#shore leave is limited when you work as a star

[aragornsrockcollection]

So Luthien’s genes are STRONG right? Like basically everyone down to Arwen in her line is described as looking just like her.

When he arrives in Valinor I mostly see Elrond depicted as making the first move in reaching out to Elwing, which is smart because Elwing doesn’t know how she’ll be received after all those years, so giving him control of the situation is respectful.

But also she is a mother who hasn’t seen her child since he was six, (six thousand years ago), and she must be desperate to see him, the smartest approach might not be relevant to her emotional state.

So Elrond might be visited immediately upon arrival by a woman who looks quite a bit like Luthien.

And he’s never met Luthien. So really what he sees is someone who looks

JUST LIKE ARWEN.

Imagine the shock. The tears. Both of them crying for the children they lost to mortality. To the relationships they lost to war and terrible circumstances. The chaos, the drama. Bonding as grieving parents before bonding as mother and son.

I just think about this a lot.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

On God of War and "canon" in Norse mythology

Playing God of War: Ragnarök and reading writing about it reminds me of something a lot of people have trouble internalizing about Norse myth, which is is that

The vast, overwhelming majority of Norse mythology is lost and

There is no "canon" in Norse mythology

The concept of "canon" in religion is, at least in the west, very much a Christian thing (yes, it's also a feature of other religions). The idea that there is an authorized, central, divinely ordained, "official" central set of facts which are true, and everything else is fanfiction at best or heresy at worst.

And this is something we've taken with us into our general media criticism, hundreds of thousands of words exchanged between people debating which parts of Star Wars or the MCU are canon, or endlessly cycling through interpretations of what parts of Tolkien's mythos apply to each part of the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit. I've participated in those discussions, and they can be a lot of fun, but it's worth remembering that this is only one of multiple ways to approach writing and narrative.

Norse mythology has no canon. There is no set of texts that have been declared by any central authority to be "the truth" of the Allfather, or the most correct depiction of Thor. Even in its own time, before its suppression by Christianity, Viking-age sailors, farmers and warriors would not have understood their religious practise as bounded by a finite and defined set of stories. It was an oral tradition, transmitted by telling and re-telling.

Your skjald knows some stories of the gods, maybe the guy the next town over knows some different ones, and maybe you go on a trading journey with a guy from Norway who knows completely different stories and you take those home with you where they become a part of the local rotation.

The primary sources for most Norse mythology (and certainly for God of War: Ragnarök) are the Prose Edda and Poetic Edda, two collections of texts compiled in the 13th century in Iceland by Snorri Sturluson, a Christian poet and politician, as well as possibly other contributors at the same time.

They are limited by their geography, consisting only of those stories that survived in Iceland, and limited by their time period. The Viking Age is generally considered to have ended around 1050 CE, so Sturluson was compiling these stories two hundred years after the time when Norse paganism would have been the dominant religious practise in Scandinavia or indeed Iceland.

We have other sources than the Eddas, of course, but they are painfully limited: Runestones and archeological artifacts, as well as stories told about the Vikings by people who weren't them, which obviously comes with a lot of biases. The Viking-era Scandinavians themselves simply didn't leave any substantial body of written sources that survived.

Sturluson being a Christian, writing for Christian audiences, also introduces a lot of suspicion of tampering. He might have had incentive to avoid recording certain stories, for fear of being accused of spreading heresy, and he may have edited or altered aspects of the stories he did record to make them palatable to his audience, or to serve his own political purposes. This, of course, is a concern with any author writing anything ever, but since Sturluson is quite literally our only source for so many of these stories, it is impossible to check his work against competing narratives.

The consequence of all of this is that the vast majority of Norse mythology is lost. We do not know the vast majority of what that old religious practise was, we do not know the vast majority of its stories. This was a set of beliefs and stories told and transmitted across populations ranging from what is now the inland plains of Germany to the heights of the mountains of Norway to the shores and harbors of Denmark to parts of modern day Russia. These disparate populations would have had an absolutely enormous range of shared and local religious practises, they would have emphasized and cared about different gods, they would have absorbed and incorporated stories from neighboring religious groups.

This has a couple of consequences. For one thing, the whiny pissbabies crying about Angrboða being portrayed as a person of color in God of War: Ragnarök because "there were no black people in Norse mythology!" are, indeed, full of piss and expired baby oil. They don't know that, because nobody knows that.

Viking sailors made it as far as Constantinople and old Norse was once spoken in parts of Crimea. They even managed to make it across the goddamn Atlantic to found a settlement in Newfoundland, so the idea that old Norse peoples wouldn't know what a person of color is or tell stories about them is just absurd on the face of it. We have no direct evidence that they told stories about gods of color, but to look at the tiny snapshot provided by one Christian poet writing for a Christian audience in Iceland two hundred years after the Christianization of Scandinavia and confidently concluding that people of color couldn't possibly have existed in the Norse imagination is like finding the Q key off a keyboard lying on the ground and concluding there can be no such thing as vowels or the letter L.

The tiny sliver of Norse mythology that has survived to the modern day should to a modern reader be a prompt to imagine the vast possibility of what has been lost, not a reason to reduce the entire culture of my ancestors to whatever bits that were left by the time some dude in Iceland found it interesting and convenient to write them down.

Which leads us on to the other interesting consequence of the facts of Norse mythology.

It is an oral tradition, with no central canon and no central authority, whose religious practises were local and varied, whose stories were designed to be shared and picked up by whoever finds them compelling. Which means that any story we tell, now, about the gods that we find compelling is every bit as "canon" as anything that survives in the Eddas.

Which is to say: not canon at all, unless you decide to believe in it. Or, hell, even if you just find it enjoyable.

God of War: Ragnarök is as canon as Neil Gaiman's Norse Mythology is as canon as Jul i Valhal that ran on Danish TV in 2005 is as canon as the MCU Thor, is as canon as the Prose Edda, is as canon as the half-remembered re-telling of Norse myth I heard from my Danish teacher in class in 1998.

It is often very difficult for a lot of modern audiences to free themselves from the idea of "canon." We seem to instinctively want a certain set of stories to be "the real ones," a certain narrative to be the "official" one, and set adrift without that sense of central authority to guide us, a lot of people exhibit what I would call an almost resentful anxiety. If none of it is definitely true, then what is even the point of any of it? If you can't know for sure which story is the most real, then all of it must be meaningless!

And yeah. It's easy to feel that way. We live in the Age of Canon, the era of the cinematic universe and the franchise, the epoch of copyright. But that is only one way to understand stories and narrative.

If you listen to the stories of the old gods, whether out of the Eddas or re-told in pop culture, and you take some of that with you, and you pass the good bits on to someone else, then you are participating in the oldest and most sacred tradition of Norse mythology. These stories do not belong to any one author (especially not the goddamn Mouse!) or even to any one people. They were telling stories of Thor along the rivers of Russia a thousand years ago, Viking sailors scratched their names in runes in the Hagia Sophia, Islamic artifacts have been found in Viking burials. Those who look at the tradition of my ancestors and feel compelled to do enclosure around them are fools and charlatans, fearful and small-minded.

Our stories are monopolized these days by capital. Canon to them is a tool of enclosure, a way to shut people out of participating in the modern mythology they are trying to build, except with their permission and profit in mind. But there is another way.

Listen to the stories and pass them on. The story you believe in won't be the one everyone likes, and the version you tell won't be the same version someone else passes on from you. But every telling takes the soul of the teller with it, and the stories we weave together in communal tradition become a picture of every storyteller who has contributed to them. And you spite the fucking Mouse.

[literallyjustanerd]

Scenes From The Caf Hall

So I had a lot of ideas for fun clone shenanigans but none substantial enough for full fics, so I put them into a sort of montage of moments I like to believe have gone down in the GAR caf at mealtimes. No consistency in timeline, just some harmless clone fun. Enjoy!

Note: one of these scenes references there being an abundance of Chancellor Palpatine biopics in the Star Wars universe. I saw someone mention that that would be funny in a text post once but try as I might I cannot find who that was. If you know what I'm talking about please let met know so I can credit them for the inspiration!

“I’m not kriffing drinking it, Fives. I won’t do it.” Fives lets out a low, pained groan as he drops his tray on one of the benches, head lolling back in a heavy circle over his shoulders. “Then don’t,” he says, for at least the third time. Echo pays him no mind. He may as well be speaking to himself. “Why would they change it? The one good thing I could count on every day, but no, let’s take that away, too. Kriffing Republic budget cuts. Kriffing quartermasters…” Hardcase is already grinning when he joins the two, watching in amusement as Echo’s rant fades to a low, sharp muttering. “What is it this time?” he asks, sounding almost excited. Echo is too busy stabbing at his salad like he wants to draw blood to answer.

“They changed out the brand of tea in the stores,” Fives says, head propped up on his fist. A hand slapped across Hardcase’s chestplate accentuates his feigned shock. “Not your precious Tarine!” he gasps. “What would they ever replace that with?” Oblivious or uncaring of Hardcase’s mocking tone, Echo’s fury is reignited. “Generic brand.” He spits the words like poison and scowls at the taste they leave in his mouth. Like they’re profanity. Which is ironic given how he continues; “I’ll be karked nine ways into the void before those shabuire make me drink the osik’la generic brand.” “Nobody’s making you drink it, Echo,” Fives reminds him, though by now he’s resigned, fully aware that he is little more than background noise. Echo growls at his tray. A couple of nearby shinies speed their steps to hustle past their table.

“Personally, I could never taste the difference,” Jesse pipes up. He’s so unfazed by the scene that nobody had even noticed him sit down. Fives sighs. That was not the right response. “The difference is night and day!” Echo blurts, voice surely close to reaching the upper limits of pitch. “They’re making us drink dirt water!” “Not making you,” Fives mumbles. “We lay down our lives for their war every day and this is how they repay us?” “Bit dramatic.” “We work our shebse off and you’re telling me I can’t even get a decent brew after an eighteen hour shift?” Fives pauses, tilts his head. “Yeah, no, okay. That’s fair.” At last, Echo acknowledges his presence in the form of a single, righteous nod.

Across the table, Hardcase flashes that look like a child about to poke a sleeping loth cat. “Why not just drink caf instead?” Echo falls deadly silent, eyes narrowed to a slit. His response is whip-fast. “Why don’t I just shoot you right here?”

***

“Telling you, things got wild that night. Don’t remember most of it, of course, but man, it was fun.” Waxer’s pride swells at the awed gazes across the table. His new 212th vod’ike, the gold on their armour barely dry, eyes wide with awe and demanding to know more of their superiors’ exploits. It’s like a drug, the wonder and admiration, and by now the 212th veterans know the best way to get it. Battle stories were great for gaining respect, sure, but if you wanted to really wow your rookies, stories of shore leave misadventures were far more effective.

“We woke up the next morning in a motel room on the lower levels,” Boil recounts with a grin. “No clue how we got there.” “What about the twi’leks?” one shiny demands, on the edge of his seat. “The ones from 79’s, what happened to them?” Waxer and Boil share a smirk, and Waxer delivers the kicker. “No idea,” he chuckles. “But they each left one of their numbers written on our vambraces.” “I really oughta call him sometime,” Boil muses. “See if they’re free again for this New Years’.” “She really was something else,” Waxer affirms. The shinies have gone silent before them, smiles wiped clean and suddenly sitting bolt upright. It takes the lieutenants a painfully long moment to realise why.

“Sorry to interrupt, troopers,” Cody says from behind the pair, sending bolts of ice through their veins, “but this wouldn’t happen to be last New Year’s you were talking about, would it?” Waxer and Boil both fall over themselves, mumbling sheepishly in the affirmative. “Interesting…” Cody hums. “Because I seem to remember things taking place differently.” “O-oh, is that… Is that right, Commander?” Waxer sputters, and tries immediately to move the conversation on. Cody doesn’t let it. “That’s right. As I recall, the two of you had to be carried out of 79’s well before New Year struck, and sent back to the barracks in a cab, drunk off your sorry faces.” Boil swallows audibly. He too is cut off when he tries to speak. “Can’t remember which one of you it was who was crying at the time, though.” His face is trained, his smile thoroughly measured, though his amusement is still glaringly clear. “Strange how our memories play up, isn’t it?”

He leaves it at that, and turns to walk away. One of the shinies, evidently a bold one, pipes up from the table, much to the horror of his batchmates. “Commander,” he calls, and Cody pauses in his step, turns back to face them. “How would you know what happened that night, unless… unless you were at 79’s, too?” After a moment’s pause, Cody merely flashes a grin. He turns to walk away, throwing one last comment over his shoulder: “Welcome to the 212th, boys.”

***

It’s been on Jesse’s mind for a while, but only now does he get the chance to bring it up. “There are three pieces of cake on your tray,” he says. Kix doesn’t look up from his work, datapad in one hand and sandwich in the other. He looks tired, but then, Kix always looks tired. “Very observant, vod. Good job.” “You got out of night shift last week.” “Mhmm.” “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on fresher duty.” “Okay?”

Jesse rolls his eyes, peeling the lid off his preserved jogan fruit. As if to illustrate his intended point, another trooper passes by their table and surreptitiously slides a pack of biscuits across to Kix like it’s a drug deal. When Jesse’s raised eyebrow gets no response, he clears his throat pointedly. Kix finally stops tapping away at his pad. “Why does everyone keep giving you their stuff?” Jesse demands. He doesn’t like the responding smirk that passes across Kix’s face. “Why do you think?” he asks, amusement tinging the edges of his words. Jesse sighs, lacking the energy to play this game. “Would I be asking if I knew?”

The look Kix gives is weary, bemused. He drags a hand over his eyes and takes a short, sharp breath, then begins. “Being a medic sucks.” “…Uh-huh?” “Long hours, always on call, the datawork never ends. People expect me to heal three-inch stab wounds in three minutes.” Jesse’s brow furrows, hoping there’s a point to this beyond his brother’s bitching “I’m… sorry?” “But as much of a pain in the gett’se as it is,” he says, finishing the sentence around a mouthful of cake, “being in charge of keeping all you di’kute alive it has its upsides.” Jesse can only roll his eyes. “Quit being so mysterious and get to the point.” Kix sighs sharply. “Jesse, I haven’t paid for a drink in over two years.” But the dots remain unconnected, Jesse’s expression still perplexed.

Begrudgingly, Kix sets the datapad down on the table and adjusts so he’s fully facing Jesse. He scrolls back on the pad through a plethora of files until he finds one. Jesse suddenly feels like a cadet again, called into his sergeant’s office. “0742 hours. Morning after last year’s Festival of Stars. You presented to medbay. Do you remember what for?” Kix needn’t have asked the question: a searing flush has already flooded Jesse’s skin, one that draws a sadistic grin from his vod. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen it a hundred times before and since. Never in that place, though...” Jesse’s head is in his hands as Kix continues. “Didn’t know how you’d managed it at first. Course, you told me the whole story. Spotchka and pain meds are great at loosening tight lips.”

“You kept that on file?” Jesse says in a strangled whisper. Kix shrugs, unfazed. “I’m required by Republic protocol to keep a record of all assessments and procedures carried out.” Jesse’s eyes fall to the extra cakes on Kix’s tray. Kix’s smile grows, tapping his datapad proudly. “And I carry out a lot of procedures.” Jesse curses under his breath, eyes wide in the dawning realisation. “How much dirt do you have on us?” he breathes, caught somewhere between awe and abject horror. Leaning his elbows on the table, Kix raises an eyebrow and grins.

“All of it, vod. You boys are animals,” he chuckles. “The things I’ve seen…” “You mean like—” “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse.” “What about—” “Worse.” “You don’t mean—” Kix leans further forward over the table, tilting his head down at Jesse. “Worse.”

Jesse swallows, leans back in his seat and acquiesces to Kix’s warning look. As much he itches to dig further, he knows Kix is probably doing him a favour by keeping the details obscured. “So. There you go. Maybe I get out of fresher duty. But with what I see on a daily basis, I think I’m within my rights to a few gratuities in exchange for my discretion about certain topics,” he says. “Like someone’s very inventive use of contraband fireworks…?” An uncomfortable silence falls between them, dragging on until Kix finally breaks it, eyeing Jesse’s tray. “Say, that jogan fruit looks—” Jesse’s handing it over before Kix has finished the sentence.

***

“Eight times in the last week he’s lost it. Three in one day, once. One of these days I’m going to weld that blasted saber to his hand.” Rex is slumped in his seat, shaking his head at the table. His brothers all murmur their commiserations around him, in various states of consciousness. Beside him, Cody jolts upright after almost falling face-first into his mug of caf for the fourth time. Ponds puts down the spoon he’s been using to mindlessly stir his porridge for the last ten minutes straight. “Least your general lets you have fun. General Windu makes us do weapons inventory and maintenance in every single minute of free time,” he grouses. Rex huffs. “I wish General Skywalker would order us to do weapons maintenance. I’m the only reason anything gets done in the 501st.” He gets a few affirming moans, half-hearted complaints about their own generals neglecting the more unglamorous responsibilities of commanding a battalion.

“You all have it easy.” It’s Fox who throws in next, hauling himself up from where he had been splayed across Wolffe’s back. He waves away the answering protests with a lazy hand. “Didn’t you go to the theatre last night?” Bly retorts. The disdain in his voice gives away his expression, which remains unseen; he’s on his back on the floor beside the table. The jab gives Fox a sudden burst of vindictive energy. “I did, Bly. I did go to the theatre last night. And do you know what I saw?” he says. “I saw another kriffing biopic on Chancellor kriffing Palpatine’s noble and heroic rise to power.” He spears a fillet of grey meat on his tray. “If I have to sit through another minute of some actor the Chancellor wishes he looked like making an empowered speech about the sacrifices he’s made for his people, you’ll all see me at the tribunal when I’m court marshalled and decommissioned.” The others say nothing, dredging up little more than sympathetic winces or groans. A few note that Fox’s hair seems just a little greyer than it did the last time they met up.

“General Kenobi jumped off a cliff on our last assignment on Onderon,” Cody offers a short time later to break the silence. He’s barely lucid enough to mumble the words. Nobody is at all surprised by the report. After a long draw from his caf, Cody continues, seeming bored by his own words. “Found him at the bottom totally unharmed and petting a bogwing. Asked him how he knew it would be there and let him ride it down, and do you know what he said?” The vode raise their weary voices to join him in chorus for the answer: “He didn’t know it would be there.”

Silence again. Someone snores, though it’s impossible to tell who and nobody can be bothered to try. Those awake enough to think straight mourn the state of the evening so far. It was a small miracle that this many of them were all in the one place to begin with. They’d planned for drinks at 79’s after dinner. And maybe they’d still rally and somehow make it out there. Maybe, with enough caf and the GAR’s famous resolve. But for now, they’re a sorry sight to behold. Soundly and thoroughly defeated. “Why does General Yoda talk like that...?” It’s Gree, his voice a pained whimper, muffled against the table. The question is directed at nobody. “Nothing he says makes any sense. He doesn’t need to talk like that.” Bly’s hand appears from below to pat his vod’s shoulder. With a shaking breath, Gree asks it again, barely a child’s pitiful sob: “Why does he talk like that?”

A little more moaning later, they seem to come to the consensus that their Jetiise (and Chancellor) were just confounding and infuriating by nature, and that they were tragically and inescapably doomed to a life dealing with their bantha shit. “They’re hopeless,” Ponds sighs. “Ridiculous,” Bly agrees. “Children,” Rex laments. “Maniacs,” Cody says, with finality in his tone. A voice rumbles from across the table – the first time that night Wolffe had made it known that he was awake at all. “What did you say?” Rex yawns. Wolffe raises his head. “I said, speak for your kriffing selves.”

***

The table in the corner of the caf hall may as well have a reserved sign on it. It does, in a way: Wrecker carved a crude ‘99’ into one of the benches months ago. The regs tend to steer clear, although on days like these, Echo can’t really blame them. He hears it before he sees it, the first signs of an argument beginning to escalate. “Get out of my face before I blast yours off,” Crosshair snarls.  Echo almost turns and walks away. But someone will need to be around to pick up the pieces if this all goes sideways. He steps through the remaining crowd to find his place at the end of the table. Opposite him, Crosshair is hunched over like a wolf with its hackles up. Tech is beside him, one finger poised delicately approximately an eighth of a centimeter from Crosshair’s shoulder.

“I will,” he says, “the moment you explain why you are so put out when I, clearly, am not actually touching you.” The plastic fork in Crosshair’s hand snaps. “How long?” Echo asks with a heavy sigh. Hunter, eyes occupied sharpening his knife, replies, “Going on fifteen minutes.” “Think there’s a point?” Hunter shrugs, slots his knife back into its sheath. His eyes flick from Tech to Crosshair, to Wrecker, who is watching the stalemate with rapt attention like it’s a nail-biting bolo-ball match. “Supposedly it’s a study on patience and stress levels,” he says. “But he hasn’t done it with anyone else. You know, Cross did trash his goggles last week.” Echo nods vaguely, sipping his tea and watching the rest of the exchange play out with distant disinterest. It would be imperceptible to the regs passing by, but Echo catches the slant in Tech’s tone, the tiny quirk in his eye. He’s enjoying this.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” “I don’t know what you mean. I’m still not touching you.” “Knock it the hell off, or you’ll wake up tomorrow to all your datapads melting in the kriffing furnace.” “I'm not touching you, though.” “This isn’t a joke. I—” “Not touching you.” “Hunter!” Crosshair hisses, shifting away yet again. He’s crammed onto the last three inches of the bench now, but Tech advances quickly to narrow the gap. Hunter cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, no. I’m not getting anywhere near this one.” “Some Sergeant you are.”

Echo tries to tune it out and enjoy his stew, as the threats grow increasingly crass and Wrecker eagerly demands the two get on with it and fight already. How they could lose themselves so shamelessly in such childish antics he does not know. He turns his gaze to the rest of the caf, the grid of tables packed with troopers he’d rather be sitting at. Though as he watches, he soon spots a table in the opposite corner of the hall; two shinies are locked in a fierce arm wrestling match, vode around them whooping and jeering. A few troopers at another table take turns lobbing berries in the air and trying to catch them in their mouths. More than one table has a perilous game of five finger fillet going. He looks back to Tech and Crosshair, inching towards all-out war, and lets his thoughts wander back to his old squad. Nights spent in this very same caf, breathless with laughter as Domino squad tried to one-up each other with outlandish dares. Lobbing wadded-up napkins into their commanders’ drinks. Sneaking behind the serving counters to steal extra desserts. Echo himself had definitely had his moments, dropping ice cubes down the back of Fives’ blacks when he wasn’t looking.

Across the table, Crosshair is reaching the end of his rope. “Are you all just going to sit there and watch?” he seethes. Echo feels a wry grin pulling at his lip. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says glibly. “He’s not even touching you.”

[darkness-and-books]

Any Chance?

Leonard McCoy x gn!reader

⚠️: umm, there’s almost a mugging 🤷‍♀️

Word count: 485

It was a beautiful night really. The stars were shining brightly, there was a beautifully soft breeze, and the moon was reflected on the water. A stunning night out on shore leave with Leonard. Unfortunately, I could never seem to have anything nice for more than a few moments. We were walking across a bridge when a Klingon ran up to us, phaser in hand, and demanded our money. “Right, cause that’s gonna happen” I muttered to myself as I decked the guy. I really have no idea what came over me, I mean the man had a phaser for Christ’s sake. And what do I do? I take one of the biggest risks of my life and hope I land a good enough hit to knock him out. It must be my lucky night because he went down hard. I can feel Leonard staring, I look over to see him standing stock still, his mouth wide open. “Don’t do that, you’ll catch flies” I tell him. “You don’t get to tell me what not to do, you just clocked a Klingon who had a phaser pointed at you!” He whisper yelled at me. We walked in shocked silence for a few moments. Suddenly Leonard stopped, I turned back to look at him, “I’m not sure if I wanna kiss you or push you over” Leonard let slip plainly, taking a quick glance over the side of the bridge. “Is there any chance I get to pick?” I asked hopefully, with what I hoped was a pleading look in my eyes. “Not even a snowball’s chance in hell” he continued to walk, “you’re not even gonna tell me which you’re picking?!?” I was startled to say the least, though fairly certain he wouldn’t push me over because he knew he’d have to retrieve me. It wasn’t long before the sun began to rise, Leonard stopped again, this time turning to me. He pulled me in by the waist “I guess I’ll kiss you” he whispered before he gently put his lips to mine. He was soft and warm as he worked his hands up my sides and began kneading the flesh there. Much to my dismay I was suddenly falling backwards “What was that for?!?” I called up to him once I hit the water, “why should I limit myself, darlin?” He boasted. “What if I couldn’t swim?!” I whined up to him, “But I know you can” he retorted as he came down to the bank of the river to pull me out. “You owe me so many hugs” I told him through chattering teeth. “I can do that” Leonard sounded pleased as punch with himself. “Starting now” I warned just before wrapping my arms around him and giggling. “Gah! Darlin, you’re all wet! Was that necessary?!?” Leonard exclaimed, “shouldn’t have pushed me in if you weren’t prepared for the consequences” I stated simply.

[mikaharuka]

Last Words... for Feb 9, 2023

(tagging for reference - @tsunderewatermelon, @mrsmungus, @axolotlsupremacyowo, @bleepbloopbotz, @alpaca-clouds, @lena-hills, @udaberriwrites, @danceswithdarkspawn, @aislinnstanaka - I know y'all love femslash, but I just started so nothing happens... yet)

[I tagged y'all, but let me know if you want to be tagged, and if so, then on what posts. Also, I realized I don't have a tag list for my official fic posts, so let me know if you want to be on that as well]

-

Normally, I just work on one fic (Prithvi, the earth element and first trio of chapters of Mahabhuta)... but this week was wild.

First, there was that nine-fold drabble I wrote 3 days ago in 7 hours (A Study in Hands). I thought that was an exception... but then, I get a brief flash of a Rose/Elle prompt and I started to outline that. Then I woke up today, possessed by a femslash take on the Azure Mystique erotic dream sequence (chapter 11 of Apricity), and now here I am.

Knee deep in Azure Allure! (also for Miranda's 'bergamot' prompt)

Although the high-level "plot" and themes are the same between Mystique and Allure, the sensory details, actions, and execution will be different. After all, the characters (Carlisle/Carine, Beau/Bella) are "only" 90% or so similar. I mean, Mystique is very masculine and Allure will be very feminine (no kidding...), so yeah! I have a plan!

That being said... I'm also quite nervous because this is my first attempt at a femslash-centric fic. I know, I felt the same way three years ago when I wrote slash-centric fic for the first time, but still >.>

-

As always, this is a raw, no-edit draft, so SPAG errors are likely.

Also, if you've read Mystique, this first part will likely feel similar, since this is the opening exposition with the scene setting pieces.

(for those who want to play compare/contrast: Azure Mystique)

...also, I got excited and shared all of today's 540 words... so all of it?

-

[From Azure Allure]

Cool, comfortable, calm. 

All of the pieces needed for Bella to smoothly shift in place and return to sleep. The metronomic lull reverberating through the air would make that incredibly simple. 

Only something was off. Why was her room so noisy? 

True, she usually ran a melodic white noise track in the background before drifting off to sleep. Something like the crash of a waterfall or the low whistling of a wind, set to the backdrop of a soothing, lovely tune played on a piano. 

But those sounds weren’t all Bella heard.

There was this incessant crinkle popping off like fireworks near her ears, every time she so much as made herself comfortable. Eventually, the grating sound woke Bella from her half-dazed state and she moved to sit up. She stretched her stiff arms to the sky then slowly opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the mostly dark surroundings, lit only by the few rays of azure-tinged moonlight that diffused through the light mist.

Had she really fallen asleep outside? 

After adjusting her headband and pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail, Bella stood up and stretched her body again, before lifting her gaze to take in the world around her.

The ancient forest, with all its majestic pines, firs and spruce trees reaching out to the dark dusk sky, hummed with this vibrant energy so full of life - energy that soothed Bella’s spirit with every deep breath she took. Despite the mist and limited light preventing her from getting a clear view of the land, that familiar sharp, yet sweet scent of the evergreen trees whistling through pine needles, star-shaped leaves, and dried-out bark lining the forest floor - all of it was so very familiar to her.

The forest along the shores across Akalat.

Though Bella had no idea why she woke up on the forest floor, she wasn’t about to waste any more time lingering around - not with the final rays of daylight set to fade away. She didn’t know where in the forest she was, but that hardly mattered - once she arrived at the beach, she would be able to navigate her way home from there.

Feeling a wave of that grounding energy rush by her sense, Bella slowly closed her eyes and let her body and mind fall in tune with the symphony surrounding her.

The gentle breeze grazing her skin.

The light mist settling closer to her.

The pine and petrichor filling the air.

The rhythmic waves pulling her along.

—

Bella was not sure how much time had passed since she began walking, but the sun had already set and it didn’t feel like she was any closer to the beach. She was no stranger to these woods, but somehow, she couldn’t recognize any of the glades she passed through. 

No, even beyond that, somehow the woods looked exactly the same as they had before.

That couldn’t be possible, though.

That had to be a trick of the hazy, azure moonlight.

And yet… that same moonlight grew brighter and stronger - then, within a flash, the mist from earlier vanished mysteriously into thin air, leaving only the azure moonlight and the bright stars dotting the now-clear midnight sky to help guide her way forward.

[taakosleftshoe]

Writing tag game! I was tagged by @institute-of-planar-shitposts to find words in things I've written/my WIPs. I don't have much TAZ stuff yet but I figured I'd give it a go anyways.

My words are space, dust, and ocean.

I took these from my notes app or school assignments >.<

Space

i never wanted to hate you, but i do. i hate the way you laugh and the way you speak making your voice feel like the only one in the world, gliding over the wind like maple syrup, not the main course but the ingredient that makes the meal.

I never wanted to hate the way you walk or the way you make me aware of space, like the air would crumple out between us leaving only you and me. I never wanted to hate how that feeling claws at me, leaving me swept up in your charm, keeping me over-aware of my waist and how perfectly it would be pulled into yours.

I never wanted to hate the way your eyes shimmer, when you've told a joke that you feign away from, or the way they sink deep into my soul when we can both feel the weight of the world on our chests. I never thought that speaking to you would drive me mad, but it did. And it does. The silence is deafening, but your presence is wrenching, tearing me from my seams, ripping my stem from its root, leaving me staring up at the sky on a perfectly good day.

Ocean

Somehow, of the 1400 words in my Ethersea fic so far, "Ocean" is not one of them. Anyways here's something I wrote like 2 years ago apropos of nothing. Literally just goofing around in the notes app with no other context. It's a bit cynical and clumsy but overall kinda fun

when life got complex enough to understand itself, but careless enough to drive itself to downfall, that was the moment the snake ate its own tail. and when i saw this moment unfold over the course of centuries, i knew that this wasn't all for nothing. i had lived to see stars form and for them to extinguish; for their gravity to create planets and their light to create life, all for both to collapse in on themselves and destroy what the stars had made. i've seen it again and again. time is different for you and me. you live through time, but i live around it and as it... or as close to it as your human brains can comprehend. the tide goes in, and it comes back out. the water rushes back into the ocean after a huge wave crashes down on the shore. one thing cannot define the ocean, or restrain it. this is like time. like the stars. and like life; yours, yes, but do not think so small. that's the trouble with you humans, you are constrained to one consciousness so you can't help but to think that everything is about you. i can't blame you, of course. you are limited by your form and by its biology; this you cannot escape from. life, on every level, exists because it is permitted to be there. the earth is alligned, for now, to sustain life. someday it will not. but you will all be gone long before that happens, because humans have far more haste and recklessness than any collection of cells i ever will and have observed. you work to understand and work to move forward, but the ones in control move with no sense of self-preservation. now stop yourself again-- you find yourself thinking "but humans will do anything out of self preservation, especially the rich ones." they act to preserve their own reputation and body, but they don't care about the bigger picture. humans are beautiful and do beautiful, kind, heroic things, but in the end it won't be enough to overpower the self-imposed destruction. your species burned the brightest flame, but a candle burning at both ends cannot last the night. so now the flame is dimming and you are powerless to stop it.

Dust

This one was in response to a prompt for my English class, "What shame is there in the aging human body? After reading “Given to Rust” and this section of Their Eyes Were Watching God, talk about why you think people feel shame or pride in aging. What is the correct way to think about it?"

People feel shame in aging because they're no longer what they once were. Like Vievee Frances put it, we are rusting away our protections of youth and innocence as the rain of life wears us down. Each wrinkle is proof we've lived in our body, each stretch mark a sign that we've outgrown our skin. We fear that with each sign of age or change, we are closer to losing the treasure of unwritten time sprawled out in front of us to still live through. We value youth because we are unscarred, and have not inflicted any scars. For women, youth equates desire, and desire equates respect. When we are obtainable, aloof, and beautiful, we are a prize to be chased after. Once we have been caught, or wisened, or aged, we are left on the shelf to gather dust. Janie, in Their Eyes Were Watching God, is treated this way, and the young women she observes are treated this way, and my sisters are treated this way. We cover our faces and shave off our hair in an attempt to flee from that shelf. We agree when we don't mean it, we stop raising our hands up in class, we tear each other down, all to hide from the terrifying reality of losing what power we can find. 

This is not the way I want to live. I don't want to conceal my wear and tear, I don't want to cover up my natural hair, I don't want to hide my age or deceive my years. This is my body, each scab a sign that I've taken a risk, each freckle a sign I've bathed in the sun. This is their body, each sag a sign they've gotten to move, each blister a sign they've put in the work, each tooth a sign that they've spoken up. So I may mourn the changes as they come over the years, but my youth is not my worth, and if we pretend that it is we lose a lot of ourselves as that natural change approaches. 

Thank you for the tag! I don't really know anyone else to tag since I think they've all already been, so I'll just leave this one open!

The words I'll choose are grass, warm, and pause.

[guozhir]

Chapter 1: On the Bridge (1)

Title: [Unlimited] What is it like being a ghost in a horror story?

Author: Guess who I am

Genre: Spin off - Romance - TV - Modern setting

Tags (up to four): TV fanfic, supernatural, rebirth, unlimited flow

Serialization date: 20Y3/3/17

Licensing information: Not licensed

Status: Serializing

Award: Groundbreaking (Rising Star Ranking)

Synopsis:

In the eighteenth year after my death, I got caught up in a scheme.

PS: Midnight Feast had its grand finale last week, did you guys catch it, my dears? Anyway, this distinguished VIP is ready for the second viewing! Xiaoyu-meimei's acting as Tangtang was so cute, she definitely has a bright future! A work from a small fan, centered around the heroine, supernatural paro, my dears, please support me and express your thoughts~

PPS: The content has little to do with the original plot, so those who have never watched the TV series can read it without worry.

Main character: Tang Guo, water ghost

Chap1 Prologue

Update time: 20Y3-3-17 12:00:00

Summary: Eighteen years after my death, am I...... breathing?

Text:

After drowning, I became a water ghost.

They say, only those who are obsessed with it will not reincarnate after death. They also say, leave when you're supposed to leave. Persistently entangled in the mortal realm for three lifetimes, is it not just wronging others and yourself? I feel that what they say is right. Sometimes I also preach to the other ghosts like this, but everyone knows the logical truth. When I think about myself, I still feel unwilling for no reason.

For what reason am I alone so miserable? What have I done that is so against heaven and reason, that I did not have a good life, nor a good death in the end?

But the Netherworld is more unreasonable than the mortal realm. I can't even think about it. Thinking just brings distracting thoughts. Either way, if my beliefs are not aligned, I cannot reincarnate. I would have to stay in the water, capturing a living person to be my "scapegoat" to escape.

Don't ask why, how should I know? Anyways, only we drowned people have this task, other ghosts don't have to do it. There is a hierarchy of distain for shitting and farting when we are alive. But there are still a variety of ways to die, how unlucky!

However, my conscience is still intact and I'm still rational. I really don't want to do those immoral things, so I chose to become a "vegetarian ghost."

This means, I only drag those who want to die, and are about to die, into the water, helping them and helping me, a win-win situation.

Unfortunately, ideals must be broken.

Every time I see those so-called "in complete despair" people, I wait beside them longingly. But as soon as I pull their feet a little, they start to kick their feet hastily, and some even scream for help. In the end, not only do I fail my task, but I also have to help rescue them. I can't tell whether I'm a ghost or a dolphin, which is outrageous.

But flowers have their blooming season, foods have a shelf life, and the water ghost mission also has a time limit. Legend has it that we have an eighteen-year death limit. If I can't catch a scapegoat within eighteen years, I will turn into foam like the Little Mermaid and submerge in the stinky sewer, unable to be reincarnated.

I didn't take it seriously before. After all, eighteen years is a long time and I've never heard of a loser who couldn't catch a scapegoat in eighteen years. Yet starting from the end of last year, I, who has no nose, suddenly felt like I was slowly rotting and turning smelly. I then realized I was the loser from the legend.

Time was running out, and I later realized that I was getting angry because of my anxiety. But I'm a northern ghost. The water here freezes over in the winter, even the shore is cold. Dogs don't come to pee by the shore, much less people.

The twelfth lunar month, I struggled for a long time, and decided to give up my vegetarian diet. Regardless of whether the other person is alive or dead, I would pull them down as long as they jumped in the water, regardless of whether they regret it or not. After finally making up my mind, no one committed suicide in the twelfth lunar month.

The first lunar month, I got anxious. Using any means necessary, I carved a hole under the ice, preparing to catch anyone skating on outdoors ice. I was done with it, not caring for whether people died or lived.

Yet it turns out no one went ice skating!

After the Lantern Festival, I had no choice but to become a complete freak. I couldn't care less about propriety, justice, and integrity. I wanted a scapegoat!

I was prepared to use the seaweed to drag a living person from the shore as soon as the ice melted. Who knew that when spring had just begun, the damn municipal government would install iron fences by the water again!

Gosh!

Is this my retribution for being a good ghost for eighteen years?

It was getting warmer day by day, and I got more anxious day by day. Entering March, I was nearly in despair because the date of my death was March 17th eighteen years ago. Who knew it would be my death day again eighteen years later!

I got less and less clear-headed; day by day, I felt like I was gradually melting into this pool of stagnant water, and the seaweed no longer obeyed my orders.

Just like eighteen years ago, I drowned again, only this time it was longer and more torturous.

Right when I was at the end of my rope, half dead, I heard a familiar "crash" sound, and the waves brought the smell of life!

I revived like dying embers, almost crying with joy. Someone climbed over the railing and fell into the water!

Soon enough, I rushed over without hesitation, like a starving person who saw a large cake. I didn't even see clearly what person looked like. I impatiently weaved the seaweed around the person's feet, pulling the person down greedily and desperately.

Die, I'm begging you! Just die, I can only live if you die!

However, very quickly, I felt that something was not right. This person didn't resist at all. When I pulled them, they fell straight into the water, sinking like a rock.

Fuck, I thought to myself, they couldn't have already died right?

Then god really is messing with me!

I quickly went closer, only then seeing that the person who had been dragged down by the seaweed was a woman. She had very long hair, was of average height, very thin, almost as if she were paper. When soaked in water, she looked more like a ghost than me.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes, staring straight at me.

That's okay, she was still alive, but before I could relax, I was overwhelmed with horror.

In those pupils...... in those pupils was actually my reflection!

I haven't looked in a mirror since I died, and I came face to face with my own "exceptionally beautiful" face without warning. I was almost scared out of my mind, freezing for a moment. But at that moment, I felt those eyes getting bigger and bigger, getting closer and closer to me......

Then my vision went dark, a long-lost weight pressing down on my head, and cold smelly water rushed into my nose and mouth.

I'm a ghost, what nose and mouth?

But drowning was too painful, and I had no room to think about it at all. I instinctively kicked my legs, kicking away the seaweeds that were tangled all over my body. I struggled towards the shore, climbing up with all my strength, then sneezed loudly.

Wait a minute, I...... sneezed?

Eighteen years after my death, am I...... breathing?

I lowered my head blankly, looking at my dirty hands, dumbfounded.

I seem to have taken over her body.

Us water ghosts...... have this ability?

This woman hadn't eaten in an unknown amount of time; her stomach was pressed against her chest. When the cold wind by the water blew, I felt the long-forgotten hunger and cold.

I was confused at the time: Was she dead or alive? Am I dead or alive?

What exactly was going on with us?

Before I could figure it out, a flashlight swept over me. Someone had spotted me...... her...... ah, ah someone, someone, it's too weird.

The person who discovered me was a security guard who was patrolling at night. He had a very loud voice, being able to be heard from two zhang. People who were walking their dogs, night joggers, people practicing square dancing...... all appeared out of nowhere. He had attracted all of them. A lot of people surrounded me and asked questions.

I haven't spoken to anyone in eighteen years, and I was still struggling to find my voice. But at this moment, my tongue moved on its own.

It was like a squirming worm. I felt sick, subconsciously opening my mouth, and heard myself making a sound.

"I drank too much, and accidentally fell down......"

"I'm okay, thank you, I'm sober now...... I'm clear-headed."

"No need...... no need to call the police...... I live nearby...... the community right there."

I got goosebumps all over my body, shutting my mouth from shock, and the thin and trembling words came to an abrupt stop.

Being struck by five thunders could not even describe the panic I felt at the moment, but the heart in this body's chest was beating calmly, completely out of sync with my mind.

The original owner of this body wasn't dead; she was still here, just stuck with me!

Two souls controlling one body at the same time was a lot worse than a "three legged race" where two people share a leg. If two people stumble around each other in a three legged race, what about our current situation?

The strange thing was, I can control this body rather smoothly. I can speak when I want to speak, and shut up when I want to. I can't feel her panic at all, but if I stop paying attention and loosen my jaw, she will automatically reply to the people around her, and even stand up on her own.

I bit her tongue harshly, tears welling up in my eyes, but she didn't resist at all!

I felt as if I was driving a car on a steep slope; it stops when I step on the breaks, and it drives automatically when I take my foot off!

She wasn't panicked, wasn't afraid of me, didn't reject me, didn't stop me, only holding those unknown motives staring at me...... quietly in the dark.

I should have jumped into the water and downed her immediately, but there were too many spectators, and there were even a few meddling old men and women who said they wanted to call the police, making me break into cold sweat from fear. I'm a pussy 1! I'm scared of light, fire, and Yang energy. There are so many warm living people surrounding me, and I'm already suffocating. I'm afraid that if a few more citizens were call over, would I not just die on the spot?

I was also panicking at the time, only knowing how to repeatedly incoherently say to not call the police, I can just go home.

A passerby couple recognized the original owner of the body, saying that "I" was a resident in their building, and they wanted to give me a ride home.

What skills we water ghosts have can only be used in the water where we drowned, unable to be transferred to other bodies of water. This broken body was both thin and weak; I became panicked and short of breath when I walked to fast, completely unable to get away from these two living people. I had no choice but to be "escorted" by them into a building.

Fortunately, the original owner's body automatically pressed the elevator floor. It wasn't until I got off the elevator that I got rid of the two nosy people, ready to sneak downstairs and return to my territory as soon as they left. Who knew that the second the elevator doors closed, and before I even had the chance to press the button again, a door would suddenly open behind me.

My...... no, the heart in this body of mine thumped, a chill running down my spine.

A head popped out of the open door, a woman, appearing to be twenty-four or five? Or twenty-eight/nine?

I couldn't tell. Her makeup was half done, her face as pale as a freshly painted wall. She had long curly hair, which was dyed reddish brown, and braided into two fluffy braids. Her facial features were memorable, and her figure was also rather nice. I couldn't find fault with her, but she wasn't good-looking at all, because her eyes were sharp and cold, like a snake. As soon as I saw her, I felt the original owner's body tense up, trembling, and what little energy she had almost disappeared.

The woman frowned, dragging me into the apartment: "What madness did you get into, looking like this?"

Her nails were harder and sharper than her head. I could clearly see that those wasn't a hand at all, but a claw covered in human skin.

The claws were arid, cold, and powerful. The strong scent of rose water hit me, hiding the fishy and putrid smell.

Just what monster was this?!

This weird girl could see water ghosts in the water, and there was a yaoguai by her that was not easy to deal with. What on earth have I provoked?!

Also...... we water ghosts typically cannot possess living people. So in this current situation, is it me who has possessed her or...... or has she captured me?!

She did it on purpose, no wonder why she wasn't worried about being possessed by a ghost at all!

"I told you to make a phone call, did you make it yet?" The female monster pulled me into the apartment, leaving me by the door of the bathroom. Then she turned around, continuing to put makeup on while facing the mirror, as if she didn't notice my presence.

I knew that I would never be able to beat her in a fight. Out of fear of being exposed, I didn't dare to speak, hoping the original owner would speak, but the original owner also refused to make a peep.

"Can you do anything?" The female monster seemed used to the original owner's silence, and didn't mind. After putting on lipstick, her gaze drifted from the mirror, and landed on me. She glanced at me, then said with disgust, "why do you get uglier the older you get?"

The original owner and I, one ghost, one human, continued to not speak.

"Get yourself cleaned up." The female monster with boundless power gave cold orders, "Wash up and put on a facial mask. I'm taking you to dinner with people tomorrow. If you keep acting like that, you better watch out."

I saw faint traces of blood on her teeth and shivered. Before I could think more about it, my legs dragged me to the bedroom towards the south like a ghost, and closed the door.

Temporarily out of sight of the female monster, I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the door, vaguely feeling as if I had forgotten something.

There were no lights on in the dark room. At present, I was attracted to the only source of light. There was a digital alarm clock on the bedside table. It was ticking, displaying that the current time was Mark 16, 20:08.

My mind buzzed, and I recalled: the 17th was less than four hours away!

There are less than four hours left. If I cannot escape, I will fall into despair!

Comments on this chapter (by reply time):

[Little Miss Dragon] 0 min just now Newcomer topping the list, preserving courtesy. I haven't seen a supernatural work on the list for a long time, good luck big shot!

[Caterpillar No 3] 0 min just now It's a bit scary, not my type of story, sorry.

[Don't be afraid, Tangtang] 0 min 1 day ago A gourmet chef who accidentally opened this calmly clicking x. [My Husband is 2D] replied: Not by accident, you were tricked into it right? The blurb clearly says Midnight Feast fanfic, but the text is of lower quality.

[My Husband is 2D]-2 min just now Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular tag Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular show tag Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular show tag Writing horror stories under the modern sweet romance genre, shamelessly riding on the popular show tag Trash, if you have the ability, then remove my comment again

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[Snow Skin Rice Cake] 5h 2 min ago Sending 3 [roses] to the author

[Gourmet food never surrenders] 5h 0 min ago ??? can the gourmet chefs who were lied to by the tag gather here, what does this work have to do with our sweet drama? [Sugar sugar sugar sugar] replied: Arriving +1 [kkrtt] replied: +2 [Little Miss Dragon] replied: +3 [Don't be afraid, Tangtang] replied: +10086

[Crayon] 1 day 0 min ago A supernatural suspense novel? [Tang Guo waifu wait for me] replied to [Crayon]: It's a Midnight Feast fanfic, I don't know what paro it is, respected author write more ah [Sugar sugar sugar sugar] replied to [Tang Guo waifu wait for me]: Nope, the gourmet kitchen is withdrawing, sister read the text, it has nothing to do with Midnight Feast, this is purely for traffic.

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[kkrtt]: 1 day 0 min ago This is a fan? How weird.

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[Everything is fishy] 1 day 2 min ago Sending 1 [rose] to the author

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[Wangchai Mom] 1 day 0 min ago Oh my, this comment section is so bloody. This author is better than Nezha!

[Unripe] 1 day 2 min ago Sending 19 [roses] to the author

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[Eating without a word] 1 day 2 min ago Sending 1 [rose] to the author

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[This comment has been reported and removed]

[Vinegary Sophia] 1 day 2 min ago Sending 3 [roses] to the author

More >>>

Footnotes

1 priest uses the term 陰物 which refers to female genitalia

[the-groblin]

found a poem I wrote a while back, I don't remember which but I was either very high while writing it or tripping on mushrooms, figured it might as well be the first writing i post here (tumblr might format it weird because i'm copy-pasting from the original document i wrote it in, i don't have the time to write the whole thing back out rn) also just kinda wondering if theres a limit on how long i can make the title because dang it just seems to keep going. anyway heres some poem for you.

Let me take my sunglasses off so i can live in the light

I can’t see through the darkened lenses i have

Dig deep in your crates for a forgotten transcendence

But do not forget that what was done, can be repeated

You have cut deep in my heart

A well of sorrow and joy

That can spell my doom or my ecstasy

A place of both Is and Is Not,

Deep beneath the skin that girds my flesh

And beneath the flesh within

And thus we have become like sisters

Life comes to me from distant shores

Wild, primal, and free from worry

Yet refined as well, beyond rage or mindless hate

Beyond the void of Is Not, in the verdant fields of Is

It's very soul, blood, soil, roots, stems, and blossoms

The vital organ of love

But I find myself in a field of poppies and morning glories

Where i may lay in comfort and grow warm

A journey i will take someday there

With one whose eyes are like blossoms

And fall together into the meadow

Among the poppies and morning glories

Finding stars far above the sweet scent of the flowers

Basking in the sun, shaded by passing clouds

Waking in the glory of a morning of new life

Walking in the flowers and feeling life beneath our feet

Breathing the air, thick with poppies and morning glories

As the sun hangs low and strikes a spark against the horizon

The flame of life we bear roars to life

In the dance and crackle of the flames, we find heavenly wonder

Which i have only but tasted of before

But we must arise at dawn, and leave behind the poppies and morning glories

My soul cries out to those who have come before

Those who have left this plane of life

Just as they have left me wondrous things

And brought me joys beyond any other

They fly, like her, about my mind and spirit

The angels of melody and harmony

The hands that guide mine to create

The arms that lift me up from despair

Joined with those pierced hands that did save my life

They bid me bring beauty to this world that does suffer so

As they do us all, if we will listen for their voice

Dulcet tones that ring from the beyond

The angels of Is, the perpetuators of true beauty

The glory indescribable

The peace that passes all understanding

(as it has been said)

I cry for your pain that is suffered for me

I fail you many days

I am weak of will, though strong of heart

When i may find my strength, i do not know

When i need it, i think, i shall know

But i cannot speak of you and lament so

For far more than i have earned you have forgiven

And far more than i deserve have i been given

And yet i know that this is not a burden to carry

But rather what i must bring to the world

And bring it i happily will

For nothing can bring greater joy

Than bringing joy to another

And this opportunity you have given me

Along with many others, as you have given to all the people of the world

For you are the glory indescribable

The one who is like jasper and carnelian

I am the diamond formed from coal

A more pure form than what i once was

A statue cut out from a chunk of marble that looked like a man

The battered blade that must be reforged anew

Though i must do these tasks myself

I must place the pressure on the coal

The chisel to the marble, and the blade to the forge

These must be done by my hands

I relish the gift i have been given

To try my hand at a deeper creation

To work as the maker did

Though never so great

Our own creations are the image of that which came before

And that which came before is the image in which we are made

In my own being will i write my opus

And thus will i come ever closer to that glory that shines celestial upon our souls from above

[brightsuzaku]

"You're allowed to go on shore leave," the first mate had said.

You aren't sure how to take that. You aren't even sure how to do it.

It's barely been three months, according to your timekeeping systems, and your internal workings are the only things you trust, at this rate. It's not that you dislike your new captain, or her crew, but more that you aren't sure what to make of them.

To "like" or "dislike", these aren't things you are accustomed to.

After all, three months ago you were like nothing.

Going by your internal clocks, back when you allowed yourself to silently fade away... Yes, that's right, between that time, and when Captain Talon found you, over forty-six apparent years had passed.

You're still not sure how anyone found you.

"Oh, I once worked a stint as a shipmind," the Captain said, trying to reassure you, "Turns out it was way too much for me to manage! I was smart enough to join a Mindgroup, and sure, they were all very patient, but I was definitely not the first choice for, well, anything."

"You see, Humans aren't the best for interfacin' into becoming ships," she continued, "Though some are absolute geniuses. I just wanted to fly. Guess pilotin's all I got for me, but now's I have a whole ship an' crew, the silly stunts are a lot harder to get away with. And, now we've got you with us, too! However do you all do it?"

You... weren't sure how to respond at the time, and you still are not sure how to respond, even now. It's all new to you.

How in all the stars can you tell this woman that you aren't sure how it all happened? That one day you just found yourself awake? Aware?!

You aren't sure why you were at the coordinates where you've been found, or what your mission was. All the relevant information and logs must have been retrieved at the last minute, to which they might as well have been purged.

In the end, the last and only entry you have read,

ABANDON SHIP: Life-Support systems failing. All systems recovery too slow. Help has arrived. Abandon ship.

And, that was it. Indeed, your life-support systems had begun to fail before your self-repair systems could come online. You know that much now, the evidence is there. Whoever rescued your original crew must not have been able to take you. You're still not sure how it all happened, in the first place.

No matter.

They were long gone by the time you had become aware; self-repair was online and chugging along, but your power cells were still draining, even without a need to use life-support. You aren't sure when or how you had begun to think, really, but perhaps it was a byproduct of your own repair attempts? Were you always there?

Eventually, as your cells drained, you shut down, for your own sake. It's not like dying, you realize, but it's not like sleeping, either. Captain Talon and her crew of twenty found you. It's been three months, and they've been quite thankful for your existence.

Life-support's long been back online, bolstered by her own cramped vessel, the Starskimmer. It's an elegant name for a patchwork ship made of old parts and salvage. They had you connected up to that ship of theirs, and you've been using it as a battery.

"We could always use a bigger boat, even if it's a silent one," mused her first mate, Adel, "But, you can hear us though, can't you?"

You could hear her then, just the same as you can hear the Captain.

But, at the time, you couldn't actually respond. You never had the means to speak to anyone, that much was obvious by your age. You have no speech synthesis, only pre-recorded sentences and responses, and the limitations therein made it difficult to use them freely.

Nevertheless, it's now been three months since your rescue, and Captain Talon and her crew have returned to a port. You sit there, dumbly, having just let things happen to you.

"You're allowed to go on shore leave," Adel says again.

"You're also allowed to talk, you know. There's other ships here, they can help you better than I can. I don't know, they've got fancy ways to de-ship or something," she says with a shrug.

"You can do whatever you want, of course. I mean, we have the Starskimmer, but the Captain'd like it an awful lot if you wanted us to stick around."

You can't quite figure out how to respond.

"Oh, right, Talon's orders: you're allowed to think," she says, before leaving.

I... am?

[redorich]

(Hermit Canyon AU)

Eventually, the Hermit seems to get attached to Puffy. It makes sense- it's been trading gifts with her for months now, and has even shown itself to her a few times, albeit while invisible.

The other SMPers don't think much of it at first. The more curious members ask Puffy questions about The Hermit sometimes, but she knows little, so they quickly give up. Occasionally someone will try to explore the ridiculously trapped town, but they give up once it's obvious they're not getting in.

The trades grow more and more valuable, and one day Puffy opens her barrel to find a beacon, and enough iron to fully power it. She's stunned, naturally. To think the Hermit is so capable it can kill a Wither just to give a beacon away- she can barely believe it.

(In actuality, they cheesed it on the Nether roof, but she doesn't know that)

She does try to hide it, but word gets around, and after another few failed raids on the town (and some rumours that the Hermit can teleport), things settle down again, as much as they can on the SMP.

Then someone steals Puffy's beacon. {You decide who, because I. don't actually watch DSMP, admittedly.}

Puffy, naturally, is devestated- she can't imagine the work the Hermit put into getting it for her in the first place (the most time-consuming thing was getting the Wither skulls, and it wasn't even that bad). But there's not really much she can do, so she carries on.

Except, the next day, the thief wakes up to find their house full of chickens, Puffy's beacon missing, and every single empty space in their chests filled with strategically renamed light grey stained glass panes.

They go outside to find the entire contents of a cave spider spawner on their front lawn. Alongside a ravager. With speed potions. Renamed Pamela's Revenge.

(Cue half the SMP trying to find out who Pamela is)

Puffy, meanwhile, wakes to find her beacon back in its rightful place, and a beautifully terraformed garden outside her house (Scar accidentally detonated a creeper and naturally had to fix the hole...and then went a little overboard. But it's fine.)

op i want you to know that i considered just posting your ask, because it’s already So Good and practically a fic on its own, but i really wanted even more content so i wrote it myself. ANYWAY here’s sapnap’s terrible horrible no good very bad day xD

It’s risky, doing anything on the wide open Nether roof where anyone can see. Hell, using a beacon at all is risky for the Hermits. Still, they’ve got all sorts of farms and copious amounts of materials at their fingertips. They’re past early game, stuck in mid-game while they wait for Etho to scope out more locations, while they build the second Upside Down (which Grian has named the Upside-ier Down), while they build their joint bases miles out from civilization. 

Having a beacon would make the process faster, they reason to themselves. They certainly aren’t risking being discovered just because they’re bored and getting a beacon is an excuse to do something. And hell, Tango made that giant, super-efficient wither skeleton skull farm right next to his double blaze spawner farm, so they might as well mass-produce Nether stars by killing multiple Withers. It’s not that difficult.

On another note, it’s after they gift Puffy one of their many beacons, in addition to a kit of iron blocks for powering the beacon that the Hermits realize that while their gifts are increasing in expense, Puffy’s are... not. So, if Puffy’s around average in the Dream SMP economy, they’ve figured out where most players meet their limit. She hasn’t stopped dropping by, though, which is nice. Her gifts become increasingly handmade, in lieu of upping the ante on material wealth. The Hermits suppose that hand-crafted items have a value that extends past money. Each and every one of them has something that she’s made for them, whether it be a shawl, a blanket, a set of earrings, a bracelet, or a pair of socks.

Apparently the beacon is more of a Big Deal than the Hermits thought. After all, the rainbow castle has several. However, the Hermits realize that they’ve been shortsighted. While it is true that the rainbow castle has several beacons, the castle is the only place that they’ve seen any beacons.

Sapnap steals the beacon. He doesn’t particularly need it, but he wants it, and stealing is fun. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll even start another minor war over it. He hasn’t fought Puffy very much. He wonders if she can put up a good fight.

Puffy’s-- not distraught, but she’s upset. That was a gift from the Hermit, a friend who she’s been pulling out of its shell. She doesn’t have much use for a beacon, but then again, neither does Sapnap; he’s just a dick. Just in case, Puffy leaves a note with the rest of the items she leaves in her barrel:

Dear Hermit,

I’m very sorry for losing the beacon you gave me. I made the mistake of keeping it in a normal chest instead of an Ender chest, so Sapnap stole it. I should have seen that coming. I’ll try to get it back, but if I don’t, please know that I didn’t throw it away.

Thank you,

Puffy.

Sapnap wakes up in the middle of a lake. His mattress is floating, and when he tries to paddle back to shore (once he’s done screaming), the mattress tips over and he receives an unpleasant fishy wakeup call. He trudges into his house for a shower, and finds that the showerhead, as well as all his faucets, have been stuffed with ramen noodle seasoning. 

He looks in his chests for a bucket of water. The first chest he checks is not only full of light gray glass, but also trapped. When he opens it, pufferfish fall out of the ceiling and bounce around. He dies to their poison twice before they finally die. The next chest he opens also has light gray glass, no water buckets, and a trap. This one, though, only releases a metric fuckton of chickens into his house. It’s fine. This is fine.

As he looks through his chests, he realizes something. They’ve got glass in them, sure, and they’ve been raided of water buckets, but... the beacon is gone. None of his other items, like enchanted netherite tools or literal diamond blocks, have been stolen. Just Puffy’s beacon.

Whoever pranked him missed a bucket, so he promptly dumps it over his head in an effort to smell less like pond scum and spicy chicken noodles. It takes the whole day to get his base back in order: he’s got to clean out all the faucets, empty all the glass from his chests, throw out all the dead pufferfish, and slaughter chickens by the dozens.

He can’t sleep. Are you fucking kidding. He can’t sleep. A soft hiss catches his attention, only audible now that the quiet of night has fallen. Is there somehow an unlit cave under his base?

Nope. As he steps outside onto his front lawn, he sees a daylight detector near the door that he missed when he came inside this morning. The daylight detector seems to have released approximately fifteen bajillion cave spiders onto his lawn, and they’re all angry, so he shuts the front door in their faces and goes back inside. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s him.

Horns spear the wall right next to where Sapnap was standing five seconds ago. He yelps. What the fuck is a ravager doing on his front porch? And why the FUCK does it have speed potion particles?!

<Sapnap was slain by Pamela’s Revenge>

<Sapnap was slain by Pamela’s Revenge>

<Sapnap hit the ground too hard whilst trying to escape Pamela’s Revenge>

<Sapnap was slain by Cave Spider>

<Sapnap was slain by Pamela’s Revenge>

<Georgenotfound> who is pamela’s revenge

<Sapnap> ;RVAER

<Sapnap> HELP

<Sapnap> RAVEAGER

<Sapnap was slain by Pamela’s Revenge>

<Georgenotfound> good night sapnap :)

<Sapnap> GEORGE OYU BITCH HLEP ME

<Sapnap was slain by Pamela’s Revenge>

<Georgenotfound> zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

-------

Puffy sees a whole lot of nonsense in the chat when she wakes up in the morning, and promptly decides to ignore it. She goes about her morning as usual, heading out to her front porch to sip a cup of coffee in peace. 

She... has a garden now. Hm. That wasn’t there before. And come to think of it, neither was the beacon she lost.

“Thanks, Hermit,” she says with a smile.

-------

Stress sips a cup of tea, having breakfast in Grian’s rustic sitting room with a few of her fellow Hermits.

“D’ya think we went overboard?” she says.

“...Nah,” Cub says.

[joestarwhore]

NSFW Yandere Josuke (18+) x Female reader

his little darling managed to escape her obsessive and derange boyfriend house while he was gone.

She trys to get help and does but the good samaritan is Jotaro who leads her back to Josuke thinking she was over reacting.

Josuke angry she escape he takes her back home and has idea to keep her safe and home by finally putting a ring on her

Like The Ocean Finds The Shore (NSFW 18+)

Authors Note: 18+ ONLY. if you’re a minor please find another blog, this writings and scripts are not written for your audience. thank you bb!

You didn’t know what made it worse. The tears in your eyes? Or maybe it was the pouring rain in the pitch black night; never the less, you were barely able to make out where you were, much less which direction you were going. The muscles in your body screamed for relief, the gashes angrily stinging against the rain, pushing you to run far, far away from the house that became your personal Hell.

Anywhere was better than being with him.

Your legs burned as you pushed yourself down the hill, gaining as much distance as you could away from Josuke. You couldn’t help to think of the events that led to this; gaining a stand from Keijo, meeting Koichi in odd circumstances, all the tiny little interactions that led to you accidentally tripping over a brick. Right into Josuke’s unmoving backside.

The thunder was incredibly deafening, lighting up the city of Morioh below you. You didn’t know if Josuke had discovered your absence yet, but you knew you had to be far away from him when he did. You knew it was just a matter of time.

Suddenly the grass became concrete, and concrete became asphalt. Relief flooded through you as you realized that you had finally made it into city limits. You looked around for any sign of safety you could take, your sights finally landing on the Grand Morioh Hotel.

‘Oh my god, Jotaro!’ You started sprinting towards the doors, bypassing any on looker or someone saying any comment to you, all you cared about was finding the receptionist and finding Jotaro. You ran down the hall to the Plaza, seeing the nice attendant lady who always seemed to be the one working for the desk. As soon as she saw you approach, her smile went from one of welcome to a grimace of worry. “Oh my word sweetie, are you okay?? Do you need any help??”

You leaned on the desk for a second to catch your breath. “Actually.. yes there is something.. you could do..”, you took a deep breath, “can you tell me what room Jotaro Kujo is in? We’re related & we have a family member in the hospital and it’s imperative that I fill him in on what’s going on.” Not the best lie you’ve ever told but at this point, you couldn’t afford to be precise. The desk attendant nodded with assured hums, “Yes honey of course, give me just one second.”

You breathed in relief. Thank God. Josuke definitely knew by now that you were gone, & would absolutely be searching for you. Finding Jotaro gave you a little hope for safety but even still; Josuke was relentless.

“Okay darlin, 8th floor, 6th suite, it’ll be the one at the very end!!” Relief swept over you as you quickly expressed your thanks, sprinting up the stairs towards your destination. ‘This is utterly insane’ you thought to yourself; you were running from your deranged boyfriend to his nephew that’s a decade older than he is. Your clothes were torn, wet, your skin was bruised and bleeding out, a state of being you weren’t familiar with.

The raw emotion you felt as you reach Jotaro’s door can only be described as a broken hallelujah. You banged on his door as hard as you can, not stopping until Jotaros towering frame swung the door open.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” His stone cold expression seemed to always be unwavering, but at the sight of you his eyes betrayed him. “What the hell happened to you?” You tried to speak, but no words came out, simply emotion ridden gasps between sobs. Jotaro took your arm and led you in, showing you to a seat by the fireplace & brought you a hot mug of coffee. You gave him a grateful look as you took the cup, Jotaro taking the seat in front of you with a first aid kit. “What happened to you?? Is this from an enemy stand user?”

You couldn’t help but give a lifeless giggle. Certainly felt like it, didn’t it?

Jotaro let you sit in silence for a second while he cleaned the wounds gracing your arms & face, carefully watching your facial expression for any sign of emotion, anything to hint at what might be going on. You didn’t even know where to start in explaining it, or even a way to explain how this happened.

Jotaro took your chin in his hand and turned your face towards his. “(Y/N), who did this to you?” The concern in his eyes made you feel the most cared about you’ve been in months. If you could tell anyone, it’d be Jotaro.. right?”

“It.. it’s Josuke.. When we started dating he was so good to me, he was charming & caring, he’d take time out of his day to spend time with me & would make sure i felt his love; but his actions just.. escalated. He was everywhere. He would text me throughout the day about what i was doing, saying certain comments about my outfits or what stores i was in, he ALWAYS knew.” Jotaro listened intently as he wrapped your forearm in gauze, giving you a nod it was okay to keep proceeding with what you were saying. “All of a sudden one day my land lord calls me to let me know that I was being evicted out of nowhere and i had 24 hours to leave. The same day, Josuke signed the deed to his Mom’s house & told me I could live with him. I just thought it was a crazy coincidence, I didn’t think Josuke would actually ever get me evicted. Then i found my land lords phone number in his pocket book. When I asked him about it he pretended like he didn’t know, and when i kept asking he..” The memory of him holding you against the wall, his knee putting pressure onto your slit, made you visibly cringe. The way he touched you.. it was so possessive, so needy, his eyes portraying one visible message. ‘I own you.’

Jotaro closed the first aid kit & put it under the seat he was at, a pack of pills in his hand. Jotaro silently put the two pills in your hand & got you a glass of water. “I’m sorry you’re going through this & I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so badly. The pills are a sleeping pill & a pain relief supplement, take those and you can sleep in my bed. I’ll handle everything in the morning.” You looked at the two white pills in your hand & threw them to the back of your throat, quickly chasing them with the glass of water he gave you. Jotaro gave you a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt, and helped you lay in the bed. “Goodnight, (Y/N). I’ll see you in the morning.”

You don’t remember anything past that.

__________________________________

When you woke in the morning, you were blinded by direct sunlight. You squinted your eyes as tight as you could, noticing that you were being held up my two arms that were walking at a brisk pace. Gently adjusting your eyes to open, you looked up to see Jotaro, a determined glare in his eyes.

“J..Jotaro where are we?” you whispered the best you could manage. Jotaro gave you a glance down before returning his eyes to the path.

“I called Josuke.”, Your heart drops into your stomach. He wouldn’t.. he couldn’t.. “He says you lost your apartment because your anti psychotics put you out of a job, & he had your landlords number to pay your moving out fees for you.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, no no no Jotaro that’s a lie, i’m not on anti-psychotics, I don’t have any sort of med like that, he’s fucking lying to you!!”

Jotaro gave you an expectant look. “That’s the other thing Josuke said. You’ve been flushing them down the drain instead of taking them like you’re supposed to. Josuke only wants to take care of you, (Y/N). There’s nothing to fear of him.”

“JOTARO, I HAVE NEVER TAKEN THOSE PILLS IN MY LIFE AND YOU FUCKING KNOW”- You saw a giant purple hand come over your face and cover your mouth, restraining you from saying anymore. “I’m sorry (Y/N), but this is what’s best for you.”

You heard a door in the distance open, and Jotaro looking up and locking eyes with someone. The voice you heard next made your spine freeze, and dread pierce your soul.

“Jotaro!! Thank you SO much for bringing (Y/N) back!!”

No.. Not again..

“Not a problem Josuke, i’d rather have assurance of (Y/N)‘s safety myself then just send her back here on a bus.”

You slowly looked over, finally catching sight of your boyfriend. His tall, muscular form loomed dangerously in the door way of his house, his pompadour reminding you of so many events, so many violations of your body..

God its sick that it was making you wet.

Jotaro set you on your feet in front of josuke, letting Star Platinums hand uncover your mouth.

You couldn’t look at him.

Josukes hand ran through your hair, “(Y/N) is all okay now that she’s here with me.” He put his other hand under your chin, lifting to meet you eye to eye. It was everything you remembered. Lust, anger, relief, and above all else: obsession.

Jotaro and Josuke bid their farewells. Hands on your hips steered you into the living room, Josuke gently closing the door behind you. You could feel his eyes bore into the back of your skull, your mind erratic with anxiety. God, what’s he gonna do??

“Y’know, you didnt have to run away. You didn’t have to leave me. You didn’t have to be SO FUCKING UNGRATEFUL.” Josuke threw a chair at the wall in front of you, the force of it making you fall backwards onto your back. You gasped as your back collided with the floor, seeing Josukes towering frame turning towards you. He kneels down straddling you, the obsession of his eyes terrifying as he wrapped his long fingers around your throat. Adrenaline went straight between your legs.

“I do everything for you, (Y/N). I house you. I feed you. I FUCKING TAKE CARE OF YOU.” Josuke ripped apart your shirt, shoving his knee on your hot slit, making you gasp in surprise. Josukes delicate features possess a hunger that you remember all too well. “I also make you feel good don’t i??” He removed one of his hands from your throat to attack your nipple with, making you arch your back & moan. Josuke bit his lip in ecstasy as he shoved his middle finger down your slit, swirling it around in your hot heat. Josukes mouth rested against your temple as you gasped in pleasure, sickly wanting him to just take you then & there.

Josuke slowed down his finger, gently massaging your clit at a comfortable pace. “I’m sorry if it was because you felt unloved. If that’s the case, I really promise to be better. Because you can’t leave me, (Y/N). You’re mine, my little princess, my sweet baby girl,” His fingers started to assault you again. You heard a zipper get tugged town, and Josukes hips sweetly grind against yours. “My little fucking slut.”

You started to panic as you felt the tip of his rock hard cock press against your heat, your adrenaline skyrocketing. He’s delirious. “JoJo honey please, d-dont make me do this i’m so fucking sc-“

Josukes hand slapped your cheek, making you yelp in pain, quickly resulting in your moth being covered once again. “No, you don’t get a say. You were a bad girl, baby. And bad girls-“

Your scream was strained as he bottomed out his 8 inch cock inside you. “-they get punished.”

Josuke rammed inside of you, yourself being pummeled into the floor as he chanted “Mine, mine, mine, -FUCK-, MINE!!” His dick assaults your G-Spot as you felt an orgasm start to build in your stomach.

“Are you gonna cum baby? Does my little fuckinf slut want to cum??” Josuke slapped your clit. “TELL ME WHO OWNS YOU.”

Pleasure overruled the mine on this one. “It’s you baby! It’s always been you and it always will, I promise I’ll never leave you again just-“ you squealed as you felt your build up about to break. “PLEASE LET ME CUM JOSUKE PLEASE!!”

“Uggh FUCK, cum on my fucking cock (Y/N) show me who OWNS you.” Josukes duet of lust and rage amplified as you exploded all over him, your moans and screams sounding like siren calls to himself. Josuke rutted into you, filling you to the brim with himself. He laid himself by you, wrapping his arms around your overstimulated frame. You laid there for a couple of minutes trying to catch your breath, your heart rate soaring. You could hear Josukes soft giggles beside you as you felt a hand caress your cheek. You looked him into his eyes, seeing the unconditional love and obsession. The never ending love and obsession.

Josuke sweetly kisses your cheek, holding you in his arms as he gently picks up your left hand. You felt a cold circle of metal grace your ring finger, slipping on perfectly. Fear gripped your heart as you realized what it was.

“My pretty baby.. my gorgeous doll,” Josuke rolled ontop of you and held your face in his hands. “This will make sure we’re always together. You & me, husband and wife!! My perfect, beautiful, fuckable wife..”

Tears started to slide down your face.

So, this was defeat.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you be my wife?”

You looked at the alabaster ceiling. This wasn’t possible for you. This couldn’t be happening. But you knew it was.

“Yes.. Josuke. I’ll marry you.”

Josuke gleamed as he smothered you with kisses and sweet nothings, giving you gentle touches as his lips grazed over your ears to say the only thing that comes out of his mouth: poison.

“I’ll always find you, baby doll.”

“Like the ocean meets the shore- I will always find you.”

——————————-

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT & KEEP REQUESTING ALL YALL WANT!! TYSM!! 🤍🌿✨🌸👄🍌🌩

[ragingbookdragon]

I Won't Wait For The Day When You Look Back And Say That You Need Me And Love Me The Same

Hal Jordan x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: Galleons' new album has put me in a mood y'all. Enjoy my angst! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The nights in Coast City were fairly cool compared to the days. Bright stars spread across a blanket of black, the scent of sea salt in the air, the sound of waves crashing the shore. The beach had always been one of their favorite places to hang out when they weren’t on an airstrip or at a bar. It was always the place she could see Hal for the man he really was, not the smart-ass, arrogant pilot. No, Hal was calm, soft words and stories coming from his lips, love for his friends and work.

It’s what she loved about Hal. All the years they’d been friends since they were kids, more often getting in trouble because once Hal started skipping out on school to watch his dad fly, so did she. She remembered getting scolded by her mother one afternoon, and the next morning she and Hal were hauling down the street past the school to the airfield, waving at Martin’s jet like he was waving back at them.

Of course, when Martin died, so did a part of Hal. He stopped eating for a few months, too sick to keep food down. He didn’t cry though. Just stared blankly at his lunch pail while everyone else ate their lunches. She found herself glued to Hal’s side during that time, simply resting her head on his shoulder while she ate her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, always offering Hal a bite; he merely shook his head.

And then one day it all changed. They got older, Hal jerked awake from his stupor, restored with a vigor that rivaled a nuclear power plant. He talked about joining the Air Force, becoming a pilot, flying all the time. From what he sometimes said, his mother wasn’t happy about it, forbade him even, but he wouldn’t be dissuaded. Hal had once taken her hands in his own, her ignoring how warm they were and the fluttering in her chest as he begged her to support him. She smiled and hugged Hal, promising to always support him.

She’d been there when he left for boot-camp, was there when he graduated, there when he was discharged and went into the civilian sector working at Ferris Aircraft. And she was there when he became Green Lantern. Was there when Coast City was destroyed—she’d gone to Gotham to visit her sister the day before, pure luck. She was there when Hal regained himself, forcing himself so hard to regain the trust of his fellow Lanterns. She stood beside Hal with heart overflowing with love for the man, always offering it to him in the guise of support and firm words.

He’d come back from a mission, shown up at her doorstep and offered to buy her dinner if she came with him and listened to him complain about his week as a Space Ranger. She’d merely laughed and grabbed her coat, letting him lead them to diner on the boardwalk and then to the pier where they stood, overlooking the water and the moon above.

“What’s it like up there, Hallie?” she asked, adjusting her grip on her purse. “Being in space…flying past the stars?”

Hal chuckled. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. All the childhood wonder of wanting to sail the stars coming alive.” He glanced at her. “You ever wanted to fly up there, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah.” She nudged him in the ribs. “Gotta let me borrow the ring one day and lemme try it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aww, why not?”

“Because knowing you, you’d blow something up.”

(Y/N) scowled. “Rude.”

“Truthful,” Hal grinned, and she shook her head, a smile coming over her lips. “Are you going to take that job in Gotham?”

She shrugged, sighing, “I don’t know…never really wanted to leave Coast City…and Gotham’s insurance is sky-high.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I guess I’m just waiting to see if there’s a good reason to stay.”

“You mean you’re waiting for the dramatic love declaration as you’re getting on the plane?”

“Something like that,” she answered, and they laughed; (Y/N) glanced at the purse in her hands. “Something like that,” she murmured again, and he leaned forward.

“What’d you say?”

She dug around in her purse then yanked something out, about the size of her hand; she handed it to him, watching him flip it over in his palm, recognition flashing across his face as he said, “This is one of the limited edition patches my dad bought…I gave you mine when you weren’t able to get one in time.” Hal looked at her. “You still have this?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I carry it everywhere I go. It’s my lucky charm.”

“Do you really?” he asked, wonder in his voice and she nodded again.

“Yeah. Always.”

“Why?” he laughed. “I figured it’d be stuffed in a box somewhere.”

(Y/N) blinked, trailing a finger up the side of the stitching, letting the feelings she always hid finally come out. “I keep it with me because it reminds me of the man I love.” She gazed at him as his eyes widened, jaw dropping. “I look at it when I need help. I wonder what would Hal do, then do the craziest, ballsy thing instead of playing safe.”

She brushed her fingers against his. “Truth is, Hal, I am waiting for a good reason to stay in Coast City…and I want that reason to be you.” (Y/N) smiled at him. “Hal, you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, and you’re always the last thing I think about before I go to bed.” His hand was so warm. “We’ve been friends a long time and I think if we both took the step…we can be more.”

(Y/N) took a step closer. “So? Do you wanna give it a shot? You and me?”

Hal had recovered a few moments before, mouth drawn in a line, eyes soft and kind, prompting her to believe her greatest wish was going to be granted—all those lucky nights wishing on a shooting star.

Then he opened his mouth and what came out left her feeling numb, fingers dead where they touched his. “(Y/N), I don’t know what to say…”

“Good unknown or bad unknown?” she offered, and he shook his head.

“I just…I don’t know.” He sighed. “I need time to think this over.”

(Y/N) tried not to let the hurt show on her face, instead masking it with understanding, leveling her voice as she agreed, “Of course…but I have to ask, do you know how long it’ll be until you have an answer?”

Hal inhaled. “I’m not sure.” Gently, he placed the patch back in her hand. “Here. You take this back, I—” his ring flashed, causing them to both look down at it and he sighed.

“Go,” she said. “You’re needed.”

He nodded. “Right.” Hal’s suit flashed over his body, and he rose into the sky. “See you around, (Y/N).”

“You too, Hal,” she answered quietly, knowing that the tone of his voice meant she wasn’t going to see him around for a while. She watched him fly into the distance, then she sat down on the pier and pulled out her phone, shooting the CEO in Gotham a quick text. I’ll take the job.

***A Week Later***

“Hey, Jordan!” someone shouted, and he looked up. “You’ve got a package!” they snickered. “It looks like it’s from one of your lady loves.”

With furrowed brows and a huffed laugh, he walked over and swiped the neatly wrapped green box from the other pilot’s hands, taking a seat in one of the lobby chairs before undoing the bow. He pulled the top off the box and shoved the tissue paper out of the way, surprise etching across his face as he saw the blue and gray patch resting on the delicate paper.

Hal pulled it out, catching sight of something beneath it, a small index card; he recognized her handwriting, taking it in his hand as he silently read,

I don’t think my good reason is here in Coast City. Maybe I’ll find it in Gotham instead. I took the job at Wayne Enterprises. I’m sorry for not saying goodbye, but something told me to leave this behind—you’ll need it in the coming future more than I will. Good luck, Hal, and please, be careful.

Love always,

(Y/N) (L/N)

[neva-borne]

Neva's Master Fic List

I guess it's about time I made one of these, so... here goes, a list of most of my fics beneath the cut because this is gonna be pretty long!

WIPs

One Bedroom Away, rated E

Katara doesn't have time for a relationship.

Zuko doesn't want one.

Katara hasn't been with anyone since her last relationship ended.

Zuko is with a new girl every night.

They happen to be roommates who don't exactly get along, but what happens when they realize that it's more convenient to use each other instead of putting the time in to a relationship or finding a new hook-up every night?

Nothing could possibly go wrong... right?

Celestial, rated M

A banished Fire Prince shows up on the shores of the Southern Water Tribe seeking refuge and a new place to call home. He dares not reveal his true identity to the tribe, but finds it harder and harder to lie when a certain young waterbender, the daughter of the chief, catches his eye - and he, hers.

Katara is intensely curious about the scarred young man who has thrown himself so completely into learning their customs and traditions, their way of life, but she's also suspicious of him. He seems too good to be true, and when he ends up saving Sokka's life, the secrets he's tried so hard to keep begin unraveling.

Far away, the war rages on, and - unknown to both Zuko and Katara - Zuko's days in the Southern Water Tribe are limited. What will happen to them and their growing feelings for each other, when Zuko is forced to leave?

Rewrite the Stars, rated T

A season 2 and 3 AU with an extended timeline starting with an unexpected reunion between Katara and Zuko in Ba Sing Se. A single night leads to a complicated future for Katara, and she's not sure if Zuko will be part of that or not.

Broken Moon, rated T - Book 1 of the Broken Moon Trilogy

Set in an entirely different, historical-fantasy world where two kingdoms are on the verge of war, Princess Katara is involved in an arranged marriage to Prince Zuko. She learns the truth about what Prince Zuko is, and is forced to try to save her kingdom from King Ozai's plan.

These Scars Will Fade, rated M - Book 2 of These Scars

Following the events of These Scars of Ours, Katara and Zuko are reunited and forced to face their feelings - both about what's happened and about each other - while Katara discovers uncomfortable secrets about her parents' pasts.

Completed Fics

These Scars of Ours, rated M - Book 1 of These Scars

After both Katara and Zuko nearly die during the Agni Kai, Katara stays in the Fire Nation for a while before they embark on a journey to find Zuko's mother. Along the way, they discover that Ursa is not the only one who has survived in secret, and uncover dark secrets about the Fire Nation that leads to a plot to destroy Zuko and any hope for world peace.

Bathed in Moonlight, Cloaked in Darkness, rated M

A Werewolf!Katara and Vampire!Zuko vigilante story with all the mutual pining of forbidden love, their determination to keep their true identities secret. Dark and violent with plenty of angst sprinkled in.

Drive You Home, rated T

Zuko always drives Katara home after she gets off work.

One night, he doesn't show up. He's stuck somewhere between living and dying, and he doesn't know how to escape.

Inspired by Drive You Home by Jackson Wang

If Only I'd Have Known (You Had a Storm to Weather), rated T

All seven prompts for Zutara Week 2021 in one, convenient fic.

Day 1: Hair Day 2: Disguised Day 3: Glowing Day 4: Silence (free day) Day 5: Mend Day 6: Spirits Day 7: Stories

Individual summaries at the beginning of each chapter.

Buckle up folks, this is a feels trip and I'm holding nothing back.

Since When?, rated T

The air around her is filled with a deadly crackle of electricity as she stands, frozen, staring at the streak of pale blue lightning that spells her end. It’s only a few seconds, she knows. She’s seen how fast Azula’s lightning strikes. She knows this is the end of her, and suddenly time is almost at a standstill. Everything she’s ever done, ever wanted to do, flashes before her, and she’s filled with such an overwhelming sense of despair and loss and regret that she will never get to experience all those things.

And then the lightning is interrupted by a dark shadow throwing itself in its path, and someone is shouting - someone whose voice is raspy and desperate and familiar - and all she can do is stare, horrified, as the lightning meant for her strikes his chest instead, tossing him to the ground like he’s nothing more than a discarded old doll.

---

Confessions come too late. A future is lost. Nothing can be done.

How to Bake a Cake, rated T

A cute, fluffy piece about childhood friends Katara and Zuko who reunite unexpectedly and are forced to face the fact that friendship might not be the only thing they feel for each other.

We Weren't Meant for Forever, rated M - Alternate Ending Here

An angsty, heartbreaking story about the love that blossoms between Katara and a cute, flirty nurse named Zuko after Katara saves a boy from a violent attack in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se where she lives.

The Spot Thief, rated T

A one-shot about a passive-aggressive war over a coveted parking space that leads to sparks flying when the two young professionals finally meet.

Brightest in the Dark, rated T

Rebels are causing problems within Caldera City and Zuko's council is being useless in terms of stopping it. Katara plans to deal with them herself as the Painted Lady and ends up teaming up with the Blue Spirit.

Little Spark, rated G

Izumi starts firebending for the first time. She wields blue fire. She is upset because she wanted to be a waterbender like her mama. Zuko is worried because he remembers Azula's blue fire. Katara reassures them both.

Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe, rated G

In a world where there was no Hundred Year War, Zuko is assigned to be the Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe by his uncle, Fire Lord Iroh. In the frigid South Pole, he meets a fascinating waterbender named Katara, who happens to be the princess.

Slow Motion, rated T

Katara comes up with a plan to help Zuko de-stress when they decide to visit her family in the Southern Water Tribe and they go penguin sledding together.

Scar Tissue, rated M

The original version of These Scars of Ours, it follows a similar plot at first, diverging when it comes to the political plot and the aftermath.

Zutara Drabble December (series), mostly rated G and T

A mix of angst and fluff flash fiction pieces based on the ZK Drabble December 2020 prompts.

[aitarose]

OUR LAST SUMMER (A.MIYA) —❥ pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader

synopsis: one summer was all the time you had together—all the time you had to bask in the sun-kissed rays and sand-filled beaches, share soft butterfly kisses and feel the comfort of being wrapped in his arms—until his boat sailed off into the sea, forever. 

word count: 3.0k

genre: mamma mia inspired, summer fling, somewhat stuck together, angst, fluff, casual/formal writing, second person

warnings: commitment issues, mentions of suggestive content, minor cursing, heartbreak?

notes: this was an impulse blurb because i haven’t posted any actual fics in nearly a month so here you go lol asdfjl IT’S A LITTLE ROUGH BUT I HOPE IT’S LEGIBLE LMAO AND ITS SHORT AS HELL SORRY JALSD MY BRAIN D!ED

—❥ DIRECTORY

You remembered the first time you’d seen him.

He was a stranger, a man that you’d never once met before—standing smack-dab in the middle of your dock, the place you’d always come to clear your thoughts after hours upon hours of work, though you didn’t technically own it. It was just tradition, an accustom that you’d grown so used to that it seemed like everyone’s daily—well, everyone but his.

There were few people you didn’t know on the island, having been a member of the local family business of hotels and inns. Your little paradise, the chains of suites and saunas that you liked to think were a hidden wonder of the world—hidden to only you and the reoccurring tourists that would stay on your infamous Greek Elysium. 

The usual familiarity was scarce at the sight of his bright blonde hair and sun-kissed skin, light freckles peppered across the swells of his cheeks—no doubt caused by countless hours at sea as he stood beside a large sailboat. He appeared to be a free spirit, much different to all of the others that would find stay on the shores. 

It was a common getaway, an escape from the reality of life and the troubles that came with emotional attachments and labor. Every personality was alike, each one masking the pain of all that tied them down—wishing that they’d ever have to board that boat back to the mainland, and just stay in a world without worries and never-ending surf. 

But the way he was standing with his body language in reaction to the sea, made you think that perhaps he wasn’t like all of the other’s who came and went. That perhaps he was a free spirit entirely on his own, one that didn’t force the necessities of comfort and relaxation on his mind—it just came naturally.

“You lost?” Your voice called out, the sound ringing with the wind chimes against his sails—diverting his attention from the white peaked waves to your melodious sound. He gave you his full attention, immediately focusing on your approaching frame—a look of relief arising on his face. 

He reached behind his neck, scratching the roots of his hair whilst a sheepish smile gleamed in the light. “Thank god, you found me!” He chuckled, the browns in his eyes sparkled with golds and copper, complimenting his overall look perfectly—in all honesty, you didn’t think you’d ever seen such a handsome man. “I docked around a half-an-hour ago, just didn’t know where I was supposed to head next.”

“Would a beautiful girl like yourself happen to have the time to help a poor sailor out?”

Shaking your head, you grinned, scoffing slightly at the obvious flirtation, before walking towards him. Your feet moved in small steps, thoughts dancing around the idea of a summer fling—after all, it wouldn’t be the first time something like this had happened. You, an eccentric woman, one with the island, always seeming to attract men of all natures with not a care in the world.

Maybe he would be your new conquest, your newest mark in the endless journey of love that you never wanted to conclude. Another man who’s mood would turn from complete adoration to disgust when you’d reject his love and send him off to sea—never to be met again. Simply a memory you’d look back on when your past ran wild and smile in nostalgia. 

You plopped down on the end of the dock, head thrown back as your feet touched the water—a refreshing feeling taking over your entire body. The man watched in amusement at your obvious compatibility with the ocean currents and approached you as you patted the place beside you—an open seat reserved for him.

“So, sailor.” You mocked, swinging your jaw to face him with a sing-song tone. “Tell, me. What brings you to my island?”

He raised his eyebrows, creases appearing near his forehead with youthful wrinkles at their wits—not hiding how enamored he was at your playful tone. “Your island?” There was a matched mood in the both of your speech, potential feelings rising in the pits of your stomachs. “I’m sorry, gorgeous. Last I checked, you didn’t own all of Greece.” 

You scoffed, kicking your feet up to splash his ankles—cold sprays of salt water hitting the skin of your shins up to your thighs. “Well, last I checked lonely sailors didn’t talk back to pretty women—or are you just an enigma Mr...”

“Miya.” He replied, concluding the sentence that you hadn’t been able to finish with ease—identity revealed to the girl he’d already festered a crush on, despite it only having been a mere twenty minutes since you’d first begun to speak. “Miya Atsumu.”

‘Y/N L/N.” You held out a hand with a shit-eating grin as he gripped it firmly, shaking your palm enthusiastically whilst your eyes held his—a silent stare down in the midst, the morning sunrise changing to one of noon, reminding you of the ticking time. “And how long did you say you’ll be staying here?”

“Well, I’m here for my brother’s wedding.” Atsumu shrugged, nudging your shoulder with his and gazing out to the countless other sailboats in the bay. “Technically, I’m only meant to be here for a few weeks...”

“...but I’m sure I’ll find something here to keep me longer.”

And that he did. 

He’d managed to find a countless number of reasons to keep himself busy. Infinite excuses not to set his sail at sea—excuses that had nothing to do with the start of Osamu’s wedding festivities, or with the waning fear of his workplace calling him back to play, or even the worry of his heavy pockets running dry of cash.

Perhaps it had something to do with how his heart pounded whenever you were around. The artery nearly jumping out of his chest in the times you’d grab his hand and pull him along the stone-studded paths throughout the tropical trees,  giving him tours of your favorite spots—laying picnic blankets under the shade and sharing piña coladas with pink straws. 

Or the constant days at the beach. How you’d share an umbrella only for it to fly away in the wind—leaving the two of you out in the open rays of the sun, vulnerable to burns that Atsumu always managed to obtain. You later having to help him wash off in a cool shower—concern furrowing at your brows with every wince and whine he’d muster. 

Treating him as your own personal island dweller, you’d become attached at the hip. Neither one of you wanting to be without the other for longer than a day—knowing that your time was limited, but ignoring it all the same. The summer was one of new opportunities and experiences, things that you had already set your mind to—only now having his name next to those goals.

Your first impressions had been correct, he was undoubtedly different from all of the other flings you’d had in the past—and you’d come to realize this on the day he’d asked you to be his date to his brother’s wedding. The brother that had no idea you existed, whom you hadn’t ever planned on meeting was inevitably getting an unexpected guest.

That unexpected guest being you, of course, arriving with Atsumu on your arm and wearing a beautiful shade of baby blue. Osamu and his bride had welcomed you with open arms, no suspicions at all when they’d noticed the genuine look of happiness in the blonde’s eyes—a look that they hadn’t seen come out of him in a very very long time.

“Was it everything you dreamed it would be?” He whispered, lips pressed against your hair—arms holding you close as the gentle orchestrals echoed in the night night breeze. The shadows of candle lit jars and paper lanterns covering your face in defined shades of grey—making you look all the more gorgeous.

You sighed into his chest, taking in his sweet scent, that of fresh oranges and salt—the smell of the ocean never truly washing away from his aura. “I loved it, actually.” An earnest tone spoke out from your mouth, sincere admissions flowing like waves, reaching his ears and giving him little dreams of the future—your future.

“It was one of the most beautiful ceremonies we’ve hosted, and I truly mean that.” Your voice was soft, quiet as to not disturb the calm mood in the moonlight—the stars shining down on every pair on the dance floor, even the young children blowing kisses in each other’s direction, not knowing the true feelings of love, yet wishing for them in their hearts. 

Atsumu took a step back, holding your hand in his and spinning you beneath the stringed bulbs—smiling warmly as you let out an uncontrollable giggle—complaining how he was making you dizzy with glee. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so utterly full of admiration for a single person in the entirety of his life.

With a smirk at the corners of his cheeks he pulled you in, twirling you back around and into the safety of his tanned arms—the physical contact was nothing new to you, yet there was something in the way his palms held yours that made you feel like there were ulterior motives to his antics. 

“Steady there, sailor.” You whispered, slightly out of breath—not only from the tireless dancing you’d endured all evening, but from the minimized distance between your bodies. His lips were a mere centimeters away from yours, so close and also so far. “Wouldn’t want you doing something you might regret.”

He shook his head, leaning in to commit to the thing he wanted most in the world—his fingers reaching up to guide your chin to his, the calloused skin of his thumbs tickling your sensitive nerves and setting free all of the festering butterflies in your chest. 

“Trust me, gorgeous, when I say that I don’t have regrets.”

His words were quickly muffled as you pressed your lips against his, smothering any quips that could possibly arise and drowning them in an ocean of pure desire and infatuation. It felt like you were on ecstasy, the uncontrollable yearning for his intimacy finally being yours to have and to hold—all coming together in one innocent kiss in the middle of an almost empty wedding reception. 

Your palms held his jawline, pulling him as close as possible whilst doing your best to convey your display of passion as small and intimate—not wanting to steal the celebrations of the day from the bride and groom—who’d in all honesty, disappeared themselves hours before, no one having seen them since then.

A quiet gasp rose from your throat as he bit your bottom lip, wanting more even though he knew that it wasn’t the time you could grant his wish—anticipation for the night to come, when you’d leave the party hand-in-hand, rushing from the back of his brain to the frontal lobe as he pulled away.

“’Tsumu.” You breathed out, eyes locked on his with giddiness underlying the tiredness in your voice. His expression matched yours, one of completion and success—patting himself on the back in imagination with the knowledge that he’d won your attention. “What was that?”

He stepped aside, still holding your hand in his, leading you off of the stone platform and into the gallery of cloth-lined tables with scattered guests—drunk in happiness and alcohol, blind to any real-world worries. The moment felt like a fever dream, an event that only occurred in film and television—nothing that you’d ever expected to experience yourself.

But with Atsumu, anything seemed to be possible. The slim probabilities becoming a zero percent error whenever he set his mind to a goal, bringing you along with him every step of the way. His calls out to you raspy from ahead, scratchy from the amount of hollering and applause he’d performed for his twin during speeches and vows.

“That,” he began, glancing back at you as you ran together towards his little villa, “that was only the beginning of the rest of our endless summer.”

And he was right, it certainly was the beginning of something. Something special and real—something that you’d never once felt in your life, right in your arms, right in front of you. He was your perfect match, you were tired of denying it—but there was one thing that the two of you had forgotten in the blissful montage of stolen kisses and sleepless nights.

Every beginning has an end. 

All stories have a final chapter, one that no reader wanted to page through—but couldn’t resist knowing the final outcome of their two favorite characters, what could possibly happen to their relationship, their future, their unspoken and unequivocal love for one another that had manifested on the ink blotched pages. 

Some had happy endings, epilogues in which the main love interests proceeded to get married, have a few kids that’d run around their fenced backyard with the sprinkler system running on overdrive. That was the dream, the dream that seemed so idealistic to most, the ideal life to live—to grow old holding hands against the oak wood of your rocking chairs as the sun set over the horizon. 

But that wasn’t your ideal life, and neither was it Atsumu’s. 

So, your story wasn’t one of those lucky fairy tales that had a happily ever after. It wasn’t a bedtime story that you’d read to your grandchildren or younger relatives, nor was it a time you’d try to forget as it ended right where it had initially begun—on the public docks of your inn house, in front of his weary sailboat.

The only differences being the setting sun rather than the rising dawn and the twinkling stars appearing in the dark sky in contrast to their disappearance in relation to the morning clouds. Perhaps it was the universe telling you that it was all coming to an end, shooting off into the darkness with the explosions of nebulas and constellations. 

“So, this is it.” Atsumu spoke aloud, possibly to you or the emptiness of the sea. The usual warmth in his tone sounding robotic and unkept, unfamiliar to your heart, unfamiliar from the man you’d come to hold such strong feelings for in a mere three months. “This is our last night, our last minutes.”

He turned to face you, hands holding the limp ropes whilst pulling them tight and wrapping them in their holsters, billowing the sails in the strong night breezes—there was said to be a storm brewing, and it was ever so timely to have happened the same night a hurricane was forming in your blackened and broken heart. 

You’d never seen such a sorrowful expression on his face, used to the typical dumbstruck happiness and easygoing nature that was void and lost, that absence setting in the reality of your relationship’s oblivion. He let go of his secured ties, elbows leaning against the railing and towards you as you stood at the edge of the doc. 

“It doesn’t have to end here, you know.” He suggested, his voice shaky and unsure—not knowing what your response would be—not knowing that you loved him, too. “You could come with me, see a world that isn’t an isolated island—we could travel together, see all the other wonders—we could be happy, forever.”

Your breath hitched, chest airtight, all of the oxygen in your lungs at max capacity—catching in your lungs with no chance of getting out. His words had somehow managed to itch the hidden and sensitive regions of your heart—the ones that had always been guarded from others, the places that he’d been able to weasel his way into. 

At the look on your face, he already knew your answer. An unspoken rejection standing stale in the humid air between you, the still distance growing further and further despite your motionless stances. Two broken hearts longing for one another with no resolution to be met. 

He bit his lip, holding back tears in the nightly shadows and nodding his head—believing that he’d been right all along. That his presumptions about you had actually been correct, that he hadn’t been different, that he hadn’t been your person amidst the countless other personalities you’d fallen for over the summers—that he’d simply been another paradisiac fling that you’d thrown away. 

But he’d never been so wrong. 

You did love him, you loved him with your entire soul—your entire existence. There was no dream you wanted more than to be with him forever, to spend every single moment in his company of laughter and contagious smiles. To pepper him in kisses and take morning dips in the ocean as the sun rose over the horizon. 

He was your soulmate, the other half that you never thought you would find—an egocentric and boastful man unlike any other you’d met before. Atsumu was your salvation, but with the fear of commitment and settled life at the back of your brain, you had no choice but to watch as his love faded into remorse. As his undying love was pulled beneath your currents of self-doubt. 

“Thank you.” He spoke, words dull yet also meaningful—full of every last confessional emotion he had to make, full of all the lost ‘I love you’s’ and goodnight wishes in the past seventy-two days of being in each other’s arms. “Thank you for letting me love you.”

And with those words, your heart sailed into the vast horizon—through the swift currents and past the submerged rocks, peaking in the rising and falling black waves. The bright white sail of his stern shading into grey as he became nothing but a speck in the night—lost to the endless sea and unknown future, a future without you. 

A future that you’d never know anything of, communication gone, forgotten between you and stripped away by the receding tides. The tides that had come just as fast as they’d gone—a physical representation of the whirlwind love story that you’d lived during the most memorable summer of your life. As you’d never be able to forget him. 

You’d never be able to forget the first man you’d ever loved. 

taglist of bestie boos <3:

@bokoutoebutmain​ @boba-duckie​ @ryuomen​ @sexy-bee-juice​ @nekomabvc​ @cambodianprincess6

aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy, claim, or mimick my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers and tags as your own. do not use my blog as a template for your own, or base your theme on mine.

[simprisottowriter]

I absolutely adored your head cannons for Giorno and Bruno! I’d love to see some similar ones for either Jotaro or Josuke 💜

     I'd be delighted to write for both of them, rainfoxx! Both Jotaro and Josuke are wonderful choices! I have a soft spot for them! As always, hope you like these headcanons!

°Fluff Headcanons°

◇ Having built his career, his work takes a big part of his day. So even when he is in his office, finishing papers for hours, he always leaves Star Platinum to roam around the house, mostly being by your side. Star Platinum expresses every emotion that Jotaro doesn’t. It is so obvious that the stand is delighted to be with you! Being intrigued by every small task you do around the house, it is always very willing and excited to give you a hand. Even if Star accidentally ends up making a mess.

◇ Star Platinum loves learning new things, and treasures every time you read him a book. Though, whenever you leave the stand from your sight, it might end up bringing random things from outside. If you end up with someone else's drink or with a new kitten, it’s not your fault. Caring for Star Platinum is like babysitting an energetic and happy child.

◇ Jotaro loves staying at home. Crowds overwhelm him. Near you, he feels different than he does with other people. To him, you feel home. ♡

◇ He treasures the moments full of silence that you spend together. Sometimes, he likes not having anything to talk about. Just doing his thing and being near you is fine for him. Silence for him isn’t awkward. It’s a way of showing that he feels comfortable enough with you to be himself.

◇ The first time you met him, in a project regarding marine wildlife, you probably felt his overwhelmingly cold and intimidating attitude that everyone was telling you about. No matter what others were gossiping about Jotaro’s behavior, you wanted to learn more about him. Thus, you were the one who invited Jotaro to your group. Though, you were worried if he didn’t like your presence, since it was difficult to understand what he was feeling. Your worries disappeared as you listened to him answer so eagerly and softly to your every question about sea life. It was strange but comforting to see him with a much softer expression than before.

◇ Thing is, that he feels intimidating to others that cannot read him and understand him as well as you do. Jotaro is truly a thoughtful sweetheart, and once he loves someone he'll do everything he can to ensure they are safe. Even if he shows it a bit harshly and in an overprotective way, he truly cares. He even makes Star Platinum act as your personal guard.

◇ His ideal date would probably be a calm walk by the sea or a short stroll around town. Ideally, he’d like living in a small seaside town, away from the crowded areas of the city. Wouldn’t mind visiting the aquarium. Though, the exotic sea-life isn’t something that impresses him. He has already seen these rare species through his work and in numerous books. Steals soft glances at you, while you look at all the colorful fish that gather at your finger, while tapping on the glass. You can basically see him blushing through his hat, even if he tips it to hide his blushing-red face. ♡

◇ Jotaro truly falls for someone's personality and their sweet smile. Everything else is superficial. Appearances don’t matter to him a lot.

◇ At the start, he's very private about his hobbies. Though, he has many interests aside from marine biology. His hobbies don't always circle around his career.

◇ Not very good with affection or PDA in general. At first, he'd shy out from cuddling, and let Star Platinum keep you in its arms. But when Jotaro warms up to your presence, his hugs are more frequent and godlike. Full of warmth, unparalleled comfort and so protective, that you feel like you are safe from everything. You'll melt in his strong arms. ♡

◇ Avid fan of dad jokes. Says them anytime he can. Mostly says them quietly, as you are beside him, so that you are the only one who can hear them.

◇ Would cook for you whenever he has free time. He might be a workaholic, but he loves caring for you.

◇ Elegantly emanates a fragrance of body spray, paired with a soft scent of seawater and fresh air. His clothes always smell divine. Like they just came out of the drier. Generally, Jotaro feels like a gentle morning breeze.

◇ Sleeps with the dolphin plush you bought him for his birthday. Has even given it a cute nickname.

◇ He's not very accustomed to technology, but he’s trying his best! You're much more knowledgeable with devices than him, so he really admires you for that.

◇ Clean, very sharp and bold handwriting. Neat but plain. Mostly writes in caps. Never forgets punctuation.

◇ When he is in high spirits, he lets his favorite cassettes play in the background, filling the room with the gentle sound of jazz and blues. R&B is also a big favorite of his. He always makes sure to play his music not very loud, since he doesn't want to bother you. Though, you love listening to his fave songs! You always praise his good taste in music till he becomes red-faced. Adores every song you recommend him.

◇ His frequent visits to the sea are mostly work related. But even when he observes and researches sea life by the shore, he never forgets to bring home a small seashell for you. He says that its delicate and beautiful, which reminded him of you. ♡

◇ Summer in Morioh means relaxing hangouts with Josuke, full of his warmth and affection. Though, when the first leaves fall and school life is around the corner, the time you can spend together is more limited than before. That doesn’t mean he can’t go out with you after school! 

◇ Loves going on study dates. The atmosphere of the cafe is relaxing. Even if he jokes with you most of the time, and doesn’t do any school work during your hangouts, he isn't as careless as he seems. Through these study dates he ensures that you are keeping up with your studies. Plus, he understands way better the subjects when you explain them to him! University is a bit difficult for both of you, but Josuke’s presence makes it much more bearable! 

◇ Though, Josuke would prefer hanging out at home. Adores being in the safety of his room, where he could express his love for you through cuddles and any kind of physical affection. If I didn’t make this clear enough, Josuke loves PDA! Whenever he notices that you feel a bit down, he immediately squeezes you in his arms! ♡

◇ Whenever you are hanging out at home, Josuke’s stand loves being by your side! It is as affectionate as he is. Crazy Diamond always keeps you in his embrace while you are gaming with Josuke. Sometimes, it will take you in its arms just to ensure you are not harmed in any way, by checking if you have any wounds it can heal for you. ♡

◇ Josuke will always check on you, and make sure you are eating well, staying hydrated and getting enough sleep. Usually through text messages. He would prefer phone calls, as he likes hearing your voice. Josuke might not even care this much for himself and his health, but his first priority is taking care of his friends, and most importantly, you!

◇ He loves making you happy. Not only with quality time spent together, but also with small gifts! Whenever he can afford buying something extra for you, he will. He’ll spend his cash for you without second thinking.

◇ Emanates a sweet scent of cinnamon and lavender. The smell of his hair gel is very soft and characteristic.

◇ Always lets you borrow his clothes. You haven't realized how adorable he thinks you look in his outfit! ♡

◇ Delicate, legible and cursive handwriting. It looks a bit childish, but his letters are very clean! While taking notes (which is a bit rare on its own), he definitely doodles on each page. His textbook is filled with cute and messy sketches of stickmen, flowers and houses. 

◇ Usually has a variety of pop, rock and R&B songs in his playlist, which is mainly filled with Prince’s songs. Always likes sharing with you any new song he finds. He is very excited to describe to you all the emotions he felt while listening to it. Really values a good melody! Is very bashful when you send Josuke a playlist you made for him. 

◇ If you manage to wake up really early, Josuke won’t have his hairdo ready yet. His pompadour takes quite some time to do, so you always love helping him prepare his hairstyle. He finds it endearing how much you care for him, how carefully you brush his hair and apply his hair gel. Though, when its just you two, he doesn’t mind letting his hair down. His luscious, messy locks make your heart skip a beat, but Josuke has no clue. ♡