#tsvetaeva I'm looking at you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowgurrrl · 7 months

Text

This Time Around

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: I wasn’t gonna write anything for Joel’s birthday and then I took a shower and got all writery about it

Summary: “I’ll cry about this earth in heaven too.” — Marina Tsvetaeva, from Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries, 1917-1922; “A Hero of Labor” aka a different September 26th [1.2k]

Warnings: grief (what’s new), talks of Outbreak Day, June being way too deep for tumblr dot gov

When your brain is done wading through the skeletons and sparks of rage from your past, Joel's breathing is the first thing you hear. You can tell he's awake. His breaths are just a little too close together for it to result from his circadian rhythm. You stretch to bring real feeling back into your body, replacing the weight of a gun in your hands with Joel's soft skin. When you blink your eyes open, the sun is barely peeking in through the curtains and reflecting off his graying strands. He looks beautiful. You smile and kiss his jaw, your hand resting on his cheek to keep him from scrambling away.

"Hi." He says, his voice fatigued, and rests a hand on your thigh.

"Hey," you say. "D'you get any sleep?"

"No." He swallows thickly, and you nod. He dreads his birthday every year. Seeing the date on the calendar makes him relive his final day with Sarah. He turns the events over and over again in his head like he's looking for an alternate outcome where he, Sarah, and Tommy make it out safely and together. Like if he stares at the anniversary hard enough, he can will it to change. In the few years since you've come to Jackson, he's been open to doing some things to celebrate his birthday, mostly to appease Ellie, but he always picks up a shift to keep his mind off it. However, Ed took over his patrol shift this year without asking him. When Joel interrogated him about it, he said, "Ain't no sense in leavin' your family if you don't have to."

Ed doesn't know the exact details of what you and Joel endured that night, but he can guess. It's probably similar to what he went through with his wife before she died. The rumor is that he was at work, and she was already gone by the time he made it home. Infected broke in the house, and there was nothing she could do to protect herself. It's why he's always taking shifts so others can go be with their families or friends. It's a thoughtful gesture, but the suddenly empty day made Joel anxious and quiet, something Charlie immediately noticed. You told her Daddy's birthday makes him sad sometimes, but can't find the words to explain what happened that night. Twenty years later and there's still no coherent way to talk about everything you lost in the blink of an eye.

It's still early. Charlie is still asleep. Ellie's offer to take care of her for the day still stands. You don't bombard him with questions about what he wants to do or what you should do today. There's no right way to mourn the way of life the world collectively lost and celebrate your husband simultaneously. You play with the messy curls at the nape of his neck and take a deep breath.

"We don't have to do anything. We can just… lay here. Pretend the world's not there. Whatever you want," you mumble. "I just want you to know I'm really happy you were born today." He doesn't say anything, but his jaw flexes, and you catch the tears sparkling in his eyes.

When Charlie wakes up, he puts on a brave face and offers to make her pancakes, pretending like today is just another day. Ellie, Dina, and JJ come over around lunchtime, and Ellie hides the tiny framed picture she drew of Joel holding JJ, yellow sunbeams lighting their faces like cherubs. It's rare that she uses color in her drawings. Then again, it's rare that Joel lets anyone acknowledge his birthday. It's special.

Tommy, Maria, and Camille come over, too, and the kids play in the backyard while the adults sit on the back porch with lemonade and a little bit of celebratory whiskey Tommy brought. You listen to the brothers exchange stories about growing up in Texas and their parents, something they never talk about, and laugh a little too hard at a story of a seventeen-year-old Joel getting caught climbing out of some cheerleader's window by her dad. At one point, Camille and Charlie climb the porch with a toddling JJ not far behind and a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in each tiny fist. Joel takes a shaky breath as he accepts the little beautiful things from the beautiful little girls. You can almost hear his thoughts running wild with accusations of not deserving the flowers, the girls, his family, and his life, and you put a hand on his arm to silence them.

"Thank you, honey." He manages to get out before pressing a kiss to each of their heads. Just like that, the kids are off again to run around and play silly made-up games together. There's a heavy moment of silence on the porch where no one knows exactly what to say. You raise your eyebrows at Joel, wordlessly offering him an out, and he shakes his head.

"Joel?" Dina finally speaks up, and he turns to look at her. "What was it like? Y'know… before?" She asks. Ellie turns her head to mumble something dismissive, but Joel stops her. To pretend like today isn't full of sadness and anger and regret is to strip it of its full meaning. Joel takes a breath as you squeeze his arm. The kids are giggling together in the grass, and the air is cool. You can smell the earth and the last batch of wildflowers pushing through the soil before it gets cold. There's not a cloud in the sky, the endless blue stretching out over the mountains and hills of Jackson. He smiles as the kids fall down after playing an aggressively fast game of Ring Around the Posie and finally looks back at Dina.

"Was a lot like this," he says. "Scary and dangerous and sad but… happy," you smile as he nods like he's just realizing this himself. "Even with all the shit, we were so goddamn happy."

"Sounds nice," Dina says.

"It was," he turns to look at you. "It is."

That night, after everyone has gone home or fallen asleep on your couch (Ellie and Charlie), Joel walks outside and stands under the stars. You don't follow him, but you watch him through the kitchen window. His head is tipped back, and he's searching the night sky for something. You remember looking up at the same sky twenty years ago with blood pouring out of your arm and Jane sleeping on your chest and wondering if life would ever be okay again. You didn't know your future husband was hundreds of miles away, wondering the same thing. You didn't know your second daughter would lose her mother under the same night sky six short years later. You'll never know how the earth keeps spinning despite the grief weighing it down or how the night sky looks the same no matter who was killed or born under it.

What you do know is that when Joel comes in with cold hands and tear-stained cheeks, you'll be there to hold him. You'll cry and grieve together in the kitchen you rebuilt for your family. You'll hold his hand the whole way up the stairs, tell him you love him, and fall asleep once his breathing evens out. You know you'll dance this dance and sing this song for as long as it takes for September 26th to feel a little bit less painful. It may take the rest of your life to achieve, but there are far worse things to fall victim to.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

#joel and sarah #joel miller x reader #joel miller series #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller and ellie williams #joel miller au #joel miller #the last of us #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us series #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #dad!joel miller

145 notes · View notes

teddybasmanov · 8 days

Text

Lily of the valley, snow-white lily of the valley

Pairing: Dimi/Malenkee

TW: nightmares, mentions of death, mentions of firearms, implied nudity.

Word count: a bit above 750 (but since I decided to be weird and give translations instead of writing everything initially in English it's closer to a thousand).

Notes: Title from a poem by Tsvetaeva that is being sang here (there's also a full translation - for once not mine). This is absolutely not canon compliant in any way. I made up a patronymic for Dimi (it's from a book/movie character). I use they/them for the listener, but in direct speech in Russian I use he/him (which you wouldn't have known unless I've told you or you know Russian well enough).

They wake up in the middle of the night shaken by a nightmare they can barely remember - something with odd masked men. Their new friend breathes quietly by their side and they slowly sit up and put their feet on the floor - they need to go to the bathroom to calm down and they're afraid they cannot cry silently enough not to wake up the person right next to them. They pull Dimi's jacket from the chair beside the bed to put it over their naked shoulders - the apartment is chilly especially at night - and feel the weight of the gun still in their pocket. (If they weren't so distressed they would have though that it's just like that one scene from "Diamonds for the Dictatorship of the Proletariat", except they aren't trying to shoot their bedmate.)

They stand in front of the mirror for a bit, before turning on cold water and getting their hands under it before putting them on their cheeks. They feel stress tears starting to gather at the corners of their eyes and they let them spill - it's okay, definitely crying quieter than the running water. That's how Dimi finds them - dutifully wiping the tears off their face with cold water.

He leans on the door frame and they notice him in the mirror and promptly drop their eyes to the sink.

"Что-то не так, Дмитрий Юрьевич?" [Something's wrong, Dmitry Yurievich?] they ask quietly, their voice flat.

"Это я должен спршивать, что не так," [It's me who's supposed to be asking what's wrong.] he takes a step towards them.

"Всё в порядке, прошу прощения, если я Вас разбудил," [Everything's alright, I'm sorry if I woke You up.] they still aren't looking at his reflection.

He takes another step forward and gently puts a hand on their shoulder, "И именно потому, что всё в порядке, ты плачешь в ванной?" [And exactly because everything's alright, you're crying in the bathroom.] he says softly, not really a question.

"Всё правда в порядке, просто приснилась какая-то ерунда," [Everything's really alright, I just dreamt some nonsense.] they try to give him a smile, but it not very convincing.

He sits on the edge of the bathtub, getting to their eye-level, and pulls them onto his lap and they don't resist, leaning against him as they feel their shoulders starting to tremble and the tears coming out for real.

"Шшшш, мой маленький, я здесь, я с тобой," [Shhhh, my little one, I'm here, I'm with you.] he wraps his arms around them and whispers almost directly into the top of their head, "Что же тебе такое приснилось?" [What did you dream about.]

"Я не помню," [I don't remember.] they shake their head somewhere into the crook of his neck and their mind helpfully reminds them of an image from the beginning of the dream, "Только помню, что Вас убили," [I only remember that You were killed.] the last words of the sentence get drowned out in sobs.

"Ну что ты, маленький, из-за меня так убиваешься," [Oh, little one, and you're so upset about me.] he gently strokes their back, while they calm down again.

"Вы из-за меня жизнью рискуете," [You risk your life for me,] they say seriously finally lifting their eyes at him, "а я даже не могу вам ничем помочь". [and I cannot even help you.]

"Ох," [Oh,] he cannot help but give them a somewhat lost smile, "но, маленький, ведь я бы и так рисковал жизнью, только теперь мне есть за что - вернее за кого," [but little one, I'd be risking my life anyway, just now I have something - or rather someone to do that for.] he puts his hand on their cheek and it covers almost half of their face. They lean into it and drop their gaze again.

"Мне нечего ответить Вам на такое, и всё же я чувствую себя виноватым, что я подвергаю Вас опасности," [I have nothing to answer you for that, and yet I still feel guilty for putting You in danger.] hey put their hand on top of his and slightly turning their head kiss his palm.

"Ах ты глупенький, опасности значит он меня подвергает - да я может безопаснее, чем с тобой, себя в жизни не чувствовал?" [Oh, you silly thing, 'putting me in danger' - maybe I've never felt myself safer in my life than I do with you?]

"Если это так, то я скажу, что из нас двоих глуп не я," [If that's so, then between the two of us I'm not the silly one.] they finally return his smile and he pulls them in for a kiss. They wrap their arms around his neck and his jacket starts slipping from their shoulders.

He catches it, wrapping it around them again, "Пойдём спать, маленький, у тебя же и так глаза слипаются". [Let's go to sleep, little one, your eyes are already closing.]

They hum affirmingly, but before they make a move to get off his lap, he picks them up and stands up.

"Дмитрий Юрьевич, пожалуйста, не врежьтесь в стену, Вы же без очков," [Dmitry Yurievich, please, don't bump into a wall, You're not wearing your glasses.] they say almost half-playfully, while he carries them back to bed.

"Я могу ходить здесь вообще с закрытыми глазами," [I can walk here with my eyes completely closed.] he retaliates setting them on the bed and taking the jacket off them to put it back on the chair.

They settle in bed, he wraps his arm around them as they cuddle up closer to him.

"Спокойной ночи, Дмитрий Юрьевич," [Good night, Dmitry Yurievich.] they whisper into his chest.

"Спокойной ночи, мой маленький". [Good night, my little one.]

#jimち asmr #jim asmr #writing #?#when I decided to google how to properly transliterate Yurievich it hit me that 'Dmitry Yurievich' gives anyone #who spent any time on russian internet a very obvious association - but I assure you that was an intended outcome #it's from above-mentioned Diamonds for the Dictatorship of the Proletariat

4 notes · View notes

tokyocyborg · 1 year

Text

in a pretentious mood tonight and i like using my blog as my brain personified so here are some of my favourite quotes/poems

"I don't want to be the one who mourns everything when everyone else has clearly forgotten. It's mortifying. It's mortifying to be the one who remembers."

Ryan O'Connell

"I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else."

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

"I was hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it, to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once."

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

"While you wash your body you realize it is not your body. And at the same time, it is the only body you have."

Warsan Shire, Hooyo Isn't Home

"I am doing my best to not become a museum of myself. I am doing my best to breathe in and out."

Natalie Díaz, American Arithmetic

"I want to be myself again. I want to be six. I want to stop knowing everything I know."

Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

"You are embarrassed about your blood, it's redness, the way it is just coming out of you with no concern for anyone's feelings. You are [...] embarrassed to be alive."

Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House

"Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined."

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

"'How do you get so empty?' he wondered. 'Who takes it out of you?'"

Ray Bradbury, Farenheit 451

"In a sense, I'm the one who ruined me: I did it myself."

Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

"Nothing has changed. I was the stupid one again. I was the girl who never understood who she was to people."

Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I'm Home

"'I am destroying myself so other people can't,' she said. 'And it's the worst kind of control but it's the only form I know.'"

Sue Zhao

"Mother / Eat me and give birth to me again / This time around I'll make you proud."

Maia Baia, Mother

"Who attached these heavy wings on my shoulders?"

Marina Tsvetaeva, On a Red Horse

"I search for you in my dreams."

Li Qingzhao, Tune: The Partridge Sky

"Sometimes I think if nobody spoke to me, I'd never speak again."

Alice Oseman, Radio Silence

"I want to / sin / every time / I am with / him."

Ming D. Liu, He wants to corrupt me. And I let him.

"I couldn't touch you without ruining you, / so I didn't touch you at all."

Mindy Nettifee, All I Had To Say For Myself

"If there is a God then I am going to make him cry."

S. Osborn, Blasphemies at the 5th Street Station

"I am here, alone, at the end of the world. I reach out and touch nothing."

Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (tr. Alfred Brinbaum)

"I considered suicide, but I felt a strange fondness for my body, my life. Scarred as they were, they were mine."

Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

"This is what our dying looks like. You believe in the sun. I believe I can't love you."

Jericho Brown, Another Elegy (This is what our dying looks like)

"I am in the mood / to be forgotten."

Hanif Abdurraqib, FOR THE DOGS WHO BARKED AT ME ON THE SIDEWALKS IN CONNECTICUT

"It is awful to want to go away and want to go nowhere."

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

"I took a certain pleasure in informing the gender clinic that even though their program told me I could not live as a Gay man, it looks like I'm going to die as one."

Louis Sullivan

"Lie to yourself about this and you will forever lie about everything."

Frank Bidart, Queer

"I am quiet, I bury no one, blood is drying beneath my nails. I do not know which me it belongs to."

Julian Randall, On the Night I Consider Coming Out to My Parents

"I have stopped bringing flowers to the grave of the teenager I used to be."

Blythe Barid, If My Body Could Speak

"My longing for the past is deeper than words."

Tao Yuan-ming, Matching a Poem by Secretary Kuo (tr. Burton Watson)

"The day I died / I didn't tell / my body."

Jasmine Mans, Black Girl, Call Home

"(does not dream; is only dreamed of)"

Franny Choi, Soft Science

"Growing up and seeing your parents' flaws is like losing your religion. I don't believe in God anymore. I don't believe in my father either."

Nicola Yoon, The Sun is Also a Star

"Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine."

Richard Siken, Crush

"I needed to be somewhere different. Maybe I needed to be someone different, too."

Heather Davis

"I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come."

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

"To be made of flesh was humiliation."

Alice Munro, Lives of Girls and Women

"Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be devoured?"

Friedrich Nietzsche, Good and Evil

"I am tired. / These people make me feel like I have a hole in the middle of me."

D. H. Lawrence, The Complete Works; The Plumbed Serpent

"I've polished this anger and now it's a knife."

Cathy Linh Che, Go Forget Your Father

"Home is the first grave."

Fatimah Asghar, How'd Your Parents Die Again?

"Who hasn't ever wondered: am I a monster or it this what it means to be a person?"

Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star

"That's how hearts get broken, you know. When you believe in promises."

Kathleen Glasgow, Girl in Pieces

"So much to do today: / kill memory, kill pain, / turn heart into a stone, / and yet prepare to live again."

Anna Akhmatova, The Sentence

"My body is burning with the shame of not belonging."

Warsan Shire

"I want things to hurt- / cigarette smoke to burn my lungs, / glass shards to cut my skin / pavement to rasp against my knees. / I do not want beautiful; / I want a goddam tragedy."

Meggie C. Royer, Tragedies

#got bored idk #poetry #poem #words #writing #quote #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled writing #poetry comp #also posted a version of this on my vent acc #idk i really like this

7 notes · View notes

maraartt · 4 months

Text

— I like it that you're burning not for me.

— I like it that it's not for you I'm burning.

This quote is from a poem by Marina Tsvetaeva, and also from a song in the film "The Irony of Fate, or Enjoy Your Bath!" (the song is very beautiful, I advise you to find it on youtube).

Olga and Dr Lindenberg didn't interact in any way in the original story, but once I thought of them as a couple once, I can't stop now.... (and I now have some ideas about their interaction).

It would probably be an unhealthy relationship, these people would be better off basically never meeting in their lives ever, but --

but look at them

(The reference is that scene from Oppenheimer)

#look at them #artists on tumblr #artwork #digital illustration #comic art #comics #original comic #web comic #webcomic #webtoon

0 notes

luthienne · 3 years

Note

Hello honey, i'm Jacqueline.

Do you recommend poets or poems that talk about death, depression or grief and about love too?

I am in love, if I can call him that, with a boy that I met on the internet for more than a year, he lives on the other side of the world and he likes poetry as I do, he is in boarding school studying for a national exam , so my only way of communicating my words to him is through letters in the mail. I send him letters so often and sometimes he manages to secretly answer them because cell phones are banned there. In each letter I enclose korean poems because he is korean and I love korean literature, also poems that I love or see in my career. I have run out of ideas about what poems to send him this time, I don't want to be so obvious with my feelings towards him, I still adore his person, the way he is, I think I'm just a hell of a perfectionist and I'm scared to send him any poem of my liking without having paid total care to his interpretation, I hope can you give me some recommendations .Thanks for reading me.

hi ♡ i’d recommend marina tsvetaeva, anna akhmatova, rainer maria rilke, ada limón, aracelis girmay, alejandra pizarnik, dulce maría loynaz, mary oliver, mahmoud darwish, ilya kaminsky, alice notley, louise glück, emily dickinson, kahlil gibran, adonis, ocean vuong. a few excerpts:

You ask why I’m thinking of death but I’m thinking of you and it’s fleeting.

Alex Dimitrov, from “In the New Century I Gave You My Name,” American Poetry Review (vol. 44, no. 1, January / February 2015)

I know that each one of us travels to love alone, alone to faith and to death. I know it. I’ve tried it. It doesn’t help. Let me come with you.

Yannis Ritsos, from ‘Moonlight Sonata’ (tr. Peter Green, Beverly Bardsley)

To die for love to die of love to die in love to die with love to die over love to die without love to die to love to die in the mine and be a “mine” in the arms of someone’s chest wound, “Here I will die of the above.”

Fanny Howe, from Gone: Poems

“How would you like your death?” “Blue like the stars pouring through the roof.”

Mahmoud Darwish, from “They’d Love to See Me Dead” (tr. Abdullah al-Udhari)

“I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.”

Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper

see you soon, my strange joy, my tender night my song, my fairy-tale my soul. my dear happiness, my lovely, my little music, hello, my life, my love, my happiness,

endearments in letters to véra (x)

Velimir Khlebnikov, The Collected Poems & Writings of V. K. “My Darling,”

“If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.”

Robin Wall Kimmerer, from Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants

John Cage to Merce Cunningham, June 29 1943

“When I think of little flowers that grow in grass, and little streams and places where we can lie and look up at the clouds—Oh, I simply ache for them—for them with you.”

Katherine Mansfield, in a letter to J.M. Murry, Feb 20, 1918

“And your letters, your sweet and dear letters—when I read them, I feel like a plant growing in light. And I forget my own shadows.”

Kahlil Gibran, in a letter to Mary Haskell, featured in Beloved Prophet

Once by mistake she tore a map in half. She taped it back, but crookedly. Now all the roads ended in water. There were mountains right next to her hometown. Wouldn’t that be nice if it were true? I’d tear a map and be right next to you.

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Map”

#i'd love to have some korean poetry recs <3 #ask #anon #you can also look through these tags ->#a kind of holiness #where does such tenderness come from #love as the center of everything #a dream ago perhaps

350 notes · View notes

parrishes-writes · 4 years

Note

ok i'm not sure if you take requests or suggestions or anything but i love your Sparda boys hobbies headcanons ( domestic and happy headcanons are the best!) and i wondering if you would consider doing some for V too? I understand if you won't, he's just my fav and I hate to see him left out :D Thanks anyway!

sure thing!!! the only reason i didn’t do v is because i wasn’t sure how to make him a separate entity from vergil with separate interests, i have nothing against him at all lmao, but… here i go!!!

so, all in all, similar to vergil, but… kind of edgier

still a reader, and a reader of poetry, but not quite as… formal, i guess??? as vergil

physical activity? he doesn’t know her

obviously he still likes william blake and john donne and the english romantics, but he also likes more modern poetry. here’s a non-exhaustive list of some of his faves:

keats!!! byron!!!

anne bradstreet

edgar allan poe, duh

very much a walt whitman fan

e.e. cummings

also a fan of the confessional poets–sylvia plath in particular, anne sexton, john berryman and the dream songs

t.s. eliot. the love song of j. alfred prufrock was LIFECHANGING, as was the waste land. also fuck andrew lloyd webber for making cats

john ashbery, elizabeth bishop, louise gluck, octavio paz, alejandra pizarnik, anna akhmatova, maria tsvetaeva

conrad aiken was a very big influence on him–romantic enough thematically, (relatively) modern in diction, a symbolist, whatta man

of all the boys, probably the one most likely to go into academia as a career??? idk why–he seems like the type who loves to get into debates about his faves. also he’s physically suited for nothing else

before we go any further: beat poetry is worthless why does anyone like bukowski. allen ginsberg and howl can stay but they’re on thin fucking ice

v is more into modern fiction than vergil is, and is also more into lit theory

house. of. fucking. leaves. house of leaves!!!

he’s also the most into science fiction and weird fiction, out of all the boys

lovecraft was problematic as hell but damn the man could write some spooky shit

has mixed feelings about postmodernism, but does like some works that fall under its umbrella

very interested in art, and especially tattoos as an art form

has an instagram specifically to follow several tattoo artists that he admires

he’s overall more on the grid than vergil, or any of the boys, really

watches his movies critically. it is critical you understand this about him.

don’t take him to the theater with you. it’s no fun to drive home with him and listen to him critique the cinematography, the plot, etc. if you want to actually enjoy your movie, go by yourself.

it’s his opinion that anything worth doing or making is worth doing right, which is why he’s so critical

obviously, he’s right all the time lmao

like dante, he’s into folklore and fables

has a sick and twisted relationship with psychoanalytic theory–it’s like a car wreck, he just can’t look away

fuck freud

that’s his most recent tattoo: “fuck freud”

(he’s projecting SO HARD. just don’t tell him that he’s doing it.)

#dmc v #dmc headcanons #devil may cry #Anonymous #asks #answer: anonymous #i hope you're happy anon v's got longer than the other 3 combined #also maybe i should have a talk with a psychoanalyst about projecting... lol #tell me how you feel about this because i don't have a good beat on v

14 notes · View notes

obeetlebeetle · 5 years

Note

Uh you know I'm asking you to do all those asks bro

aight bro u kno there’s gonna b equal exchange tho1. if you were to have Hanahaki disease, what flowers would you cough up?

hm. full disclosure i’ve never read any hanahaki fics. is this supposed to reveal something abt me or the person i love? i guess if it means a flower that symbolizes the type of love, red or pink tea roses

2. if someone were to catch Hanahaki disease for you, what flowers would they cough up?

maybe daffodils?

3. if you were any historic trope, what would you be? (i.e., the knight, the town baker, the witch of the forest, etd.)

either the knight pursuing courtly love or the lazy good-for-nothing scribe jkdshds

4. tell us about your ideal battle outfit.

ok well ideally i could use magic so like. a short, hooded cloak over a comfortable tunic and practical trouser. with sturdy boots. you know, just google erk from fire emblem.

5. what would you be a god/goddess of and what would people sacrifice to you?

i would be the god of just counsel, and people would sacrifice things they made to represent the person they wished to reconcile with to me.

6. name five iconic quotes that make you feel things.

idk how iconic these are but here goes --

"You do this, you do. You take the things you love and tear them apart or you pin them down with your body and pretend they’re yours."

— Richard Siken

“Because, you see, it is only when one is at the end (of tenderness or of any other force) that one recognizes its inexhaustibleness. The more we give, the more we have left; as soon as we give prodigiously — it flows forth! Let us bleed ourselves—and here we are, a source of life!"

— Marina Tsvetaeva

“ANTIGONE: And also because - Oh, my darling, my darling, forgive me; I’m going to cause you quite a lot of pain.”

— Jean Anouilh

But Sophie and Howl were holding one another’s hands and smiling and smiling, quite unable to stop.”

— Diana Wynne Jones

"He has a longing in him: for death by drowning.And he has a longing in him: not to go down."

— Bertolt Brecht

7. scythe, battle axe, broad sword, spear or trident?

axe babey!!

8. what combination of natural scents would you use as perfume?

hm. the smell of a forest: moss and pine, the ground wet from rain, the smoke from a campfire, the wild roses crawling in vines up the tree-trunks.

9. ancient scrolls or leather-bound books?

books babey!!

10. describe yourself as if you were a storm.

florida summer storms tower on the horizon, tall and purple and moving in fast. the thunder is so loud you can feel in your chest. the rain falls so thick you can’t see down the street, but the lightning is clear in its twisting lines. and it’s over before you know if, just an afternoon of heavy weather leaving sunshine behind.

11. what type of flower (other than a rose) would you offer someone you were trying to court?

this question is oppressing me specifically. probably sunflowers tho

12. honey in milk or cinnamon in tea?

honey in milk babey!!

13. cabin in the woods, apartment in the city or mansion in the suburbs?

cabin in the woods ofc

14. curtains of beads or lace?

lace probably?

15. vocal or instrumental music?

vocal, im a sucker for good lyrics

16. describe your ideal fantasy outfit

...see question #4 jksdfh

17. of all the fantasy races to ever exist, which one would you be?

dwarf!

18. hard candy, fruit preserves or spice cake?

spice cake dude the others Sucks

19. show us an a picture of your ideal crown.

20. tying your hair up using ribbon, yay or nay?

love the idea, never quite got the hang of it.

21. an evening in the forest with elves, a night in the caves with vampires or a morning in the garden with fae?

bring on the vamps!

22. tell us, in detail, about a curse a witch would put on you.

hm. hmm. she use daffodils and narcissus flowers, falling stars and ashes, and she would harden my heart. i would be cursed to forever seek out love, but the moment it was returned, i would be repulsed.

23. talking with sylphs or singing with nymphs?

im tone deaf, let’s have a chat

24. mint, rosemary, basil or sage?

mint babey!!

25. favorite childhood story? (doesn’t have to be a fairy tale)

o *highkey* stellaluna

26. tell us about an experience you’ve had that seemed unreal or supernatural. (doesn’t have to be scary)

my college campus has a cryptid, ive seen it twice and i swear by it. the first time was april of my second year. i was down by the bay with friends, and i saw it running across the grass between us and college hall. it was about the size of a cat, with an elongated face and no tail, tall on its legs, and it ran weird. that’s what caught my attention. have you ever seen a person try to walk or run on all fours? it ran just like that, shuddering unnatural movements, but it was so fast. the second time i saw it was april of the following year, walking back up the promenade from the bay to the dorms. it darted across the promenade about ten feet in front of me, and it turned its head to look at me but i didnt see eyes or a face.

27. would you rather have poison or healing ointment in your traveling pack?

healing ointment babey!!

28. tell us three sayings that you live by.

done!

29. vials or mason jars?

mason jars are just more useful.

30. describe your ideal masquerade ball outfit (mask included).

a three-piece victorian suit, with coat-tails ofc, all in shades of silver and white. i start the night in a full moon mask that rises above my eyes; throughout the night i subtly mark the passing of hours by changing into a half-moon mask, a crescent that curves across my face, and finally a band of darkness speckled with stars to show a moonless night.

31. splashing around in a river with mermaids or flying through the sky with harpies?

o send me to the waves

32. what would you end up in the dungeon for?

being rude to someone w a lot of power and little patience

33. if you were a fairy, what color would your wings be?

blue or green!

34. if you could have any magical item, what would it be?

a crystal ball that imbued me with powers of true divination

35. what song would the bards sing about you when you passed by?

asdkhkjsdf idiot by sure sure, bardic cover i guess

36. would you rather be a pirate or a king/queen?

a king but like. really a prince who doesn’t have to do anything.

37. would you spend more time in the field of flowers, the tavern, the docks or the marketplace?

um. the tavern. i know me.

38. would you have a painting of yourself?

absolutely not.

39. what skill are you famous for?

diplomacy?

40. if you could live any fairy tale, which one would you?

beauty and the beast but im the beast and beauty just shows up w some scooby snax n it’s very chill

41. stained glass windows or fairy lights?

both are *so* good tho :(

#shadiekid

4 notes · View notes