#livre i

[diesiraekaa]

◼️ La citation du dimanche ◼️

[sootcrow]

Oh yeah I said I had been planning on drawing something better for unnecessary feelings day so here’s the full thing

Happy belated unnecessary feelings day post ft my actual reaction to seeing this scene in game for the first time

[teddybeartoji]

toji ruffling teenage gumi's hair only for the sea urchin to try to swat and push him away with a scowl ohhhhhh i'm gonna cry actually i can't do it. i think yuuji would think that toji is so fucking cool. and i think that nobara would like him too bc toji is a girl dad too. like he gets it. he hates men. he listens to the drama and gives surprisingly good advice. i am suffering i can't breathe. clumsy yuuji trips over his feet and toji keeps his on his feet by grabbing onto his scruff, chuckling at the boy and yuuji too, just laughs while scratching the back of his neck. toji knows that gumi likes yuu. he's more observant than his son thinks he is. toji sees how yuu looks at gumi and how the latter looks at the pink-haired boy. he also sees how nobara looks at the two of them and that always makes toji laugh. guys i am drowning in my own tears.

[louisferrignojr]

the old guard + john mulaney quotes [extended edition]

[thesunwillart]

happy 3 years of the old guard!!! <3 still a movie that holds such a special place in my heart

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[pinkhelados]

Underneath the cashmere sweaters and oversized hoodies, Miguel was jacked. Something that you didn’t expect from your nerdy, reserved boyfriend. Your cheeks heated. He took off his black t-shirt to reveal rippling arms and a broad, firm chest and- oh his tummy was so soft. That, you expected. “I- Oh wow,” you gasped. Miguel coughed, looking away. “Do you not like it?” You shook your head furiously. Quite the contrary, his burly arms made your panties wet with arousal. You gently grazed his arms, sqeezing his bicep. “I just wasn’t expecting- all this!”

Miguel gave you a crooked grin and pulled you into his chest. “I started a couple months ago,” He placed his chin ontop of your head and you swear your heart soared when his plushy tummy pressed up against yours. You sighed contently, fixing his glasses before kissing his lips. “Mhm.”

[girafeduvexin]

Not to be a prof de français but you should read "classics", its fun, especially if it's out of your comfort zone.

[materassassino]

The Old Guard casting for Nicky: Ok so we'll get an actual Italian because that's important, he isn't strictly Genoese, but he has played a Genoese man before so that's fine.

The Old Guard casting for Booker: He's from Marseille? Uhhhhh idk this fucking Belgian man will do.

[beaulesbian]

You need help. What does it matter why? Today, I put this on your wound. Tomorrow you help someone up when they fall. The Old Guard (2020)

[willczek-art]

Decided to give Dragon Age another try and the first character I meet COMPLETELY wins me over in a matter of seconds-

[scimitar-and-longsword]

Matthias Schoenaerts as Sébastien Le Livre The Old Guard (2020)

Character Intro Post, via @Skydance on Instagram, June 22nd 2020

TOG Promo Material (Part 5/?)

[hedgehog-moss]

me sending yet another email to a French public service to ask them why they use so many gratuitous English words in a service that's supposed to be non-discriminatory and accessible to everyone in the country

[nervocat]

“Father Gallagher?” (no cws - wc: 271, platonic/fluff, gn reader)

He'd be that cool dad ngl. Like he'd be pretty laid back and not very strict with you. He'd let you hang around the bar with Siobhan and him when he goes around there to hang out and make drinks.

If you wanted, he'd teach you how to make drinks. Whether you did good or bad, he'd still say, “Good job, kid,” as he pats you on the shoulder or head or something with a proud smile on his face. Very supportive father.

Honestly probably adopted. I don't know how that works and stuff but I can't see him NOT doing that.

Likes to walk around Penacony with you and look at some of the things around even if he's supposed to be working. His Bloodhound duties can wait, his kid takes priority.

Are you feeling stressed? Sad?? Gallagher's there for you. Whether you just want him around, want comfort or just want to rant to him about things he'll listen. Might not be good at replying or comforting, but is definitely there for you no matter what.

If you also identify as trans or something he'll be very affirmative! You want your hair cut? Sure! Wardrobe change?? Of course!! And even if you're not he's very supportive either way. Will do any of the things previously mentioned for you as well.

Gallagher would do anything for his beloved child, he'd hate to hurt you in any way, shape or form. He loves you too much for that to ever happen and if he does, instant apologies.

He's very observant, and can notice when he does something not to your liking.

notes: can you guys tell this is self-indulgent (esp the ending) :// tis my bad! but!! I am not. Um. Not in the best of moods (hence my break, just not hiatus). BUT YEAH A FIC FROM NERVO OMG?? AND IT'S PLATONIC FATHER GALLAGHER???? Also since my thoughts aren't as coherent or smth this fic might not be the best of mine 🙏🙏 I BRING FATHER GALLAGHER UPON THEE❗❗(sorry if he's possibly ooc.. haven't written him before)

★ — © nervocat || I appreciate any reblogs made, and pls don't repost or translate my works anywhere, ty — ✦

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟.

✦ info: kaeya returns home wearing his master thief costume. (takes place after the events of 'secret summer paradise' in version 3.8)

✦ warnings: not proofread.

✦ notes: where can i get myself a kaeya pls why isn't he here with me

the clock strikes nine just as the knob to your front door turns, the little bird in the wooden device chirping out the counts at precise intervals. the creaks of the door are not loud, yet they still have you jolting awake from your impromptu after-shower nap. 

“sorry, did we wake you?” a very familiar voice whispers into the dark from near the hallway. kaeya’s back! you realize, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

you shake your head, closing the book that lays open on your lap. “no, no. i just dozed off.” you laugh it off, smiling at your boyfriend and at klee, who’s dozing off comfortably in kaeya’s arms. she stirs when he moves a little too abruptly. 

“hey, it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.” he coos softly, patting her head. he sets her down on the couch, gently laying her head on a cushion.

“we had a little too much fun in sumeru,” he tells you after he’s made sure she’s sound asleep, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist. “she’s all tired out. albedo’ll be here to take her home soon.”

“i can tell. i love her mage costume.” you squint at his indigo and peacock feather get up. “and you’re supposed to be a…?”

he huffs playfully, pouting. “you can’t tell? i’m a master thief, clearly.”

“the style suits you.” you tap at his lips and his mouth spreads into a grin underneath your fingers, lighting up his entire face. “though, you’re not you without the boob-window. or that fluffy monstrosity you call a cape. it’s characteristic, but unnecessary. ”

he gasps in mock offense. “how could you slander my cape that way? you call it an unnecessary fluffy monstrosity, yet you still steal it when you’re cold, do you not?”

you exhale forcefully through your nose despite your best efforts to keep a straight face. “touché. drama queen.” 

“besides, i was born for this role, you know,” he says, mischief glinting in his periwinkle eye. “after all, did i not manage to steal your heart?” 

you roll your eyes, undoing the peacock feather tie and tugging at the braid he has his hair in to free it. he gives you a fond look, shaking his head to assist once you’ve loosened it enough. azure cascades down his shoulders, a slight wave throughout. “so, master thief kaeya, wearer of feathers, stealer of hearts.” your expression mirrors the still-present grin on his face as you loop your arms around his neck, his hair a silky waterfall on your fingers. “what caper are you chasing next?” 

“since i already have the most precious of hearts in my hands, i believe i need to steal a few kisses to complete my collection, yes?” 

“but good sir, are you sure you’d be satisfied with just a few?”

“oh, haven’t you heard, darling?” you feel his mouth curl into a slow smile against your neck, his voice a caress against your skin.

 “i’m insatiable.”

taglist: @number-one-love-lover

new taglist form (old one had issues): here.

[lily-s-world]

Like for real, it has been a year since production. Where are they?