#but the theme is the same

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello!

Read the prompt with the teacher request wich was pretty similar to your amazing fic „A running Leap“ and wanted to ask if you still would do the prompt request but like a special prompt to your fic? Like a bonus chapter?

I hope you can understand how I mean it, I’m sorry English is not my native language! :)

The idea sounds pretty fun but if you don’t want to do it it’s alright too!

"They're really goin' at it," Druig noted as he joined his wife on the bleachers.

It was the beginning of the season, and as usual, the team captains were demonstrating some basics before the first game between the boys and girls volleyball teams began. It was a friendly competition, meant to be a teaching moment and help inspire the kids.

Supposed to be friendly, at least.

"Mine went farther!"

"You had a better angle!"

"Yeah, because I can jump higher than you!"

The familiar squabbling of the two team captains filled the gym, even with the teams warming up around them.

"Kids, please," Kingo sighed, holding a hand out between his own captain and the captain of the girls' team. "Is this not about the children?"

"No, it's about Ikaris eating his words about being able to beat every single person here," Thena growled back, obviously having taken the statement personally.

"Just a fact, T," he grinned at his fellow history teacher (and friend, despite what they both would say about that). "I'm the strongest of us, the fastest-"

"Thena's faster," Sersi informed him without an ounce of remorse. "And obviously Makkari is faster than all of us."

She was the gym teacher and track and field coach, as well as cross-country coach.

"Okay, fine," Ikaris shrugged, "but I'm stronger than everyone here, including Gil."

All eyes went to Thena. It was no secret that she and Gil were inseparable. And surely the overly-competitive teacher would not take any remark about him lying down. "What?"

"I said," Ikaris repeated, even grinning as Gil came into the gym, "I'm stronger than Gil, and I bet I can prove it."

The newly arrived English teacher just laughed, though. "He's been saying that since college."

They had even been on their college volleyball team together, after all. It was how Ikaris had met Sersi.

"Sersi," Thena handed over the ball she had been practising her serves with earlier, "do you have a life insurance policy on him?"

"Okay, okay, easy there, T," Kingo attempted to calm the blonde firecracker. He looked at Ikaris with a snort, "there's no way you're stronger than Gil."

"What?" Ikaris balked at his friend's disbelief in him.

"Look at him!" Kingo pointed freely, making poor Gil blush.

"Stop it," Thena smacked Kingo's hand out of the air. "He's right, though, Gil could beat you any day of the week."

"Well," he murmured, wandering over to them as Thena jumped to his defense. "I don't know about that."

"Yeah," Ikaris chuckled, looking over Thena's head at Gil (much to the blonde's frustration). "Maybe all those muscles are just for show."

"Thena, really, I don't care," Gil attempted to soothe her temper, which he knew was probably just about at a boiling point now. He put a hand on her shoulder, "he's always like this."

"His muscles are not just for show!" Thena argued in Ikaris' face, grabbing a handful just to illustrate her point. "I bet he could blow any serve of yours out of the water."

Gil's blush had only gotten worse as Thena gripped his bicep. Although, his friends noticed, he was no longer arguing his way out of it.

"Oh, really?" Ikaris growled right back in his fellow coach's face. It was one thing to argue like they always did. It was another thing entirely to drag their beloved volleyball into things. "What are you willing to bet?"

"Gil is going to win," Thena proclaimed, still holding onto Gil, "so ask whatever you want."

Ikaris crossed his arms at her, "you do my bus duty for all of december."

"Deal."

"Thena, are you sure?" Gil asked with a frown, mostly because he hated the thought of her out in the cold any more than necessary. As if he wouldn't be out there with her, offering her hot chai lattes everyday.

But Thena yanked his face down closer to hers by the arm. She had that look in her eye, and nothing was going to stop her now, "you can do this, Gil."

The two coaches walked to the end line, glaring at each other all the while. Gil sighed, unbuttoning his vest and handing it to a grinning Sersi, "I guess I can do this?"

Sersi just winked at her old friend, "y'know, I'm sure Thena would be extra impressed if you showed off a little. Just...as a side note."

Gil blushed, but he was already doing this on a silly whim. He was already letting himself get dragged into this little competition, and why?

Oh, right, because Thena had grabbed onto his arm and looked at him with those eyes of hers.

It was the same reason he would stand out in the cold with her to watch kids get off buses and bring her chai lattes in the morning. It was a reason everyone but Thena was aware of.

"Kingo, you better measure impartially!" Thena yelled down the court at him.

"I'm watching, I'm watching!" he yelled back, although they all knew he had the best eyes for the job.

Ikaris freely elbowed Thena out of his way as he tossed up the ball and took a running leap. He really did have decent form for it, hitting the ball so hard it was basically a spike.

"Man, Coach Ikaris is so cool!"

"Coach Thena can spike better than that!"

"No way!"

"What's Mister G doing playing volleyball?"

"Not bad!" Kingo waved from where Ikaris' ball had hit just on the side line.

"That's borderline out," Thena declared needlessly (just to piss of Ikaris). Sersi was already dragging him back with her when Thena handed Gil the ball.

"You know, jump serves were never a specialty of mine," he admitted sheepishly with all his nerves showing.

"You'll be fine," she smiled at him, letting her hand brush over his arm gently as she stepped out of his way. She kept her eyes on him as bounced the ball a few times. He always wore a vest to teach; it was rare to see him in just a t-shirt.

Gil tossed the ball up, his back muscles moving under the tightness of his shirt. He ran up to the line and jumped, curling back to let his dorsal muscles pick up some slack. He had beautiful form.

Thena stared as his arms flexed before hitting the ball. Even just his palm meeting the ball was loud, and it rocketed to the other side of the court with the sound of canon fire. It even bounced off the back wall hard enough to come back to their side of the net.

Gil sighed, stretching out his back and arms after the first serve he'd made in more than a decade. "Man, that rust is real."

"Gil that was insane!" Kingo laughed, rushing back over to them.

"Measure the dam thing!" Ikaris complained at his assistant coach.

"Oh, he blew you away," Kingo patted his buddy's shoulder without a hint of remorse, already poking Gil in the arm. "You, though!--where've you been hiding skills like this? Why aren't you the assistant coach instead of me?"

Gil shrugged sheepishly, though, "I've coached before, but I don't really know if it's for me."

"I shouldn't be surprised, I mean," Kingo shook his head, holding up Gil's arm, "look at the gun show, here!"

Sersi bumped her hip against Thena's, "you seem to be way ahead of him on that."

"Stop it," Thena grumbled at her, although her eyes inevitably drifted to Gil as Kingo poked and prodded at those arms of his. "Everyone knows Gil is strong. It's no...it's no...no..."

Sersi raised a brow at Thena's uncharacteristic mumbling. But then she looked over.

Gil pulled up the bottom of his shirt, swiping off his forehead with it.

Thena turned around completely, blushing red at the sight of Gil's unclothed torso, a perfect mix of muscle and fat, tapering down to plump hips. She had even caught a hint of dark hair leading down from his bellybutton.

Sersi rolled her eyes at her poor, flustered coach. "You started this."

"Shut up," Thena grumbled, toying with the whistle around her neck in nervous habit. She turned, hoping her smile seemed natural, "I knew you could win!"

"Oh," Gil blinked at her enthusiasm, tugging his shirt down again with a shy smile, "thanks for the faith in me. And now you don't have to do bus duty in december!"

"What?!" Ikaris squawked.

"That was the deal," Sersi patted her husband's shoulders.

"That was if I won!"

"And Gil did, so he gets to decide," Thena stood resolute, offering Gil a towel (because her silly little heart couldn't take him flashing his happy trail again).

They all knew what the verdict would be: Gil wouldn't ask Ikaris to cover his own duties, but he would have him cover Thena's.

[o0kawaii0o]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING 🗣🗣🗣

[specialagentartemis]

Reading (listening to, as Homer intended) the Iliad making me go oh. Ohhh. I should have done this before I read Gideon the Ninth. I get it now.

Particularly thinking now about the tidbit that in early drafts, our beloved gray-eyed Necromancer Warden of the Sixth House was named Diomedes Sextus. For Diomedes, king of Argos, young, brave, noble, heroic. Favorite fighter of Athena, bestest friend of Odysseus. And, notably, fought gods and—well he didn’t win exactly. But he got them good.

And specifically, he fought and wounded Aphrodite; Aphrodite, who is also called Cytherea.

And then of course Tamsyn Muir said she decided to change his name so she could make the Sex Pal joke.

Palamedes is a less heroic, less fondly remembered character in the Trojan War, but according to Plato, he unrelatedly invented both number and the alphabet, so you keep that connection to scholarship even if that’s not the first association with him. More interestingly, imo, there’s also an Arthurian Knight of the Round Table named Palamedes, best known for his unrequited love for Isolde (and his apparent ultimately gracious acceptance of her choosing Tristan).

I think this is actually a super interesting shift in thematic naming focus: from favored-of-Athena, fought-gods-and-wounded-them to unrequited heterosexual love, but didn’t act like a dick about it.

Also y’know. Sex Pal

[flawlessflesh]

everyones got a problem when the elf starts napping

[remxedmoon]

triplets! cute!!! they must have some difference between them… but i can’t see any…

greyscale versions under the cut!

[crescentfool]

reunion 🌸

[betweendyingstars]

Artist Regulus painting his lovers

This is a DTIYS I’m hosting on instagram to celebrate 1k, so if you’d like to join go find me on there!

[zoe-oneesama]

Got some SL Kwami Swap/Merch Swaps looks thanks to my Patreon Requests (Except Adrien who's in Ladybug merch, don't get it twisted lol)

Ko-fi | Patreon

[slavhew]

charmed, i'm sure

[raepliica]

Heartbeat

[image description: A grayscale Trigun comic featuring Vash and Wolfwood.

Against a black background, child Vash floats in Ship 5, curled up and with his thumb pressed to his mouth. Heartbeat noises sound around him, and he looks at peace. The background shifts to white and shows adult Vash, sitting shirtless with his knees pulled up to his chest. The heartbeat sound continues only to be interrupted by knocking. Wolfwood, from outside the bathroom, asks, "Hey blondie! You fell asleep in there?"

The scene expands to reveal Vash sitting curled up in the bathtub, shower spraying on the back of his head. His clothes are left aimlessly on the bathroom counter and floor. From outside the bathroom, Wolfwood, shrugging of his jacket, continues, "… The sand steamer leaves at dawn tomorrow so don't take all night. I'm not waking you up gently if you're late." Vash's eyes continue to look downward, glazed and unfocused. Step sound effects and a yawn sound from outside the bathroom before Wolfwood says, "'m going to bed…". In the tub, Vash sits curled up against a dark background, before eventually lifting his head and unfurling himself as the background grows lighter.

He twists around to turn off the shower and then looks at the floor, going, "Ah." He sits, thinking, before calling out "Wolfwood?". A sleepy Wolfwood replies, "…yeah?" from offscreen. "I forgot my towel!" Vash exclaims. "Ugh, look under your change of clothes… Knew you'd forget so I left it there…" a grouchy Wolfwood replies. "Gee, thanks!" Vash replies, a cartoony doodle of him saying "so reliable!".

Vash, shirtless but with sleep pants on, opens the door, towel draped over his head, to see Wolfwood, reclining on the bed. Wolfwood's smoking and holding his rosary, lit by the light from the bathroom. Vash climbs into bed next to him, towel still around his shoulders, and rests his head on Wolfwood's chest. His eyes close and then open to see Wolfwood watching him. Vash exclaims, "Oh! It's speeding up!, and Wolfwood bonks him on the head before saying, "Get on here since ya wanna be so up close 'n personal!". The two tussle briefly and Vash laughs before Wolfwood tucks the blanket around them. Wolfwood continues to smoke as Vash curls up against his chest and listens to his heartbeat, the background turning black once again as he smiles, content. /end id]

[dekariosclan]

Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.

And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.

So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.

And then it happens again. And again.

And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.

So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?

Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.

He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.

So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.

————

Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.

…and then he meets Tav.

At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.

Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.

But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.

…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.

Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…

But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.

And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.

One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?

Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?

He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…

He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.

It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.

…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.

————

Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.

But it still all came to nothing.

Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.

Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.

Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.

Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.

Just imagine.

[thatrandomblogsays]

Me: *reading a post that makes the joke “Peeta dropped the baby bomb, Gale drops bombs on babies”* haha good one

Also me: you’re missing the point! You’re missing the point! YOURE MISSING THE POINT! He grew up starving. His best friend almost died of hunger. Most of his people live in poverty. He watched children die in a bloodbath every year for the capital’s entertainment. The girl he loved went into the games. Was tortured by the capitol. His district was bombed out of existence. Nearly everyone he knew was killed. Their only crime was being fed up of being hungry and oppressed and sharing the same district as Katniss. All those innocent people. Murdered. He had to take refuge in a district that was bombed out of existence and forced to live underground. Of course he joined the war effort. Of course he designed unethical bombs and battle tactics. He wanted revenge. He wanted the capitol to have a taste of their own medicine. He wanted the rebellion to succeed. And tell me you could live through what he did, and that no part of you would be screaming for Justice and vengeance. Gale is you. You are Gale. He represents a part of feelings and actions that reside within us, even if you don’t act on it.

“But he killed prim!” Exactly! Gale loved prim. She was a second family to her. He looked after Katniss’ family. He saved them from the district 12 bombings. He loved her. He never would’ve put her in danger. He never would’ve put in order for a bombing if it would kill Prim. But coin would. And did. She took what was meant to be a tool of Gale’s righteous revenge for all the suffering he and his people suffered through, only for someone in power to take it and use it to kill someone he loved.

There’s some many lessons to take. We can’t control the things we create. War spares no one. Even justifiable rage and actions can end up rebounding and hurting those you love instead of your targets.

“He drops bombs on babies” is too simplistic of a takeaway and does a disservice to the story and Gale.

[big-greer]

a BIG part of the lore of Dungeon Meshi is how ageism is bad. About how the long lived races treat the young lived races like children and thus infantilize them and do not show them the respect and understanding they deserve simply because of their looks or short life spans. Whether its because to them they look like children in their eyes (like half foots and gnomes) or because the adult ages of the younger lived races are still in the child ages for the longer lived ones and so they get treated/viewed as children (we see otta receive comments about getting with minors when in reality she dated adult half foot women. so we already see this view towards things like this are a thing in the lore) We see this with chilchuck, senshi, and marcille where the two later view chilchuck as a child and treat him like one even though he is a full grown man who drinks (and is supposed to have grey hairs) all because he looks young and in the newest episode its revealed he is 29 which is still young children to the two of them. We see how perspectives that characters are children because of their age being a childs age for a different race as opposed to their race or because they look like children is a completely infantilizing and disrespectful behavior that causes so many problems in the long run. a theme that is completely flying over the average tumblr users head.

ive seen people get furious at other people because they sexualize chilchuck and even marcille

“oh they look like kids so dont do that you freak”

you absolute fool you missed a major theme of the fucking story. But because they look young suddenly they are children? have you paid no attention to the story? did you just ignore how the ageisim and weird mindset about ages like that causes so many issues that could easily have been avoided. and as for the age one i see people getting furious at others for being into and sexualizing izutsumi even though she is a year past adult in tall man years, but because she isnt in the adult age range in real life (wild your applying real life society standards to a fictional medieval fantasy world). even though even in lore she would be well an adult able to get married and everything tumblr really does have the media literacy of a toddler.

[mimimar]

i've been completely charmed by witch hat atelier♡

(art prints)

[lucidloving]

墨香铜臭, Heaven Official's Blessing // Tina Tran, "Until I started choking on our memories" // Rykarda Parasol // Richard Siken, "Saying Your Names" // Bluepoch Games, Reverse 1999 // Trebbe Johnson, Fierce Consciousness: Surviving the Sorrows of Earth and Self // Marina Tsvetaeva, "Poem of the End" (trans. Elaine Feinstein) // Boyish—Japanese Breakfast // @catradoraism // Richard Siken, "Planet of Love"

[Requested by @wispy-wallfish]

[lilianade-comics]

If anyone knows about wanting impossible things, knows the pain of wanting to be loved by someone who will never reciprocate, it's Vlad. And that's the irony of it; the only one who truly understands Dani's torment is the rotten-to-the-core cause of it, and he doesn't even know he's the object of his unwanted child's all too familiar obsession.

Cold indifference. Dani almost wishes Vlad would viciously hate her instead, just so he would care about her existence. She wishes that she could be the indifferent one, that she could go a single day without thinking about a family and a father she'll never have. Or that her hatred for him would hurt him, even a little. Or that her hatred would stop feeling so much like love.

(another snippet in the cold hands continuity, a slow burn cheese melt reconciliation scenario in which a lost Dani cares too much and a tired Vlad stops caring about anything altogether)