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lithium-poet · 10 days

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unknown // instagram, geloy concepcion // unknown // in the event this doesn't fall apart, shannon lee barry // oh earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong // instagram, geloy concepcion // riko (aribachi) // a grief observed, c.s.lewis // jamie anderson // @sarakleign // macbeth, william shakespeare // unknown // bright dead things, ada limòn // would've could've should've, taylor swift // dark paradise, lana del rey // haunted, dean gioia // fourth of july, sufjan stevens // perfumebathing // unknown // growing around grief, lois tonkin

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶

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zombie-bait · 3 months

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Highly recommend the 1872 novella Carmilla to all the wlw iwtv fans out there, it's about a gothic lesbian vampire-human romance and it lowkey changed my life. Like I cannot explain to you how shockingly gay and poetic this story that came out two decades before Dracula is. I'm a little devastated it took me this long to read it tbh

(And if you're looking for a good retelling that embraces the gay further I recommend Carmilla and Laura by S.D. Simper. It's not as poetic but it focuses on internalized homophobia, religion and has a happier ending)

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noodles-07 · 8 months

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queer is literally my best friend it’s a warm blanket and a safety pin and a baseball bat in my hands and warm food in my belly. queer is a calling card it’s a promise it’s home it’s a journey it’s an old friend, a past lover, the ghost of who I used to be. queer is one of the best things to happen to me. I am queer in that I am strange and unlabelable, in that I am a person who has fought and will fight, in that I am free

#me? waxing poetic about the word queer? more likely than you think!#not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you #or whatever #does this make sense to anyone but me? probably not #am I gonna post it anyway? hell yeah #queer

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tuituipupu · 4 months

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‘my fire and water’ broke me the most. if some one said that to me i’d disintegrate on site.

#that’s so poetic and deep and #WHAT THE HELL JERE.#romantic much #🫠🔥💧#käärijä #bojan cvjetićanin

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mother-marilynn · 3 days

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I'm just so lonely. Not just today, but every day.

My bed is filled with stuffed animals gifted to me by friends who I don't talk to anymore. Their solidness and warmth cradle against me in faux affection.

I anxiously double check online communities I'm apart of waiting for a text that will never arrive. Filling my days with people I don't know, looking to clutter the void with lookalike company of people who have long since left.

I tease the earth with my hands, dance the ground and whisper promises to the weeds in my backyard. Yet I flounder and flail at the opportunity to romance myself and others.

I fantasize about a faceless lover when the only person whose ever been in my bed is me.

My room is cluttered with things I love and tend too; so much so that it feels too cold and empty to leave. Anywhere else is simply too cold.

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bitchysouljellyfish · 1 year

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“El día que me quieras”

Rodolfo Parra/Reader

Inspired by this and the incredible writings of @yeyinde because God their writings are to die for! Title is inspired by the song of the same name by Carlos Gardel! The indented writing is done by yeyinde!

Enjoy!

The ocean is a distant roar beyond the sprawling green cut into the fells. The scent of heliotrope and sun-ripened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses around you like a heartbeat.

Your finger taps the porcelain mug on the patio table, eyes soaking in the crystalline shore in the distance, basking in the sun. The warmth. The door slides open. Music from inside drifts out. Los Cojolites. He has a fondness for son jarocho. You can smell the sweet mole he's cooking waft through.

He comes up behind you, hands on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. You lean back, head pressed to his tummy as you squint up at him. He's bathed in ochre from the sun: a halo around him that bleeds into your retinas until all you see his the shape of him. Your pulse quickens.

He smiles down at you, lunar white. Love in shades of vermillion leak from the curve of his mouth.

"Want some company, cariño?"

As if you'd ever say no.

Alejandro introduced you to him.

You were the medic, part of the Task Force 141 that had came to Las Almas to assist with El Sin Nombre. You were dwarfed by the other two men who accompanied you, El Fantasma and Soap who had you tucked into the middle of them, protecting you from harm as you protected them from the Reaper.

"This is Seargeant Major Rudolfo Parra, my right hand man. Ghost, Soap, and Bog." He points to you last, and you give him a smile and a nod and he feels the sun on his face like never before. You were radiant, the stress and trauma gracing your eyes but it didn't stop the rays of hope that shined through them. He almost didn't notice the strange call sign.

"Tengo miedo de los fantasmas." He attempted to joke but got nothing but a flat stare in return. "And...Bog?"

You sighed in exasperation, Soap chuckling and slapping his knee in glee. "Feel free to call me Doc instead, Sergeant Major. Soap is terrible with call signs." And that is where it ended, the conversation going serious as he drove through the streets of his home with the gradual realization that eyes were on him, but they were not vicious.

The name Bog stuck much more easily than Doc, to your dismay he could tell, but he had to admit. It fit you. You bounced back from injuries and stressful situations like the soft ground you were named after, yet you could spew acid at those deserving.

"You be safe huh, Darlin'? Can't be too careful with our good ol'doc." Graves's southern drawl cuts through the comms.

You sighed, irritation and anger apparent in your voice. "It's Doctor or Captain, Commander Graves. I give you respect you give me respect."

"What about Bog?"

"Friends can call me Bog."

"We aint-"

"No."

Soap snickered through the ear piece, Ghost telling them to stay focused before the comms went silent again. You were waiting at headquarters with Rudy and the other members of his unit on standby in case there was any medical emergencies while the others went through the cartel compound.

"Doctor?" He asked, because you certainly didn't look old enough to have one.

You turned with wide eyes, doe like he recalled, before smiling and showing your ID card. "Got it while I was enlisted, then I went to Officer Candidate School and the rest is history."

"Your family must be proud, as should your team to have such capable hands with them." He turned his chair so he was resting his arms on the back, one eye and ear out on the cameras.

"Gaz thinks differently, says I'm a torturer with a needle but that's just because he's afraid of them." Then you put a finger to your lips and pursed them, winking at him so slyly that it made his heart leap into his throat. "But I'm not supposed to tell anyone that."

He laughed, resting his head on his hand and tried to keep the admiration out of his eyes. "You have my word, bonita, I won't tell a soul."

You and him spoke like that for ages, only breaking when the on ground team needed something. Your chairs were significantly closer together than when you had started.

He had become so smitten with you in the small time he had known you that when they were relieved of duty he didn't want to end the conversation. He walked you back to a room just for you, female soldiers weren't common in Mexican Special Forces, talking low and walking slow as to prolong his time with you. You had told him about your home in America, somewhere cold that got snow every once in a while and he had watched as you spoke animated about what you would do with your family.

"What about you Rudy? Any experience with snow?"

"Enough to know I am not built for it," he laughed, "No, my home is by the coast, with plenty of warmth for the rest of my days."

"Oh a beach man huh? Am I gonna get the chance to see you in a speedo?" You smirked at him, stopping at your door and peering up at him through your lashes.

"I am Mexican, Bonita, not European, but..." all of the confidence he had managed to keep throughout the night melted away suddenly. Shaking hands reached for your fingers, just enough for them to curl around your knuckles and you held them twice as tightly. "I could take you, some day, when this has calmed down. You would like it. I will make you so much food and drinks you would not know what to do with it all."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, feather light and petal soft but it was enough to knock him off his feet. "Its a date. Good night Rudy."

"Buenos noches, bonita."

He had watched you, passing glances through the time you spent with Los Vaqueros and became entranced. You were intelligent, witty, funny, beautiful, and strong, you had to be to carry wounded from the field but it did nothing to rough up the hands you had touched him so delicately with.

Yet those hands, oh those hands, were sculpted by angels he was sure.

You had patched him up after Hassan Zyani left him for dead and Alejandro, his brother in all but blood, saved him from the building, blood running down his head and barely able to walk he was so dazed. He remembered you laying him down, cold water on his face and you soft eyes and gentle hands on his skin and he thought it was heaven. You barked orders to get medical supplies, but made your voice soft and warm when you spoke to him. He noticed then that you always did that, when it was just the two of you or when the attention was away, you spoke to him as if he something soft and gentle to and by God he was.

He was clay in your hands, clay to be molded and shaped to fit into your shape so that your radiance could heat him and bring him back to life so that he may support you and hold you and keep you safe.

"I think a new call sign is in order, hermosa." He whispered, numb to the pain in his head as he raised a hand to hold your face.

"Shh, Rudy, hold still. I'm almost done." You caught his hand, squeezing it tightly as you wrapped the bandages around his head.

"I think Angel is much more fitting. Eres un ángel, esos suaves toques solo podrían pertenecer a una." You smiled and finished the bandages, looking down at him with fondness as you held his hand to your chest.

"I think you have a concussion."

"Perhaps," he shrugged and used his other hand to grasp your cheek. "Or perhaps I have died and the angels had no other choice but to use your face, although I hope that is not the case. I still have to take you to the coast." He struggled to keep his eyes open as the pain medication you gave him started to take effect.

Rodolfo felt something then, firmer but still soft as roses on his lips. "You better." He heard you say, another gentle touch on his forehead that he couldn't recognize before slipping unconscious.

The next time he would kiss you would be just before you left, Valeria in custody and the plane that would cart you away from him waiting behind you. You take his hand and press an envelope into it. "I'm a romantic." You explained, "Write to me?"

He cradled your face and pulled you close, kissing your lips with as much gusto and adoration he could fit into it before he could lose his nerve. The feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck would soon become a favorite of his.

"I will." One more kiss to your lips and you were away.

It would be another six months before he could hold you in his arms again, swinging you around once you came off the airport terminal and committing the sound of your laugh to memory. He wasted no time in taking you to his villa, one hand on your thigh as he drove and you resting against his arm.

And soon the ocean is a distant roar, muffled by the sounds of his Los Cojolites and the sizzling of breakfast he was cooking. The scent of heliotrope and sun-rippened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses in time with his heart. His shirt open and revealing the marks you had given him the night before and that morning and he sees you, sitting on the veranda with a cup of coffee and tour own marks on display. Rodolfo smiles and walks out, settling behind you with a hand on your shoulder and another under your chin as he looks at you with nothing but love.

"Want some company, cariño?"

And he knows you could never say no.

#cod x you #rodolfo mw2 #rodolfo x reader #this is long as hell #not beta read #im obsessed with this man #fluff #so much fluff #love #waxing poetic #rodolfo parra x reader

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hersurvival · 7 days

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My darling girl,

Once again I beg your forgiveness. Perhaps we could wind the clock back three days, let's forget the things I have said. It was out of character.

How, how do you make me feel this way? Vulnerable. Brand new. My heart beats in my chest, an unfamiliar sensation.

What does it make me, that I have begun to accept what this is? For what it is. A bad person, I should guess.

Then, I dare to ask, if I should entertain these compulsions - Well, just how vile am I?

Forgive me, you have so quickly stolen my inhibitions and I am filled with guilt. But all at once, I am prepared to throw my body into the fire for you. I shall await the descent to Hell, the inevitable, for the way I would lose myself in your presence.

Let us forget about all this.

Sincerely, unapologetically,

Your damned angel girl

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sparring-spirals · 2 years

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How perfect. How poetic. How painful. How unfair.

How perfect.

A resurrection ritual is equal parts magic and love and luck. The party is not lacking in love, not at all, and they're a little short on magic, but they're working on it- thats what they were asking for. But luck. Luck, in this party? Banking on luck, on the goodwill of the universe? Ashton? Imogen? F.C.G? Fearne? Orym? Chetney?

Of course it turns out the friend they want so dearly to bring back is tied to the mortal enemy of the person helping. Of course, then, the only way around it is to- adventure into a dreamland (a nightmare) of souls and spirits and unknowns, to do battle and to stall, to get their friend back.

How unlucky. How lucky, that this new plan is not really about luck.

Their only option is to dive into an unknown, cold and unfriendly and hostile space and do battle for their friends soul, try to bring her back without her worst enemy digging her claws into her. They said yes. Of course they did. They need to stall, they need to risk their lives to get Delilah far enough away that Laudna can come back unburdened.

They said yes, they said yes so fast.

They're there, now, fighting and adventuring and the enemies are not random, the enemies are- darkness, whispers, taunts. Awful recollections of one of their friends worst moments.

Personal demons, in the most literal sense.

The Bells know, about personal demons. About checkered pasts and hurts and darkness nipping at your heels. They don't always know a lot, they don't always know how to defeat them, but they all know, intimately, about personal demons. About personal fights and worst memories circling your neck like tangible things.

They know. And they know about each other's demons, too, they can recognize what is fire and what is a burning. And part of the issue is that your personal demons are often your own to fight. People can know, people can hold space, people can listen and support but they cannot necessarily fight your battles for you.

But- what luck. Here- here- they are. Dousing fires set by awful townspeople, they are fighting off encroaching darkness, they are diving, deeper, and deeper into darker depths and calling out for Laudna, fighting through some of her worst experiences with hope and determination and the kind of love that burns a path (that douses a fire). You cannot always fight battles for your loved ones, but here, they can. And they will.

Resurrections are equal parts love, magic, and luck.

What luck, they put together a solution so reliant on the first.

#critical role #cr spoilers #c3e36 #bell's hells #this is So Poetic i love it and i love THEM and they love laudna and i am. very happy with this turn of events #character meta #my meta #narrative meta #found family #laudna #c3 #aaaaaaa #love in critical role

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