#i would die + be reborn and also cherish it forever

[inochinoyomikata]

Inochi no Tabekata 2 ch 2-2 Translation

2-2 Shizukudani Rukana– Nature

Children inherit half of their genes from their father and half from their mother, and are born into this world. There are many genes. To some extent, the combination of these things determines what is called ‘aptitude,’ such as physical characteristics, personality, motor skills, and intelligence. For example, academic ability is about seventy percent based on genes.

Both of Rukana’s parents were mediocre, but by chance, they were a miraculously good match. So the kites gave birth to a falcon.

Itoha was right. Her father worked for a transportation company and her mother worked as a caregiver. They both seem to be hard workers, but they can hardly draw. They don’t have the memory power of Itoha, who can remember the ecology of insects, including butterflies and moths. They didn’t even recognize Itoha’s talent. Itoha’s grandmother was the only one who understood her, but she was always making compliments to her grandson, saying “Ito-chan is amazing,” then adding to it.

“Really, who do you look like?”

Every night, Rukana wraps herself up in her bed in her room and has these thoughts until she falls asleep. She hugs that creature that went into her futon, and she lets her imagination run free. She doesn’t tell them to Itoha, but she has her favorite fantasies.

In a previous life, Rukana and Itoha were just two sisters.

Naturally, Rukana doesn’t believe in her previous life. If humans were to be reborn, it would be strange that the population isn’t constant. It doesn’t make sense.

It was just a fantasy. The two were born as sisters in different places at different times. Sometimes they were born separate. The two still meet.

Rukana also knew that most humans die young, at most 120 years old, usually 90 or 80 years old or even younger. That’s why the sisters always died. Sometimes Rukana died first, and vice versa. The goodbyes are always sad and painful. However, the two are reborn and meet again.

He hadn’t spoken about it to Itoha yet. Rukana thought she would tell her story someday. It was just a fantasy. It was a silly way to kill time before going to bed.

Rukana and Itoha were not sisters. They would not be born again. Rukana doesn’t believe in reincarnation, heaven, hell, or paradise. If she died, that would surely be it. Both would die one day. A one-time breakup would tear the two apart forever. If one of them died, the two would never meet again. That’s the reality.

But that’s why it was so worth it to meet her. She wanted to cherish the time they spent together, at least until they said goodbye. 

Rukana had planned to tell Itoha about it someday.

The two were fifth years in elementary school.

Let’s talk before summer vacation. Or would it be better during summer vacation?

Four days before the closing ceremony, when they were about to leave the classroom at lunchtime after being invited by some girls in the same class, she was approached by a boy named Kogarezawa Marihiko.

“Shizukudani-san, is now okay?”

Rukana was terribly surprised. The surprise seemed to shock even herself.

“Eh, what? I have to go to the gym right now…”

Her body became hot, and she spoke very fast. Rukana couldn’t look straight at Kogarezawa’s face. Kogarezawa was well-known for his good looks, and it was whispered among girls that he looked like a certain pop-idol. He stood out from the noisy boys, soft spoken and shy. He doesn’t watch anime, read manga, or play video games, he just reads “the books on his father’s shelf.” Kogarezawa was once said to be “natural.”

On their spring trip, Rukana happened to walk next to Kogarezawa. Rukana was speaking normally as usual, and she was alone, but Kogarezawa suddenly said these words to her. “Shizukudani-san is something of a strange person.”

Kogarezawa wanted to talk to her after school today in a park near the school. Feeling like there was no reason to refuse, Rukana accepted.

Six or seven boys and girls of the same class had gathered in the park. She was a wild horse. But there was no one around the bench where Rukana and Kogarezawa were sitting. Kogarezawa, in a strangely nonchalant manner, said that he liked Rukana, and that there were days when he couldn’t sleep well.

“Please go out with me.”

When Kogarezawa said that, Rukana asked without thinking.

“Go out with you, and do what?”

“What would we do…”

Kogarezawa furrowed his eyebrows, looking a little embarrassed.

The next day was the day she went to Itoha’s house. Before Itoha started painting, Rukana reported on the matter of Kogarezawa.

“I decided to try going out with Kogarezawa-kun. When I asked him what he was going to do while going out with me, after thinking about it for a long time, the answer he gave was ‘I guess I mean getting to know each other.’ What was that? I laughed.”

“...But did you decide to go out with him?”

Itoha was looking down, clinging to the table with both arms. It felt very strange. It was as if she was enduring pain.

“I wonder if it's not bad to have that kind of experience…”

Rukana felt her blood draw. Did she do something outrageous? She shouldn’t have. 

“There are several girls in our class that have boyfriends. Since we’re elementary school students, I didn’t know what to do. I don’t like being too early, but it's also kind of weird to be too late–”

“What if it wasn’t Kogarezawa-kun?”

“What do you mean?”

“If it wasn’t Kogarezawa-kun, who confessed to you, would you be dating? Kaiyama, or Yachihama, or Kukita?”

Itoha named the boys in the same class one after another. Kaiyama was the fastest in the grade. Yachihama aimed to become a comedian. Kukita professed to only score 100s on tests, and had his classmates call him “Mr. Perfect.”

“How about…”

Rukana tried to think about it, but quickly came to the conclusion that it was impossible to think.

“Are you dating?”

“What?”

“Kogarezawa-kun… he looks good, doesn’t he? He’s not as noisy as the other boys. He's not unpleasant.”

“Is that all?”

“One time, you’re going to try dating?”

“I’m just going to try going out with Kogarezawa-kun.”

Itoha exhaled a heavy mass of air onto the table, then sighed again. Then she muttered “I see,” and fell silent. Rukana called out to her, and she only nodded and shook, but she didn’t reply. She didn’t even try to paint. In the end, they never met each other that day. Rukana left Itoha’s house.

+++ + ++++

She went on summer vacation without speaking to Itoha. During the day, Itoha would be home alone most of the time. Rukana visited Itoha’s house three times. No matter how many times she rang the chime, Itoha never came out. On her third trip back home, she got so angry that she decided that it was enough and that she didn’t know anything about Itoha. And yet, the next day, Itoha went to the park where she often collected insects.

A skinny girl in black and blue with a bug net was chasing something. When she called out, the hollow eyes looked at Rukana. She’d been stared at so many times by those bottomless eyes of hers. As it were, Rukana fell into the pit countless times. As Rukana tried to move closer, Itoha backed away, brandishing her insect net.

“Don’t come closer.”

It was an unexpected reaction, so Rukana was shocked. She was hurt and pissed off. She wanted to grab that black hair of hers and mess it up. She even wanted to pull her thin body down and ride a horse over her. Why would Itoha give such unreasonable and cruel treatment to Rukana? She did not understand.

“Understood. I won’t come closer.”

That’s right. Rukana stopped her. She wanted to know why.

“Shall we talk? Or do you not want to talk to me?”

“...That kind of thing is.”

Itoha lowered her head and stopped swinging her insect net and lowered it.

“Why?”

Rukana just wanted to know the reason. She shouldn’t blame Itoha. Itoha probably wouldn’t give her an answer if she said it in an emotional or harsh way. On the contrary she’ll run away. She took great care to not turn into an accusatory tone.

“Were you not home? Or were you there, but you just ignored me? What happened? I just want to know, and I don’t like not knowing. I think you know that, but this is my personality, my nature.”

“...Are you on good terms with Kogarezawa-kun?”

“We’re still in touch. That’s about it. It’s summer vacation.”

“I see.”

“What is it with Kogarezawa-kun? Is there something wrong with him? Do you hate Kogarezawa-kun?”

Itoha shook her head. She shook it so hard that her black hair got messed up. Her denial was strong. Rukana was stunned.

She had never thought about it until now. She decided it could be.

“Do you like Kogarezawa-kun?”

“I-I don’t like him.”

“But, you don’t hate me, do you?”

“...I don’t hate you. Just–”

“Just, what?”

Kogarezawa Marihiko was an avid reader and knowledgeable for a fifth-year boy in elementary school. That, in addition to his appearance, marked him. Rukana knew that he was knowledgeable. However, according to Itoha, Kogarezawa was particularly interested in living things in general, and even read specialized books that adults read.

“--Kogarezawa-kun is very knowledgeable about butterflies and moths…”

“How…how do you know about that?”

“Here. In this park before… I was looking for butterflies…”

“Like now?”

“...And then, at that time, Kogarezawa-kun talked to me.”

‘Hiiragi-san, it’s said that your clothes are similar to the Ruritaheha. I like it, the Ruritateha, that kind of butterfly.’

‘I know,’ Itoha replied. ‘This is a Ruritateha,’ she said.

Actually.

Saying that, Kogarezawa seemed to laugh.

‘I’ve been wondering about this for a long time, but it seems that you like collecting insects. Me too. During spring break and summer vacation, my father would take me to distant plateaus, swamps, and forests.

‘We camped. All day long, bug catching, fishing, and that sort of thing. If you apply honey to a tree, a lot of insects will gather, just looking at it is really amazing.

‘Wow,’ she said, ‘I’ve never done that...’

Itoha’s parents have work during new years and Obon. Her father’s and mother’s holidays don’t overlap, so Itoha only goes on overnight trips once a year when Itoha went with the elementary school.

‘That’s why I envy you… Then, Kogarezawa-kun…’

Kogarezawa had no way of knowing about Itoha’s family circumstances. But he seemed to have realized something. After thinking about it for a while, Kogarezawa told Itoha that she could go.

‘We are still children, and it is not easy for us to go out on our own, but we’ll be junior high students the year after next. After three years, we will be in high school. If you can earn money by doing a part-time job, you can go anywhere. I’m going to. I want to go camping alone, not with my father.’

“---I’ve always been like this… but that may not be the case. As time passes, many things will change… I wondered if I could change too…”

“Do you not know?”

Don’t get emotional. She had to keep calm. Itoha had told Rukana to stay away. Don’t cram her. Rukana wondered why she couldn’t stop herself.

“I never heard this. When are you talking about? Recently? Before I was asked by Kogarezawa-kun, right? Why were you silent? Did you keep it a secret? Why?”

“...I’m sorry.”

Itoha did not run away. But she cringed and apologized. She felt guilty. Itoha thought she was at fault.

“You should have told me, right? If you don’t tell me something like that, I won’t know it, right? You were hiding something from me. Didn’t I tell you?  Didn’t I tell you that I decided to go out with Kogarezawa?”

“But that was this and that…”

“I’m not wrong, am I? I’m telling you everything. There are no lies or secrets. I tell you because you’re Itoha. Did you make a mistake? You had a secret. You were lying.”

“Those were lies or secret–”

“If Kogarezawa-kun had talked to you, and it was a little good, you should have told me. If I heard, I wouldn’t have gone out with him.”

“It’s not like that!”

Itoha exclaimed. It was loud enough to burst her lungs.

“You don’t understand at all, Rukana! There are so many things I haven’t said! There are many things I can’t tell you!”

More than the volume of her voice, the meaning of words struck Rukana. Rakana didn’t even know where she was standing, whether she was standing on two legs or not. She didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel the weight of her body.

“I’m different. Different from you. Different from everything. Too different.”

What the hell was Itoha saying? Rukana didn’t know. Maybe she wasn’t speaking Japanese, maybe she was speaking another language from some unknown country.

“Unlike you, I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything well. I wanted to have friends. I was alone at school. I was lonely. It was lonely, it was hard, everyone seemed to be having fun, and I was envious. I was envious of you, who was always surrounded by many people and laughing. A lot of things I can’t get, you have. Your mother and father are kind, and they take care of you, and you have friends. You’re smart, and you’re taking lessons. You can do anything. I have nothing. Nothing. Even if I draw a picture, it won’t do me any good anyway. No matter how much I love Ruritateha, I cannot become a butterfly. I do not become a pupa and hatch. I don’t fly anywhere. I’m different. Unlike you. I like you, Rukana, but I couldn’t help but envy you. When I compared myself to you, I felt ashamed and miserable. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

Rukana wanted to cover her ears. She did not want to hear it. But she heard it. It was not a foreign language. Itoha spoke japanese. She understood what she meant. But she didn’t understand.

“...That—I can’t believe you thought like that. Why…why do you demean yourself so much? There’s no need to compare yourself to others, right? Itoha, you’re a genius, aren’t you? I admit that. I admit that more than anyone else, you know? Itoha, you’re the only person I can openly talk to about anything, you know?”

“Actually, you must be ashamed of me, too.”

“What are you saying?”

“Because you don’t look my way in school. You don’t want anyone to see me with you. Could you confidently say that you go to my house all the time?”

“C-could I say it? I can say it. I didn’t need to say it, so I just didn’t say it—”

“Did you think I was okay with you ignoring me all the way through school?”

“That’s, it wasn’t, like that…”

“You don’t understand at all. I was patient. I thought that you would be in trouble if I asked you to get along with me at school. Everyone treats me like a weirdo and it makes me feel bad because I’m an outcast. Because I’m different from you—”

“Then what should I do?”

Rukana poked Itoha’s chest and pushed. Itoha staggered, “Ah…” and fell back on her butt. She didn’t mean to push so hard. She had no intentions of getting her hands on her to begin with.

Itoha made her put out her hand. It was Itoha’s fault.

Unfair. Bringing up things from school. Itoha is cowardly. Why was she talking about it now? She should have known. They were very satisfied with each other. Rukana thought so. It was true Itoha was seen as a weird kid. She was an outcast at school. Some children still spoke ill about her. But, what happened?

She didn’t care what the ignorant, judgmental, prejudiced, stupid kids thought of her. Itoha had outstanding talent. Rukana knew about it. Only Rukana admitted it. That should be fine. What was she dissatisfied with?

“I’m sorry.”

Itoha let out a muffled voice. She was still sitting in the grass with her head down. The insect net had fallen from Itoha’s hand and was lying around.

“Maybe it's like you said. Maybe I liked Kogarezawa-kun for a while. I think I was jealous of Rukana. So I said something I didn’t have to say. I said something that I was trying to say, but couldn’t. Please, forgive me.”

Itoha arranged her words. Every word was empty. Nothing came through. It was like it wasn’t Itoha. Even though it looked like Itoha. Was it her only in that the contents had been replaced by something else? Rukana seriously doubted that. It was Itoha, but it was not Itoha. At least, it was different from the Itoha that Rukana knew. It was someone else.

Give her back.

Give me back my Itoha.

Rukana wanted to sue.

But, who would I sue, and what should I sue for?

“I can’t forgive you.”

Itoha muttered and stood up. Then she bent down and picked up her insect net. It was strangely mechanical. Itoha started walking. Her steps were firm. It seemed to Rukana that she was walking firmly.

It was strange. Funny. Itoha was about to leave Rukana behind. Could that be the case? Rukana wanted to ask Itoha. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Why?’ Even if Rukana did not ask, Itoha would eventually stop. She must turn around and say something. Itoha shouldn’t leave Rukana behind.

Why doesn’t Itoha look back? Was she going to walk steadily without stopping even once? Itoha’s back became smaller and smaller. It’s not too late now. If she ran at full speed, she could catch up. 

But her legs didn’t move. She can’t move. Actually, she couldn’t stand still. Rukana crouched down. By the time she sat in the grass, Itoha was out of sight. Once, she disappeared. Itoha will come back.

She should come back.

#inochi no tabekata #inochi no tabekata translation #e ve

[a-gal-with-taste]

Pretend (Pt. 1)

Summary: Drunk guys suck. It sucks to be around them, be one of them, or worse, be followed by one of them. After being tailed one-too-many blocks, you duck into the first bar you find and grab the most-sober looking man in the room to do a bit of acting. You find, it might have been a more dangerous gamble than you'd ever intended... (AKA, the Fake-Dating AU)

3K+ Wordcount/GN!Reader X Silco (slow-burn-ish)

Warning: SFW but A bit darker than normal, drunk-harrassment, minor descriptions of violence/blood, first-meeting, fake relationship, tension, set shortly after Act 1 yes because I wanted to check out more Act 1 Silco pics, don't act surprised

The door swings loudly, and the slam of it against the wall would be near-deafening, if the sound of the rowdy, pounding dancefloor wasn't already at least twice as noisy. You didn't care, and welcomed the peace of chaos, in fact, as you stormed in without even knowing the name of the bar. You just knew even from the outside, that it was loud, crowded, and easy to lose yourself in.

Immediately working your eyes to plot your escape, planning to duck into the rolling crowd and find an back-exit that couldn't be tailed by-

"C'monnn, ya really gonna be like that?" A hand snagged your sleeve, a paw that tugs you back before you could fully slip into the crowd. You felt your already sore-teeth grind down even more as a second arm snaked over your shoulder, limp but heavy as you were tugged back against an abnormally warmed chest. "Seriously dude, screw off. I wasn't in the mood at the last place, I am definitely not in the mood here."

Stiffening, you feel a pout against your scalp as he leaned over behind you, pressing his face against your hair as the hand on your shoulder started tip-toeing down your arm. It's as stumbling as his steps are. Your body shivers in disgust as you feel him sniff your hair, Gods... "I could make ya into a mood, just gotta say the magic word-" "How about if I say no?!"

"Hm... could be kinda sexy to work ya up to changing that-"

Revolted, you sharply snap your elbow back into his gut before sweeping under his grip and darting between the bodies on the dancefloor, leaving him as lets out an unintelligible, aggravated whine of complaint. You squeezed between a couple, earning their complains of ire before stumbling into the relatively calmer bar-area. Tables crowded and clustered as you glance around for an exit and you swear when you don't immediately detect one.

This place is not familiar, as you rarely go this deep into the city, and for good reason. This is ground-zero for the wildest, darkest and most dangerous folks in the Underworld to come out and play, especially in the more recent events. With Topside still on edge, any relative peace, or at least a handle on the more notorious of the Undercity, was loosened. Things were uncertain, dangerous, and you were the one stupid-enough to go just one-too-many miles down-deep for a night on the town.

But, you could still get out of this without further embarrassments, or worse, with a little help. No bartender worth his business wanted to cause trouble by calling out poor etiquette and lose a customer, especially during these times, so you turned your attention to the patrons. Your luck for the night was already shit, but apparently the universe wanted to really rub it in as you felt hope draining when you looked at your options.

Scanning the area, you felt frustration as you saw most were taking shots, or openly swaying, until your eyes caught a figure who was coming to a stop after a long, controlled stride to the bar from the stairs. No stumbling, just a confident and open swagger that caught your eye instantly as you zeroed your attention on him.

Tall, wiry, slight fraying at his otherwise refined clothing - no pushover, you could spot a slight curve of muscle in his exposed arms, sleeves rolled up as he braced them palm-flat on the counter-edges and leaned over to speak directly to the bartender. You don't particularly care what this guy's face looks like, only if he's got a bit of strength, a bit of intimidation and, gods-willing, a bit of pity in him to play along for five seconds.

There wasn't a lot of pity, nor compassion here. But you could hope, because you didn't know what else to do.

You were no true fighter, doing some manual work every once and a while to get by, but you lived on a higher level in the Undercity, that was almost akin to neighborly. Stabbings, muggings and high-tempered brawling still occurred occasionally, of course, but you were allowed some peace of mind in your daily walk from the apartment, to a market stall, and work, without needing to take a swing to the face. Or give one of your own.

Probably why you were in this mess in the first place, you were just too much of an easy target down here.

The bartender looks half-way to ashen as he's spoken to lowly by a stern man, who now leans back to cross his arms, but the only parts you care about are the fact that he is A: not visibly drunk, or holding a glass in a way that suggests he's about to be, and B: he's alone. No Miss or Mr to throw a fit over what kind of faux-role you're about to play.

You don't stop to think, or wonder if this is asking for more trouble then you're already in. You plastered what you hoped was a smooth grin on your face, half-ran, half-skipped over, and slipped your arms around the man's waist. Beneath his crossed arms, hovering just above actually-touching him as you loudly, and half-pleadingly informed someone who you prayed was sober enough to play along, "Sweetheart, this bum's been following me for three whole blocks! Could you help me out here?"

Your first clue that this was a horrible idea, was the bartender going from a greying-face of terror, to pure, white-faced shock at your open term of endearment. The second came when hands snapped down to yours that are interlocking at the front of the man's waist, grip tight. Unyielding and holding your wrists captive for clue number three...

A snap of a head to the side, just enough so the corner of the glowing red and black eye pierces directly through you like a knife to hold you in place.

The smile you had put on placatingly, to try and sooth him into agreeing to this little act, freezes in place under the simmer of hellfire in the ruined, scarred side of his face. You distantly see his mouth part open, once.

Pauses. Closes, then between slightly-clenched teeth, he growls out the next word in the lowest. Darkest. Most appalled, perplexed and overall stunned tone you've ever heard in your life, to come out of another person's mouth, "Sweetheart?"

Fuck. Fuck.

If the bastard tailing you isn't already an issue, you might just find yourself murdered at this psychopaths hands, based on the way the red eye is already showing you the depths of hell itself.

Still, you try again, widening your eyes and smile in what you hope is perceived as charming. Probably reeking of your desperation.

With your arms finally closing the distance to squeeze around his waist, feeling a jerk beneath your touch as his jawline goes wireline tense, you lean up closer under that impossibly burning red gaze, "Sweetheart. Lover-boy. Yessir. Handsome, literally whatever you want me to call you..." You subtly tilt your head to the side, breath caught as he turns to you fully, a second, human eye fixated on you in a low slit as he stares directly into your eyes. The grip hasn't loosened or removed from your wrists. "... there's a guy in a purple shirt following me, baby, and I really, really need some help."

There's a solid minute where he's just... staring at you. Boring holes into your eye-sockets in the most intense, duel-colored staring contest of your life, and you whisper hoarsely as your face struggles not to fall, "I will literally buy you the entire menu if you do this. Help me. Please."

A beat.

The green-eye slips fully closed and there's hot air brushing past your face as he scoffs out a breath, sounding in disbelief paired with a slight shake of his head. You feel your heart sinking down to your stomach, humiliation and nausea suddenly burning in your eyes, your throat, and go to try and free your hands from his burning grip, find that damn exit- "Water, on ice. Now."

The fresh drink nearly slides off the countertop with the speed it's made-in by a otherwise petrified bartender, and after freeing one hand, long-fingers catch the glass before it could fall and crash onto the floor.

The freshly released hand from the man's immobile grip is full of the frigid glass as he securely presses it into your hand, forcing your fingers to curl around it. You grip it like a lifeline as the world, or rather, he moves around you. A practiced arm curling smoothly close to your wrist, hovering like yours did, before he forces you to suddenly keep up close beside him as he strides from the counter. You see the free hand lazyily lift, give signal or two to some stonier-thugs near the wall, and they disappear.

Unable to find time to turn and watch where they're going, as your guide stops before your destination: a private booth in the very back of the bar.

"Purple, you say?"

Your head manages a nod as you all but crawl into the cushed seat, worn and a bit of thread poking out at the seams. More focus is given to the man who still holds your sweaty-palm, steadying your balance when you nearly slide off the seat. "Easy now. Take a drink, clear your head." You hear him mutter, "Purple, fix a glass." Assuming he's talking to one of the thugs, but you can't really care as you finally take a seat, leaning hard against the wall. Hands wrapped around the ice-water with a vengeance, you resolve to keep your head down and out of sight as your... the guy, takes a seat across from you.

Except he doesn't.

He smoothly slides into the seat right next to you, like he's always done that.

"Drink," The order is repeated, quiet and low, and the glass is halfway to your lips before you stop yourself. There's a sigh, and you catch a long fingers in your peripheral, before they disappear beneath the glass. Guiding the chilled material to your lips, the gentle but insistent force of his touch on the glass finds you automatically opening your mouth, and half-freezing your throat as you take a quiet drink.

"Slowly. I am trying to calm you down, not make you sick all over my booth..." "I'm not drunk," You rasp as you lower the glass with a clink back onto the table. Steeling yourself, chancing a glass towards him earns you a side-eye of epic proportions, the sea-green eye unreadable once more in it's slitted fashion, dark brow narrowed downward slightly.

He scoffs. "Based on the stunt you just pulled, I consiter you the most sobered drunkard to ever grace this pub." You drop your eyes back to your glass, ears and face burning. "Well, I couldn't find the other exit-" He interrupts, a bit disbelieving, "You've never been to The Last Drop? Thought all the fools end up here one way or another."

You find yourself scowling, watching the frosty perspiration build on the sides of your glass, "Well, I didn't expect assholes to make their home here either." There's a beat, and you suddenly feel that burning sensation at the side of your head. Akin to hellfire, and you sigh, ducking your head a bit, "Sorry, I just..."

It's not a laugh; barely a chuckle. It's a low rumble that sounds, that suggests your gall bemused him one way or another. Regardless of what it's classed as, you feel some tension released from you, even though you also get the feeling it really, really shouldn't.

There's a grunt and you look up, freeze as you see your catcaller, then stalker being shoved across from you at the booth. Hazed eyes take a minute, especially as he's visibly swaying, but he notes you soon enough, and the man who sits beside you, calm with hands folded atop one another on the table. "... you lil' bitch, ya ran off 'n called the calvary, didja?"

Any comment you want to make in your defense dies quickly. It's buried the moment he casually lifts his arm, up and over you, and around your shoulders. The half-scarred face man casually slips you down the seat until you're flush against him, hip to hip, as if he's been doing it for as long as he could remember. "That's not the nicest thing to call my partner. I suggest you use softer words from here on out. It's for your own benefit, I assure you."

His tone is nonchalant. Like he didn't just wrapped an arm around you. Like he didn't just say 'partner'. Like you aren't sitting there, flush against him, and he just sat there and called you his 'partner.'

It's what you wanted, yes. Needed, in fact, but...

But he said 'partner' like it was true. And a part of you liked the way he said it.

"Oi, they came onto me, man, I dunno whatcha want," Drink making the lie almost sound truth, but you still stiffen, bristle at the gall of this man as a large, thick-glassed cup is placed before him, filled with ale that he eagerly begins to chug. Intoxicated as he may be, you still hiss at him, "You bastard, that's not what the fuck happened-!"

"Sweetheart." Your mouth is dry, and then it's shut as the low murmur breathed close to your ear continues, "Let me handle this."

You quietly find yourself bringing the glass, ice clinking, back up to your mouth, focusing on chugging down the chilled water. And the thumb rubbing slow circles on your shoulder as he straightens, and looks across at your cat-caller, studying him with something akin to boredom.

"What's your name?"

"Geyre." You snort at the name, it earns you a small squeeze at the shoulder. "Hm. Geyre..."

Blunt nails tap on the tabletop, mixed-colored eyes watching the man impassively for a moment before he suddenly says, "Never liked sharing the Playground with fools. It's like working with children." "Oh yeah?" A dull thud as he plops the bottom of his glass on the table, sizing up the wiry man across from him with narrowed eyes, "Reckon I don't look like no kid."

"No, but you run around like one. Wailing for toys you'll break or smash, causing mischief that I have no time, paitence nor eagerness to clean up." He reclines back, and you, still linked to him by an arm across your shouldersz recline with him. The thumb never stops rubbing against your shoulder. "I get enough trouble from Topside coming down to have playdates, breaking toys, people and the like... I don't need a drunken toddler running about as well."

"Ya saying 'm like one of those damn topsiders?"

A frown, and you can picture the red-eye glinting, surrounded in black as the sea-foam one rolls up the the ceiling. "No, my analogy is on children, and the fact that you apparently seem to have the mental capacity of one. So, let me make this more clear..." He cleared his throat, and your eyes couldn't help but drop down to the white tie at his neck bobbing as it did so.

You took another drink of iced-water as he spoke, lowly, "Get out of my bar. Stay out of my side of town. Don't cause trouble. And if I hear more problems being caused by fools like you, I don't intend to ask around to see who did it, or if you were involved at all..." A small head tilt and a careless shrug. "I'll just kill you anyways."

The ice-chip feels like a knife going down your throat as you stare. One man going beet-red, hand tight and knuckles ashen around the glass in hand. And your so-called 'sweetheart' reclining with you halfway into his lap, while he's casually threatening to kill a man for giving him a minor headache.

Suddenly, you start to think perhaps you should've done a quick introductory before you chose him out of the crowd.

"... been 'ere before, did I mention that?" The haze seems to lift a bit, life and spite returning to the eyes that only held intoxication across the table. "Back before there was an ownership change..."

"I remember a Hound being 'ere... before there was a rat."

"Ah." The green-eye narrows, you can picture the red one blazing, and the soothing, petting motion on your shoulder finally stills. "Do you now? Well, I don't know if you've heard the rumor..." Geyre snorts, cutting off the low drawl, but you barely hear, as your mind begins to ring with the new, yet already familiar empty phrase that's been circulating these last couple months.

'Heard the rumor... heard the rumor yet.... heard it...?'

"Vander scared the livin' shit outta all of us from the glory-days, even when he was goin' soft. S'only reason we stuck together, did what 'e said even when times got tough... Vander was a scary sonovabitch, even spooked me..." The intoxicated man, eyes already going hazy as he wraps a hand around the handle of the glass, manages out a biting remark of scorn before his words start slurring again, "So trust me on this... ya ain't no Vander."

The air goes still. Cut by the guzzling of another gulletful of ale, and you suddenly realize something:

It's been awfully quiet.

A pub, and a dance-floor, have gotten eerily quiet at the height of the evening, and you figure out why when you glance around your 'partner' and realize the club has been entirely cleared out. Save for the thugs that were signaled to earlier, and a dozen of their brethren watching with cool, awaiting faces. They look on with anticipation, a challange or doubt in their eyes at they watch the man beside you, and see what his response is going to be... Some look excited, and you glance up at the man sitting beside you to see why...

And he's smiling. Showing off a low grin full of cracked, slightly crooked teeth, and a tooth gap that should not be as endearing as it is, consitering the nature of that smile on his face...

He smiles like a cat that just caught a bird. Like a shark tasting blood.

He smiles like he just found something that just made his evening a bit more exciting, even if his voice is as low, and cheery as the grave as he draws out smoothly between his lips, "No, I'm afraid I am not... unfortunately, I am nothing like Vander."

It's halfway over before you realize it happened.

Warmth fades from your shoulder as the hand retracts from you, while the other hand lunges, and latches onto purchase on the hair of the condemned bastard from across the table, as he rises halfway to his feet to dig claws into hair at the speed of a viper.

The large, thick glass cup is held just comfortably below the man's face. So when your 'partner' tugs down sharply, slamming him face-down onto the table, the glass is caught between the wooden surface, and face.

It shatters on the heavy impact of a booze-heavy head, at the same time you hear several sickening cracks. It's akin to the time you watched a neighbor get his nose broken.

A brutal tug up on short locks of hair, and the blood-steaked, glass cut face of Geyre is brought back into view. Before it's thrown back down onto a table covered in glass shards and blood, another sickening sounds.

And again, as his face is slammed back down again.

And again.

Again.

And again-

When he's limp, red, and the large glass shards scattered everywhere on the surface are nearly reduced back to sand, does the man you called 'Sweetheart' lean back, settle down in his seat. Does another small scoff as he languishly brushes a hand on his vest, clean off any remaining grease he imagines soiling his hand.

Doesn't do anything about the smear of flung-blood left on his unmarred cheek, or staining the arms from where his sleeves are rolled up, as he turns and gazes at the assortment of his goons around the rest of the bar.

He raises a nonchalant brow, and your stunned mind realizes that this entire show... it was as much an act as yours was, when you threw your arms around him and called him 'sweetheart.'

His goons are now staring at him in approval, grim satisfaction and renewed respect, might as well have been a standing-ovation, though his cool expression never changes for a moment to show his pleasure.

"The Last Drop is our new base now. Home, if you want to be sentimental. Base of operations, base of work, and while it can be a base for pleasure, I expect filth like this," He gestures vaugely to the limp form of the man, lying too still on the table with blood steadily dripping off the side, and onto the ground below. "...to stay on the streets. Set an example. Show control, especially in our own house. And if you see something like this again... well. I assume you all know how to make sure no one ever sees it again."

He doesn't need to order the body - or the unconcious man, you realize with a jolt as you hear a broken groan - off the table. Two are already plucking it off, with an equally unnerved, but unsurprised bartender coming by to quickly begin to sweep the glass, wipe down the blood and make the incident disappear entirely.

Long fingers reach over, and take your chin. It's a loose grasp, one you can shake off.

You can't and he knows it, as he turns your head back to him so he could get a look at your face.

The green watches you impassively, while the red burns through you. A small purse of his lips as he gave a consitering him, reaching up delicately to pluck a bit of glass of your hair. As his hand retracts, that warm thumb that had been caressing your shoulder trails down your face, and catches the splattered speckles of blood on your cheek.

He smiles, again. It's different from the one he gave the doomed man, but you still feel like prey.

"So, sweetheart... what am I going to do with you?"

#if anyone wants to get me ANYTHING for my upcoming birthday #please get me a soundbite of Jason growling out 'sweetheart' #i would die + be reborn and also cherish it forever #and i would make you cookies #i make kickass cookies #arcane #silco #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco x gender neutral reader #arcane fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #pretend!verse #also i set it after act 1 so i have more excuses to stare longingly at Silco's act 1 attire #i'm not ashamed to admit it #i wanted an excuse

[abimee]

can you tell me abt ruhan and ryder? very cool guys 10/10

YOU BET I CAN

Ruyan is a 28 year old she/him agender bisexual and Ryder is a 24 year old she/her transmasc bisexual, they met when ryder was 8 and ruyan was 12 becayse ryder killed one of ruyans bullies on accident.

Ryder is actually from another timeline of Ruyans universe, and in a sense is that timelines Ruyan but in the sense that theyre both actually a piece of the same person from millions of years ago (a lady named azem). Ryder's world went to shit because in her timeline of events graha tia never woke up from the crystal tower abd the ascians won their fight to rejoin their star system. They took Ryder and fucked her up making her similar to an ascian where shes a soul without a body that cannot die and enter the lifestream unless under very specific bindings. they then just sort of let her go because they won so its not like she could do anything to them and sort of just fucked her up to see if they could remake their original self existence before just making another dead soul.

she then took her old body, stole a dudes vital organs, and used the knowledge disposed to her in her dead world to move over a timeline and ended up in ruyans. she then put her stolen organs into the body of a dead child who gave themself to their god to exit out of the reincarnation cycle and used the fresh organs to revitilize the body so it can age and "live" and ryder can create the false belief that she was a normal living child. and then she accidently killed one of ruyan bullies because she was a 20 year old champion of the world destined to fight now stuck inside a kids body trying to act like one while also having severe anger issues

ruyan is an abandoned child who under his family teachings believes that indulgence and wanting will get him punished by their gods because their ancestors indulged too much and now must deprave themselves to win back the mercy. hes very sensitive and tries to be bold but often gets picked on by kids for his belief that he is his communities reincarnated god as they believe that you can see the gods in certain peoples eyes and those two are destined to marry. but everyone sees ruyan as a crybaby and a strange child and he has little support to keep him strong until he meets ryder, who would kill for him

they protect each other and eventually at age 16 ruyan takes ryder away to try to form a new life elsewhere, eventually leading him to his current life in eorzea. cue the story of the game they exist in FINAL FANTASY FOURTEEN

ryder eventually resees her universe and beyond and sees all that wouldve happened if it didnt explode in her face, and even meets the man who let her world die and ruyan has a crush on him and ryder is so godsamn terrified of it because he broke her heart before her world ended and shes scared thats destiny in this tl and ruyan is very fragile since this is the first time hes ever fallen in love and she seems adament to believe graha is his soulmate. dude does the same thing and it ruins ruyans world for him

but its fine because ryder sees a part of the tl that never existed for her and a man shes never seen before who acts close to ruyan abd she recognizes that this means something. she can see things under the surface ruyan cant because she knows this story so when something is different or altered she chases the possible outcome and tries her hardest to push for ruyans life to be happy and joyful and for him to live on where ryder didnt. and he meets his future husband but he still believes hea destined with graha while ryder is eating cardboard because she can SEE how different ruyan acts towards this elf guy like hes not tense and shaky like he was with graha hes relaxed and pushy and laughs loudly and he can see the way the man returns every toch affectionately and ryder is basically experiemcing a movie where she knows how it ends and the snails oace writing is making her scream for it to just happen already

eventually she ought to let ruyan know of her existence as what she is and she does when ruyan himself learns he IS the god he thought he was, because his god azim was an ancient interpretation of this ancient being named Azem who lived in the first iteration of their world, he is a shard of her existence that split amongst the worlds born of the original world. and so he has to know that ryder is just a ghost of a dead existence and that she too is just a long forgotten veing grasping for the threads of life.

and eventually she does gotta leave. her time will be up one day and ahe cant keep living in a world not made for her, she just haf nowhere to go and nobody to hold onto but her time with ruyan had shown her all the love and joy in the world that couldve been and that she needs to accept that she cant have that. ryder is a trope i really like of like a cathartic bad ending, she is someone who will not get a happy ending and there are people in this world like that and to accept that and that she has to let go is very important to me. she has to disappear and let ruyan lead through his life and the universe made for him, but shes at least happy she got to help ruyan there, like it was fate for them to meet; one life for one world etc etc

and ruyan int fully alone when ryder disappears, because they both know that she wont just cease; her exist will be reborn, someone else in this universe will take her place, another ryder will come and the ryder of this timeline ia out there somewhere. there are flecks of her in this univers dug into the fabric of it and ruyan will forever see her presence where it left its mark; ruyan will hear her laughter in his own, see her silhouette in her faborite chair, see her running through a crowd and disappear before he can call to her. people pass him and he swears its ryder but they look nothing alike, ryder in people who do not answer to that name and do not recall a thing. even a Shade of Ryder lives in in amaurot, the hollow concept of her existence given refuge in the concept of a world that died long ago.

ruyan even eventually meets the person Ryder is reincarnated into, years later when hes married and wishing to have a child and he meets this aggressive, stubborn, obnoxious child abandoned to the orphanage by parents who died and a family that refused to accept them. the child calls himself Hildegarde and he pushes his classmates, refuses the authority of his teachers, he plays by himself and in that look of rage in his eyes does Ruyan see all the pain and sorrow of Ryder reborn into the world, the part of ther that gave her existence meaning and morphed into its own being seperates from azem, from being ruyans other, from being ryder. and with that Ruyan is able to see Hildegarde for what he truly is but a poor kicked dog that everyone refuses to listen to its begging and ruyan is able to get through to the child and show him that he can be loved and accepted and cherishes, even with fangs and claws and bites because

because its what ryder showed ruyan

#this explained nothing hope this was worth it lmfaooooo

[bisexualsforprompto]

Miraculous: Reborn (Maribat Injury AU)

AO3

One (Here)            Two

“G-good morning,” a young blue haired girl begun in shakily in English. “My name is M-Marinette D-dupain-Cheng and today I-I-I.” The red haired teacher at the front of the class put a hand on the small girl’s shoulder and spoke to her soothingly in French, “It’s okay Marinette. Just do your best, English is hard sometimes!” Marinette smiled a toothy grin, she was missing her two front teeth like most of the other ten year olds in her class. A blonde girl filing her nails with her hair tied up in two twin braids scoffed, “Dupain-Cheng can hardly do anything right. Just move along to the next presentation!” The carrot haired girl in glasses next to her giggled.

“Now Chloé, not everyone is a natural at English, and besides, Marinette-“

“I can so do things right Chloé! Just you watch and I-“ Marinette stomped as she brought her notecards up to her chest, then she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach. She fell to the ground and covered her stomach. Chloé laughed, “See you cant even stand right!!!” The class save for a young boy in a red cap that was far too big for his head and glasses who was Marinette’s best friend started to snicker. Marinette couldn’t react to her classmates harsh words and giggles, the stabbing pain was back and worse this time. She clutched her stomach and felt panic when she felt something sticky and wet clinging to her shirt. 

Rolling over to lay down on her back she drew her hand away from her belly to be greeted with a sickeningly salty red liquid that smelled metallic. Marinette heard gasps come from all around. She recognized her teacher coming over to Marinette to help and the redhead muttering, “It must be her soulmate.” Caline Bustier started to scream as a long cut was being drawn across her pupil’s throat from an invisible blade, “I NEED HELP IN HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!” Screams erupted as the class saw the blood gushing from their fellow classmate, a small petite blond in pink started to cry as she was shielded away from the scene by a tall black haired girl. Nino couldn't look at his best friend without bile rising in his stomach, this couldn’t be happening! It was all a bad dream! He’d wake up, and Mari would be fine and her happy loving self!

Marinette couldn’t stop wheezing, it was like she her lungs were burning. She was trying to breathe but she couldn’t. She felt something sharp pierce her neck. She felt her blood moving into her mouth. ‘NO NO NO!!’ all her senses screamed at her. She couldn’t think straight, it was as if alarms were ringing in her head but they all kept building louder and louder into a cacophony that gave her a headache. She choked on something and coughed up that same thing. She realized it was blood when she saw her horrified teacher with her blood she previous coughed up standing above her.

The last thing Marinette heard was her best friend shouting, “MARI! MARI NO!” 

The last thing Marinette saw was her teacher’s terrified yet helpless expression.

The last thing she smelled was a metallic salty substance that overused all the other smells she had ever known.

The last thing she tasted was her blood, like she was drowning in it.

The last thing she touched was the first scar she had ever received from her soulmate as she thought of how much she loved them even though she didn’t know them yet, how much she loved her parents and Nino.

Then black.

Sabine traced her fingers on the grain of her daughter’s maple coffin. It had been months and she and Tom were still too heartbroken to bury her. They had given her a proper funeral but refused to bury her, ‘it made it too real,’ Sabine mused. Sure people thought it was weird for parents to keep their dead child’s coffin in the room their child used to live in but people also thought it was weird for a ten year old to die because her soulmate was brutally murdered.

Sabine sighed, she and Tom had prayed so long for a child only for her to be taken away. Oh the resentment that brewed inside Sabine from her daughter’s soulmate… The soulmate bond, like the one she shared with Tom, connected the two hearts through spirit and body. The spirits of those in the bond would gain the injuries that the other had received. Sabine glanced down at the scar which led her to her soulmate. 

She had been in the bakery when a rather klutzy young classmate ran in and crashed into the door. Sabine had giggled and then realized a bruise appeared in the place bruise that the man had run into the door. She cherished it that’s when she had finally met her soulmate, the one she was destined to be with forever.

Sabine had always loved soulmate bonds, only about half the population had one, but when her pride and joy was dead because of the soulmate bond she was beyond angry. She knew Tom felt the same way, but he wasn’t as good at articulating it. 

Everyday she and Tom would find separate times to talk to their daughter. It had been this way since she died, Sabine relished the times she got with her daughter. She just said the little things, how her day was going, how much she missed her daughter, and how Tom was. One day she found herself so sick of missing her daughter, all sorts of parents and their children had visited the bakery that day. Sabine cried more than she ever had and cursed the very day Marinette’s soulmate was born.

Sabine closed her eyes at the memory, it wasn’t her proudest moment but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t stopped resenting. Sabine sat on her daughter’s old bed and straighten out the covers. She felt tempted to open the coffin, she her beautiful girl one last time, but she couldn’t.

She remembered the time when she experienced her first loss, her grandmother. Her father had warned her the day of the funeral that when she saw her grandmother she wouldn’t be looking at the same person she knew for thirteen years. Her father said it was in the eyes. The eyes read the spirit of the soul. Sure enough, Sabine found herself, just a meager teenager, standing in front of the casket of her grandmother being haunted by the lifeless eyes that laid before her.

The eyes plagued her nightmares for weeks.

Choking out a sob, knowing that she had seen her daughter’s lively, bluebell eyes for the last time Sabine clenched her fists. She began to hear the cacophony of emotions calling her.

Anger, for the one who put her daughter there.

Fear, for the daughter who must have had so much before she died.

Sadness, for the girl she had loved so much.

And betrayal, betrayal from God himself. Sabine had never been overly religious but it was easier to have more to blame for the tragedy that befell her daughter. Sabine cursed Him, how dare he choose to take the one thing that mattered from him. Her sunshine, her daughter, Marinette.

Sabine felt her vision cloud, she started to feel her eyes cross over but remembered the trick her therapist taught her, ‘five things I can see: Marinette’s pink bed sheets, Marinette’s desk, Marinette’s window, Marinette’s balcony, Marinette’s...coffin.’

Sabine shook herself, she needed to stay focused, ‘four things I can touch: Marinette’s bed, Marinette’s old sketchbook, Marinette’s favorite dress, Marinette’s...coffin.’

Sabine gulped and took a deep breath as she continued, ‘three things I can hear: the birds chirping outside, the mixer whirling downstairs, Marinette…’

Wait, Marinette?! Sabine shot up. She knew she wasn’t in her best frame of mind but she knew what she heard. It sounded like a whimper and then it disappeared. Then she heard it again, this time a scream sounding like her daughter’s and a pounding on wood. The pounding got stronger and the screams got louder. Sabine held her head as she keeled over. 

‘Where is it coming from?!’ She asked herself, until she realized exactly where it was coming from. It was coming from the place she dared not to open. Sabine had to though, if there was even a small chance that her daughter was screaming. A small chance that it wasn’t Sabine’s imagination, she had to take it.

Sabine Cheng thrust open the coffin to her daughter’s eyes.

They weren’t dull like her grandmother’s eyes, there were rich, gorgeous, and alive. She stared in wonder as her daughter stared back, no longer screaming.

Marinette caught her breath before sitting up in the wooden coffin,

“M-maman?” She whimpered as Sabine wrapped her child in a hug. A now revived Marinette embraced her mother back as all her memories came back. She remembered the biggest memories first: the ones she loved, her favorite days and the moment she died. It was one thing to die, Marinette realized, it was another to die and then realize you were living. 

‘A miracle,’ Sabine cried, ‘My daughter is miraculous.’

And at that moment two souls, two halves of a whole, were gone no longer.

They were reborn.

Taglist:

@persephonebutkore @northernbluetongue @vixen-uchiha @caffeinetheory @18-fandoms-unite-08 

#soulmate injury au #maribat #Damian Wayne #damianette #marinette dupen chang

[thebeauregardbros]

Alus’ feelings towards Zenos (MAJOR stormblood / shadowbringers spoilers!!!)

When I first met him, I thought - “Another Garlean Soldier. When will this warpath of death end?” Another killer. Another warlord. Another war. It feels like it will never end. He wears another helmet. Another faceless murderer. Another mask that just felt like a cruel disregard for allowing us to remember they are human, just like us. All for the fight, all for the bloodshed. All they care about is strength, nothing else. Have they also forgotten they are human?

When I chanced to see his face, I could not help but utter these words; “You... Are so beautiful. ‘Tis such a shame.. .. Your beauty is wasted on such cruel and ugly actions.”

My brother, Arc, lashed at me. He thought I was stupid to even utter such words - Ones not deserving for a murderer, even as a joke. But I never hated my enemies anyway. I always felt regret. I always wished they’d cease for the sake of peace. Now, especially. I felt so sad someone so beautiful would fail to understand what they had in their possession. I tried so hard to be beautiful. Those gorgeous eyes.. I wish I could see them peacefully smile over a cup of tea, at least once. So I told him. “Wouldn’t you rather come and sit and have some tea with me? Zenos.. That’s your name, no? A real life prince..” He could never guess that all I ever wanted to be was a beautiful prince such as he. He probably wouldn’t care if I told him, anyway. Garlean society is so much different than ours. He had no idea what he possessed. Everything I envied, everything I wanted. Wasted. Turned to composted trash and bile. The stench of blood that makes one wish to puke.. Such ugly corruption for such a beautiful man. “Please turn yourself in. I promise I shall visit every day.. What is your favorite kind of tea?”

He wouldn’t listen. War and violence, much rather his cup of tea.

Arc could see my anguish. I didn’t speak of Zenos outside of battle, much. That was what much of our relationship came down to: last second regrets, though oft it was not a problem; I am grateful for Arc being by my side when it really matters, or else I might throw myself upon Zenos’ blade, just to show the villain how much I hated war. How much choice he had. Just to get close enough to him to hug that sad, sad man. To tell him he didn’t need to fight to feel something. That someone almost as strong as he could be so different, without regret. I do not want my brother to see me die. I don’t want my brother to die by his hand, either. I knew what we both had to do. We had to stop him. We had to fight for the thousands that were cheering us on. The patient and self-destructive path to peace was not much an option...

I saw him in a field of flowers for our last battle. I asked him once again to stop. If he were to be executed after turning himself in, at least he would have the chance of redemption in the seven hells - to return to our planet with a new chance at life, one I would do anything to protect. I told him this. I pleaded him.

“Me and you.. We’re the same, aren’t we?” he spoke. “Mine and Thine - We art the same!” I shouted. Zenos smiled. “Two beasts of war.” Tears dripped down my cheeks. “Two with the choice to change.”

It was not a battle to me, only a sad goodbye. He lifted his sword to his neck. I screamed in anguish. I begged him not to slit his own throat. For the first time, he smiled. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. But he ignored me once again. He said he wanted to die feeling this feeling of bliss. I could never understand. “Goodbye, my first friend.”

“My enemy.”

-

For the first time, I touched Zenos with my own hands, not in violence. My hands shook as I cradled his still warm body, I desperately tried to heal his wounds - no avail. No matter how much I didn’t want to accept it, he was dead. I didn’t even get the choice to bring him in. I hated this. I couldn’t believe this. Arc put his hand on my shoulder. I violently shrugged it off. I didn’t want to hear his objections right now. ”A tyrant is dead. Brother.. You cannot show yourself like this.” After a moment, I sighed heavily, and wiped the tears from my face. ”I... I know.” I had to smile for the people. I was their hope, after all. I had to stay optimistic. This was.. still a good thing. A good thing overall.. A good thing... I kept repeating it in my head as if to convince myself. Arc was right, wasn’t he?

- Despite it all, I couldn’t sit still. I snuck away as Arc slept.

I personally saw to his burial. I knew the rights. I studied as a thaumaturge for this exact purpose. I was no black mage, only a priest in training, one who had to abandon that life quickly as I realized fighting helped more. A decision I regretted had to exist. I saw to his burial personally. My peers told me to disguise myself as to not arouse the anger from the locals I had just saved. I obliged. But I know the gods would know who I am. I knew they would grant him the smallest of mercy if I prayed hard enough. Hydaelyn might hear me.

-

I found myself at ‘home’ again. The café felt especially empty that day, despite it always being empty. I sat and listened to the tick-tocking of the grandfather clock. The seconds seemed to go by especially slowly. The ticks felt deafening. I picked up my sketchbook and drew a portrait of the beautiful tragic prince. Leaning the book against the heavy vase, at least now I could drink tea with him. Even though I know he’s not here.

Arc’s words repeated in my head. It was for the best, right? But brother.. I still failed. This was my fault. I could not save him. I couldn’t even bring him in. What kind of paladin am I? What kind of hero can’t save the ones who need the most to be saved? At least I’ll be hydrated. I chuckled through choking tears. I never had you, but I never wanted to lose what you could have been. What a pathetic man I am, to wish for the impossible.. But I don’t ever want to believe it was really impossible. What a contradiction I am.

-

A man named Asahi confronted me. He told me it was my fault Zenos died. He called his killer. He told me he would never forgive me. I tried to explain that I tried to, with all my might, to save him from his own death. But that wouldn’t get to him. I am just an enemy of Garleans. A killer of men. Just like Zenos. The cycle of war and death would never end. Maybe he wouldn’t listen because I barely believed my own words. I felt so horrible.

At this time, Yotsuyu seemed to have been reborn. I told my brother - Even if ‘twere an act, mayhap she truly wished to become a new person. A person of peace, and eating sweets and tea.. For that reason, I would protect Tsuyu with my life. I would do anything to help her. I would fight entire armies to protect her innocence at this time. I didn’t care what others thought. Maybe - just maybe - I could finally save someone who was responsible for so much misery, just like Zenos. She had such potential. And the more I spoke to my allies, the brighter her future seemed to be. But just like Zenos, she ended up giving in to her miserable existence and chose death, like it was inevitable. Her only option. “This is who I am.” she said. I could barely feel bad for Asahi’s disappearance from this world. Am I really such a useless man? Was this really inevitable?! What is the point of all of this if it’s really only going to be like this?!

-

Maxima was a man of peace. One of Garlean descent, no less. A man of the Garlean embassy. I trusted him. I don’t ever want to lose him. He’ll be my friend forever. Please fight this ideology of war with me, Maxima.

-

“He’s... gone?” The grave of Zenos was empty. The rumors of Ascian posession were true. I felt the world melt away as anger overtook me. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t see. It wasn’t fair. He died in happiness. I got to see him smile for the first time. The smile I would cherish for the rest of my life, even if it were for such a cruel ending. I felt my body move on it’s own, ready to fight. I could barely feel Arc place his hand on my chest to stop me and ask me where I was going. If I couldn’t have him live peacefully, why couldn’t he at least die as he wished? All he had? The only thing that mattered to him? Did that feeling matter nothing?! Even if his life was a complete tragedy, could they not have let him die as he wished!? The only peaceful thing he ever did?! What can I do? My allies stop me. They tell me even if I wished to, I could do nothing. A warrior of light walking into Garlean terrority would be suicide. All I could do is wait. So I’ll wait for you. You better come see me - So I can kick your ass out of my friend’s body and let him rest for once and for all! I will never forgive you!

#writing #alus beauregard #zenos yae galvus #wol x zenos #kinda? #ffxiv #stormblood spoilers #sb spoilers #post-stormblood spoilers #shb spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #i legit had a dream the other night abt zenos & alus sitting and drinking tea and discussing psychopathic philosophy #it was really nice ;_; #THE ANGST IS REAL

[maewestside]

KEEP YA HEAD UP: Legends Never Die, They Just Multiply

by Heidi Siegmund Cuda aka Maewestside

Every time you hear a 2Pac song, he’s reborn again. Each time another street-fighting hopeful enters the ring, Muhammad Ali lifts the rope.

We are the City of Angels, and angels are everywhere, sending indirect signs, helping us to keep our head up even in moments of great despair.

That love you feel for Kobe Bryant, that’s something special, something to carry in your heart. As long as he’s in your heart, he lives on forever.

Legends never die, they just multiply—schoolyard poets, writing licks on scraps of paper at recess; middle school athletes blessed with talent working as if they had none, because that’s what Kobe did.

The lessons they left behind, schooling us, a piece lives on in every heart that beats.

TO LIVE AND DIE IN LA

The impromptu weeklong memorial for Kobe and his daughter Gianna brought out the angels en masse. A courteousness and a grace permeated the crowd of mourners, decked out in that incongruous pairing of gold and plum, forgiven by aesthetes because the colors have come to embody greatness.

Anyone who saw Kobe play knows he’s legend. I got to see a 65-point game on March 16, 2007, where the Lakers were down by seven points in the last minute and a half, and with grace and ease, Kobe just kept nailing those three-pointers, leading the Lakers to victory over Portland. I remember thinking that he was the most graceful court dancer I’d ever seen, only learning this week just how hard he worked for those moves.

SHED SO MANY TEARS

Kobe once said, “I was blessed with talent though I worked as if I had none.”

That right there. Legends work hard. We only see the results. Fred Astaire glided across the dance floor as if on clouds of air, but the perfection was the result of endless practice.

Muhammad Ali danced like a butterfly and stung like a bee because he trained six days a week, shadow boxing, pounding the bag, sparring—not because he liked it but because he knew if he didn’t quit, he’d live the rest of his life as a champion. Word.

In the last year of his life, 2Pac would tell his driver to pull over so he could jump out and grab a spiral bound notebook, lyrics flooding out of him that he had to capture, instinctively knowing his time on earth might be short. His poetry, forever etched into our consciousness.

MAN OF THE PEOPLE

On night number five in downtown, the Kobe vigil was in full swing. Family units, travelers from Nicaragua and Tallahassee, women in stilettos, cuz, you never know. Vendors selling Kobe scarves, churros, handmade key chains, bacon wrapped hot dogs, his image etched on wood carvings, tshirts with the wings that were tattooed on his bicep now adorning his back.

I stopped for a pair of street tacos, asking the women preparing them what Kobe meant to her. She told me, “He spent time with us, the people, you know. He wasn’t above anyone.”

She said he stopped by her restaurant and refused to jump the line, telling her to treat him just like another customer. She wiped away a tear with her gloved hand, as I put four bucks in her fanny pack. There’s little doubt in my mind Kobe would have appreciated the entrepreneurism his tragedy inspired in the locals.

I walked through the streets admiring the freshly inked arms, reflecting how we mourn in L.A., with tattoos and paint, body canvas and abandoned buildings. Even if you didn’t hear the news that Sunday morning, all you had to do was drive through the streets, the handiwork of taggers already paying tribute. “RIP Kobe,” in Olde English, covering aged bricks.

HOW TO BE A MAN

“Dear Kobe, thank you for teaching me how to be a man, on and off the court,” wrote a fan on the canvas outside Staples Center. On a scrap of binder paper next to a flickering candle with “Long Live Kobe” written in sharpie, a mourner wrote a four stanza poem, the third stanza reading: “Oh what it means, to be a dad, Oh what it means, to rise from bad.”

At their best, legends make us better people. They make us work harder, strive for more and teach us to overcome adversity.

L.A. is an imperfect place, beautiful and flawed. The legends that spring from here are brilliant, beautiful and flawed. But it’s the brilliance and beauty that stay with us.

CALIFORNIA LOVE

The world is mourning the loss of a legend, but L.A. is mourning the loss of family. The kindness of strangers that permeates the downtown vigil is a moment for L.A. and one I cherish.

Kobe murals are popping up throughout the city, a sea of post-its creating a rainbow of love. So much raw beauty in this City of Angels.

As long as there’s a can of paint, the whirring of needles and archival footage, Kobe Bryant, like Pac and Ali, will flame eternal.

***

Author Heidi Siegmund Cuda wrote the first book of rap, “The Ice Opinion” with Ice T; and “Got Your Back”, with the bodyguard of 2Pac. She also authored “Crazy Fool: Portrait of a Punk” about Sublime’s Bradley Nowell, and “Definition of Down” with Darlene Ortiz, an original b-girl and Ice T’s first wife.

[elvesofnoldor]

not to rant about highly idealized and highly romanticized and therefore unrealistic and fairy-tale like medieval fantasy elven royalties aka shits no one follows me cares about yet again, but like, these days im so into the concept of tolkien AU in which aredhel and luthien fell in love and married each other. it’d messed up the entire timeline in his universe cause it can probably prevent the doom of mandos from coming to pass, prolong first age, therefore utterly change second age and third age and the events of lotr and the hobbit but do i look like i give a shit abt events of lotr and the hobbit? i care more about a story in which two gay women’s love for each other and desire to live free of men in their lives save the day, mend two divided people and possibly prevent the doom of angry god from coming to pass. Also it’s bullshit that Aredhel’s entire story is about how she got lured to live with this abusive asshole man and that man killed her and her son brought ruins to her people, like, she deserves better and this AU would give her a better story. i also know this au’d make beren and Eol irrelevant and Maeglin non-existent but these are three men and tolkien’s universe is already crowded with men, so if an AU can make more women important and gets rid of some unnecessary men then i’d say that’s a good AU.  

Also, Aredhel and Luthien’s relationship would be like, the elven huntress (Aredhel) and the elven Maiden (Luthien). not to bring in dragon age lore, but they’d be like, the Andruil and Ghilan’nain we (dragon age fans) deserve. except that, unlike Andruil and Ghilan’nain, Aredhel and Luthien are good people aka NOT tyrants and slavers (lmao). 

just, Imagine luthien, princess of Doriath, taking a liking of aredhel when she spots the handsome warrior princess from the woods of doriath when aredhel tries to gain passage through her father’s kingdom. That has the same vibe as morrigan watching female warden in her animal form and finding her “formidable”, and i REALLY dig this vibe. Imagine luthien, curious about a noldor elf--whom she never really get to know--uses her magic to open a passage for aredhel to enter Doriath when aredhel is being pursued by vicious giant spiders and greets her once she reaches safety. Imagine the two princesses learn of each other’s different elven cultures within the woods of Doriath, falling in love with each other in each other’s company.  Imagine Aredhel, while enjoying luthien’s companionship, still longs to once more rides on open grassy plains (which was the reason she left Gondolin in the first place). Imagine the sheltered luthien, having heard Aredhel’s tales of adventure at Tirion and dwellings of noldor in Valinor, wishes more than ever to see the world and the noldor realms outside the cirdle of her mother Melian. Imagine Aredhel proposes that both she and Luthien leave Doriath together so that both of them can see the outside world, and Luthien hesitating out of fear of her controlling father’s wrath. Imagine Aredhel saying something along the lines of, “must we live in the shadow of fathers and brothers in our life? Must we ignore our heart’s desire to abide by theirs? is that the life you wish to live forever?” to pursuit Luthien to leave. Imagine that Luthien still hesitating after that and Aredhel decides to find her way out of the forest. Imagine luthien, forlorn from the absence of her dear friend whom she discover that she held too dear to her heart, comes to her mother in the time of doubt and heartache. Imagine Melian, having known about Aredhel’s presence by her daughter’s side this entire time, helps luthien to get out of forests of Doriath with Aredhel despite her own distrust of noldor elves (due to the first kinslaying they committed), because she wants her daughter to be happy above all and deep down she think it’s wiser if the two divided people can be reunited. Imagine Aredhel, the white lady of Gondolin and Luthien, the princess of Doriath, finally settles on a land of their own somewhere on beleriand, say, the land where havens of Sirion would be, or lindon. It’d be a land under the Luthien’s magical protection, guarded by the rider/warriors Aredhel gathered throughout the years. Imagine the land that Aredhel and Luthien rules later becoming a place of haven of refugee for elves and men alike fleeing from the lands that morgroth’s minions now occupied. Luthien doesn’t get roped into a quest for silmaril, and neither does finrod so finrod doesn’t die. Finrod’s kingdom probably still falls and gets sacked out of some other reason but he survives. Thingol still died from some sort of dispute with the dwarves--even thought there is no involvement of Silmaril, but Doriath doesn’t get invaded by anyone. Melian doesn’t abandon Doriath after Thingol’s death, and rather she stayed for her children (dior and luthien) and Doriath is still safe under her rule. Maybe Gondolin stills falls because of some other reasons, maybe battle of unnumbered tears still happened in some form because Morgorth’s minions are encroaching on noldor realms either way and noldor elves would suffer from heavy losses anyways so it’s kinda unpreventable that maedhros would want to unify everybody for a final strike against him. But say, fingon doesn’t die from the battle despite the heavy losses because finrod’s host and elves of doriath are present at the battle and their involvement allows fingon to retreat successfully. Instead of fingon, celegorm curufin canrathir and the ambraussa twins died in the battle of unnumbered tears. The noldor elves held their own for longer and the first age is like at least a decade if not a hundred year longer but War of wrath still happens at the end of the first age. However, more noldor elves that suffered in the war of jewels against morgorth survived, and most of them had the strength and willingness to fight in the war of wrath when finarfin’s host finally comes to their aid from the west. With the host of valar and finarfin’s help, the noldor elves gathered the three silmarils from a defeated Morgroth. Maedhros and Maglor either gather the silmarils themselves or they were given the silmarils but neither of them want anything to do with the silmarils anymore. Now that they have fulfilled the oath, both of them allowed the three silmarils to be taken back to Valinor and two trees were reborn on valinor upon their breaking, and now it makes more sense that valinor still counts as the undying lands. Maedhros doesn’t kill himself, maglor doesn’t sing in grief by the sea forever and all the former noldor lords who survived war of jewel and war of wrath brought their people to the land/haven under Luthien and Aredhel’s rule and protection, whose realm still stand because of luthien’s magical protection and her mother Melian’s additional help. Elrond and Elros doesn’t lose their mother, but Earendil still went on that journey to find the valinor and brought the valars’ aid to middle earth and become a star in the sky so they don’t have their father. The twins still grow close to maglor either way, and maglor, pitying the fatherless twins and missing his youngest twin brothers, still cherishes the twins as if they are his own children.  Tears are still shed, bloody battles are still fought, and the noldor (and in this au, sindarin) elves still suffered heavy losses, but there is catharsis at the tale’s end. More people survived, more people get to leave for the west, and those who fought against morgroth for thousands of years get to participate in the war of wrath. Noldor elves still left middle earth en masse at the end of first age and second and third age, but there are more noldor realms on middle earth than eregion by the time second age comes. Elves would still all left middle earth by the end of fourth age. And maybe a few noldor elves like Maedhros and Maglor are not pardoned to return to valinor or simply wishes not to return out of shameor pride (in galadriel’s case), but they helped in the war against sauron in some way and eventually all redeemed themselves in the eyes of valar from helping to defend the men of middle earth against sauron, servant of morgroth and were allowed to return eventually, at the end of third age.  imagine the friendship between fingon and maedhros brought hundred years of peace between their divided family, and the love between luthien and aredhel brought two people divide people together and brought hundred years more of peace for all of their people. 

#luthien/aredhel AU is like. silmarillion as written by gay girls #gay girl is me but i didn't come up with the idea of luthien/aredhel. another person did. very legendary of them #yolanda talks #should put this long post under read more but idc #i read silmarillion for the first time at the age of 13 and it took me 10 years to flesh out a fix it au but HEY

[arriving-hell-on-heels]

Soulmates

Okay, so. I just started watching Voltron and recently I happened to stumble across @scarlet47 ‘s “Soulmates” comic and I loved it so much and then this idea came into my head. It is a little drable inspired in the comic, here Harry and Draco don’t look for each other but regret it in their next life. 

also in Ao3

In their fourth life they put on a charade, none of them brave enough to fight for their love, for their fate. From the beginning they went on opposite paths as to avoid the inevitable attraction, it didn’t work. Potter was pulled to the “right” side, he was the epitome for everything pure and good; just as Malfoy was pulled to the “wrong” side. It took them forever to realize none of that was actually them, none of that meant anything to them until it all went too far and they both realized when they were too deep into it. And Malfoy could never turn into Draco and much less into his, and Potter could never turn into Harry and much less into mine.

But don’t let them lie, they both remembered. They just weren’t brave enough to pursue what they deserved, but they did remember the times they had tried to be together but couldn’t and later they would remember the time they could have but wouldn’t. Harry fought and won that war, he was the good guy. He found a family, found a home, married the right girl and had some kids with her. Then things got awkward as his wife and he realized they had just done what was expected not what they wanted, and they both realized family didn’t mean that, his family was there anyway, they would always be there. So they divorced and one night he woke up with a face covered in tears and a lump on his throat the only thing preventing a scream and that name hunting his mind. His. That name which could never be uttered sickening his very soul.

Draco, seemingly, lost that war, he was the bad guy, the bad guy who turned to good, kind of; He remembered before him. He remembered during the war. But life was already too complicated, so he only had to get him out of there alive. That was his win, to get him to live. So, that night, when his aunt held him, of course him it was obviously him, against his face and asked to deliver him to death, he couldn’t; he couldn’t see his soulmatedie in front of him once more. So he expected to die, die keeping him alive, but he didn’t, he lived. He lived and he had to live to see him marry the right girl and consequently he did the same. It was not as easy for him, but he found a wife, an… adequate one. A wife so adequate that she died after giving him a heir. Did her duty and relieved him of his, allowing him to be fond of her and cherish their offspring in peace.

And both alone lived to see their sons be braver than they were, Draco could see his son’s Potter become a Malfoy and Harry got in his son’s happiness all the clarification he needed for his own case. Although, his time was gone by, he had lost his chance in this life; besides, he surely didn’t remember, right?

At least Draco’s wish came true, he didn’t see him die this time. Harry died holding Hermione’s hand and with all his children crying around his bed, she would still live under their care for a couple of years before following her best mate and her husband who had died some years prior.  Draco went in a similar way but being the last of his friends just his son and Albus were there to hold him.

Both went away quietly unlike the other times. Then they are reborn.

They were reborn and this time Harry was called Keith and he had lost his buddy, Shiro, but he ran into him just as he found Shiro again. And HarryKeith couldn’t remember his other names so he was missed alongside those. Even though, like last time, they didn’t get along very well at first. He was called Lance this time and his eyes shone blue, not gray, and his skin was bronze and his words were smooth. And when Keith found (Ron, no, not Ron,) Shiro, they ran into another war, now through technology, not magic. But this time, oh this time, at least they were on the same side of the war.

So, his Lance, (no Keith, he’s not your Lance just yet) was so blue now, not green even if Harry Keith was still so red, and he couldn’t recognize him neither but they still bickered so much, so fucking much. Because Draco Lance, was so adorable infuriating, and he… and he always kept flirting with any life form they encountered! But of course Keith was not jealous! He is just so… sexy. Quiznak! Keith is so fucked. Isn’t he?

In comparison, Keith was more, much more, stubborn than Harry. But, to Keith’s disadvantage, Lance’s flirting turned out highly effective. Yes, they are paladins of Voltron now, and yes, they are going to save the universe, and yes, it so happened that they flew through space in a castle-ship, bonding, and being just… right, and they happened to be soulmates. Of course they were going to end up in love, even if they didn’t remember. Luckily they did.

Keith came first this time,  just after the castle had tried to kill them, after he nearly saw Lance, his lance, be sucked into space, after he had saved him before even knowing who he was saving. And Keith wanted to run and hold his, his Lance. He wanted to hit himself into oblivion for not realizing he had his soulmate so close, for not getting him when he had had the chance before. He wished he could go hit Harry for not running into Draco when he could have. But first, first he had to figure out if Lance remembered.

Which he didn’t, Lance didn’t remember until deep into the relationship. Keith had tried everything. First he made sure he didn’t remember (“yet” he told himself) by making him choose between red and green. Red, evidently he didn’t remember Draco. Keith even tried bringing back some of their older lives: the kingdom, the army, the hospital… nothing, it all seemed distant to Lance. So Keith gave up attempting to bring back the past and focused on building a future. A future he wanted with Lance.

Lance remembered him after a long period on a healing pod. Of course what he needed to remember their past lives was nearly scaring his boyfriend to death. When he was recovered and fell into his arms with an I love you. He encountered a nearly broken Keith so it took a couple of days of enforced rest for Keith to notice the slight change.

Took them long enough. But, at the end, they found each other, they felt in love; over, and over and over again and, at the end, they died together, holding each other into oblivion.

#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Harry James Potter #voltron #keith (voltron) #keith kogane #keith #lance mcclain #lance #lance (voltron) #drarry #klance #soulmate #my trash

[andrearadya]

die trying

I’ve always been trapped by my own yeses. For many years I have been struggling to run away and make my own decisions, but most of time what I really wanted was always untouchable and I almost always came out injured in traumas I picked up without my own control.

I often had to be reborn again and over again with scars and bruises which were moderately relieved. I thought I was going to be okay, right then, now, and tomorrow. I knew I was just going to survive, come what may, but in the end of my second decade I was thrown in a war; having to fight with broken, stabbed, and torn mentality inside with revealed bitter truth surrounding me.

I remember the times when I almost had everything that I wanted in my hands; only the things I really wanted to undertake. They picked me up, the carriage was full of rubies and diamonds, and I knew my palace was going to be a huge successful peace. I was there, standing with my chances, thinking I was already doing the right things.

However, in a blink of an eye, pretenders took my life, my heart, my sanity. I was implicitly requested to take a part in a battle I didn’t recognize well. I didn’t know the field yet. I didn’t know how to survive- how to survive with all the choices I had made previously. The whole thing was outrageous; Had I run away with saying no, I would’ve been in a better, calmer place, inside my palace in my throne, but it’s said that their enemies would have chased me harder, created deeper holes of regrets in me, and emerged in my nightmares every night. I had a choice, truth be known, but the force was too dominating. I could’ve said no and goodbye for my own sake, but I’d have been seen as a traitor, apathy worshipper, or selfish wreckage.

I only looked back at my previous aims and destinations and at this moment I completely cannot forgive that version of me- the version of me when I finally turned my back on the things I planned on prioritizing. I left them, the people whom I was going to support fully with all of my sincerity, because I stupidly couldn’t think better. I messed it all up, for months I was destroyed mentally, frustrated, surrounded by uncertainties, bitter plans, killed chances, insisted to show another version of me which wasn’t even there. And I left my palace; the throne I used to have, the plans I wanted to make huge, the dreams I thought was going to be my priorities. I left them. For an insisted exhaustion. For something I was never meant to be or do, something I didn’t wanna be for my sake. Maybe the worst case not only stopped there, but the fact that I actually didn’t feel embraced enough and how the whole troops were also on the edge.

The whole thing, to be honest, took almost everything that I could and would be. Yes, maybe I gained some other accomplishments that I could be proud of as well, but was it the best year for my mental health? Was it all worth my fatigue? Was it easy to run? Maybe you tell me. Perhaps this time I really related to Ariana Grande’s speech when she said that a year had been really good for her career, but it was the worst for her life. Maybe it’s what I was feeling all year long.

Still trying to accomplish my other main dreams, I risked my health- spiritually, mentally, and physically. I’m just going to state those here, because it’s no good to keep it all locked explosively inside of me. I started having depression since April-May 2019, every single day I was out of energy, I experienced chronic extreme fatigue, hypersomnia, suicidal thoughts, recurrent self injuries, and I lost my interest to the things I used to really, really love the most- playing piano, drawing, painting- All I did was thinking that they’re going to be useless and anyway I would not get any way outs by doing those- I was trapped, unable to set myself free, even to reach my help and relievers. My ambitions were shut down, I still kept on fighting for several achievements, but do you know? Most of time I was under pressure. My mind was always branched. I couldn’t focus that much. I couldn’t have enough rest. I slept in classes, my friends saw it and got startled I did. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t know where to go- with all the business and accomplishments that I had- I wasn’t happy. I was tired. Drained. Burned out. No way out, it was impossible.

My mental state was still progressing until November 2019- when I pushed everyone away, even my closest best friends, from me. I isolated myself, ran away from the crowds, and chose to stay alone anytime and anywhere. I didn’t wanna interact. I didn’t feel like I needed some company. I left some people without goodbyes. Everything around me really trapped me. Ripped me apart into pieces I didn’t recognize anymore. I wasn’t sad- I was all empty, hollow, numb, and useless. Hideously, I also experienced revealed hurtful truths, got more stabs to my heart and soul, and got left by the people who thought that their own business were more important than the war we should struggle for. I felt all alone, every social interactions felt phony and unreal, and all I wanted was just to see everything finished. Or if needed, I thought, maybe I’d just go and die to make things better. I wanted to terminate everything so bad, I didn’t care if it’s going to change everything. I just wanted to take a rest and long sleep for the very last time- to terminate everything.

Burdened harshly by stress, I finally tried to be a bit rude toward the reality. I tried to fight back with every chance left in me, I tried to cherish my dignity, the fact that I was much, much stronger than feeling like an insisted slave. My last minutes holding the disastrous throne were still spent in unrealistically harsh slavery and force, but I finally made it out alive. I came out alive- left with depression, anhedonia, avolition, post-trauma stress disorder, nightmares, regrets, remained mistakes, and my heart pieces. I breathed as an injured wreckage trying not to drown in an ocean. I was still alive- but it’s just it. I still pushed some people away from my life, I became a stranger to every single pupil gradually. I was more like finally drowned, instead of being found floating on the surface.

Took months for me, even to this moment, to heal myself, my thoughts, and faith. However, it may take years, maybe forever to forgive all the regrets, the fact that I turned my back on the things I said I would survive with, and the sources of the pain. Once I promised I would give my all to the things I prioritized; turned out it never happened. People got disappointed, people got rejected, people got neglected, because I thought I would fight with them. They thought I had love that much for them- Turned out I walked away, fighting for an unworthy war. It’ll take many years for me to forgive and to say sorry. It will take so many chances. Years. Decades. And maybe they’re unforgettable.

At this moment, maybe I’d like to ask myself how I am actually feeling right now. However, maybe it’s not that prominent anymore. Maybe it’s time for all of us or the ones who’ve gone through the same story to dodge saying yes too much,  to keep prioritizing what’s best for us, to ignore unimportant and unhealthy opportunities, and to save ourselves. Save yourself, sometimes saying a big NO is worth the losing chance more than gaining regrets and injured mental in the end.

[acarnivalofstars]

Ensemble Stars Event Translation: Magical Halloween Epilogue

I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE HERE AT THE END I’M SO EMOTIONAL Y’ALL THANK YOU FOR BELIEVING (or maybe you didn’t but that’s ok you can start now) IN US AND OUR STUPID LOVE FOR VALKYRIE now if you’ll excuse me I have to go cry into my Mika manjuu

This was (cries) a joint project between me and my Shu for life, Dreamy! Thank you for all the support and love you’ve shown us throughout this journey!! 

It’s finally time for Valkyrie’s Live. Shu and Mika have a special conversation between the two of them before Natsume cuddles up to Shu. Mika gets jealous of Shu doting on him and we get one of the most iconic Mika lines in the game next to him threatening to punch Eichi. When will your fave ever.

[Halloween Party Stage Floor V]

Shu: (Hmph. You certainly know how to make someone fearful, young lad.)

(This is why I dislike colluding with another "unit." Involving yourself with others merely drags you down. Everyone should quickly realize this worldly truth.)

(Even so… I`m glad that he seems happy.)

(Rei, Wataru, Kanata… Were we able to protect that precious thing?)

Mika: Oshi-san, once the music that's playin' right now ends, it'll be our turn. We gotta get ready~ Though, I don`t even need to say that.

Oshi-san is always perfect after all ♪

Shu: Kagehira.

I`ve caused a lot of trouble for you up until now, haven`t I?

Mika: Eh, what's with this all of a sudden? Oshi-san, you've been actin' strange recently~ What's the matter? Are ya dyin'?

Shu: Be mindful of your words, you brainless fool.

....Mademoiselle has not been replying to me very much as of late, you see. It seems that even I have possibly become slightly weak of heart.

Not to mention Nito has left my grasp as well...

Since I have no company to listen to my monologues, I have no choice but to talk to an inferior good such as yourself.

Mika: Ahaha. Yup, yup, it's cuz you say cruel things like that that Oshi-san is who he is~♪

Shu: For you to be happy with being showered in jeers, you must also be… You've broken down, haven't you? Aah, how gruesome.

Mika: Yeah. But even though I'm like this, Oshi-san always kept me in his grasp n` never threw me away.

Even if it was just to kill time or amuse yourself, you took someone like me, dressed me up all pretty, and held me in your arms.

That's why I can't live bein' apart from Oshi-san's warmth anymore. I'll have ya take responsibility~ We're together foreeever ♪

Even if Nazuna-nii goes somewhere far away, or Mado-nee becomes unable to speak... It's alright, I'm here. I'll be by your side forever and ever.

Even if I'm a ghastly, good-for-nothin' doll that can't do anythin'.

Shu: ....

Mika: Even if Oshi-san graduates, or even in the worst case, become unable to make anythin'...

If "Valkyrie" disappears into nothin`, even if I die, I`ll be together with Oshi-san `till the pit of Hell.

Shu: Kagehira. Why would you go that far for me...?

Mika: If ya don't understand, it`s alright.

Even though Oshi-san is attentive and has a good memory, is smart, can perfectly understand anything, and is an intelligent person, why can't ya understand the most essential things?

Shu: I cannot make heads or tails of what is what. I do not understand very well, but you certainly are cheeky for being a failure.

Mika: ...Oshi-san. Do ya remember when we met at the garbage dump a loooong time ago?

I'm sure you've forgotten, though. Or rather, maybe you've gotten me mixed up with some other person...

After all, the clothes Oshi-san put me in at that time were girl's clothes, ya see ♪

Shu: ...? I don't understand what you're saying, but we must start singing now.

You must give it your everything without relaxing. "Valkyrie's" Lives must always be perfect.

Mika: Ahaha. You don't have to say it every time, yanno. Even I've memorized it ♪

♪~♪~♪

Shu: ...Don't pointlessly dash off all of a sudden. Aah, for goodness sake, you truly are a doll that won't move the way I will it.

(Well, it's fine. Somehow, it's not a bad feeling, seeing your figure from behind like this...)

(After all, you've always been behind me, as close to me as a shadow.)

(If you stay by someone's side day and night forever... You could say both warmth and feelings change, in a sense.)

♪~♪~♪

Natsume: Ahaha. The two of you are as close as ever, aren't you Shu-nii-san? ♪

Shu: Away with you, young lad. Right now it is our turn to perform.

Natsume: It's fine, isn't IT? It`s the long awaited joint Live, after ALL… Ever since long AGO, I have wanted to stand on stage with my big broTHERS.

To be honest, it was to the point where I became jealous of Shu-nii-san's DOLLS… ♪

Shu: ...If that is what your adorable self desires, we would never refuse to do so.

Or rather, you should say those sort of things properly. It seems I suffer from a lack of consideration, apparently.

Natsume: EH, you became aware of that just NOW?!

Mika: Hey, why're ya gettin' all close with Oshi-san? Hmph, he's my Oshi-san, ya know?

Natsume: Ahaha... It seems he's saying stuff like "my Oshi-san," Shu-nii-san?

Shu: Hmph. Since I've been treating him kindly as of late he's gotten cocky. It seems he still requires tuning. Goodness, what a handful.

Pay attention, Kagehira. Your steps are 0.1 seconds slow!

Mika: Nnah? I'm sorry, Oshi-san.

Shu: I don't mind. After all, I never expected anything from you from the start, you good for nothing, eerie, distorted, failure of a doll.

Although, I suppose I can't speak for myself for holding onto such a thing with the utmost devotion.

"Although to others it may appear as a shabby and dirty doll, if  it were taken from a child, they would cry as if they were burned by fire."

"For that is just how much they cherish and love it, surely."

"You should also start being a little more conscious of that yourself… Shu-kun ♪"

Mademoiselle? Even though I did not talk to you, you spoke on your own just now, didn't you.......?

Natsume: It's Halloween, Shu-nii-san. Even monsters speak, you SEE. Ahaha...♪

Mika: Like I said, yer too close to Oshi-san! Right now is "Valkyrie's" turn~ Other people should move aside!

Right now, only Oshi-san and Oshi-san's dolls are the focus on the top of this world!

Ahaha! It's fun, isn't it Oshi-san! Let's sing and dance to our limit today as well!

Oshi-san is the world's greatest genius. His works are pieces of art that will be passed down for eternity even in the afterlife ♪

It's a masterpiece! That's why this moment will become an eternity! No matter how many times we die and are reborn, forever and for all of eternity!

We're always together `till the end of this world comes, Oshi-san~♪

Aah, I'm so happy! I wonder if it's alright for me to be this happy… ♪

#ensemble stars #enstars #あんさんぶるスターズ！ #あんスタ #karen tries to translate

[magicfeatherspecialist]

Tsubasa Chronicle Month: Day 8 - Oaths and Vows

“I will…I made a promise to protect Sakura”

The words are almost too strong and determined for the tiny, damaged boy who says them. His eyes are full of desperation and fear; but also with the shine of stubborn determination, born of hope of saving the most important person in his life, even if that means giving up his happiness and family. The witch will grant his wish, knowing it’s just the start of an even bigger, painful road; but her job is never to intervene, but to give people what they want. And hopefully, if all goes well, these choices will lead to a brighter future for both of these children. 

The seal meant to end the princess’ life, inevitably, activates. And the boy feels his oath being broken. From desperation comes a wish: to turn back time. The price is high, the consequences catastrophic, and all the pain and despair he will be accountable for, too much. They can’t be together, not yet, maybe not ever. But he still wishes, because he has a promise, because he won’t let her die.

 *******

“Even if you were able to return all her memories back, the part about you won’t return. That’s your price”

“I will go…I won’t let Sakura die!”

The boy is not the one who came to the witch’s shop years ago and at the same time he is. He’s a clone of that determined little boy, and it shows in the way he clings to the princess’ body, how it just takes one look at her face to make the choice that will shatter his own happiness. His oath mirrors the one made by his real self, in a sad repetition of fate.

“Who are you?”  The question, the eyes who look at him like an stranger, feel like knives straight to his heart. But he smiles nevertheless; because she’s alive, but lost and with her soul missing, only a shadow of the person he knew; and she needs him to be strong right now. The price for his promise is too high once again, they’re still together in body, but it feels like they’re miles apart.

*******

“I will surely be punished, because I did all this….but even so, I want to get back the heart you’ve lost, Syaoran-kun”

Her body is soaked in blood, her damaged leg sends painful aches all over her body, and her feet ache for the acid she walking on. But she does not falter in her resolve. No matter the price, nor than doing so will only advance the plans of that man further, but she owes him that, and she will get him back.

His sword is on her chest the next time they meet. She’s melting away and her confession is being cut down again. But his eyes look at her with pure horror and fear. It hurt to see him like this, but at the very least, those are not the eyes of a person without a heart. She’s been successful in the worst way possible. He holds him until they depart again, hoping he will see him again, in much better circumstances.

*******

“With this power, I swear I will find the way out of this loop”

“Until we can meet again, I will be waiting”

This time, it was a shared vow the one who put them apart. For the sake of their other selves, they once again sacrificed the lives they had made. They will spend a long time in this vessel, so close and yet unable to even touch, all for the sake of a still unknown outcome.  A terrible price to be paid again, but for their son, for their friends from their other life and to stop that man from destroying everything they love, they will bear being separated again.

(And they know, when Fei Wang disappears, they will too. Though, their other selves would do something about that, they’re sure. They’re two versions of the same people, after all)

*****

“We will definitely meet again”

Their journey together had ended, and a new one began. In order to keep existing without altering the time and space, both of the existences that should not exist paid. To always move forward, and never stay in one place was her most precious person’s price. He will use that journey to try and give their other selves new bodies to reborn to. And she knows if she goes with him, it would just be more painful. So he starts his travel, luckily, with the rest of their companions beside him (and for that she will forever be grateful). They give each other their true names, and they make a final promise.

Hopefully, even if they can’t be together forever, they will wait for each other and cherish the moments when they meet. That’s their final vow, and they swear this one will be as free of pain as possible.

#tsubasachroniclemonth #trc #syaosaku #sakura #syaoran #princess tsubasa #tsubasa li #trcmonth #damn it #i took a relatively neutral prompt and made it into syaosaku angst #i'm awful #i'm not sure i used the prompt right tho #i just went with the textbook definition of the two words and took a lot of freedom #don't you ever think that all the promise these two make for each other end on being separated? #and then cry for a few months?

[hydrogen29]

May and November

Thank God for another life ahead.

May 29, 2017.

I took a leave from work. I celebrated my birthday at a coffee shop. Reading book. Sipping coffee. Two coffee shops. Merely 6hours.

By the time I got home, I feel like I need to use the bathroom. So I did. Later that night, I feel my stomach aching veru bad. I feel numbness in my arms. I feel like Im going to die. I asked my sister to be ready as I might need to go to the hospital. Few minutes later, I was okay and I go back to sleep.

Few weeks following, I still encounter the same feeling. Numbness of the arms. Stomach ache. Vomiting. I consulted doctors and later found out I am having Acid Reflux. I was prohibited from various kinds of food, including coffee.

Later did I realize, that was my last day of drinking coffee. That day changes me forever. Im gonna miss drinking coffee.

May 29, 2018.

Since the last year incident of which I thought Im going to die, I thank God I made it to another year. I always thought He had given me another life. He had reborn me in a special way.

So in my 26th birthday, I thank Him so much. For this another life.

I remembered praying also thanking Him that despite my dreams of getting married at 25 and not happening since I am turning 26, I am still lucky to know a lot of people who values me and loves me so much.

November 10, 2018.

Weeks before, I was diagnosed having Enlarged Tonsils. I was asked by my doctor to have it removed. So I did.

The surgery went well. I was actually not feeling nervous that moment compared to days before when I always thought I am going to die.

By Gods grace, I survived and recupering now very well.

From there, I realize, death is always around the corner. You should always be careful but aside from that, you should always life life to the fullest. Enjoy everything you have. Cherish every moment. Live as if everyday is your last day. That is the beauty of life. :) You would never guess things. Everything is spontaneous. Everything matters. Everything is connected.

Thank God for another life. I am always in awe of your unending grace.

[magnoliasandbeardedtooth]

you should talk about your ocs! please... tell me about them...

hooh boy you don’t know what you just started

rubs hands together

Oliver, Julian, and Lucus are part of a kind-of-real-life universe that my friend made up for his elsen oc’s (I made them specifically for that new universe, out I also rly rly love elsen so they have OFF versions too) These are my main ones, the ones I think about daily, the ones I will cherish forever

I had literal paragraphs for these guys but I cut them down cause it was a fuckin book

Oliver is my top #1 oc, I love him so much. He’s really fuckin tall, and is the softest nicest person ever. He’s that one guy that is terrifying when he’s angry because he rarely ever is. He wears nothing but sweater and will die of heatstroke before he takes one off. His favorite color is pink. He doesn’t get enough sleep and works 2 full time jobs, at a hardware store in the mornings and at an arcade evenings. When the fair comes around in summer, he works weekends there too. He’s bad at cooking cause he only has time for coffee, microwave diners, and his girlfriend (who is teaching him how to cook).In OFF, he’s a carnival worker in Zone 2, and is dead insideHe was created specifically for my friend’s oc, Eli, who is his girlfriend and they love each other so gosh dang much. He is also Lucus’s and Julian’s kind-of-father-figure (and used to be their cushion, until Eli told him she wasn’t comfortable with seeing them so physically intimate without her, and he respected her and asked them to stop, which they did)

Lucus is Loud Boy. He has severe ADHD and is Gay As Fuck. He is almost always smiling and laughing. He’s the one who always gets in trouble, but everyone loves him cause he’s super nice and rambunctious. He’s the one who goes to Pride almost naked. He’s even worse at cooking than Oliver. Like, most people who are bad at cooking get the reaction “Oh whatever, it’s a mess, but it’s mostly edible.” His is “God jesus please don’t let him touch anything in the kitchen, please lord.” He works as a mailman, but only the guy who takes the package and puts it next to the door, cause he can’t drive, even he knows it’s a bad idea for him to try. He also can’t remember if his name is actually Lucas or Lucus, but he’s been writing “Lucus” for as long as he could remember, and no one corrected him, so he just rode with it.In OFF, he’s one of the postal workers in Zone 1, and he opens letters, reads them, throws them out, and steals from his coworkers’ quotas.

Julian is Sour Boy. He’s quiet, anxious, depressed, bitter, and guarded. He’s not mean, but he’s very scared of people as has become bitter as a sort of defense for when people dislike him, which he thinks is often. He’s very quietly polite, though, and though he has a lot of trouble being close to someone, and once he does he’s very warm. He’s also very witty and has insane clap backs, like he’s the one that destroys people (Lucus fucking loves it). He rly loves hanging things like mobiles, and his ceiling is covered with them. He works at a butcher’s shop, but because of how cheap and terrible his boss is, he cuts himself on the bad equipment a lot, so his arms are covered in small scars (not from self harm though).In OFF, he works as one of those people who take the metal from the cow halves, which is where he cuts his hands. When he finds a piece he rly likes, he’ll take it and hang it up in his home.

Julian and Lucus are qpp, they’re so fucking tight. They met in college, and have been roommates ever since, but soon after they got an apartment, they started sleeping in the same bed. Lucus used to have a crazy crush on Julian, but Julian is ace aro, and Lucus respected his boundaries and values him too much to be away from him. In turn, Julian respects when Lucus rly needs sexual attention and goes to pick someone up. Julian supports Lucus, and Lucus encourages Julian, to the point where they save each other’s lives. I like to say that Julian keep Lucus from burning alive, and Lucus keep Julian from freezing to death.

I could write a WHOLE LOT MORE about them but that’d be nutsALRIGHT then there’s also Jamie and Annie, who are a couple that met online, and now either visit each other often, or have moved in together, I can’t rly decide which.

Jamie is a trans boy, and started transitioning back in middle school. He’s fully transitioned now, with top and bottom surgery, with strong support from his mother, who is dead now. He LOVES anything nautical, absolutely loves it. He sings sea shanties to himself, he has tattoos, he’s saving up for his own boat, the works. He especially loves pirates, and reads anything he can on them. He’s kind of condescending, especially at first glance, but he’s strongly supportive of Annie.

Annie is a very very shy girl, and super insecure. She rly doesn’t like herself, especially her body. Like at all. She only wears baggy clothing, and is constantly doubting if she’s worth Jamie. She’s also an amputee with one of her legs, though I don’t know to what extent, from the knee at the highest I think. Back when she was a kid, her father moved to alaska and brought her with, cause he was super into shit like alaskan reality TV and Call of the Wild and stuff. He prepared as much as he could, even lived with a local for a while to get the hang of it. But one time, when Annie was out hunting, a blizzard came in and trapped her way away from their home. She nearly died and ended up losing some of her leg. That’s what made her father decide that it wasn’t worth it, and moved them back.

Jamie super admired her courage, not only in that, but in her surviving day to day, and Annie really admires Jamie’s confidence and ambition. They also both greatly appreciate the love they give each other, since they both feel super alone.

Amour is a poly girl who just wants to find the loves of her life. Her name isn’t legally Amour, but that’s the one she likes using (I can’t remember which legal name I decided for her) She’s also socially anxious, kind of like Annie, but not because of self loathing. She’s more scared of outside opinion than herself. She’s also a sort of sex worker who caters especially to those with a “fat kink,” though she’s also a fan of doing lingerie and other stuff that I haven’t decided. She’s a very new oc, so there’s not much about her yet, but I know she runs an nsfw blog with at least a few other people, one of which being a girl she looks up to highly.

I also have a Starbound oc whose name I can’t quite remember. She’s a novakid and she’s awesome. She’s all cheery and silly until she kicks ass. She loves her crew and thinks they’re all awesome.

Whisper was created for my by a friend, he’s based on the will-o-the-wisps. He’s a teeny little being made out of like plasma, and he wears a hooded cloak and has a crescent moon shaped mask that covers all but one eye. He leads humans deep into the forest to feed… other things. He loves shiny things and LOVES soda, and can create minor illusions.

Whisper’s friend is the same species as him, but she hates humans hates being around them, hates hearing about them. They only thing they’re good for is feeding… other things. And also using certain body parts for spells n shit. She’s a very angry little witch. She has long spiky twigs coming out of her head, and she can make and control brambles. She wears a lil witchy cloak and a big hat, and a scrap of cloth covering one eye that’s snagged on some of her head twigs. I’ve been calling her Bramble Witch, but she still needs an actual name.

Rei’orin was created to rp with a friend of mine, but he’s kind of grown into a universe of his own. He was originally a djinn in the rp, but has since become a strong magical mass with highly destructive tendencies. His power can be compared to that of our sun, but beings who are more like the size of Rigel decided he was too much of an asshole and trapped him on earth, just when it was being formed. He was so pissed, he delayed the cooling of the crust and formation of the first cells by a fuckin while. When he calmed down, he participated in whatever life popped up, especially human civilization. Then humans discovered him and found out he was being held there against his will, and used it to develop trapping mechanisms of their own, which they used to trap other djinns/star beings on earth for their own purposes. When they thoroughly understood how to do it, they trapped him not just on earth, but a teeny little object that they could manipulate him with as well. Also he’s genderfluid!! As far as human identities go

Bois is a demon who’s job it is to corrupt souls and bring them to hell. Most demons have a different methods, and Bois’s is to pose as a potential victim of the person’s worst desires and have them take it out on him. Once they do, he’s able to take their newly corrupted souls to hell. He’s a very sassy boy, and doesn’t get along with one demon in particular, whose abilities I can’t quite remember.

I also used to have a mer oc named Ahti that lived in a mangrove forest, befriended a young pheonix girl, and traveled around with her after another, older, more powerful pheonix lady gave him legs and turned him into a wizard. He grows old and after the pheonix girl dies and is reborn, he continues to travel with her despite the loss of her memories, and kind of raises her. This happens multiple times, until he grows old and dies. I don’t rly rp with him anymore tho…

ALRIGHT AND THIS IS THE BIG DOOZYThese next ones are all for the universe I’ve been developing for a while. I can’t say much about them cause to do that I would need to explain the rest of the world along with them

FIRST is the cyclops lady (wth 6 arms), who is a seer and STILL after all this time, doesn’t have a name. She used to just be a regular old cyclops lady who got married to someone of another species (he was a big boy). Soon after they got married, however, one of the divine forces of their world bestowed her with an eye that could see the future. All was fine for a while and she was learning to deal with it with her husband’s support, until a few years later when they were caught in a fire. Something took over her, kind of like a divine instinct, and forced her to sacrifice half of her body and her husband to keep her eye undamaged. She completely lost the use of 3 of her arms, and partially on the other 3, and she can only really do stuff with her top right arm. She also keeps the femur bone of her husband as a keepsake, and uses it as a cane (it’s still a bit too big for her). Now she works as the seer for the royal council of the 5 other nations, as well as owning a magical items shop. She also sells potions (which are very dangerous and outlawed) on the black market

One of the Royal Council members is a queen called The Silenced. She is very very intimidating. She wears a mask and doesn’t speak a word. Before she became queen by herself, she used to rule with her husband, but bad shit happened and she ended up getting exposed to divine magic. Unlike the cyclops seer, she wasn’t given the ability to deal with it, and instead was severely wounded. Her face was disfigured and she mentally lost the ability to speak.

Another of the Royal council is the Bramble King, who is a partial floating skeleton with an animal skull, spiral horns, field grass growing out of his skull, and a big ol cloak. He looks intimidating but he is just the friendly grandpa.

Another of the Royal council is Loch Raven, who is a beast covered in feather, with a raven’s head and 6 arms, though she walks quadrupedal. Despite being a bird thing, she sends the vast majority of her time in the water, and is only comfortable in the swamp that is most of her kingdom. She is always wet, and never dry ever. Like you could try and dry her off and she would never be dry. Her kingdom’s leadership is based on a tournament style overtaking every few years or so. Someone who wants to be ruler challenges the current ruler and they fight to the death. Whoever wins gets to be ruler from then until someone challenges them. Loch Raven has the 2nd or 3rd longest lasting rule so far, lasting a could decades.

A recent addition to the royal council is a pair of twin magitech robots (kind-of object heads) Their kingdom was previously ruled by a dictator who would not be let into the council, and has recently gone through a civil war that has left most of their land a wasteland. Once the resistance won, the twins, who had been strong leaders in the war, took over and asked to be part of the council.

The last member is a friend’s oc, a big fuckin mantis whose kingdom is on the other side of nearly impenetrable mountains.

All the monarchs get to bring two advisors to the council, and no one else.

there was another old character that I included in this universe, that used to be the guardian of an unknown forest somewhere, without knowing who made them or why they were created, only that their purpose was to defend the forest. Since then, I’ve moved them to this universe, where they defend the forest that was where life first began on the planet. They’re this big thing, like at least 20 ft. They have a face made out of wood and long straight black hair, and two long feathers on their forehead, kind of like antenna that point backward. They don’t have a body, but a big sheet of moss, leaves, vines, etc swoop down like a cloak from where their shoulders should be.

WELL THAT’S ALL MY MAJOR CHARACTERS I THINK

gosh I love oc’s, they’re so rad

I rly rly appreciate you asking about them, thank you so much 💖💖💖

#speaks #oc's #asks #gosh I've been writing for so long I hope it's not too late #Anonymous #I have been waiting YEARS for someone to ask about oc's