light out of darkness

“Life,” he said softly, “is more than flesh. Your body is a candle, your soul the flame. The longer I burn the candle…” He did not finish.
“A candle unused is nothing but wax and wick,” I said. “I would rather light the flame, knowing it will go out than sit forever in darkness.”

Currently reading Wintersong by S Jae-Jones ❄️

Day 1: The Sweet Hello, The Sad Goodbye

I’m not prepared for Reyes week at all, but if there’s one thing I can do, it’s hit my keyboard until a drabble falls out.

He’s not sure what to call this, really, and Reyes has more options than most people. Maybe there’s just no word for it in Spanish or in English - or maybe any language at all. It’s sweet, almost, but harsh; like the aftertaste of a tequila shot handled poorly. It hurts, too, but it’s a good hurt. Reyes isn’t the kind of man that romanticizes pain, because he’d rather just avoid it.

But this.

This is something else.

There are twinkling lights below him and twinkling lights above; an ocean out there in the darkness, and another ocean behind the stars. He hadn’t been planning on coming home before they froze him, but he’s been outwitted by his stumbling feet. Maybe it was calling him. Maybe he just wanted it to be.

Either way, the lights are soothing. Either way, the air is warm. It’s strange to think that he’ll never see these stars again.

But there’s a patch of sky out there he will see - and this is definitely a call. It’s a tug. It’s a summons. It’s hope.

And there it is. He’s got it.


When a Member of STARISH Flirts With You || QUARTET NIGHT

Anon Request:  Hey, can I please request Quartet Night’s reaction to Starish flirting with their s/o?

A/N: I ended up using one member of STARISH instead of the whole group. If this isn’t what you wanted, feel free to send me an ask when the ask box is open again. I hope you enjoy <3

Originally posted by ulquimaniac

Ranmaru -

Ranmaru couldn’t hide his anger as Ren placed a hand on your shoulder, whispering something into your ear. Ranmaru desperately wanted to know what he said, but his hearing was limited as he stood across the room. He was aware that it had to be something inappropriate as your face turned a dark red and Ren let out a light chuckle. Ranmaru’s fists clenched, his nostrils flared, and he was pretty sure there was steam coming out of his ears. How dare someone get so close to you? Didn’t Ren know you were his? He decided it was time to remind everyone in the room who you belonged to.  Ranmaru stomped over to you, monochromatic eyes glaring at the strawberry blond that stood at your side.

“Hey about you move your hand before I break it?” your boyfriend snapped. Ren smirked and tightened his grip on your shoulder.

“Y/N doesn’t seem to be having any complaints~” He teased back. Two pairs of eyes turned to look at you. You sighed at their childish behavior but shrugged Ren’s hand off your shoulder, much to Ranamru’s relief.

Ren just shrugged “I’ll see you later Y/N.” He left with a wink thrown in your direction. Ranamaru let out a deep growl and pulled you close to his chest.

“You’re mine. Don’t forget it.”

Originally posted by enchantingnanami

Reiji -

When you had texted Reiji informing him that you’d be in his dorm, he ran to the room. But he had not prepared for what he’d hear when he walked in. Otoya was talking – well more like stuttering – to you and twiddling his fingers. You let out a laugh at one of his jokes and Reiji watched as Otoya directed his face to the ground, trying to hide his ever-growing blush. Your boyfriend was no idiot and could see that his friend was trying to make a move.

Reiji knocked on the open door to make you aware of his presence. You turned around and grinned when you saw your boyfriend, quickly running into his now open arms. Otoya’s eye widened at the bold action, but he stayed silent.

“I see you’ve met my (girlfriend/boyfriend) Otoyan.” Reiji’s voice was tense, and a bit strained, but he kept his usual smile. The red head’s face drained of color, and he grew stiff when the word’s registered in his mind.

“W-what?” Otoya stuttered. Reiji wrapped one arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head.

“What? You didn’t know?” The brunette raised his eyebrows in question.

“N-no, Y/N j-just said t-they were h-here to see you. I-I was j-just keeping them c-company!!” Otoya blabbered. Reiji just laughed at how flustered the younger boy had gotten before intertwining his hand with yours and pulling you out the door, waving at Otoya on the way out.

“Well, we have some catching up to do so I’ll see you later!”

Originally posted by jinguuji-san

Camus -

You stood backstage after the Quartet Night concert, eagerly waiting for your boyfriend’s return. They had just finished their second to the last song so it would only be a few minutes of waiting. You had a date with Camus after the concert, so you were dressed in your favorite date outfit which you had to admit you looked excellent in.

“Oh! Who are you?” You turned your head at the voice and saw a tan boy with bright green eyes staring at you.  You gave him a friendly smile before holding up the backstage pass that hung around your neck.

“Just watching the concert.” You decided to leave the part about your boyfriend and date out, not sure if you should tell the mysterious stranger.  “Who are you?” You threw the question back to him.

“I am Cecil, what would your name be my (princess/prince)?”

You blushed at his flirty tone and told him your name. Cecil nodded, taking in the information.

Before you could say much else, you felt a large hand being pressed against the small of your back. Camus was now standing behind you, his light blue eyes sending a sharp glare at the boy in front of you.

“What are you doing?” Camus’ sharp tone cut through the room, and you saw Cecil’s eyes widen as he took a step back. You sighed and intertwined one of your hands with Camus’, hoping to calm him down.

“Cecil was just keeping me company while I waited for you.” You tried to keep the mood in the room calm, but Camus was quick to fire back.

“A peasant like him has no need to talk to you.” Cecil sent you a sympathetic smile and quickly excused himself while you turned to your lover.


Originally posted by kirei-na-jinsei

Ai -

You sang the Piyo-chan theme song along with Natsuki, both of you dancing around the dorm room to the tune. You had originally come to the dorm in hopes of seeing Ai, your boyfriend, but he was out somewhere. Natsuki invited you to stay and watch Piyo-chan with him, and you couldn’t help but say yes.

“Y/N-chan! You’re so cute when you sing the Piyo-chan theme song!” The tall blonde exclaimed. Natsuki pulled you into a hug, swaying side to side while he sang about how adorable you were. You giggled and returned the hug, not realizing that your boyfriend had entered the room and was staring at you.

Ai felt a feeling brew in his chest, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. It made him feel angry, nauseous, and hurt all at the same time. All he knew was that it grew stronger as he watched Natsuki hold you. Being the blunt person he is, Ai decided to speak up.

“Natsuki, I don’t appreciate the way you’re holding Y/N.” His voice came out sharper than usual. Your eyes widened, and you pulled away from Natsuki, sending him a sympathetic smile as you did. Natsuki returned the smile before leaving to watch Piyo-chan.

Once he was somewhat out of earshot, you gave your boyfriend a glare.

“What the hell was that?” You kept your voice hushed but stern.

“I got a weird feeling in my chest when Natsuki held you.” Ai deadpanned as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You sighed, “You mean you were jealous?”

“What’s that?”

A Children’s Crusade

“…suffer the little children…”

The full moon is high in the sky, the edges a burnished red, and it casts the night in an eerie glow. The moon and the stars are the only lights out tonight. The rest of Tokyo is bathed in darkness, save for emergency facilities. A near total blackout. The tap tap of footsteps sounds across the roof, the only noise in preternatural silence.

Keep reading

James Potter: seventeen, hair got struck by lightning at age four and hasn’t sat down since, knuckles that jut out, holds his wand between his teeth to impress girls- to impress the girl, doesn’t own one pair of matching socks, the kind of attractive that fills the ribs, fills the shoulder blades, fills the heart, Sirius painted his nails once and he kept the polish on all week, sees the girl before registering anyone else in the room, young organs pumping young blood, wired to himself, to his boys, to the girl, can tell what you’re about to say before you say it, he’s just sort of like that, has a habit of leaning arms on peoples shoulders, starts the trust fall before anyone realises they’re  meant to be catching him

Sirius Black: seventeen, eats whipped cream by the fork full, rolls up the sleeves of his robes, begins most conversations with: you absolute fuck, column of his throat running down the neck like water, leaves his text books all over school, made of gut feeling, of instinct, of starting before you know how to finish, a part of him still stuck in that house, with the door slamming, with his mother yelling, with the world ending,  he is the bomb going off in the swimming pool, he has probably made a bomb go off in the swimming pool, smoking just outside the door- look- you can see the smoke, you can see the shaking hands.

Remus Lupin: seventeen,  jumpy, long eyelashes, the sullen quiet of fog in winter, scars up the arms, round the neck, across the chest, eyes that stare as if they are waiting for permission, plays the same records until he’s mouthing the words in his sleep, gives out flowers for gifts, sarcasm that could stop the heart, soft, like the skin above your collar bone, like stained glass windows with light through them, like seeing a star in a textbook, knowing that  something that good is out there even if it is far away, often has wind billowing through his baggy t-shirts, pulls out his bottom lip when thinking, at night wakes up sweating, dreaming of blood in his mouth, the kind you get when you rip an arm off, when you lick the bone clean.


Peter Pettigrew: seventeen, socks right to the knee, eating an ice cream, has a sore neck from always looking up, raw fingernails- bitten to the cuticles, full of fear, oozing fear, could fill cathedrals with this fear, burns books for no reason, unmade bed, the flush of a cheek that is bloated, a mound of blood, sits on the floor because there is no room at the table, counts on his fingers, pulled a muscle when walking up the fourth staircase, shuts his eyes, opens them, realises he is still in his own skin, pale, a stick of white, unassuming, like flowers, or the moment the ground gives way, all at once, as if it was going to all along


Shine Forever Story

There was a car crash. 

Minhyuk was driving. 

Kihyun lost his sight in the accident.

The other members blamed Minhyuk for it. 

But Kihyun forgave him.

The members decided to go searching for a way to bring back Kihyun’s sight.

They used light to bring him out of the darkness.

Kihyun’s sight was restored.

melodrama through the eyes of a (fellow) synaesthete

hello everyone! just like lorde herself, i have a strong case of synaesthesia (I get colour visions, but also tastes and scents as well), so this is my attempt to review the masterpiece that is melodrama through my synaesthetical experiences

let’s go

green light: car air freshener, heated highway and the visions you get when you drive in heat (a la mirages), blackberry-scented cheap shower gel, a pistachio green silk scarf, old school adidas kicks, lemon juice drops on fresh summer salad, beige satin, old black cars (a la classic cadillacs and jaguars), maple syrup, the heat of cairo at around 11 am

sober: ripe honeydew, the smell of guitar wood varnish, red satin ribbons, smudged glass coffee tables, spilled lemonade on said tables, peach vodka, the feel of white plaster in old museums where security guards are very strict, cough syrup (both the colour and the flavour), artificial smell of mint, mint gum, velvet red carpeting in old and badly aired town halls, the humidity of rainforest

homemade dynamite: 4 am sunrise straight after a storm with torn dark grey, nearly black clouds being ripped, smell of gasoline, deep puddles in cracked pavement, dimmed street lights about to go out, magenta, white musk perfume from the body shop, deep indigo of the nearly sunrise of mid may, that walk home from a rowdy night out when everyone is more or less sobered up, but not sober enough to feel shy yet, still drunk enough to be honest with affection and cursing and slightly slurred speech

the louvre: bamboo blinds, bamboo shoots, bonsai trees, flowing honey, varnished birchwood, sunlit old halls in ugly grey soviet buildings, silver hellium-filled balloons, white shiny doors between a party-filled room and a closet where hook-ups and one-night stands take place, old oil paint, the sunny, lemon yellow butterflies, muddly skies of july, edelflower syrup in a glass of white wine, edelflower flower crowns, an expensive pool in a mansion-like house in hollywood hills, the eerie comfort and anxiety of the opening credits of twin peaks

liability: massive bouquets of lily of the valley, white lace curtains knitted by a grandmother, greyness of a sunday in a village on a last warm october day, a single light in an office on a late night in a massive skyscraper, dried flowers, drops of nosebleed on a crystal clean white sink, grey that turns into pastel lilac, the feeling of ripped paper

hard feelings/loveless: faint sunrise shining through the windows of a manhattan apartment in a skyscraper, all shades of orange spilling onto a hi-tec kitchen, cointreau liqueur, sunny warm nights on ocean beach, lukewarm bathtubs when the bath foam has fizzled, bonfires and burned marshmallows, just the beginning of feeling buzzed (like a glass of wine in), tender shades of yellow, rustiness of old heavy doors into a basement, scaffolding sounds, first sunniest days of spring after a heavy winter, sunset in the ocean, heavy fluffy sweaters / neon diner signs, anime eyes, porcelain dolls, peach-flavoured bubblegum, glass bowls

sober ii (melodrama): colour of crimson, heavy red velvet couches, smudged matte red lipstick, glass shards, ripped pearl necklaces and scattered pearls on sticky floor, red limelight, stilettos, tight black bodysuits, smoky-eyed tall models in revealing tight and latex dresses, marble furniture with golden decor, fistfights during a party, ripped suits and thrown ties and unbuttoned white shirts on boys with wealthy fathers

writer in the dark: light parakeet green, whitewashed starched tablecloths that crunch, old wooden tables, rusty cages for canaries, Advocat liqueur, big pearl necklaces on black dresses, big sunglasses (a la Audrey’s in Breakfast at Tiffany’s), sunny Sunday mornings on a patio with a cup of fancy tea, sunday clothes, white churches in greece, silver tears and crying in the backseat after a breakup, wilted flowers in a vase with dirty water

supercut: light green and orange, Love Is bubblegum, peaches, apricots, mint, Mojitos, fairy lights above people at a rooftop party, roadtrip one takes after a breakup with all thier belongings, flavoured water that doesn’t quench thirst, sparkling water with lemon and ice cubes, worn down picnic blankets, fancy dresses girls wear to the entrance into a nightclub, folding chairs, chilled champagne

liability (reprise): cold winter wind of february, the feeling on the tip of the tongue from scolding hot tea, big white rooms in museums, light green, light smoke of e-cigarette that smells like peppermint, the smell of sunscreen, the stillness of a swimming pool at noon in heat

perfect places: red wine, swinging chandeliers, red plastic cups, glass grand pianos, the last summer party in august, that warm feeling at the end of the party where everyone’s buzzed and affectionate and there’s a lot of kissing and hugging and swinging, big fake golden earrings, summer fruits, fancy hotels and luxurious lifts/elevators, skinny dipping, black velvet dresses that touch the floor, uncontrollable laughing in comfy sweaters

I can’t see very well.
—  Ravenclaw, forgetting to wear their glasses, and flying through a rainstorm.

breathe.  Just breathe.  Now … reach out.  What do you see?

Light … darkness.  The balance.

I meant to post this on may the 4th but I stopped working on it and didn’t come back until now 

new blog! hopefully i’ll be posting more art here!

but it’s like-
the night throbs in my veins sometimes
and i don’t know what to do with this energy?
it isn’t my heart, no, not that, not anything known,
but it flows like blood would and i want to leap out of the window-
i want to meet the stars / i want to tell them that the night
isn’t the darkest place that i’ve been but even when i’m there
somehow starlight still guides me.

l.s. | it flows like blood would © 2017

let's talk about Bucky’s brain

I dunno if anyone’s done this before but whatever. Specifically, I want to talk about Bucky’s brain in relation to the cannibalized MRI thing they strapped on his noggin in CA:TWS. Like what the hell is that thing, how old is it, what are you trying to do HYDRA, is this one of those weird dryer things you stick your whole head in at the hairdresser’s? They have had 70 years to perfect this technology and it looks like a high schooler’s science fair project. There aren’t even any electrodes. Seriously there should be electrodes not only because they’re kind of necessary for this sort of thing but also because who would object to Bucky Barnes looking totally punk rock with a partially-shaved head? No one, that’s who.

But I guess let’s just assume the plate things themselves are in contact with his head and transmitting the charge themselves. Okay. That’s a big area they cover and approximately zero opportunity for finesse, so they can’t localize the damage at all. And there’s still all that hair in the way. But whatever, I’ll shut up about the hair.

So the plate things are basically concentrated on the prefrontal cortex, which is at the very front of the brain, behind the forehead where the plates are located. I mean there looks like there are plates going around around the back of the head but if it only goes as deep as the cerebrum they don’t want to damage anything back there because it’s all motor skills and balance and sensory perception and language centers, all of which were vital in the Winter Soldier’s functioning. 

So yeah, the prefrontal cortex seems to be what they’re targeting, and the prefrontal cortex is for short term memory and decision making. However, it would be indescribably stupid to damage short term memory retention, so I don’t think they’d just fry the entire prefrontal cortex. Especially if it could compromise his ability to make quick, logical decisions in the field because the prefrontal cortex is important for logic and impulse control. So I would assume that they’re targeting the connections between the short term and long term memory storage systems rather than taking away his short term memory altogether. 

Basically, recalling a memory that’s stored in long-term is just the brain returning it to the short-term memory center, or the working memory, concentrated in the prefrontal cortex. From there your brain literally refires all the neurons that fired during that experience, without compromising awareness of current circumstances. So severing those connections between long and short term memory would not only stop him retaining new memories, it would stop him recalling old ones.

They could be messing with his long term memory, except there are no intracranial bits and bobs that could actually penetrate deeper than the cerebrum without frying everything in between, and the hippocampus and amygdala where long term memory is stored are in there deep. 

This picture doesn’t do justice to how deep in the brain the hippocampus and amygdala are, but it works well enough as a visual aid. You don’t want to damage the amygdala in a super soldier at any rate because that’s where the survival instincts are kicking around. Also, damaging the hippocampus on both sides of the brain would turn him into a potato, unable to retain any information at all, not even how to discharge his weapon, so you’d basically have to retrain him anew for every mission. And this contraption has clearly no finesse at all, as stated above, so I really don’t think they’d be able to destroy anything only partially or make any localized alterations.

And sure, maybe they actually opened up his head at some point in the past to get at long term memory storage, and the cryofreeze might stop that from healing, but I think the understanding of the brain was so ridiculously limited at that time that they didn’t really even know how to avoid excessive damage, and I don’t think they would have risked rendering one of their best assets brain dead. Honestly, I think the most likely thing they did was supplement the physical stuff with more traditional brainwashing and conditioning techniques.

So really, all Bucky needs to do is repair the connections between his long term and short term memory. Even with all this damage, the brain is adaptable even in normal humans. When certain parts are damaged, other parts can take over functioning in their stead. Although in this case, if the connections between long and short term memory were cut every time he went into the cryogenic chamber, he never would have stored any of the information gleaned as the Winter Soldier past the short term unless he managed to catch enough sleep to transfer those memories into long term storage before he got zapped or frozen again. So he would potentially remember everything about being Bucky Barnes fairly quickly, assuming his super soldier healing could repair those pathways or create new ones to compensate, and he would never remember most of his time as the Winter Soldier except what they wanted him to remember and let him encode before they took out those connections again. So basically, his combat training, his obedience training, and all that hydra indoctrination crap.

His old memories as Bucky would remain relatively pristine, because the more we view a memory the more current circumstances during the recollection alter it, and what you remember becomes less and less similar to what you actually experienced at the time. So instead of memories slowly changing and evolving as the person themself changes, which is what normally happens as we revisit memories and subtly alter them over time through new perception, Bucky would have this huge, disorienting, sickening divide between the well-preserved, untouched old memories of how he used to be and any new ones he managed to create as the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier memories will be less fleshed out, have more holes, be generally more ghost-like because of how they fucked with his brain and memories, so it would be easy for him to dissociate with them and to ignore them, but in order to ignore them Bucky would also have to ignore their consequences. He would be denying a part of himself. And he wouldn’t be able to deal well with their fallout, with the ways those experiences changed him, because he wouldn’t let himself examine them.

Honestly this is horrifying in its own way. All the fic I’ve read talks about how horrible it must be for the Winter Soldier to forget Bucky Barnes, but very little touches on how horrible it would be for Bucky to be all there and have a stranger in his head that he has few, dissociated memories of, but still retains a lot of that conditioning and finds himself acting like someone he doesn’t even remember being. He would feel betrayed by his own body and his own mind, doing things without knowing why he was doing them. I feel like not being the same Bucky as the one who went off to war would be so frustrating to him. Fics paint it as Steve being frustrated by the fact that Bucky’s no longer the same person, but I think Bucky himself would be far more frustrated by that fact than Steve. I think the fact that he’s not the same would bother him more than Steve’s longing for him to be the same, because he would understand that longing, share it even. I think he would dissociate from the foreign Winter Soldier part of himself, would try to bury it or force it out instead of facing it, would hate whatever memories he did retain from that time, because the Winter Soldier terrifies everyone but I think he would terrify Bucky most of all. And it would make sense, too. After all, the winter soldier was always supposed to be a ghost, the unseen threat, the silent killer, and I think, rather than inhabiting Bucky, the Soldier would haunt him, something he can’t prepare for or fight unless he’s willing to look through the dark to find it and confront it.

(All images blatantly stolen)


–The time has come.

They lied, my friend. They injected
their despair beneath your skin
like a parasitic insect laying eggs
in the body of another species.

Nothing they said is true,
everything about you is honorable. Every pore
that opens and closes—a multitude
along the expanse of your body, the
follicles from which hair sprouts
emerging again and again like spiders’ floss
spun from a limitless source.

You wait, huddled. Or carry yourself from
place to place like a burden. As if
you would stash yourself, if you could,
in a bus station locker, or somewhere smaller.
You don’t really hope, but
you can’t give it up completely.

Some stubborn nugget
is lodged like a bullet in bone.
Though each breath stings with the cold
suck of it, you can know the truth.
Every cell of your body vibrates with its own intelligence.
Every atom is pure.”

—  Ellen Bass

                                          Breathe. Just breathe. Now reach out. What do you see?
                                                                                                        Light. Darkness. A balance.