#;regrets

[thefirstazure-blog]

“If Nidhogg must be slain… If there is truly no other recourse to see this senseless bloodshed brought to a close… Then so be it. But I would see Ishgard open its gates to the dragons once more. We were friends once. I only hope one day we can be again.”

[royalnxrd-blog]

Alphys contemplating at the abyss.

There was going to be more, but i think i’ll leave it like this for now. I am in no way a good animator hahaa.

[orxginalsxn-archive-blog]

I'll forget you The more you stay inside of me The weaker I grow    I'll forget you Tomorrow, I will turn and let you go I'll grow colder I'll lose myself in anything but you now For there is nothing I can do now But forget  I'll forget you I won't remember arms that pulled me in Soft and slow I'll forget you There has to be a way to let you go No more shadows No dreams of leaning in the dark above you I will forget how much I love you Any day  But every time I close my eyes You come to me again I swear I feel your touch upon my skin You haunt me everywhere 'Til I reach into the air Trembling to think of all the nights That might have been  I'll forget you I hear you whisper to me in the dark Still I know I'll forget you God, help me find A way to let you go I do not want you But still you steal each breath I'm breathing From me With just a touch You overcome me And I let you I will forget you When I die

[orxginalsxn-archive-blog]

It's just another day                       When the morning sun is showing And you wish that you were running far away       It's just another day                                                                Birds are singing, figs are falling And you wish you would be going But you stay For you know it's  now  or   n e v e r I’ll take what I can take--                                                      And you know you're gone forever       --I'm only half awake Every day is just another ...                                                and another ...                                                               and another...

[orxginalsxn-archive-blog]

It's like living on a  c l i f f s i d e , not knowing when you'll dive.   Do you know-- Do you know  What it's like to  d i e 

 α ℓ ι ν є ?

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine if Claire made it through the stones to go back home in episode 8 before the redcoats grabbed her...but once she is back she can't get her mind off of Jamie and regrets ever coming back home. LOVE YOUR WRITING BY THE WAY!

Claire sat by the window, gazing out at the world beyond. People came and went, life went on and no one had a clue. Not a single one of them had a clue what was going on in a parallel time- in a time not entirely lost to them, a time when change might be made and the world could be a wholly different place. What if? her mind wondered. What if? 

Frank had moved on. He’d taken Claire to Oxford and they’d found a flat, a cozy little place to call home, and yet- She looked around, and she felt the chill in the air and not a single bit of it felt like home. When she thought of home and what home should feel like, it was warm arms around her, the scent of wool and male mixed with horse from riding constantly. “Jamie,” she whispered. “Oh, fuck. What have I done?”

Would he forgive her? Could he possibly ever forgive her for what she’d done? He must have been frantic. Had Willie seen her disappear, or did they think that, perhaps, the English had gotten hold of her? Suddenly fear gripped at her heart at the vision of Jamie going there to find her, to get her back. Ye have the protection of my body. 

“And I threw it all away. For this.”

Sometimes, she’d see the flash of red hair and sit forward, thinking it was him. But it never was. Surely he couldn’t come through the stones. Frank hadn’t been able to- he’d said he’d touched them. Anyway, Jamie thought those stories about the stones were just stories. He hadn’t believed them. He wouldn’t come looking for her.

Well. That was just that, wasn’t it? Decision made, she pushed herself out of the chair and headed for the telephone. If she was going to go back, then she would do some planning for it this time. There was no one better who could help besides Mrs. Graham and the ever-helpful historian, Reverend Wakefield. 

Claire tapped her foot impatiently as she listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line. “I’m coming for you, Jamie. Wait for me,” she whispered.

[ignisleaena]

Heal Pulse

Although on most nights, 47-06 was practically bursting with the hope that the Ditto boy would show up, this time, the sensation of her ball opening filled her with dread. As she materialized, the girl curled up tightly, making as little of herself visible as possible.

It was near impossible to keep a whine from splitting from her throat as pain overtook her body. She’d actually considered being in her ball a blessing, for the past…day? She’d assumed that that was how long it had been. Being inside had kept the pain at bay, kept it bearable. Now, it washed over her and threatened to overtake her entirely.

But she didn’t want him to see. It’d just make him upset. No, that was ridiculous. She couldn’t care how he felt. It’d make her seem weak, vulnerable. That was why it mattered. And so, she stayed wrapped up, hiding as many of her injuries as she could.

“Pyro, what’s wrong?” Dit’s puzzled voice sounded in her ear. He was standing above her, she guessed. “It’s been almost a month since you last saw me. I was expecting a hug, or something.”

 She couldn’t give him an answer. Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. She didn’t want him here, not tonight. So, instead of responding, the hybrid flattened her ears against the top of her head. Go away.

Worried, now, the boy tried again. “I didn’t make you mad, did I? I’m sorry it took me so long to sneak out again. It’s a tricky thing to do, even for one as talented as me.” The last part was said as a joke, she could tell. He was trying to make her look up, smile, laugh, something. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

After a few more seconds, the ditto hybrid finally sighed and kneeled down next to her. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

The girl shook her head, letting out a soft hiss as she did so. Why couldn’t he take a hint?!

                “Wait a minute…”

The experiment’s blood ran cold as she felt the boy’s finger brush her ear, coming close to the spot where her fur had been scorched away. She tensed up as he then approached her face, slowly parting her hair until he could see just what she had been trying so hard to hide.

The pyroar hybrid’s face was covered in burns and blisters, making her almost unrecognizable in the shadows of the unlit hall. As soon as the boy realized it, he pulled away, his eyes growing wide.

                “Pyro, what did they do to you?”

His tone had become dangerously calm and quiet. 47-06 peered through her bangs, trying to read his expression, but what she could see of his face was carefully neutral. It sent a thrill of fear through the hybrid, and her tail twitched nervously. She didn’t want to make him mad. She didn’t want him angry at her. After all, that would mean she could lose him as an ally. And allies were good, especially since he was her only one.

Finally, the girl responded. Her voice, already quiet, was muffled by the fabric of her pants. “I’m a fire-type. They want to see if I was any less susceptible to burns because of that, and if I was, if I healed at a different rate.”

                “So, I’m guessing the results to the first test were promising, and that’s why they didn’t heal you manually.”

One of the girl’s ears flicked up in confusion. Did his voice just…shake? No, she must have imagined it. Still, she nodded, not wanting to make him wait.

                “And you have other burns, on different parts of your body?”

Another nod. Still unwilling to look up at him or even get close to him, the pyroar hybrid stretched out a foot to show him just how scarred and ravaged the skin had become.

For almost a minute, there was complete silence between the two. Finally, the ditto boy broke it, his tone gentler than before.

                “Pyro, please, look at me. I’m not upset with you. This isn’t your fault.”

Slowly, her head rose, though her hair still obscured most of his face. Still, it was progress, and the ditto hybrid seemed willing to take what he could get. Now that he understood exactly what was wrong, his attitude had changed entirely; he’d become soft and genuine, with no hint of his usual carefree, joking demeanor. After all, that wasn’t what she needed.

                “That’s it. Now, don’t be scared- I’m going to brush the hair out of your face, okay? I promise I won’t touch any of your wounds. If I do, you can bite me. Deal?”

The girl blinked once, confused. Still, she sat motionless, closed her eyes, and allowed him to gently brush the strands out of her vision.  When she opened them again, the ditto was gone- instead, a blue-skinned, dog-like boy stood in his place.

47-06’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to yell. Quickly, the boy put a finger to his lips. “Shh! Shh! It’s me, it’s okay!” The voice was low and gravely, almost animalistic. “This is 59-03. I battled him earlier, and borrowed his form. I think he’ll be able to help me out again.”

Without any further explanation, the boy slowly reached his hand out. His fingers brushed against her cheek, a gentle movement that felt almost like a caress. The sensation lingered on her skin, then spread across her body in a soothing, cool wave.

                “Heal pulse.” When Lyrah looked up at the boy again, he’d returned to his former self, a satisfied grin on his face. Light pink curls tumbled across his forehead, accentuating the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “It’s really useless for me, if I’m completely honest. But I kept his form in my memory for it, anyways. I thought it might come in handy for something like this.”

The pyroar was speechless; the pain was gone, yes, but with it, the scientists’ experiment had been completely disrupted-destroyed. “B-but what about the test results-?”

“Screw their test results.” The boy responded harshly, his expression darkening. “They shouldn’t be doing this to us in the first place. They don’t have to live like this, why should we? That’s why I make their job difficult. Don’t show them anything new I can do if I can help it.”

It took a long time for the girl to reply. “Dit-Ditto… thinking like that won’t get you anywhere. It won’t change anything. Better to just do what they want. They’re nicer that way.”

The ditto didn’t respond, though his face looked almost…disappointed. Had she said something bad? Was he mad at her? But then the look vanished almost as quickly as she had noticed it, replaced by the boy’s ever-delighted smile.

                “Pyro, that’s the first time you’ve called me anything close to a name. I like it.”

                “Well, you have one for me. I figured I may as well give it a shot. It’s not so wordy.”

Ditto just chuckled and shook his head. “That’s what a name is to you? Convenience?...Well, that’ll do for now. We all start somewhere.” A moment passed, and the boy swallowed. “Now, Pyro, I got out a bit later than usual, so I should be heading back now… but I promise, I’ll be back for you. But I won’t be gone so long this time, I promise. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

“…Okay.” He couldn’t promise that. There was nothing he could do to stop them from doing whatever they wanted—but right now, she didn’t want to argue. So quietly, the pyroar curled up on the ground in the same position Ditto had found her in, and allowed him to put her back in her ball. Compliant. Obedient. Submissive. That was what she’d become, even to him. That was what they’d taught her to be.

But what did it bring her? Even when she did as she was told, the results were the same as when she acted out. Fighting. Experiments. Pain. Confinement.  

Only…when she did as she wanted, gave herself that small bit of freedom, as she did the nights she spent with the ditto… It didn’t seem to matter so much. It gave her something in return, even just a small bit of satisfaction. When she acted of her own free will, she didn’t seem to mind so much.

Perhaps Ditto was right. Maybe it was time for a change.