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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “You know,” Olruggio says, roughly. He doesn’t move to take Qifrey’s hand again. “You know. You can’t not know, Qifrey.”

    Qifrey just looks at him. “I do.”

    The rain continues falling.

    (And so Olruggio forgets. And he inevitably figures it out again, because of course he does; and he inevitably chooses to forget again, and again, and again, because his heart is always the same. The story is always the same. Like a tale from under a silverwood tree, like a myth from the days of old, not so much tied by the constraints of the narrative so much as being narrative itself. Antigone must bury her brother. Iphigenia must be put to death. At a thousand turns, in a thousand ways, Orpheus must turn, and he must look, again, and again.

    And Olruggio forgets.)

    There is an old story about a witch and a silverwood tree.

    Language:
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    01 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Olruggio wrapped his arms around Qifrey’s waist and pulled him close. He rested his chin on Qifrey’s shoulder, warm and real and solid. Qifrey returned the gesture, his eye sliding shut. He let out a breath. They remained that way for a long while, leaning against each other. This could not ease Qifrey—he’d managed a delicate balance that allowed him to indulge in these small ways while retaining his ever-present fear—but Olruggio’s weight became heavier and heavier as he relaxed into it.

    Qifrey could do these things for Olruggio; he could take care of him, though it would never make up for everything that he had done.
    -
    Qifrey and Olruggio build themselves a home. The days pass in the closest thing to domestic bliss that Qifrey can manage. It cannot last.

    Language:
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    31 May 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 14

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    Wolfwood comes back at the worst times. It’s been two hundred years since he died. Two hundred years, three days, four hours and thirteen seconds. That is to say, a long time. And Vash thinks about him all the time. He thinks about him drunk out of his mind. Thinks about him while Vash is running and shooting and hunkering down in the desert to sleep, gazing up at the broken glass sky. Vash thinks about Wolfwood when he goes to visit the girls, sitting in the lot where their graves are. Vash smiles at their families, before slinking back out into the desert. He sees Wolfwood in the shadows that fall and the cigarettes hanging off mouths. He’s in the heat of the sun and the cool of the night, the long empty halls of ship three that Vash tends to haunt. And now he’s in Vash’s throat and chest while Vash is on his stomach in a musty smelling bed.

    Language:
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    07 Apr 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 10

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    They've both learned to live in the space between knowing and saying. It's a fragile space. Comforting, in its way. As long as they don't speak it, there's still room for tomorrow to be different.

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    10
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    18 Mar 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 72

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    Melanie tries to pick up the pieces after her boys finally came home. Somehow, the fact Nico found a boyfriend like Vash was the most surprising part in all of this.

    They...𝘢𝘳𝘦 dating, right?

    Language:
    English
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    05 Mar 2026