coming back, especially after a win, a 5-0 win no less.

i stood there in front of their door, a small box in my hands, contemplating. jack didn't deserve this, but a selfish part of me needed this. i placed the box gingerly outside of their door and left the building. if the box was taken by some nosy neighbor, or thrown in the trash by some janitor, then it would be fate. it would be a sign to move on. but, there was a chance that jack and luke would come back to their apartment, and would pick up the box, and jack would recognize my handwriting. and, instead of throwing the box in the trash like any normal self-respecting person receiving a box from their shitty ex, he would take it to his room, and open it up to see my notebook, with a bookmark starting at the pages when i first started seeing him. and he would read the poems and maybe, just maybe, he'd see the note written on the bookmark to meet me at the park near his apartment, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to hear me out.

i went to that park every single day for exactly one month and six days, always arriving by 1 pm, never late. and i would stay there until 4 pm, waiting.

on the 37th day, i was sitting there, editing, funnily enough, a sports column about the recent devils and islanders game. i watched it, absolutely terrible game it was, the islanders beating the devils for the first time in the season. our sports journalist, while passionate and very knowledgeable about seemingly every sport out there, had a knack for writing long, run-on sentences that reflected his rambling nature. as i sat there on the same park bench i had been sitting on for the previous 36 days, a figure stopped in front of me. i finished up the sentence i was working on before looking up.

and while i hate cliches, the wind was absolutely knocked out of my lungs.

"h-hey jack." i started, immediately putting away my work, giving him my full attention.

"hey esther." a shiver ran down my spine from him just saying my name. it had been so long, and while it lost its loving tone, i welcomed it with open arms. jack moved, taking the spot next to me, looking out at the trees in front of us. when it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything, i started the conversation.

"i see you read the notebook."

"i finished it three weeks ago." he replied, voice lacking its usual emotion. tears welled up in my eyes. three weeks.

"oh."

"i came here immediately after finishing it." i felt my eyes bulge out of their sockets at that. he continued, "i went to that bench over there and watched as you fidgeted in your spot, looking frantically at everyone who passed by. i watched the next day as you sat in the pouring rain with no umbrella. i sat over on that bench every day that i was here since reading your notebook."

a silence fell upon us, my mind reeling, trying to figure out what he was trying to say, from his emotionless face to the fact that he came.

"do you know how much it hurt? waking up to empty sheets and some half-assed note with the lamest excuses on earth?" i hadn't really paid mind to the tears rolling down my cheeks until he brought that up, sending me back to that morning, quickly scribbling out some gibberish before leaving the best part of my life behind.

"i was going to wait another month, y'know. to see if you were still gonna come here every day."

"so why didn't you?" i asked, sniffling intensely, trying to calm down my sobs.

"luke said i was absolutely miserable without you. coach told me i wasn't focused. my teammates pointed out that i barely left my apartment. the icing on the cake was when my mom started asking if you would be coming over to the lakehouse this summer. i realized, as pathetic as it seems, that i can't live without you."

my attempts at stopping my crying were thrown out the window at that. i could probably fill the hudson river with the amount of tears i had shed over the past two months.

"how can i make it up to you. please, please let me make it up to you." i begged, fully facing him, my hands angrily playing with the sleeves of my shirt because if i didn't, i would be reaching out to the man in front of me.

"never pull that shit again." he bargained, looking me dead in the eyes for the first time in months. and in that moment, i saw just how bad he was doing. sunken eyes with heavy bags, his skin dull, hair slightly unkempt under his hat.

"never again." i promised, putting out my pinky to him, something he would always do when he promised me to not get hurt in games. he let out a hoarse laugh, looking away from me, and when he looked back, i saw the tears brewing in his eyes. he took my pinky in his and held it there, between us.

"now, i'm not gonna just take you right back after all that. that was really shitty and i need some time to get over that. but, as i've found out, i can't really function without you. so maybe you could start with coming to my games again, and i could take you out for coffee next week."

"sounds perfect."

i accepted my life as an editor for the local newspaper, accepted that i probably wouldn't write another page-turning sell-out book, accepted that i was completely content with whatever happened to me, so long as jack was there with me.

and with that, my self-destructive, soul-crushing, heart-breaking tendencies reached their end.