Familial Love - Tumblr Posts

Forgiveness (Sketchtember 2024 - Day 3)

Two sisters come to terms in the afterlife. The lady-in-white cradles her estranged sibling, shedding tears of sadness, remorse, pleading for the other woman to come out of the darkness. They can move on together, says the lady-in-white, because as it turns out, the afterlife isn't as judgmental as she thought it was when she was alive.

Choi: I might have the unpopular opinion that spoilers don't have to be treated like the entire story has been ruined. I can understand if one person feels like they were robbed of the journey, kinda like how my friends got upset when they found out Dumbledore died. Sure, it's shocking, but I never understood people who stopped reading entirely without finding out *why* the death even happened to begin with.

Besides, wouldn't it just give you more context and the thrill of dramatic irony when you can't change the outcome? And maybe, just beyond the death scene, that perhaps there's a more satisfying conclusion to it all? Or maybe I am the weird one.

Food for thought... 😗

Hello there! I hope your day has been going smoothly!

As your requests are currently open (I hope I read it right), may I request Platonic!Jiyan x Sibling!Reader Angst, where reader dies not because they are a midnight ranger, but because of a chronic disease they were diagnosed with?

Reader and Jiyan can be twins, or Jiyan can be the older brother. Up to you!

I hope you have a great day!

A/N: Not sure what to say other than that I love writing angst and that I hope you enjoy this anon, sorry for the wait :)

Contents: Familial Jiyan x Twin!Reader, GN pronouns, angst, short lol, character death

Death crawls through the midnight blue washed streets of the Jinzhou, its flaky claws seeking and scratching. And seek out their victim it did. Found in a cozy bed that reeked of illness and herbal medicine. Ashes of incense laid on top of a long wooden tray fashioned in the looks of a dragon.

There were more dragon motifs sprawled around, in the embroidery of the blankets, on the painting, on tea cups and jewelry, but not one of those could protect the one confined within the bed and the one forever gone. Pale skin glistened with the remnants of sweat and water they were bathed in, and their hair smelled of old flowers in summer heat, and it was only going to get worse should they remain here, hand held by the person closest to them.

Jiyan. The General. The Qingloong. The medic in his youth. Their brother.

He had returned from the front lines at long last for a short reprieve, only to find his beloved sibling in a worse state than last time. It horrified him even more than the sights he encountered in war, and it shook him to the core. What’s worse, he could smell death waiting at the front door, and entering behind his heel after he went into the bedroom..

His hands gingerly held onto their cold hand, knuckles pressed against his forehead as he remains quiet, foolishly hoping warmth would spring to their skin and they’d greet him with a ruffle to his hair and call him silly for worrying so much. He swallows thickly, cheeks wet from the trail his tears left behind and he breathes out a breath so heavy, one would question how the world didn’t cave in where he sat. 

“I love you…so much..” he whispers before lifting his head up, eyes fluttering shut to spare himself the sight of their forever slumbering face, his lips lingering on their knuckles in expression of love they’d never feel again.

They didn’t share just blood, they shared their childhood years, interests, and they shared their mother’s womb together. Their bond was one closer than any other, yet it was severed all the same as any other. 

“I miss you…”

Even with all the knowledge Jiyan could’ve plucked from Jinzhou and from the outside nations, all various medical practices and all kinds of healers, Jiyan couldn’t save them.

Maybe in another life he saves them, but in this one he gets to carry their memories until his own demise, forever haunted by their absence. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

i don't like the popular take that because something is seen as platonic or sibling-like, is that it undermines or invalidates their relationship, or that it denies the level of depth a pairing has — it doesn't. why is romance treated as the only form of love that matters? i would go as far as to argue that any forms of platonic and familial dynamics can transcend boundaries of romantic love, and often times do. there's a rawness to it that can't be replicated elsewhere, a level of devotion that exists and burns. it's so gut - wrenching to have two people who have done nothing but hurt each other grow and accept each other the way family does, really putting emphasis on : i don't like you, but i love you. hurting them, but not letting anyone else hurt them. the jealousy and the envy and the hatred and the love is magnified tenfold.

the worst trait of me and my family is probably this: we never learned to say the word sorry.

i) my best friend and i, we are no people. knives? maybe. liars? definitely. but people? i’m not so sure.

knives were never forged to be tender (what a shame, what a shame) and we too, fall and slay what we meant to protect. him and i, we go for the throat when we clash. we hurt and bleed and oh, i should be terrified, i should be running for my life, but all i am is tired and a bit lonely and would really like his arms around me.

( “can we please stop fighting now.”

“oh god yes please.”)

because time and time again, this man has held my heart in his hands and cleaned its festering wounds with cotton dipped in alcohol (always the healer, always the lover) and wrapped gauze around them with clinical precision. and i have walked through the maze of his head and tended to his withering garden, have dragged the sun and fresh air and all the oceans to the barren land to make it bloom (always the poet, always the lover).

him and i, we have never needed words because we are knives forged in the same fire and at the end of the day, we both know that he will be the one who wordlessly stitches my broken heart and i will be the one who sings him to sleep.

ii) let me paint you a picture:

blue that fades into red that fades into black that fades into blue that fades into red. loud, clashing and nonsensical. a pit in your stomach that was dug with desperation and blunt fingernails. how do you colour anger that is also pain, grief, hate, love, fear and truth? the smell of the paint is foul and clogs your windpipes. blunt fingernails and blue and black and madness. can you bear to look at what you created without flinching?

that’s what anger looks like on my father. a horror. a mottled bruise. a hellfire.

all his life, my father has been scorned, belittled, beaten, spat on. his mother didn’t love him right because her mother didn’t love her right. my dad loves like he hates. something is fucked in his head and heart and his words fade into black and blue and red and this shitshow always ends with me sobbing, bleeding, dying on the floor. my father watches with his hackles raised and his eyes red and wide and glowing. once wounded, an animal never sheathes its claws. it strikes the ones it loves and walks away with its head held high and hands trembling.

but here’s what happens when the curtains close: he pulls me into his arms and brings me tea. he wipes away my tears with hands that has moved mountains to make me smile. he kisses my forehead and tells me that his mom didn’t love him right. my grief is like anger and indignation and love. i wrap my arms around him and cry all the tears he never had the luxury to. who should say sorry, really? is it him or his mom or his mom’s mom or this stupid fucking world? my father has never said the word sorry. he never needed to. this is what love looks like on us. a horror. a mottled bruise. a hellfire.

iii) despite it all, i am not usually an angry person. i take after my father and my mother, after all. i rage like my mother (quick, loud, fire that burns out almost as quickly as it sparked to life) and fight like my father (aim, shoot, bullseye). my sister does something even mildly upsetting and before i know it, i’m cursing her to be miserable till she dies. not even an hour later i’m draping myself over her shoulder and bugging her till she rolls her eyes and smiles ever so slightly.

(“do you have no shame?”

“yeah no i don’t think so.”)

my family and i, we never learned to say the word sorry. because the word sorry never meant sorry, not to us. because at the end of the day, that’s all it is: a word. and it sticks to the back of my tongue and the dents of my molars and gets tangled in my mouth when i try to spit it out. so i grab it by its throat and thread it into my being. i find it so much easier to hide my pathetic inability to do one thing that doesn’t scream that there's something wrong with me with the truth of another three words:

“i love you”

and they are always echoed back to me, just a few million times more tender, in ways only we can understand.

“yeah, i know.”

“that’s great, but there’s no escaping dishes duty.”

“oh, shut up, you.”

“what’s that for?”

a pause and a hum.

“i love you too.”

When Comes The Rain - Chapters 58-61.

My love letter to my dear friend, and absolutely fantastic writer @drosselmeyerwrites. I have loved this story since it first published (and even before she took it down to revamp it).

While there are many memorable moments, I’ve always loved this scene in particular, because it’s wholesome. It’s familial. It’s adoration and protection. It’s love, in different ways. And it’s beautiful.

Arach the Magnificent Mama

Based on @vex-bittys post here

I saw it and my brain immediately told me ‘Do it.’ 

Keep in mind these are how my boys have grown, you may be an owner of these such boys yourself and they are completely different. 

Rating: PG 

Characters: So Far, Zalman the Chain, Magnar the Coral and Arach the Mamba with their multiple baby bitties.

Warning: A LOT of gushing and explanation of what kind of parents the lamias are to their babies here, if you don’t want to read all of that skip to this: ~~~~~~~~

They had come a long way from hissing at each other and fighting over the attention of their Owner Dotchi before being distracted by scarves.

Sure they still loved being pampered and were still very much spoiled in some aspects, but in becoming parents they had since put their focus on less of themselves and more on the tiny babies of the shop, minus Zalman whom very selfless to begin with as he joined them in taking care of the baby bittybones.

It all really started with tiny Tori bitties coming in with their parents on the first wave of bitties to the shop, their pure smiles and very tiny statures made all three Lamias swear to protect them with their lives, and the other bitties types only followed suit until all baby bitties were taken under their wing minus Killer bitties as there were never any baby Killers, always being born as adults. 

Arach raised them to be fearless, Zalman raised them to be emotionally connected and sympathetic while Magnar had totally accidentally raised them to be affectionate no matter his protests, even tiny Nightmares and Horrors didn’t mind cuddles. 

Soon enough a whole generation of bitty adults called the three of them their other parents, calling Magnar their Dad, Zalman their Papa and Arach their Mama. 

Arach merely preened whenever he was called this as not only was he given such pride in being called such, but he was the only one to be called that! As it should be in his eyes, Magnar and Zalman could have the male references for all he cared, there would always be two while he was one! 

Magnar always blushed a little at the endearment, even when he stopped hiding in his hood and shouting he wasn’t to the unaffected little bitties that showered him in the affection only tiny children could give-, Zalman happily welcoming snuggles and calls of Papa to him for any children, and every night he was cuddled by many Murders attaching to the only non-Sans type lamia along with fluffy Toriel-types and Teeth bitties, bitty piles being a real thing.

Even if there were a few rough patches the three of them powered through, Arach blowing their accomplishments way out of proportion to make them feel important and was always sought out to do physical activity with, Magnar always there to be given affection and to relax with, and Zalman there whenever the other two were in a panic any time that a baby gained a fever and one to lend a sympathetic ear canal to the children, all three are very heavily attached to the babies, and it was when the adults started getting adopted that they were forced to accept their babies wouldn’t be there forever. 

Even if Arach went on a rampage, Magnar couldn’t stop crying and Zalman had to take a walk to get ahold of himself for a while, it didn’t stop them from absolutely covering the babies with love before they left though. 

However... Neither three would know that such a dynamic was going to be broken. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Arach was on Orb watch, there being a nest they created filled with orbs carrying still developing babies, orbs being the thing used to carry babies if they had no real parents to carry them. 

He slithered among them, checking on them as this new batch just came earlier. They were color-coded to the bitties, Toriel bitties being pale purple with streaks of white, Raggedies being pure red, Queenies being a royal blue, Empresses having a deep purple color like he did, Mumchers being pale purple with streaks of lime green and cracks in it, Horror having a red like fresh blood, and Teeth having white with streaks of red, Nightmare and Dream bitties always creating a yin-yang swirl in theirs and Murders being pale blue and red and a swirl of the two. 

Everything seemed to be going well, until he finally noticed it. 

A pure red orb with cracks in it. 

A raggedy-mumcher. 

Arach felt shock course through his whole body while watching it.  

The chance of getting such a bitty at such an early time of the shop was baffling, sure the shop had a few but they were all adults and had not been born, but created. 

The likelihood of the little bitty having a fragile mental state that would help her never get adopted was nearly astronomical, rarely did anyone ever want a Mumcher in the first place, let alone a much more violent and sensitive one.

Before he could even finish his thoughts he found his body already wrapped around the orb as he laid his skull against it, life pulsing in his coils as he instinctually behaved as everyone called him: a mama.  

“ NO ONE WILL HURT YOU LITTLE ONE.” He assured the life inside with a hiss, “ YOU’RE MY SSSSSPECIAL HATCHLING.”

For the rest of the night he stayed with the Orb, watching over the area and making sure the other orbs were safe and functioning properly, never once leaving it’s side as morning came, where Arach abrasively shook the other two awake and let it be known the three of them now officially their own child. 

Daddy's Girl (Sukuna x FemChildReader [familial]) HCs

So reader is some little girl that curiously ate Sukuna's finger. This leads to the King of curses accidentally adopting you, --some dumb, fatherless kid. Lmao

Fluff cuz i want soft wholesome sukuna and no, i'm not projecting. Stop thinking that, no one will ever believe you 🔫🙃

Not proof-read but still good, if i say so myself ;>

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-When he first comes into your mind, he's shook for a moment then appalled the next.

-"Out of all the humans in this world, it's this weakling i've coveted."

-rolls his eyes and tries to rethunk how he'll ever come to his true form from a puny girl such as yourself.

-Dw tho, he thinks your funny. As in he thinks you're a dumbass when he watches you go about your daily life.

-Pops in from your cheek to tell you to watch where you're going when you almost walked into a lamp pole, or a bustling street of cars.

-Calls you "brat" and "dumb/foolish girl," followed by an unecessarily berating comment.

-Eventually, that sensitive part of you kicks in at times and his words get to you. You're just a kid after all. So now he's forced to do things he wouldn't usually do:

-"Stop crying, it's boring and the noise is unpleasant." He'd grumble in your head, noting to ease up on his words. For his sake, of course.

-There was a time when you had a nightmare of your father's passing. Your cries were so unpleasant that Sukuna had to make a visit into your little night terror.

-When you see him there, you run to him for a hug. Not thinking twice about wrapping your arms around him securely for comfort.

-Stiffens when he feels your little arms around him. He does notice that your crying stopped so he let's you. He just wants some quiet time, is all.

-When you finally calm, he tries to put your conciousness to rest. Only for you to end up falling asleep with his fingers held by your hand.

-Later calls you things like, "Little one" or "Child," in a stern manner. He's just doing that to belittle you so you always know you're place.

-You accidentally called him "Papa" once, and he's accidentally surprised, and accidentally didn't hate it.

-He did however hate when Gojo found out about you and took you in. Making sure to grumble about every little thing he does for you.

-When you're going about your little elementary day, he reminds you to pay attention.

-Helps you with homework. He says it's because he's proving he's superior to Gojo as a mentor, not because he cares about you.

-Could never find it in his cold, dead beat heart to hurt you. Quite the opposite actually, would rather carry you away securely in his arms as those who even thought of hurting you, burns away behind his back.

-He figures after he returns to his final form, he'll keep you. Only because he tolerates you, his little girl amusing nuisance. Nothing more.

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I'm baaack y'all :D

Winter break is around the corner and i finally have the brain to write again. I've actually never sat and watched the Jjk anime lol

Maybe in the break, I will.

-oh, and anyone has permission to make this into a full fledged fic 👀

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Tags:

You know what I love? The little ways we tell each other that we love them.

My sister and I say “I love you with all of myself,” which we started saying after binge-watching The Dragon Prince

My other sister and I have a handshake that is basically a fist bump into the ASL sign for “I love you” and we even do this on FaceTime or zoom when we can’t do it in person

My friend doesn’t like physical touch but that’s my love language, so we wrap our pinkies together like a pinky promise. I call it a [friends name redacted]-hug or a pinky hug

My cousin and I send memes back and forth to show our love and appreciation of each other

You don’t have to physically say “I love you” to let someone know how much you care for them and I think that’s wonderful

Alright, so this is pretty much a set up from past me to actually do this.

So, recently, I've been extremely lonely and have been trying to find a way to fill that void. It went from me trying to play some mmorpgs to find friends, to giving up and just accepting company in 2D men by playing some visual novels.

I played Under Maintenance and am working on getting all the endings in A Date With Death and while I loved both those games, they brought me back to my roots of writing romance.

Since it's February and I'm single I was thinking about relationships and got these two idea.

1

I've never written a rom com before and after playing Under Maintenance I wanted to try my hand at one and got a super cute idea.

The concept is an struggling writer who works at a bookstore who starts to pull the attention of her boss after spit taking at one of his jokes at a company party. His interest in her soon spirals and he sees how miserable she is at work. He then gives her a week to quit or he'll fire her himself.

Wanting a break from her entire life, an upcoming holiday is the perfect time to try and relax. While going to see her family at her hometown, she's met with someone else who also happens to have family there, no one other than her boss--the one who's about to fire her.

I decided to make this a little Nano, but lord knows I'm gonna give up and miss my deadline. So, to try and make things possoble for me, I actually started on Jan 23 and got a decent 12k words already.

It you're interested, wish me luck in actually finishing it and I'll likely have some stuff to post about after this next thing I have planned.

2

Again, this is a set up from past me, but also in my bout of loneliness, I started to think about how much I hate the culture that only people you're romantically involved with can show you love and appreciation for your time and pressence. Personally, I would love to celbrate Valentine's day with friends, just to show them how much I care for them.

My rambling aside, this made me want to showcase something related to this and while I had another idea, I scrapped it for this one!

For every day in February, I'm going to post a short story about the many relationships in my stories.

My MC Cassie has TONS of relationships, so I figured it'd be best to show it by giving little in-universe stories about the romantic, platonic, and familial love she experiences with everyone I've brought to life.

This is just my small way of sharing all kinds of love and to show how we don't just have to me romantic to love each other.

So, hopefully, I won't flake on myself and I'll have some of it done by this time this post is up.

But, if you're interested, I hope you enjoy reading and I also want you to know that love comes in all shapes ad sizes so don't feel like you can't have what everyone else does, you just have to find it in your own way ☺

🍂

So, two of my best friends are getting into relationships, at a time of our life where we're going to be splitting up soon. Nearly all of my closest friends are staying in their home town and I'm moving to a completely new city.

It's a scary prospect, and it got me thinking about love and different types of love. I love my friends and I love my parents, but I've never loved someone romantically.

I know romantic love, like any sort of love, isn't a perfect fairy-tale story. In fact, I think I'd hate it if it was.

I want something real with someone who is real, and I'm really happy for the friends of mine who have found that.

I want to be able to pull someone close, kiss them gently, while telling them that I love them, but I need them to fuck off so I can continue writing. I want someone who will laugh when I say things like that.

I think romantic love, like other types of love, has got to be about trust, mutual respect, and a certain amount of fun, or you'd never get through it.

I'm happy for all of my friends who have found that, and I'm excited for when it will be my turn.

Until then, I have a million different types of love to keep me going. And that is enough for some people permanently. Romantic love is not something everyone needs, and I want everyone who follows me, or sees this, to know that, when I talk about romantic love like this, I know that others don't always feel that way, and I support them 100%.

Sorry for the little end rant.

(not my gif)

My dad is the funniest guy in the entire world and everyone needs to acknowledge this right now