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corvidcall · 2 years

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None Of You Know What Haiku Are

I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.

If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?

Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!

First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.

For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.

In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).

Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?

Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.

(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)

Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.

Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.

Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:

古池や　蛙飛び込む　水の音 (Furu ike ya　kawazu tobikomu　mizu no oto) (The old pond — A frog jumps in The sound of the water.)

You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.

English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.

Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.

Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)

The piercing chill I feel: my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom, under my heel

We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.

"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:

meteor shower . . . a gentle wave wets our sandals

When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.

"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?

I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards

a year at most . . . we pretend to watch the hummingbirds

Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Further reading:

Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine

#poetry #haiku #writing #literature #anime life #long post #i want to apologize but i had to get something off my chest #and the thing was. i love haiku #and when i see posts on here about haiku. i get so angy.#well ok i really get more disappointed bc nobody is really engaging with the form on its own terms #anyway i hope you enjoy some of my favorite haiku because theyre in there!!!!!#i didnt really get into the history of haiku. and i also did not get into why i got really into it #but i will say that i was really inspired by Jacob Geller's video A Thousand Ways of Seeing a Forest #which is a lot about translation #(which i mean. as an interpreter AND a poetry-enjoyer. really appealed to me lol)

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emacrow · 2 months

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The justice league were at their wits ends as Klarion had been reaking havoc for 8 and half months for some apparent reasons that even the villains had no idea why he was so upsets.

To the point they had Constantine who look like he went through fresh hell and was covered in a splattered of glowing green goop from head to toe (lararus pits..?), who just started writing on the floor in every star like constellation as he started chanting in the song to.. space is so cool?!?!

Only for it to actually work, as line white gloved like hand pull itself out going from eldritch horror to form itsslf into to a very pissed, and very pregnant looking floating..boy??

"KLARION, You %&#&×*$ #&@!!!" Shouted floating boy who just.. wait did he crossed the protection barrier around the summoning circle...?!?

Only for one of the bat, probably Tim to noticed klarion getting his ass grassed into the literal ground by this very pissed off entity.

"Look what you did to me, sweet gone with the wind jerk and not one message returned?!?!?

Most of the males in the Justice league and Villain group flinched when this obvious pissed off pregnant entity kicked klarion directly in the mother pearls.

As they slowly realized one thing all together.

oh... OH,.. Oh No..

Meanwhile Jason is in a chair with glowing green covered popcorn with Dani at his apartment watching this on live TV.

"Should we tell danny that Lex was taking klarion's mail for 8 months due to them being ectoplasm concentrated covered..?" Jason said as he munched on popcorn, watching mostly danny beating the absolute soul of poor klarion who is obviously didn't realize his danny was pregnant the entire time.

"Nah, let danny take his frustration out first, it only fair for him considering klarion owed him for forgetting their anniversary." Dani said eating a bucket of fudge brownies.

#dp x dc crossover #klarion the witch boy #trans danny phantom #this is my first post #unplanned pregnancy #john constantine #danny is a mom #danny phantom is angy #kyptonite is ectoplasm #writing prompt #klarion x danny

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thoughtkick · 11 months

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At an early age I learned that people make mistakes, and you have to decide if their mistakes are bigger than your love for them.

Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

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perfectfeelings · 1 month

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Sometimes you could be doing everything right and thing will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.

Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

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sweatandwoe · 9 months

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Lock your Ao3 accounts from public viewing, make it that only registered users can see it

Google's new AI is not just targeting your Google docs

It's going for anything publicly available. Which means the works you posted lovingly, for free can be used by Google in their scrapping without credit. Google has admitted this and is currently facing a class action lawsuit about it, but nothing they're doing is technically illegal because no ai laws

Private your shit, don't use Google docs or web-based/internet connected versions of Microsoft Word. If anyone has links to free writing sources, please reblog with them.

#writing #google docs #ao3 #angy i hate companies

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norrisgrl · 7 months

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࣭ 𝆬 ୨୧ I'll always be here | LN4

Lando Norris x reader

Author's note: hiii everyone!!♡ this is my first ever time writing anything like this so there's probably a few mistakes and it's not very long, but i hope you guys enjoy it:) this was inspired by the quali from today btw, i'm still recovering but yeah:( happy reading !!<3

(also english isn't my first language so sorry for the grammar mistakes)

As the sun was coming down its golden rays were covering the track, a sea of disappointment consuming Lando’s body as he was coming out of the car after a tough qualifying session that left him questioning every turn and every decision he had made. The disappointment weighed on him, his face etched with frustration.

Your heart was aching as you saw Lando so frustrated with himself on the screens, you knew that this was going to take a toll on him. As you saw him approaching the garage you could sense the storm of self-doubt raging within him, the anger and the frustration, he just wanted to show the people who supported him and the team that he was capable of bringing good results.

Without hesitation, you moved to him, enveloping him in a comforting hug. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, and he nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck, finding solace in your familiar and sweet scent, "I know this wasn't the result you were expecting," you whispered, your voice a soothing balm against his troubled thoughts. Your hands gently caressed his back, offering reassurance. "But even so, you still manage to make me proud," you continued, a soft smile gracing your lips. "And I'm sure you don't only make me proud, but everyone else around here too," you added as Lando was now staring into your eyes, at that moment, he saw not disappointment but unwavering support and love.

Lando knew that his words were not going to be able to express the hurricane of emotions he was feeling inside, he reached up and gently cupped your cheek with his hand, his thumb caressing your skin gently, completely ignoring the surrounding people around you both, "I love you Y/N’’, his eyes never leaving yours, which you didn’t mind because to you his eyes were like a work of art that you could stare at all day. As his thumb kept brushing against your skin he let out a soft sigh, his mind trying to find the right words to say, "You being here with me it’s all I need right now." And with those final words, he pressed his lips against yours in a soft and tender kiss. The weight of the not so ideal results now faded into the background, replaced by a sense of gratitude for the person he had by his side.

#lando norris #ln4 #formula 1 #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando x reader #ln4 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #f1 fic #f1 one shot #angie's writing☆

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pumpkin-patch-cat · 3 months

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⸸ Savior ⸸

Satan x Fem! Reader (female presenting)

🔞 NSFW. Minors DNI.🔞

Warnings: rough penetration, semi-conciousness, language

AN: Just a little brainrot I've had cookin' in my head and decided to share with the class. As per usual, please pardon any grammatical errors.

That familiar pain. The burning ache.

‘Not again’

You look to your side toward Satan in desperation as your stride slows, your lungs yearning to take unimpeded breaths of air but each time you breath in, it's as if you're inhaling needles and foreign ozone.

“S-satan..” You croak, hastily seeking his attention by reaching for his sleeve, but the attentive king had already noticed. With no Sitri and Ppyong present, the king couldn't be happier. But not so much knowing this phenomenon plagues you and causes you pain. Pain not inflicted by his own hands, that is.

“Your room. Now” He commands with a knowing smile.

He grabs your hand, you shut your eyes, desperately trying to conjure up the familiar space, but alas, your thoughts are repeatedly interrupted by panic. You simply can not take in a good enough breath to maintain your train of thought.

“Y/n, hurry” Satan's stern voice presses. He grips your shoulders, noting the tears pricking your eyes when you open them in panic once again.

“c-can’t” you inhale as sharply as you can to gather any air that would make it through.

You claw at your throat with one hand while holding his forearm with the other in a silent cry for help.

“Shit” Satan frowns, then scans the area quickly. Most buildings are dilapidated and have fallen to ruin. ‘Damn angels’ he thinks, dragging you further down the deserted street in hopes of finding a space untouched by violence. If he had it his way, he'd fuck you where you stood, but that was reckless.

You continue to take in short puffs of air, wheezing now, nearly losing your footing.

Satan steadies you with a protective grip on your forearm, and when you both come to a stop near a darkened alley, he makes an executive decision.

“Fuck it”

It'll have to do.

It's dark and dank. Musty with the smell of dry rotted wood and moldy, wet brick. A stark contrast to the evening's inviting and dusky setting sun outside of the alley. Satan drags you in deeper, avoiding a few leaky pipes, debris, and puddles, continuously on alert to be sure no angels are on your heels.

Once the man is satisfied with a spot closest to a dead-end, the king turns and graces you with one of his signature kisses without hesitation. In the back of his mind, he's unsure if the transfer of energy will work without the proper head space, but right now there's no time to hypothesize.

His kiss deepens when a pained whimper escapes your lips.

He needs to hurry, less he lose his favorite human.

Through your dazed expression you feel the cold chill and rough surface of something hard pressed to your back.

“I've got you…” He murmurs against your lips and presses you closer against the wall, quickly reaching down to undo and slip your bottoms from your hips, the tell tale sound of a belt buckle and zipper of his jumpsuit follows after. Fabric now left to pool at both your feet.

Even in dire times, his human was still beautiful.

With his boxers at his hips, the king hoists you up by the ass, pressing against you, his dick now free and already impossibly hard knowing your most precious space is currently his for the taking.

Using the wall to keep you sandwiched against his broad chest, Satan pistons your pussy without warm-up or warning; relishing in the tight squeeze and slowly moistening flesh fighting to adjust to the intrusion. He'll apologize later…maybe.

“Argh!” A strangled cry escapes your throat despite the innate lack of air, to which a hand comes down over your mouth to quickly muffle the sounds, forcing you to attempt harsh breaths through your nose.

“Easy, little lamb. You don't want those creatures to interrupt our fun, do you?” he offers quietly.

The only response he receives comes in the form of whimpers each time he re-enters, those red eyes keeping you locked in a dazed trance.

The demon thrusts harshly upward, forgoing a lazy pace and opting for one that's sure to leave your insides bruised. His large hand grips your ass, while his other moves from your mouth to hold your thigh, guiding you up and down.

While the blooming pleasure feels incredible, it's nearly drowned out by your lack of air supply. The energy isn't being absorbed fast enough and your vision starts to go dim. You claw at Satan's shoulder, breaking skin in an attempt to stay grounded and push through the fog, but the tightness in your chest is nearly unbearable.

“Stay with me, y/n. Fuck…you feel so good…That's right, abuse my flesh. Use me!” Satan muses through clenched teeth and pushes in deeper, digging his nails into the soft fat of your ass.

Your body feels like jello. You feel as though you're underwater. Your eyes begin to roll, practically a limp, play-thing in the demon's arms, and it only spurs him on.

The demon shifts his hips in a way that manages to prod against a more sensitive spot deep within your pussy, pushing out another strangled cry from your near empty lungs. His lips connect with yours again to swallow the sound.

“Look at my little human. At the presepist of death, yet drunk off the delicious burn of pleasure…” he coos near your jaw as it goes slack in a silent scream. Your head weightlessly pulls to the side just a bit, only to be yanked back upright abruptly by the chin.

“Look at me, y/n. Hey…HEY. Focus” he taps your cheek a bit rougher than intended, but it brings your fucked out, panicked eyes back to his face.

God, you were gorgeous.

Terror and bliss playing tug of war with your features, and his heart. Fervent groans of both pain and ecstacy continuously escaping your throat. He wished he could take a picture. To freeze the expression on your face in time.

To show you…to tease you…

To piss you off.

The thought of your rage upon seeing yourself in such a vulnerable state of disarray had the demon's eyes crossing slightly, tongue lapping out and dripping with saliva into the space between your bodies. His dick engorged further as he envisioned the twisted, raw anger in your words as you scolded him for his behavior.

A bit of liquid dripped down the side of his face and over his cheek. He licked it away greedily when it reached his lips; the taste salty and familiar - his horns were leaking. He felt heavy against your walls, his balls clapped rhythmically against your ass cheeks to the beat of each relentless plunge within. You were so wet around him, for him, and it only increased the faster he moved. That's a good thing. It meant you were still alive. You were still his.

Despite your slowly deteriorating state, the king could feel the needy squeeze of your pussy keeping him locked deep inside - you were close.

“Just like that.” he breathes, brows creased in concentration.

The muscles of Satan's ass flexed and relaxed, forcing you upward in his grip.

The darkness that licked at the edges of your vision remained, but the familiar burn in your core was smoldering - growing.

“S-satan” you manage to croak again, barely above a whisper. You held on to the wefts of hair on his shoulders like anchors with what little strength you had, managing to catch the glimmer of two crimson, half lidded eyes boring into your face through the glaze clouding your vision.

“Cum for me, little lamb. Let me be your savior. Pray to me. Let me be your God” He grinned above you, face flushed red and wild.

The feeling was damn near torture. Being tugged back and forth between consciousness and a mental, black void that threatened to swallow you whole, but it did not extinguish the growing flame in your gut, nay, it pushed you further; a feeling akin to a taut rubber band.

Satan set a punishing rhythm then, the sound of wet flesh colliding together bounced off the walls around you both. His hips began to sputter, his thrusts slowed to harsh grinding where the tight curls of his pubic hair rubbed deliciously against your throbbing clit.

“S-satan…I..cum-ing!”

The moment the proverbial rubber band snapped was the moment an orgasm so forceful--so earth shattering--rocked through your arched body, and set your senses alight.

Your only warning from the demon was a drawn-out grunt that reverberated deep in his chest and his teeth coming down to latch onto your shoulder to muffle his own sounds.

A rush of hot warmth coats your insides simultaneously, and color bursts forth into your vision; air once again floods your lungs with the deepest of breaths.

In the few moments following, the only thing you remembered was a gentle hand resting on your cheek and the words 'sleep now' being uttered before your world went black.

⸸⸸⸸⸸

“You did so well. But now you need rest” The king had you dressed, as best as he could anyways, and in his arms bridal style heading for home.

Although the transfer worked and he managed to save you, it was hard to ignore the small sense of dread that bottomed out in his stomach seeing you in distress.

The further he walked, cradling your body against his, your breaths now even, he contemplated.

In the beginning, the possessiveness he felt for you had been brought on by territorial instincts nurtured by your connection to Solomon, but the longer he spent time with you, his idea of who you were had started to change.

You were interesting for many reasons, reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, and both Ppyong and Sitri had taken a liking to you as well, though in a way that felt completely different from Solomon's time in hell.

Did that make him…happy? It's been a long time since he felt an ounce of happiness, depression was unkind like that. But you. Your presence had started to fan those flames. The thought brought a small smile to his face.

“What are you doing to me, y/n?” He asks quietly, sweeping his eyes over your relaxed, sleeping face. An inkling of warmth tingling in his chest.

Satan wasn't sure what was going on, but in that moment, he vowed to be there when you needed him. To stay by your side and protect you.

#*clings to Satan*#angy king is love #“I got chu boo” vibes #whb satan x reader #whb satan #whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#fanfic #writing

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quotefeeling · 2 months

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Sometimes you could be doing everything right and thing will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.

Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

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resqectable · 2 years

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I can’t change where I come from or what I’ve been through, so why should I be ashamed of what makes me, me?

Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

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hellitwasyoufirstsergeant · 2 years

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“I’m so lonely” - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: you finally confess to Eddie how lonely you’ve been feeling. Emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: my first posted ST fic! I’m so nervous. I hope people enjoy this, it may or may not have been heavily inspired by my own feelings of loneliness. If only I had an Eddie lol. Please reblog or comment if you enjoy my work! My requests are open, my rules can be found in my navigation post which is linked in my bio >3

Warnings: discussions of loneliness. Reader sits in Eddie’s lap but no mention is made of size or appearance of the reader. 'Princess' is used as a term of endearment but the reader is gender neutral. No use of Y/N. Not proofread sorry

Word Count: 1.3k

Eddie Munson was the best boyfriend on the planet. You were certain that no one could hold a candle to your Eddie.

He told you he loved you a hundred times a day - quite literally, he always counted. He’d gaze at you like you’d hung the moon, even when he was meant to be focused on the movie showing in the cinema or the road in front of him as he drove his van. He’d make sure you drank enough water every single day. He’d tie up your shoelaces if they came undone in the street. He was perceptive enough to realise whenever something was wrong, and he’d listen while you vented, before attempting to kiss the hurt away. Eddie was everything to you. But that was part of the problem.

Eddie wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was your best friend. Which sounds cute. Yet he was your best friend because he was your only friend. Sure, you had fun with Robin and Steve, and occasionally you and Eddie would invite Max and Lucas over to his trailer for a movie night. Although you loved your family, it was a small one.

In essence, you often felt that the only person you made a difference to in life was Eddie. That the only person who’d notice your absence was Eddie. Sometimes you’d berate yourself for feeling this way - ‘why isn’t that enough?’ - but it simply wasn’t.

Eddie made you feel loved, constantly. He made you feel seen, he made you feel heard, he made you feel beautiful.

But whenever he was gone, the loneliness would gnaw away inside you, consuming your mind. A sense of isolation from those around you grew. You could be sitting next to someone on the sofa but they might as well have been a million miles away. The nights you didn’t spend with Eddie, you’d cry and cry until you fell into an exhausted stupor and finally drifted off to sleep.

Loneliness had even begun to creep into your moments with Eddie. Sometimes you’d drift off into your own little world, especially when he’d mention something he’d done with his own friends, which served as a painful reminder that you didn’t really have any of your own.

He’d noticed lately that your face seemed to pinch into a frown more often. He tried to convince himself that your sorrowful expressions weren’t because of him, but you had been pulling away lately, skipping plans and coming up with bullshit excuses.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Eddie murmurs as he plops down on the bed next to you. You silently curse whichever member of your family had let him in the house. Because Eddie is right, you have been avoiding him.

“No I haven’t,” you mumble back, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“C’mon, don’t lie to me. Please.” If you hear the quiver in his plea, you don’t acknowledge it.

“Am not.” Eddie huffs at your second lie, dropping off the bed and coming to kneel at your feet. The way his big soft eyes gaze up at you reminds you of the labrador you had as a kid and the way it would beg for treats. Eddie, on the other hand, was begging for something more serious.

“I love you.” Your voice breaks slightly and you sigh deeply, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. You squeeze them shut, willing them away, but you can feel Eddie’s eyes glued to your face and the tears can’t help but fall. They betray you, as if your poor attempts at lying hadn’t already.

“I love you too baby.” He knows better than to press you. Shuffling in closer, Eddie places his hands in your lap, letting you fiddle with his rings. You lean forward to press your forehead to his as you sniffle, basking in the scent of his shampoo as his curls draw a curtain around your face. You try to speak but choke on your sobs, squeezing his hands.

He shifts back up onto the bed next to you, and pulls you into his lap so your chest is touching his. You have no idea how long you spend sitting in his embrace, willing yourself to speak.

“I just…” Your voice cracks. Silence. He waits. You swallow.

“I feel like a burden to you sometimes. You’re my only person.” Eddie’s brow furrows.

“What do you mean sweetheart?” His soft caress on your face is soothing, and encourages you to continue.

“I know I have family and sometimes we look after the kids and see Robin and Steve, but…” Deep breath. “You’re… you’re the only person who I really have. I feel like you’re the only person who loves me. The only person who’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

Tears roll down your cheeks but you make no move to stop them this time. Eddie does the job instead, his thumb gently wiping the moisture away, repeating the action as more tears fall.

“And I love you so much, it should be enough that the only person I’m important to is you. I don’t know why that isn’t enough, but it isn’t. You make me feel so loved, Eddie. More loved than I’ve ever felt. But I feel so fucking lonely.” At your final admission, your throat closes and you can’t carry on speaking as sobs rack your body.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay my love.” Eddie rocks you back and forth slightly in an attempt to calm you as you sob into his shoulder. You both stay in the same position for a while, Eddie as patient as he always is with you, waiting until you exhausted yourself with your sobs before speaking again.

“Will you promise me something?” Nodding, you pull away to face him. His thumb wipes the tear tracks on your cheeks with such a gentleness you find yourself wanting to cry again, although this time for a happier reason.

“Will you promise to tell me when you feel like this? I know I can’t make it all go away but you don’t need to bottle this shit up, princess. You don’t have to fight it on your own.” You crash into his chest and squeeze him tight, prompting him to chuckle into your hair as he draws his arms back around you.

“I promise,” you mumble into his torso. “I love you, teddy bear.” He flushes and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Do you want to talk about it more?” You ponder his question for a few quiet moments, but you’re physically and mentally exhausted from the sobs that had racked your body.

“I’m too tired Eds, but maybe tomorrow? If you’re really sure you want to listen.”

“Of course I want to listen. You’re my girl, and that means you never have to deal with anything on your own. I’m right here, sweetheart. Always.”

Eddie sticks to his word in the morning. Not that you ever doubted he would.

You guess that Eddie has at least told the others that you need some TLC in the following few days when Will calls just to remind you he loves you, with a sincerity that no one could mistake; when Mike concedes that you’re pretty cool, followed by the awkwardest shoulder punch known to man; when Nancy and Robin rope you into their weekly movie nights - you’d never confess to them that the films they chose were far too highbrow for your taste.

You don’t think it’s a coincidence either when Lucas invites you on his and Max’s upcoming pinecone collecting adventure in the woods next to Hawkins. You’re absolutely certain it’s not a coincidence when Steve offers to teach you how to drive in his precious BMW, knowing that he’d never willingly let anyone else behind the wheel.

While Eddie would absolutely claim it’s a coincidence if you called him out, it’s entirely intentional on his part that he now tells you I love you a hundred-and-one times a day.

Please help a writer out and reblog if you enjoyed my work! 💗

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #hellitwasyoufirstsergeant #angie writes

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 7 months

Conversation

Leonardo: Dinosaurs aren't extinct. I mean, le Comte is walking in this room.

MC: *wheeze*

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp mc #back at it again with the pureblood on pureblood violence #truly these jokes never age a day (at least for me)#you see what i did there #although i think the funniest thing about this one is that comte would be so 'ha h a leonardo very funny >:/'#and then he's just drinking in the parlor room asking sebas is he's too old and boring for mc #and sebas naturally interested in stirring the pot is like #'idk if you ask me you don't look a day over 300'#needless to say the man needed pats from mc afterwards #man im dying all i imagine is comte just 'no talk me i'm angy' in a corner of the balcony #lowkey want to write this now--i might in fact #unauthorized bullying of comte will not be tolerated (unless i find it hilarious like i do in this case)#also funny because leonardo isnt much younger--not that that would ever stop him #ikevamp incorrect quotes

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midnight-moth · 10 months

Note

May we get some angst of Dew then being comforted by the other ghouls, maybe a ghoul cuddle pile?

Oh yes. Because Dew has been feeling a whole lot of angst on this tour! Read below the cut. Thanks for the prompt anon 💖

It happened at the first ritual. And then it happened again. And again. And again. The wireless transmitter failed, the sound cut out completely, his pedal board decided it just wasn’t going to work. And then it decided that a few more times.

Dew would stomp in agitation, flip off his equipment, beckon the techs with impatient gestures. Aside from the actual malfunction, the crowd thought that Dew’s reaction was all part of the spectacle. And maybe it was, at first.

But when the number of rituals were moving into the double digits, his rage became very real. It was the first thing he felt when everything went wrong. And when he blamed himself for it.

Some of it had absolutely nothing to do with him. The cannons firing early, the lights shutting off, the curtain getting stuck as the crew tried to yank it from where it had attached itself to a rafter. It nonetheless added to his unease. The feeling that everything was about to go wrong.

Tonight seemed better. So far so good. Until he planted his boot on the pedal board and all of the sound coming from his guitar cut out. He frantically stepped on different pedals, but heard nothing coming from his monitor.

This had been maybe the 4th time this specific issue had happened. With the spotlights shining on him, because he should’ve been playing a solo, he was instead standing there motioning for techs that weren’t there.

Blinded by rage at this point, he stomped, and not in a Im so human and weak way. In a I am forged from fire and demon blood way, and managed to crush the metal frame of the phaser pedal under the heel of his boot, cracking the also metal frame of the board right in half.

Thank Satan for the new masks. No one could see his eyes. His tears soaked into the fabric of the balaclava covering his mouth. He wasn’t sad. He was angry. And when he got angry enough, he cried. And it made him feel like a kit having a temper tantrum.

Dew would say he just wanted to put on a good show, that he shouldn’t be making mistakes this late in the game, and that he too responsibility for all of his equipment. Even if he didn’t set it up.

Others would say Dew was a perfectionist. That the smallest mistake would send him spiraling. Sometimes for days. That he would mutter under his breath about it and beat himself up about it and run it over in his mind in an obsessive cycle trying to pinpoint the exact moment it all went wrong so that it would never happen again.

“We all make mistakes Dew.”

“We can’t control everything Dew.”

“Stop beating yourself up Dew.”

You’re making a big deal out of nothing Dew.”

“We get that you’re pissed but don’t take it out on us Dew.”

They didn’t understand how deeply affected he was, that each and every equipment failure, set up issue, or stroke of bad luck stick to the next, until it was a massive weight on his back that practically made him stoop when he walked.

When he walked off the stage that night, rather when he stormed off it, stalking off to the showers, taking his rage out on his own skin as he scrubbed himself raw. He didn’t bother drying his hair, no matter how tangled it would be later. He sat alone in a plastic chair at the rear of the venue in between the floodlights affixed to the wall.

When they were all finally ready to move, filtering out the back door in search of Dew they almost missed him in that patch of darkness until they noticed the Cherry of his cigarette glowing in the dark.

“Hey Dew, time to go.”

Swiss employed his softest, least obnoxious semi sing-song voice, however Dew still practically sneered at him as he fell in line.

He was the last to get on the bus. By then everyone felt the rage radiating off of him. Each trying to make individual decisions about how they’d deal with it. Unanimously, they all wanted to just leave him be. Until the boil lowered to a simmer. At these stage surely anything they said to him would just infuriate him further.

As Dew traversed the tall steps, his toe caught on the lip of very last step, his hands were full so there was nothing to prevent him from slamming his face into the wall that enclosed the drivers seat.

When his head stopped spinning he looked to see everyone had come to a halt, staring at him with what appeared to be a combination of concern and fear. He felt something warm dripping down his face, his olfactory organs immediately recognized it as blood, as did his eyes when he realized it was dripping on the light grey carpet.

No one could see the countdown that had been set, but they knew he was about to explode.

“Dew, can I help you? I’ll take your bags and” - Mountain extended his hand, slowly, as if Dew would bite his fingers off. And he might.

Dew dropped his duffle and back pack on the floor and wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a bloody smear across his face. He looked up at Mountain with a somewhat neutral expression that said time was almost up. They all froze, waiting to see if the bus was about to be engulfed in flames. Not this time, he sunk cross legged to the floor and let out one of the most wretched cries they’ve ever heard.

“Oh Dew, come here. Don’t sit on the dirty floor.” Mountain crouched in front of him, using his on sleeve to staunch the flow of blood dripping onto Dew ‘s lap.

“Can you walk, can you stand?”

Dew just shook his head. No yelling, no screaming, just tears and blood. Mountain scooped him up and brought him to the back of the bus, depositing them both on the couch.

“You wanna talk about it, firebug?”

Dew shook his head, he just kept his eyes downcast, rubbing at the blood that was drying down on his hand. Dew was beyond anger, completely defeated., absolutely done. They all knew it.

Swiss searched in vain for ice, remembering there was no freezer in the tiny tour bus fridge. The best he could do was a cold bottle of beer wrapped in a t-shirt.

Rain located the first aid kit affixed to the wall in the bathroom. An infection on top of everything else wasn’t what they needed. Especially since the cut on the bridge of his nose happened to lay exactly where his mask would hit.

Rain dabbed at the cut with a swab soaked in alcohol. The scent made Dew’s nose scrunch up, between that and the burn, and the embarrassment of it all, Rain was dabbing at tears as well as the slice on his skin.

Swiss handed over the bottle, knowing that Dew preferred the calming energy of Rain and Mount when he was broken down this far.

Instead he hung back with the new guy and texted Cirrus, on the other bus with the Cirrus and Aurora. They had nothing helpful to offer. No ice and no advice. So he sunk back on the sofa and waited for some cue that told him he could be useful in this situation. The quintessence ghoul knew he could help, but he’d rather wait until he was asked rather than be intrusive.

The bus lurched forward, making it onto the highway shortly thereafter. Dew hadn’t spoken a word yet. He occasionally squeaked at the shifting of the fabric across the cut as Rain held the cold bottle to his face.

“I broke my pedal.”

“Oh, Dew, it doesn’t matter. It’s all replaceable. Unlike you. You’re the one we need to be okay.” Dew dropped his shoulders, abandoning the rigid posture he’d maintained since they sat down, giving in to the comfort that Mountain’s wide shoulders and long arms offered.

Rain pulled the beer out of the shirt and offered it to Dew but he shook his head. “You want tea instead?” Dew looked back at Rain as if he felt guilty saying yes. Rain kissed his forehead and stood to go make him one.

“I don’t know why you’re all being so nice to me. It was my fault.”

“You know that’s not true.” A gentle chiding sometimes helped snap him out of his cycle of self blame. Emphasis on gentle. Mountain continued, his deep voice as soft as he could manage.

“Maybe you did break the board. But the rest wasn’t your fault at all. I know you want to take it upon yourself to make sure everything is perfect. But this is a giant machine with many moving parts. A lot of them operated by humans. And we’re just getting started. It’ll get better Firebug, I know it will.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dew muttered, taking the scalding mug of tea that Rain held out to him. In fact, Rain had to carry it with a kitchen towel, but that’s how Dew liked it. Even if it was like drinking hot lava.

Rain sat behind Dew, gently working through the knots in his half-dry hair. “It happens to me too, I almost kicked a stage light right off the podium.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Okay, maybe not. But we’ve all had issues. C’s keyboard not making a sound when she walked out for her solo, standing there at center stage. The crowd staring at him her. Remember how upset she was?”

“Yeah, I remember. But still. She didn’t stomp on her keytar when it happened.”

Rain brushed his fingers against Dew’s scalp, watching his head lull backwards. “I know. Yes, you did that. Yes, your temper gets the best of you. But you have a lot at stake. We all know it. You’re just gonna have to forgive yourself.”

“No, I don’t and you can’t make me.”

Rain gave his hair a playful tug. “Oh? I think I can.”

Mountain saw the half smile hidden behind the now empty mug. He pried it out of Dew’s hands, handing it behind him to Swiss who he knew was probably dying inside from feeling useless.

Dew leaned back, yawning once, and then over and over. “Someone’s sleepy.” Mountain stood again with Dew in his arms. “Time for bed?”

“Don’t infantilize me. I’m a super scary fire demon and shit.”

“Yes, babygirl. But how can you burn as all to a crisp if you’re tired?”

Dew replied with a hiss. “Your bed.”

Mountain nodded. His was the biggest. He was thrilled when their manager told them they had enough funds to make small modifications to tour bus.

“And?”

“Yeah, all of you.” Dew grunted.

“I knew it you softy.” Swiss kissed his cheek before launching himself on the bed.

“I get the middle!” Dew called out.

“Of course. We already know that, Princess.” Rain slid across the wide mattress next to Swiss.

“Not a princess.” Dew muttered as he pressed himself up against Rain’s chest. Two ghouls left. Phantom stood there looking apprehensive.

“Go on, he won’t bite you, unless you ask.”

He crawled in, sculpting himself to the shape of Dew’s body while maintaining an inch wide gap between them. Dew reached behind and grabbed his arm to yank him closer. “That’s not how this works.”

“Yeah, okay.” He sounded slightly terrified which made Dew giggle. His reputation must’ve made it down to the pit. Even though it was mostly untrue.

Mountain crawled in next, pushing the quintessence ghoul’s body the rest of the way. He usually took the edge, because his large body was like a dam keeping the rest of them from spilling on to the floor in the night.

Dew always tried to hold it back, reputation to maintain and what not, but his purr always started up first and despite his size, it was definitely the loudest.

“Feeling better, princess?”

Dew slapped Swiss with his tail. “Not a princess.”

Probably the biggest lie Dew told about himself that night. He absolutely was and he knew it.

The next morning Cumulus skipped over to the bus to see how he was. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt unless I touch it.”

“Well, I thought it might. But I made this for you.”

It was a sort of headband looking thing. Only it was thinner. Aside from one piece that seemed to be 3 layers thick. Knitted from buttery soft black yarn.

“Thanks - uh - what is it?”

She slipped it over his head, letting the padded part rest on the bridge of his nose. “It’s so your helmet doesn’t dig into it.”

Dew’s eyes shone in the morning light, but Cumulus just gave him a peck on the cheek and walked away. She wouldn’t tell anyone that a little piece of knitting made him cry.

#nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #Swiss ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #phantom ghoul #the band ghost fanfic #fluff #Dew is angy #midnight moth answers #midnight moth asks #midnight moth writes #cw injury #cw blood #cw hurt comfort

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