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saevus-brutalis · 1 year

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fine you get more, gay

should I ask about fights or differences again and then get mad at you for it? yes, but I'll go with 2 and 4 🤲 feed me

coward [ship tag game]

2. do they like each other's friends? do their friends like them?

neither Vince nor Ragan really get to meet each other's friends and if they do, it's not often for a long time. both Vince and Ragan are from two very different worlds thus they have completely different assortment of friends.

Vincent's inner circle of friends is rather small, and most are not friends with each other or are fond of one another. those with whom he has more of a professional relationship — Dino and Jefferson — don't really give a shit about his private intimate life; it's not their business hence why they're neutral towards Ragan - if they even know of him. Reginald — Vince's ripper and an old friend from the army — ain't too fond of Ray and their relationship in general; he fails to see the good in him and only recognizes how much pain Vincent went through because of him. he thinks he makes Vincent too soft which will end up killing him in the long run. he does nothing however to ruin their relationships, but doesn't fail to voice his doubts.

when it comes to Ray's friends Vincent is pretty neutral, a bit guarded though. he doesn't have anything bad to say about them but he doesn't make an effort to be super friendly with them or get to know them more. they're a part of Ray's clan and he treats them as such, helps if needed around the camp, drink a beer or two when Ray isn't around; crack a joke maybe, but in the end he doesn't really care. if Ray likes them, Vince will make sure to be nice towards them.

Ragan generally likes Vince's friends, although he has to admit Vince's choice in friends is rather questionable. his old pals or work friends make him a bit uneasy and he personally wouldn't be too thrilled to be around them alone. they just don't match Ray's vibe - too cold, too rude, too city-like. they haven't done anything to Ray for him to have a bad opinion about them, so he doesn't really have much to say about Vince's friends.

Ragan's friends are really confused and feel conflicted about Vince. they're a bit scared of him in fact, intimidated for sure. they look at their relationship with a dose of skepticism, but eventually manage to warm up to Vincent and treat him as equal.

4. how do they compare to each other's exes? are they the same "type" or an upgrade/something different?

after they separated in 2038 Vince had a few flings after he came back from the army, lots of one-night-stands, and one more serious relationship of 5 years with a rockstar, which eventually ended up in a mutual break up. Vince's type are rockerboys and nomads, so neither were really an upgrade nor downgrade, both were just from two different worlds, with two different backgrounds. Vince never really got over Ray, and while he did love Kerry when they were together it jus wasn't the same type of love Vincent had and has for Ragan. neither relationship was better or worse; both had some bad moments, but with Kerry Vince and him wanted different things from each other, and Kerry had a tendency to try and mold Vince into someone he wasn't. meanwhile Ragan doesn't try to change Vince while still calling him out on his bullshit. he accepts all the imperfections about him and who he is on the outside and the inside.

after Ragan got stood up by Vince he threw away all his feelings for him - or at least he tried - and started sleeping and dating around with whoever he pleased, trying to fill the hole in his heart left after Vincent. when he met Dante - leader of a clan he later joined after being on his own for over 2 years, he thought he finally found someone he can start something meaningful with. Dante was a really great friend, warm and funny, outgoing and loud - with him Ray didn't really have time or space to think about Vincent and dwell of what could've been. while Dante had so many green flags and seemed like a perfect guy he was a bit too perfect for Ray. many people would consider Dante an upgrade when comparing him to Vince, but Ragan thinks otherwise, and when Vincent eventually came crawling back it didn't take much for Ragan to take him back - his unpolished, uncut, rough diamond.

#can't be bothered to proof read that #i didn't forget about it 🤡#ray's a bit of a poet himself #might change a bit about Ray's friends coz honestly--- i didnt make em #LIKE I FORGHOT TO GIVE RAGAN FRIENDS #IM SORRY HONEY #who wants to be his friend #im taking applications #lore: ragan #ship: eclipsis solis 🌑#lore: vincent e. vahn

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silverflqmes · 1 month

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agszc and the flowers they'd give as well as why they would give them?

໒⦂ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄.

notes. hey queen, my knowledge in flowers is baby level but!!! we’re gonna see which flowers the boys would give based on themselves and their love<3

genre. fluff

for @melukonova <3

ft. sephiroth, cloud strife, zack fair, genesis rhapsodos, angeal hewley

gender neutral! reader.

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. orchid.

+ reasoning. orchids come in a variety of symbols next to the obvious luxury and beauty, such as strength, mystery — even charm and refinement. more importantly, they bring across how lucky you are to be able to love your special someone.

+ sephiroth had always thought himself to be deplorable for as long as he could remember. growing up, he had countless reminders of how unloveable he was even in spite of shinra’s hero treatment of him. when he met you, however, somehow you had brought this ray of light into his suffocating darkness and had loved him in spite of everything. he was just so lucky to have you in his life — it was imperative he showed you his gratitude. and so, from the many books he read in his days, he’d decided that gifting your orchids was the best way.

+ “it took awhile to find you these, given the state of midgar.. but the search was worth the while. as i recall.. lovers gift one another flowers as an expression of affection, do they not?”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. gardenia.

+ reasoning. gardenia is the type of flower you would use to confess when the words don’t quite reach your lips. basically, an unspoken confession to convey your love. furthermore, it represents purity and expresses beauty towards the receiver.

+ cloud strife.. was never really the best with words, feelings and emotional expression. he preferred to think of himself as an actions kind of guy, and his confession to you boiled down to exactly that. with all the worst behind him, and the whisper of advice from his parted friends, he would have set out one morning to sector five to purchase a few gardenias. flowers and their meanings didn’t come easy to him, but the words he’d received told him these were the ones. the blond’s only hope was that his message would be received and returned.

+ “here, got these for you on the way back from my delivery, they’re um.. gardenias. make sure to change their water every other day or so, if you want them to last, of course..”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. daisy.

+ reasoning. daisies represent an innocent, cheerful and pure form of love. the kind of flowers you would pick fresh from the garden or a patch of grass to bring to the person you cherish most. they can also express true love, beauty and simplicity.

+ zack fair was true to his nickname — a puppy. despite his want for leaving the countryside to join SOLDIER, the days he would spend back home were all filled with memories that he would forever carry with him. a few that stood out most were the times he’d race up to you with a handful of daisies. despite their messy condition, and the apology he would laugh out for tripping on his way to you, his actions are filled with sincerity and love.. even if zack might not know what he’s given to you. with time, however, he will have realized the depth of his gifts.

+ “ahaha, sorry y/n! i didn’t see this rock on my way over, and i might have ruined the flowers a bit.. but they still smell nice! and i tried to salvage the good ones, y’see! peak condition!”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. aster.

+ reasoning. asters, according to myth were associated with a goddess that wept because there weren’t enough stars. the tears that fell became the star shaped flowers we call asters. on the contrary, they symbolize love, charm and sensitivity.

+ genesis rhapsodos — born poet, forced to soldier. flowers and their meanings didn’t fall far from the tree for a man with vast knowledge of the arts, literature and beauty. as someone with a keen interest in loveless, having analyzed and noted it to memory, asters came to be his first choice in conveying his love for you. the gift of the goddess, he would have concluded, and a perfect fit for the one who has captured his heart — you. and so, on his way back from a mission, a singular aster would have occupied his red, gloved hand as he presented it to you.

+ “a gift from the goddess for my beloved.. as flowers have long since disappeared off the face of midgar, amidst the filth and industrialization. are you pleased with my findings?”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. alstroemeria.

+ reasoning. alstroemerias convey loyalty, devotion, support and.. honor. the type of flower you give to remind someone of their strength when they fall on hard times. but, it is also said that receiving an extra sweet one, meant you were beloved.

+ angeal hewley wasn’t exactly one for frivolous love, a stark contrast otherwise, to his friend. the romance department just never really called his attention.. well, at least until he met you. somehow you sparked feelings in him that he wasn’t sure he was even capable of feeling strongly towards another person. it was strange, different.. but a good kind of different. however there was a downside — that being his lack of experience. his familiarity with romance was minimal, but he was determined to provide! and with outside help, he was acquired flowers.

+ “these are alstroemerias.. a mouthful, i know. but they used to grow back where i grew up, in banora. they said the sweeter ones are best to gift to your beloved — so here you are.”

notes. several hours of research and inconsistent writing later, i was able to finish your request.. love how NOBODY had roses but like anyway, this is the end results for agszc with flowers woop

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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dreaming-of-lu · 9 months

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Hi! For you're requests can I request Legend being so in love with reader but not realizing it himself? Like he looks at reader with heart eyes and wants to be near them constantly and he (and reader) just doesn't realize it? Until one day something happens and it just slaps Legend with how in love he is? We just need more blushy Legend in the world. I love your fics so much they bring me such joy reading them!

Oh, this is such a cute idea! 😭Absolutely 100% yes! 'cuse me for takin' long to answer, writing may be a bit rusty. Word count: 570

The newest companion in the company made him feel off by some sort. It wasn't a negative feeling or anything that felt off; it felt more like he was sick when he saw them. By the three, his heart would pound when he's given a chance to be near them, listening avidly to the happy chatters that left them, even answering their questions if they were asking him specifically. His hands would become clammy when their shoulder brushed with his or when their fingers tended to graze his skin. Sometimes, his eyes would linger a bit longer than ever before turning away quickly, feeling heated under the curious stare they gave him.

The first to always volunteer to go with them into the market and would huff when someone else got ahead of him before he could take the spot. Offering his hand to them when what looked to be a deep dip, he ignored the snickers and scoffed from behind when all he could focus on was their bright, thankful smile and took the hand gently.

He would question when Hyrule would give him nudges or gentle pushes towards the reader after noticing they needed 'help' with a chore. Question the chuckles their leader gave when he followed after them, whether with his eyes or walking with them. Even the captain would tease him, making him grumble and shove the captain to the side to continue with his chores.

The entire chain was acting weird with him, and he's not liking the sudden 180 of the mood in the air.

"You're staring after them again," Legend jolts in his spot, blinking rapidly before a scowl overtook his features. He whirled on his heel, words ready themselves on his tongue at the sight of the smug look on the rancher's features.

"You look like a pup, one that's desperate for their attention," Twilight snickers.

"Alright," Legend huffs, "what is wrong with everybody and wanting to tease me? Is there some joke I'm not in on?"

Twilight blinks, his shoulders slumping, "yer kiddin' me."

"What?" Legend's brows furrowed, "What am I failing to understand?"

Twilight sighs, scratches the back his neck, mumbling under his breath, "it's not my place to make you understand."

"Legend!" His head swiveled, eyes making contact with theirs. He breathed sharply as the sun rays bounced off them, making them glow; the notorious bright smile sent his heart pounding again. His cheeks burned when they ran up to him with a giddy laugh, pulling at his arm, tugging him after them.

"Come on! I want to show you this!"

If Legend ever were an artist or writer, he would paint the scene vividly of them, from the strands that graced upon their head to the eyes that would make contact with his to the very smile that graced their soft lips to the unforgettable laugh that left them. If he were a poet, he would compare them to a flower or the sun that seems to grace the land by walking upon it. He felt like he would melt under their careful hands and gentle gaze. He imagined a life where they would be together, holding hands like this, shar-

Oh.

'Oh.' He thought.

His heart pounds faster, making him feel breathless. Each time they looked over their shoulder, those eyes looking into his, so bright and full of life.

'This is what they meant.'

#.bea's writing #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu legend x reader #link x reader

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daphnaie · 2 years

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*~ spin the bottle. steve harrington x reader

Summary: Steve can't stop thinking, fantasizing, dreaming about you but when it's his turn to kiss you during a game of spin the bottle, his mind goes blank. *~ Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Word count: 0.9k

When the head of the empty tequila bottle points at you, Steve chokes on his beer.

There you are – sitting on the carpet, skirt riding up a little high, hair a mess from dancing with your friends earlier, a glimmer in your eyes, looking like a late summers memory and the stupid reminder to never trust Robin again when she promises a party will be fun.

Who – at his age – even plays spin the bottle anymore?

You, apparently. You who walked into Family Video three weeks ago and haven’t left his mind since.

He knew you before, saw you around Hawkins, but you’re a year younger than him and have different friends. He knew you but he never noticed you. Not until the day, the door at the video store opened and that perfect ray of evening sunlight fell in, burning orange and gold, hitting you from behind, making you look downright ethereal.

And no, he had never used that word before but when he tried to describe you to Robin, stumbling over his sentences like an idiot, she did and he ran with it.

Now it’s not the evening sun that shines down on you but a shitty lamp in a dirty basement. Steve wonders how even this harsh light doesn’t take away from your beauty and simultaneously asks himself when exactly he’d fallen this hard for you without ever talking to you before. Unless that one time counts when he made a joke at Robins expense and you laughed.

Jesus, that laugh followed him into his dreams.

With a bit of luck, that laugh will follow him into this basement too because your eyes are fixated on him, patiently waiting for a reaction. Robin squeezes his shoulder as if she nudges him to wake up, while the other people in the circle begin to giggle at the awkward pause. Steve doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way the corners of your lips twitch.

“Scared, Harrington?”

It’s the first time he hears his name coming from your mouth, soft and teasing, and he takes another sip of the beer to swallow a goddamn huff. Next to him, Robin grins. She knows what’s up. He’s pretty sure that the only reason she begged for him to come tonight and join this game, is this.

“Should I be?” He finds his words again, somewhere in the back of his brain.

Your lips curl up into a full on smile, so full of innocence that the contrast to your following words draws scattered whistles from the people around you: “Why don’t I come over and you find out?”

Every bit of color fades from his face as you follow through on that question. Because you don’t simply get up and walk over to Steve – no, you come towards him on all fours, eyes locked and dark, looking like the main character in one of his fucking wet dreams. The whistles around you grow louder and dirtier and his brain short-circuits.

You stop right in front of him, mere inches away from his face, smelling like tequila and flowers Steve doesn’t bother to describe. After all, he has never been a poet. All he knows is that your scent alone will make him drunk if you come any closer.

“What now, Harrington?” you ask softly. “Will you kiss me now?”

Kiss you. You’re not the first girl he’d kiss, not by far, but for some reason his heart has never beat so fast before when another girl offered herself up to him.

“How drunk are you?” he wants to know, voice hoarse.

You chuckle and he shifts. Not because he’s uncomfortable but rather because all his blood is traveling to a certain region of his body.

“Such a gentleman,” you murmur. Eyes travel to his lips and his heart stutters. “Didn’t they call you King Steve in high school? Where’s that kingly behavior hiding? All I see is a scared boy holding on to his beer like-“

“Oh, shut it,” he whispers and then his hand is on the back of your neck and his lips are pressed against yours.

Fuck.

If he wants to describe the taste of you, he can’t. It’s simply sweet and heavenly and oh so much better than he expected it to be. A teeny tiny gasp leaves your throat at the sudden action but then you melt into the kiss, following the movement of his lips. When they open and his tongue pushes into your mouth, your legs almost give out.

Neither of you care for the howls around you, the disgusted yells to “get a room”. You’re too distracted by the way his hand tightens on your neck as if he restrains himself from pulling you closer.

He is. All he wants is to pull you on his lap, to rip that stupid dress off of you and make that gasp turn into a moan but it’s too public, too loud.

Someone – Robin? – kicks his leg and he breaks the kiss. Breathless, the two of you stare at each other. Your lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed, eyes wanting.

“Well, shit,” you say and swallow heavily. “So much better than in my dream last night.”

Steve almost passes out on the spot.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n

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violettduchess · 6 months

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Hello sorry to bother please can I have Keith Wizard Fluff for the autumn Halloween costume challenge? Thank you Have a wonderful day 🙏🤗

A/N: I'm just going to keep working on these for a bit! Here you go @queengiuliettafirstlady 💜You are never a bother sweet Julie.

Keith x Reader

WC: 528

You read by the wan light of your rose-shaped oil lamp, breaking wax seal after wax seal, pouring over pleas and invitations, requests and letters of flattery. Merchants and royals, guild masters and city officials. All of them demanding something, some more politely than others. You lay down another scroll, turning away from all the documents a queen must deal with, each missive screaming for your attention, your time, your energy. They are tiny little vampires biting you over and over, draining you until all you want to do is throw yourself across your incredibly comfortable royal bed, the one lurking on the other side of the room, bathed in moonlight like a siren of the seas. You long to answer its call and dive beneath the thick, brocade blanket, unsure if and when you’ll ever come out.

Keith, royal mage, advisor and the man you love above all things, notices the way you gingerly touch your fingertips to your forehead, pressing against the dull throb of a headache threatening to break free. He’s been leaning against the closed door of the bedroom, watching you for the last several minutes. There is little he loves more than observing you when you aren’t aware of him, watching the play of expressions across your face like sun-kissed waves over water. But now he notices how tired you are, how the day is still weighing heavy on you. He moves quietly for a man his size, his dark green robes whispering softly with each step.

From behind, his strong hands rest a moment on your shoulders, finally alerting you to his presence without a word. “Keith….” With a sigh, you lean back in your desk chair, head tilting upwards to look up into the sunrise eyes you admire so much. His long fingers slide their way up to your temples and then start to glow, radiating soft yellow light, a glow that echoes the very first rays of sunlight that pry apart the curtains of night. Again, a sigh escapes you, relief flooding your body as his magic soothes the pain in your head, the stiffness in your limbs. Warmth blankets you, wraps itself around you and when the light emanating from his hands slowly fades, you smile up at him, all the love in the world reflected in your bright eyes.

“Come here and let me thank you.” You reach up even as he leans down, clasping the nape of his neck and gently press a kiss against his lips. He responds, bracing himself on the wooden arm of your chair, returning your kiss with a magic in and of itself. It begins soft and slow, comforting and sweet. His lips over yours speak soundlessly of love and tenderness. When you rise from your chair, stepping around it and into the shelter of his arms, it tells him everything he ever needs to know of what he means to you, of the way you love him and let him love you. The desk and all its papers are forgotten and as you fall, locked in each other’s embrace, onto your bed, it welcomes you with soft, silken arms.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly @keithsandwich

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri keith #keith howell #ikepri costume challenge #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #wizard au #violettwrites

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jukti-torko-golpo · 10 months

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Kolam : Part 1

So this is my first PS fanfic.... A two-shot. Kinda ended up long. I hope people like this. I do not know if this turned out well. I had a lot of fun though.

It was day 1455 of Arulmozhi pretending like she does not exist, she had cried herself to sleep and woken up with a splitting headache, the kingdom was gearing up for festivities and she was entrusted with the duty of decking up the palace. There was way too much noise everywhere to help with her headache and she had to use every ounce of her energy to focus on a work and get it done. So our doe-eyed docile damsel was a volcano about to erupt for the day.

Vanathi was trying to finish an elaborate Kolam at one end of a corridor. She was almost done with the job and at her wit's end. That is when Universe orchestrated the volcanic eruption.

The Chola prince and his newly found confidante, a certain Vana Prince, rushed through the corridor and before our hero could stop himself, he stepped on the Kolam and ruined a part of it. He froze.

Vanathi's eyes snapped to the ruined bit of the Kolam. It was one thing to ignore her during conversations but ignoring her entire existence and work while she was sitting there was a new low.

She stood up sharply and the expression which crossed her face reminded him of sudden tempests in calm seas. He had no idea from where did this inner poet wake up in him but he was kicked out of his mind very promptly by the sight of Vanathi striding towards him. With a short seething 'Ilavarasar...' she shoved the bowl of rice flower into his hands and marched off leaving behind two dumbstruck princes.

And the sound of a pair of anklets approaching just signalled the second onslaught of the storm.

'What has been happening here, Thambi? Where did Vanathi go? Thambi...' she trailed off when her brother turned towards her with a bowl in his hands and a messed up kolam at his feet.

'First you annoy me the entire morning delaying all my plans, then you mess up my uyir thozhi's work!! What has gotten into the both of you?? Have you forgotten your age Thambi?? What is this mischief that you are stirring up? Are you imagining yourself as Maya Kannan just because there will be a play...' a livid Kundhavai thundered.

'What Maya Kanna?' Arulmozhi was really confused now. 'Nothing...' pat came her reply trying to cover up what she had just blurted out. 'Vanathi was working with a headache and you ruined her work!' Kundhavai swiftly changed the topic.

'How would I know Akka? I was running thanks to you and I didn't notice the kolam,' the prince said as guilt started settling in his mind. He had no idea about the head ache part. 'I...well..I am really sorry,' he mumbled. 'TELL THAT TO VANATHI, THAMBI...UGHHH,' Kundhavai whisper-shouted at her brother.

Now begins a new adventure for our dashing Chola scion...apologizing to a certain woman for whom his heart acted very weirdly and he could not point out how and why it was weird to save his life. He walked to the chamber of the royal doctor and asked him to prepare some medicine for curing headache. With great impatience he waited for the doctor to be done with making the balm for the Ilavarasi.

He took the perilous nerve-wracking journey to Vanathi's chambers very uncertain of how she will react. He stood in front of her door and with a sheer lack of better judgement and and his brain ceaselessly rehearsing what to say, he walked in without announcing himself.

The curtains were drawn and the few rays of sunlight that could enter the room lit it dimly. 'Akka I am fine. Just a bit of headache. I will join the preparations right when this headache goes awa...,' the princess had been lying with her face buried into her pillow. She turned towards the door as she was speaking and she FROZE. Her anger had subsided and now she was very aware of the fact that she had stormed off from the very person who was now standing at her door.

Seeing her shocked and flustered face Arulmozhi panicked and launched into and apology while Vanathi started her own stream of apology. In her haste to get out of her bed she almost stumbled over her own dress and her cheeks reddened immediately. 'My apologies Ilavarasar, I will move the curtains...it is too dark,' she said as she drew the curtains open. She winced as her headache flared up due to the light.

'I don't mind the drawn curtains at all, Devi. I know that you have a headache. I have bought some balm for you from the doctor. please apply it. You will feel better.' These words from the prince made her face grow warm. He had thought about her? This was not a dream right? The Arulmozhi Varman had brought medicine for her? She extended her hand for the bowl rather bashfully. 'Thank you, Ilavarasar. I am very sorry for acting like that before. It was very wrong of me to speak to the Prince like that. Forgive me,' Vanathi said as her eyes teared up with guilt.

Her tear filled doe eyes sent a strange new ache to his heart and he said, 'No Ilavarasi it was my fault. I should not have ran into your hardwork. It was such a beautiful design. I will now take your leave and let you recover from the headache. I hope you will forgive me and join the preparations soon. I cannot wait for the festivities to begin.' Arulmozhi departed leaving a tear-choked Vanathi in her room.

After almost two hours of rest after applying the medicine Vanathi woke up. She emerged out of her room feeling much better. She was determined to finish the kolam this time. She made her way to that corridor and the sight that greeted her left her surprised ever so pleasantly. The ruined part of the kolam was fixed, maybe with slightly wobbly lines but fixed. And there lay beside the design Arulmozhi's ring. Maybe he had opened it while fxing the design and then forgotten about it. Vanathi picked up the ring, held it close and smiled to herself. She then happily completed the design and set off to return the ring to it's glorious owner.

Arulmozhi was reunited with Vanthiyathevan and they were overseeing the decoration of the palace courtyard. He raised his hand to direct one of the decorators and noticed that his signet ring was gone!It was his favourite ring. Where could he have left it? He was about to excuse himself and go looking for the ring when a soft voice called out 'Ilavarasar!'

'Aaah how is Maya Kanaa feeling now?' Vanthiyathevan exclaimed. She grinned up at him as he patted her head with affection. Maya Kanna? Again? Since when did the two of them get so close? Why was his heart acting in the weird way again after seeing her smile? What was up with everybody going Maya Kanna around him?

'I am sorry Kamsa Mama. I should not have stormed off from there,' Vanathi apologised to Vanthiyathevan, her voice laden with sincerity. Why Kamsa Mama? This was all too confusing. The dramatic Vana Prince feigned being deeply hurt by Vanathi's behaviour but Immediately dropped his charade when she pouted and said,' Anna please don't do this. I am already really sorry for behaving that way.' She took a quick glance at Arulmozhi and blushed deeply. His heartskipped a beat. But why? ' I am fooling around, little one. How can your Anna ever be angry at you?' Vanthiyathevan laughed and patted Vanathi's cheeks before he was called by someone to check a certain flower arrangement.

Vanathi turned towards him and her blush deepened. She was desperately trying not to make eye contact with him. Arulmozhi had given up hopes for his heart as it was wildly acting weird now. 'Ilavarasar I have something to give you...' she started. She held out her hand and on her palm was his ring. 'You had left it near the kolam,' she added coyly. 'Thank you, Devi. I was about to go looking for it.' Saying this he reached for the ring and his fingertips brushed on her palm. Her hand shook ever so slightly at the contact and she took off the moment he had taken the ring. She suddenly turned, walked up to him and mumbled a very shy 'Thank you for fixing the kolam.' This time she took off for good before could say anything.

Why did he spend the rest of the day twirling the ring in his hands and thinking of two shy doe eyes? Why did his heart start acting all strangely? Why did he find himself smiling when he thought of her blushing face? Why was she called Maya Kanna? All these questions swirled around in his mind. Would he never find the answers out? Or would he find them out very very soon?

@nspwriteups @thelekhikawrites @whippersnappersbookworm @harinishivaa @thirst4light @yehsahihai @nirmohi-premika @shaonsim I do not know who else to tag. Please tag anyone who you think would like to read this. And please leave your reviews.

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qualitystart · 8 months

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so you have any crash course information on them so I'm not totally lost please? if not it's ok!

okay so. the starting point, if you have the time, is the utterly phenomenal Dorktown History of the Seattle Mariners. that'll take you through 2020. the extremely excellent mariners blog Lookout Landing also has some great history posts.

but you don't just want history, I assume - you want to know about the Mariners now. I'll try to cover as many of them as I can below the cut.

there's Julio, who took the world by storm as a rookie last year. here's a great piece on him from last fall - spoiler alert, they did end the drought. he also vlogs!

J.P. - heart and soul, o captain my captain. here's a great LL piece on him.

and his parter in crime, Ty, golden retriever in human form. you gotta see their dynamic in action: In-N-Out Burger trip, Starbucks adventure

Geno (of Casey's url fame) - "good vibes only," making Gold Glove plays every day, and an important leader

Jarred - in the words of @eugeniosuarez, "gifted child syndrome and a mood disorder but he loves his friends." currently on the IL because he kicked a water cooler after a frustrating strikeout. (he was gutted, and crying in his media availability. he cares about this team so fucking much.) his face when he's happy lights up the world.

Cal (a.k.a Big Dumper) - our incredible, talented, big-assed young catcher who rakes and works SO hard every day

Logan - very good pitcher, shaped like an inflatable tube man, undrafted out of high school and made himself a first-rounder anyway

Logan and Cal came up together and are rich with narratives, which I have detailed here.

Cabby - will annoy the SHIT out of the other team. uses the pitch clock to his advantage like no one else. in the words of the poet:

our other catcher is Murph - got a bit of the crazy eyes, we love him, he even can cartwheel!

the bullpen! here's a great LL piece - Gott has since been traded to the Mets, but he lives on in our hearts and Sauce pours one out for him before every game

and our de facto closers:

Matt Brash, who's got some nasty stuff, and Andrés Muñoz, who is very baby and throws gas

(previously we had Paul Sewald, who was traded at the deadline - good baseball move, but tough to see him go)

I am gettin sleepy and I haven't even covered most of the rotation - 2023 All Stars George Kirby and Luis Castillo, rookies Bryce Miller and Bryan Woo, plus we've got Robbie Ray and Marco on the IL (both out for the year) - so I may come back to edit this later, I'll rb it if I do.

feel free to hit me up with more questions any time, and I'm sure @eugeniosuarez and @jockcoded would be happy to answer some too - we all love telling people about the Mariners

#asks #Anonymous #mariners #*baseball

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faerune · 2 months

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a kiss on the ankle seems a lil salacious and fun to write mayhaps!! for any bg3 ship ur feeling for it!

pairing: halsin x ember warning: shockingly only implied salaciousness

It had been a long time since Ember had felt so at peace.

Head tilted back to bathe in the last rays of golden light, she looked the portrait of happiness. A balmy summer breeze carried the scent of flowers and moss through the valley, pulling stray strands of her long flaming braid free.

Halsin had whisked her away after their lunch today to this secluded spot in the high forest. The setting sun had turned the pond into a glowing mirror. The small waterfall which fed the pond caught shards of light as it tumbled down into the waiting reeds below. A flat piece of rock amongst the foliage, just out of reach of the shading trees, had been her resting place for the better part of the past hour. Her feet dangled into the cool waters below. From her perch, Ember could gaze out onto the valley, the lush forest and the growing village nestled along the Chionthar.

Ember let out a long, easy sigh.

“I doubt even the most seasoned poet could find words to describe this place.”

Halsin’s soothing voice came from below her, a gentle hand enclosing around her ankle. The sweetest, rose-soft kiss against it came not a breath after. Ember smiled, tilting her head up towards the sun once again, eyes fluttering shut.

Halsin had been lazing about in the water since they arrived, his body sore from the work he had done today. Ember suspected that Halsin had a hand in many of the newly built homes that dotted the forest and village. Halsin’s guidance and leadership was always welcome but his true gift was that he was not just a wise soul but a man of action. Halsin gave every bit of himself to those who depended upon him. The people of this valley were lucky to have both his body and soul.

A sudden shade fell over Ember and with a bemused look realized her lover now stood above her, naked as the day he was born and still dripping water.

While Ember had left her underclothes on to take a dip, Halsin had given her a charming, crooked smile and had stripped in the afternoon sun. Ember could never complain about such a sight - his tanned skin aglow, the powerful thickness of his thighs, the muscled expanse of his shoulder blades.

“Can I help you?” Ember asked with a delighted little smirk.

“With quite a lot of things, my heart, I’m sure of it,” he smiled back in return, his voice a pleasant rumble.

Before Ember could reply, Halsin shook his head vigorously, his long chestnut locks free to spray chilled water all over her sun-warmed figure. Ember gasped, attempting to scramble up out of range of the spray.

Instead, Halsin caught her by the waist, pressing his wet body against her pleasantly dry one. He pressed his face into her neck as she giggled, wrapped his arms warm and solid around her middle.

“What was that for?” Ember laughed, still trying half-heartedly to wiggle out of his grip.

Halsin grumbled, a sweet smile felt against her neck as he kissed her skin.

“I was missing you,” he explained simply. Ember managed to turn in his embrace, the evidence of his yearning plain against her belly. She cupped his cheeks, gazing up into his honeyed eyes. Halsin leaned down into her, a flower towards the sun.

“Poor big bear,” Ember teased, pinching lightly at his cheek.

Halsin smiled at her and leaned in to capture her lips with his.

But with just as much ease as he had caught her did Ember slip from his embrace in a brilliant flash of radiance that smelled of dried flowers.

“Race you home!”

Ember’s laughter light on the air, a swish of a fox’s tale disappearing into the underbrush. Halsin huffed in loving amusement and with a small shake of his head disappeared in his own bright twist of light.

The bear lumbered after her, toward home.

#i havent read through this SOWWY #but thank you sm for the prompt <3 #halsin #writing*#asks #ship: forest fire

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myoddessy · 2 years

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nothing more, nothing less. e. munson.

summary —it was mindless sex, a way to get rid of your stress and anger without risking harm to yourself or anyone else. eddie knew it, you knew it. friends with benefits, only without the friendship. strangers was a better word. so what happens when eddie munson starts to get attached?

warnings —angst 🫶, popular!reader, mentions of sex but nothing graphic written

notes —morning after scenarios have taken over my brain so you'll probably see a lot of those while i work on glimpse of us!

CHEAP PERFUME AND CIGARETTES battled for dominance in the cramped room you and Eddie found yourselves lying in. Your back to his chest, goosebumps rose on your skin in wake of the warm puffs of breath that travelled from his lips to the nape of your neck. Almost like he could feel the pale rays of sun poke at his figure, Eddie was slowly pulled from sleep. His arm tightened around your waist as he slowly woke, tired groan slipping out. Quiet enough to keep you asleep, but loud enough for you to shift in his hold, doe eyes trailing every movement of yours with a look not even the poets could describe.

This was his guilty pleasure, the thing he'd never admit to loving, watching as sleep pulled your mind everywhere around the world but your body stayed there with him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Random hookups when you didn't want to get high off your mind weren't supposed to involve care or yearning.

They weren't supposed to leave him searching for your face in the halls, or hoping you looked his way during lunch just so he could watch your eyes widen upon finding his already on you. He wasn't supposed to miss the scent of your perfume, or revel in the love bites that dotted his skin, or long for the taste of you on his tongue. He wasn't supposed to want you. He could feel your stirring and, knowing you were soon to wake, pretended to be asleep himself. He bit his tongue when he felt you leave his hold, fighting back the urge to tell you to stay.

He clenched his jaw when he heard you shuffling around to throw on your clothes, battling every instinct that told him to reach out and kiss you. It wasn't until he heard the front door open and close again that he allowed himself to sigh, anguish and annoyance lacing his breath.

Eddie often wondered what you'd say if he voiced his affections and asked to be yours officially, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. You'd turn him down, of course you would. You'd be kind about it, but a no is still a no, no matter how much sugar is poured upon it. How idiotic was he, the town pariah, to fall in love with you, the town angel.

Then again, you never made it easy to not fall in love. With the way you smiled at him long before you met him formally, the way you're eyes burned with desire while you hovered above him, and the way his name slipped so beautifully from your lips while you writhed beneath him. It was all so enchanting, he couldn't truly blame himself for his devotion.

But the empty space beside him taunted him with truth, and knew it would always be like this. You'd always be gone by the time you thought he woke, the only thing left of you being the trace of perfume you left on his sheets and the indents of your head on the pillowcase. He knew he would never be able to call you his. Because it was just a casual fling, nothing more, nothing less.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

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sobakensyn · 2 years

Text

Finally, the anticlimactic ending of Chapter 2!

Dead bird, LawSan, chapter 2.5

Let's pretend the last page contains a beautiful art and not my attempt at Superflat. Such cryptic, very mysterious.

Next time: action, Chopper, more ass!

*Robin here recites the first line of a poem by Joseph Brodsky, Nobel prize winner, poet and professor (among many other things). I love this poem, and since no one can stop me I'll give you a full version of it.

Only ashes know what it means to burn to the ground.

But I'll too, with a shortsighted look forward, let you know:

Not all's gone astray with the wind, not all around

will be swept up, with a broom down the yard to and fro.

We'll remain a creased cigarette butt, a spit in the shade

of a bench where the angle won't let any ray be shed;

we'll form clots cuddling up to mud and count days up, laid

in to black earth, dregs, or some culture bed.

With his scoop soiled and an archeologist's gaping maw

just about to retch, one's discovery would resound

through the world as would buried obsessive awe

or a sight of the pyramids upside down.

"Carrion!" - he would breathe out gripping his stomach

yet find himself farther from us than birds are from pits,

because carrion is the freedom from cells, freedom from

wholeness: the glorification of bits.

#lawsan #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #trafalgar law #ローサン #deadbird sobakensyn #nico robin #poetry #joseph brodsky

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bramble-scramble · 1 year

Text

Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Seven

I was meant for the stage, I was meant for the curtain. I was meant to tread these boards, Of this much I am certain.

I was meant for the crowd, I was meant for the shouting. I was meant to raise these hands With quiet all about me....

The heavens at my birth Intended me for stardom, Rays of light shone down on me And all my sins were pardoned.

I was meant for applause. I was meant for derision. Nothing short of fate itself Has affected my decision.

Author’s notes:

Hello friends! We’ve made it to a momentous chapter! I’ve been thinking about this one for a very long time, and consider it to be kind of the centerpiece/turning point for the whole story.

It was cathartic to finally write, but this is where things start getting heavier, so... warnings for a bit of discussion on... not sure how I would define it exactly. Not quite suicidal ideation, but kind of? Wishing you didn’t exist? Depression, certainly. If you’re not in the mindset to read that sort of thing, just letting you know!

Also, thanks to @randomrabbidramblings for a bit of Italian help!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven - Spotlight Born

Arm in arm, Woodrow and Phantom headed down the path away from Sweetlopek’s house and back towards town, Jinx floating haphazardly in orbit above their heads.

“Well, Tristan,” said Phantom, “I did not wish to impose on your friends any longer… but I’m not ready to retire for the night. Are you?”

Woodrow smiled up at his companion in the starlit glow of the early night; even with the warden’s exceptional height, the Phantom was big enough to have an eye level slightly above his own. “Of course not, Tom. What joy to spend more of the night by your side...”

“Are you sure? If you’re tired, I can take you home-”

“No, no. Perish the thought,” said the warden. “Seldom have I felt more energized.”

“Well, what would you like to do then?”

Woodrow thought for a moment, then stopped on the path, turning to his companion and taking both his paws into his own. “I know!” he said, delightedly. “Come, come. I shall give you that for which you have been yearning.”

Phantom’s eyes widened as the warden tugged him along, surprisingly quickly, towards another path away from town. How forward of him! Phantom had been yearning, all right, but he had not expected things to move so fast, so suddenly… it was very uncharacteristic for his conception of the poet. And yet… with a grin he awaited where he was being led. Some secret clearing perhaps, a bed of crisp leaves in the woods…

They had continued on for quite some time, and Phantom could hear the gentle babble of the river nearby. Having gone too long for his liking without hearing his own voice, he asked, “May I ask where we’re going?”

“You’ll see,” said the warden playfully. “I’m taking you to your heart’s desire. I know you’ve been longing for it. I hope it shall make you feel… at home, and complete.”

The singer blushed. Had he known Woodrow was so willing, he would have made a move sooner- had he misread the man all along? His fur bristled with anticipation, so excited that he almost felt that the world before him was beginning to glow, and then-

They emerged from the treeline, standing not far from… the grounded moon.

The world had been glowing indeed. The moon was beautiful at night, bite-marked and crumbling crescent though it was. It seemed to gather all the light of the stars and reflect them in a subtle yellow gleam.

Woodrow turned and stood in front of it, smiling. “Well! I promised I would take you here, did I not?”

Phantom suddenly realized that this is what the poet had meant all along, and not… anything else. Still blushing, he laughed to himself. He could not be disappointed, after all- a shudder ran through his body from ears to ghostly tail at the sight before him. It was so lovely up close, and Woodrow was right - it was his heart’s desire. The moonlight resonated deep within him, shaking loose the earliest memories of his current self, and seemed to beckon to the very fabric of his being.

He approached the gently-glowing crescent and put his paw on it. It was somewhat smaller than it had looked from a distance, and yet still large enough to tower above them. “Oh, Tristan…” he said in awe, “how thoughtful of you…”

The poet grinned wider. “Do you want to- well, here. Come!” And with his long arms, he pulled himself up onto the inside of the crescent. Phantom laughed again, in shock at the warden’s sudden energy and agility.

Woodrow leaned over the side, offering his paw, and Phantom looked up at him, in the soft luminescence of the moon, with the stars behind him, and the leaves sticking out at odd angles from his hat and collar, and his raincloud hovering above his ears, and his little shy smile that was growing ever more confident… and he felt at home and complete, indeed.

He took the warden’s hand, although he did not need the assistance, and floated up to join him. The two of them sat there, inside the moon, leaned back against its gentle curve, its pointed top high above them like an awning. For a while they said nothing, just existed beside each other, listening to the nearby wind in the leaves and the distant gargle of the river and the chorus of frogs and crickets.

“Oh, there was something you wanted to do whilst here, isn’t that right?” asked Woodrow after some time.

Phantom wasn’t falling for this again, and it took him a moment to remember what his companion was actually talking about- but then he said “Ah! You’re right!” He leaned over to the edge of the moon, pinched a bit of it in his paw, and with a fair amount of effort, broke off a wedge. This he grabbed with his other hand as well, and snapped it in half.

He handed one piece of the yellow moon to the warden. “Bon appétit, mon cher ami.”

“Cheers,” said the warden, as they clacked the two pieces together, and began to chew at them.

The moon was rather hard, it turned out, and it took them a while to nibble through their pieces, even with teeth as big and powerful as theirs. When they had finished, they turned to each other.

“Well,” said Phantom, “not bad.”

“Not great either,” admitted Woodrow, and they both laughed.

“It tasted rather more like burnt cheese than baked cheese,” said the ghost.

“Indeed,” said Woodrow. “I suppose if it tasted better, it would all be gone by now. Still… behold us! The rabbits in the moon, and we have eaten of it.” Jinx gave a little thunder of warning: don’t get too close to a poem now.

The two laid back in the cradle of the moon, next to each other. After a moment the warden caught a change occurring, out of the corner of his eye. He looked over at Phantom and saw that his belly had grown fully transparent in the glow of the moonlight, his gramophone visible. Usually he kept himself opaque, fading to translucency in his ghostly tail, and this was the first time Woodrow had seen him like this. He looked at the ghost’s face- his eyes were closed happily as he rested his head back on his arms.

“Ah, Tom-” he nudged him on the shoulder. “Your- your gramophone is showing.”

The ghost shrugged his shoulders, without even opening his eyes. “That’s alright.” Then after a moment, he sat up and looked at the warden. “You know, I used to be transparent like that whenever a light shone on me, and solid - vulnerable - in the dark. I had no control over it. But I learned to be my own master in time. Still, in moonlight like this - I suppose I cannot help it.”

“May I… look?” said Woodrow sheepishly.

“Of course, sciocchino.”

“May I look closely?”

“What do you want to do?” laughed Phantom. “Stick your face upon my body like a child with an aquarium?” Not that I would mind, he thought.

“Frankly, yes,” said Woodrow. He leaned in close and peered at the gramophone. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I want to see it. It’s… it’s beautiful, you know.”

“Would you like to see it even closer?” Phantom asked.

“Of course,” said the warden, although he was unsure how- but before he could ask, Phantom had stuck his paws into the ectoplasm of his own stomach, and gently extracted the gramophone. He rested it on the moon between them.

The warden stared in awe at its intricate horn, gleaming in the moonlight, and at its carved wooden base. “It’s even more splendid up close,” he said. “Alas that it’s damaged, but… ‘tis impossible to tell.”

“Therein lies the problem,” said Phantom sadly. “No one can quite figure out what is wrong with it. It simply… misbehaves. Whatever has affected its inner workings is so subtle and slight that no one has been able to fix it.”

The warden reached out a paw. “Do you mind if I…”

“Go ahead,” said the ghost, and Woodrow tenderly rested his hand on the horn. “Beautiful,” he repeated.

“I take that as the highest of compliments upon my person,” said Phantom. “After all, what you’re looking at is me.”

“You… don’t mean that metaphorically, do you?” asked Woodrow, suddenly slightly embarrassed that he was touching it; and yet not taking his hand away.

“Not at all,” said Phantom. “I mean it very literally. It is as much myself as the rest of my body, if not more so. Sometimes I do not know if I am a Rabbid fused with a gramophone, or a gramophone given life.”

“Then you ought to put it back,” said Woodrow, his hand lingering on it for another moment before he slowly withdrew it.

“I trust you with it- but you are probably right,” said the ghost, casually lifting the relic and inserting it back into his body, where it floated once more like something stuck in gelatin. Woodrow looked into the distance, frowning. He trusts me with it, he thought, for now. But I am a notorious breaker of things… if he knew what I am, would he feel the same?

“Tom,” he said after a moment. “You said something earlier, to Sweetlopek: that you didn’t consider yourself to have existed before you met Spawny.”

“That is correct.”

“Well… it’s something I’ve been wondering about myself. Something I’ve been eager to ask you, but feared it was too personal. If you don’t mind, may I inquire- what was it like, to be merged? What did it feel like? I… have long been curious, since first learning of the phenomenon.”

“Oh? Merging interests you, does it?”

“Indeed. People combining with objects, to become new versions of themselves, to become metaphors. You said it yourself- you were made from the idea of a ghost, and so you are like a ghost now. What could be more poetic?”

Phantom smiled, resting back and looking up at the stars on either side of the moon’s sliver of a roof above them. “Well, I shall put it this way, mon ami. Do you remember what it was like to be born?”

“Of course not. I would imagine nobody does…”

“Well, I do,” said Phantom.

“But you existed before that-”

“Hardly,” he said with a scoff. “Listen, my poet. The Rabbids that crashed into the Mushroom Kingdom, they- we- were very primitive. Like your far ancestors, who settled these planets. We had no names, no real identities. Most of them still do not. We did not know speech, only the most basic of communication and raw emotion. Brains that roil with chaos, changing from moment to moment. Nothing solid. Ever-shifting feelings that tumble and turn over constantly like the very washing machine we traveled in. ….In a way, it is a blessed existence. Ignorance. Bliss.”

“I see,” said Woodrow quietly.

“And so I was not my own person, really,” said Phantom. “Just one creature among many, interchangeable. Gleeful and mischievous, but I thought not of the future, or the past, just the moment before me. It is… it is hard to remember. But I think there is not much TO remember.”

Woodrow nodded, rapt in attention. “But then…”

“Ah, but then indeed!” Phantom said. “Then I was born! When I was hit by that beam- when I was brought together with my gramophone and my balloon - it is impossible to convey. I suddenly felt everything around me, all at once, all my senses overloaded. The chill moonlight, the warm spotlights, the creaking boards of the stage, the smell of the air as if from miles around, swampwater and cemetery flowers and the buzzing burn of spotlight bulbs, and all of these things, I could describe them. I was given language - and not just one. Several. The world around me was mine to understand, to name. And of all the things for which I now knew the name, the most important was myself. I was Tom Phan. I was Phantom.”

“Incredible,” whispered Woodrow. “And this all happened in a matter of seconds, did it not?”

“Exactly,” said the other. “The first thing I was given was knowledge - but then, just as suddenly, higher feelings flooded me. Purpose. Passion. Love. And my purpose was to sing, to perform, and to fight- and my song came to me all at once, as from deep within me, but also from outside of me, around me, as if channeled through the very world itself. How could I have written it, so quickly, in my mere moments of life? And yet I had. I was one with the universe, and the universe had given me song. …And a hatred of Mario.”

“I know the feeling,” said Woodrow. “Er, not the part about Mario. But all the rest. One can never take full credit for a poem. The world gives it to thee.”

“And sometimes it refuses to give,” said Phantom. “My condolences for your inspiration.”

“Ah…” Woodrow’s ears pressed back, as he began to feel very ashamed of his lie. “I’m sure it will return soon enough.”

“I’m certain as well, and you shall soon indulge in your art once more,” said Phantom. “...I am not sure I shall ever be so lucky.” He sighed. “Well, anyway! That’s about all I can say for my birth. It is very hard to describe, I must admit. I have done my best-”

“You did wonderfully,” said Woodrow. “It is a sublime story. Someday, perhaps- I should like to put it into verse.” No no what are you saying, you hopeless fool- his own brain spat back immediately.

“Oh!! I should love to hear it.”

The two of them sat in silence again for a while. Staring up at the stars overhead, and feeling the warmth of his companion, Woodrow put his worries for the future to the side, and for the moment felt true peace… until he noticed a vibration in his arm, a slight shaking coming from the man next to him. “Tom… Phantom!” He sat up. “Are you crying? Oh- whatever is the matter?”

“Ah, mon cheri, je regrette… it’s nothing. Don’t worry yourself-”

“No, Tom,” he said softly, taking his hand. “Tell me.”

“I was just thinking of that night again. How it felt to come alive, to sing for the first time. It is quite literally what I was crafted to do, and now perhaps I never may again. I have tried to be strong, I have tried to keep going, but- but I cannot cope with it, dear poet. I am silenced, like a violin with its strings cut. I cannot stand it.” Tears were in his eyes.

“Tom,” said Woodrow, clasping the distraught singer’s paw in both of his own. “Oh, I’m so sorry… I don’t know what to say…”

“I’m sorry, Tristan. It is shameful to break down like this. It’s only that- I have had no one to talk to about my ailment. Not really. I have an image to keep up; I must be glorious, even when I am damaged. But I do not feel glorious. I cannot well go crying to my assistant, and it’s not as though he would understand. My peers would laugh and reject me if I did not keep up appearances. But with you, I feel… I feel I can be broken. You will listen, and understand, and be gentle with me.”

“I shall do my best, Tom…”

“You know, Tristan, I…” he trailed off. “No, no. This is not your burden to bear-”

“I want it to be,” the warden said, patting him on the arm. “I can bear it.”

“Well… I will admit to you something I have spoken to no one. In my time since losing my voice… do you remember what I said earlier, about being a simple Rabbid? No purpose, no identity, no Self? Well… I often find myself wishing for those days again. That I had never been merged, that I would not know any better. I was given a purpose, and that purpose was TAKEN from me. By my own actions. It was karma, was it not! How cruel are the fates… I suppose I deserve it…”

“Oh, Phantom…” the warden whispered, at a loss. He grasped his hand again, and brought it to his cheek. “The fates are cruel indeed. I… know all too well. But… but you cannot say such things… you cannot wish to have never existed.”

“Well, you are right. That is a useless wish,” said Phantom, his eyes closed. “But… you see, there ARE those who have unmerged… after being knocked around enough. They reverted back to their components, to a simple creature with no cares in the world. And I have wondered, why them but not me? I have sought to understand; I have tried to piece together the circumstances, and I have thought, in my darkest days, that- if I could figure it out, if I could unlock the secret to erasing myself- well, what is the point of being an opera star who cannot sing? What is the point of…”

But he trailed off, because as he had spoken his last couple sentences, two things had happened. He had noticed something warm and wet on his own hand, and a trembling, and realized that Woodrow himself was crying. And then he felt even more wetness, an impossible amount for tears, pattering onto his hand and arm. He opened his eyes to see his companion shaking with sobs, and his cloud raining down lightly upon him.

“Oh, mon poète, I should not have troubled you so, I-”

It was then that the warden threw himself at the ghost, wrapping him in his arms, burying his face in his chest such that his glasses were pushed up and off, wetting Phantom’s cravat with his tears instantly, and soon they were both getting rained on. “Oh, Tom, my wondrous, dear Tom,” he murmured into his chest, and then turned his face to look up at him, his eyes red with tears and wide with passionate sorrow. “You cannot think such a way, you can’t! I have not known you for a week, and yet already I cannot bear the thought of a world without you. A world in which everything that is beautiful and extraordinary about you has been washed away. You are precious to me whether you can sing or not, don’t you understand that? You are so much more than what you were MADE to be… and I… and I…”

The former poet sighed and leaned his teary-eyed head against the former singer, seemingly exhausted by the paroxysm of sympathy and unable to say more. In reality, poems were running through his brain- poems he had written in the past, about the things he himself had struggled with. Finding a purpose, finding a place in nature, perhaps not needing a purpose, finding love and joy in the moment. So much he had written on these subjects, that would be apt to say now! The lines crashed against the wall in his brain like a battering ram, they words made ladders to climb over; the stanzas slammed into it like waves - he wanted to speak, to help him- and yet he dared not. He dared not. So he spoke without words, tightening his hug.

They held each other there, heedless of Jinx’s rain which still fell upon them, and by now they were quite drenched.

“Tristan Woodrow,” said the ghost gently, caressing his companion’s cheek as the rain began to slowly subside. “I should not have spoken so freely- it was never your burden. But… ti ringrazio. Worry not, gentle poet.” He smiled. “I am not going anywhere.”

He was quite certain the warden had fallen asleep, but after a moment came a soft reply: “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course. Coming to Palette Prime has turned out to be a wise choice, indeed-”

“No. I mean, I am glad you’re here. In the universe.” He turned his head up to the other with an exhausted smile.

“I am glad you’re here too,” said the other. And soon enough, damp though they were, and in spite of the moonlight surrounding them, they fell asleep, curled around each other, watched over by a cloud and surrounded by the hum of the forest at night.

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #mario rpgs #fanfic #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom #phandrow

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jamietxrtt · 1 year

Text

okay. so i just watched it twice, and here are my thoughts about ted lasso season 3, episode 1. don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled:

I WAS RIGHTTTTTT ABOUT TED BEING THE FACE OF THIS SEASON I WAS RIGHTTTT I WAS RIGHTTTT. it HAS to be about his growth at the end of the day. that’s what the show’s ABOUT

love the opening on ted’s face while someone calls for the last warning for kansas city. how much do we want to guess the season will end the same way, with a settled, satisfied look on his face this time, while somebody calls “passenger lasso for kansas city”?

“amen big ben” WAHHHH. WHENEVER HENRY MIMICKS TED’S SPEECH PATTERNS IT GETS ME SOOOO

ted immediately joking about drinking alcohol with the gift from his son. hm.

“when you get home, will you give your mom a big squeeze for me and le her know i love her”? i’m not sure that’s still appropriate to say about your ex wife, ted

ted looks so jason-ish with stubble lmao.

I’M SO GLAD HE’S STILL TALKING WITH SHARON. THANK GOD HE NEEDS IT

the way his voice shakes on “hey doc… yeah, no, i’m fine.”

“until my dad remembered to come pick me up”..... he sounds a bit angry in this line….

JESUS HIS FAVORITE TEACHER GOT KILLED BEFORE HE WAS ABLE TO THANK HIM FOR TAKING CARE OF HIM?????? HOW MUCH TRAGEDY WAS IN YOUNG TED’S LIFE HOW MUCH GRIEF DID HE HAVE TO ENDURE

he still has the nate christmas photo up in his apartment, right where it was before, right next to the henry photo……..

“maybe my being here is doing more hurting than helping at this point” very reminiscent of “eventually it seemed like me being around so much was doing more harm than good

“are you seeing anyone?” “pass.” “ahh, you usually say no!” how many times has ted asked if she’s dating someone????

“you finally got off” “not yet i haven’t” GOOD FOR HER?????? GET IT QUEEN

rebecca and higgins just chilling and reading newspapers with each other wahhh i love when they’re friends

the way rebecca keeps referring to west ham as rupert….. oof. oh girl. even ted goes “ohhh boy”. it can’t not be personal for her

i love how whenever rebecca doesn’t know how to respond to something, she just goes “....... okay” with a kind of perplexed half-smile on her face. she’s done it throughout all three seasons and it’s delightful

“maybe they’re trying to motivate us” aww dani

BOTH DANI AND RICHARD IMMEDIATELY CROSSING THEMSELVES WHEN COLIN MENTIONS THE NUN ALSKFJLDKSJFD

“hey, lads! we ain’t gonna get relegated because we’re together! and together… we’ve got me!” AHAHHAA jamie being jamie…. love him forever

everyone throwing towels and stuff at jan mass when he mentions what’s statistically likely to happen LASKJFLKSDJLFKJDSLFJDL something about that is so sweet and friendlylike

beard and roy being FRIENDSSSS

love that ted still keeps the gag from s1 of calling the other coaches pet names, he says “what’s up, sweetie pie” to beard

roy having an inferiority complex by comparing himself to NATE???? that's very…… interesting. especially since nate spent all of last season trying to be roy.

nate in his little green car….

“good morning coach shelley” and he doesn’t even notice. wow…. he’s really embraced this. and then the “there he is, the wonderkid himself” “get out.” WOOF.

KJPR??? Keeley Jones PR????

ohh she’s representing Rebecca at her new company!! rebecca is a client of hers now!!

keeley in a office full of boring stiffs who don’t get her whimsy… aw keeley. don’t let them cramp your style! maybe they’ll be made sympathetic though who knows

and yet she still calls them all “poets and geniuses” even though they clearly don’t like her… keeley you ray of sunshine i adore you

when keeley just throws rebecca’s jacket on a couch and rebecca’s face is just like “uh…. ok” ASLKDFJLSDJFLKDSJFLKSD

KEELEY IMMEDIATELY BREAKING DOWN IN TEARS AS SOON AS THE OFFICE IS COVERED AWWWWWWWW KEELEYYYYYYY. seeing her crying and upset is so upsetting to me. like i see jamie in agony and i’m like YESSSSS but i see keeley upset and i also want to start sobbing

love that rebecca is there to take care of her though <3

and i’m kind of excited! i think this means we’re going to be able to see more of keeley’s internal world this season! one problem with her i’ve always had is that i feel like she’s always a bit too perfect-- she always knows the exact right thing to do, the exact right thing to say, she always gives the best advice. it sometimes felt like she was only ever fixing other peoples’ problems, not dealing with problems of her own. but it looks like she’s allowed to have problems this season!!! yay!!!

the boys chatting while training :) they’re so cute they’re little buddies i love them

roy: “what the fuck are you two talking about, we are outside.” beard: “HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE >:3” i love him

“EVERYONE RUN EXCEPT ROY LET’S GO” so sweet how he’s considerate of roy’s knee :)

“wow, rupert’s really got stuck in your head these days, huh?” “no! … i mean, yes, but…” get rebecca in some therapy 2k23 on god rebecca we can NOT end the season without you having seen a therapist

barbara lady trying to crush keeley’s whimsy :(((((((

“thank you for the advice” “thank you for your bosom” “anytime” I LOVEEEE TWO FRIENDSSSSS

“this right here is the dum dum line” nate what are you, 5?

“five more minutes of this, then just run them ‘till they drop” WOOF… NOT THE BEST TACTIC TO GET THE TEAM ON YOUR SIDE

when he turns around and the secretary lady is gone and nate does his trademark little “oh my god…..” HE’S STILL THE SAME PERSON. even with all the differences in his life and his personality now he still has that little “oh my god….” think he’s had since the very first season

rupert wearing the all black suit… yes nate was trying to emulate roy with the black suit last season, but maybe he was also trying to emulate rupert???

oooof when rupert slaps the newspaper as he’s laughing, nate flinches and his smile suddenly disappears….. ooooooof oooooof

“they didn’t know what they had letting you go. nathan shelley, you are a killer” MANIPULATION MANIPULATION

nate’s face on “.....i can move it.” like he’s expected to get yelled at…. oof

not lost on me that rupert always calls him “nathan” whereas ted always called him “nate”

so good to finally see those spoilers from a YEAR AGO of the team out and about in those new kits out in london come to fruition… it’s been soooo long. those were the first s3 spoilers we ever got. wonderful

rebecca rushing to see the press conference…. baby you have to learn how to not care

“i’ve had this dry cleaned now six time. can’t believe she wears stuff like this on her eyes”

higgins’ choking sound… love that he still has that

“aint much scarier out there than a creepy clown, right?” then it immediately cuts to rupert HA

jamie with his shirt over his nose is so cute

THE WHOLE TEAM CONGRATULATING BEARD ON GETTING IT RIGHT… SO CUTE

nate’s still harping on the wonder kid thing… dang

NATE PANIC ATTACK????? god just like ted’s…… and then the spit aND THE WAY HE WIPES HIS EYE RIGHT AFTER. NATE YOU MAKE ME WEEP BUDDY

typical nate. feels threatened and so goes on the counterattack. same as jamie did back in s1. best way to get them to stop poking fun at you is to beat them to the punch and lash out at them first.

cutting between the press conference and the boys in the sewer… interesting interesting

jamie’s little “wtf?” hand after roy yells ASLKDFJLSJFLDKSJF

“coach?” “yeah, jamie.” “we’re surrounded by poopeh.” WAHHHHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. MY SON

so many hurt feelings…. so much hurt…. by ted, by the team, by rebecca and higgins…. they all knew nate….. so much hurt here… god

beard WOULD like kenneth

“hey, hey, lads, lads! remember, it’s just poopeh. let it flow.” YESSSSS JAMIE TAKING ON THE TED ROLE AND CONSOLING THE TEAM YESSSSS BABY UR A LEADER ON THE TEAM NOW I’M SO PROUD OF U.

when dani says “clever, jamie, muy intellegento, jamie!” I LOVE HOW MUCH DANI LOVES HIM

also the way ted was ready to step in but both beard and roy stopped him because they knew it was time to let someone on the team reinterpret ted’s philosophy… yesssss

when rebecca calls him “coach lasso” instead of ted…..

“i am begging you. please. fight back.” but then later ted ignores that advice and does his charm and disarm that he usually goes with, and keeley sends rebecca that text “way to let ted be ted!” really reaffirms that rebecca was in the wrong there, that she had to trust how ted was going to handle it

ted going full self-deprecating in the face of nate’s insults is so perfect too. like yes, he still compliments nate, never says a bad word about him, refuses to stoop to his level. but it endears him to the public-- and, crucially, it also IS kind of a way to backhandedly get at nate. it’s a way for ted to come off looking more clever and quick-witted and smart, at the end of the day. it’s a way for him to win this battle without ever putting up a fight.

interesting too how it calls back to the advice he gives rebecca in s1 at the gala-- “just a trick of the trade, make fun of yourself, right off the bat. folks will love that.” here he’s employing his own advice. making fun of himself to endear himself to the public.

“i’ve had more psychotic episodes than twin peaks” SO interesting to me that he’s able to so freely talk about the panic attacks and make fun of himself for it here… very very interesting. not sure how i feel about that

the way nathan’s father is still upset about him swearing??? like he’s 14 or something???? his parents infantilize him SO MUCH…. i’m sure that’s where a lot of his issues regarding respect ultimately stem from

buying nate the new car… something to be said here about status and class, but i’m not smart enough to say it.

“it’s a car” and nate laughs at first because he thinks she’s kidding, but then he’s like “oh wait…. oh.”

OKAY. LOOK. I KNOW IT’S BAD FOR HIS DEVELOPMENT AS A PERSON. BUT. THAT CAR SEQUENCE WAS SICK AS HELL.

roy is looking at keeley while keeley looks down at her phone… then she puts down her phone and looks at him, and he immediately looks down at his drink…. oof.

keeley’s jacket is so spectacular. not the point but i love it

“we’re going on a break” vs. “we broke up”... ooooof

“because…. we thought you’d wanna hang out with me sometimes” AH. KEELEY SOUNDS SO INSECURE ON THIS LINE. BABEEEEEE

roy’s whole face journey before he says “we’re too busy.” is… oof. got me in my feels

keeley trying to comfort roy about his anxiety about not being a good enough coach, but then she has to stop himself…. babe you can’t do that anymore. it’s not your place. he’s not yours like that anymore.

if i had to rank these people in order of how well they’re handling this interaction, it would be: phoebe, keeley, roy. roy’s really not doing much of the legwork here. and phoebe is astounding in how she’s managing to smooth out their feelings, instead of the other way around. i NEED to meet her mom

“i think you’re being stupid” not messing around phoebe, i like it

beard never gives his opinion when ted expresses how he’s not sure why they’re still here.. unsure what that means. he thinks they should go home but doesn’t want to mess with ted’s headspace even more? he thinks ted should figure this one out himself and doesn’t want to influence him? he’s bothered by ted’s unquestioning use of “we” (“wonder why we’re still here.”) when maybe what beard wants is different from what ted wants? could be any of the above. i’m not sure

putting lego nate next to lego ted….. weeping sobbing crying

“who’s jake?” “mommy’s friend.” “..........great…..” AHHHHHHHHHH. poor ted is going throughhhhh ittttttttt

#SO GOOD #I'M SO #AHHHHH #just watched it once to take it all in #then a second time and made my little notes #GOD #ted lasso spoilers

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railroad-migraine · 2 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to submit this to you it may be a little self indulgent but you are one of my favorite writers and I need my confort.

So headcanons (or whatever you feel doing) for C3 x Druid!reader, them on a idyllic meadow with a lake, chilling, cuddling and the reader making flower crowns or putting flowers on them while they feel asleep under a tree… you can write whatever comes to your mind for each one really those are just some ideas😊

-🌱🫖

Welcome 🌱🫖 anon 🥺 This was a very soft idea, very self indulgent. I don't normally dish out requests so soon after they've been recieved, but I had to bump it up my queue list

~ Poet

Druid!S/O's Day Out Date

Ashton 💙

You're only there five minutes before Ashton flops down to lay out in the sun, starfished on the ground as he begins to soak up the rays. I've mentioned this before, but some earth genasis react to heat the same way a rock does - in this case, Ashton's skin slowly begins to prickle with warmth the longer they lie there. A living heat stone. This is the best opportunity you'll get to sneak up and curl into their side for a cuddle and a snooze.

Shrugs off their jacket and rolls up their trouser legs and sets their boots and gear to the side. He's holding your hand to keep him you balanced as you both wade barefoot in the shallows of the lake. You find pretty pebbles and common gemstone debris, smoothed glass chips of wine bottles from fey dinner parties hundreds of years ago. He pockets every fragment he comes across, each a little reminder of this place and time spent with you.

Will most definitely push you into the water, practically cackles when you resurface. Your clothes are drenched, soaked to the bone and clinging to your skin, but they will happily kiss you deeply when you pull them in after you. Try not to imagine them picking you up and twirling you around effortlessly - they're a strong boi, he can do it no problem. Eventually, he settles you down carefully, grinning so freely and genuinely, mirroring your own expression.

Chetney 💙

He was immediately drawn to the idea of fishing in the nearby lake. Or I should say, Chetney tried one attempt at fishing, and failed miserably to catch anything. He ended up kneeling by the bank with his hands dipping into the water while he watches his elusive ex-prey swim within the crystal clear lake. He's pouting as they flicker by, but secretly likes the sun on the back of his neck and the coolness of the water. It's more bearable a tease when you pat his shoulder and murmur reassuring words.

Hums and sings softly while he works away with a carving he brought with him, his voice carried on the breeze as it ruffles your clothes. He's no bard - far from it - but he finds a comfortable range in familiar lyrics, and it's all you need while the creak bubbles and the trees creak contentedly.

While you settle down at the base of your new favourite tree, a journal or spell book or novel in hand, your faithful gnome scuttles around in a circle on all fours, getting himself comfy, before nuzzling his head in your lap. After barely tracing his forehead with a finger and scritching him behind the ears, he's fully conked out, fast asleep and snoring.

Dorian 💙

Give this man a bottle of sparkling wine and a flower crown, stat. He's come prepared with a makeshift picnic in his pack - cheeses, cured meats, fruit, crusty bread, cream and chocolate and whatever else you may desire. Dorian knows what you like and how to make it, and does it especially well when it's dessert related. Manages to forget a blanket to sit on, but happily spreads out his cape across the vibrant grass instead.

You bet your butt he's brought his instruments to serenade you as the sun goes down, inking the watercolour sky with blues, reds, oranges, pinks and purples. His face is warm under your gaze, his fingers catching strings on his lute or gasping for breath on his flute, a bit nervous. But you barely notice. How could you when the moment is so perfect and he keeps looking at you like that?

Holds out his hand to you, sighs a smile when you take it, gently pulls you close and slowly begins to sway to the music that nature provides. He twirls you around when birds flock overhead. You return the favour as leaves crunch underfoot. He bows like the gent he is and kisses your knuckles just as the light begins go dim.

Fearne 💙

It's initially a bit chaotic, I'm not gonna lie. You both enter you secret clearing, hand in hand as Fearne begins to ooh and ahh at the picturesque scene ahead. The moment is then disturbed by Little Mister screeching and scrambling up one of the large oak trees. You and the faun have to coo reassuringly at him once he scales to the top, suddenly afraid of his newfound height.

Once he's back on the ground though, it's such a lovely day. She begins picking flowers and berries growing on the outskirts of the glade, and organises them into separate pouches (toxic and non toxic - please don't let her mix up which one is which) for later shenanigans. You don't think she can talk to plants, but she claims that the red clovers won't stop gushing about how perfect you are.

Provides the most amazing cuddles once her curiosity towards the flora has been sated. Both of you being druids, together you fashion delicate pillows of flowers and leaves, a blanket in case the sun sets too soon. She's soft and strong as she holds you close, your nose in her hair - ticklish, perhaps, but worth it when she smells of rain and fire and magic.

Imogen 💙

She brings this massive sun hat with a brim that keeps flopping over her face and accidentally covering her eyes. Imogen huffs and says it's more of a hindrance than helpful, but she's literally so cute that you duck under it to give her unexpected surprise kisses throughout the day. She stammers every time but always melts just as you move away.

She gets freckles on her shoulders and legs as she spends the day in soft sunlight with you, enjoying the peace and quiet your hideaway offers. She can finally breathe and hear herself think, your thoughts sometimes bleeding in with hers - not overwhelming, but welcome. She has a book to read, flicking through chapter after chapter with ease for the first time in what feels like ever. The isolation is a welcome sensation, the absence of her headaches unusual but a gift.

Begins to read out loud when you move to sit behind her, arms curling around her middle and perching your chin on her shoulder. She muffles a laugh when you absentmindedly place a kiss to her skin there, especially if she's reciting a chapter from the romance novel. She shies away at some of the cheesier scenes, and is reassured by your combined comments and thoughts, but inevitably sets the book down in favour of the wonderful person beside her.

Laudna 💙

The flowing layered grey skirt with frills at the hem that she chose today is specially worn for you this occasion. She slips off her shoes and swings them gently by the ribbons as she walks ahead of you, the grounding of the soil and grass beneath her feet, the softness of the skirt's material swaying about her legs, and the warmth of the sun on her face is delightful. She's basically glowing and feels alive and new. It makes your heart happy to see your favourite person in your favourite place.

Adores cloud watching. Despite her seemingly frail form, she drags you along to a lovely patch of grass and urges you to lie down, and she follows you after to lay her head on your shoulder. She begins to point out and speculate shapes overhead, naming creatures and characters you've never heard of before but so terribly wish to get to know. You both combine your cloud shapes and act out their stories before they drift away.

She feels like a princess with her druid lover in such a secluded paradise. You're braiding flowers into her hair in the shade (she burns easily) while she chatters away with Pâté and Sashimi in her lap. Once you tap her shoulders and signal you're finished your work, she skips over to the water to admire her reflection before pressing a giggly kiss to your mouth.

Orym 💙

Flower power couple ;^; Orym is weaving you such beautiful floral arrangements worthy of winning pageants, tucking them into your hair, behind your ear, about your collar and wrists as you struggle to keep up with him. He's got such a natural affinity for flower crowns and daisy chains in particular, despite not being an avid magic user. The tips of his ears burn crimson when you place your own crown upon his head, brushing stray locks of hair from his face tenderly as you do so.

Didn't plan to bring a picnic, but brought leftover pie slices from breakfast wrapped in parchment to share. The pastry is flaky, tastier than it was when it was first served that morning. You both fill your canteens and wineskins from a little nearby stream, the water tasting clean and finer than any ale to cleanse your palate. It's a simple bite to eat, but when you're surrounded by such luscious green land, you can't help but feel like you've been spoiled by a feast.

Promises you that he's not tired, even when his eyelids begin to feel heavy and he is trying to hold back a yawn. It's only late afternoon, but you know it's been an eventful day. He tucks himself into your side, adamant on staying awake, but you're warm and soft and he works so hard and stays on guard all the time... closing his eyes might do him some good. Soon enough, you've got a quietly snoring halfling gripping onto your side, his forehead pressed to your ribs. You let him rest as you enjoy the peace of your secret meadow, and you swear you feel his hand gently squeeze your own in thanks.

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ao3feed-bakusquad · 10 months

Text

WIP

WIP by Inspired Poet

Will be named eventually, still a wip til I figure out a name

Bakugou Katsuki wants to be a hero. But it's not for himself anymore, not after Midoriya Izuku takes his advice and jumps off the top of a building. Katsuki's journey to be a hero has a dark history behind it, shaping his experiences for the rest of his life. But he finds his way through the trauma and guilt and even finds people who support him in spite of who he used to be. Because he's different now. And he just needs to make sure Izuku would have been proud.

- note - This is a story largely about processing grief and self-change. Yes, this will have darker themes. Please mind the tags, they are there for a reason and are all important. There are several potential trigger warnings for this story, but suicide and discussion of it are very prevalent. Some specific trigger warnings will be in the notes of each chapter, but please keep in mind what you're getting yourself into, and that I may have missed some potentials. Nothing gory or too heavy on blood, but definitely dark. Katsuki-centric and lots of angst, but I'm giving him a happy ending. Eventually.

Words: 279, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Class 1-A, Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Inko, Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku

Additional Tags: Bakugou Katsuki-centric, Guilt, Grief/Mourning, Dead Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Commits Suicide, Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Shinsou Hitoshi is in Class 1-A, U.A. Student Yoarashi Inasa, he's in 1-B so it's even, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is a Good Teacher, Kirishima Eijirou is a Good Friend, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, Kirishima Eijirou is a Ray of Sunshine, lots of guilt and grief I cannot stress this enough, Psychological Trauma, Therapy, lots of therapy please, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, a bit of Hurt/No Comfort as well I guess, technically, Alcohol, Not a lot but it's there

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48697555

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Kiribaku #♥#Kiribaku #Izuku Midoriya #💎#💥#⚣#R:T #W:S #A:Inspired #Mental Illness

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violettduchess · 1 year

Note

I noticed licht doesn't have a kiss fic yet. Sorry, I know you're busy with the broken heartstrings series rn but I'm gonna trow it in anyways for when you might have time, before i forget about it [again]

hugs ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ and Love, V

A/N: Thank you for the request @viohasgoneintothewoods 💜 Licht has been requested several times before (hello Licht kiss anons!) but I wasn't sure how to fulfill it without it being a bit darker than some of the other kiss fics. But now that I have thrown myself into writing angst, this request fits right into Broken Heartstrings (and is a lot faster to write)! So here you go!

Word Count: 568

His name means “light.”

And when he holds you in his arms, you believe the warmth that fills your heart rivals any bright ray of summer sunshine. Peace and contentment flood you at the feel of his strong embrace, a fortress that would withstand anything if it meant protecting you. He is a bastion of love, a bulwark you can hold on to in the face of any turbulent storm.....but what do you do when those very arms are what is shaking? When the light you know he possesses begins to dim?

His name means “light."

But the man you love is haunted by shadows. The past has a dark grip over him, long tendrils that snake their way silently through his mind, that wrap around his heart like black, thorny vines and squeeze.

He is a paradox: delicate strength. Mighty fragility.

In the bright light of desire, when he allows that passion to overrule any other emotion, he is as powerful as Helios. But instead of driving four fiery steeds across the sky, he is blazing a trail of kisses across your body. His lips are fire, stoking the heat in your veins, bringing a sunset-colored flush to your skin. As sure as the sun burns a beaming path across the sky, so does Licht set you aflame. His mouth is sure, his hands are steady. He is a torch in the darkness, lighting the way, leading you higher and higher towards the heavens. His name escapes your lips, the sound a comet of radiant light across the night sky. He kisses you and you are a supernova on the verge of bursting. You are Sirius, the brightest star in the heavens. You are filled with the light of his love and his adoration and his fervent need and you are unstoppable.

His name means "light."

But sometimes desire and love and want are not enough to spark that glow. Sometimes the darkness wins. Sometimes his mouth is unsure. His hands unsteady. Sometimes he does not think to reach for you at all because he is afraid that he is something foul, something that will not empower you but rather taint your goodness with something less than. He shrinks into the shadows, prefers to wrap his arms around himself, storm clouds pelting him with a cold rain that screams, “You are unworthy. You do not deserve this.” It is then your turn to reach out, through the stinging gray fog and find him. To pull him into the warm circle of your embrace, to run a hand over his soft, silver hair and press kiss after loving kiss against his chilled skin. You kiss understanding against his cheek, cold and damp with tears. You kiss acceptance against his pale forehead. You kiss empathy into the curve of his jaw. And you kiss his lips, feeling the way they tremble against yours, and give him all of your love, tender and patient. Over and over your lips touch his. Over and over you tell him wordlessly how deeply you love him. Over and over and over until the tremors that wrack his scarred body cease. Until his war-torn heart finds a steady rhythm once again. Until the haunted shadow fades from his luminous eyes. Until the well of tears has run dry.

His name means “light.”

And you will always find him in the darkness.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri licht #licht klein #kiss fic #broken heartstrings #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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fwoopersongs · 2 years

Text

暮江吟 - Sunset over the river, a song

by 白居易 (Bai Juyi, 772－846)

一道残阳铺水中 yī dào cányáng pù shuǐzhōng The setting sun a blanket upon water, spread,

半江瑟瑟半江红 bàn jiāng sèsè bàn jiāng hóng half the river a tremulous green, the other half dyed red.

可怜九月初三夜 kělián jiǔ yuè chū sān yè O’ lovely, this night of the ninth month’s third day,

露似真珠月似弓 lù sì zhēnzhū yuè sì gōng with the dew pearl-like and moon bow-shaped.

...........................................................................................................

First piece of poetry homework from 青山赛! I probably won’t do this for every piece, but as this one has a bit of an interesting background, and it’s the first homework, I thought I’d just go all out! xD

Just sharing for fun... this is my template!

Initial Translation and Commentary

A dusk sunbeam [1] across the water drapes [2], half the river a tremulous green [3], half of it dyed red. How lovely this sight of the ninth month’s third day, with the dew pearl-like and the moon bow-shaped.

[1] 残阳 (cányáng) - lit. remaining sun So it actually took more recalibration to decouple 残 from its ruined/crippled meaning in my head than I ever would have expected. That particular vibe was very jarring and actively interfering in my enjoyment of the scene D: But I found that looking up pictures of red sunsets where part of the sun has sunk below the horizon, or is broken up by clouds helped a lot.

[2] 铺水中 (pù shuǐzhōng) - lit. blanket/cover in the water 铺 is a word that I *know* but the visual had not been associated with its pronunciation and meaning. We say 铺床 to make a bed. And that link for me makes the rays of the setting sun that cover the water, land very gently. It's not a 殃 reflect nor a 昭 shine which turns the surface of the water glittery and bright, but a slow and comforting 'envelop'.

[3] 半江瑟瑟 (bàn jiāng sèsè) - lit. half the river green Susurrus is a word I look forward to using alongside 瑟瑟 in future where it is appropriate (One onomatopoeia for another!). That place is probably not here xD I thought at first that it was meant as the sound of wind on the water and the ripples from that, or maybe the reflection and sound of trees by the river. But something was off, because there is no 'sound' elsewhere in the poem; all the descriptions were visual. So on looking up the word, there was one meaning that made a lot of sense!

A green gem. 瑟瑟 was listed without any reference to colour in the chapter on 'Western Regions' in the Book of Wei (On the period of 385 - 550) alongside other precious imports like 真珠. Later usages of the word linked the 瑟瑟 stone to the colour green, and the word itself to the colour.

So there we have half the river sunset red, and emerald where the rays and reflection do not reach. Maybe there are trees in the way ~

On the time difference between sunset, moonrise and dew formation... I think the poet got lost in enjoying the beautiful scenery and amused himself with writing it all down without exposing the time differences. It certainly amused me to notice it!