Kitsch and Kyle's post-canon fix it because fuck you
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One cannot define grief as a solid entity; It shifts and changes like the tide, rising and falling, waxing and waning. Its unexpectedness rips off a layer of one's life like a band-aid, and an exposed underbelly is never pretty. J is no exception.
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Micro updates with syntax fixes, illustrations for chapter 6 are up :)
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she asks if I want more wine, more blankets, more rest, more hands delicately placed, smoothing out hair.
more
more;the answer is always yes.
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In the hushed whispers of dawn, the sky, an azure expanse, serenades a creature whose wings have known the cruel bite of shears. The wind is a tender lover to downy feathers no longer bound by the earth's unyielding grasp, coaxing it to leap into the embrace of the horizon.
The siren’s call is irresistible, but the shadow of the ground looms large, a delicate balancing act on the razor's edge between the familiar nest and the vast unknown.
Thus, the bird lingers.
(A nuzi fic centered around healing from trauma. Takes place before the start of Requiem—not required reading but will make the experience more enjoyable)
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Here she was finally, at the end of the end of the world.
Though…considering it had only been a few hours since the fight, It was hard for her to even really imagine it being over—Still standing on the same cliff edge amidst wrecked metal and rock where she made good on the promise to herself that she would assimilate the primary solver host, or die trying.
Uzi Doorman did both.
Alternatively, Uzi kicks Cyn's ass, saves the universe and gets the guy of her dreams. The hard part is everything that comes after.
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