gently wipe the sorrow off my life, i dream
scaramouche x gn!reader
summary: "you didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed." you're surprised and completely heartbroken when your lover, kunikuzushi, suddenly disappears without a trace. you think it's the end of the world, with your heart open and bleeding but soon you discover, that there is still happiness waiting for you.
tags: based on the prompt "there’ll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you", scara's real name used, modern au (from highschool to college), scara basically pulls an irminsul but why? blame dottore angst/bittersweet, [name] is very much going through it </3 title name taken from the honkai star rail song "if i can stop one heart from breaking". not proofread
notes: hi. i come back with angst! written for @thexianzhoujade's personal memoires event and truthfully i kinda hate this fic HAJAHS but this is fine i am not fine blah blah blah yippee. i forgot how to write scara so sorry if this fic is kinda ooc but yeahhh have fun enjoy !! <3 as if anyone is going to enjoy angst LMAO
“Come on, it’s just one photo and besides, we barely have pictures of us…”
“...just one, fine. Get in here.”
A part of you wished you had taken more pictures with him. Pictures from dates in the blooming parks, from hangouts with your friends after school, from spending time together at his place, something to fill up the empty photo album you found hidden in your room. You filled only a few pages, with a few pictures of you and Kunikuzushi, of you taken by your friends, of your family during holidays, pictures of you and your friends, his friends, a picture of him you took when he didn’t see– the one you considered putting in your wallet, laughing how you’d look like a spouse missing their husband.
(You counted exactly six photos of him in your album, compared to the twenty or so with others. Barely a quarter, not even a half, barely a page and a half of the album.)
You moved your fingers over one of them, the one you took after graduation– laughing with your friends, posing at the camera, tightly holding his hand, and tugging him closer, and wondered.
Did it have to end like this? If you only knew what was happening, would you somehow fix it in time?
Things were… nice, before. Being with him was nice, even if his personality sometimes made you tug at your hair in annoyance. But you found a common language and spoke in it till the very end, sharing your joy and sadness, annoyance and anger, silent tears and gentle fluttering in your chests.
When you first met Kunikuzushi in school, you had your opinions about him– he wasn’t the nicest, wasn’t talking with many other students, and seemingly valued his time alone more than with someone. You understood it, some people simply weren’t the social butterflies but it became a problem when, by some unlucky charm (at least, you thought it was unlucky then), you ended up together to work on a project. You didn’t know him and your teacher decided to pair you by herself, saying how she wanted her students to interact more with each other. It seemed like a terrible idea at first.
(You rolled your eyes, giving a look to your friend. You really didn’t entertain this idea– to do a big project with someone other than your friend? You dealt with enough shitty groupmates leaving you on read or delivered in your life, and that was for small projects! What if you got someone as shitty as them? You shuddered at the thought alone.)
But, oh, how wrong you were. You didn’t expect to befriend that guy, and yet a few months in, Kunikuzushi became your best friend, and a year later– your lover.
You remembered that love confession like yesterday; a little awkward, he jumbled over his words and you said something stupid in return, laughing awkwardly at yourself and almost getting up from that bench and marching back home. It was late, the bench in the park illuminated by the streetlight. A part of you was sure he planned for the confession to look different, yet whatever his ideal plan was, you wouldn’t exchange what you got for it.
He walked you back home, you remembered, holding your hand.
To say you were happy was an understatement. Something bloomed in your chest with every day spent together with him, the little affections between you warming your heart and cheeks, and every morning seemed… a little brighter. It wasn’t wake up, get dressed, go to school, spend majority of your day studying, sleep, anymore.
Wake up, reply to Kunikuzushi’s late night message he sent. Get dressed and don’t forget about that chain necklace with a pendant he gave you for your birthday (you were matching, of course you were matching). Go to school and spend the day with your friends, with Kunikuzushi, with his friends (although you weren’t sure if that ginger guy was really his friend, but…). Spend the rest of your day studying, texting, and sometimes hanging out if you had free time (which turned into weekly hangouts with all your friends and… sometimes, more than once a week, just you and Kunikuzushi). Text him goodnight and smile at his, although short, reply back. Sleep.
You hoped it would stay like this… for longer. For as long as possible, just living in this bliss, being happy and not alone, with people you loved and who loved you back, some even more than others.
(Selfishly, you wanted that to last forever. Forever the high school student with no worries other than passing exams and doing your homework on time. Forever with your friends, spending weekends with them, having fun and not caring about anything else. Was it selfish to want to be happy forever?)
Kunikuzushi was here with you for all your problems, even if, truthfully, he wasn’t the best at solving them, and neither he was good at words. But he was still here, offering you support and letting you talk about what annoyed you, what made you sad and sometimes, he still would try to comfort you, loudly agreeing with your complaints, (lovingly) threatening to beat someone up if they were an asshole to you, telling you to not worry. It wasn’t the end yet.
His presence alone helped you manage through harder days– it was better to be with someone after all, rather than spend your days wallowing in sadness alone, with only the walls willing to listen.
(You offered him help, too. Quietly sitting and listening to his rants about his mother, squeezing his hand and tugging him closer to you– or simply being next to him, when touch was something unwanted.)
When graduation came, in bittersweet tears you promised your friends (and Kunikuzushi, of course) to still be in touch with them, and never leave them alone just because you weren’t students from the same class anymore. That didn’t change anything, no.
The summer vacation you spent mostly with your friends, hanging out and enjoying the warm, summer weather. So many trips, so many walks with Kunikuzushi and dates– oh, that picnic you two went on one day… it started raining at one point (the weather reports lied to you, it seemed) and you only had a blanket to cover yourself from the rain. How funny it was, how much you wished you could get the chance to do it again, with him–
You sighed, closing the album. Sometime before the summer’s end, right before the start of college, you noticed… changes in Kunikuzushi’s behavior. He still was your lover, caring about you in his own ways, he still was the man you loved, but something seemed to always bug him. Something seemed to sit on his shoulders, heavy. You always asked him if he was okay because yes, yes, you noticed his worse mood, noticed all the little things he tried to hide and you were worried, really worried, and–
And yet, you never got a proper answer. Always to not worry, that nothing was wrong, and you were tired of that, maybe if you, at least this once, pressed him for answers, during that summer night you called a date–
Maybe you would know why he suddenly disappeared without a trace.
The many messages you sent, the many unanswered calls– you asked your friends around, his friends, and were greeted with radio silence in answer. You didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed.
(These flowers would never truly burn, you feared. Some would still leave, polluting your heart and making it harder to breathe.)
What was once beautiful turned into a burden, far too heavy to carry alone. There was so much stress on your plate– because what if something happened to him? What if someone did something to him, what if there was something you could do to change it? Why were you so distracted throughout the day? Why was it hard to get up in the morning, why the only thing you wanted to do was to wait at your phone, with hopes of seeing at least a single message from him? Where went your motivation to study, to do well in college as you promised yourself?
Where was he? What happened? Could you change it?
Were you at fault?
(No, of course you weren’t. You did everything in your power, but it just wasn’t enough. None of this was your fault.)
Were you alone in it?
…no, you weren’t. It felt like you were, especially at first; with new people around you, your friends offering you support but ultimately being busy, you felt alone. Terribly so, loneliness gnawing at your soul all the time, leaving the icy cold feeling in its wake.
But life forced you to get up from that pit, whether you wanted that or not. You couldn’t fail your major, not when you worked so hard to get into it in the first place. And neither you wanted to completely cut off your friends, so you started replying to their texts more. You’ve met new people, too, and made new friendships.
Things were getting back on track after, you thought that they wouldn’t. You pulled yourself up with your own strength, with your friends cheering for you from the distance, their cheers putting a smile on your face.
(Younger you thought that if you ever were to break up with Kunikuzushi, the world would simply… end. You ignored that thought creeping into your mind, waved it away, pushed it deep at the bottom of your mind. It wouldn’t happen.)
Now, as you looked at the pictures, you still felt a sharp pang in your chest. You missed him, yes, and you still thought about the days you spent together with him, but they no longer brought you back into that darkness you once experienced.
They were a bittersweet memory now. Ones, you would cherish till the end, gently putting them on the shelf with new, happy memories.
You hummed to yourself in thought, tapping at the cover of the album with your nail. Maybe instead of pondering how you should take more photos of the past, maybe you should take more of the future? Fill the album up with new photos of yourself, your friends, random things that you found pretty and worth remembering.
Your phone threw you out of the thinking, the loud noise of the ringtone filling up the room. Right, you were supposed to meet up with your friends in an hour and here you were, going through your old stuff and procrastinating the shower.
You put the album away and picked up your phone. A smile tugged at your lips hearing the overjoyed voice of your friend, telling you how excited they are to meet with you again (your last hangout was two weeks ago!) and that they already left.
You looked back at the album.
With today, you’d start filling it up with new memories of your happiness.
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Canon Characters vs OC vs x Reader
Disclaimer: This is just my two cents, and my perspective on things, and I'm not trying to lay down the law for everyone. I needed to just put this to words though, in order to sleep.
I was thinking about this because of a post I saw, and some, we'll say, kind of useless comments associated with the post. Mean-spirited stuff.
Normally, in one ear and out the other, but the vibes just kicked me off down a rabbit hole of sorts an I wanted to try to put some of my thoughts to words.
First, some style vibes:
Canon x Canon Canon/Canon stories are, to me, like reading an episode of that show. I'm sitting down in front of a TV or whatever, and I'm experiencing the story As A Viewer. I like this style because I don't really have to expend much energy and I just kind of roll with whatever's happening. Generally some sort of 3rd person perspective.
OC x canon OC/Canon stories are like being on a carnival ride. I'm sitting in a car on a roller-coaster, and maybe the OC is sitting next me. I'm experiencing the story more deeply than strictly canon stories, but my connection with the OC is no deeper than say, my connection with Katniss Everdeen when I read The Hunger Games. Sometimes 3rd person, sometimes first person.
Reader x canon Reader/Canon (or Reader x/ OC) is like putting on a VR helmet. I don't get much physical input about the "Reader OC" because I'm experiencing the story through their eyes. I don't expect the reader to be me, but there's a bigger feeling of immersion to be had. Some description might happen cause it's relevant to the story, and it's still a type of ride, I can't jump the rails on the roller coaster, after all. (Even with a VN you still follow the tracks). Sometimes first person, sometimes second person (I'm partial to 2nd person perspective, but that's just me).
I love Fan Fiction, I love it. All of it, and man even more than anything, what I love is that I'm going to dislike 80% of it. Because that 80% was written for someone who is not me. (Hell, that number's probably closer to 99% if we're looking at ALL fandoms, but I digress).
Second - The VENT:
What got me the most in the post that prompted this, was someone saying "Bring back the Mary Sue OCs!" and then they went on to describe something more detailed, and I just -
Look, respectfully, fuck you.
The point is, you're not going to be happy no matter what. Whether it's "mary sue" OCs, or x readers, or alternative universes, or a ship you don't like, you're going to find something to be unhappy about.
Cause people have been bitching about all styles of fan fiction since the first "You've Got Mail" chimed in 1991. And until 1998 and ff.net you really had to hunt for it, and until 2007 and Ao3 the idea of tagging a fic for any reason wasn't really a thing. Every click was a surprise! \o/
I just have seen the same song and dance a dozen times. It's exhausting. People become okay with OCs and decide x readers are the enemy, and before that OCs were *all* Mary Sues and cringe and people who made OCs were the enemy, and before OCs people who wrote even a little OOC were the enemy, and people who wrote AUs were the enemy, and you can write fan fic but it HAS to be Canon Compliant, and everyone MUST be in-character at all times - "They would not fucking say that" was the enemy.
Look, just please - please - in any capacity, stop it with the "All X style of story telling is crap" mindset. There's over a dozen different ways to do x readers alone. I know 20 x reader writers and I don't think any of us have the same style, preferences, or vibes.
I've had a lot of comments along the lines of "I thought I hated x readers, but I really loved this." on a few different fics I've written. Sometimes it's not the style of the fic, sometimes it's the style of the writer, and my Brother In Christ - you're going to have to read some awful shit to shuffle through the thousands of writers out there to find the vibes that resonate with you.
Ostracizing entire swathes of fan fic because you need something to be "The Enemy" so you can lift up something else, and then bitching you can't find anything new to read seems like a personal problem.
And I know y'all are scrolling by TONS of posts that don't interest you, every day, as a matter of course. So don't give me that "clogging up the tag" BS, because we deserve to be here same as anyone else in the fandom.
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So like, I have been having this weird experience analyzing the Harry Potter books lately, and please indulge me while I talk about J.K. Rowling's weird writing.
My goal was simple: read the Harry Potter books to find which parts were influenced/inspired by actual magic that people do in real life. My theory was that there was a lot more magic in the earlier drafts of the books, and that she took a lot out due to fear of backlash from America's ongoing reenactment of the Satanic Panic. For instance it's quite obvious some of their magic lessons got dumbed down so that very little of what's in the books could actually be tried in real life, and I think she took out a lot of astrology.
I also wanted to do a couple errands along the way, one of which was to check and see if it's explicitly written in the books that Harry is a cis man. I'm a trans man, SO I'D KNOW. (I'm a slow reader so all I can say for now is: the FIRST book does not explicitly state Harry is cis, but if he's trans, there's some implied worldbuilding with items like the Sorting Hat that comes into play. Also I'm fairly sure the Dursleys would have gone along with him being trans because that meant Petunia could reuse Dudley's old clothes instead of having to get girl stuff. I'mma save any other explanations on the topic for a video on it.) The reason I'm doing this read-through is because I think J.K. doesn't know anything about trans people and didn't think to make sure her wizard world was trans exclusionary. AND IT TURNS OUT THAT WE TRANS MAGIC USERS HAVE A WAY OF WIGGLING INTO MOST PLACES UNDETECTED BY NORMAL MEANS.
While I was doing the re-read I encountered two sort of broad revelations:
There's a lot of old stuff in there like Latin and Greek and tradcraft stuff, but also modern magic of the more recent era... but the incorporation of modern magic cuts off somewhere before the 80s. These books read like they were written by a early 70s magician. Like they honestly read like J.K. is a magical practicioner who just didn't read any magic books written after 1972 and never discovered what Chaos Magic is, (and also, never heard of most of what happened in the Cold War). I have never found a writer, in fiction or non-fiction, more dedicated to referencing magical stuff that most magicians alive today just don't care about anymore.
J.K. Rowling's knowledge of child abuse laws and general social mores regarding treatment of children also ceased to update itself by about the 80s. I keep getting distracted by this and having to make more side-notes about corporal punishment and researching stuff like when caning was banned in England. (HInt: it was banned before Harry went to school, so in Book 1 it's fuckin weird that he assumes that Wood is the name of a cane he's about to be whipped with.) Like, this woman raised children in the modern era, she should know when canes stopped being used.
So like, when I mention that I'm doing some research in this area, this is the sort of stuff I'm reading for and the sort of stuff I'm encountering. I haven't been talking much about this journey because it seems like any time anyone brings up anything Harry Potter up whatsoever, we've got to talk about how J.K. is a terf in every other sentence. But like, y'all: I hope you slow down and re-read the books, because J.K. Rowling is a terf who is also a child abuse apologist and normalizer. She is a terf who is also a horrible fat-shamer. She is a terf who is also an ableist with a huge problem writing about mental illness. And she's a terf who's also a sexist who undermines feminism with her actual writing of female characters.
And I honestly think she double and triples down on the terf stuff so that people will only talk about that. I think it's worth talking about the fact that not only is she an awful person in the terf way, but like, every other way imaginable too. I think it's worth talking about the fact that with all the obvious biases she has, the group she CHOOSES to publicly marginaiize is trans women, and I think she makes that choice because she thinks that she'll get more allies that way. That if she wore all of her issues on her sleeve like she wears the terfness, that she'd lose a lot of allies, that a lot of prestigious charities would stop having anything to do with her. That she uses the identity of "terf" as a shield because she knows that certain people will protect a terf, and she does this specifically so people won't notice how much of a sexist, abuse apologist, ableist, fatphobe etc she ALSO is. Opinions that could lose her a lot of money and clout if people remember them enough.
She's trying to pick on who she thinks is the most unpopular kid in the class out of the hopes that the bullies in class will be her friends instead of pile up on her, but if the bullies knew what she really thought of them, THEY wouldn't even be her friends.
Also like... I just want someone else to read the actual words in these books and see what fucked-up choices she made as a writer. I think a LOT of people remembering these books are actually remembering the movies, which are way more different from the books than you might expect.
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i need someone i can yell at about my very niche tma au ;w;
(see me playing fast and loose between tma lore and mdzs canon under the cut wheeee~)
this is part headcanon, part drabble, all-around mess. just dont think too hard about it please
the classification of each entity isn’t fully documented yet, smirke’s 14 doesn’t exist, but each major clan has a specific fear that called their founders. there are also some entities haven’t been identified yet so a lot of fears bleed into each other
they’re still cultivators here. they’re cultivating fear.
golden cores are the physical manifestation of your connection with your god within your body. the more you feed it, the more connected you are to your patron, the more powerful you become.
each clan is a powerhouse to a specific entity but their disciples can be touched by multiple entities (and honestly, i cant make everyone a slaughter avatar) only the sect leader needs to be fully devoted to their fear god
Gusu Lan = Beholding, Qinghe Nie = Slaughter, Yunmeng Jiang = Hunt, Lanling Jin = Stranger, and Qishan Wen = Desolation
wei wuxian was once heavily touched by the hunt. his mother a famous Huntress and rogue cultivator and his father a servant and close friend to the sect of The Everchase
jiang cheng’s Hunt core is slightly weaker but its fine because they are of the same pack. they are partners, brothers in everything but blood, and will hunt down anyone who dares to hurt the other.
jiang yanli isn’t an avatar, not marked by the hunt but touched by the Hive, manifesting more on the love/belonging and family aspect rather than the filth aspect
i have more Thots about the family aspects between hive/hunt and how they are both very possessive on who they call their Persons but expresses it different ways that mirror jyl and jc but that’s for a different post
during their time in the cloud recesses they meet a quiet watcher who wwx immediately zones in on him as his new “prey”.
lan wangji is silent and knowledgeable as is expected from a disciple of the beholding, but there is a certain chill around him that other eye avatars do not have
wwx stalks the poor boy, pounces on him whenever he manages to catch him alone, and is just a general disturbance all-around.
he does not feel the Eyes that sometimes watch him when he is alone.
lan xichen does not need the beholding’s power to see the way his brother looks at the young hunter disciple. he is pleased to feel the cold surrounding the jingshi has lessened. shufu seems perplexed and torn.
wwx’s also has his eye on jin zixuan, the pompous plastic peacock that’s engaged to his shijie. he isn’t actually allowed to hunt him down so he settles on dismembering the lifeless mannequins that he uses as servants.
(playing with the timeline here) they get kicked out when a text is destroyed within the Library Pavilion even though it was just a pornography book (any kind of knowledge is still knowledge) and even though it was lwj who destroyed it (the eye had punished him severely for that).
the desolation!wen are attempting to bring The Scourged Earth into the world. they burn down the cloud recesses “in the name of ‘cleaning up the place’ so that it would be ‘reborn from the firelight.’” ( - directly from the mdzs wiki)
the xuanwu of slaughter is an ancient manifestation of, well, the slaughter and cannot be reasoned with.
(”Lan Zhan, can you See anything?” “No. My connection with The Beholding has been greatly severed.” “Oh. well.. Uh, it’s kinda foggy in here huh? Here have my outer robe, you look kinda cold.” “…Mn.”)
lotus pier burns and jiang cheng loses his core. wwx asks flesh!wen qing for help because only an avatar of the flesh (the boneturner, though that isn’t its name yet) is able to carve open another avatar long enough to take something out and place it somewhere else.
jiang cheng immediately becomes a fully-fledged avatar using wwx’s hunt-influenced core. it manifests as strong bloodlust against the wens, fear of being seen as weak prey by the other clans, (and later, hunting down wwx and other end-aligned cultivators.)
wwx gets thrown in the burial mounds. he is dead for three whole months. and then he wakes up.
his hunter core is gone but that’s fine. he is alive not because he wants to but because he has to. when he is awake, he calls upon the dead to exact his revenge. the wens are defeated and everyone is in frightened awe of the new being that he has unwillingly become. when he is asleep, black tendrils of death plague his dreams. He relives the horrible memories of his own and others’ deaths. sometimes he can feel someone watching him but cannot see them in return.
wei wuxian is alive but he is not part of jiang cheng’s pack anymore. he does not follow them out on hunts anymore, doesn’t even bother to stay within the residences. he isn’t part of their pack anymore, abandoned their patron for something else more powerful, and for what? he feels resentment brewing inside him. resentment and fear.
wwx knew not to trust the polished and waxed faces of the jins. all the wen remnants are non-avatars, barely touched by anything other than the fear the jins had instilled by themselves. they do not deserve this cruelty, to be both entertainment and livestock for the rest of the cultivation world. it is true that death comes for everyone, but wwx will not let these people die at the hands of these strangers.
the wens become touched by the End during their stay in the burial mounds. wen ning, with flute music playing in his head, wins an archery game against Death and finally wakes.
one day a cold mist surrounds yilling when wwx takes a-yuan out on a stroll. He loses him but finds him again clinging to a man in white robes that looks like he wants to disappear. wwx feels himself smile brightly at the sight. (”lan zhan! it’s so nice to see you again! It’s been so cold out today but luckily it’s warmer now!” “Mn.” “You really blend in with the fog with those white robes of yours. it’s okay though because i’m sure i can find you wherever you disappear to!” “Mn.”)
qiongqi path becomes a massacre of plastic mannequins and not!beings. the smell of death and manufactured flesh fill the air like an offering to his unwanted patron, and black tendrils surround wwx and his assailants. It blinds him and he can’t see it, can’t control it, can’t stop it as jin zixuan is pierced through his chest and falls to the ground, dead.
the clans are outraged. they speak in fear of him, they hear of his power over life and death and that he, like the wen fugitives by his side, is trying to bring about his patron into the world. they call for an attack, a bloodbath to take him down once and for all.
and a bloodbath it is. the entire cultivation world against a one-man army. fear rings high in the air and all the Entities are well fed in the aftermath, the most satisfied: Slaughter and (paradoxical to their intent) The End.
later, much later, when the siege is over and nothing is left of his anchor other than a small child marked by death, lwj accepts the punishment lashes and then goes into cold seclusion. the jingshi is completely covered by clouds of fog. no one can See him, the elders only get a debilitating headache when they try to pry too hard. not even lxc, who has become the Eye’s most devoted avatar, can know his brother’s whereabouts. only lan yuan seems to able to navigate through the dense gloom.
the world moves on
jin guangyao’s wide smiles are not conspicuous within the plastic faces and painted lips within lanling jin. If his limbs are too long or if his smile a bit distorted or if he disappears through a bright yellow door and doesnt come back then no one makes mention of it.
No one also notices the webs above them hidden in the high ceilings of lanling jin nor the tiny spiders that skitter around the gossiping servants, spinning and weaving threads of thick silk around them.
it takes years for his brother to come out from the fog and lxc nearly weeps at the knowledge that The Lonely had not forsaken another member of his family. still, lwj has changed. there is a certain chill around him now that persists wherever he goes. though he has always been silent since childhood, his silence now is cold and unfeeling, eyes faraway as if not seeing those around him and only floating through the days. He is not completely alone though and that is enough to alleviate some of xichen’s worries.
time abates some wounds but certainly not all. there is still an empty cold pit in lwj’s chest but it does not bleed as freely as it did 10 years before. Before, he would have readily disappeared into the fog when the elders comes to look for him, now he chooses to disappear from the cloud recesses and absconds into night hunts. he goes wherever the chaos is, seeking (but not willing to hope) that he might find something that can stir the deadness in his heart.
tbc ?
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