#side note this game made me BAWL

[namicakes]

The Alchemy

“Where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

Featuring:Timeskip!Kageyama Tobio x F!Reader

Note:( I've seen and watched so many olympic videos on tiktok where the players won and they straight up runs to their partner to hug them and that shii makes me bawl my eyes out cuz it's so cuteeee! specially when the music was The Alchemy by taylor swift)

The energy in the stadium crackles, vibrating through every row, and yet, Tobio's heart thunders louder than the cheers. He stands with his team on the court, wiping sweat from his brow, feeling every inch of exhaustion seep into his bones. This isn’t just a game. It’s the final match of the season, a showdown for the national championship. Everything he’s trained for, sacrificed for, poured his soul into, has come down to this night. His gaze flickers to the stands, searching, until he finds her.

You sat there, eyes wide and glistening, Your hands clasped tight with anticipation. You're wearing his jersey jacket, one he’d tossed over your shoulders on a chilly night months ago, and you're holding it like armor. Tobio’s heartbeat steadies as he watches you. You're always been his anchor, his constant, the one who’s seen him at his worst and still smiles as if he’s already won. The alchemy of your presence fills him with a strength beyond his own.

The referee’s whistle pierces the air, jolting him back into the moment. His coach calls for a timeout, gathering the team around for a final huddle. The score is tied. One last point to win it all.

“Focus, Kageyama,” his teammate whispers, clapping him on the back. Tobio nods, but his gaze drifts to the stands once more. You catched his eyes and mouths the words, “You’ve got this.” Your face is alight with unwavering belief, and he can feel the fire in his own heart catch and blaze hotter than ever.

As he takes his position on the court, he remembers all those late nights, when exhaustion clung to him like a second skin, and You would hold his hands, Your voice soft yet firm, whispering that his dreams mattered. The memory swells within him, fueling his resolve. Tonight, he wants to prove you right—to show you that your faith wasn’t misplaced.

The ball is tossed high, and he readies himself, every muscle tense, every sense alert. reading the play before it unfolds. His feet hit the floor in time with the beat of his heart, his body moving in practiced precision. When he leaps, he knows it’s perfect.

“Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads

Beer sticking to the floor”

His hand meets the ball, sending it soaring over the net with crushing force. The opposing team scrambles, their libero diving, but it’s too late. The ball slams into the floor on their side, sealing the game, sealing the championship.

“Cheers chanted, cause they said”

For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. And then, the crowd erupts. Tobio’s teammates rush toward him, pulling him into a blur of hugs and cheers, pounding his back, shouting his name. But his eyes search the crowd, heart racing, looking for the one person who made all of this possible.

“There was no chance, trying to be

The greatest in the league”

There—through the crowd, pushing her way to the edge of the stands, You watch him, Your hands covering your mouth, tears streaming down your face as you beam. You catches his eye and holds it, and the world around him fades.

“Where's the trophy?

He just comes running over to me”

Without thinking, he breaks away from his teammates, ignoring their shouts of celebration. The court, the noise, the lights—all of it falls away as he sprints across the polished floor, his eyes locked on you. It’s like something magnetic, an unstoppable pull drawing him to you.

As he reaches the edge of the stands, You jumped down, and in one fluid motion, he scoops you up, pulling you into his arms. You cling to him, laughter bubbling up from your lips, mingling with his. You were boyh lost in your own world, a moment suspended in time, untouched by everything around them.

“You did it, Tobio!” you cried, voice filled with pride and joy.

“We did it,” he corrects, his voice hoarse with emotion. He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Every night, every practice—when I thought I couldn’t push any harder, you were there. You made this possible.”

Your smile softens, and you cups his face in your hands, pressing your forehead against his. “Tobio, you were always strong enough. I just wanted you to see that.”

He kisses you then, a kiss filled with gratitude, with the words he’s never quite known how to say. And in that kiss, in your touch, he feels it—alchemy. The magic of two hearts turning something raw, something ordinary, into something golden. A transformation that goes beyond words, beyond mere wins and losses.

When you both pull apart, the stadium is still roaring, and his team is still celebrating around them. But this moment, this embrace, feels like it belongs to only them.

You leaned back, beaming, voice filled with laughter and tears. “Go celebrate with your team, champion.” You nudged him, but your hands stay resting on his shoulders, as if reluctant to let go.

“Not without you.” He takes your hand, guiding you onto the court beside him. You tried to protest, but his grip is firm, unwavering, and he gives you a look that tells you everything. He wants you there, beside him , under the lights, sharing in the victory you helped him achieve.

The team gathers around them, laughing and cheering, and You were swept up in their embrace. Tobio watches you, his heart swelling with pride—not just for the victory, but for having someone who believed in him enough to make him believe in himself.

As they stand there together, surrounded by the noise, the lights, the glory of the moment, Tobio realizes that this—the love, the faith, the strength you both share—is the true alchemy. The power that turned a dream into reality, that forged a connection deeper than any victory, and that will carry them through whatever comes next.

In the end, the championship was just the beginning. The real victory was what you both had created together—the alchemy of two souls, forever bound in love and belief.

[rsventhesecondd]

chapter two — unspoken words

note . english is not my first language, some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. (๑´·.̫ · `๑) + unproofread authors note . haha hi guys... I'm back. Well, I'm still on hiatus— i'm soso sorry ive been gone for like more than days even. I've been super busy, so please bare with me (*´д`*)

masterlist — previous — next

Finally the party goes on, Sakura surprisingly being good at grilling things — and well, Umemiya being him.

"[first name] , here taste this!" The white haired man said energetically, shoving a kebab on your hand. Your mouth was full of food. 

"Woah, it tastes good!" You said, munching on it "Did you make this?" 

"Yeah, I grew them myself! I'm glad you asked—" Umemiya said, rambling on and on about his plants , showing pictures of them as little seedlings even. 

You smile, matching his energy; rambling on with him. 

point of view ; backstory incoming 

 I couldn't care less about vedgetables or fruits. 

Behind the joyous laughter and smiles I gave, my intentions remain unscathed. 

" Ume , " 

"Oh, also– look at these pictures of my new plants!" 

, said him with a bright smile. How.. nostalgic 

"Ah, what were you saying [name]?" —

      — " nothing! now, um.. tell me about the plants! "

I couldn't tell him. 

What was the word I used again? Right. Nostalgic 

Nostalgic was the first thing that came to mind when I saw his smile. His smile that never changed, his smile that was once a frown— whilst I have tried and tried to bring it back like a clown. 

—

"Come on, atleast eat somethinggg!" Umemiya insisted with a smile, pushing the plate closer to you. 

Still, your eyes gloom— expression remaining as if words that was said were going through your ear and the other. 

"Yeah, go eat [Name]! you haven't touched your plate!" One of the other orphans said. Orphans like you two.

Truth to be told, seeing you like this.. made his heart shatter.

the situation you were in, not just you– but the situation you both were in. 

he wanted to crash out, cry and bawl like a little kid and gush out all his anger.

But what else could he do? The one whom consoled him everytime he cried, wiping his tears away and any sadness in a fly — was now in a pitful state that he never could have imagine. 

Was that really you? 

" Don't worry mom, i'll make sure to take reaally reaally good care of ume! " You said with a bright smile. 

how he wished he could see that smile once again. 

—

"I knew I could count on you! thank you [name]" , said your mom– followed by your dads voice.

" We'll stop by the icecream shop to get you two your favorite flavors, okay? "  

" Really? You promise? " You said, eyes brightening. 

"Pinky promise"

—

And then, there I was. Standing at their grave. 

[ your pov ]

I looked to the side, seeing my older brother cry. He looked.. different. His hair, his expression..., everything.

Its my fault, isn't it? I'm the reason they died, I'm the reason they crashed on their way to the store. If not for me, they would've gone straight home from that.. meeting they had. I was should've told them that I didn't want any, I— it's my fault.

or is it?

no, its that rotten corporates fault. 

We were supposed to be happy, it was family day. It was their day off, we were gonna celebrate and stay home play games and watch movies for hours. 

But no. 

They called. And now it was as if they were sending my parents off. 

why? 

 Why? Why my parents? Arent you a big company? Why? Why do you choose the underprivileged people to do the rotten work? Why don't you higher ups do it yourselves? 

Oh wait, I know. 

Because humans are rotten. All of them are trash, they said they would help us, give us a source of income and make our lives better. Promised us a better future.

But what'd they do? They took my parents lives instead, took them away from us. Fuck that if this is what they meant by what they said.

I hate them, I hate everyone else. I'll never forgive them. Ill never believe in what anyone else says.

[choccy-zefirka]

Living Bodies

Woe! 3K words of body worship with Emmrich and a plus-size Rook, who that had a horrible first time as a teen and internalized her partner's disgust, be upon ye!

Content warning for references to bullying, dubious consent during the aforementioned first time, fatphobia, and also everyone's privates being out among the Necropolis flowers :3 (They are doing it in a cute skeleton-adorned gazebo that came to me in a dream)

Dear Lottie,

I am so terribly sorry you fell sick and missed all the fun! But we did it! We actually did it, all according to plan! Sprung the trap for my "secret admirer"! And our suspicions were correct!

All those gunky little lumps of soap Papa found folded in my laundry — they were put there by the washer girl! That knife ear, the one that looks like a toad! I think her name is Len-something, but who cares? And yes, she made them herself, out of whatever goop she's gathered round the alienage — because she has a """"crush"""" on me! The cheek! As if just because I don't like boys exclusively, I'd ever give the time of day to a walking, talking potato! She isn’t even cute in that scared rabbit way, like elf girls are supposed to be!

She did come to the "date" me and the girls arranged, too, and blathered on and on about how beautiful I am (fact) and how much she likes me (yuck)... Until we had enough and pushed her into the river!!! Oh, I wish you were there with us, it was ab-so-lu-te-ly hilarious!

Say, since you are sat by the window in your chair all day, have you heard any news out on the street? From the paper criers, maybe? I want to know if Len-whatever ended up drowning.

Correspondence between two traders' daughters. 9:40 Dragon

***

Happy now, Sticks?

Did her like you told me to. All the way. What a shitshow. Lardy Lenny is even lardier naked, that's for sure. Felt like sticking my dick into a giant slug. Next time I lose this stupid game, just send me into a shem's mabari kennels with salami for a sword. That will be way less painful.

Don't know how I'll fuck normal girls no. The fat cunt ruined it for me. Think I'll be having nightmares for years after this. Told her that, and she started bawling. Didn't even look funny like she usually does in tears. Just gross.

So yeah. Enjoy, I guess.

Note from an alienage boy to his friend, attached to a crumpled set of girl's underclothes. 9:42 Dragon

***

At first, Lenore is too distracted by turning and flexing her left hand. Her wrist has been getting a little stiff lately: she probably holds her arm at an uncomfortable angle when mixing potions. No surprise, since she is self-taught. Aching joints and sleepy pin pricks are the least of her problems, really! When she was just starting out, on a work bench that was just a half-rotten plank of wood balanced on a rock in the alienage backyards, she'd splash hissing, blistering liquid all over herself, turning her forearms into pale clumps of scar tissue, like cold leftover noodles plastered sadly at the bottom of a bowl.

Maybe if she observes Emmrich more closely during their studies together, she will figure out how to position her arms properly... Ugh. She'll find any excuse to "observe" him, won't she? Well, she's allowed; they are a couple now, outlandish as it sounds!

A couple.

All at once, her mind catches up to what her ears heard after Emmrich, gentle and attentive as always — what has she done to deserve him? — pointed out her stiff wrist.

Finer points of anatomy.

Her eyes dart upwards from her hand, and she gapes across their elegantly arranged tea table. Emmrich smiles, soft yet playful, eyes half-lidded and shining in the wisp light.

There is that side of him, that confidence — decades' worth of it — that sometimes makes her, all flushed and boiling alive in unspoken greed, wish for more than just quick kisses and lingering glances and fingertips resting on knuckles, shoulders, waists, whenever they stand too close. As if all of that was not already a gift far more generous than normally granted from someone like him to someone like her.

It has been a harmless enough indulgence to entertain, she supposes. A guilty pleasure, something titillating to think about in the secret alone hours while she touches herself. Not that she does it too often; bodies like hers aren't really meant for this, she's well aware... But still, that's also something couples are allowed to do, right — imagine each other's faces in place of characters from the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection?

But here and now, with Emmrich looking at her like that, it hits her with the full force of a Venatori blood forge trampling her to the ground. A keen, panicked awareness that this is not the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection. This is real — they are real. Especially her. Too real, too heavy, suddenly suffocating under her own weight, suddenly feeling the scented air of the Memorial Gardens with every pore of her skin, so tangibly, disgustingly physical that it begins to itch.

Most of her is carefully concealed underneath her usual Veil Jumper leathers, but if Emmrich, the real, non-fantasy Emmrich, decides to explore these finer points of anatomy, if he lifts the covers and sees just how much she the opposite of that...

Oh. Oh no.

She still remembers, a decade later, how the sight of her naked body broke the first and only boy that agreed to touch her. And that was before she got most of her scars!

She can't do that to anyone else, ever again. Especially not to him, not to her most treasured friend, not to the man who has been so kind to her that she dared bother him with her clumsy attempts at romance. Because with him, she could be certain, at last, that it would not turn out to be a prank.

How can she repay him by giving him nightmares?!

"Dearest? Why are you crying? Was I... Was I too forward? Too much?"

She did not even notice when the tears came. But here they are, marring her vision, so that there are two Emmrichs circling the table, kneeling in the grass next to her. Unafraid of the stains that will be left on the pristine Nevarran satin. Clasping her hands.

"I know that not all experience attraction the same way; if you would rather not explore this side of romance, that is perfectly fine, and wonderful! Your affection has already been such a beautiful gift."

Past her, the one that clung to the shadows, beyond the welcoming golden glow of camp fires, outside the reach of a friendly embrace; the one that spoke in sparse, grunt-like words, and kept her head down, beaten more than once, and shy far, far more than twice — that her would have made a vague noise and slunk away, never to bring this up again. But Emmrich — and Manfred! — was the one who brought her out of her shell. He deserves the truth, spoken with her whole chest.

"I... I do feel that kind of attraction towards you. You are a beautiful man, inside and out, and when I am with you, I sometimes forget myself and... pretend I am beautiful too."

She draws in a long, labored breath. She needs all the air in her lungs before this next plunge — she should know, she almost drowned once.

"But I am not. Especially not... from the neck down. You may have gotten used to my face..."

She dips her head — a habitual motion by now — letting her long, side-shaved fringe fall into her eyes. There's always quite a bit to hide under her hair: the dark rivulet of a birthmark on one side, the scar and the squinty damaged eye on the other. At least now she can do alchemical experiments in a mask and protective goggles. Less of an eye sore for Emmrich, to be sure.

"But trust me... My body is much worse."

She shuts her eyes and shrinks back into her seat, momentarily losing her present, adult, more or less mature and competent self (at least when it comes to alchemy and to… saving the world?) in the sheer blood-curdling terror of being seventeen again.

"The boy who took my virginity was so appalled that he said I'd scarred him forever. This has haunted me for ten years. And the... deed itself was punishment from his friends for losing some sort of dare. Do you understand?"

She forces herself to look into his eyes, even as the unseen, tightly wound strings holding her together begin to snap, one by one.

"Being with me... in that way... it's torture. I care for you too much to ever — "

"Lenore, my darling..."

Still on his knees — and still so tall that their faces are level — Emmrich pulls her hand to his lips and covers it in kisses. First on the outer side, swift, soft, each touch a beat of velvety butterfly wings; then, long, nearly reverent, on the inner side, where her pulse hammers against her bluish-pale wrist.

"Thank you for being frank with me. And I am truly, deeply sorry that you were betrayed with... such utter cruelty, in one of your life's most vulnerable moments. That fool of a boy was not the one scarred. You were. And oh, my dearest, you are still bleeding."

She listens to him in petrified silence, still as a startled halla before a long, soundless leap away from danger. She does not mean to — she knows Emmrich better than this by now; if he is disgusted by her, he will be much more polite about it — but instinctively, she braces herself for him to recoil away, grimacing like he is about to vomit. Overwhelmed by the sheer mental image of her laid bare before him. A slug; a toad; the stuff of nightmares.

Any second now. Any second.

He never does recoil.

"I know I cannot close this wound with a few words, much as I wish I could... But, darling, please try to take them to heart nonetheless."

His eyes, fully open now, reflect so much of the Gardens' ephemeral glow that it feels like she's sinking into two pools of starlight.

"Every body is as unique, as precious, as beautiful as the soul within. We study them, we mend them, we venerate them, in life and beyond. Your body is already dear to me because it is yours... And if you were ever to open it to me, like you opened your beautiful mind, there would be no greater honor than to discover — to savor — every last inch of it."

"I..."

Lenore swallows, her head swimming. If this lofty speech were delivered by anyone else, she'd have scoffed in doubt. Does she look like someone to whom a man (or woman, or anyone) would wax poetic about the sanctity of mortal flesh? What's the catch? But it's Emmrich, her Emmrich, whose voice and touch make it so easy to... Well. Forget herself.

"I want you to. Please."

He beams at her, placing one final kiss in the middle of her palm. Like a seal for a secret pact.

"Of course, dearest. Follow me."

They both get up, leaving Manfred (who has been off chasing the see-through Fade butterflies among the headstones, bless his innocent makeshift heart) to clean up their little picnic... Or at least to amuse himself with exploring how tea cups can be neatly stacked together.

Emmrich leads her to a secluded gazebo, crowned by yet another rendition of the embracing skeletal lovers that she has seen throughout the Gardens. Its threshold is barely visible, overgrown by a rustling carpet of delicate white blossoms that heave like the softest seafoam around Lenore's ankles.

"Shroud's kiss," Emmrich muses, after plucking one fragile white cup and placing it in Lenore's hand, right over the spot he kissed. The petals feel weightless against her skin, effervescent as a melting snowflake, as if woven from the Veil itself.

"I always loved the legend around this flower. They say that it grows on lovers' graves, and that one moves closer to the Fade simply by inhaling its fragrance."

He gestures to a bench under the intricate dome of metal lace, which is also cushioned in countless white flowers. She sits down, and a pale blue barrier shimmers into place around the gazebo. Shielding them from prying eyes. Emmrich's doing — or the Gardens'? Was this a secret rendezvous nook for someone else, once? Someone who might be buried underneath? Or, knowing Nevarrans, cast into the statue at the top of the dome?

"Do you think that legend is true?" Lenore asks, momentarily unable to contain herself. The fingers of her free hand race along the tips of the blossoms, and her alchemist's mind races in tandem.

"If we could maybe extract the essential oil and run a few experiments; but oh, that would require sacrificing so many of these beautiful flowers..."

Emmrich chuckles. He has leaned over her, bringing his lips so close to hers that she can drink in his breath, a pulsating heat beginning to rise at the bottom of her stomach.

"It is true if I will it, my dear," he murmurs, and the second he closes the distance, his tongue meeting hers in a kiss deeper than any they have shared before, the air all around them erupts in a cascade of pale-green sparks. Ghostly petals glide through the air, and if Lenore truly does tumble into the Fade, it is in a part of it that is as serene and sheltered as their Lighthouse.

The fragrant breeze is like silk against her burning cheeks, caressing her, each stroke leaving her more and more light-headed. Somehow, her body stops feeling like a heavy heap of scrap metal that she has to lug around while everyone stares at her; it is hugged gently by the cushion of petals, while Emmrich, as promised, explores it with both affection and... and gratitude.

He is still kissing her, diving deep with no fear of drowning, when his gloved hand unbuckles her belt and slips past the innermost layer of her traditional elven tunic. Her insides clench at the sensation of velvety fabric against her stomach rolls, and then her chest. As if she is balancing on a precarious clifftop somewhere back among the floating ruins of Arlathan.

But that startled pang soon dissolves into sweetest bliss. Emmrich has loosened the tunic's collar, allowing her shoulder and breast to escape, out into the warm, perfumed air. How scandalous! How very like the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection! Does she... Does she actually belong in one of those stories?

He continues to trace the outlines of her half-bared form, and his fingers are soon joined by his lips, which wander away from her gasping, half-parted mouth, and keep slowly moving down, paying a tribute of little kisses to each curve, each mole, each stretch mark. With a few motions of his deft, scholar's fingers, the layers of clothing peel off her torso completely, like she herself is a blossom unfolding.

His gaze measures her, from the flaming tips of her teardrop-shaped ears to the contours of her stomach. He smiles, a languid, hazy smile.

"Thank you for letting me see you, dearest."

"Can I..."

She clears her throat, part of her still dumbstruck in disbelief that this is actually happening. That she is actually saying this — to him.

"Can I see you as well?"

"I would be delighted."

She bites her lip, unsure where to start. But, ever so helpful, he weaves his fingers through hers, and patiently directs her through unclasping first his largest bracelet, then his collar pin.

Her heart hammers in her throat when she removes his jewelry and lays it on the bench beside her. With the bulkiest pieces out of the way, the buttons on his vest and shirt go next, and each of her little conquests over the delicate buttonholes is rewarded with a kiss from Emmrich. It does not slip past her that each of those grows a little sloppier than the next, a little more intermingled with bites and short, panting breaths. It's as if... As if he's enjoying her touch as much as she enjoying his.

At long last, his shoulders are bare as well. Exhaling softly, she marvels at the way the shadows of the gazebo’s lattice sculpt his bony clavicles, and runs her hands over the bristly cloud of short silver hair on his chest, and up his throat, where the skin is more worn with years of living, experiencing, being... him.

"You are perfect," she whispers, her thumb trailing over his cheekbones. At the sound of her words, his skin radiates rosy heat, and her body responds in kind.

"As are you, my darling."

His hands are back on her chest, as hers are on his. She chokes back a sound that might be a moan, or might be a sob. He pauses his chain of tender touches, uncertain if she is distressed. But she assuages his doubts by pressing into his mouth with another kiss, and if any tears do roll down her cheeks, those are tears of relief.

He hums in contentment at the back of his throat, and his fingertips, in their endless conductor's dance, brush along the texture of Lenore's many potion splash scars. She shudders when the cold metal of his few remaining rings glides over her, and the pulse between her legs, which has been growing stronger throughout their tender exchange of touches, of admiration, teeters close to its peak.

"Emm... Emmrich?"

She resurfaces from the kiss, dizzy and emboldened by the taste of him, and fumbles about for his hands, guiding them, like he guided hers, to push down her pants. His name comes out sounding as an awkward, stumbling mix between a needy plea and a tentative question. Emmrich, she means to say. Can you... Do this?

The thing is, she has no clue how to accommodate him between her thighs, underneath the soft pillow of her stomach. The worst parts of her, as the mirror says, as the memories in her head jeer.

But he smiles at her, and lavishes her with even more kisses, while she squirms under his searching lips, both nervous and aroused. Soon enough, he finds a comfortable angle... And again, he is on his knees before her. Fully giving himself to worship.

In romance serials, the good, beautiful partner with the perfect body orgasms when they are pleasured by their equally good, beautiful, perfect lover, and merely pretends to orgasm when the bad, comically inept or tragically forced lover, always fat, sweaty, and disgusting, slams against them like a dying tusket. What happens to the fat lover in the meanwhile, tends to be left out of the picture, because theirs is not the part of the story that the reader is here for. Perhaps, when the good lovers elope together into the sunset, the bad, fat lover is left to touch themselves all alone, in shameful secret, making a point not to overindulge, just like Lenore has in the past, because that would be disgusting...

And yet here she is. With a song of short, gasping notes coaxed from her lips, as his tongue circles within her and the ghostly blooms all around them merge into a flash of blinding white light.

When the peak is reached, when the wave hits her, and she, for once, is unafraid to drown, she impulsively grabs at the hair on the back of Emmrich's head... Which she only realizes once her mind stills a little — and instantly lets go, tumbling from the realm of pleasure back into awkward, clumsily physical reality. Apologizing for hurting him, again and again.

He looks up at her in half-drunken confusion, his hair in disarray, the pearly thread of her sex glinting in the corner of his mouth.

"Darling..." he manages to slur, his breath hitching. "You did not — "

Despite herself, she glances a little further down. And, for the first time — oh, by the Maker, Mythal, whoever, she is still so clueless! — she notices the bump in his pants. The little wet spot.

Oh. Oh.

He liked that.

"I wish I knew how to use my mouth the... the same way..." she stammers bluntly, still not looking away from the straining fabric.

"That is quite all right," he mouths, carelessly unspooling the band of red around his waist.

"There will be more nights like this one."

Until you become a lich and your duties take you away from someone so small and insignificant, a stray thought, like a charge of ice magic, runs through her brain, down her throat, impaling her very heart.

Grinding her teeth slightly, she wills her mind to return to the present moment. To the here and now. To Emmrich, brought to blissful ruin by the sight and feel and taste of her innermost self. To his sweet little moans and the rhythmic, almost elegant up-and-down pumps of his jeweled fingers, as they cup around the cock he finally brought out of his pants.

She never thought that Focus on his cock, focus on his cock, Lenore! would be a little chant of reassurance. The last time she saw erect, leaking flesh before her, she would rather have focused on anything else. But who knew that intimacy could be so different... even for the likes of her?

She bends forward and sneaks in a few kisses — on his wet mouth, over the desperately thrumming vein under his jaw — before his shuddering release leaves a messy splash of evidence over the both of them. She will help wash it off, of course; she knows the best potion mixes to do that... But it won't be something shameful, something that she had to get over with, retching and doubling over, her underthings stolen as evidence that the brave hero had survived the battle with the oozing, lumpy giant slug. It's simple, and natural — something that bodies do.

Bodies that are cherished and taken care of and worshipped. Hers revealed to him, his revealed to her.

Alive, here and now. Their skeletal forebears watching over them, in kindness and understanding.

[balalaijka]

books read in 2024, with notes

Problém tří těles (The Three Body Problem), Liou Cch'-sin

loved it, beautiful suspense, the video game aspect was very cool, felt that the last section where we see the trisolarans’ perspective makes it better thematically but weakens the dread that was so prevalent otherwise

Arabian Nights, transl. Haddawy

delightful, had some extremely raunchy parts that i wasn’t expecting, honestly it’s fascinating to see the convergence of so many literary impulses side by side

Červotoč (Carcoma), Layla Martínez

a shorter weird horror about cycles of trauma in three generations of women in a house with skeletons both metaphorical and literal within its walls

Kluci ze hřbitova (Cemetery Boys), Aiden Thomas

the plot was a bit predictable but the romance was sweet and yes, i did cry at the end a bit

Děti duny (Children of Dune), Frank Herbert

honestly i think herbert really struck gold with his writing of sibling relationships, the contrast of alia and paul’s dooms and leto ii and ghanima’s adventures were the highlight here

Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov

for a “problematic novel” i felt that nabokov does an excellent job of reminding us of hh’s monstrosity even if it is told directly through his pov, loved the literary references from edgar allan poe to carmen—always elegant but with the edge of almost satirizing intellectualism itself

The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson

honestly a perfect book to read even when you’re feeling burnt out—the nonlinear and rambling style makes it very interesting to read without taxing you too much, and the discussions of queerness and sexuality and art were throughly enjoyable

Entangled Life, Merlin Sheldrake

love this chaotic mess of a man, who’ll tell you about the chemical structures and scientific methods on one page and then describe taking lsd and brazenly admitting to apple theft on the next

The Wounded Sky, Diane Duane

as a fan of duane’s young wizards series, this is a fascinating window into the transition from her star trek novels to original writing, the banter is infectious, the alien characters delightful and the scifi jargon jargoning

EDIT: the lovely Ms. Duane herself clarified that the original fiction came first, my bad!

Binti: Home, Nnedi Okorafor

as a fan of the first book who felt that more time was needed to explore binti’s trauma, this book gives that narrative its space, and also delivers an honestly heartbreaking story about returning home but it’s not home not really because you changed but you love it but did it love you or did it only tolerate you when you fit its ideas of who you should be? the line “you used to be such a beautiful girl” made me bawl

The Devourers, Indra Das

the simple version of the summary is “iwtv but werewolves in mughal (?) era india,” it does fall into the trap of trying to make things edgy by indulging in game of thrones-style “grit”, but at the same time its a dream-like exploration of legacy and queerness

Wild Seed, Octavia Butler

a reread technically, but still holds up, butler does not hold back when it comes to fucked up power dynamics and the implications of having powers tied to genetics, anyanwu and doro remain some of the most fascinating depictions of immortals

Mind of My Mind, Octavia Butler

a shorter and more transitional work, i feel there could have been more detailing of the patternist society but on the other hand we see doro get his just desserts and it is amazing after all the shit he pulled in wild seed

Clay’s Ark, Octavia Butler

butler’s attempt at writing a horror slasher?

Bluets, Maggie Nelson

dreamy and indulgent, i generally just really love how nelson mixes up intellectualism and horniness like a cocktail and makes it amazing

Vicious, V.E. Schwab

amazingly paced with wonderful asshole characters, featuring a found family that probably shouldn’t have found each other and unapologetic vengeful sentiments

Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury

if you can ignore the voice in your head chanting “i would have done a better job hiding the books than montag,” this is an honestly life-changing examination of the importance of literacy??? the montag and beatty argument made me start annotating like i was in ap lit again

The Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer

stories so bright and vivid you’ll be mad that movies purporting to be “realistic depictions of medieval times” are always gray and misery-filled

When We Cease to Understand the World (Un Verdor Terrible), Benjamín Labatut

while the “prussian blue” chapter remains my favorite, the whole thing is a really good examination of the tangle of scientific progress and human atrocities, though the titular chapter did drag on and verge more on “melodramatic biopic” territory rather than the dry menippean satire that the rest of the book is

[classicschronicles]

Hi lovelies,

I feel like I’ve just returned from ‘buying the milk’. I’m sorry I disappeared for *checks notes* 11 months, but it’s been a hectic year. I feel like if I get into it I’ll sound like an AO3 author, so here are some very quick highlights- I have just finished my first year studying Classics at university, I qualified as a fitness instructor (which is a side quest nobody asked for), I’ve become a theatre kid again, and I finally watched Game of Thrones. Studying Classics at uni is basically telling everyone that you study Classics at uni and then getting one of two reactions- “What is that? What kind of job are you going to et with that?”. To which I have no response, because honestly I’m not sure. Or the ever famous- “Oh like The Secret History?”. To which I cry inside because it is nothing like The Secret History. It is actually reading so much Thucydides that he becomes your sleep paralysis demon, and having to translate so much Caesar and Cicero that your daydreams become wishing you were in the Theatre of Pompey on March 15th 44 BC… for no particular reason. And also crying at 3am whilst you try to delude yourself into thinking that this is so dark academia core (spoiler- it’s not). All that being said- this has actually been one of the best years of my life and I am so happy I get to study what I love.

Anyways, I feel like we’re missing the most important part- and that is of course Game of Thrones. Guys. I have a crush on Jaime Lannister. HEAR ME OUT! I can fix him! I promise. I just need one chance. But also, I would fight him because why did he do my girl Brienne like that. Anyone who makes her cry can fight me fr. You know what made me cry though- Shireen Baratheon. What the fuck was that. And Ser Davaos’ finding out and his whole “I loved that girl like she was my own”. BAWLED. Anyways, it might surprise you to know that her death was actually based on a very famous greek myth- the myth of Iphigenia. So that’s what we’re going to talk about today.

Iphigenia’s story finds its beginnings in another myth entirely- the myth of Agamemnon and the Deer. Quick fun fact- the movie ‘Killing of A Sacred Deer’ is actually based loosely on this. The story goes that Agamemnon, out hunting one day, killed a deer belonging to the Goddess Artemis. This angered Artemis, not least because the deer was pregnant and Agamemnon’s little hunting accident killed both the mother and the baby.

Fast forward to some time later, Agamemnon launches a thousand ships to save his sister-in-law Helen from the Trojans at the behest of his brother Menelaus, and also the whole blood oath situation. The Spartans and the Mycenaeans make camp at the island of Aulis whilst they wait for the rest of the fleet to arrive, only to find that when they are ready to set sail once more, they cannot leave the island. There is not wind to push their ships, the air hot and heavy and remarkably still. This goes on for quite some time. Eventually Agamemnon consults the priest Calchas who tells him that the Gods (Artemis) are angry with him and demand a sacrifice. More specifically, the sacrifice of a virgin. This is also where some accounts differ- some claim that it could be any female virgin, some say that it had to be Agamemnon’s eldest daughter. In all honesty, I think the latter is probably more accurate because of the level of hesitation he shows before he makes his final decision. If he could sacrifice any virgin I don’t really think he would care.

Anyways, he obviously cant just write to his wife and say “hey babe can you please ship our eldest daughter over, I want to sacrifice her xoxo”. So he instead he comes out with an altogether more devious plan, and that is to tell his wife that the Prince Achilles wishes to marry Iphigenia before they sail for Troy. Both Iphigenia and Clytemnestra are of course overjoyed that she should marry ‘the best of the Greeks’ and she comes to Aulis where the army wait for her.

This is where it starts to break my heart a bit. On the morning of Iphigenia’s wedding day, Clytemnestra dresses her daughter and prepares her. She, of course, does not know that she is preparing her child for death. Her fathers men come to her tent and escort her and her mother to the alter. However, she never gets to say her vows because as soon as she steps onto the platform, they cut her throat and spill her blood as an offering to Artemis. Her mother is of course beside herself with shock and grief, but her husband does little to comfort her, telling her only that Artemis is appeased, and with the return of the wind he is leaving for Troy.

Euripides’ Iphigenia at Aulis, differs from this account and tells the story that on the morning of her supposed wedding, Iphigenia was aware of her fathers plan to sacrifice her and accepts with stoicism and all the bravery of a child put in an impossible position. He writes the following, heartbreaking, lines:

Iphigenia- “If only I could sing like Orpheus, father! Orpheus, who could charm even the heartless rocks into following him! If I could use such a voice and have everyone charmed, have them convinced to agree with me and follow me, then I would use that voice. But I have no such skill. The only voice I have, father, my only skill, is in my tears and, here, father, I’m giving them to you! I’m giving you my tears! I’m giving you all I have! She leans before him and embraces his knees Here, father, here is the body of a suppliant! Here is the body that your wife has given birth to. I wrap its limbs around your knees and beg you: Please father, do not cut off my life short. Let me enjoy the sweet light of day and do not force me to enter the world beneath the earth. I’m your first one, father! The first one to call you father, the first one you called daughter. Me, father! I was the first to play on your knees, the first one of your children to enjoy your love and the first one to give you a child’s love. Remember, father? You used to ask me, “I wonder, my darling, will I get to see you married one day, married and settled happily in your husband’s home, your life ever blossoming, making me proud of you?” And I’d touch your chin, my father, hang from your beard, father, like I’m doing now and say, “and what about you, father, will I get to see you, father, an old man, visiting me at my house, ready for me to repay you for your hard work in raising me?” No, you don’t remember these words, father. I do but you don’t! You’ve forgotten them and so, now, you want to kill me. Please, father! Please, in the name of Pelops and of Atreus who is your father, I beg you! Please don’t do it! And I beg you also for my mother’s sake, the woman who laboured to bring me to life, the woman who is being tortured even now. I beg you, father! What does my life have to do with the marriage of Paris and Helen father? Why has their marriage brought about my death, father? Agamemnon turns away. She continues despondently. Come, then, father, turn to me and give me a final kiss. A kiss to remember you by in the underworld, since my words have not convinced you. Agamemnon does not move. She goes over to her mother and takes baby Orestes in her arms. She swings him, sadly, gently back and forth and leans over him as she speaks to him What a weak little helper you are, my tiny brother! Won’t you cry with me, Orestes? Come on, won’t you beg your father not to kill your big sister? Come on, Orestes, even babies know when there’s trouble around! Ha! See, father? Orestes is begging you, too! Begging you by his silence. Do you not care about me any more? Spare my young life, father. Spare me! Here! Look here, father! Here are the two of us, one’s a baby, the other a grown up girl, a brother and a sister, both your children, begging you, by your beard, pleading with you… She turns and looks sadly around her, then up at the sun. That! Up there is my final argument. That light, this light all around us, will cut all other arguments to pieces. This light is the sweetest thing that can fill the eyes! The world beneath the earth is a world of nothing. Only fools would pray to go down there. I’d rather live a life full of misery than die a hero’s death!

If that doesn’t make you cry I don’t know what will. And then to top it off he follows it up 200 lines later this this tear jerker:

“C- What report shall I give to your sisters?

I-Do not dress them either in black garments.

C-Is there any word of love from you I should give the girls?

I-Bid them farewell; and make sure you bring up Orestes as a man!

C-You look at him for the last time- hold him tight!

I-(holding Orestes close): Darling boy, you helped you dear sister as much as you could!

…

I-Who will come to take me there before they drag me by the hair?

C-I will be at your side…

I-No, not you- that would not be right!

C-…holding on to your clothes!

I-Mother, oblige me in this: stay here! This is the nobler course for me and for you. Let one of my father’s attendants here escort to Artemis’ meadow where I shall be sacrificed.

(Iphigenia begins to move away from a crying Clytemnestra)

C-O my child, are you going?

I-Yes, and never shall I come back.

C-You will leave your mother?

I-Yes, as you see, we do not deserve this.

C-Wait- don’t abandon me!

I-I forbid you to shed tears. (C sinks to the ground)”.

In every version you read, however, sacrificing his daughter is not a choice that Agamemnon takes lightly. He is torn between sacrificing his daughter and angering his wife- but winning glory for the Greeks, or saving his daughter, but abandoning his men. As a father, he made the wrong choice, but as a king some would argue that he did what was expected of him.

I do like, however, in Euripides’ version the character of Achilles. He is adamant that he will not be privy to the murder of Iphigenia. He tries so very hard to save her and to offer comfort to Clytemnestra and genuinely I think that this might be one of the loveliest most favourable depictions of him.

This myth then gives way to part of the Oresteia trilogy and many many retellings of her Iphigenia’s story- every single one of which always make me want to cry. I can’t explain what it is- I know that the whole point of tragedy is that build up and release of emotion but no tragedy has every made me actually sad other than Iphigenia at Aulis.

Anyways, you can imagine my absolute horror when I watched S5 EP9 and saw Shireen tied to the alter, literally gave myself whiplash with how quickly I tried to look away from the screen.

I would say I hope you enjoyed reading about Iphigenia, but if you did you’re an absolute psycho! The two translations I used are from PoetryInTranlsation and Penguin’s 2005 edition “The Bacchae and Other Plays”. Hopefully, now that I’ve posted again I’ll try and be more regular with it and I hope you all have a lovely lovely week <33

~Z

[pinkkittysaw]

MY STAR

paring: clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: in a fit of restlessness one night, you come to clive’s aid

word count: 2k

content: (18+ only please!) established relationship, sex is mentioned but not in detail, a smidgen of angst, selfship coded heh heh heh um (//∇//)

a/n: was toying around with the idea of singing clive to sleep but couldn’t figure out a concept for it. the concept is so intimate and romantic to meeee :) THERE’S NO DENYING THE LOVER GIRL ALLEGATIONS!!!! i listened to this song from the soundtrack and- clive and i make sweet sexy love to this every night ummmm anyway, the song is what the title is based on ^_^ be careful looking it up on youtube though cause there are in game spoilers. the song made me bawl and continues to do so. square enix we have some words to exchange!!!!

dividers by @/saradika

It's a calm evening, a slight breeze passes through your bedroom. The stars shine brightly outside, while remnants of burning embers flicker inside the fireplace.

You and Clive are in bed, sweaty, and spent after an intense love-making session. He’s on his side, facing away from you, while you're on your back, sprawled out as far as you can next to his huge form.

The moonlight peaks through the gaps in the wall, reflecting off the love bites left on the peaks of your breasts, and if the sheet that was covering your waist was pulled any lower, a matching set of marks would be found on your inner thighs. A familiar ache lingers between them, but the feeling is a welcomed one. 

Clive isn't faring any better. A set of scratch marks line the hard muscle of his back, followed by divot marks from your nails on his shoulders and a few haphazard love bites of his own, scattered throughout his chest where you often displayed your affections.

You’re resting in a peaceful slumber before being roused awake by your lover tossing and turning in bed. He huffs, unable to find a comfortable position, settling to face you once more, admiring the peaceful expression on your face.

Though you don’t open your eyes, your voice cuts through the open air. "Can’t sleep?"

You can’t see his face, but you can hear the frown forming on his features when he speaks. "I didn’t mean to wake you," he states, bringing a hand out to caress the skin below your rib.

"It’s alright," you reassure him, turning to your side so you'd both be facing each other. Your eyes are open now, and even though you can't quite make out his expression amongst the darkness, you reach out to him anyway. "Want me to sing to you?"

The first time Clive heard you sing was in the infirmary. He'd been confined there on Tarja's authority after returning with a severe injury from one of his outings.

You had developed a close friendship at that point. After being sent on numerous assignments together, you had grown a fondness for each other, though the lines of your relationship grew blurrier each day.

It was late in the evening when you returned, the moon taking its rightful place amidst the stars. You had scurried over to the infirmary, practically begging Tarja on your hands and knees to let you see Clive after having not been able to visit during the day. She took one look at your pitiful state, and with a heavy sigh, she caved, giving you permission on the premise that you wouldn't disturb the other patients. You nodded enthusiastically in agreement before turning and opening the door to the infirmary.

A few bearers were scattered amongst the rows of beds, with Clive all the way on the other side of the room, closest to the window. You skittered across the room to his bed, taking care not to disturb the others. Kneeling by his side, you make note of his condition. He'd been heavily sedated due to the severity of his injury, fading in and out of consciousness. You couldn't tell when he was awake and when he wasn't.

Taking hold of his hand, you press his knuckles to your lips. "Please be alright," you whisper, clasping his hand in between your own. Bringing your interwoven hands to your forehead, you recite a silent prayer in hopes of his recovery. You were able to maintain some semblance of faith; he was stronger than any other man you knew after all, but seeing him here, like this, in such a fragile state, you wavered. Calling upon the gods to keep him safe from harm, to let you hear his voice once more, and for him to live another day.

You lay his hand back down on the bed once you've finished before recounting your day. "Sorry, I'm so late today," you whisper, "I was sent out early this morning for resource hunting. It was laborious and boring as always."

"I wish you were there. You always make even the blandest of assignments more tolerable," you smile down at him, both your silhouettes bathed in moonlight. "Torgal kept me company, though, so I wasn't too lonely."

The exhaustion from the day's work catches up with you, a yawn escaping you in the midst of your tale. "I guess I should get some rest then."

"I'll visit you again in the morning."

You get up to leave when Clive becomes restless in his sleep, discomfort etching itself across his face. His hand twitches around yours, tightening his grasp. You're quick to kneel beside him once more. "Shhhhh, it's alright," you murmur, "I'm right here."

Against your better judgment, you climb into bed with him, both of your bodies smushed together on the small mattress. Making sure to keep your voice low, you sang him a lullaby from your childhood, one that your mother would use to ward off bad dreams in the night. When the song ends, you decide to stay by his side and watch over him.

It's early the next day when Tarja finds you and Clive curled up together. She smirks to herself, shaking her head in amusement before starting her morning rounds.

The first time you sing him to sleep occurs shortly after you first start seeing each other.

He was fidgeting, panting, and shivering in his sleep, tossing and turning, trying to escape the terror of his dreams. You were beside him in bed, his movements disrupting your sleep. You peer over at him, checking on the commotion. Seeing his state, you reach out and caress his shoulder, shaking him slightly. It takes a while, but he finally awakens with a sharp inhale, as if he's been starved of air. He sits up wide-eyed, taking in his surroundings, sweat covering his brow as he heaves for oxygen. You reach up from your position on the bed to stroke his back delicately, the muscles continuing to rise and fall under your ministrations.

"Are you alright?" you mumble against the pillows.

He gives a short nod in response: "It was just a bad dream, nothing you need concern yourself with."

You let out a simple "hm" before opening your arms up for him to crawl into. "Come," you beckon. Despite his earlier reluctance, he does little to resist your request, all hesitance melting from his body as he falls into the comfort of your loving embrace. His head comes to rest on your shoulder, and strands of inky black hair tickle your face. Your hand strokes up and down on his shoulder while cocooned in the silence of night.

He's already dozing off when you begin singing. Your voice soft and raspy due to the sleep that's still present. He's cradled in the sea of your warm, dulcet tones, similar to the night spent in the infirmary many moons ago. 

The two of you had fallen into a little routine. Though less frequent since the two of you got together, Clive had been plagued with nightmares, sometimes so terrifying that he'd go nights without sleeping. He'd do anything to forget that dreadful night—anything to forget the look on his brother's face as he was torn apart by the dark eikon right in front of his very eyes.

His eyes flit over your form in the present, the scattered beams of moonlight illuminating your features. He feels a pang of guilt whenever he needs your comfort to sleep. The more he takes in your love, the more selfish he feels for doing so, as if allowing himself to indulge himself in the warmth you provide is somehow a sin. He cups the side of your face as his thumb strokes your cheek. "You don't have to, love."

"That wasn't what I asked, was it?" You tease, poking the tip of his nose before attempting to pull him closer. "Come, lay against me." Though he hesitates for a moment, he ultimately relents, unable to deny himself of you.

He rests his head on your breast, placing a few miscellaneous kisses on the lightly bruised skin, his hand caressing the soft flesh of your hip.

"I have a new song for you tonight,"

"Oh really?"

"Mhm, I kept this one close to my heart, but since you're so special to me, I've decided to share it with you as well."

"I'm honored," he mumbles, closing his eyes to fully rest against you.

Most of the songs you knew were ones you learned from other bearers during your time in the hideaway, save for the lullaby your mother sang to you as a young girl, but there was another song, one that always brought so much emotion out of you whenever you sang it. It was one from your home village, and you were blessed to have heard its enchanting lyrics performed by your mother before everything turned to ruin. Your home overrun by blight.

Starlight, say goodnight

Star bright, where have you fallen?

Starlight, say goodnight

Star bright, I hear you calling

Fire, a fire that filled the night

Fire that warmed-

You take his hand in yours and turn it so that his palm faces upward; Ifrit's flame set ablaze from his flesh. It's small while flickering in the breeze, illuminating you both with its warm glow. The flame is not too dissimilar to the one he's managed to set in your heart.

-and brightened my life

The flame is extinguished as you slide your hand up his forearm and into his palm, interlocking your fingers. The lingering warmth from his skin seeps into yours.

My guiding light, On high, my hearth, my beacon, and my hope

Clive flushes at this point, realizing that he's the subject of this song. He's the flame, the guiding light, the beacon of hope, and for once, the fire that's consumed him, made a home in his body, is associated with something good—with love and tenderness instead of destruction.

He lifts himself to press a tender kiss on your lips. "I love you," he whispers from above "I love you too." You meet each other's eyes, lovesick expressions on both your faces. He cups the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. One that's more passionate than the last, pouring in all the love he has for you.

On a different night, at a different time, perhaps he'd try to argue that you were more fitting of terms like hope and guiding light, saying that you had done more for him than he'd ever be able to repay you for. Instead, he indulges himself in the softness of your lips, the gentleness of your caress, and the warmth of your skin.

He rests against you once more, fully laying himself on top of you. His back faces the ceiling as he wraps you in his embrace, protecting you as a true shield should. His cheek rests on your sternum while his eyes flutter closed.

The song picks up again after he gets comfortable, his steady breaths cascading across your skin while your hand strokes his back.

A sky of scattered tears

A thousand years apart

Should they fade, I will not be afraid of the dark

For your flame still burns inside me, deep within my heart

Showing me a new tomorrow. Never too far

And when I cannot bear the pain,

I'll look up to the sky and pray-

Tears well up in your waterline, the lyrics ultimately getting to you. You recall the night in the infirmary, holding Clive's hand, fearing for his life, praying for his safety, his health, and for the gods not to steal him away from you too soon.

Your eyes skim down to his face, noticing that he's fast asleep against you. He's relaxed and peaceful, and you're thankful, as selfish as it may be, not wanting to explain why you've suddenly become so weepy.

You whisper the final lyrics in a wobbly voice, allowing the tears to stream down your face without fear. Admiring his sleeping expression, the love you have for him swallows you whole, consuming you, knowing that he's the one who’ll hold your heart for all time.

- That though our night is over, you shall always remain

Forever my treasure

My star

[irkjournal]

A Talented Musician Struggles to Make it Big

Writing Prompt

Words to Include:

Crocodile

Anchor

Lasagna

Anthem

Fingernail

Trout

Federal

Bog

Jostle

Repel

Word Count: 900

When I told myself I was willing to work my way to the top, I never expected writing about a lasagna-eating puppet crocodile. 

Working as a music producer for a children’s TV show isn’t quite what I imagined my music career to consist of - but I convinced myself when I took the job that it would be a starting point. “Real experience”, “practicing my skills”, and “networking with producers” floated around in my head during my first few weeks on the job. Now, I am not sure what I was thinking. After years of being told by family, friends, and teachers that I was talented, years of being told by strangers watching me busking on the sidewalk that I would make it big one day, I ended up here. My saving grace is that this job will be the agent that moves me from kiddie-show producer to award-winning performer.

~~~

Much time has passed since I started working here, and every day that I walk into this building is another day that I can feel my opportunity to “make it big” lessen. The goal was to produce and perform the anthems that defined a generation, and yet everyday I am resigned to persevering through mind-numbing work. My smile I put on to continue my failed attempts at networking my way to a record deal has faded significantly. For months now, I haven’t had time to write and record my own music because the pressures of the job bogged me down.

Today started out bad, and only got worse. Despite the show’s increase in ratings, music streaming, and overall popularity - my boss didn’t even let me finish my coffee before knocking down my office door like some federal agent on a mission, ranting and raving about the “slowed increase of ratings”. As if I don’t spend every day of my life working myself to the bone for this Sesame Street knock-off.

After dealing with my boss’ clear disappointment, I was on the studio stage trying to corral the kids enough for one take of the new song. Just one. Our adult actor in a large “pirate trout” costume was being angrily jostled around by stage parents who insisted on getting their kid in the spotlight. A group of kids were competing against each other in some playground game, and a solitary kid in the corner was eating his fingernails.

At that moment, I realized how far I had strayed from where I wanted to be. My dreams were hanging on by a thread and working here was no longer my starting point, but an anchor holding me down, repelling me from my future.

So I left. Dropped my sheet music and notes where I was standing, grabbed my bag, and drove away. Amidst wandering the streets for hours, I questioned every life decision I had made up until that point. My phone buzzed several times with the directors calling. I shut my phone off and pulled to the side of the road. 

It’s not often you see a grown man bawling his eyes out on the side of the road - I imagine the other drivers enjoyed the show. Maybe after all that time working with young kids regressed me into crying like a child, but at least I got to put on at least one emotional performance.

I felt like I had lost every piece of myself. I felt my dreams of being a successful musician slipping away. My passion, fading before my eyes.

As I sat there, tears finally drying on my face, an epiphany came to me. I felt myself become possessed with a creative fever and began to write down everything I was dealing with. Even though my passions had dwindled recently, the habit of always carrying a pen and paper gave me hope that I hadn’t completely lost my determination to achieve my dreams.

I wrote down a few lines and notes started playing in my head.

Luckily, there were no cops on my way home. My speed would have definitely landed me a spot in jail. But when the idea hits, acting on it is the only choice.

Now, hours later I have worked out a general plan and have finally stopped to take a breath. Looking over the lyrics and sheet music, I feel that this is some of my best work. The type of work that will finally get me noticed, the type of work that doesn’t let my talents go to waste. 

~~~

“So tell me, after all of the awards, the world tours, millions of albums sold, and a long, illustrious music career - to what do you owe your success?”

I thought for a moment before answering the question. I had studied and trained for years, continued writing and working to “perfect” my craft. But whenever I reflect on my life, I go back to that day I walked off that horrid job.

The pain and stress of that job taught me the skills I needed to help me with my current career. Hard work, patience, adaptability. My breakdown that day was the best thing to ever happen to me, and if given the chance I would do it all over again.

I let my bright smile shine and I answered, “A really bad day at work.”

[disclosed-spire]

fun fact: if you look at the online map for rubicon and go to the iterator area, it forms a giant tree with the chamber in the center

Yea, iterators in a giant treehouse. Moon n Pebbles live in a giant treehouse :)

Side note semi related:

When I was in Rubicon, and I got to the last bit where the OST song: The Cycle started playing (The base of the tree bit, which got more intense as you climbed up), I started bawling. Saint managed to make me start crying, which is the first time I've cried over a video game.

Spearmaster's campaign ending was close, but Saint was the one that made me cry multiple times fhfjhhhfnfb.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

just watched RtC in-person, which brought back my hyperfixation SO!!

SPIRITFARER AU!!!!

instead of waking up in the warehouse purgatory, Ocean wakes up in a tiny dinghy, drifting in the sea before a giant doorway. the Everdoor.

here, Karnak appears to her and tells her that she is to be a Spiritfarer, a guide and guardian to a group of spirits. her job is to help them with their unfinished business so they can move on.

the spirits she’s meant to guide? her choir, who all died with her in a freak rollercoaster accident that sent them into the spirit world in the first place.

except…they’re all in the bodies of anthropomorphic animals?

Constance- otter

Mischa- bear

Noel- fox

Ricky- Pallas cat

Jane Doe- doe

her job? help them fulfill their dreams and aspirations.

…which includes making a hit rap song, helping someone become the greatest stripper in all of the spirit world, gather a pack of sexy cat women from space, and find a girl’s head.

Ocean has her work cut out for her.

also Virgil is a rat (an actual rat) who accompanies her throughout the whole thing

[ruayiri]

Genshin imagine/blurb whatever

Tw: mentions of mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

After 18 years of consciousness, of which you can only recall like 8, you've come to the conclusion, You'll never be enough, not for this generation, not for your family, not for anyone.

Living in the Akademiya dorms, you know all about the illegal hand exchanges of some very illegal drugs. Students in your darshan in particular are heavy consumers. Although you've never seen it up close, or know what it's like, you've heard it's the best thing ever. A friend of a friend even called it oral diamorphine. You've been curious but too horrified of the consequences to try it.

However studying is hard, getting good grades is hard, trying to live up to expectations is hard, everything is hard, sometimes even sitting up straight is hard. Resisting the urge to curl up and bawl your eyes out is hard, but everyone in your family dismisses it as normal. After all, everyone would be a scholar if it was that easy. So you try to keep your head up, eyes away from any and everything that might become an obstacle. Your peers call you the model student, always taking notes, up to date with assignments, top scores on tests, homework and presentations. Your teachers always look at you when asking questions in class and everyone just unanimously agreed that you're the top of the batch.

At home you parents are disappointed, A-?? Why minus??? Why not plus? You can't even do this much? You try to explain that in most subjects you can't possibly get higher than an A-, because the final grade A is 100% and some professors just don't give 100%

But no, it's because you're in bad company, you need to sit with the smart kids, the studious kids. Mom is mad because you hang out with bad company, their bringing you down. That one friend who's struggling emotionally, who has some shit going on at home, it's her fault, she's using you as a coping mechanism. Distance yourself. That other friend who's GPA isn't above 3.5, she's poisoning your mindset, distance yourself.

Why don't you have any friends? When I was your age I knew everyone and everyone knew me. Look at your siblings, he made life long friends in the Akademiya, and now they all work together.

You can't take it anymore. Midterms just ended and it's the final winter break before finals. There's two weeks before classes start again so you decided to come home. Two days you spend occupied in your hobbies, reading, knitting, playing games, just relaxing at home, at the end of the second day your mom comes up to your room frowning, Your exams are in a month why haven't you started preparing?

You sat on your bed, the door locked as you stare at the wall. There's noise in your head. Not a single coherent thought, just a jumbled mess, chaos, utter chaos. You think back on the day, you tried so hard to be happy, sang your favourite songs, did your little happy dances, daydreamed, read your favourite novels and all of that led to you hiding under your blanket, struggling to breathe, but still sure to keep quiet. You can hardly breathe properly but you still slap a hand over your mouth and heave into your palm, salty tears cascading dripping down the side of your face. It felt like someone stuffed cotton down your throat, you can't breathe, you're suffocating. There's a sharp pain in your chest, like a prick in your heart and you suddenly sit up panting, shaking like a leaf, holding onto yourself as you sniffle quietly, rocking back and forth. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, your favourite character from that novel, you favourite memory, think about your archon, she'll help you, surely this will pass. The tremors start to die down, your breathing regulates, the pain in your chest goes away and the tears suddenly dry up, leaving that bitter awful numbness.

Nothing. Now you feel absolutely nothing. Not the cold, not the pain, not the suffocation, nothing. After a few minutes of stifling silence and stillness, when you're sure it's gone, you ease up, relaxing your muscles as you lean back against your headboard. And the tears come back. Everything else is numb, just tears dripping down your cheeks and you wonder where all this pain is coming from.

You've had a spoiled childhood. Doting siblings that disciplined you into the studious kid you are. Even though you family still believes you're a non serious kid. You run your hands through your hair, wanting to rip it all out of your head, staring tiredly at the clock on your bedside. Barely a few hours before sun rise. With a sigh you turn over, laying back down, pulling your covers over your nose to go back to sleep.

You hear a soft knock on the bedroom door, rousing you out of your near sleep state. You nearly brushed it off until you hear it again, firmer and longer this time. Begrudgingly, you got out of bed and stumbled over to the door thinking it's your mom. You swing the door open and the next moment, you're engulfed in the firmest, warmest embrace you could have ever imagined.

You forgot your fiance was staying over tonight.

Alhaitham closes the door behind you both, locking the door as he tucks an arm under your thighs, holding you against him as she easily carries you back to bed. Whispering the softest, and kindest words against your skin.

"You did so well my love," he praises, kissing your cheek as he tucks both of you under the blanket. You feel the tears from before coming back full force and he welcomes them, "You're doing your best and I'm proud of you for it,"

"My pretty girl, you work so hard, well done,"

That's all you ever wanted to hear. You curl around him like a snake, holding on for dear life as you quietly sob into his chest. Haitham brushes your hair away from your face, fishes your handkerchief out from your bedside drawer and softly cleans up the snot around your nose, booping it afterwards.

"My love, you are so strong. So strong," he whispers kissing your reddened and tender cheeks, "But you've been strong long enough, now let me take care of you,"

You forgot, you'll always be more than enough for your lover.

[tonberry-yoda]

hello! i'm not sure whether your slot is still available or not. if yes, i'd like to request a mystery date matchup for your event. if not, just ignore this!

my pronouns are she/her. i'm not sure about myself, but i'm fine with both men and women. i'd like a romantic hunter x hunter matchup ^^ about the character, ah, i don't think i'd be comfortable with illumi/silva/milluki.

i'm an... well, airhead? jsjsjs i don't know, but i often say stupid things (which i didn't even realize) which make people around me: 1. laugh, or 2. look at me with tired expression. i smile and laugh easily. i'm a carefree person. while i have my own stress, i tend to let it flow. i'm a bit slow in understanding social cues. so.. yeah! sometimes i just smile in a conversation because i don't really understand what the other is talking about.

i love literature! i also love video games and movies, especially animation movies! i just love the relationships between the characters in the movie. i can be touchy, too. i love hugs. i like holding hand.

what i want from a relationship is someone who can understand me, who i can trust and trust me back, who won't betray or cheat on me. umm well, someone i can talk to? i love talking, even if i'm not the best at it.

my dream first date is amusement park date! idk, it just sounds so fun. and we can talk a lot there!!

oh i hope this is not too long. i tried to follow your matchup rules and made it short jsjsjs but i think this is still long.

anyway! thank you so much for your time. i hope you have a nice day

notes: OMG HI!!! I am so so sorry this took so long, but thank you so much for your patience. Super sorry this didn't make it into my actual event, but it will still pretty much be the same. Thank you again for waiting this long and being so understanding <3 I really hope you enjoy :) and this wasn't long at all, it was perfect!!!

the character I match you with is...

KNUCKLE!!

he's a bit of a dummy too lmao

but he will help lead you both in the right direction lol

he doesn't mind that airheaded side tbh, he actually laughs at the stupid things you say

always know that you can go to him if anything is stressing you out, but he's glad that you have that mindset of let it flow because that's all you really can do

he will just grab you and press kisses all over your cheeks frfr

he loves watching movies with you and also loves animation

he doesnt give 2 shits if people call them kids movies because they are well written for god's sake!

also watching movies = cuddle time, so he really enjoys it

loves that you're touchy

really needs that in a relationship and will take cuddles, kisses, and hugs any day

he would NEVER cheat on you

he is so so so loyal and cries when he hides a little secret from you (like literally came to you bawling to say that he was the one to leave the light on in the car causing the battery to die and you just giggle at him and tell him it's okay)

he loves talking with you

you two could literally talk for hours omg

your fic <3

You walked into the amusement part with your hand in Knuckle's shaking one. You looked at all of the rides with awe while your boyfriend looked at them in fear. "It's going to be okay, Knuckle!" You said, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "I-I'm just a little scared," he admitted. You were the only person he would tell if he was scared of anything. "We can just ride a couple! And then we can get food and stuff!" "Alright." He eyed the rollercoaster the two of you were walking to and his heart began to pound. "You don't have to ride this if you don't want to." You told him, hugging him while you waited in line. "No, I want to... It's just... I haven't been on a rollercoaster since I was a kid." "I'll be right next to you. And don't worry, this one isn't scary at all. No loops or anything." He swallowed and took your word for it. "A-Alright." When it was your turn to get on the ride, you and Knuckle buckled in tight and you promised you would hold his hand the whole time. Sure, he screamed through the entire ride, but when you got off, you saw a dizzy smile on his face. "That was fun." He giggled, grabbing onto your arm. "Wasn't it!!!" The rest of the night went a lot like that: riding rides, eating food, playing at the arcade, but it was also a lot of sitting and just enjoying the scenery and each other's company. You two would take time just to sit and talk while watching the stars and the neon lights above. There was no one you would rather spend this time with then him.

~~~~~

pinned post @tonberry-yoda

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Mother’s Day

Summary: How the Evans and their kids treat you on Mother’s Day. These were so much fun to write and I may have gone a little over board. Anyway I hope y’all like them!

Also may have some typos since I didn’t have time to proof read it took much! (Cause ya know Mother’s Day)

Peter

-Would forget

-The kids would come and quietly walk over to his side of the bed to wake him up. (You guys have a daughter who’s 7 and a boy who’s 4). He’ll look and them with bleary eyes and they’d be like “Dad come help us.”

-And he’s like “with what?” Already tucking himself back in

-“Breakfast for mama, it’s Mother’s Day”

-“Oh shi-“ He’s ripping the sheets off and speeding out of bed with them under his arms.

- The fridge would be empty and he’d try and convince the kids to let him just buy you McDonalds breakfast but they’d start to cry cause they really wanted to make you breakfast. So he hushes them and dashes to the store picking up an instant box of pancake mix, a carton of eggs and bacon. Also gets you come flowers and a box of candy. (He paid).

- Him and the kids get started on breakfast and they are better at it then he is. Your daughter knows how to flip the pancakes perfectly while his come out all misshapen and runny.

-They honestly don’t get breakfast done till like 10. You had already woken up and walked in on them trying to pick the egg shells out of the eggs that your son cracked. And your just smile at how hard they’re working. You’d go back to bed and let them bring it to you in bed like they want and your act surprised.

- Peter pretends like he didn’t totally forget and promises to to take you and the kids out for a funny day. (It’s probably going to be the arcade.)

-But you don’t mind. You guys have fun playing all the games together. He’ll pull you aside later and tells you how much he loves you. And he thanks you for giving him the world, and tells you how much of an amazing mother you are. He also bashfully gives you this locket he bought you a while back. It’s has all of you in it.

Charles

- Your baby was only about 2 years old so Charles took care of all the Mother’s Day festivities.

- He had been taking pictures of you and y’all’s baby ever since they were born. Has a whole collection of them. So he decides to put them together into a scrapbook for you.

- He spends weeks in advance adding the pictures and writing little notes and memories alongside them. Paints his hand and his daughters and the cover is their handprints onto of one another.

- He makes you a really good southern breakfast, real hearty. (Charles is a really good cook and you can’t fight me on it).

- He walks in holding your daughters hand and treats you to breakfast in bed and tell you all about how he plans to spoil you. He bought you a real pretty sun dress and tells you he planned a picnic for you guys. He made sandwiches and cut them in the shapes of hearts.

-He takes you to the beach and your daughter has so much fun playing in the sand and laughing as the waves tickle her feet.

-As the sun starts setting he gives you your gift. It’s wrapped up all pretty like and the minute you open it you start bawling. And first he thinks you don’t like it but then he sees the loving look in your eyes and you look at all the picture and run your fingers gently over the little messages.

- You pull him close and press kisses all over his face. He sets up his camera and runs back as it snaps a picture of all of you. Once it’s developed you add it to your scrapbook.

Warren

- Wakes you up by jumping up and down on your bed with y’all’s son. Screaming at the top of their lungs Happy Mother’s Day!!!

-Drags you to the kitchen and makes a grand gesture of showing you the breakfast him and your son made. They put a table cloth on the table and they have flowers in the vase. Everything is set up really fancy.

- You try to ignore the mess of dishes in the sink and the stains that litter your counters. How did they get eggs on the ceiling? And is that blood??? You hope not.

- Warren pulls out your chair for you and you thank him. You look down at the breakfast, the toast is all burnt and the eggs have shells in them. You smile and eat what you can hoping you don’t die of food poisoning.

- He planned a self care day for you. He bought you a million different kinds of skin care products and bath products. Let’s you give him and your son skin care treatments and you guys wear them while binge watching your favorite movies. Eating popcorn and all kinds of junk food in the fort him and his son made for you. Warren pretends he hates those cheesy rom coms you like but you can see him sniffling out of the corner of your eye when the wedding scene comes on.

- After you out your son to bed you take a bath with Warren and he washes your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Has music playing in the background but was too cheap to pay for spodify premium so in the middle of you guys making out you hear click here for 30 minutes-

Luke Cooper

- You would think he would forget but he didn’t. Couldn’t cook to save his life so he went out and got you donuts from your favorite place, also buys some takeout breakfast.

- You have twins they were five and they made you cards in school. They are colored all messy but you don’t care. You kiss them both on the cheek and thank them. Luke was nervous to give you his gift, he was scared you wouldn’t like it.

- He opens up his laptop and places it down on your lap. Gets into bed and sits behind you burying his face in your neck. You press the play button the screen and a video starts playing. It starts with a shaky shot of you after you had given birth to your twins. Crying happy tears and you can hear Luke sniffling behind the camera. You laugh at the memory.

- He had made you a Mother’s Day video filled with all the videos he had taken of you and your kids over the years. Your twins has started school this year so you were still sad about them growing up.

- His video let you relive all those memories of them growing up and raising them with him. When it’s done he shyly asks if you like it.

- You turn around and there are tears streaming down your face. You say it’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten. You kiss and and your kids let out echos of ewwwww.

-Luke smiles and makes a bigger show of kissing you causing the kids to giggle and run away. He pulls away and looks at you. “Do you know how much I love you?” He asks

-Not more than I love you you answer and you guys spent the rest of the morning trying to say who loves who more.

Colin Zabel

- Spoils you the most out of all of them.

- It’s y’all’s first Mother’s Day and he wants it to be perfect. Spends all week running a round town trying to get everything and make sure everything is absolutely perfect.

- You wake up the smell of something heavenly coming from the kitchen. You see him cooking in the kitchen holding your daughter in his arms. He dances with her as he cooks, singing to her in a soft voice.

- He whines when he sees you, he wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed

- You guys finish making breakfast together, singing along to the songs on the radio. He asks you to dance with him and you do. You guys sway with one another your daughter squished between you two giggling.

- The whole house is filled with flowers, every table has a bouquet, you’re pretty sure he bought all the flowers in Easttown.

- Has a whole day planned. Filled with the sweetest activities, like a carriage ride through the park and a cake making class.

- You make the cutest little Mother’s Day cake decorated with flowers and all these little details. And you glance over at him and his cake is all lopsided and the icing is smeared all over his cake. His has icing on his nose and leans over to swipe some on your cheek. You guys get kicked out for making a mess but you don’t care.

- You guys spend all day walking around town hand in hand, Colin has your daughter in one of those baby carriers strapped to his chest. He bought you and her matching dresses for the occasion.

- He finishes the day with taking you the the station claiming he has work to finish. You guys go up the stairs and it’s decorated head to toe with balloons and streamers and pictures of you and him and your daughter. You start crying right then and there wondering how a man could be that sweet.

- Mare offers to take your baby for the night so you guys can spend some time alone. Being new parents you haven’t had much of it. He spends all night dancing with you and just talking as you eat the dinner he cooked.

- He gives you a necklace he had made that had your daughters fingerprint on it. It also has a message and his and her name inscribed on the back. He puts it on you and you guys just sit in one another’s arms. Looking at the setting sun, wondering how you guys were lucky enough to have gotten everything you could have ever wanted.

[bokubonk]

the only certainty

warnings: angst, insecurities

content: hurt/comfort, angst, insecurities

characters: timeskip!Atsumu x reader

date: 2/11/21

word count: 1.4k+

notes: Okay so I know I said I wouldn’t be posting as much but I ended up coming with a ton of ideas so expect more updates soon lol. Also I just wanna know who tf hurt me because these ideas can’t be coming from nowhere. I’m really out here bawling while I write. Anyway, enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears :) 

You shifted on the couch, pulling the thin blanket up to your chest. 

Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered what Atsumu said to you two days ago. The MSBY Black Jackals had a match against another team and you came to watch. 

You first met at one of his matches in high school and he began relentlessly pursuing you after spotting you in the crowd. Although you were determined to focus on school, you slowly began falling for him after seeing his passion towards volleyball and the kindness he showed you. 

Since the two of you met, you made an effort to go to all of his matches. After all, you wanted to support him and you knew how much volleyball meant to him. 

But, you were always bothered by how many girls were around him and how he seemed to thrive off of their attention. You mentioned it to him multiple times and he always reassured you that you were the only one for him. You would answer his reassurances with a smile that never seemed to reach your eyes because no matter how many times he assured you, it seemed like there was someone out there that was just better, prettier, smarter.

It was bad enough that you started off the day feeling insecure after you overheard Rina, one of his fangirls, talking about your relationship before the match and saying how Atsumu would be better suited with her. You glanced at her and her smile, noticing how tall she was, how confident, how different she was from you.

You only felt worse after seeing her walk up to him once the team won the match, and instead of finding you in the audience like he always did, he smiled at her. 

You watched from the sidelines, feeling your heart ache the longer he talked with her and your thoughts began to spiral. You couldn’t help but wonder why he chose you in the first place when it was clear he was better suited with girls like her. 

But you decided to say nothing, plastering on a weak smile and murmuring a quiet “congratulations” when he finally broke away from his conversation with Rina and approached you. 

Atsumu rambled on about the match as the two of you made your way out of the arena with the rest of the team and you could see that he was truly proud of how he played with the huge grin splitting his face. You felt your lips curling into a smile as you stared at him but your silence didn’t go unnoticed and he paused, his grin slipping from his face.

“What’s wrong?” his eyebrows furrowed, searching your face for any indication of what had happened. “Did someone say something?”

“It’s really nothing,” you shrugged, trying to muster up the strength to continue smiling to assure him you were okay but he cupped your cheek, leaning down to stare you in the eyes.

“C’mon, just tell me,” he frowned.

“It’s just-,” you started, biting your lip as your uncertainties began growing once again, “After the game, Rina went up to you and the two of you just looked so good together.”

Atsumu was expecting a real reason as to why you were upset but instead he got another one of your unnecessary insecurities and he just wasn’t in the mood after winning the match he had practiced so hard for. His hand dropped from your face and he ran it through his hair. “Stop making a big deal out of nothing. How many times do I have to tell you for you to get it in your head.”

You swallowed back your hurt and opened your mouth to change the topic but he rolled his eyes, “Why do you have to be so insecure? It’s not like I’m dating her.”

Atsumu waited for you to respond but when you answered with your silence, he sighed, “Look, can we stop talking about this? We just won and discussing how insecure you are is only going to ruin the mood.”

“Oh, um, okay,” you murmured, fixing your gaze onto your feet and blinking back your tears.

“Are you coming with us to celebrate?” he asked, not looking back while you trailed behind him and the rest of the team. 

“I’m not feeling too well so I think I’ll just go home,” you whispered.

“Whatever,” he muttered, too caught up in his own thoughts to realize just how much he hurt you. 

You went to bed alone that night, burying your face into your pillow to muffle your sobs. By the time you realized how late it was, you saw that it was 2:00 a.m. and he had yet to come home. 

For a moment, you wondered if he was out with someone other than the team but you quickly pushed the thought out of your mind once you felt your chest ache again. 

Thoughts of whether he still loved you consumed you and you felt the overwhelming pressure to do better and be better but you knew at the end of the day, it would never be enough. 

At the end of the day, you weren’t enough. 

You left the apartment early the next morning, wondering where Atsumu had stayed if he hadn’t come home to you. But you forced yourself to focus on your job, pushing all of your anxiety out of your mind, only to come home to an empty apartment. 

With a heavy heart you got ready for bed and set up a place to sleep on the couch, knowing that if he didn’t come home yesterday, it was most likely because he was drunk and stayed at a friend’s place and would be coming home today.

You laid there, waiting for the familiar jangle of his keys and pondered whether you were making the right decision. But when he opened the door and walked right past you, you knew there was nothing left to be done. 

“Hey, Atsumu.”

His eyes widened at your use of his name and he froze in place. You never called him by his name unless it was something serious and from how swollen your eyes were, he knew it was something you had spent hours crying over.

You took a breath, trying to keep your voice as even as possible, “I think we should break up.”

Atsumu stared at you, shocked. He didn’t expect you to want to break up with him but when he recalled the harsh words he exchanged with you after the match, he winced. He never wanted to hurt you and he opened his mouth to apologize but you began speaking, your chin quivering as you struggled to stop the tears from escaping.

“You deserve better than me,” your voice trembled. “I’m just going to bring you down with my insecurities and I don’t want that.”

You took a moment to compose yourself before continuing, “You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

“Baby, no,” Atsumu cried, shaking his head. “No, don’t say that.”

“It’s my fault. I’ll do better just tell me you don’t mean that.”

You choked on a sob, unable to bear the desperation in his gaze. He rarely cried and in the moments that he did, you always tried your best to comfort him. But now, you weren’t sure you were the right person to be wiping away his tears.

“Please, I’m sorry. I love you,” he whispered, walking over to the couch and grabbing your hands in his. “You’re it for me. There’s no one else that could ever compare.”

You stared down at your intertwined hands, “Are you sure? What if choosing me is a mistake.”

Atsumu’s heart clenched at your words. He hated himself for never realizing just how unloved you felt. How did he never notice how much you were hurting?  How much had you been holding back from him because you were afraid of making him unhappy?

“You’re the only certainty in my life,” Atsumu murmured, his gaze softening as you began tearing up again. 

“Well, you and volleyball,” he joked, making you smile. 

“I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you so you never feel this way again,” he vowed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

You leaned into his embrace and whispered a quiet “I love you” back. 

You knew the road ahead would be far from perfect but you didn’t mind. Because as long as Atsumu continued being by your side, you had no doubt that everything would be alright. 

[iwannawritelots]

Crying Despite Pride

Originally written September 2021

Masterlist

Genre: comfort

Ship(s): Lucifer X MC

(genderless MC)

(requested)

Trigger/content warnings: crying?

Headcanons/notes from the author: this isn’t even a year old and I was already making Lucifer cry. He should cry in game for once smh. Also I don’t think I realized when I wrote this that Lucifer’s office and bedroom are two different rooms oopsie

Brief Blurb: MC finds Lucifer crying in his bedroom.

It was late, and Simeon had walked you home from your shift at Majolish, meaning you could finally see Lucifer. You were working hard recently, wanting to sneak some of your finances into Lucifer's budget. He worked too hard and you knew the stress ate him alive. It would feel so nice to help your love out.

You hurried upstairs and into his room, unsurprised by him being hunched over his desk. However, you weren't expecting to hear sobbing. It wasn't very easy to tell, but his shoulders were shaking and the quietest bawling you had ever heard was emanating from the demon of pride himself. Carefully, you came to his side and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Lucifer?"

"M-Mm... go away..." he cried, attempting to hide his face in his hair. "I-I... u-um..."

You hushed him and carefully wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to your chest. It seemed to relax him slightly, even though he hated being cared for. It made his pride claw at him. "Hey, Luci, you should just tell me what's wrong." He shook his head and stared at his lap, tears plopping into it. "Lucifer, I won't force you, but you would feel better if you talked about it." You were careful about your language, not wanting to accidentally use the pact and force answers out of him.

There was a long pause, which was filled with his crying, before he spoke. "I-It's just really difficult, _____..." he mumbled, wiping his face. "My brothers are all dependent on me, and Diavolo expects so much of me, and n-no one else can do most of the jobs I take care of. I-I'm so stressed..." You cooed at him and ran your fingers through his hair. "Today I h-had to separate Satan and Asmodeus again, and then Beel ate the fridge, s-so I had to take care of that... and then it made me have to redo our budget because M-Mammon's credit card bills have been left unpaid... s-so they keep adding interest..."

Gently, you brushed his fringe back and kissed the top of his forehead. "Sweet Luci, I'm sorry..." you told him softly. "How long have you been crying?"

"I-I dunno... it makes me feel stupid, though..." he mumbled, nuzzling into your chest. "I just wanna cry... but it hurts..."

"C'mere, baby..." You carefully helped Lucifer to his feet, then lead him to his bed and laid down with him. You faced each other and adjusted yourself so he could hide in your neck. You played with his hair, humming a human world lullaby. "Am I helping?"

"M-Mmhm..." He was crying again, but a soft smile had graced his lips. You couldn't help but coo at his behavior, he was so precious. Although you felt guilty that the reason for his adorable demeanor was being overly stressed. "'m sorry I'm so weak..."

You hushed him. "Nonsense. You're doing so well."

The two of you laid like that for a while, and you were very glad he had confided in you. Once he was finished crying, you began to move, but realized he had passed out in your arms. Staring at him with awe, you hugged him tighter to yourself and nuzzled into his hair. This was what you were so lucky to have.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Welcome Home || Harrison Osterfield

Warnings: language I think, mentions of pregnancy, kiddos, Tommo and Haz being cute little loves, minor angst

Word Count: 2,913

Author's Note: I was so torn between this and a dad!Sam fic that I'm O B S S E S S E D with so I still might post it. This one was written a while ago, but with the magic of editing I've made it a little better haha. I hope you guys enjoy!

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Harrison's schedule made it hard to be apart. You had seen a lot of time away because he and Tom are best friends. The two of them used to always travel together and that excluded you most of the time. But with that, it was always Tom working and Harrison sitting off to the side, facetiming you until his phone literally ran down to the last percentage. But when its him that's working, and he misses his wife and his little boy, it is the hardest thing ever. Hearing him bawl over the phone because you sent him a video of your son being tickled is so so sad. When he facetimes you, he won't even look at the camera, thinking you'll react negatively to him being gone so much, your son growing up without him there most of the time. When he finally did look up, his eyes were red and he kept rubbing tears from them. 

The day he finally came back was sooner than expected. He was expected back on Friday and was back by Tuesday. At first you thought it might be an intruder creeping into your son's room but upon further inspection, you found that Harrison was the more logical explanation and finding his car parked in the driveway confirmed the suspicion. Slowly standing and blinking the sleep from your eyes, you wander down the dark hall to Jackson's room. You smile when Harrison comes into sight, his hair still parted and gelled off to the side, the body of your two year old cradled to his chest. He rocks the little one who's still asleep in his arms, Harrison's head laid over Jackson's. 

"Welcome home soldier." You say gently, Haz's head snapping up, his baby blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. His hips don't stop swaying methodically, but an exhausted smile crosses his face. Gently laying your little boy down, he takes the few strides forward, dragging you into his arms and dipping you to kiss you. You giggle into his lips, holding his broad shoulders. He stands you straight after a moment, 

"You're so cheesy." You rasp out, covering your mouth and squealing when he raises you in the air, your legs binding around his waist. He chuckles low in his throat, 

"My god I missed you so much." He growls, letting you run your fingers through his hair. You lean in to kiss his nose, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"We missed you too my love." When your son groans and whines quietly, tossing and turning in bed, Haz sets you down, eyes wandering to the little two year old, 

"If he wakes up can he come to bed with us?" He asks, like he's a second child. You shrug, stroking his shoulders over the long sleeved shirt that sticks to his muscular arms, 

"Sure." Crouching beside the bed, Harrison looks down at his little boy longingly. You remember that look as the same he had on his face the day Jackson was born. The curiosity, the fear, the love; he felt it all, mostly all at once. The way Jackson wasn't planned but you both wanted him. The way you both craved to hold this little human in your arms. And the way when this little baby was laying in Harrison's arms, he was absolutely in love all over again. And it was just the three of you for the longest time, and still. You eloped in secret, keeping it from even your closest friends and family once the stress of having a baby was over. Of course Tom was pissed he wasn't gonna be a best man, but holding Jackson overpowered that. Uncle Tom was just as in love with the little boy staring up at him as Harrison was, and when that little one started to whimper and whine, Tom was on it, calming the baby back down to a neutral temper like only he and Harrison could do. 

"You should go take a shower. I'll bring him to bed for you." You softly say, walking forward and wrapping an arm around him. He smiles, stroking the little one's cheek again as he's broken from his thoughts, 

"Yeah. I'll be right there okay?" Standing and kissing your forehead, he exits the room just as swiftly as he entered, leaving you to lean in and  kiss Jackson's forehead. He whimpers again before his eyes flutter open, blinking a few times before he frowns slightly at the sight of you before him, 

"Momma?" You smile, stroking the sandy colored locks of hair from his eyes, 

"Hi baby. Daddy's home, you wanna see him?" He's suddenly fully awake, sitting up and nodding as he holds his arms out for you. Lifting him, you carry him down the hallway, following the noise into the bathroom where Harrison is vigorously washing his hair,

"Who is that?" You quip down to your son, Harrison quickly rinsing his hair and peeking from behind the frosted glass to smile at the two of you. Jackson makes grabby hands at his father leaving you to giggle as Harrison's eyes flash in panic, 

"Daddy!" Haz swallows, 

"Ahh shoot uhm, just give me one second baby. Lemme finish my shower." You lean against the counter, pressing your lips to Jackson's temple in soft, almost non-existent kisses, 

"We can wait huh? Just stay right here?" Jackson nods, resting against your chest and tucking his thumb in his mouth. You kiss his forehead, 

"We've waited long enough now, huh lovebug?" He nods again, looking up as Harrison turns the water off. Quickly drying himself and wrapping a towel around his waist, he holds his arms out, taking the overexcited boy into them. Jackson snuggles into his father, letting Harrison kiss his hair, 

"I missed you so much buddy. I thought about you every day." You smile, rubbing Jackson's back softly as they just hold each other. Harrison follows you out into your bedroom, watching as you walk to your closet to fetch him a pair of boxers, crouching and letting him step into them before dragging them up his legs. Taking the towel, you gently ruffle his hair and toss it in the hamper, pushing him back against the bed. He practically falls onto it, cradling Jackson to his chest. He holds an arm out when you crawl in beside him, ducking under the covers and wrapping your arms around both boys when he lays Jackson between the two of you. You kiss the back of Jackson's head, finding Harrison's eyes, 

"He missed you so much." You murmur. He nods, moving hair from in front of Jackson's eyes, 

"I know. I missed the both of you so damn much." Wrapping your legs around one of his own, you sigh, rubbing his chest, 

"I love you." He smiles, leaning over your little boy to kiss your forehead, 

"I love you too. I swear to you that if I have to be gone that long you'll come okay? Just for a little bit at least. No more leaving you for that long again." You nod, closing your eyes as he kisses your cheek. He rubs your arm, humming gently to Jackson. When you open your eyes again, he glances up at me, 

"Babe?" He poses softly after a moment. You nod, reaching out to stroke his cheek, 

"Yeah?" He licks his lips and kisses Jackson's forehead, 

"Can we have another baby?" He asks. You smile, his crystal colored eyes searching your own. He sighs, looking down at Jackson, 

"I just want another one. I really want a baby girl. I just want another baby honestly." You nod, running your thumb over his cheekbone, 

“You’ve asked before silly.” You incur. He smiles when you lean in to kiss his nose, 

“And you’ve never told me yes. I just keep shootin blanks.” You giggle again, his lips trapping yours in, 

“I do want another one. I love Jax and I’m not gonna push but-” 

“Yes.” He looks up, his mouth hanging open as he looks between your eyes, 

“Yeah?” You nod, 

“I’ve been thinking about it while you were gone.” You admit. He smiles, 

“You’re amazing.” You giggle, 

“Yeah yeah, go to sleep Mr. Osterfield. All of us are exhausted.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss Jackson's forehead. He nods, rolling on his back. Lifting Jackson, he switches sides with him, laying himself between the two of you. Jackson whines, laying his head over Haz’s shoulder. Haz tsks and kisses his forehead as you drape an arm over Haz's waist, 

“I’m not goin anywhere Jax.” Snuggling into his back, you sigh, 

“I’m glad you’re home Hazzabear.” You mumble in his ear. He hums,

“Me too love, me too.” 

                                                           --- 

Harrison didn’t let the two of you out of his sight for the next few weeks. He was constantly playing with Jackson, insisting that you all be in the same room. Jackson slept in your bed for a few more days after Haz returned, Harrison holding the both of you. The only time it was just you and him was when Jackson was in his room taking a nap, Harrison having set aside this time for the two of you to focus on getting pregnant with baby number two. And around two and a half weeks later he had reshoots during the day which was when you'd discovered his wish had come true. Most times Jackson wanted to go with him which Haz quickly obliged to. One of the days Harrison had reshoots, you were terribly sick, nausea and morning sickness halting any plans you'd made. Growing excited despite the circumstances, you took four pregnancy tests and squealed and jumped around the room when all four came back positive. Quickly running to your local store, you got a few unisex onesies and pacifiers, setting up a small box with the tests and clothes you'd gotten. Nervously cleaning the kitchen, Harrison and Jackson came barreling into the house shortly after, giggling. You smile, leaning in to kiss Haz when he enters the kitchen, 

“How was it?” You ask. He nods, sitting Jackson on the island, 

“It was good. Uncle Tom stopped by so Jax was pretty happy. Got him to play some games we're normally too preoccupied to do.” He explains. You nod, Harrison leaning on the counter on his hands, bumping into the box. He glances back at it and frowned, 

“What’s this darling?” He asks inquisitively. You shrug nonchalantly, 

“I dunno… why don’t you open it, find out.” He quirks an eyebrow before turning to it and taking the lid off. Looking over the contents, it takes only a moment before his eyes widen and his head snaps back up to meet your eyes, 

"Are you serious?" You nod, 

"Found out this morning." You inform. He crumbles to his knees, pulling up your shirt as you giggle. Jackson giggles along with you, looking down at his father, 

"What doing daddy?" He poses sweetly, 

"Mummy's pregnant Jax." Harrison whispers breathlessly, running a hand over your belly. He looks up at you, his eyes sparkling in tears and a soft smile crossing his face when you pinch his chin, 

"Congrats daddy, you've got another baby on the way." He chuckles, sniffling and looking back down at your skin as if he could see the baby. You smile, stroking his hair, 

"Can I tell Uncle Tom too?" You pose. He chuckles again, 

"You'll give Uncle Tom a heart attack." He murmurs. Picking your phone up, you send a quick text to Tom, telling him you'd love to have him for dinner. He replies almost immediately saying he'd love to and he'd be over in ten minutes. 

When he arrives, he hugs you, kissing your cheek and cheerily saying, "'ello darling." He turns to Jackson, lifting him into the air,

"Hey Tommy, there's something for you in that box." You chime, jutting your chin out to the same box Haz had opened. Holding Jax on his hip, Tom struts over to the box, pulling the lid off and peeking inside. Much like Harrison had, it took just a moment and a furrow in his brows for him to understand, his eyes widening as he looks up at you, 

"Jax is gonna be a big brother?" You giggle and nod, 

"You're getting another niece or nephew Uncle Tommy." He gasps, rushing forward and drawing both you and Harrison into a hug, 

"Oh my God guys, congrats!" He cheers. You giggle once more, 

"Thank you." Pulling back, he runs a hand over your belly, 

"Great, another kiddo to spoil. God Harrison, thanks mate." Tom jokes. Harrison smiles and shrugs, 

"I want a little girl." He informs. Tom tsks and cocks his head, 

"I'll steal her. I'll steal that little girl. She'll be the cutest little thing ever and I won't be able to resist her." He tells the both of you matter-of-factly. Harrison shakes his head, 

"You're not stealing my little girl." Harrison murmurs. Tom bounces Jax on his hip, 

"Just imagine it Haz, the cutest baby girl ever layin in a lil Spider-Man onesie her Uncle Tommy gave her." You smile, Harrison laying his hand over your hip, 

"You hear this guy babe?" He asks. You nod, 

"I do. I think he could sneak her out. You know how he is." You joke with a wink shot Tom's way. Tom chuckles, 

"Just saying that if you get a little girl and she ends up missing then there's no need to panic, she's with her favorite uncle." Harrison tsks again, not responding to Tom's pestering. Tom grows bored, looking down at Jax, 

"Are you gonna be a good big brother J?" He asks,, fixing the little boy's shirt. Jackson nods, playing with Tom's watch, 

"You want a little brother or a little sister?" He asks. Jax shrugs, giggling when Tom tickles him, 

"I think you'd do really good with a baby sister little man. I think you'll be a good big brother." He adds. Leaning in, you kiss Harrison's cheek, 

"I think we gotta worry about Haz here. How good of a daddy are you gonna be to a new baby?" You ask. Tom snickers, 

"I mean I can take over your family Harrison, it's no big deal." Tom jokes. Haz frowns, 

"Uhm no. This is my family." You smile, leaning into Harrison, 

"We are your family, regardless though. No matter what, Uncle Tommy is always welcome." You inform. Tom smiles, taking the step forward to wrap his arm around you. Rubbing your back, he leans in and kisses your temple, 

"Thank you love. I love your little family. Its like you're my wife and these are my kids too. You're the sweetest." He tells you. You smile up at him, crinkling your nose and laying your head over his shoulder, 

"Someone's gotta be here when times get tough. And that's the Osterfield family." Tom tsked, 

"You're the sweetest." When the potatoes behind you boiled over,you gasp and turn in their arms, both men chuckling as you pull them off the stove, 

"Why don't you guys go set the table while I finish dinner." Haz nods, leading Tom and Jax off, a steady stream of giggles and the clanking of silverware ringing through the air softly. As you dish the food up, you smile, listening to Tom growl at his nephew, making the little boy squeal,

"Need some help beautiful?" Harrison quizzes quietly, poking his head in the kitchen, 

"Yes please, can you grab these two bowls." He nodded, grabbing the two bowls and following you into the dining room. Tom looks up, smiling as you set a plate before him, 

"Technically you could've left after I told you I was pregnant." You tease. He chuckles, bouncing Jax in his lap, 

"I was invited to dinner, I'm staying for dinner." He mumbles. You smile, sitting between him and Harrison. Looking between them you smile, 

"I love my boys. All three... maybe four of them." You tell them. Tom smiles, laying his hand face up on the table. Placing your hand in his, you take Harrison's too. He smiles, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, his eyes glistening in love, 

"I'm so in love with you baby. You put up with all my shit and you put up with my best mate's shit. You married me and had my babies and I don't think I can thank you enough. It's tough, especially when I'm away, but you make coming back so much easier. I love you." Harrison lectures. Tom rubs your knuckles with his thumb when you click your tongue and reach forward to stroke Harrison's cheek, 

"I love you too baby. There's nowhere I'd rather be, no one I'd rather be with than you. You're an amazing husband and father and..." You look to Tom, "assistant." Tom smiles and nods, 

"You're amazing Haz." He concurs. You smile, watching a blush rise to his cheeks. You hold your glass up, 

"To our Harrison. A brave, strong, amazing man." Tom raised his glass, making Jax raise his sippy cup to be just like his uncle, 

"To Harrison." He kisses Jax's forehead, "and daddy huh little dude?" Jax nods, Tom chuckling. Harrison raises his own glass, 

"To my family. My gorgeous wife, my adorable little boy, my new sweet little babe... and my brother." Tom smiles, holding his glass against yours, Harrison clinking the three of them together, 

"To our family." 

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[dangermousie]

S3 ep 5

All the stuff that wasn’t long enough to make their own posts.

1. The entire show summed up in one cap.

2. Moving on...I love how Ivan is so protective of Maria. He is totally indignant at the thought Fermin is using Maria and complains to Marcos (who is all “bro, what is even the weird relationship you have with Maria?” Heh. In some sane. peaceful AU she’s a single mother and he protectively screens all her prospective boyfriends.)

3. But he has no idea how much Fermin loves and pines for Maria. (Side note - like stepdad like stepson? I still remember Ivan stealing and obsessing over Julia’s shirt during all the angst...)

The difference between Fermin and Hector was the same as between Ivan and Marcos - both the guys are great and principled and damn heroic, but Marcos and Hector will always put the cause first (though unlike the bad guys, never to the degree of dehumanizing anything in the way) and Fermin and Ivan would always put the woman they love first.

4. Darlings!!!!

The title of this ep was “Life is a dream” and underneath the horror trappings, Paula and Evelyn ponder the thought that occurs to every kid at some point - what if everything is a dream including you whole existence. It guts me that Paula’s first thought about that is maybe this is a dream and our parents are still alive and Marcos gently bursts that bubble (yet she is not wrong, is she? Not fully...)

But then when they decide they will stay in each other’s dream because they don’t want their friend to disappear. This is a small parallel of the show’s message - people who put ideals (usually twisted ones) so high as to ignore love and care and kindness are evil; our good guys have principles, have ideals, and sometimes they put them first but never to the degree of not caring about human cost; and they are driven by love.

5. Look what is on Ivan’s shirt! Like with his 1984 shirt, the makers are being cute and I love it!

6. I am not posting Marcos x Amelia make-out because it makes me ill. The older I get, the sicker I get. I get Marcos - he’s young, his whole life got destroyed and now the shards have been blown up, he liked Caro but she seems to be with Ivan - he’s desperate and lost seizing on any warmth. It’s so telling this only starts when he finds out his family was murdered and is so utterly at a nadir. But Amelia is a fucking adult! She makes me sick. SICK. I am so glad the show never went with “true love, it’s OK blah blah.” No, she was a distrurbed woman and a member of evil org (the signs she is off are from the very start; remember when Evelyn falls into a well because she’s not paying attention and she tries to get a 5 year old to hide that so she won’t be in trouble.) Because if you are amoral to sleep with a vulnerable minor, you are amoral scum game for most anything. I am so happy she was one of the body count.

7. And Caro finally breaks up with Ivan for good. I am happy she actually did the right thing (break up with current bf before trying to get a new one) but the irony of her doing it right when Marcos x Amelia mess starts (unknowingly to her.) It always made so much sense it was Caro who broke it off because Ivan was incapable of leaving since he knew what it felt like to be left. (And Ivan thinks he gets proof, once again, that he’s not enough and he’s the one who is destined to get left.) He does not love her any longer (if he ever did and it wasn’t desperation and dependency) but he can’t admit it even to himself.

You know what gets me? She reaches out to him to comfort for the very hurt she inflicted and he tells her “you cannot touch me ever again” and oooooof!!!!! And she starts bawling and he tells her to please not to cry...and I never shipped them but my heart broke for their hurt here, even if was never a grand love.

8. Julia!!!! Her taking up with her creep of a stepfather and resentment of her mother makes so much sense now - seeing the ghost of her father at the funeral (the trauma must have triggered her medium abilities) and trying to pass the message he gave to her mother but being disbelieved and treated as insane and even being committed - this story’s main characters all get disbelieved for one reason or another and it scars them (and ooof, it places Ivan’s future trust in her ability even tho he can never see any of that stuff himself into stark relief - her word is enough for him to walk into a nuclear reactor and keep walking even tho he’s facing a gun point blank, for example!)