weyheyjxlya

[weyheyjxlya]

"May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you…

keeping your blood eternally pulsing…

May your journey be forever peaceful and your schemes forever concealed.

Our paths will cross again beneath Kakava’s shimmering auroras.

Farewell, Kakavasha.”

[weyheyjxlya]

[weyheyjxlya]

majestic 💖

“of impermanence and devotion to your sacred withering bones” ; sunday

premise — he’ll take pieces out of his flesh to mold into your wounds, bandaging you with his skin; he never liked seeing you hurt.

tags — established relationship, religious themes and metaphors, soft and loving sunday (i advocate), mix of the lovely trio (the fluff, the slight angst, and the comfort), reassurance from him, gender-neutral reader, never proofread, 1.1k ; one-shot

note — my parents chose thought daughter so now i’m writing fanfics on a thursday afternoon.

he’ll love you like religion.

needlessly, tirelessly, with bruised knees and bleeding palms, with blood-shot eyes and clasped fingers, worshiping, devoting, yearning, calling to whoever will listen—to you who will listen. it suffocates him yet he’ll clench at his chest and utter your name even if there’s no voice in his being and he is left like a pathetic, whimpering dog that was made to be abandoned. he’ll dig his own grave with broken nails and wounded hands, a coffin of tender touches, and the earth will fill his lungs and he’ll hope for flowers to sprout from his mouth when he plants his confession into the dirt. can you hear him? do you hear him?

“please take care of yourself more.” sunday says as he reaches for the bottle of disinfectant, pouring enough of it over the cloth he was holding to drench it before gently dabbing the fabric on the area of your wound. it stings and you hissed, clenching the sheets beneath your fingers as you watch him work.

“i only fell and scraped my knee, i don’t think it’s anything that bad.” you say in defense to your clumsiness. sunday was all gentle and careful in cleaning and treating the wound on your knee as if you were a child and he was the nurse tending to your ‘big’ wound.

(a god does not bleed but you do.)

he sighs, “it could have been worse.” and dresses your wound with a gauze, the material pristine white as no blood taints the material.

“but it wasn’t.” you rebut quite quickly, your gaze firm at his yet he doesn’t meet yours. he is kneeled in front of you, an open kit by his side and a chair on his other—and he chooses to be on the cold ground, his clothing slightly wrinkled and its appearance similar to spilled water on the floor beneath him. he never dares let himself appear as indecent with his disordered clothes and unkempt appearance in the form of an unsymmetrical coat and creased pants but here he is, in all his glory and messiness, laid out like the map of a devotee’s heart before you.

(he’ll beg even for a moment of your gaze but his cowardice will hold his head down to the ground—he is never like this, he was never his own when you look at him.)

“what could have happened if i wasn’t there to immediately help you? you’re too careless.” he scolds yet there’s no hint of harshness in his voice, just gentle and sweet worry lacing into his tone. something lies, seemingly dormant, in the still air that embraces you and he finds himself waiting for something to happen.

“sunday, it’s just a small wound. you don’t have to worry, i’m fine.” you assure him, hand cupping the side of his cheek and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone—it’s soft and slow, you feel warm, he feels warm. he leans into your touch, your hand soothing the tension that lies in his bones and his expression softens. silence settles in the room as he basks in the gentle affection that is bestowed on him. he holds your hand he turns his head to kiss the palm of it; his eyes are close and his lips lingered on your skin, comforting, relishing, soft, you.

“i have a question but before that, can you look at me, please?”

“i am,” he whispers, his lips beginning to trace your palm down to your pulse, all the while he keeps his gaze away and shut, “and my love, you never have to beg or plead for anything.” you know he’ll give you everything.

(sometimes—always, he feels like he is undeserving of the divine grace of your attention, of your affection, of your adoration, and you feel like your love is just a meager offering, unable to fulfill him. can you see him each other?)

finally, he looks at you—golden eyes born from the sun meets yours. his halo is situated just right on his head, pierced wings behind his ears, and his hair reminds you of the sky above you that you once gazed into when you were a child playing in the fields, before you were deemed as his, and now your gaze is held on the ground right where he is kneeling down. stray strands of your hair fall over your eyes and the way the light kisses your skin makes you look delicate, ethereal.

“do i love you enough?” you ask. have you ever been enough? have you done enough? is your mere and bare existence enough for someone like him?

“since when have you not?” he answers, filled with gentle affection. his tone is akin of a devout preacher, reassuring like a verse from a scripture.

(sunday never thought of you as lacking, not with the broken and missing pieces of your skin, tainted and muddled by blood and dirt, left to rot in your wake like a sin unrepented.)

“you’re the wine that overflows my cup,” he says, each syllable of his words carrying the weight of his utter and suffocating devotion, “and i’ll continue to consume you even in death.” no grave will ever hold his body down.

you cup his cheeks with both of your hands, his lips leaving your skin yet the warmth of his kisses remains. “you’re too good with your words,” you say, a small smile drawing on your lips, “perhaps you’re only telling lies to please me.” 

“my dearest,” he murmurs, lightly grazing his hand against your ear as he pushes your hair aside, “i’ll lay down my life for you, but i will never deceive you.”

(an unyielding faith of a martyr, his commitment is steadfast and his love is a fervent prayer, uttered and spoken only by him. his thoughts are spilled on the carpet, his confession ringing and echoing back to him as he repents like a sinner for loving you too much.)

“i’m a burden.” you whisper, longing for the feeling of his lips on yours. “i’m afraid i’m too much or too little for you to have.”

“i’m okay with that,” it’s a litany of devotion, his words a sacred vow he’ll keep for eternity that will come, “i love you.”

forever become a burden, become human in a fragile and delicate way as if your heart is made to break, so he’ll get to hold you in his hands.

also tagging, the one and only @toorurs !! i am dedicating this to u because u LOVE last day of the week guy A LOT and i’m also too lazy to make another section but yeah this is for you my boo, hi beloved you’re the greatest of the greatest, you’re the sweetest of all (i feel like im singing a song wadahell) and i hope you know that you’re very very cool and very very funny and i’m not the type to laugh while texting but i always do it when talking to you. i try not to do a backflip when u like and reblog my posts (i cant even do a headstand dafuq) !! i hope you know that you’re not loser, maybe a hater, but definitely not a user and you have me as a friend always no matter what questionable and weird things you say 🙏 like okay alpha sigma you’re the boss. this feels like the dedication page on a book or the acknowledgment part in research where you say thank you to whoever you want like damn. i’ll do the remaining words for dedication on upcoming works so that you’re always reminded that you’re somewhat involved in my life even if you’re like 1826725276 fucking miles away

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[weyheyjxlya]

my heart, it's breaking again in pieces

goodbye Kakavasha...

[weyheyjxlya]

i called aventurine "Mr Never lose HP" but then I put blade in the team and REALIZED

[weyheyjxlya]

"Kakavasha"

[weyheyjxlya]

Final Victor lightcone but make it SO much worse

[weyheyjxlya]

Based from Aventurine's trailer

[weyheyjxlya]

SOOOOOOO ME

My life at the moment:

[weyheyjxlya]

alice madness returns

[weyheyjxlya]

Husband!Aventurine x Reader

Synopsis : "they like diamonds not gold"

Warning : Cool Aventurine (yes that's a warning it's fatal)

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the mumblings of people around you as continued looking though various jewellery displayed in front of you.

"Isn't that the IPC guy's partner?"

"Aeons that's shameless. Buying such expensive things with their husband's hard earned money."

"I wonder how they bagged him to begin with"

You pointed at a necklace in the display cabinet, the employee taking it out and holding the piece in front of you on a velvety cushion.

"Must have opened their legs what else."

Your gaze turned sharp as you sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Taking the necklace in your hand as you raised the pendant to see the emerald sparkle.

You smiled. It matched his clothes.

"Just a shameless gold digger."

You turned around at that, eyes piercing through the two ladies but before you could say anything an arm wrapped around your waist. You looked up to be met with those neon eyes and they smiled at you. His gloved hand thumbing at your forehead to ease the lines your forehead accumulated. You smiled in return, the issue long forgotten as soon as you saw your husband.

"Sorry it took me so long Treasure" He apologised, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he turned you both towards the counter, taking the necklace from your hand and handing it to the man standing behind the counter. A silent gesture for him to bag it up. You looked over your shoulder to see the ladies seething in rage.

Swiping his card over the machine he handed you the small bag, smiling down at you before he inserted the pin.

As you both turned towards the exit Aventurine stopped, his body turning to face the two ladies. "Next time just say that your husbands don't love you enough to spend money on you."

He swung his arm around your shoulder, preparing to leave when an easy going smile took over his features. He slightly turned his head towards them, slipping on his glasses.

"And My Treasure likes diamonds not gold."

Aventurine masterlist

Masterlist

Written by yours truly

[weyheyjxlya]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OMG

Alternate aven “death scene” (I put it in quotes bc he didn’t actually die this is just a shitpost)

Aventurine, holding a d100: if I roll a 100, I get to live

IX: your life doesn’t matter anyways so

Aventurine: (rolls a 100)

IX: what the fuck

[weyheyjxlya]

[weyheyjxlya]

aventurine: diamond knew i’d be just the one for this job ;)

diamond, 20 minutes ago: bring me our most suicidal employee

[weyheyjxlya]

“The harmony, sentenced him to “his” execution”

[weyheyjxlya]

rotating sweet soft-spoken sunday in my head as i’m typing this. i think about his control tendencies that slip through in private… he’s definitely the gentle, nice type who fucks like he hates you.

and then there’s dr. ratio… but i wouldn’t say he’s a mean type, just painfully direct without sugarcoating his opinions. which can be tough… but he definitely softens if he wants to be close with someone.

[weyheyjxlya]

"I wish you the best of luck."

This scene got me in shambles...