#spatrot

                            ❝  hey,  do  you  think  they’d  survive  the  trip  back  home?  ❞  pale  fingertips  (  ones  that  have  mercilessly  cut  enemies  down  )  gently  glide  alongside  vibrant,  pink  petals.  their  buttery  soft  texture  has  her  smile.  temari  had  always  loved  flowers.  although  growing  up  in  the  harsh  desserts,  lush  floral  were  scarce.  ❝  i  was  thinking  gaara  could  use  some  for  the  office.  the  house  could  use  a  little  brightening  up  as  well.  ❞

    @spatrot​ INQUIRED:   “  One of us is lying.  ” * hitch  [ MEME : always accepting ]

Lying.   Such  baseless  accusations   sounded   good   to  be  true.  If   only   the  words  that  spills  out   in  her  mouth  were   falsehood,  a  skit of   deception.  Then  Hanji  wouldn’t   be  here  to  begin  with.

Though  none  of   what  she  had  said   was   a  lie,   she   was  in  there,  she  saw  everything that   had  happened  with   her  bare  eyes,   she   was  one  of  the  living  remains  of   what  Survey  Corpse  used  to  be  and   she  will  continue  on  it’s   legacy;  therefore ,  despite  how  heavy  and  difficult  it  was  for   her  to   tell  the   truth, she   has   to  , it’s  what  the  least  she  could  do  as  a  member  of  the  Survey  Corpse  and  it’s  next  commander.

“ I’d  rather  for  what  I  said   to  be  lie  as  well.  In  fact  I’d  rather  for   them  to  be  still  here,  living   ,   breathing , celebrating  on   how far   their   hard  work  for  humanity  had  attained.. “  She   stated,   her  lone  eye  gazing  emptily  at   the  afternoon  sky,  watching  birds fly  so  freely;  so  peacefully before  continuing  on  with  a  sigh. 

“ But it’s   not   that  easy...  nothing   is  easy   to  begin  with...”

And then  a  brief  silence  succumbed  them.

Kirishima's eyes widened for just a moment. He forgot how good of an observer Tsuyu was. Maybe not that surprising, he wasn’t as close to her as to some of the others. Which meant little for him, he cared about her nonetheless. Still felt bad about what happened back then, even if he didn’t regret going through with the plan. 

Still, he was surprised she paid him any mind.

meme. || accepting. || @spatrot​

     he doesn’t doubt it’s true. who hasn’t known regret? who hasn’t known hatred? he has. he feels them both now, pulsing along with the pain behind his eyes. his hand curls on the arm of his chair, and he stares ahead of him instead of meeting thirteen’s gaze.

     he doesn’t want to think of nemuri dying with regret or hatred. he doesn’t want to think of nemuri dying, period, but it’s happened. it’s happened, and he’s down a friend, again.

     he never had very many to begin with. was he always going to be this bad at keeping them? was he always going to be looking away while they died behind him?

All teams were ordered to stop Shigaraki’s escape, but Ochako ran towards the site for a different plight. ‘ ...But… if the alternative is doing nothing and regretting it… then I’d be happier jumping in. ’  Surrendering to the call of Polaris like a lost sailor at sea, her legs began to move / taking off before her mind could catch up to the scene around her :  under the embodiment of Jupiter’s insatiable wrath, a city of starlight reduced to a snow of dust and shards of broken echoes / frigid and biting like an autumn’s wind incinerating spring’s last hold. Who protects the heroes when they need protecting ?  She needed to go faster ( Too slow ! ). Ignoring her blistering soles / bones strained and bending / ignoring her body’s pleas to take a moment / a splinter of time, with clenched teeth and furrowed brows, she pushed forward / slipping through the cracks of an upturned glass :  into the jaws of fire and brimstone. 

However, she arrived late ( Too slow ! ). 

As if she was under the effect of a quirk she had not yet activated, she took a step back / legs wobbling and nausea sparked as Pluto descended across a barren eve / heliosphere displaced as a cemetery of the cosmos’ gems :  astral light shimmering darkly in a field of volcanic mist / candle wicks violently choked to soot with Mercury’s resilience now an embalmed shadow. The pyre ignites. Normally glimmering eyes deflated beneath declining oak :  a harder reality to swallow when she could now name the heroes skirting the horizon of a bank of roses / torn and haunted. Gotta save them... Ryukyu. Neijire. Aizawa. Todoroki. Deku. B—-  Fortunately, Neptune abruptly appeared before her like Venus :  pushing her past the death zone’s crest with the repetition of her name and a tender sliver of care. Iida brought her to the medics to assist :  unclouding her vision / spindling twilight’s buoyancy as she followed her given role. There are still lives... that can be saved. 

Or until she was directed towards a summer’s faint breath — harshly dropped from his place as the sky’s eye / over a bed of drowned / flaming blue irises :  wilting / wailing / acrid voices like sirens. She could hardly recall the steps taken to align the moon over the echo of the sun, but her gaze landed over the sharp lines of his cheeks, his brows, his jaw — or where she should have seen the atlas of the familiar golden constellation. Instead, all she sees is blood. Red :  the brush stroke of Mars / a shade that began to grow and burn in a meadow of Earth’s roots / a hue slowly becoming one she hoped to see in the hushed hour of sprouting sunsets. But now ?  It was simply a stain of crimson spider lilies; eclipsing over the expectant glow of furiously blooming cardinal gardenias / dim like embers under frosted glass. She found herself not liking so much red on him. 

The pyre spread in her chest / ever growing / now a forest fire :  an ache she can’t quite pinpoint, but doused in kerosene and gasoline as her eyes glided across his form / suffocating as the air within her lungs melted into nebulas of coiling / boiling smoke. At the time, wasn’t there more I could have done ...?  The heated brand of the afterimage of a caustic memory sinks further / searing / pricking / embedding an unwanted home beneath her lashes with every blink she takes :  trapping her with the sight of Sir Nighteye pulled across the flickering edge of life and death — a hole crawling and clawing its inked edges across the expanse of overstretched scars. Guilt and regret wrapped its searing chains / slotted into place again / submerging her into the depths of a still midnight lake / an unbroken surface as its weight clotted her nerves. No... Not again. She can’t let it happen again. She reached forth / for palms with supernovas veiled beneath violet bruises to bring this fallen star back into flight. Gravity dismissed at the tips of her fingers, she gently set him afloat within her orbit / embraced in her arms as she held her breath — afraid the simplest sound could snap his tether. 

ʟɪɴᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄʀʏ || accepting @spatrot