The Season of Success
Why is it you still strive hard,
Into doing exhausting things,
That you’ll eventually discard,
When you’ve finally reached spring?
Ah, the reoccurring spring,
Where flowers are prettily blooming,
And birds that are gleefully chirping,
The season of success.
The season you longingly yearn for,
That you sadly can’t obtain,
Like a bottle of liquor,
Tis’ why you’re alive, feeling in vain.
Success cannot come so easily,
Since spring, summer, fall, and winter—
Follow one another regularly,
Thus patience is the trigger, so do let it linger.
It may be your winter right now,
So it’s alright to quiver and shout,
Your worries may make you say ciao,
But you’ll find a solution for it,
Without further of a doubt.
We don’t know what tomorrow may bring,
But I ensure you, everything has a reason.
So, patiently going through the seasons,
Will take you, to your long-awaited spring.
— a poem made by me
*insert gon saying killua*
anyways, I feel like I need to rewatch hxh because I forgot most of the story plot, sighs...
This feeling, what exactly is it?
I feel light. Light enough to fly high above the clouds, no, the heavens!
Even without wings, surely the wind would take me there. Everything seems possible with what I’m feeling right now.
The crickets are chirping, the river is dancing, the wind, it’s making a faint tune that makes me feel giddy, can you feel that?
Prance, prance, prance, I’m happily prancing around, listening to the sounds around me, not really knowing what's real or not, due to what I’m feeling right now.
Though I’m not yet certain, what makes me feel this way.
Is it you, perhaps?
No, it can’t be.
I sit down beside you.
If it really is you, then I should’ve been experiencing this sensation everyday. You’re always with me, yes? So why, is this the first time I’ve ever felt this way?
Ah, stop with these thoughts. Think, think, think. People are yet to come. Tis’ only you and I in this place.
We’ve always been together, for as long as I can remember. In fact, now that I’ve mentioned it, these days I’ve only been thinking about you. But what's so special about you? I don’t understand.
I feel ebullient, alive, silly. The wave of emotions I’m feeling right now, cannot give me the exact word I’m searching for. What changed?
Then I realized.
I stand up. I look around and notice how dark and gloomy this place is, yet I feel safe and sound.
I took a deep breath as I walk towards outside the forest.
Glancing at your body one last time, a smile formed in me and I proceeded to look back towards the exit.
As I walk away from the body, I wiped the blood off my hands.
Alas, I have finally found it.
Freedom, I thought.
Ok uh.. this my first time posting my writing so i hope it made sense </3
also listen to the song I put for better reading experience, lol
ok that's all goodbye
wow um scaramouche hair reveal : D
Lets pause and appreciate Kyoya Ootori
Making a profit off his fellow club members
Eating a cheeseburger
Doing the glasses thing
Being a sexy vampire
Being evil awesome
That concludes this Kyoya Ootori appreciation post for today, please continue scrolling.
laurent: oh my god. i hate you. leave me alone.
damen: i’m trying to. let go of my arm.
2B with nik and damen or laurent and nicaise bc they're bffs or even nik and nic your call!!
k, I got carried away and this is not even part of the art meme anymore lol…The best bros!
and one salty Laurent.
IM FEELING PAIN RIGHT NOW-
yes i LOVE old memes
wAIT SO IS IT RONAN AND GANSEY OR BLUE AND GANSEY?? I CANT HELP BUT SCREAM WHEN IM STILL IN BOOK ONE HELP
looking for content on a series you haven’t finished and accidentally getting spoiled:
im reading the raven cycle series rn.. i have finished book one and i just want to say that noah must be protected AT ALL COSTS. ok thank you for listening, goodbye.
If you can’t handle me at my
you don’t deserve me at my
i was expecting myself to cry and feel pain but all i felt was excruciating torture and ache coming from the depths of my heart that i didnt even knew it existed until i read the ending...sobs
me, [knowing full well how song of achilles is going to end but not knowing how it is going to end]:
“Later, we lay on the riverbank, learning the lines of each other’s bodies anew. This, and this and this.”
“His hand drifted down to the vee at the base of my throat, drew softly across the pulse. “What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here?”
“No,” I said.
“This surely, then.” His hand moved across the muscles of my chest; my skin warmed beneath it. “Have I told you of this?”
“That you have told me.” My breath caught a little as I spoke.
“And what of this?” His hand lingered over my hips, drew down the line of my thigh. “Have I spoken of it?”
“And this? Surely, I would not have forgotten this.” His cat’s smile.”Tell me I did not.”
“You did not.”
“There is this, too.” His hand was ceaseless now. “I know I have told you of this.”
“The memories well up like spring-water, faster than I can hold them back. They do not come as worms, but like dreams, rising as scent from the rain-wet earth. This, I say. This and this. The way his hair looked in summer sun. His face when he ran. His eyes, solemn as an owl at lessons. This and this and this. So many moments of happiness, crowding forward.”
hey its me again, crying at 1 am like a baby-
Ok, so, for your own sake, don’t think about Achilles.
Don’t think about Achilles arriving in the afterlife, jumping from Charon’s skiff before’ it’s even hit the beach, looking around in expectation.
Don’t think about Achilles, still filled with determination, moving, almost running through the crowd of souls in the plains of Elysium, looking for the one face he’s been longing for.
Whatever you do, don’t think about when he slows, when he starts calling Patroclus’ name, worried, angry, panicked, over and over until his voice is raw.
Don’t think about when he realizes that Patroclus isn’t there. That his soul must still be on earth, a world away yet again. Don’t think about his legs giving out, his cries, the way he pulls his hair and throws off the armour he no longer needs.
Don’t think about how he curls up, face and hands pressed against the cold, dark earth of the underground, cursing his fate. Cursing the world.
Don’t think about how he cries, like he cried before he died, without hope of ever stopping.
Don’t think about Achilles, desperate, making his way from Macaria, the goddess of burials, to Melinoë, the goddess of ghosts and lost souls, all the way to Hades, lord of the dead, and Persephone, Goddess of the earth, begging them all to bring his love to the realm of the dead where he belongs. Don’t think about them all turning him down, unable to do ask he asks, bound by the rules that govern the world.
Whatever you do, don’t think about Achilles sitting by the river Styx, staring into the dark, clinging to the small hope that Patroclus might come on the next boat.
Don’t think about Hector finding him there. Don’t think about Hector, stripped of the power and privilege, of the hurt and anger that life holds, sitting down next to the man that killed him, and offering his apology for having done this to him.
Don’t think about Achilles, tired, worn and grieving Achilles, apologizing in turn for the way he acted after Hector’s defeat.
Do not think about Hector’s hand on Achilles’ shoulder as they sit together, looking at the water, Hector figuring that Achilles did spare him, giving him ten more years of his life than he really ought to have had, whether intentional or not.
Don’t think about Achilles, alone once Hector has left him again, staring at the water, knowing a single drop on his lips will take the pain away, will drive all memories of his life from him, including the ones of Patroclus.
Do not think of how he cries, still and quiet this time, on the barren shore, finding he can not do it, for to lose his memories is to lose all he has left of him.
Instead, think of the day that the boat comes across the water, for the thousandth time since Achilles arrived, yet this time it is different.
Because there is a light on the boat, small and flickering like a candle in a storm, but it is there.
Do think of how Achilles calls his name long before he can actually see his face. Of how Patroclus calls back. Of how he jumps before the skiff touches the sand, into Achilles’ waiting arms, embracing him like he never intends to let go.
Think of how the underworld that seemed dark, cold and barren to Achilles before is now light, and warmth, and joy.
Think of how they are still there, together, until the end of eternity.