#it made me tear up as i was writing it

[cherrylight]

i think the reason why selfshipping can be so difficult for others is the mere fact that they think they don't deserve it. or don't deserve their f/o to love them unconditionally, or be there for them, or offer support and guidance, or be their crutch.

selfshipping is hard for those who are always the giver and never the receiver. you feel uncomfortable about selfshipping or thinking about scenarios with your f/o. or how you have no idea what to add to your selfship, what lore to even do, because you don't think you should do something like this for yourself.

but you do deserve this. you deserve to feel loved and cared for by your f/os, you deserve to create the most silliest of scenarios, you deserve to be so canon-divergent and self indulgent with your selfships. you deserve to love yourself, you deserve to receive love and care, you deserve to receive these things even if it may feel uncomfortable to.

you deserve to do things for yourself. it may take time for you to be fully yourself while doing so, but you got this! i believe in you. i believe we can overcome this together. <3

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[lost-in-fandoms]

"Tell me again."

Max hums, moving his hand in slow circles along Daniel's back, feeling his chest move against his side, his face hidden in the folds of Max's t-shirt.

He bows his head, pressing a kiss against Daniel's hair, shifting against the hotel's pillows until he's comfortable again.

"It's going to be sunny," he says, voice low, letting Daniel's curls tickle his lips and nose. "It's going to be sunset, orange, the trees all golden in the way you like."

Daniel's back shifts under his hand, his fingers twisting in Max's shirt.

"We'll be sitting in chairs, because you have old man knees, and would complain about sitting on the floor."

He twists away from the halfhearted poke in his side, then settles back.

"They will be those garden ones, the ones with the straw?"

"Wicker," Daniel corrects him softly, voice scratchy.

"Yes, wicker." He tugs Daniel even closer, not knowing how it is even possible. "With pillows, so you can curl in them like a little cat."

He smooths his hand down Daniel's back, like he does with Sassy, when she stretches out beside him on the bed, similar to how Daniel is now. Does it again when he feels Daniel's shoulders uncurl slightly.

"We will be drinking your weird beers, the expensive ones that taste worse than all the others."

"Craft beer isn't weird," Daniel argues, just like Max was expecting him to. He sounds like there's something stuck in the back of his throat, and Max kisses his hair again.

"It is weird, Daniel. Beer does not need to be that expensive."

He gives him space to reply once more, but Daniel doesn't.

"We will drink your weird beer, and we will talk about that time we ate pasta in your hotel room."

It wasn't just one time, but Max knows he doesn't need to specify. They're both thinking about the same one, illegal spaghetti ordered from room service, hidden from their trainers, sauce on the corner of Max's mouth, cleaned by Daniel's thumb first, Daniel's mouth later. And even if they aren't thinking about the same, it doesn't matter. Every plate of pasta shared, in every hotel room, would matter just as much, stepping stones in their story, just as important as that first kiss.

"And it will be rainy," Max continues, voice even lower. His t-shirt is damp, stretched by Daniel's tense fingers. Daniel's back is shuddering, even when he holds him closer and closer and closer.

"It will rain, and you will have a blanket, because you always get cold, even more when it is humid."

The thing that was in Daniel's throat is in his too now.

"We will talk about how stupid everyone was. We will say it was all unfair. But we will not be angry anymore, because it will not matter anymore."

Daniel's hair smell like Max's shampoo, even if he usually doesn't use it, because he hates how dry it makes it feel. Max can taste salt on the back of his throat as he shifts his head slightly, trying to at least keep his ears dry, now that his cheeks are a lost cause.

Daniel's breathing is a stuttered rhythm against his ribs.

"We will cook eggs," Max pushes on, pressing every word against Daniel's skin, hoping every one feels like the i love you that it is. "Because we will have chickens on your farm, like a real farm, so we will be good at cooking eggs. And you will drink your wine, and sing your songs."

His voice breaks, sudden betrayal, just as Daniel trembles in a sob, but Max pushes through. They've both always known how to push through.

"And I will ask are you happy and you will say yes," he says, making it sound like a promise, because it is a promise. "And we will not regret any of it."

He knows they won't. Not the angry moments, not the painful moments, not the annoying little moments they will never even remember. They will take all of them and throw them into the jar of their lives, little pebbles, and colorful marbles, and shards of glass smoothed out with time and love and distance, all mixed together.

"We will sit on your chairs, and they will have nothing, and we will have us."

He holds Daniel closecloseclose, because he's never learned how to let go of the things he cares about, has always clung to things with his teeth and desire bared, and he has no intention of starting now. He has no intention of starting ever.

Even if this is not the way he wanted things to happen, he doesn't believe in letting go, especially when it comes to Daniel.

He swallows, clears his throat to try and dislodge the tight knot of feelings there, raises a hand to swipe his thumb along Daniel's wet jaw.

"We will have chickens, and a garage full of dirt bikes, and I will ask Grace to teach me how to make the pasta sauce you spilled all over the carpet when you were five."

Daniel nods against his chest, fingers relaxing. His breathing is still uneven, Max's t-shirt is still damp, but he can feel him going lax against him, relaxing bit by bit.

"We will," Daniel murmurs, voice shaky enough it sounds closer to a question.

"We will," Max tells him, firm. Would be happy to tell him again and again, until Daniel's voice doesn't shake on it anymore. "We will eat so much food, and we will become fat, and we will be happy. We will."

Daniel nods again, then shifts, wiggling in Max's hold until he can properly climb on top of him, pointy elbows planted on the bed, above Max's shoulders, trembling fingers tracing the wet lines on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes soft.

When Daniel kisses him, they both taste like salt, exhaustion and the future.

[zivazivc]

my brainrot about these two can be measured in liters

[raviollies]

personal redemption with not liking any of the art ive made for this story with a composition thats actually working out okay

[irisbaggins]

Spoilers ahead for the finale!

An aspect of the final battle that got lost after Viola's amazing attack, was the fact that Tula nearly killed her son. And that, I think, is something I would really like to delve my teeth into, to properly look at what happened.

The thing that struck me the most during Tula's attack on her son, was that Jaysohn did manage to snap her out of it. In the context of the story, Jaysohn grappled his mom to get her to stop, and even after getting viciously bit by her, he still managed to get her back to herself. He managed to get to his mom fast enough, and used himself to protect the others from the mindless being Tula had become. And, even when faced with near death, this little kid manages to get back up and attack the creature that did this to his mother. Not once did he blame her, having understood enough about the situation to realise his mom was not in control. He knows, he understood, that this was Phoebe, not Tula. And so, the moment he is able to free his mom, still wounded and near death's door, he goes after Phoebe so that his mom won't be taken again.

Tula, however, was aware of everything she did to Jaysohn. She was painfully aware of how badly she hurt her son, how she nearly killed him. And, as Brennan describes;

She is broken, in a way she has never been before. She nearly killed her baby, used as a puppet because she's alive when she should have been dead. The Blue that keeps her alive is what nearly caused her to kill her son. Tula nearly lost everything, yet, once more, it was hope and love that brought her back once more. Her son brought her back.

However, she was silent for the rest of the battle until Phoebe finally fell, and Jaysohn nearly died. She was quiet, too horrified with what she nearly did. Perhaps, had more time been afforded to that moment with Tula and Jaysohn before he decided to retaliate against Phoebe, there would have been...something...that went on. A focus on the fact that it was Tula who went for another member of their family, whilst Ava went for the ground and the reactor. What would that do to her, I cannot help but wonder. What did that do to her, in the immediate aftermath, when she could slow down and process what happened. She must live with the knowledge she nearly killed her own child, and that, had he been just a little weaker or just a little slower, she would've succeeded. She might have been able to bring him back, like she did with Sybil...but she would have to live with the knowledge that she took her son's life. And that thought is horrifying.

Yet, it makes her gentleness with Lukas later all the more significant. Even with the blood of her son on her hands, she still chooses to hope for a better tomorrow. She still chooses to give Lukas - and herself - another chance, another tomorrow. Bad things could have happened, but they didn't, and they all made it out. The "what ifs" will remain in the shadows, in the nightmares, but in the daylight, she will keep her head high. It doesn't lessen the impact of her deeds or her burdens, but it can make them bearable. And, with the addition of her son's refusal to blame her, it makes it just the little easier. She deserves a new tomorrow, too.

[meownotgood]

I'm going back to bed the moment I post this but I've been having a super rough and stressful night... so for whatever reason I went back to read some of the kind asks I've received since I saved a lot... some since the first time I started writing... and I got so emotional and just began sobbing haha.... I can't believe how lucky I am...... I love writing so much.........

[lialox]

Han Sooyoung (err, Singnsong?) had it right.

Grief is like being handed a mess of threads. Sometimes the only thing a writer can do is weave a story out of it. In the untangling of it all, you're left with a finished product, and always, always, you'll find you're left with love and no one to give it to.

[moonlight-prose]

"buying matching jewelry, but it doesn't mean anything, right?" WITH FRITZ PLEASEEE

LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME

a/n: so because summer is nearing it's last month and we have limited time i wanted to go full mamma mia vibes with this one. besides the friends to lovers vibes with him and this song...perfection. it was hot all week and that spurred me to finally work on this request. so i hope you enjoy babes!

summary: being best friends with fritz meant pretending you weren't hopelessly in love. it meant conversation on the beach, and friendship rings, and the utter shock of coming to the realization that...maybe he loved you too.

word count: 2.2k+

pairing: billy 'fritz' avalone x reader

warnings: fluff, a teeny bit of angst, romance, best friends to lovers, oblivious reader + obvious fritz, talk of marriage, mamma mia vibes, he's hopelessly in love it's cute, unedited + not betad.

The ring glinted in the sunlight, gold glimmering as the ocean did when the day hit the perfect hour. When the sun was slowly creeping along the sky, making a descent towards the horizon. That wouldn't come for a few more hours, but you couldn't stop yourself from sitting on the sand, eyes trained on how waves crashed to the shore.

You couldn't hear anything over the noise - the birds squawking in the distance the loudest echo along the empty coast. Somehow you managed to catch the beach during the week. When people weren't interested because they were tired from a long work day.

It rarely happened. Maybe once in a blue moon. And you soaked in the silence of humanity—nature calling you to her with a soft smile and even softer words.

"I wondered if I'd find you here."

A familiar tug pulled at your heart as you turned, seeing a familiar figure head towards you. He still wore his flight suit, his boots sinking into the sand with each step. But that didn't deter him from plopping beside you, a cold soda in his hand. An extra handed to you.

"Mav let us go early," he said, twisting the top off and gulping enough to down half the bottle.

"How did you know I'd be here?"

He shrugged. "You're always here."

"I'm not always here."

"Sure."

"I'm not–"

The smile on his lips silenced your argument—a knowing look glimmering in his brown eyes. There was no use in fighting him. He could see your different angles coming from a mile away. Giving up now would be easiest.

With a sigh, you turned back to the beach, condensation dripping onto your dress. "I needed some time away from the bar."

You didn't have to explain anything to him. Barely even had to utter a word before your discomfort was being teased out and noticed by him. That was the thing about Fritz. He could see your emotions before they even played across your face. Yet unlike others that came before, he somehow always managed to fix it before things got too bad.

"Did you want to come to my place for dinner?"

The grin played across your lips before you could even answer. "You mean your place filled with Yale and Harvard?"

"C'mon they're not that bad." He nudged you with his knee, taking another pull from his soda. "Besides, they're gone tonight. Something about free drinks at a sports bar."

You mulled it over—the small box in your jacket pocket practically burning a hole through the fabric. "Fine. Pizza, beers, and ice cream."

"Yes ma'am."

Clambering to his feet, he helped pull you up, the sun playing across his face and illuminating the grin he wore. If you could bottle up this memory and keep it close you'd open it every day. You'd take a peek of something so perfect—as if Aphrodite herself created him—just to hold this feeling in your chest. The way he looked at you left you confused, as if he saw you in a different light than just friendship.

But you never had the guts to ask him about it. So like a coward...you continued to let it go.

"I'll order in the car."

"Wait—" You gripped his arm, tugging him back a bit as you dug in your pocket. "I got you something yesterday. They had a jewelry stand in town and saw this..."

The box was brown, small and uninteresting. Until you pulled it open. A silver band etched with vines that matched yours lay in the center. You nearly left it behind—figuring he wouldn't want to wear something so dainty—but something screamed at you the second it appeared in your line of sight. The two were paired together.

Your size and his.

As if they'd been waiting for you to find them all along.

His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat, before he picked it out of the box carefully. "A ring?"

Heat spread rapidly along your cheeks, burning straight down to your chest. "You don't have to wear it. I just thought it was pretty and matched mine and..." With a cough you turned back to see another wave crash along the shore. Suddenly that's how you felt inside. "It's dumb I know."

"No it's not." Surprised etched into your chest, your gaze snapping back to him. Just in time to see how he slipped it on his left hand, smiling when it fit perfectly. Perhaps it was always meant to be there - resting along his skin, claiming his heart for yours. "I like it. Matches my dog tags."

You laughed. "I didn't get it cause of that."

"No, I know." His smile deepened. "But that's where it's going. So it'll match."

Warmth pooled in your stomach, curling around the base of your spine as he stared at his hand. A soft grin playing on his lips. And suddenly you were breathless—flutters filling your stomach as you realized what it looked like. What the others would say once they noticed him wearing a ring on his left hand. You didn't tell him where to place it, didn't offer up a certain hand.

He did it on his own without an ounce of hesitation in his body.

He wanted it there.

When you followed him to the car, you grasped the gold band on your right hand and subtly shifted it to your left. Matching him. If he noticed he didn't question you about it. And for that...you were grateful.

Turns out you were right.

Fritz was teased—rather ruthlessly—about wearing a silver band on his ring finger. Questions rose up around base. Who did he marry? Who had they not met yet? How on Earth could Fritz of all people be hiding a secret partner?

Until you served the group at the bar and Phoenix clocked the gold band on your hand. A knowing smile curving across her lips.

Thankfully she knew how to keep your mouth shut.

The same couldn't be said about Hangman.

"Where'd you get that shiny ring darlin'?" he shouted, reaching for your hand with a shit eating smile. "Lookie here gentlemen! It matches Fritz's."

"Fuck off Hangman." You yanked your hand back with a glare, twisting back to the bar.

It's not like you didn't know this was coming. The comments, the teasing. You knew someone would notice eventually, but that isn't what left you shocked and nervous. The fact that Fritz had yet to take it off sent your mind reeling. He wore it with pride. A smile gracing his plush lips whenever someone brought it up.

You'd even heard comments of it being looped around his tags as he flew—pressed close to his chest in the cockpit of his jet.

Was he wearing it to simply show you that this is how it would be? To prove that this was a silly gift. In the hopes that you would tell him he didn't have to constantly wear it.

That thought alone filled your stomach with dread. An ache forming in the pit of your body as you watched him from across the bar. You had half a mind to go over there—tell him to give it back so Hangman would get off his ass—but he looked at ease. As if nothing could bother him when the topic of conversation fell to you.

This shouldn't bother you that much, shouldn't leave you frazzled and on edge. And you didn't think it would get any worse.

Until the phone rang on a Thursday afternoon, echoing through the empty bar. You expected someone placing an order for lunch, perhaps a reservation for a table.

Hangman's voice filtering through the receiver is what floored you—his voice low and hoarse. Like he'd been shouting for far longer than he should have. And your stomach dropped.

"He's fine. Shaken up, but fine. Told me to call you."

"W–What do you mean? What happened?"

He sighed—shaky and breathless. "Engines gave out. Had to bail."

You didn't hear the rest, a shrill high pitched ring began pulsing in your ear. The words hit the ground hard and asked for you were all you could process before the phone was slamming back onto the base and you were running to the car.

Your breath was short, eyes dazed, but all that mattered was him. The image of him laying in the middle of a valley hurt tore you in half. So you slammed your foot on the gas, speeding through the streets without care.

An explanation would have to be given to Penny when she returned. You made a note to apologize later, but the airbase was in sight and you could see Hangman waiting by the front gate—a stern expression replacing his usual egotistical grin. That seemed to scare you more than what he said on the phone.

He waved you through, jogging to where you threw your car into park. Half out of the spot and crooked. None of that fucking mattered. None of it was real, because somewhere Fritz was hurt and the panic had started to eat you alive.

"Where is he?" you gasped, leaping out of the car. "What the fuck happened?"

His hands grasped your shoulders. "He's fine. Mav is making him sit on base until things level out. He's gotta see the doctor before heading home."

"Fuck," you breathed, tears pricking your eyes. "Can I–I see him? Will they let me on–"

He nodded, already leading you towards the familiar hangar. "Why do you think I'm here sweetheart? Mav had me wait for you to arrive."

On shaky legs, you did what he said when he said it. You flashed your I.D. to someone, said a monotone hello, and let Hangman take the front. A runway was to the left of you—jets lined up on the far side—but that's not what caught your attention.

The sight of a hunched over figure on a metal chair towards the front leveled the ground beneath you. The air suddenly rushed to your lungs as reality began to filter back.

He was okay.

"Avalone!" Hangman shouted. A head of dark hair snapped up, immediately setting his sights on you.

"Will?" you called.

A helmet dropped to the ground when he stood, rushing towards you quicker than he should have. And before Hangman could intervene, you started running. You sprinted with a speed you didn't know you had in you and met him halfway. Colliding against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist tight enough to send an ache through your ribs. That didn't register, because the pain reminded you that he was still alive—still here to hug you.

"I was so scared," you gasped, digging your face into his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes falling shut. "I heard your jet crashed and just got here as soon as possible."

"'M okay," he mumbled. "I'm alive."

A sob broke free, tears streaming down your face, but that only made him tighten his hold. His breath warm along the back of your neck. Suddenly all the worries from the past week, all the anxiety you endured about what a stupid piece of jewelry meant didn't matter to you. How could it? When you nearly lost him today.

Living without Fritz wasn't something you wanted to know. It wasn't a future you wanted to have.

"I love you," you breathed, fingers curling into his hair.

He stilled, pulling back slightly until his face was directly in front of yours—nose nudging against yours. "Finally."

"What–"

The words of disbelief vanished when he kissed you. Because his lips were just as soft as you imagined, his touch was warm, and suddenly...the world around you vanished. He kissed you with a tenderness that had always existed in your friendship. A reverence he hoped you might notice one day. This wasn't due to injuries or fear. This was the final tie being knotted together in your relationship.

He didn't wear the ring to tease you. He didn't want to prove he shouldn't wear it.

He wanted to show you why he should.

"Marry me," he mumbled against your lips, the cold press of metal along your cheek sparked heat down your spine. "I've already got the ring."

Your eyes flew open to see his smile—bright and wide. "Marry you?" you breathed.

"Tomorrow."

"Will–"

"I'll take you to the courthouse. Call your mom. I'll do whatever you want, baby."

You clutched at his shoulders, searching his eyes for any falsity—any humor—and found none. "You're serious."

With a nod, he stole another kiss. His tongue swiped along yours far too quickly for your liking. "I almost died today and the only thing I could think about was that the ring around my neck wasn't real." He pulled back. "So I want to change that."

"By marrying me." The words didn't feel real, but somehow there they were.

"If you'll let me." His smile faltered slightly, hand stilling on the back of your neck. "Will...you let me?"

"Yes," you rushed out in one breath. Your eyes wide and hands pulling him close for another kiss. One he leaned into. "Yes. I'll marry you."

He smiled, tangling his fingers in your shirt - his palm sliding along bare skin. "Tomorrow," he mumbled against your lips.

"Tomorrow," you gasped.

[mourn-and-watch]

there's something really really bittersweet about how shadowheart is so obviously surprised and touched by tav remembering that she likes night orchids. it's one of the rare little things she could keep away from shar, something she wasn't robbed of, the last remembrances of a person she was, she used to be, maybe she still is — and by act 1 when she doesn't question her loyalties at all, deep down she knows shar can take that away too and she will obey as a good sharran she is. and now there's a person that will carry these last echoes of her memories for her so she can remember too, so she can be sure it was — it is real; and maybe there was someone who was doing the same once, who was preserving shadowheart they knew, shadowheart who was brought to the mirror again and again so she can be broken and rebuilt anew, but still loved night orchids and animals and stood up for the ones she cared about and couldn't help but act a little dramatic — but she can't recall who they were, their face nor name. and maybe one day shar will take tav away too, make them just another blank space in her mind — and it's sad and it's scary, because now once again there's a thought, an idea, a realisation in her half-emptied mind, that the thing is, it's not true that shar is the only one who cares for her, maybe it's never been; the thing is, every time she's brought to that mirror so there can be no one left but lady of loss

[evidenceof]

the other day i imagined the kinds of postcards nix and dick send each other after after. if they fell in love during the war and never pursued it stateside (yk, true to life etc). dick never takes the job. lew never tries to force him. they marry who they marry but send each other postcards.

dick's are all from pennsylvania, if only to show lew existing buildings and street corners, 'this isn't hicksville, lewis.' sometimes dick gets a hold of postcards of places he'd like to visit and send them to lew. lew tells himself it's only out of curiosity, the need to be out in the world when he buys himself tickets those same beaches, mountains, and quaint little towns from dick's wish-i-was-there postcards. lew sends dick a different one of different views, an i-wish-you-were here from the same places. dick keeps them in an album beside the fading photograph of him and nix in their pinks and greens. when nix has had too much to drink, his handwriting loops together furious ts and js the same way dick writes in cursive on the back of landscapes.

at some point lew tells dick that he's terrible at correspondence. dick says he knows this, he has always known this. but he doesn't tell lew they've been sending postcards to each other at least once a month. because dick wishes he wasn't counting and lew's busy doing the same. lew sends two postcards from the same place to make up for it. dick's album runs out of space so he buys another.

lew keeps dick's postcards in different coat and touser pockets. he knows he likes finding dick everywhere even in the insides of his dinner jackets. the closest thing he has now, a measly substitute he knows, to falling into step behind his best friend. dick's postcards are folded and refolded, dog-eared and thumbed down. they fall out when lew fishes out his flask from the same pockets. once lewis almost abandons the latter altogether, when the postcard, mountains of austria, was caught by an errant breeze. on the back dick wrote that one of the cows had given birth, and that he had celebrated by having not one, but two (can you believe it, lew?), cups of ice cream. lew caught the thick rectangular thing in time, all new beginnings and old habits he wished he could witness. his flask now dented forever.

they never say, 'i love you.' but at some point they stop writing, 'your friend,' and instead sign off to say, 'yours,'

'always' is left unsaid but they never stop sending each other postcards. 'yours, lewis nixon' 'yours, dick winters'

[introspectivememories]

I FORGOT I EVEN SENT THAT ASK AND YOUR RESPONSE HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK OHMSYGODDFJDJ

I seriously love your writing so much you always put a heap of emotion into it 😭😭

also adore the idea of TIM being the one who's obsessed with bear and going to such lengths just to keep seeing him, I tend to prefer happy endings so I like to think they work it out after a while but like also the angst is amazing

god the amount of yearning in this au makes me so mmmpfhhhf

god im just so sorry that it took me soo long to reply!!! you sent just as i was taking my break from tumblr and other social media :(((

i remember reading it and thinking to myself "god if i had the timbern brainworms, i could write smth for this" but then recently they've been coming back and i was a church bored out of my mind when i was like "hmmm maybe i should respond?"

and ohhh my god, when i first got it, i immediately thought about how toxic it could get and like, personally, i feel like i can't write complicated characters? if that makes sense? to me, im not very good at writing multi-dimensional characters. which to be fair, i never set out to become like a pulitzer prize winning author. i just do this for fun haha.

and like i knew that my answer to your ask was always gonna be toxic timbern but i didn't know if i could write it? ig??? bc like tim is a good person. he is!!! he just wants bear so badly. and it's past the initial physical attraction now.

he and bear are all grown up. he likes bear's wit and humor, well the wit and humor he gets to hear when bear doesn't know he's around. but bear wont let him in!!!! bear wont open himself up and tim's apologized!!!! he did!!! he doesn't even know what he did and he still apologized!!!!! and it changed nothing. bear doesn't talk to him or look at him or anything. nothing but polite professionalism.

and then one day, he sees bear on his balcony as he's swinging through the streets of gotham. and bear isn't doing anything special, he's just sitting there in sweats and no shirt and the moonlight hits his pecs just right and his shoulders are so broad and-

well he cant be blamed for stopping to take a peek, right? and maybe when he has has time he swings by more and more. just watching for longer and longer, until one day bear catches him. and as they stare at each other from opposite sides of the street, tim thinks this is it. the cold glances and frosty words are going to come back. bear's never gonna just sit on his balcony again. he's lost this too. but then-

oh.

bear sends him a hesitant wave and tim raises a trembling hand to wave back. and bear- well bear's mouth splits into a smile brilliant enough to rival the sun. beautiful like the sunrise. the promise of a new beginning. if he closes his eyes, tim thinks he can feel the sunlight's warm rays on him.

hes' hooked after that. he comes around again and again. one day bear lets him on the balcony. weeks later, bear's hugging him. weeks after that, tim's in bear's lap. and he knows it's not right. that bear thinks he's someone else. that bear doesnt want anything to do with him but how is he supposed to let this go? how is he supposed disentangle himself from bear's arms?

so he lies and he lies and he prays to any and every god he can think of, that he'll get to keep this. plus he's not really lying to bear, he's just... not talking about it! if bear asks, he'll tell him point blank. he swears it. but that's a problem for another day. things are looking up! bear said more than 5 sentences to him the other day and yesterday? he even got a small smile. it'll all work out. he'll be fine.

[decisions-at-3am]

I'll know you're gone when flowers die, The landscape beginning to dull. When the sky slowly greys, All colour fading away.

When your books and diaries, All carefully crafted. Painstakingly handbound. Lie there waiting, gathering dust.

I can't bring myself to shift them. To see your handwriting stop, Such finality would shatter me. In my mind, you're still here.

When I stop turning to look, Expecting you nearby. That's when I'll know you're truly gone, When even shadows don't linger.

[detective-ghost]

My two favorite animes I'm watching this year suddenly entered depression arcs

[emry-stars-art]

Yk what would be absolutely destroy me in the Royal au???

Abram crying.

Just... full on crying in front of kevin, who just holds him maybe a bit too tightly for him not to be affected. Abram's fingers clutching his tunic because he isn't in the evermore, dammit.

He is here, with Kev, about as safe as he could be and no one's going to call him pretty or chain and whip him.

It's hard, but at least he's being held by his brother who is stroking his hair slowly, a brother who is as devastated as he is.

And Andrew's there, outside the door desperate to do smth but can't cuz 'Ram's still not comfortable around him.

Ps. Sorry for any errors in my language I just keep thinking of your au all the. Damn. Time. And it's absolutely 🤌

Good news, anon! It’s one of the first things Abram does when he gets back to Palmetto :,)

(There’s that link and more of Kevin/Andrew taking care of Abram in this post 💕)

Find the royal au masterpost here

[crescentfool]

i love ryomina

no but seriously. even when i’m thinking about other things that captivate my interest, i find myself coming back to them and feeling like i fell down three whole flights of staircases every time i do. they are one of my favorite pairs in media and are very special to me.

it’s the way that ryoji and minato’s lives are inevitably intertwined with each other due to the circumstances 10 years ago on the moonlight bridge. without no minato, there is no ryoji. minato as he is today is because of ryoji. they have irreparably affected each other’s lives that you cannot discuss one without bringing up the other one.

ryoji mochizuki, who is death, pharos, thanatos, nyx avatar, the man of many names and identities, is the perfect summation of p3′s messages and themes.

minato arisato, the wildcard and protagonist, who has boundless kindness in his actions despite the unfortunate cards handed to him.

the two of them complement each other and tell a beautiful story from start to finish.

minato’s personas capture this perfectly. he awakens to orpheus, who’s flames burns bright, is snuffed out by thanatos during the encounter against the arcana magician. a visual precursor of the idea that ryoji stole from the life that minato could have had.

it’s the way that over the course of the game as minato interacts with pharos, talking throughout the dark hour, forging a bond that cannot be broken, that allows ryoji to exist. minato humanizes death.

november. the bells toll, calling the appriser. and yet, it’s peaceful... quiet, and full of life. ryoji, who breaks free from death’s chains, refusing his role, is given the chance to live for a month. to make the most of the humanity that minato has given him over those ten years. and what a life he lived. ryoji’s life is a reflection of what minato’s life could have been like in another universe.

it is the way the two of them are reflections of each other. ryoji with his hair down is just like minato. they are both stubbornly committed to choosing to be kind, to love life, yet are chained down by the cards the narrative dealt them with. they finish each other’s sentences, knowing each other intimately in a way no one else does.

how is that, a boy who lived for only one month, profoundly changes the course of the narrative? he is simultaneously relevant and irrelevant. blink, and you miss it, the beautiful life that he led.

ryoji is horrified at the revelations of being the appriser. he who so desperately wished to forget that his existence was meant to bring the end to all life, was unable to escape the inevitability of death. in a non-human way, of course. he becomes remorseful. a shadow of his brief time as a human who was enamored by the small beautiful things that life had to offer.

he is swallowed by grief. grief knowing that his very existence will take away not only minato’s life, but everyone else’s. the very thing that ryoji loved- life, fundamentally went against the role he was born for- to be the harbinger of death. and unable to grapple with this sadness he believes that the best thing for minato to do is to kill him, so that SEES can live in bliss not knowing about their inevitable end.

SEES is left rattled, calling into question what the meaning of life is and what they do when faced against the inevitability of death.

and!!! minato chooses!! for ryoji to live!! even in spite of what ryoji is MEANT to embody, minato still stubbornly chooses to defy death itself! and if that’s not cool i don’t know what is!! minato wants everyone to have the chance to live!!

so he climbs. he ascends tartarus, to meet ryoji, again, who is now the nyx avatar. and i just think there’s something so so beautiful about being able to use messiah, minato’s ultimate persona, against nyx avatar.

messiah, being the fusion of orpheus and thanatos is peak ryomina to me. because ryoji and minato have established an unbreakable bond from having been entwined for 10 years, minato still has a piece of death with him, and by proxy!! ryoji is able to defy and rebel against nyx trying to bring the fall! and i think that’s fucking cool shit if you ask me!

even when all of the arcanas have been gone through, it’s still not enough to stop the fall. and yet. minato knows. in the way that ryoji was sealed in minato 10 years ago by aigis... minato becomes the great seal so that everyone can live. it comes full circle.

march rolls around. he fulfills his promise to SEES on graduation day. minato dies from exhaustion. but goddamn does his sacrifice make me weep- he’s had such, such a tiring journey. he’s been through so many things because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. but at the end of it all, he’s reunited with ryoji in death.

and i think this is why ryomina continues to evoke so much emotions for me, to this day. the relationship that they have embodies so much of persona 3′s messages and themes that it makes me feel like a microwave with nothing running in it.

p3′s message is very hopeful, for me. my favorite takeaway from it is that even if death is inevitable, appreciating the life that we were given and choosing to live as best as we can with kindness (even if we can’t feasibly do everything), is just? really nice? and you see this manifest in both ryoji and minato’s personalities and what they do for the other characters.

ryomina just feels so distinct to me, the flavor that their relationship ties back to my favorite takeaways from this game and im just!!  god!! i love you minato arisato! i love you ryoji mochizuki! im so glad that i could meet them! i’m happy that they changed my life! they made me want to appreciate the connections in life even if they were fleeting! they made me!! want to pay attention to the good moments in life and cherish them!

i love ryomina so much!!! i’m so glad that these two could bring so much joy into my life! and i hope that others can have this joy too! 💛💙