#memory sequence

[aventurineswife]

"In The City Of Flowers" - Anaxagorus x Astrologist! Reader

This particular track emanates a serene and contemplative atmosphere. Similar to the previous song, but not quite the same. Maybe we could toss them on a date or something... Up to you <3

Where Petals Fall, So Too Do The Stars

Summary: In the flower-draped streets of Okhema, the Astrologist and Anaxagoras share a rare, tranquil day together. Amid music, petals, and fading sunlight, they exchange thoughts on fate, gods, and the fragility of love. A quiet moment of intimacy unfolds, woven with unspoken fears and unshakable devotion. It is a memory preserved in your mind — gentle, fleeting, and already slipping into myth.

Tags: Anaxagorus x Reader, Astrologist!Reader, Angst with Comfort, Bittersweet Romance, Found Family, Vulnerable Characters, Pre-Tragedy, Memory Sequence, Soft Moments, Existential Themes, Hand-Holding, Star Motifs, Implied Past Trauma, Slow Burn Vibes, Unspoken Love, Semi-Poetic Prose.

Warnings: Implications of character death (Anaxagoras), Discussion of mortality and godhood, Emotional vulnerability, References to past trauma, manipulation, Melancholy undertones, Romantic intimacy.

Tagslist: @sewoui, @tremendoustragedybard, @axolotsofluv

The wind carried the scent of rosewood and old books. The streets of Okhema were aglow in the golden hour, their cobbled paths scattered with petals — scattered not by design, but by wild wind and the city’s irrepressible life.

It was the one place Anaxagoras allowed himself to walk without his gloves.

You remember this day — vividly, impossibly so — the kind that burns so deep into memory it defies time. His left hand, warm against yours. His right, still gloved.

"Even gods are jealous of cities like this," he said, and his voice had that rare softness. "They hold no dominion here — only memory does."

You had argued with him earlier that morning, of course. Over a star chart. Over the meaning of a flame-shaped constellation whose pattern you claimed predicted a catastrophe, and which he stubbornly called a "statistical coincidence amplified by myth-making." His words. You’d thrown a chair. He had laughed. And now here you were, walking alongside him like nothing had happened.

Anaxagoras stopped before a street musician playing a lyre, the notes faint, meandering like drifting stardust. He tilted his head toward the music, eye half-lidded as if listening to a voice only he could hear.

"You know," he said after a pause, "I’ve always found something poetic about your belief in destiny."

"You mean foolish."

"I said poetic." A pause. “Besides, I only call things foolish when I secretly wish I believed in them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re being sentimental again, Anaxa.”

“Mm. And you’re not running away this time.”

He was right. Usually, intimacy made you freeze. But now — walking beside him, amid flowers, music, and that waning sun — you felt calm. Tethered. Real.

You paused in front of a small fountain, where dromas pecked at fallen petals floating on the surface. It reminded you of the stories he told you when you couldn’t sleep — of artificial birds, of wind-powered toys that never soared, of a boy who knelt alone beside a burned house and never once cursed the gods.

He sat on the stone edge of the fountain. His eye was brighter than the sun through stained glass. And for a long moment, he said nothing. Just... looked at you. Like he was trying to memorize every fragment of your face, should time rip it away.

Then softly — so softly — he said:

“I never thought I'd live long enough to fall in love.”

You flinched. The words stung more than they soothed.

“You won’t,” you whispered. “You’ll die, won’t you?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“I’m not scared of death,” he murmured. “I’m scared of becoming a god. Of losing the capacity to change. To fail. Of forgetting what it meant to feel—this.”

He took your hand again. This time, both hands were bare.

“I’m scared of forgetting you.”

The stars weren’t out yet, but you knew them by heart. You’d named constellations after his scars. His laughter. The asymmetry of his love.

You sat beside him, pressing your forehead to his. He smelled of dust, ink, and something sweet — Antila oil, maybe. The silence stretched between you like silk.

“If I become a god,” you whispered, “will you destroy me too?”

He smiled — that crooked, beautiful smile. “Only if you ask me nicely.”

And the petals kept falling. And the birds kept singing.

And somewhere in the echo of a future that had not yet collapsed, a Titan’s heart trembled.

[Navigation]

[aliceisaperson]

Maybe happy ending, the only broadway show where one of the instrumental tracks somehow end up being of favorite song in the show.

Not because the rest of the songs are bad but just because memory sequence is THAT GOOD.

[otaku553]

I am going to be So Insufferable about this man in 2 days.

[nabexis]

So like. Did anyone else notice that Jayce doesn't immediately shoot Viktor? He only powers his hammer on AFTER Viktor has opened his eyes. Below is Jayce's reaction to seeing Viktor (his Viktor, from his universe, not the future version of him) for the first time after walking into the dome. For the first time in months. That's like. A look of wonder. Almost reverence.

Assuming the Jinx/Rictus/Vander fight is cut to real-time after Jayce has gone into the dome, he's staring at Viktor for like. 5 minutes.

My interpretation here, of Jayce's expression just before Viktor finally opens his eyes to see Jayce in the room with him, he's committing Viktor to memory, before he has to kill him.

Edit: I almost missed it but like. HE IS SMILING For like 2 frames it's an outright smile. He leans in towards him, too. I cannot handle this.

[toastysol]

Just remembered the first time i played Cyberpunk and how I was prepared for Johnny to be an asshole, but I honestly was not prepared for how pathetic he was. Like he's actually so pathetic in his memories. Everyone wants to punch him in the balls, no one wants to talk to him, he's so desperate for more drugs he comes crawling back to the woman who just broke up with him, minutes after telling her to fuck off cause he doesn't give a shit about her. He immediately then gets stabbed through the back by some goon. His ripper confirms he never takes care of himself and never listens to anyone. Idk what my point is. He's pathetic.

[bigwetbrowneyedclub]

Viktor approaching Beast Vander like a traumatized rescue dog

looked exactly like this

[apostaticlamb]

kicking my legs and giggling over the fact that the turtles so obviously symbolize benitez. ofc we all know the fable of the tortoise and the hare (i know tortoises aren't turtles, but they're closely related enough for it to still work), with its motto of "slow and steady wins the race"- which is exactly how benitez won the papacy, in a way. but also, lawrence mentions that sometimes the turtles stray too far from the pond and get struck by cars in the busy street. near the end of the film, we have a scene of lawrence picking up a turtle and bringing it safely back to the pond; before this was the scene of benitez's confession to lawrence that he's intersex. in turn, the turtle rescue scene so obviously symbolizes lawrence keeping benitez's secret safe and protecting him.

[coffeeandtoastforbreakfast]

It’s all going up into flames…bright, white flames…

[ruikasas]

marcille icons

[homosexual-work-account]

There’s probably something to be said about the fact that Jayce’s signature resembles the pie (π) sign, a mathematical symbol that famously goes on infinitely; Jayce’s own legacy extending infinitely past the Man Of Progress symbol he was, even after death.

[benthicbyte]

and because it's a cute nickname! you're my little stardust!

(open image in new tab to see details)

[celine-song]

It seems to make me return to the place, poignantly dear to my heart, where my grandfather's house used to be in which I was born 40 years ago right on the dinner table. Each time I try to enter it, something prevents me from doing that. I see this dream again and again. And when I see those walls made of logs and the dark entrance, even in my dream I become aware that I'm only dreaming it. And the overwhelming joy is clouded by anticipation of awakening. At times something happens and I stop dreaming of the house and the pine trees of my childhood around it. Then I get depressed. And I can't wait to see this dream in which I'll be a child again and feel happy again because everything will still be ahead, everything will be possible…

Solaris (1972) / Mirror (1975) / Nostalgia (1983) / The Sacrifice (1986) dir. Andrei Tarkovsky

[blowingoffsteam2]

So you know how the Secret Place is basically a representation of Riku’s heart… I’m imagining a scenario where Sora has to dive into Riku’s heart, and whereas inside Sora’s heart was represented as the play island, inside Riku’s heart is represented as the Secret Place. Except this version of it is long and twisting like a maze, almost like it’s trying to keep Sora from finding the innermost parts of Riku’s heart.

The walls are lined with drawings of memories… but the deeper Sora goes the drawings change to dreams….wishes Riku keeps hidden.

Imagine Sora finds a drawing that at first glance looks like the drawing of him and Kairi in the Secret Place, but looking closer, it’s Riku offering Sora a paopu instead, the rock it was drawn on cracked straight through. A secret wish…

[cryskir]

Another cyberpunk sketch dump :) Sorry for the French lmao

[xmoonlitxdreamx]

danke schoen.........

[thebonedogs]

it's life, everything is made up