#+3 alliteration

[uncanny-tranny]

Asexuals and aromantics are actually allowed to do anything they want forever, and it's okay if allo people don't "get it". You don't need to be the perfect aro or ace in order to be aro or ace, I pinky swear

[lil-lemon-snails]

✨ Mid-day Nap ✨

Pastel boy is bouncing around in my brain like an errant chew toy. I am weak (and also sleepy), so here are some fluffy cuddles :3

[rosaacicularis]

“you cheered for me,” grian told him, accused of him. scar looked down at the finger poking into his chest, then back at grian’s face. his eyebrows furrowed with his confusion. “during limited life. after you,” grian paused, swallowing down a sour taste in his mouth. “after i killed you, you cheered for me.”

“well, yeah,” scar said, grabbing some materials from his shulker box. scar didn’t know if it was because he had a castle to build or because he didn’t want grian to see his hands shaking. “if you win, i win, right?”

grian took a deep breath, shaking his head. “that wasn’t third life,” he said as if scar needed the reminder. “it wasn’t going to work like that.”

“i know,” scar smiled sadly. he looked back down at his shulker, before picking it back up, switching it between his hands so he had something to do.

there was a conflicted look on grian’s face. “then why did you do it?” he asked, and scar wished their hearts were still connected, that he could still feel grian’s pulse in his chest as much as his own.

“i guess i couldn’t help it,” scar said and grian ran a nervous hand through his hair. scar reached out and tugged on it, holding it so that grian couldn’t pull out his hair. grian gripped onto it like a lifeline.

[nerdallwritey]

Wip Wednesday!

I was tagged by @khywren :)

I've been working on a new part to Beauty and the Bard slowly but surely. As always, they're idiots. Here's a sneak peak:

He sat, pulling you down with him, far enough away from the edge, where he knew you wouldn’t be nervous of falling. In the distance, the sky was just starting to indicate the sun’s arrival.  You sighed happily and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him tense a little. “Is this alright?”  Instead of answering, he leaned his head on top of yours.  “What’s something you want to do in the Underdark?” you probed. Astarion groaned. “You don’t need to make small talk with me, darling, sometimes silence is golden.” You scrunched your nose, knowing he hated pure silence. “I wasn’t being polite, I genuinely wanted to know.” He groaned again. “Even worse.” You laughed lightly and felt him laugh too, his arm gently shaking against your own.  He thought for a moment before he responded. “That Zhentarim fellow we met mentioned a cache of supplies hidden somewhere down there. That might be fun to pillage.” You laughed. “It took you that long to think of that? I’m surprised you ever stopped thinking about that!” “Oh I haven’t, but I wanted you to think your little thought experiment had actually evoked some sort of… thought… in me.” He made a face. “Want to try and rephrase that?” “Not particularly.”

I don't really have anyone TO tag (sorry I haven't been as active recently! Life happens!), but if anyone wants to post their work, consider yourself TAGGED!

[edens-serigala]

very very on board with this if sigmund and barbara are going to be regulars!

[qulizalfos]

hey lol

[autism-swagger]

Who up coring they four rn

[eri-pl]

Another alliterative verse

While seeking Feanor's speech, I found this gem from Lays of Beleriand and I will again do a very ignorant analysis (sorry I cannot internalize the more subtle rules of how this should work, Jirt seems to ignore them and it makes this even harder)

(Early Silm, so Noldor=Gnomes, and there are 9 male Valar and so on and so forth)

Lo! slain is my sire | by the sword of fiends,

his death he has drunk | at the doors of his hall

that Gnome and Elf | and the Nine Valar

and deep fastness, | where darkly hidden

the Three were guarded, | the things unmatched

not Fëanor Finn’s son | who fashioned them of yore –

can never remake | or renew on earth,

recarve or rekindle | by craft or magic,

the light is lost | whence he lit them first,

\ * ??? proto-Taniquentil? (or whatever it's called)

the fate of Faërie | hath found its hour

Thus the witless wisdom | its reward hath earned

of the Gods’ jealousy, | who guard us here

to serve them, sing to them | in our sweet cages,

to contrive them gems | and jewelled trinkets,

their leisure to please | with our loveliness,

while they waste and squander | work of ages,

nor can Morgoth master | in their mansions sitting

at countless councils. | Now come ye all,

who have courage and hope! | My call harken

to flight, to freedom | in far places!

The woods of the world | whose wide mansions

yet in darkness dream | drowned in slumber,

the pathless plains | and perilous shores

no moon yet shines on | nor mounting dawn

in dew and daylight | hath drenched for ever,

far better were these | for bold footsteps

than gardens of the Gods | gloom-encircled

with idleness filled | and empty days.

Yea! though the light lit them | and the loveliness

beyond heart’s desire | that hath held us slaves

here long and long. | But that light is dead.

Our gems are gone, | our jewels ravished;

and the Three, my Three, | thrice-enchanted

globes of crystal | by gleam undying

illumined, lit | by living splendour

and all hues’ essence, | their eager flame –

Morgoth has them | in his monstrous hold,

my Silmarils. | I swear here oaths,

unbreakable bonds | to bind me ever,

by Timbrenting* | and the timeless halls

of Bredhil the Blessed** | that abides thereon –

may she hear and heed – | to hunt endlessly

unwearying unwavering | through world and sea,

through leaguered lands, | lonely mountains,

over fens and forest | and the fearful snows,

till I find those fair ones, | where the fate is hid

of the folk of Elfland | and their fortune locked,

where alone now lies | the light divine.’ 

** I guess that's proto-Varda?

[env0writes]

NaPoWriMo Vol. 3, 17.26.24 “Crystal Clear"

Even when the evening Eases into the easel stained night Splattered with smattering of paint More bruised than bashed-in-blueberries alight I am left inundated, instigating inopportune moments Momentarily left mum, silence is the story Setting on the shelf, sun and done and book closed hence No deciduous decisions, sprouting tall and confident No starry moonlight night, alright? No night sky sigh Even as the eventide, bids good tidings Paint spilled on the patio and the portico High tide fog, forgetfully fading into dark hidings Even as it all allocates and advocated Smudged as a child’s drawing Vibrant and violently abdicated For the falsest of faeries reside within such painted worlds Constantly concerned with conscious calligraphy Brush strokes bothering the best and better Not less and lesser of folks that fiddle with paint That taint the canvas of life and skin and skim the fat from life Even in that evening Eased by every opportunity Each and every educated guess bereaving Leaving each lesson unlearned unblurred

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by my friend Mika

[37q]

i love my overall social presence because its exactly what i want. i like projecting simple conformity but after like two interactions its clear im doing something completely twisted with that concept.

[shroomboi-nerdshit]

I’m really loving Burrow’s End. big Warrior Cats energy. Warrior Weasels, mayhaps?

[deus-ex-mona]

unnecessary comparison of the day!

volume 5’s release of one of asuna’s chapters changed the subject of her stan twt cancellation posts from mona to miyu (of frusu)!

[aeolianblues]

Writing is so awesome. I had things on my mind. I sat with them and an open document for an hour. Feel like I've puked it all out. Now I can go pack and eat dinner. Free therapy

[sysig]

The heart grows ever fonder ♥ (Patreon)

[qulizalfos]

lost love, so strange

It’s happening again, it dawns on him, he can feel it like a phantom casting his vision half in shadow: Will Byers is going to lose Mike Wheeler, which is a truth that he’s lived through enough times that he can realize when it’s happening, but never enough that he’ll know how to stop it. mike has a date - will's being a good friend about it, but what's new?

hello some angst on this friday afternoon <3

[radarchives]

GAY