#writing: nepenthe

[iironwreath]

Silence [Nepenthe]

[context: the gilded thorns had a brief encounter with a weakened avatar of lolth and her clerics & paladins ended up losing their powers for about two months b/c we fucked up her plans]

Nepenthe wasn’t in Dumaran when it happened, but in the aftermath, she could have imagined what it was like: a fortress falling to its knees, crying out as one.

It was like having a vital organ wrenched away from her. There was blinding, deafening pain, and no part of her was spared. Nepenthe didn’t remember falling, but she was on the ground, writhing as a scream ripped out of her throat. In almost four centuries, Nepenthe had never known agony like it.

The pain didn’t let her down gently—it rolled away from her like a stone down a cliff, picking up speed before it slowed to a halt, broken apart and smaller than before. She hadn’t passed out, but she wished she had—her nerves twitched in shock like she’d been struck by lightning. A swift death would have been kinder.

Her armour weighed twice as much, pinning her to the floor. She gulped in air, her throat raw and her lungs feeling half their size. Someone laid a hand on her arm and she struck out wildly at them, snarling.

Directed at her: “Nepenthe, Nepenthe—“ Then, aimed up: “What is happening to them?”

She wanted to tear off her armour and lay on the cool, sweet earth. Her world returned in inches. They were underground—on their way to intercept one of the Dynasty’s little contingencies that “spread the word” of the Luxon to neighbouring communities. She focused on that—how she’d planned to imbibe Lolth’s blood, revel in her might, and slaughter them for her Queen.

The blood. Lolth’s blood. She found the will to sit up, supported by one of the hobgoblins. The floor trembled as a few others ran between the people who had collapsed, including Arjun.

She fumbled for one of her vials and laid it in her shaking hand. Lolth’s blood, usually a lustrous silver, had faded to the dull, flat grey of old iron.

Its pull was gone. Wine, reduced to water.

She dropped it and tugged the cord of her holy symbol at her hip. The acid-green gemstones of the spider had lost their clarity. Rust had infected the limbs and it looked brittle enough for a child to crumple in their fist.

Her dread mounted. She tried to cast a basic spell—a cure wounds. Nothing happened. She tried another—a holy shield. Nothing. Another, this time not a spell, but spreading the fingers of her divine sense. Her awareness stayed firmly within herself. She had called into the dark and only her voice echoed back.

Nepenthe had not known true silence since she lived on the surface, before Dumaran. Even when the world around her was silent, she had always had a reliable connection to Lolth, creating music and song in her blood, waxing as Nepenthe's power grew. Without her as her bulwark, she was stumbling into empty air.

Who was she, without her?

“To Dumaran,” she growled, stroking her neck. “We’re going back to Dumaran.”

[chaoticcomposition]

"If all goes according to plan, I’ll be home for supper.”

trying to explain to your daughter how what you're doing for lolth & the children of malice might be lethal but you can't specify what it is so you have to say goodbye in case you don't come home xoxo

[nepenthean-sleep]

the soap rant

can they just make a regular soap without all the stuff in it. for the love of god. i just need soap. i have eczema and sensory processing issues. i just want to wash the grease off of my hair and not have all my skin peel off like i've been chemically burned. i don't want the fucking aloe jojoba nut cocoa butter extremely floral scent purple moisturizing volumizing soap. i just need a soap that has all the soap stuff in it and none of the other stuff. and they make it so. fucking. difficult. to find this kind of soap. they made this soap that worked for me and didn't make things worse and it was great and then they discontinued the soap. because of course. it was a niche soap. the company says "surely this is not as profitable as our other soaps, so we will stop making it." but surprise!! i use this soap!! i buy this soap in bulk!!! it has been the only soap that hasn't extremely bothered me!!! so they discontinue the soap, but they have all these other soaps, and they're like "why don't you try this similar soap. it's not the same as the other soap, but it's similar enough, right? right????" no. no. the similar enough soap says "hi i am a soap that does not have the stuff in it" and then you read the ingredients label and its like: STUFF. THERE IS STUFF IN HERE. but it is too late and the skin on your face is peeling off like ribbons and you are afraid to go out in public. so then you are like okay. okay we can't trust these soap people at the companies anymore, we need to go look for other soaps. so you look to find other soaps and its all "uncle ryleigh's 100% organic soap" and it comes in powdered lye form and it's $28 for one bottle and you can't fucking wash your hair with this. so you give up on the indie soaps and you ask your doctor. and your doctor says "here are 17 one-ounce bottles of special medical soap. surely this will not cause problems for you because it is literally only the soap molecules and nothing else." so you try it and it somehow makes your hair even greasier than you thought was ever possible. this is the opposite of what a soap should do. so you go back to the companies. you're like, companies. please. please make at least ONE soap i can use. and the companies are like. why don't you try this soap. this soap actually doesn't have any of the stuff in it. we promise we won't discontinue this soap. so you try the soap and you're like "wow thanks oh my god my skin tolerates this thank you for the soa--" and then they fucking discontinue it.

this has been my life since 2014. time is a fucking circle and i wish every company that discontinues their sensitivity-friendly products a very FUCK YOU

[chainslobber]

Dabi Flower Shop/Butcher AU fic. NSFW, mature content warnings

[alllovegoddess]

i’m finally posting some of my works on tumblr, since i just started using it again!

this one’s my favorite of the [checks] 16 fics i’ve posted since i first played yttd back in march. i think midori’s a really interesting character, and digging into his character and motivations and his own understanding of love has been extremely fun! i think he’s neat.

this fic is based off of the deleted scene where he cries over shin’s death. if i could put just one single deleted scene into the finished game, it’d easily be this one

[aurora-313]

Do you have a set update schedule, like you update black and blue one week and update nepenthe the following week and the bab again the week after that, or do you just update whenever you get something for one of them done?

Honestly, I update them when the muse strikes me. But I try to update weekly, if not fortnightly. My objective is to have a chapter ready and posted by Sunday/Monday AEST.

But as it often does, life gets in the way of intent.

Black and Blue's the main priority right now. I'm on the cusp of some very juicy bits; conversations and revelations I've wanted to write since before I wrote Chapter 1 (that I'd originally had planned as Chapter 12 and 13! Shows ya how muses can run away from you, huh?), so I'm bouncing to get at least those chapters done.

Plus with the state I've left Ichigo in? Lord have mercy, he's got a long road ahead of him.

Nepenthe is... a lesser muse, I admit. I kinda jumped into that one without really thinking and now I'm picking up the pieces. That being said, I have a lot of scenarios and ideas in my head for that one, plus I think people will like how seamlessly I integrate Ichigo into the Shiba.

I'm also working on Once More To See You Again's rework. Plus, ya know, its Christmas and I'm transitioning between jobs right now, so I've had a lot distractions keeping me from committing my time to writing.

I trust you understand. :)

Thanks for the ask, friend. :)

[familyparadox]

The Galifray audios but done as a Les Mis style musical, but even longer. Epic Musical Saga filled with pain and heartbreak.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ DEFINITIONS OF MUSIC.

fandom. formula one

pairing. charles leclerc x professional pianist fem!reader (fc: none)

about. y/n y/l/n is one of the celebreties who has gone viral during lockdown. when she publishes her first album, she raises a few eyebrows with a featured artist

content warnings. social media au, not edited/proofread

notes. this is a very self-indulgent fic... so you all better love it or else 🫵

YOURUSERNAME AND 3 OTHERS

liked by zendaya, hanszimmer and 14'083'874 others

yourusername and 3 others we're proud to announce the album DEFINITIONS. each of the 26 original composed pieces embrace the title itself, the feeling of these words. they're defined by our language and passion, a gift from us to you.

yourusername so happy our baby is finally out, thank you adrian, charles and jamie, for this partnership. i couldn't have done this without you!

hanszimmer This is music.

charles_leclerc And it's finally here! I had so much fun working on this, thank you @/yourusername for allowing me to be part of your project🥰

jamieduffyy absolutely incredible!! stream definitions now!!!

zendaya I'm sobbing over the whole alphabeth, who would've thought... this is 🤯🤯

user holyyyyy shittttttt

user 26 SONGS??? AND MOST OF THEM ARE OVER 4 MINS LONG WE'RE GETTING SPOILED FR

haileybieber listening this on repeat and still getting shivers, this is incredible work 💗

user the butterfly effect is so real here...

⤷ user if you told me i'd follow this one tiktoker because she went viral with her piano only to become a fan of men who drive in fancy circles...

⤷ user SO I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO'S NOW AN F1 FAN??

user sobbing over nepenthe on repeat

user CHARLES WITH LEMAN?? HELLO??? AND THEN ALSO PHILOCALY??? MY MAN STAND UP AND STOP WRITING LOVE LETTERS

⤷ user what.

⤷ user for the love of god, please look up what the words mean... charles really thought he was slick with this one

⤷ user oh my god.

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Y/N Y/L/N SHOCKS MUSIC WORLD WITH CLASSICAL ALBUM AND FEATURED ARTISTS! FIVE PIECES OF THE 26-PIECE ALBUM ARE IN THE INTERNATIONAL CHARTS. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT 'DEFINITIONS'.

From Viral TikToker to Record Holder, Y/n brings Classical Music back in Trend.

By Sara Ristan | Published February 24, 2024

If you know anything about music, you know the current trends. Pop and Rap is what the current generation likes, with a few outliners. From the very beginning, Y/n seemed to be one of them as well. Her first release, 'A Sailor's Wish', has been trending along with 'Solas', by her fellow artist Jamie Duffy for many weeks.

Her other composed pieces never hit the same numbers, that was until she released a full album. 'Definitions' has 26 original composed pieces, mixed with piano and full orchestra. It's an album full of masterpieces, fully deserving the high praise it has been receiving the past few days.

Every piece in the Album is named after a rare word, each one of them beginning with a letter of the Alphabet. Most of them were composed by Y/n herself, her signature moves regognizable, if you're familiar with her music. If you wish to read a full analysis of the whole album, click here.

Notable, besides the mindblowing compositions, are also the featured artists. We have Adrian Berenguer, Charles Leclerc and Jamie Duffy- each of them well known in their niche. What has raised eyebrows however, is that unlike Adrian and Jamie, Charles himself. He's an athlete, a Formula One driver in fact and very well known. While his fans knew about his releases, singles and even an album with Sofiane Pamart, no one was prepared for the partnership with Y/n.

Especially the titles of the pieces, two of them speaking about love, one is even titled as 'Leman', which means lover. Are these two trying to give us hints?

Beside that, five of the 26 pieces are currently in the charts, having already gathered millions of streams within days. Absolutely mindblowing!

click to read more

CHARLES_LECLERC

liked by yourusername, zendaya and 3'099'738 others

charles_leclerc P1 in Driver Championship Standings, P1 in International Charts, P1 in your heart... I love you, mon amour

yourusername ugh, ugly sobbing crying rn, no one talk to me

yourusername i love you too you sap

⤷ charles_leclerc Guilty hehe

⤷ charles_leclerc Doesn't stop me from loving you, cherié

⤷ yourusername i never told you to stop

jamieduffy fucking finally

zendaya @/tomholland2013 why don't you write you love songs for me??

⤷ tomholland2013 you're the one who sings?

user WE WON!!! Y/N NATION WE FUCKING WON

user if you squint you can see me fucking dead BECAUSE WTF IS THIS THEYRE ACTUALLY TOGETHER I CAN NOT IM DEAD OH MYGOOODDDDDD

⤷ user lmao felt

user now we know how charles even agreed to y/n asking for a collab... he has always been down bad for her

⤷ yourusername you're so right

⤷ user OH MY GOD???

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taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @akiraquote , @lpap , @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @namgification

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[sickuma]

Hello, this maybe kinda out of the fiction you always write. But can i ask for some doctor x reader fanfiction? Make it angst please, i will pay for my therapy bills!! 😁😁😁

PATIENT AT ROOM 224 — a Miguel O'hara fiction.

❱ The first actual request ill cover! I have a few lined up but I wanted to do this one first since I got the idea^^ tysm for the request <3 I hope this is to your liking (●'◡'●) Also if some things don't make sense, I barely know things about hospitals pardon me, I'm 15 and have yet to learn more about such gaahhh this one is pretty long!

ꜝ？ Warning. . angst! mentions of chronic illness, death, and such. ﹟paring | doctor Miguel x patient reader

➴ SYNOPSIS — You suffer from an illness without a cure, and your doctor Miguel tries hard to fasten the pace of formulating that cure. Time is not in your favor, you have one wish and it's to see the ocean for the last time. Along with your goodbyes, he revealed a confession.

NEPENTHE — (n.) An ancient Greek word, nepenthe is defined as a medicine for sorrow. It is a place, person, or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering.

It’s been four years,

Four years since the hospital became your home, four years since this became your reality. Exactly four years since you’ve been a prisoner of your own health, in constant risk of losing your life. It took a while to accept, but four years have passed, and you knew there was nothing else you can do but sit and wait for the inevitable.

A part of you never let go of that speck of hope,

Maybe you still have a chance, maybe you can still live. You want to live. Despite being quiet and accepting of your situation, the fear was undeniably there, and it grows every day. You don't want to die, you’re scared, it’s frightening. 

It seems you’re not the only one feeling that way,

In front of you stood your doctor, Miguel. He’s been in charge of you for years now, he’s been there since the very beginning. It’s starting to feel like he’s the only person you have ever since your family seldom visited. He had a nonchalant disposition, a permanent scowl on his face, and yet he feels homely.

“vitals are stable,” he spoke flatly, scribbling something on his paper. He had the glasses he wears on certain occasions, looking serious as always.

On most days he’s kept to himself, and on some rare occasions, he would speak to you. Things that aren't needed for your health, basic conversations that brought your head out of your wilting life. You appreciated that, knowing he isn't the type to converse or talk about personal topics. You always notice how his eyes look when he’d lay them on you,

Sorrowful? You’re unsure. But there’s definitely a hint of sadness in them, the type of look someone gives when they need to get something off their chest as if he needed to say something urgent. He never does. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, placing his clipboard down the table. Looking at you expectantly, his tone was gentler, softer, something his colleagues would find unusual. You smile at him like you always do, which he always found pleasant. “Just like the usual.” “No aches? How about your difficulty with breathing?”

“None.” you lie, You know it’s stupid to be lying to your own doctor but the last time you told him about it, he looked destroyed. You find out he didn't sleep a wink that week, checking the lab and giving them consistent assistance in finding the cure. Breathing isn't that hard—you've grown used to it. You didn't want to cause him that state ever again. You're aware of your condition, and you can almost predict what the future will be, there was no need to stress him out more than he already is.

He looked at you, searching for any signs of lies only for you to chuckle at him. Stifling a laugh which actually made it difficult to breathe, but that didn't matter. “I’m feeling great.”

He sighed, taking his glasses off to massage his temple. “Are you okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “Just worried.” you smile at his response, it’s nice to know someone cares enough to worry for you. But surely he’s only doing it for the sake of his job, it’s his duty to worry for you, still it felt nice.

“Do you think I’ll ever see the ocean again? I want to visit the beach, is there a chance?” you drift the subject subtly. It was your turn to look at him expectantly, for a brief moment he had a look of guilt, you know well why. “If I can, I want to see the ocean again.” 

“Soon,” he mumbles, turning away from you to open a drawer. “You just—I’ll take you there. When things get a little loose, I’ll take you to see the ocean.”

“You will?”

He was shaken, stumped but he can't let you see that. Gathering what’s left of his solace, solace which you've been providing for the last few years.  "We'll see the ocean."

"That's a promise."

The reason why he’s so gentle with you, why he sugarcoats the rough truth as much as he can, why he promises you such things, he doesn’t know why. With you he feels a sense of solace, was it when you speak? The sound of your voice? that mellow look in your eyes? What is it? Countless sleepless nights were earned simply because he tries to find the answer, no matter how much he distances himself to do his job properly and realistically,

You would always be sitting up on that bed, glancing up at him with your tired expectant eyes accompanied by the gentlest smile he has ever come across with. Before he knows it, he’s promising you a cure that probably won't be formulated until a few years. Until you’re not able to wake anymore.

“Rest up, I’ll do another test tomorrow.” “Do you really promise?” you pry, looking up at him with a smile. A genuine one.

“Yeah, I promise.”

﹐

“The patient at room 224, [name] right?” another doctor spoke from behind him, stopping him dead in his tracks, hearing your name. “Their vitals. It wasn't stable.” “You’re lying to them, Miguel.”

Miguel breathes in, turning to look at the owner of the voice. His gentle complexion faded away, replaced by his common scowl. “How long will you foolishly wait for this cure?”

"It takes years, Miguel. Centuries even, to formulate a cure, you of all people know that." the man spoke with worry, Miguel knew he was only concerned and yet he felt almost enraged.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"This isn't about opinions. That person, they're suffering. God, we need to let them rest, we have the family's wish." argued the man, he now had a frown on his face clearly unsure of Miguel’s intentions. “You’re letting their weak heart grasp on a false hope.”

"What about their wish?" he was angry, and he expressed it freely. “The family’s wish? The same family who barely visited them?”

He breathes in his frustration, he can't afford to lose his cool. Especially now that you're in a terrible state.

His colleague was silenced. Looking at him with hesitance.

"Why are you insisting so much? You're a doctor, they're your patient. You have a duty."

"That duty is to protect and keep them alive," Miguel interjects, he’s had enough of this argument, he hated it. He hated how right his colleague was, and yet he choose to be stubborn. "They want to live."

"And I'll make sure of that."

"You have never been this determined for a patient, especially when you know full well what the outcome will be." he waved his hand upwards, stressed at Miguel’s foolish antics "It's inevitable. It's a chronic illness for God's sake."

For the first time, he's stumped, he doesn't have the answer. All he knows is that he wants to keep you alive, he needs to keep you alive,

For your sake or his?

He stares at you, lying on the bed just as you've been for half of the year. Exhaustion is evident even with your sleeping form, Your life was faltering, you know it, He knows it. And yet for some reason, it's a fact he can't accept. For years of his profession, not once has he cared this much for a person.

It was more than that. 

For years of working in this hospital, not once has he been fazed over a patient's condition. No matter how heartless that sounded, he never cared to this extent.

Yet the idea of putting you down hunts him. The idea of putting you down as if you're some sort of animal without control over your own life, without a say in your own life. It taunts him,

To the point he struggles to sleep, often staying up to check up on the cure's status. Staying up worrying about the passing time,

"If I can, I want to see the ocean again."

His eyes squint in conflict, memories of your sorrowful wish passing through his mind. If he could show you the ocean, he would. If he could show you the world you missed out on, he would. You deserved it, more than anyone, you deserved everything he can give. 

He felt enraged, not because of the workload he has to push through. But for not knowing why it hurts him so much to witness you wilt, he feels confused and conflicted. The growing ache in his heart adding up to his stress,

“I'll talk to them tomorrow Miguel.” his colleague decided sternly, “ill tell them the truth and they will decide. You can watch but you can’t oppose.”

He walks away, leaving Miguel before he could even respond or disagree. Frustration surges through him though it can't compare to how helpless he felt. This was his only way of helping you, even that can get taken away, it feels like a stab in the throat. Slamming his office door shut, he sat on the chair, palming his face. “fuck.”

﹐

“What's happening here?”

Miguel spoke with a perplexed look, there were about 4 people inside your room. Papers in their hands. While you laid on the bed, signing the papers obediently, looking even weaker than the day before. “Miguel!”

You greet him with that stupid smile you always have, why were you smiling? Miguel could feel his nerves rise, seeing all the people and how they looked at him with fright.

“[name] what’s this?” he looks at you, pushing through the people to draw near you.

“They're fixing the documents for the euthanasia.”

He didn't open his mouth to speak for a few minutes, gathering enough strength and making sure he heard you correctly. “Get the hell out.”

He didn't need to repeat it, a man took the signed papers from you and everyone left the room shortly. Leaving you with an angry man who used to be the gentle Miguel who visited you daily to promise you a better life. “Why?”

He asks. He knew he was acting out of line as your doctor. But at this moment he wasn't your doctor, he was Miguel. The man who soothes your sleepless nights, the man who sticks with you even off duty, the only man who cared enough. He didn't say anything else, he simply looked at you with disappointment and sadness,

“They told me the pain only gets worse from here,” you humor a laugh. “If there's a worse pain than what i have right now, I don't think—I can only imagine what that would be like.”

“You didn't wanna die.” he interrupts, a frown evidently shown on his face. “You told me, you're scared.”

He looked almost devastated, well he is. It was obvious just from the look of his eyes, he wanted you to answer, and he wanted you to answer truthfully.

You breathe in, the smile falling soon enough. “I know, I am, I really am scared.”

“But I've been—it’s been like this for four years, how long will I trap myself in this situation? How long will I keep making myself suffer? Im just… tired. I want to live, I really do but if living means staying inside the hospital walls and consisting of lab tests, excruciating pains, and breathing difficulty, then I don't think that’s living at all.” 

He looks away, dawning on him just how selfish he sounded. Asking you why, barging in hoping to convince you otherwise. It was selfish of him. All this time he was focused on what he wanted and needed, constantly going to extents just to save you for his sake, 

He nods, “I'm sorry I just—” he paused looking back at your eyes. I really wanted you to stay he wanted to say it out loud, but he felt it was not necessary. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

His eyes widened briefly, looking at her with disbelief once again. “So soon?” his voice was weak, a fleeting look of desperation in his eyes. 

“I asked for that.” you looked away fiddling with the blankets. That’s when he noticed you weren't sitting up like you usually were, if his predictions were correct it was because your body was too weak to manage sitting up. It was once again this illness, slowly eating away your life against your will, 

He felt his heart sink deeper, feeling more affected than he ever was. He wanted to shout, he wanted to convince you to retract your signage, anything to make you stay, but that wasn't his decision to make.

It was yours, it was your right.

He won't defy you as everyone else did. If it’s truly what you wish then he would support you, no matter how heavy it feels to the heart, he’ll wholeheartedly support you like he always has. 

“Then…”

He pauses, causing you to look back at him weakly waiting for him to continue.

“I promised to take you to see the ocean right.” 

It was his turn to look away, suppressing the tears that threatened to fall. Its been decades since he last cried, yet he finds himself weak for you, refusing to let the tears fall. Not wanting you to see just how affected he was, he didn't want you to worry knowing you will. 

“Let's go see the ocean, okay? Before you go,” he had to pause every few seconds, afraid another word will cause him to break down. "Like I promised."

“Let’s go see the ocean together.”

﹐

It was almost dawn, he never left your room ever since that conversation. He stayed all day and during the night, watched you fall to sleep, rubbing the back of your hand as you doze off. He felt his heart break with every passing hour, 

Knowing that it’ll come eventually. The time he’ll have to let you go.

He watched as your calm expression fall to slumber, it was the first time he’s ever seen you so serene. You would always have this tired expression as if everything in the world pained you, for some reason he knew some parts of that was true. This life truly failed you, you deserved better.

Yet you smiled and accepted your fate. He could remember just how happy you looked when he broke the news about the ocean,

At that moment, he witnessed genuine happiness from you. It was the first time he saw your full smile, it wasn't a half smile, not a small one, it was real. And he loved it, he wanted to look at it forever, to admire it as much as he can. Perhaps that's what made this so bittersweet,

Despite his desire for you to stay, he prioritized what you wanted, what you needed.

As long as you’re happy, he's at peace.

“[name], it’s time to go,” he whispers, gently waking you up. Stuffing his keys deep into his pocket, “Let’s go see the ocean, amor.”

He didn't care about what he was saying nor what he just called you, he was just focused on fulfilling your wish. He needed to hurry before the sunrise, he wanted to watch it with you. If this would be the last sight you see before you go, he wanted it to be the most beautiful youve ever seen.

Your eyes fluttered open, greeted by Miguel picking your limp body up in his arms to carry you toward his car. He was gentle, careful not to hurt or cause you discomfort, it made your heart leap with joy and ache at the same time, 

“We’re going to see the ocean now?” you ask excitedly, a bit of rasp to your voice from the sleep. His face scrunched up, biting his lip to suppress his emotion.

“Yes,” he responds, attempting to sound just as thrilled as you are. “Yes, we are.”

The drive wasn't long, nor was it eventful. It was mostly silent, with a few remarks from you ranting about how much you loved the beach as a child and how excited you are to see it along with the sunrise. He was fulfilling two wishes of yours, you couldn't be more grateful.

On the other hand, he drove silently. Responding to your stories ever so often, occupied with his sinking heart. He was happy, truly, seeing you look so lively,

It was the most life he’s ever seen from you in your four years of seeing each other in the hospital walls. It hurts him a tad bit, how easily pleased you are, how failed you are by everything in your life.

He had to gather himself, he needs to be happy for your sake. Seeing you peer through the window with a smile, it was like your eyes were shining with excitement, it caused a bittersweet smile to his lips. “We’re here.”

The two of you were just in time, a few minutes before dawn passes with the sunrise on its way. He carefully picked you up from the car, seeing your smile from the corner of his eyes, it was the brightest, at least the brightest smile he's ever seen from you. And you smiled a lot all throughout that four years.

He felt the sand sinking his shoes as he walked with you in his arms, walking until he reached a spot he deemed perfect. “I can stand,” you eagerly spoke, looking at him expectantly.

He would've refused if this was just a normal day, but this was your last day. He wouldn't reprimand you any joy you want. With support, he drops you carefully, holding your waist and your hand on the other. Your legs trembled, they hurt but you ignored it, too busy looking ahead to even feel the excruciating pain all throughout your body. He made sure to hold and support you properly,

“It’s pretty,” you mumble, mesmerized by how the sun slowly made its way to exposure.

You looked ahead, while he looked at you. “It is.”

He knew it wouldn't be long until the tears form, so he savored the moment to admire your face before his eyes blur out with tears. “Should we sit?”

You nod, looking at him briefly before you return your gaze to the front. Taking in the breeze and the scenery, it was painful yet beautiful. You wouldn't ask for more,

“Thank you, Miguel.”

He was silent, letting you speak. “I never thought I could be this happy, but I’m really really happy. My heart could jump!” chuckling at your own words, you turned to him. Tears were evident from your eyes, he disliked it, it made his tears threaten to fall as well. “I really really am happy. Truly.”

“No,” he spoke, looking ahead this time. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for everything.”

You looked at him in confusion, letting out a short laugh. “But for four years i was just at that very bed. What did I do for you worth gratifying for?”

“Existing.” he says calmly, “thank you for existing.”

It was your turn to be quiet, looking at him and observing his expression carefully. It was the first time he outwardly showed emotions, tears brimming in his eyes. They made yours fall even more. “Thank you for existing and waking my heart.”

“Waking… your heart?”

“Yes,” he responds, with a smile. The very first time you saw his smile, it was a sight truly. A beautiful one, almost on par with the ocean and the sunrise. “Thank you for making me love again.”

His words were unexpected but you kept quiet, taking in his confession. He was pouring his heart out, calmly and painfully. It was almost confusing, yet it was beautiful.

“I loved you the moment you smiled at me. The moment you looked at me in a way only you will—I know it’s odd, I know it’s unusual but I haven't stopped loving you since.” he looked back at you, holding you in his arms as you both sat on the sand.

He had a look of hurt, but a look of acceptance mixed in with a thousand emotions he had on display “When I look at you, I don't want to look at anything else but you.”

“I want to care for you, I wanted to protect you—I wanted to save you.” he was letting himself cry. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be vulnerable “I won't ask you to return that love. Because it's yours and yours only.”

“Miguel.” you barely whispered, ignoring the pain that gnawed on your body. 

“I'll keep loving you,” “I'll love you today, ill love you tomorrow, I'll love you forever.”

You both were a crying mess and for some reason, it felt right. The serene breeze of the ocean, the light of the sunrise. It was a perfect moment, the pain was indescribable but none of you would have wanted anything else at this moment. You didn't speak, only looked at him as he does to you. Even without words he knew, the way you stared at him with tears-stained eyes, he knew you understood, he knew you heard him.

He stifles a short laugh, “It's a bit unfortunate for me but if I were to fall in love once more, I’ll choose you over and over again.”

You laid your head on his chest, letting him hold you in your last moments. Closing your eyes, pushing out the tears which didn't seem to stop,

“Until I'm nothing but a fading memory to this world, ill keep loving you even then.”

“If I was given a chance to live, I would have wanted to spend it with you like this as well.” you smile at his chest, intertwining your fingers with his. Feeling yourself falter and falter every passing moment, “There wasn't a moment where your love wasn't reciprocated, Miguel.”

He held you, tightly but gently. Tight enough to not let you go, gently enough to allow you to feel his love. Your words strike his heart in every right way, in every painful way.

“Thank you for unknowingly saving me.”

As the sun rise, the silence of the place allowed him to grieve, giving him space to accept what has passed. He stared ahead, caressing your hair gently, as you depart in his arms. Where you belonged, where you wanted to be.

It was a wonder why the skilled doctor always had a scowl on his face, who knew the patient at room 224 was all it takes to wake his sleeping heart.

this was a fun to write (●'◡'●) bandaids for everyone?

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

this is unedited!!!

[inmoonsblood]

nepenthe: (n) "that which chases away sorrow".

pre tlt-tlo. luke castellan x child of a minor god!reader. 700 words, prologue.

synopsis: time keeps slipping away. luke slips along with it. you were never important enough to care, anyway.

warnings: godly parent of the reader isn't mentioned but is specified to be a minor god. mentions of luke and reader making out, reader is said to be the eldest out of their siblings, kind of toxic situationship between luke and reader. minor book spoilers? (I haven't watched the show yet)

note: i'm writing on tumblr after almost a year and a half, this isn't that gooduprwefjod. this is just a brief intro to the possibility of a bigger series under the same reader, kinda? if it does go ahead, it will be based on the books! idk how i feel about it so far, but I'm always open to listening to feedback!

At Camp Half Blood, there remain a few things you cannot learn, no matter the amount of harsh, gruesome training you’ve gone through. 

For those who look for it, every day is a new lesson. For example, capture the flag: every game tells you more about your opponents and allies when you know how to look for it. With every game you start to notice how the  Area kids undermine the minor gods in cabin eleven, almost forgetting their existence. You notice yourself clubbed with children of another minor god, despite sharing nothing with them, you notice the way Luke’s expression goes blank and tenses up when he notices that. 

So you ask him about it late at night, away from the campfire and chaos, bodies pressed together and hips pressed against each other. He replies by biting on your bottom lip, you retaliate by pulling his hair. The next thing you know, you’re pushed up against the wall and a little over half an hour later you walk into an empty cabin eleven with a purple bruise blossoming on your neck and lips swollen red.

A corner on the room’s floor is dedicated to your siblings and yourself. and you wonder how long Luke will keep it reserved for them—for you. You wonder, will the treatment end the moment this . . . affair between you two ends? How will you explain this to your siblings then? When you finally need to deal with the jealousy that comes with being somewhat special to a counsellor.

So you learn to adapt, to take advantage of those who undermine you, and to make allies with those who understand your strength. It’s not hard getting your siblings to listen to you, after all, you are the eldest with two quests weighing down on your conscious daily, but having that achievement means little to nothing when your godly parent isn’t an Olympian. 

You sit down in the corner of the room, knees tucked in your chest and you look around. You have three siblings on your godly side, a diary hidden under Luke’s (because no one would respect your privacy, yet they wouldn’t dare breathe in Luke’s way like that) pillow containing their names, mortal addresses, mortal family’s numbers and blood types noted down.  You wonder if Camp Half Blood would have a proper funeral if any of you—not just your siblings, any of the children of the minor gods—died. Would there be a grieving period? Would someone look for you? Would they even call the families you’ve left in the mortal world or would those who care wonder what happened to you all? 

No minor god is as important as Olympians and as much as no one says it, you can feel it—you all can feel it. 

A child of Nike can win better than a child of Ares, no one gives them the credit of winning, though, it’s always beginner's luck. Camp survives on the magic and mist of Hecate and yet no one, *not one person* appreciates any of her children. Iris is responsible for most, if not all, of the communication at camp and yet no one includes her children in any conversation. Tyche and Hebe’s children are almost as joyful as the Apollo and Aphrodite campers, yet no one smiles or dances with them. The goddess of luck’s children have none here. Nemesis cradles her children, promising justice and vengeance, and Hypnos lulls his kids to sleep, ensuring no nightmares whilst they sleep, unable to do anything to the bullying when they’re up. 

Your parent is amongst these minor gods, and whilst they do care slightly more than Olympians do for their kids, you cannot help but be angry. Anger that you know will be spent on the Hermes counsellor, pushing him till he pushes you back, till you’re both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths and till your nails scratch red lines down his back, after all, it’s what you two do to each other. 

No conversation, no understanding, no labels. You two are just two teenagers angry at the world for taking their parents away. Nothing else to each other, right?

[iironwreath]

Brood [Nepenthe]

[takes place during and a bit after ‘nether’]

In the pool, Vierna’s eyelids fluttered and danced, and her lips had softly parted. Nepenthe didn’t dare touch her. She and Athalia remained kneeling, switching to balance their weight evenly on their knees in supplication. Athalia watched as closely as Nepenthe, but with an added intensity, like she could listen in if she strained her ears hard enough.

“Do you think Lolth will ask to speak with all of them?” Nepenthe asked.

Athalia didn’t glance up. “I won’t claim to know what the Spider Queen wants for our new brood. We’ll have to see.” Nepenthe thought that was the end of it, but Athalia added, “But if I had to guess, I think the answer is no.”

Vierna awoke flailing, then lunged to the side of the pool to retch. Athalia quickly snatched her hair away from her face and Nepenthe laid a hand between her shoulder blades, smoothing circles into the soaked shift. 

When the vomiting ceased, Athalia leaned by her ear. “Welcome home, sister.” 

“The bones,” Vierna coughed. “How did you get demon bones? They turn into—” Her eyes flicked to the slester between her hands. 

Athalia and Nepenthe stared at each other. Nepenthe grinned wide.

Athalia cleared her throat. “They were gifted to us by demons who are alive. Glabrezu. Sometimes others.”

Vierna gave a minuscule nod. She slumped sideways into Nepenthe, who wrapped her in her arms. 

“Grab her a blanket,” Nepenthe whispered to Athalia. “Some water, too.”

Athalia shot to her feet and hurried off.

[murdock-and-the-sea]

nepenthe · matt murdock x reader

nepenthe (n.)

something that can make you forget grief or suffering

pairing: college!matt x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. angst, feeling sick, mentions of blood tests, fear of needles, reader struggling with weight gain and body image

a/n: Self-indulgence? What is THAT? Ahahaha. Hahaha. Haaa... ಥ_ಥ Also pls excuse my rust af writing.

Divider by @firefly-graphics.

Matt was angry at himself for not noticing it sooner. But something was definitely off with you today from the start.

First, you missed your morning classes, which you never did unless you had a good reason to. You loved Criminal Law, fighting your way to the front row and took pride in the fact that everyone turned to you when they needed notes. But even after the first break, you were a no-show, so he tried calling you several times.

When you didn’t pick up, he managed to get Foggy to send you a text, asking if everything was ok. He tried not to show it, but he was getting worried, too. Which only drove home the point that this was very uncharacteristic of you. In the middle of your next class, the phone dinged with a message, apologizing and letting the both of them know you were on your way.

Not ten minutes later, in the middle of Legal Research, you awkwardly creeped in through the door, much to the vexation of the professor, who merely huffed at you for interrupting his speech. You sneaked a shy wave towards them and took the first empty seat you could find.

Foggy leaned in close, whispering to him about how pale and tired you looked; and he could feel it, too. Anxiety was practically oozing out of you, and you were drinking an awful lot of water.

“You think they're sick?” Foggy asked, but Matt wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem like you had a fever.

But he would get to the bottom of this.

After class, you tried to play it cool and brush it off. All you were willing to say was that you had a doctor’s appointment. “Just a checkup,” you reassured, and it wasn’t a lie, technically. But Matt could tell you were skidding around the truth, though he refrained from pushing you too hard.

It wasn’t until you were all walking across the campus that he reached the end of his patience. Foggy was animatedly telling you about what you missed that morning when you stumbled and fell over, almost dragging Matt down with you. He managed to grab your arm just in time, pulling you up and Foggy rushing over to your other side to help.

You really didn’t mean to. You specifically wanted to avoid telling them anything because you didn’t want to make them worry. But your stupid appointment left you lightheaded and dizzy, and it was hot and Foggy was talking and you tried to pay attention, barely hearing him over the ringing in your ears… Next thing you know, you were yanked up by Matt just in time to keep you from hitting the ground.

Foggy was ready to run for the nurse, but you managed to convince them there was no need for that, and that you just got dizzy. Matt was annoyed, you could tell. Curtly, he demanded you explain, but only after you had something to drink and layed down. Their dorms were closer and reluctantly, you let them take you to their shared room, guarding you from both sides despite your protests. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, but fighting them was pointless.

Now, you were laying on your back across Matt’s bed, eyes closed as you tried to relax and even your breathing. He sat down next to you, the bed dipping under his weight.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, sounding more hurt than angry.

You opened your eyes, heaving a big sigh as you stared up at the ceiling. “Because it was just a blood test, it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? They stabbed you three times, like a pin cushion!” Foggy exclaimed. He was sitting across the room on his own bed but you could feel his worried gaze - the both of their gazes - as if they were waiting for you to inevitably get sick again.

“They had to take different samples. It was for an insulin test.” you said meekly. Absent-mindedly, your hands brushed over one of the small bruises on your arm.

Matt furrowed his brow. This was the first time he was hearing about this, unaware of you having any medical issues. “A what?”

“A 3-point insulin resistance test. It’s like,...” you paused, groaning internally.

You really didn’t mean to burden them with this, but after your fall, you supposed they deserved an explanation. You really gave them quite a scare. “First they take a blood sample to check your blood sugar. And then you have to drink this disgusting cup filled with a lot of sugar and a little water, and then they take another blood sample after an hour, and then another after two hours have passed. To see your insulin levels.”

“Is it for…?”

“It’s to check for diabetes, and insulin resistance, yeah.”

There was a bit of silence, Matt reaching out to take your hand in his, fingertips skimming over your skin soothingly. “Is everything okay?”

“You’re not ill, are you?” Foggy asked from the other end.

Gosh, you could cry from how sweet and caring and worried they were. But it made you feel so guilty.

“I’m not. I-I think.” There were a few tears brimming in your eyes already. It was so stupid. “I just.. I’m sorry. I just struggled with my weight recently, so I went to see a doctor and-”

“Sweetheart,” Matt interrupted, in the most tender way possible. “There’s nothing wrong with your-”

“No, no, I know. I know, okay?” You pulled your hand away, instinctively wrapping your arms around your body. You could see it hurt Matt, but he didn’t force you, wanting to give you space if you needed.

It was so bloody stupid.

“I know it’s not a big deal, and that it could be worse, but I was really struggling, and I wanted to feel better about myself. And I tried paying attention to what I was eating, but it just- i-it wasn’t doing anything?”

Matt’s mind was speeding, trying to remember if you’ve ever mentioned this to him. Vaguely, he recalled how you often skipped eating together these past few weeks, claiming that you already had lunch, or politely declined the snacks they offered to share.

He didn’t think it meant anything other than you not feeling hungry, but now… if Matt was angry at himself before, now he was furious for not noticing. He was about to scold you - as gently as possible - but Foggy beat him to it.

“You didn’t start one of those crazy diets, did you?!”

At least, his exclamation brought a weak smile to your face, however fleeting. “Nah, don’t worry. I’m smarter than that, at least. I just tried to get better food, and did all the stupid things like drinking more water, and going on walks. But even after a few months, it was just-”

How could you explain it to them? It was hard to grasp, even for you. It was like your body despised you, refusing to cooperate and instead, turning against you. Like it was ignoring the rules that applied to everybody else, clinging to everything you gave it, refusing to let go.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to think about it this way, but you had so many classmates who just looked better than you. Thinner. Prettier. More natural. And it was blood-boiling how they seemingly had it all figured out, eating what they wanted and worrying about it later.

When your thoughts were getting nastier, and you felt worse about yourself than ever before, you realized that maybe you need a little help. You sought out a dietitian, who, despite your initial fears, was very understanding and patient with you. She actually listened and took notes about your family history. When you mentioned your grandmother had diabetes and thyroid gland problems, she immediately suggested taking some tests.

You didn’t want to tell Matt because you’ve only been dating for a short while, already feeling guilty for having so much baggage. Even if deep down, you knew he would support you through this. He was truly so sweet and kind, along with Foggy.

In the end, you just sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right, and the doctor seemed nice when she suggested the test. But I swear, I wasn’t starving myself.”

“You still got pretty dizzy today, yeah?” Matt asked, opening his palm and with a smile, you slid your hand back, entwining your fingers with his.

“Yeah, I don’t handle blood tests too well. I don’t like the needles.”

Foggy snorted. “This is why you should have taken us. We could have blindfolded you in the waiting room so you didn’t have to see.”

Matt burst out in laughter so unexpectedly that it was contagious and, despite still feeling a little sick, you couldn’t help but laugh yourself.

“I’m not sure that would be a good thing to do, but, thanks, Foggy.”

“We really don’t mind going with you next time, you know.” Matt offered, gently squeezing your hand. “If you want.”

It was silly that they wouldn’t support you, now that you thought of it.

“It would be nice, yeah. Sorry for not telling you about it. I didn’t even know it was going to last this long, and I had to go on an empty stomach, and couldn’t drink or eat anything in-between the samples… it was hard.”

There was a pause.

“But you did eat after it, right?” Matt asked, voice stern.

Shit.

You quickly averted your gaze from him, only to be met with the deadliest glare you have ever seen from Foggy.

Shit.

“I was in a hurry to make it to class!”

“That’s no excuse!”

“But—!”

“Sweetheart, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t thinking!”

“You have to eat something, right now.”

You groaned in defeat, grabbing Matt’s pillow and pulling it over your head.

“Fine, I’ll go grab something from the cafeteria.” Foggy said, climbing off his bed. “Matt, make sure they stay here.”

“I’m not a prisoner, Foggy!” You exclaimed, throwing the pillow in his general direction.

“Oh, you’re staying sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Once Foggy left, you promptly climbed over so you could lay your head in Matt’s lap, wrapping your arms around his waist. He chuckled, rubbing your back.

“You know we’re only doing this for you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you are both mother hens, I know.” You mumbled, pressing your face against his shirt. You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent and letting it calm you.

After a little silence, Matt brushed his fingers over your cheeks lovingly. “You really scared me today.”

“I’m sorry, Matt. I really am.”

“It’s ok, sweetheart. I’m not angry. But please,” he said, voice so low as he almost pleaded with you. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You held him a bit tighter, and you both fell to a comfortable, peaceful silence.

It was only interrupted by a knock on the door a few minutes later.

“I hope you guys are decent,” Foggy said, carefully opening the door “cause I don’t wanna drop these sandwiches.”

“Foggy!”

You couldn’t even get angry at them. Most of your guilt has evaporated when you saw how ready they were to help, and if you wanted to be truly honest with yourself, it felt good to be doted on a little.

They were more than ready to entertain you all afternoon but after eating, you still felt a little tired, so Matt walked you back to your own dorm room. You thanked him for everything they did, and of course, being the sweet guy he is, he brushed it off as nothing to worry about.

He waited until you got comfortable in bed, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead. “I will always love you, no matter what happens, angel. And if you want to feel better, or just more comfortable about yourself, I’ll be here with you through that too, okay?”

You barely managed to squeak out a reply, eyes teary but feeling so loved by him. He gave you one last, quick kiss goodbye before he left to let you rest.

[nepenthean-sleep]

i'm doing this summer english course (requirement for my minor) and i love the professor. i love the curriculum. i love the readings. i love that the course is offered online because i can't drive. the fucking workload is going to kill me. how the fuck is anyone doing a condensed english course

[the-second-sage]

❛❛ NEPENTHE ❜❜

tartaglia x f!reader

❛❛ would it be too late to say i hate your guts? ❜❜ ❛❛ no, but its too late for me to believe it ❜❜

╔⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗

NEPENTHE — noun. an ancient greek word, nepenthe is defined as a medicine for sorrow. it is a place, person, or thing which can aid in forgetting your pain and sorrow.

—

It was a perfect night, the chill of the midnight breeze blew at you as you stood in serenity. The draping of your clothing flowed behind you as you unwound, these moments of silence and peace came few and far between; you knew well enough to cherish them.

❛❛ Well, would you look who it is? ❜❜

The voice was familiar to you, it was almost to be compared to an alarm; buzzing around you. You'd always feign the annoyance however-

❛❛ Childe.❜❜

❛❛ C'mon, you know just as well as I do that you love my presence❜❜

❛❛ Sure, whatever delusions it'd take to put you to sleep at night❜❜

There was no rebuttal to your final statement as the ginger stepped forward towards the railing lining the balcony. A comfortable silence washed over the two of you as you stood there side by side. You'd always enjoy his presence, whether the pair of you interacting or not; but you'd rather be stripped of your vision than grant him the satisfaction of knowing that.

❛❛ Hey, you wanna know something?❜❜

❛❛ What? ❜❜

❛❛ The moonlight highlights your features really well, makes you looks really pretty- I mean, prettier than usual❜❜

You stood there for a few seconds, the meaning of his words sinking in. You'd felt your face heat up slightly, thanking the darkness of the late night for masking it from him.

❛❛ You sure know how to make a girl feel a little more confident, don't you ❜❜

❛❛ What can I say, its a talent❜❜

❛❛ Sure, whatever you say ❜❜

╚⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

LMAO wrote this like 5 minutes before my midterms started so this is rlly short and it sucks bit this is my return to tumblr writing

[nastylittleghouls]

Nepenthe(s)

Relationship(s): Aether/Dewdrop, Mountain/Dewdrop

Rating: Teen

Words: about 2.1k  

Summary: Lucifer is more benevolent to his children than God. Dewdrop has always been a firm believer in that. That doesn‘t make existing without his mate any easier.

Warnings: Major Character Death, grief, mentioned Drug use, religious lore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, weed-induced weirdness about pre, implied disordered eating, unintentionally funny metaphors

Notes: Special thanks to @askingforthesun for allowing me to borrow elements of their fic (also MCD, be warned, but so good. Go read! ) and general lore so I could release this little thing into the wild. Hopefully, you won’t regret letting me into your sandbox. 😉 I recommend listening to the song I used as an intro during the second half of this fic (It'll be linked there) Unbeta‘ed as usual.

AO3 link for the so-inclined

You taught me the courage of stars before you left How light carries on endlessly, even after death With shortness of breath You explained the infinite And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist I couldn't help but ask for you to say it all again I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time That the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes - Saturn- Sleeping at last (or, Dewdrop reminiscing about Aether)

Plants behaving badly: murder and mayhem is playing on the TV. The still ongoing consequence of a shared joint, Mountain lamenting the lack of variety in his collection of carnivorous plants, and a turned too serious debate about which ghoul is the most alike to any of the aforementioned plants. Mountain can‘t let shit like this go. He has to be right and he’ll present proof. 

Therefore, sometimes things that happen in the greenhouse don’t stay in the greenhouse. They occupy the common room in the ghoul wing. 

Mountain has their enormous pack blanket wrapped around them both, Dew‘s head resting partly in his armpit and halfway on a pec, his legs across Mountain‘s thighs. Mountain’s hand is absentmindedly rubbing over a weirdly raised stitch on Dew‘s knee. Courtesy of Dew taking care of rubbed-through fabric himself.  It’s actually kind of nice to feel the thread pressing into his skin. 

Dew’s only half listening to Mountain explaining why this is his favorite documentary about carnivorous plants and how it‘ll show Dew why he‘s right.  His attention is a mess on a good day. If he's not holding his guitar or praying, his memory is even worse. Now the weed does the rest to scatter his mind all over the place. 

Mountain squeezes Dew a little too hard when the sundew finally makes an appearance. It’s uncomfortable. Even so, it helps Dew to fully focus on the right now. „See? That’s you!“

Dew narrows his eyes at the screen. He still doesn’t see his point. „And I repeat, the fuck? How?“

„With your pre. It‘s like, extra thick. Little pearls all over the red tip of your dick when you get all needy. Smells and tastes delicious. It’s a ghoul mouth trap“, Mountain emphasizes with a gesture at the screen, a dopey weed-induced grin on his face, barely managing to duck his head away when Dew half-heartedly swats at him. 

„You‘re a fly then, the way you always buzz around me despite the threat of certain death, begging for a taste.“ 

A faint blush appears on Mountain‘s cheeks and his eyes drop down between Dew‘s thighs, licking his lips. Intention clear. His nostrils flare to see if he can catch that sweet scent. If Dew‘s in the mood to indulge him. 

There is- nothing.  Not a hint of arousal.   Not even Dew’s natural smokey aroma. Yet, he’s not disappointed. The fact that Dew is here with him, willingly allows himself some mundane enjoyment, already feels like so much. 

Even more so when Mountain thinks about how often Rain had gone to the cathedral to check on him throughout the last months, how Mountain had found him earlier, sleeping surprisingly peacefully in the pew after missing yet another meal. His prayer beads wrapped so tightly around his hand that the indents were still faintly shimmering on his skin now. And Mountain had had enough. He had scooped him up and carried him into the greenhouse where this whole thing had started and now; it almost feels like a usual night before their world had been tipped upside down again. Almost. 

It’s a silver lining. 

„If anything, I‘m a bee. I only go for the tasty shit and sleep with the prettiest of flowers“, he counters, so confidently with his flat chest puffing out and everything, it‘s making Dew snort. That‘s truly his earth ghoul right here.  

“I can’t tell if you’re calling me pretty or just want to fuck your plants”, Dew teases with feigned thoughtfulness, flicking his fingers against the space between Mountain‘s eyebrows. It earns him a light pinch in the thigh and a mumbled: “fuck you”.

When the earth ghoul looks up again, he expects another snarky come back but Dew sends him a look that is not quite regretful but close to it. Dew’s hand moves up to pet Mountain’s hair, using it to pull him down to peck his lips. 

„Not tonight.'' 

Those words should sound like a raincheck. What Mountain hears is an apology when there shouldn’t be one. His love for Dew is not tied to conditions like Dew sharing his body with him. Now less than ever.  He wishes he had the means to let Dew know somehow without making a big deal out of it, for the fire ghouls sake, when he feels a small red rose bloom at the bottom of his horn, coming to his aid. He nods and leans in for another peck. Turns it into a proper kiss because he can and Dew lets him.  

„Another time,“ he agrees and plucks the rose with a small wince, tucking it safely behind Dew‘s ear, “my pretty flower”. 

The gesture makes Dew frown up at Mountain, and for a split second, it seems like the next swatting is imminent. Mountain would endure that and more. What matters is that Dew knows he is loved. But doesn’t happen. Dew just settles into his side again with a huff. 

Then the narrator moves on to another plant and the moment is over. „That Butterwort is Cumulus,“ Mountain states, in a tone that indicates he expects Dew to disagree again. Instead, Dew nods, agreeably, and even adds, „Aurora too.“

As soon as the credits roll, Dew untangles himself from Mountain’s arm and the blanket and slips to his feet, brushing his lips affectionately over the earth ghoul’s hairline and the base of his horns. His smile is weary when their eyes meet again.  

„Gonna hit the hay. Night, Evergreen“.

Mountain gives him a bewildered look but eagerly meets him halfway just the same when Dew moves in for a hug. It has Mountain holding him tighter than he probably should, his face tucked into Dew’s neck. He just missed this more than he had let himself think about and it feels too soon to lose it again. 

“Night, Lilypad. Don‘t let the bed bugs bite.”

He watches Dew walk out of the common room until he‘s out of the door and almost swallowed by the shadows in the hallway, his mind still mulling Dew’s words over. No one has called him Evergreen since….

Clarity hits him like a well-aimed sobering punch in the gut. The almost overwhelming feeling of nausea follows suit. It‘s here. The moment he dreaded, they all dreaded, may happen. In hindsight, the signs were blatant.  Dew not even trying to bargain with him about leaving the cathedral, the overly sudden surge in willingness to be social for such a long period of time when Dew had been shying away from it. All that combined with the missing natural scent, the most obvious one of them all, is unmistakable. A sure sign that fire ghouls are on the verge of leaving the physical plane of existence. 

All right in front of him. The very last one left from his old pack. Eventually, he will accept it as the honor that it is. Right now, he‘s reeling. 

He gives himself a mental shove and manages to call an „I love you. Sleep well“ after Dew just before he’s out of his sight.

Then his eyes turn back to the screen. Stares at it until his vision blurs. Stricken. Chest so tight he can barely breathe. His claws pierce through the thick fabric of his self-assigned greenhouse overall he hasn’t bothered to change out of yet. It takes all of his willpower to keep himself sitting on the couch right there, to not let his selfishness win to try to stop the inevitable. It’s not his right to interfere, if he even could, as painful as it is. As it will be, for a long time.

So he just sits there, helpless in his decision. 

A weeping willow. 

Dew ghosts through the corridors of the ministry, on a whim taking the long route to pass through the Ghouls' living quarters. The urge to hear their voices before he retreats to his hideaway is stronger than usual tonight. To lock another piece of each and every one of them once more into the respective places in his heart. 

There’s a thud behind one of the closed doors, followed by Swiss’ cackling. Aeon and Aurora complain about being bullied. That exasperated yet fond sigh? Cirrus. 

Rain‘s room is quiet except for the sound of running water. It draws Dew in so he pauses, lays both palms on the wooden door, and listens for a breath, maybe two. Sends a wave of affection Rain’s way before continuing his path. 

He can still hear Sunshine’s laughter, after their caused chaos went either according to plan or wonderfully wrong, when he passes her abandoned room, as faded in his memories as it is. He gives her door a little salute, not trusting himself to linger there. Knows that Cumulus finds solace in sitting in there for a while during this hour, singing to her lost ray of light. 

Treasures, all of them. 

He takes all of them up the stone stairs into the attic with him, the soles of his shoes scruffing over the sandy surface as he recites another prayer under his breath. As if to absolve himself for his absence in the pews. The beads around his neck feel heavier with each word, making him briefly consider turning around and visiting the cathedral for a second time today but he has to admit to himself that he wouldn’t be able to get far tonight. It’s late and the call of the stars promises a little more comfort.

Rain would be thrilled at that amount of self-reflection. 

The old oil lamp he grabbed on the way flickers as he lights up an incense stick with a press of his fingerpads, setting both up on the floor in front of him. 

After, he settles comfortably into Aether‘s old armchair, right in front of the window. Hidden amongst Aether’s other belongings that he couldn’t squirrel away into his own room, the stars in the night sky welcoming him back through the glass. One brighter than the others, brighter than Sirius he likes to think, his very own guiding light. 

Watching over him. Waiting for him. 

As he recounts the constellations to himself in soothing murmurs, he traces the scar on his palm, swallowing heavily when he reaches the end before lacing his fingers together. A sad imitation of what used to be Aether’s hand engulfing his. His mind shifts to the moments he had been curled in Aether‘s lap in this very chair and played idly with his hands. Twisting his rings up and down his fingers. Tickling his palm. Relishing in their size difference, their thrumming bond, and Aether’s pleased chuffs. At times, simply lost in sharing their respective tribes’ folklore, awed at each other's way with words. At others, well…

He needs it more than ever now. That certain kind of warmth. That fullness, first and foremost in his heart. 

He yearns for it with every fiber of his infernal being. 

To be home.

Dew sinks further into the chair and a forgotten sense of calm washes over him. No longer is that sob stuck behind his sternum that burned as hot as the unshed tears in his eyes. No longer does he feel the urge to fight it when his eyes fall shut on their own accord. Slowly. Unhurried.

The strange coldness, coming from deep down inside him and radiating through his bones like an ache, starts to dissolve. Imperceptible, his charred skin lightens and his scarred gills heal from the fire damage.  A gift of appreciation by the Prince for his unwavering devotion. Not only to the seven but to his mate as well. 

Unbidden, he remembers the last time Aether prepared morning soup for him, is sure he can taste the perfection on the back of his tongue, and for once it doesn’t twist his insides into knots. 

He is too tired. So very tired and giving in feels so right like nothing has for too long. 

His star in the sky flares up fleetingly, and Dewdrop smiles softly to himself, the first real smile in what seems like an eternity, when he feels familiar, weightless hands rest lovingly on his shoulders. His head tilts instinctively towards the touch, dipping slightly into the sun-faded brocade of the chair cushion beside him. The merest hint of Aether‘s scent, and the salt of tears still lingering in the fabric, fill his nose. 

His prayers are granted at last.

Above the stars, below the flames; finally reunited. 

The affirmation of love Dew hasn‘t uttered out loud since, leaves him with a long, blissful sigh. 

„I belong to you, my starlight“

Akin to a kiss, barely there, floats a caress over Dew’s lips, making good on a promise. 

“Oh, my Firefly….I adore you”

With his mate’s awaited response, Dew’s chest falls peacefully for the last time. The last glowing ember turns gray. His soul follows Aether’s into the night.

Home. 

[kisaamisa]

❝"𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑/𝐇𝐈𝐌!"❞

synopsis ; self explanatory..you find someone other than the baki boys attractive 😍 (this one may be ooc!!)

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ; baki, jack, katsumi, sukune, retsu, hanayama

a/n ; does ANYONE know how to write/know kiyosumi katous personality because i wanna write for him but i cannot even understand his personality (i already read the manga, im a bit slow gimme some time!)😔

another a/n ; also don't ask me about this text convo (s), i can't give you an answer. enjoy! 😜

ANOTHER a/n ; y'all im slacking with the nepenthe writings but I promise ill get one out, take this as my apology 😞 don't ask me about the hanayama text, i can't help you.

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