#make them laugh and cry and scream and fall in love and write poetry and books and songs

[pumpkinbxtch]

Greetings again, since you replied that you write for Lester I wanted to give you my request, without obligation or rush obviously.  I had thought of a one-shot set during The Trials of Apollo where reader knows about Lester's crush on Reyna and is extremely jealous about it, so much so that when he is rejected, reader doesn't even want to give him a little support.  With a happy ending because I don't need my depression at my door!  Thanks again for your availability and I apologize for the inconvenience and misunderstandings since English is not my language.  ☀️

“hope python eats you” ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

— apollo x fem!reader

summary: do you like Apollo. does he like you? uhmm no. he likes Reyna and you're dying of jealousy. but perhaps the situation is not so hopeless. warning: swear words. a/n: heeyyyy, here you haveeeee. i'm hopin' that you like this. Reyna and Apollo's scene is one of my favorites, it makes me laugh how she reject him. haha, poor baby. Thank you for trusting me 💙 - Kisses from saturn, maría

Why did you have to get along so well with Reyna?

You took a sip of your apple juice and caught Apollo looking at her; those little glances, the nervous giggles and the babbling when he was around her.

You shifted in your seat, snorting and letting out small curses. Why did you have to fall in love with him? It was literally the worst.

Inside your thoughts you heard a gasp and felt water splashing right into your face. You looked ahead, disoriented. Apollo had red cheeks and stammered apologies.

— dork! — Meg shouted at him, hitting the guy on the shoulder. She looked at you and you rolled your eyes. It was like the third time Apollo ended up spilling his food just because Reyna caught him watching, always ended up all over you or Meg.

Cherry soda dripped from your chin.

He looked at you worried, more for his personal good because of what you could do to him.

— Sorry!

You lifted slightly from your seat and grabbed napkins to dry yourself.

— You are an idiot. I don't know why I don't help Python eat you.— You touched your cheeks.

— Hey!

Meg let out a laugh, making you break your scowl. How horrible love was.

—Gods, why me?! — Meg shouted, cutting her underbrush with her scimitar. You watched her out of the corner of your eye while you took stones and threw them with force. One of them with such force that it was buried in the surface of a fruit.

You wished that were the face of Apollo

— You wish it were Apollo's face.

You laughed and nudged Meg, clearly playing.

— Meg, kill me. I hate that I like your brother.

Meg shook her head and continued digging with the tips of her swords. You climbed a few more meters and the antenna was already visible.

— I don't understand how you like him.

You let out a whimper. 

A laugh echoed and both of you turned around.

—They're having a good time— You murmured, trying to escalate further. You tilted your head, trying to listen better. —Is that laugh from Reyna?

Meg narrowed her eyes at the sound and nodded. —yep.

Practically, after almost dying and hanging from high altitudes, you were able to eat in the comfort of the camp. But to be honest, your hands were still shaking.

You didn't know if it was because you had witnessed the death of another god or because you couldn't believe that Apollo had proposed to Reyna and that she had, in fact, rejected him.

Maybe it was the second.

The moans echoed around the table again.

— I'm an idiot.

Meg looked at you out of the corner of her eye. Your look was gone and half of your food was cold.

Maybe you were overwhelmed by everything, actually.

Another squeal from Apollo made you clench your fork.

— SHUT UP!

You screamed and threw the metal cutlery at him, making him scream.

—You should hug me and cry with me.

You snorted.

— Never, I don't know why you told Reyna your feelings like that!

—And how was I supposed to do it?

— You are the god of poetry, shouldn't you already know that? You are a fake.

Apollo let out an indignant groan. He looked to Meg for support, but she agreed with you by nodding and extending her palm towards you.

— she has a point. Hmmm — and she went back to devouring her salad.

You went to sleep, and the first to fall like a log was Meg. You kept trying to shrink and squeeze your eyes until they finally stuck together, and slept, but you couldn't.

Stayed quiet and played with the seams of the mat you were resting on. You felt overstimulated, very restless and miserable. Almost as always, but this time it was for love.

Meg's soft snores made you smile.

The three had been through a lot up to that point. You had gotten used to it and feared what would happen next. You couldn't hide what you were feeling anymore, it was unfair to your sleep cycle.

Apollo could be unbearable, but he had a good heart. He learned consideration and to value effort. You had become hooked on that part of him and ended up falling in love.

You pressed the seams of the pillow together and let out a sigh.

— You don't sleep, either?

His voice behind you made your heart race. You cursed in your mind. The least you wanted was to talk to him.

— I was about to — You mumbled, a certain meanness could be heard in your voice. Apollo laughed softly, it almost seemed like he was humming a song.

— Sorry.

You adjusted the sheet.

— Alright.

—I'm sorry for spitting soda so many times in your face.— You struggled and wanted to prevent your heart from feeling anything because of his clumsy way of apologizing. But it was not like that.

—It's okay, Apollo. No hard feelings.

—Have I done something to make you upset with me all the time?

The question was suspended, and your hands began to sweat.

— What are you talking about? — You were thankful that you still turned your back on him. Any trace of drowsiness was left behind.

— I know I'm clumsy and very new to being mortal, but I've learned a lot. Partly thanks to you.—He paused and tapped your shoulder. You were a fool for him, so you turned around, coming face to face with him.

His blue eyes shone in the moonlight. He was funny, he looked beautiful underneath the opposite side of him.

Artemis might have gagged if she'd heard you say that.

His curls made like a second pillow for him, and you thought that was cute.

— Really? — Your voice barely came out in a thread.

Apollo nodded and gave you a sweet, slightly lazy smile. He pulled his hand out from under his blanket and caressed the frame of your face. The contact made you shudder, but you didn't move away.

You longed for his touch and be the reason for him to spit juice in others' faces.

You imitated his action. arms were crossed, while carefully caressed each other. Taking care of yourselves.

Apollo's heart warmed, and he felt a tug in his stomach.

Maybe you could have a chance, and that night had begun.

[inkedbydave]

I havnt read those books in the shadowhunter chronicles yet, what are your favorite things about them? (Im curious whether I should read them or not since I have such a big tbr already)

Oh maaan you're in for a ride

I have no idea which series in the Shadowhunter Universe you meant exactly but i'll start with my fav

Part I:

The Dark Artifices:

Do you ever feel like your soul needs a good mix of romantic pining, chaotic battles, and emotional devastation? The Dark Artifices is calling your name.

But seriously if you love stories that combine heart-pounding action, deep family bonds, and characters so real you’ll find yourself thinking about them long after you've finished the books? This is the series for you!

This series follows a family of Shadowhunters in sunny Los Angeles (yes, there are beaches AND demon fights) as they deal with forbidden love, ancient laws that make no sense, and plot twists that will leave you staring at the ceiling at 3 AM like: what just happened.

It’s got:

Two people who can’t be together because of reasons but have enough chemistry to destroy you.

A goofy warlock with more secrets than anyone is ready for.

A soft boy who paints and probably writes poetry but will absolutely murder you if you hurt his siblings and childhood friend.

A broody faerie loner who says “I work alone” but would probably die for his friends.

“I would die for my siblings, but also, they’re so annoying” energy.

Found-family dynamics that will have you texting your friends, “DO YOU SEE THIS?”

And, of course, the *painful but addictive* mix of love, loyalty, and chaos...

Enemies-to-lovers? No, wait—friends-to-lovers? Actually, it’s more like "reluctantly obsessed but too emotionally constipated to say it."

Three people staring dramatically at each other like ‘Is this polyamory or a REALLY complicated love triangle?

Characters who will make you scream, “JUST COMMUNICATE,” but you’ll love them anyway.

Enough family angst to fuel a therapy session for years.

A genius, autistic boy who solves mysteries but can’t solve the mystery of his own feelings

Main characters? Let’s just say there’s a parabatai bond that’s more complicated than your high school crush.

The plot? Fast-paced, full of betrayal, and packed with vicious fight scenes.

The family? Everything is fine...except when it’s not.

The romance? You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll probably scream and definitely ship things that should not be shipped. :)

Basically a murder mystery, faerie politics, and the most relatable struggle of all: Trying to keep your family alive and well while the world is falling apart.

Fair warning: you’ll never emotionally recover (and you’ll love every second).

part II:

The Mortal Instruments:

If you’re looking for a fast-paced urban fantasy series full of adventure, humor, and heart, you need to pick up The Mortal Instruments.

It’s got everything: shadowy secrets, epic battles, forbidden love, and enough twists and turns to keep you hooked from start to finish. Plus, the friendships and family bonds will hit you right in the feels.

If you like:

Hot people with emotional trauma

Family dynamics so messy even you would say "y’all need therapy"

Enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-allies-to-love(maybe) but make it *gay*

Bonus gay dads with actual functional communication (because someone has to balance the chaos)

A love triangle that's not technically a triangle, but don't worry, it'll still destroy your soul

If you do then babe, let me introduce you to The Mortal Instruments:

It’s like Twilight, but everyone fights better is hotter and has sarcasm set to ✨maximum damage✨.

You'll question the characters' life choices, then realize your own aren’t much better.

There’s an overachieving golden boy with a superiority complex who definitely Googles his own name but is secretly baby.

A girl who just wants to vibe and maybe not be surrounded by apocalypses, but alas.

A cinnamon roll nerd who says, “I don’t want to be here,” but somehow ends up saving the day every time.

And a guy who walks in like: "I’m too goth for this mess," but then adopts everyone and pays for dinner.

The Mortal Instruments is what happens when an ex fanfic writer starts a writing carrier and makes a book series: chaotic, emotional, weirdly self-aware, and packed with heart. Read it. Your inner emo kid will thank you.

Bonus:

The plot? Like Supernatural on speed.

The dialogue? Whedon-esque but with more sass per square inch.

The drama? Every fanfic writer wishes they wrote this level of ✨chaotic bisexual disaster energy✨.

If this sounds appealing, congratulations! This series was literally written for you.

part III:

The Infernal Devices:

The Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare is an absolute gem of a series, blending romance, adventure, and a touch of Victorian-era steampunk. If you love books with unforgettable characters, heart-wrenching love triangles (in the best way), and a beautifully atmospheric setting, this is the series for you.

It’s full of witty banter, emotional depth, and a story that stays with you long after you turn the last page. Trust me—there’s no ‘right’ team to root for, but you’ll love every moment of trying to decide.

The plot? Wild.

The romance? Devastating.

The side characters? Hot, chaotic, and probably more interesting than the main ones in most other books you’ve read.

Let’s not forget:

The Victorian Aesthetic™ (it’s giving Pinterest board).

A robot army that would make Skynet say, “You okay, bro?”

Poetry recitals that feel like life-or-death declarations.

And more tragic backstories than a Shakespearean play.

It's got:

a steampunk version of London where demons and shadowhunters roam the cobblestone streets, and your biggest problem isn’t the fog, but the ✨existential dread✨.

There’s a protagonist who just wanted to read books but accidentally became the center of everyone’s emotional drama (relatable queen).

A golden retriever boy who’s so perfect it physically hurts and is slowly dying.

And a sad boy™️ who looks like he stepped straight out of a My Chemical Romance album, only with a reading obsession.

A love triangle where instead of fighting, the two love interests are like, ‘Hey, what if we all just loved each other?’

Friendships so deep they’ll make you scream, “WHY CAN’T THE WORLD LET THEM BE HAPPY?”

A heroine who’s like, ‘Do I choose the guy who might secretly hate himself more than anyone else alive, or the literal angel in human form?’ (Spoiler: she chooses both. Iconic.)

Brooding boys who quote poetry in life-or-death situations (because of course they do).

*A love triangle where instead of fighting, the two love interests are like, ‘Hey, what if we all just loved each other?’

Start with Clockwork Angel and get ready to laugh, cry, and ugly sob over Will, Jem, and Tessa. But be warned: this series will RUIN you in the most beautiful way possible.

I won't write a summary of The Last Hours since i haven't finished it yet sorry babes, but hope you liked these *mwa*

[starlight-incarnate]

Ainur as Aesthetics: 

Melkor  —  eye-rolls, either sleep for the week or sleep is for the weak, great music taste, extremely passionate, smarter than you'd think, abandoned cities, alcohol, doesn't care about opinions, midnight hours, black coffee, hates humanity, cold hands, barely-there eyeliner, sharp smiles, lace-up boots, doesn't like to be told what to do, anger so blinding that you forget where and who you are, staring at the mirror until your features start to disappear, bad decisions, their words can hit you like a gunshot, the chilling sensation of metal on your skin, sharp claws ready to slash anyone they encounter, shattered antique mirrors, long dark scarves, dark and tousled hair, swallowing hard, a little broken.

Manwë  —  pale white snow, red cheeks, dried flowers that used to be the colour of the sun, quiet half-smiles, sunlight coming through an open window in the morning, hair tucked behind ears, gives the most thoughtful gifts, always neat, sparkly jewellery, beautiful poetry, comforting hugs, light footsteps, kisses on cheeks, a laugh like wind chimes, thunderstorms that you feel in your chest, intelligent eyes, collector of small objects, windswept hair, loves their friends with almost an unhealthy amount of loyalty, the colour of the sky at dusk, a crisp autumn breeze, soft hair, gold-flecked souls, the one who is there for you even when you think you don't need them, singing under their breath, smiles as the rain falls down and laughs as their hair lifts in the breeze.

Varda  —  cracked spines of leather-bound classics, sharing pieces of your soul with the world, starting revolutions with simple words, rosewater, cherry blossom petals floating through the wind, making promises, midnight conversations, writing into abysmal nothingness, stargazing, knowing smiles, doesn't open up easily, soft skin, crystals, a night where the clouds hide the moon, stories swirling in your mind, cursive letters, piercing eyes, whispers filled with secrets, studying things that do not exist, bright flashes of light outside your window, silk bedsheets, mysterious, handwritten notes, stays up so late it's early, plays quiet music for ambiance, fingertips stained with ink.

Ulmo  —  bodies full of stories, a will that ebbs and flows, lazy smiles, no real devotion to anything but existence itself, wordless lullabies, glassy blue eyes, moves with grace and rhythm, late night swims, blue tie dyed sheets, flowing outfits, the rough ocean at night, tall waves and bitter winds, salty hair, long limbs, kind of sad and tired but you've never see them cry, goes with the flow, quiet voice but loud meaning, walks with purpose, always looks their best, very kind and giving, seashells, loud laughter, perfect posture, habit of overthinking, bare feet, ice-cold lemonade, laying on the ground to soak up the sun, sand in the air, intricate designs, high ceilings, dim lights, bitten nails.

Aule  — confident, likes to perform, acts cool but is secretly emotional underneath, bold/dark colours, loves challenges, gets mad and forgives just as quickly, wouldn't change for anyone, laughing so loudly that strangers stare at you, running around like crazy person with your lover, compliments a stranger's crazy hair colour and feeling so good when they smile, unhealthy amounts of candy, fiery red sunsets, getting back up after being knocked down, they know that their friends are right behind them wherever they go, the burn in your lungs after chasing something you'll never be able to catch, always does their own thing.

Yavanna  —  warm days, soft smiles, making sure everyone is happy, walking barefoot, falling asleep in the sun, wishes everyone would be kinder, mugs of too-sweet tea, the person who screams don't kill the spider, adores animals, covered in freckles, one can never quite tell exactly what their eye colour is, pointing to the stars as they peek out from behind the clouds, large yawns early in the morning, a question left unanswered, honey, one hand catching another, tea that is swallowed for its warmth and not the taste, faded patterns on well-loved t-shirts, dew beading on flower petals, the imprints tight socks leave behind, wanderlust's yearning pull.

Orome  —  long hair, loves nature and animals, mist, sharp features, dirt under their fingernails, very down to earth, always willing to help, the strong friend, always has new, interesting facts to tell, tough as all hell, doesn't love easily but always loves deeply, walking barefoot everywhere, wildflowers threaded into messy braids, laying in the afternoon sun, big adventures, crisp air, deeply opinionated, climbing the tallest trees around, muddy feet, toothy smiles, accepting of everyone, follows their own path, stargazing off mountain cliffs, running through tall grass, folklore stories of fairies and dragons, a child at heart.

Nienna  —  honeyed and sulky dark summers, pomegranates, thunderstorms, magnolias, unkept promises, cinematic and shadowy, existing in a trance of melancholy, feels passionately though feigns detachment, slightly off-putting, their presence is announced but even if it wasn't you'd still know they were there, constantly underestimated, desperately afraid of silence, red-rimmed eyes, always appears serene, broken handwriting, short hair, foxes, dead leaves, large coats and scarves, numb fingers, old stone walls, steaming black tea, tears, gazing at a past lover down the hall, the smell before rain, old songs, nostalgia.

Námo  —  set features, eyes the color of dead souls, candles melting wax atop a piano, tragic smiles, an inexplicable sense of sharpness, hot tears, decaying cores, irreversible tornadoes, infectious whispers, heart is always pounding, doesn't like to be seen, nightmares, dark circles under their eyes that they can't hide, doesn't know their limits, slightly self-destructive, the silent one, bitter coffee, quiet observation, black eyeshadow, knows a bit of everything, no-nonsense, cold fingers and colder gazes, being misunderstood, sitting alone in a hard wood chair late at night, dead roses, losing a loved one too soon, moss covering broken gravestones, shattered glass, the taste of melancholy. 

Irmo  —  glows when they talk, dewy eyes, radiates with a blessing from the sun, gentle hands, dandelions, white clouds, the shy warmth of the first days of spring, afternoon naps, soft pillows, carefree laughter, fields of reeds, basking in the moonlight, flower crowns, sunbathing in creeks, gloriously alive, hours among the leaves, kind soul, often lost in their own thoughts, nights spent watching the river, dancing in a circle, holding hands, soft clothes, sun kissed skin, always listening to music, either works too hard or not at all, warm smiles, dancing in the rain, catching fireflies, wanting to do everything and nothing all at once, innocent hope, paper stars in glass jars, bittersweet goodbyes, looking for beauty in everything, water-coloured skies. 

Estë  —  dried orange garlands, snow on green tiled roofs, a bit in love, quills dipped in metallic ink, daydreaming, angelic singing, very fond of cuddling, homemade bread, constantly buying gifts for people, talkative, will hold your hand whenever and wherever, friends with almost everyone, convinced that sleeping at 10pm is late, strawberry ice cream, calming eyes, telling old stories, rosy cheeks, wanting the best for everyone, sunrises, loves nature, passionate about dreams, self-made flower crowns, will stay up late to comfort you, unexpected hugs from the back, not afraid to tell people they love them, humble.

Vairë  —  silver knitting needles, velvet skies filled with twinkling stars, red embroidery thread, hot black tea with spoonfuls of sugar, ballet shoes, hearts carved in birch bark, denim jackets, distant bells, foxgloves, rain moving over hills, cheek caresses, a bedroom left alone, walking in the mud and rain at dusk, resisting change, dead ends, unspoken feelings, finally coming home, looking up at the stars in hope of something more, simultaneously brimming with hope and lifeless, wiling the hours away, staring at the ceiling, wanting to write but not knowing the words, hiding from the world, afraid of the future, a sense of dread.

Vána  —  soft features, the smell of lavender, long walks in the sunshine, singing in a choir, sincere laughter, pastel colours, reading poetry aloud, baking cookies and sharing it with friends, kind gestures, painting on random objects, flower print clothes, lacy socks, handwritten love letters, forgiving people, graceful movements, writing poetry, roses, standing up for those who can't defend themselves, walks through nature, positivity, white lace, long hair, very graceful, always there for you, nostalgia of a time that you never knew, undeniably beautiful, the sweet breeze of a spring morning, slowing drifting off while laying on a green meadow, calm and collected, the best friend you could ask for.

Tulkas  —  loud laughter, hammocks, doesn't know when to stop, can't sleep, jacket with so many fixed holes it has been reduced to patchwork, flashing smiles, living on the edge, free spirit that will rip you to shreds if you dare to try and tame it, bloody knuckles, the moments of silence after a loud screaming match, riding into the sunset, dogs barking in the distance, the smell of fire on the air, running from person to person, unbridled chaos, aimless wandering, on the verge of greatness, call of the void, empty avenues, walking between worlds, wanting to hold the planets, melancholy nights, seeing things that aren't really there, wishing for more, overgrown unkempt gardens, bright colours against dark greens, tripping up on vines and logs, scraped knees.

Nessa  —  can go from laughing to serious fast if necessary, little bits of dark humour, staying up late, they do the little eyebrow thing when they get insulted, doodles, everybody else thinks they have friends but they don’t, red lipstick, lively, can be implosive, forgotten, mood swings like crazy, but very calm when they are happy, regrets decisions they made in the past, affectionately called a little brat, out until late in the afternoon of the next day, does not let anyone kill their vibe, seeing their escape in a person, the echo of your own steps on a tile floor, the sensation of being the only one left, a way that seems to have no end.

Eönwë  —  intimidating, has a soft side but only a few people see it, loves the forest, natural beauty, combat boots, deep thinker, false formality, a chord of music that breaks the silence, clouds rolling in, doesn't get angry but instead just fucking glares at you until you crumble, loves thunderstorms, mind like caverns, hands like stone, to hold or to hurt, heavy irises, earthquake tempers, unrequited love, soft voice, they know you whether you know them or not, lingering touches, people watching, the smell of old books and rain, faint music in the distance, won't let others break their friend's hearts, clearing their throat as a type of warning, moral righteousness, faith in humanity, towering buildings.

Mairon  —  sarcastic comments with a smile, glares that could kill, speaking in such a pretentious way that no one even understands you, obsession over studies, being a good person but getting corrupted, setting fire to the city, eyes like flames, heeled boots, soft aching hands buried in messy hair, ancient ruins, cups of tea gone cold, flawless eyeliner, impulsive decisions, false pretences, sickly sweet smiles, daunting realisations, masquerade masks, too stubborn to admit their regrets, waking up from a nightmare, hands cold to the bone, chest pains, the sharp cold of winter, rotting apples, dark circles under the eyes from not sleeping for days, hands stripped from over-washing.

So! Still trying to work out my masterlist and first few posts I have pre-written. In the meantime, please enjoy this messy aesthetic thingy.

[clydeboi]

Dear Past Self

Dear Past Self:

I would ask if you are doing good and all of that regular small talk bullshit, but this isn’t actually a letter—just a thought experiment. It’s not like I don’t know, right? After all, I was there.

Telling you to not be afraid feels a little hypocritical, because I am so terrified of the future. But the things you were scared of, have weakened. They’ve crumbled into storytale beasts, instead of the monstrous titans that kept you up at night. This is very helpful to me now.

I wish I could tell you Mom won’t be upset when you cut your hair or change your name, but she also takes every fact you tell her about your friends, the men at least, and makes a list of people from the best to worst for you to marry. She’ll tell you that you should try to have a kid with a certain person ASAP because they have good genes, but it’s a real pity that he’s not white. (Mom thinks marrying a white person would be marrying up.) But, safe to say, get used to disappointing Mom. She’ll tell you she wishes you did all this later when you already have kids, when your marriage is falling apart anyways, not now. Why would you do this when you’re young and attractive and in the best state to bag a man to breed you and give you money and a house? You will realize that Mom says “when” in the way you do when you talk about “when” you’ll kill yourself. You’ll get used to it.

I want to tell you that most of the impending sense of doom goes away on a very standard dose of meds.

I want to tell you that having your issues be common doesn’t mean that your experiences are invalid. It’s not a sign of your mediocrity. You are not weak for not being able to solve every problem. And on most days, you will win, even if it's still sometimes a struggle.

I want to tell you that you are braver and stronger and more powerful than you think you are, than you could possibly dream of, even if it feels like you are disappearing.

I want to say that there’s a happy ending to what happened to you when you were 16—that they’d get that fucker and throw him in jail or something. But the police will sit you down and start asking you if you really want to do this, seeing as he’s such a nice young man. Shit sucks but you’ll move on. The fear will stop. It still feels terribly unfair at times, and you will want to scream and cry, but it is what it is. It’s probably deeply unhealthy, but anger feels better than fear. At the very least, it lets you breathe.

You will have friends in the future, people that you genuinely like and care about. They’ll like and care for you. Some of them will be people you already know, and others will be ones you haven’t met.

I want you to know that I am so grateful that you choose to live, to be brave and face a new day every single night. And I want you to know that you will see and feel and experience so many great and wonderful things because of it. I want you to know that you get to go to college and skip lectures you shouldn’t skip. You get to stay up on weekends, drink cheap liquor, and laugh with friends. You get to see movies, have sex, watch the sunset, and feel your hands get cold when you run them through the snow. You get to fall in love, and write poetry, and travel. You get to be happy, to be sad, to be everything in between.

What I mean to say is that you will survive. Thank you for that. Sometimes I feel like I’m still learning how to live, but aren’t we all? I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something sometimes, but regardless, I have survived, and I will be here tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

As always,

Me

[bellafragolina]

screaming and crying and yelling (/pos) that ur requests r open again!!!! can u please write about adaman and his s/o with kids i have a burning need to dilfify this man it's unbearable for real

hehehe!! you're making me giggle like a kid! also, i can indeed! families make me so soft <3

���🍓🍓

Adaman is such a fun dad. He's the type that loves hauling his kids around. He's putting them on his shoulders, tossing them into the air, throwing them into the lake or into blush furniture. Your kids adore him and how his energy is capable of matching theirs. They beg, kids and dad included, to play with them, be a part of the grand action-packed story. The kids have inherited their father's Babydoll Eyes, so it's hard to say no

Adaman is also a cringe dad, though. He loves giving you affection, dipping you into a kiss or waxing silly poetry to you as he kisses up your arm, all while your kids gag or whine for affection of their own. He thinks it's funny to ignore them and up the ante until they're shouting at you both. Such a troublemaker, but his kids are no different, clued in to how huffy he gets if they take up all your attention for themselves. Sweet revenge is hard to take for Adaman

As clan leader, one of his kids will have to take up his mantel one day. It's expected his oldest will, so he tries to show them the ways of a clan leader, but if they're not interest, he'll offer the position to his next, and so on until one of them agree. If none of them agree, then. . . well shit. He'll look outside of the family for someone capable if he must, otherwise he's sheepishly asking you for another child. Maybe sixth time's the charm?

One of Adaman's favorite things is family cuddling. He wants everyone piled into bed together, squished into one another, chattering and laughing until people doze off. He's always the last to sleep, smiling down at his family. He kisses your forehead before he falls asleep himself, whispering his thanks to you for giving him such a blessed life. He values time, and you have given him something far more precious. He can't thank you enough

🍓🍓🍓

adaman is a sweet man, dumb of ass, heart of gold <3

~Renee

[sciapod]

Destruction. Chaos. Void.

A/N: A continuation of Freewriting Session 81 Paring: First person reader (nondescript gender) x Billy Lee /second person Warnings: Angst. Fluff if you squint and really want it. Billy Lee being toxic as ever 🥀🔥No smut! Read with caution though 🖤

Tags in the reblog.

Masterlist

—

21.46

I know you’re in pain and I can’t understand it. I can’t cope with it, not fully. It’s your burden to bear. As is mine and you see me cry and struggle. You see and sense and feel the pain I carry and bring with me. And again, as do I with yours. And it’s beautiful. And it’s painful to watch. But it also… it brings me such joy to see that you feel so much. That you are at one point in touch and at the other… completely disentangled from life and it’s ways and it’s pursuit to get you under. You are… superior in your suffering and I admire that about you.

I know it’s not healthy, I know it’s not good. But again, it’s an addiction. You have it too. It’s what attracts you to me, I believe. My meager determination yet eager dreams and sense of wonderment. My urge to push on and pull through and drag you along with me, screaming and shouting. Come with me, I beg. And you grab a bottle of whiskey and run.

You run before me, laughing, clutching my hand in yours, pulling at my arm and I almost trip and fall trying to keep up, until we both fall. One on top of the other and we laugh and catch our breath and breathe in the scent of the damp earth and grass beneath us. And the night air, we can almost smell that the sky is lit with diamonds. We roll around as we kiss eagerly; a hunger we’re never able to fully feed. We come to a stand-still, both of us on our backs, looking up. Surely enough, there they are. All the signs, written in the stars: We are each other’s and together we are our own ruin. And we drink to it and smile with the sweet and bitter taste in our mouths and on our lips. Our hearts thump and the hair rises on our skin. My stomach squirms, my gut clenches. So do my fists. And you take them in yours and you clench your hands around mine, so tight it’s almost painful.

“You make me want to write poetry,” you say.

“Please do and then read me some,” I reply.

“Never,” you say and turn your gaze to the sky.

“I know,” I say, but my thoughts linger. What if?

“Destruction. Chaos. Void.”

There was another word as well, but my simple mind didn’t understand, didn’t catch it amidst the surprise.

“There we go,” I say with a subtle smile.

“I wrote that earlier, while you were away. I wanted… I wanted it to be more beautiful. More meaningful.”

“I think there’s enough meaning there,” I try, hopefully comforting him. “At least,” I continue, “I am inspired.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, still not meeting my eye.

“It’s everything,” but the words are stuck on my tongue.

In the absence of words you turn to me. I could tell stories from the reflections I see in your eyes.

I think you’re about to kiss me, but then you rise. For a moment I imagine you’ll leave me there, cold and shaking on the ground. You stretch and drink from the bottle, then reach down.

“Come, my love.”

22.06

[jaskierswolf]

Ok folks! Here’s some demiromantic Jaskier/ Ace Geralt (feat. a prostitute or two)

This idea was by my ever lovely friend @slythnerd who gave me a bullet list fic and I offered to write it! This is smutty. Do not read if you are under 18. I’ve also never written anything like this before. So be kind? __________

What do you call a bard who’s never fallen in love?

A bad joke, perhaps. The answer is Jaskier. A bard famed for his romantic poetry and exploits and yet he’s never once felt that flutter in his heart strings when he’s looked at someone beautiful. So he keeps trying, over and over and over. He falls into beds of lovers all over the Continent and earns himself quite the reputation. He enjoys sex. He’s good at sex but dearest Melitele he yearns for more. He wants love.

He’s a poet and a romantic and he wants love.

He’s twenty six when he gives up on romantic love for himself. Love is a beautiful and enriching adventure but not one that he will ever experience.

Or so he thinks.

He’s twenty eight when his world is completely turned upside down. After travelling with Geralt for a decade he’s sure that the witcher cannot surprise him any further. That’s when the dreams start. He dreams of holding the witcher’s hand as they walk down the path, Roach trailing after them. He dreams of kissing Geralt goodbye whenever they part, be it for winter or just for the evening. He dreams of waking up each morning wrapped in a lover’s embrace. He dreams of Geralt saying those words.

And for once in his short life, those words don’t scare him. They don’t make him want to run away. They don’t feel him with dread and a sense of inadequacy. He dreams of Geralt saying those words… and he dreams of saying them back.

It’s a startling realisation and one that has him scrambling for his notebook and quill. He stays up all night scribbling away in his messy scrawl until his feelings are left staining the page.

He’s exhausted and giddy with love when he sees Geralt the next morning over breakfast but instead of joy he’s hit with icy dread. How could Geralt ever love him back? He’s been sleeping around, quite unashamedly for the last ten years and it’s gotten them both into more trouble than Geralt’s contracts.

Fuck.

So the smile falls from his face and he pretends that nothing has changed.

Everything has changed and Geralt fucking knows it.

After three days of tense silence every unspoken word explodes between them.

“Just fucking say something, Jaskier!” Geralt yells across the campfire.

“I can’t!” Jaskier buries his face in his hands. His heart aches and he wishes he could return to the numb nothingness of before but it’s too late. He loves his best friend and he loves him with all of his heart.

“Why not?” Geralt glowers, eyes ablaze in the light of the flames.

“Because I love you!” Jaskier screams and the words fill the forest like a battle cry. “I love you” He’s rambling now. “and I never thought I could so I just fucked around hoping that someone would be good enough in bed to make me fall in love with them. No one ever was and… and I felt so fucking broken!” He exclaims with a wide wave of his arms. “Broken, useless, unlovable sorry excuse for a bard! But oh no no, turns out it wasn’t a good fuck I needed.” He glares at Geralt, blaming the witcher for his sudden tidal wave of emotions. “turns out I just needed you. My best friend in the whole wide world but I never fucking saw it so I kept screwing around and now you hate me for it and that’s just shit because it turns out… it turns out that I love you. You bastard.”

He’s said too much. He claps his hands over his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

And he runs.

Or at least he tries to. Geralt’s hand in holding his wrist. “Don’t be. Don’t be sorry. Don’t go.” Geralt whispers in the dark of the night. His face lit up by the orange glow of the campfire. “Stay.”

“You. You don’t hate me?” Jaskier asks, his voice cracking pitifully.

Geralt shakes his head. “No. The opposite. I think.”

Jaskier frowns as he tries to decipher Geralt’s riddles. “The opposite? But. but Geralt?”

“I know.”

“Don’t fucking mess with me now, witcher.” Jaskier hisses, his heart is too fragile. He’s not used to any of this torment.

“I’m not.” Geralt sighs. “But I can’t. I don’t want.” He cuts himself off with a low groan and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Jaskier tilts his head. “You don’t want what, Geralt?”

“Sex. I know, the whole Continent knows, how much you love it.”

“Oh hey!” Jaskier protests but really Geralt does have a point. “Hang on, what about Yennefer, or Triss…. or what was her name? With the swords going missing?”

“Coral.”

Jaskier snaps his fingers. “You fucked her for weeks!”

Geralt shrugs. “It’s what they wanted.”

Alarm bells start ringing in Jaskier’s mind. It’s what they wanted, not Geralt. Geralt hadn’t wanted it. “Did they….”

Geralt smiles faintly with a shake of his head. “No. I said yes. It’s what they wanted, what’s expected of me.” His nose wrinkles. “Yen’s unicorn though. Never again.”

Jaskier whimpers as he embraces Geralt tightly. “I will never. I promise you. If you don’t want sex then we don’t have to have sex. Are kisses alright?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

Geralt frowns. “Umm.”

“No then.” Jaskier sighs. “Hugs?”

“Yeah.”  That’s a relief for Jaskier. He’s always needed physical touch and he’s been hugging Geralt for years. The thought that he could have been making his best friend uncomfortable makes him feel sick to his stomach. “What about you?” Geralt asks. “You love sex.”

Jaskier shrugs. “I have two hands.” He winks. “And I’ve heard mages sell all sorts of enchanted toys these days. I’ll manage.”

Geralt shakes his head. “No. I can’t take that from you.”

“But I love you. Do you know how much that means to me Geralt?” Jaskier says quietly, staring down at his feet, fingers pulling at his sleeves. “I never thought that I could.”

“What if you still have sex with others?” Geralt suggests and Jaskier just gapes at him.

“You. You mean that?”

“Yeah.”

“You wouldn’t be jealous?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him. “You love me, after fucking your way around the Continent. You love me.”

Jaskier licks his lips and nods. “I do. Fucking mother of… I love you.” The words still sound like heaven on his tongue. He would never get used to saying them even if he lived for a hundred years. “I love you.”

Geralt laughs softly and strokes Jaskier’s cheek with his thumb. “I love you too. I trust you. You’ll come back to me. You always have.”

Jaskier joins in with Geralt laughter. The witcher is right. Even before his epiphany Jaskier always returned to Geralt whether it’s after years apart, or merely after a quick romp in the hay. He would come back to Geralt until his dying breath.

So they settle into a new routine. Geralt enjoys sharing a bedroll or bed at the inn when they can but doesn’t begrudge Jaskier if he finds another partner for the night. He rarely stays with them after sex now though. He has his heart to return to and that’s better than any carnal delight. One evening after one such adventure with a particularly gorgeous prostitute, Geralt surprises them both.

“Did you have fun?” He murmurs into the nape of Jaskier’s neck as they snuggle close in the bed.

Jaskier frowns. Surely Geralt’s not asking about his sex life? “Yes?” He answers, sounding more than a little unsure.

There’s a soft press of lips to the back of his neck and he shudders. Geralt didn’t kiss him very often but it makes his heart sing every time. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“No. It was good.” He stammers, trying desperately to control the way his heart is thundering in his chest.

Geralt scoffs. “Good?”

“Very good.” He admits with a soft moan.

“Tell me.” Geralt all but growls.

“Umm well.” His mouth goes dry. He curses mentally, for a wordsmith all words appear to have left him. “She. She used her mouth?”

“Go on.”

Jaskier swallows, willing himself not to get hard. He really didn’t want to make this uncomfortable for Geralt but Geralt’s voice in his ear and the memories of the girl’s mouth on his cock. It’s all too much.

“Gods, Geralt it was…. she was so talented.” He sighs, sinking back into the memory. The room had smelt like sweat and sex and sin, but the bed was soft beneath his fingers as he gripped the sheets. “She swallowed my cock down in one go, oh and the moan. Geralt, it was sinful. You’ve never seen anyone’s lips so good as her’s did around my cock. Her mouth, fuck, so wet and warm.”

“And that did you do?” Geralt asks, a low rumble in his ear.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Jaskier lets out a moan at the memory. “I. I pulled her hair and the noises she made when I fucked her mouth. She took it all so well. She did this thing with her tongue…” Jaskier bites his lip. He’s hard and he just knows Geralt can smell his arousal. “I didn’t even have time to warn her before I came down her throat, and oh how she moaned. She swallowed every last drop.”

Jaskier feels Geralt’s teeth graze against his shoulder and he realises with a start that he can feel Geralt’s erection pressed up against his arse.

Oh.

“Geralt?” He asks, scared that he’ll shatter the moment and Geralt will push him away.

“Hmm?”

“Is. Is this alright?” His voice is breathy as he tries to contain his arousal. Geralt comfort is more important.

There’s a few seconds of tense silence before Geralt answers. “Yes. I like it.”

“Shall I continue?” Jaskier asks.

“Please.”

And so they fall into a routine. Jaskier fucks whoever takes his fancy and later that evening, if Geralt asks, he tells Geralt all about it, slowly becoming less shy with the details. He learns what Geralt enjoys most and what he doesn’t really care for. Sometimes he twists the story to make sure Geralt is getting what he needs out of it. Geralt comes in his own hand to Jaskier’s words and quite often Jaskier isn’t far behind.

It works for them and there’s a certain thrill to it all that Jaskier would have never expected when Geralt first told him he wasn’t interested in having sex. They explore the boundaries of this new part of their relationship. Jaskier learns he can be as filthy as he likes when Geralt asks him to tell him about his latest fuck but they can’t talk about any fantasies involving Geralt. Geralt had asked him to describe it one night and Jaskier agreed. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room and began to weave his tale of how he would worship Geralt’s cock but Geralt froze. Jaskier knew in an instant that something was wrong and his words died on his lips. They didn’t share a bed that night and they haven’t talk about Geralt in bed since.

The greatest surprise comes when Geralt hovers next to him outside the door of the brothel.

Jaskier turns to face his partner with a quirk of his eyebrow. Normally Geralt would have left him for the tavern by now but Geralt is just staring up at the door. Jaskier wonders when the last time Geralt visited a brothel was, back when he tried to fit in with what people expected of a man, probably.

“Geralt?” Jaskier places a hand on Geralt’s bicep.

“Hmm?”

“Did.” Jaskier cuts himself off and bites the inside of his cheek. He really hopes that he isn’t reading this wrong. He can’t lose Geralt, not now. “Did you want to come in?”

Geralt’s hair flies round as he turns to face Jaskier. “What?”

“You could watch?” Jaskier suggests, trying to keep his voice light. “Or not?” He adds with a shrug.

Geralt makes a choking noise and he’s blushing brighter than Jaskier has ever seen him blush before. “You don’t want that.” He mumbled.

Jaskier wants to laugh in sheer astonishment but he doesn’t. He knows laughing will just make Geralt run from him. “Geralt, dear heart, I would love that!”

Geralt glares at him as if he’s grown a second head but Jaskier can’t let go of the idea now. It’s seared into his mind. The thought of Geralt… watching him.

“Fuck.” He moans and he’s already getting hard.

Geralt’s nose flares and Jaskier knows he’s been caught out. “You… you’re aroused?”

“Yes. Well. Thank you, dearest.” Jaskier mumbles. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You don’t think I’m a pervert?” Geralt’s brow furrows and Jaskier reaches up to try and smooth away the wrinkles.

“No.” He insists. “I want you to watch, as long as you’re comfortable.”

Geralt swallows and looks back at the brothel as if he were preparing to go into battle. “Alright.”

Geralt strides inside and Jaskier is left on the street staring after him until his brain catches up and he scurries after Geralt. It doesn’t take long to persuade the owner to let them share a girl, once they assure her that Geralt will only be watching. Jaskier wants to fight that. If he and Geralt want to share a prostitute and the girl is willing then why shouldn’t they? Just because Geralt is a witcher.

The bloody cheek of it.

But Geralt’s hand is on his back, guiding him upstairs, before he can snap and they’re thrown out of the establishment.

The girl’s name is Anna and Jaskier thinks she’s fucking gorgeous. Her curves are soft where Geralt is all muscle and her dark hair falls down to waist in waves. She winks at them both as they shuffle awkwardly into the room.

“I’ve been told you’re watching, witcher.” She says with one hand on her hips.

Geralt nods stiffly and settles into a chair in the corner of the room as she shuts the door.

“He likes to watch.” Jaskier explains with a wink of his own as she takes him by the hand and leads him to the bed. “And who I am to deny him the pleasure?”

“Jask.” Geralt warns in a low voice.

“What?” He asks, feigning innocence.

“Maybe you should put that mouth of yours to good use, bard.” Geralt suggests with a smirk.

Jaskier blinks, his cock achingly hard in his trousers, and he lets out a soft groan. “I thought you were just watching, witcher!”

Anna laughs and sits on the bed, her legs spread wide. Jaskier’s eyes go wide and he turns back to face Geralt with a tilt of his head. Geralt nods and Jaskier crawls onto the bed, ready to devour the offering in front of him. It’s not often that whores will so boldly put their own pleasure first but Jaskier adores it. He nuzzles at the soft wet folds, relishing in the feel of her warm thighs under his fingers. She lets out a moan as he flicks his tongue out against her clit. He glances up at her, her face with a smirk. She’s flushed already and her eyes are dark with hunger.

“Pull his hair.” Geralt says in a low growl.

She does. Her fingers scrape against his scalp before tugging at his hair, pulling his head back. He feels like he’s on fire and he’s dizzy with lust, a moan escapes his lips and she pushes his head back between her legs. She tastes divine and his head spins as he elicits sinful gasps and curses from her lips and his tongue delves inside her. He hums as he shifts his weight on the bed, trying to get a better angle. His cock drags across the mattress and he whines. He needs the friction. He needs….

She’s tugs again at his hair and he looks up, feeling heady as he wipes his lips.

“Take his clothes off.” Geralt says.

Jaskier blinks and looks over to his partner, crawling off the bed so they can remove his clothes without fuss. Geralt’s hand is wrapped around his cock and he’s leisurely stroking it, as if he has all the time in the world. Jaskier can’t help but watch the slow movements of Geralt’s hand, the way the muscles in his arms flex with every stroke. He swallows as Anna turns his face back so he’s facing her. Her fingers are nimble as she unlaces his trousers and he goes to pull his doublet off.

“Let her.” Geralt orders. “You deserve to be unwrapped, to be savoured.”

Jaskier whimpers but lets his hands drop to his sides. Anna smirks and her lips brush against his neck and gods his legs feel weak underneath him as she slowly removes his doublet, followed by his shirt. She kneels in front of him as she pulls his trousers and underclothes down in one swoop. Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses the tip of his cock. He looks over to Geralt who raises an eyebrow.

“Can she?” He asks, not proud of the way his voice cracks but he’s so overwhelmed with the desire that’s burning through his veins.

Geralt nods. “Yes.” His voice is a low growl that makes Jaskier’s breath hitch. “But don’t let him come in your mouth.”

Jaskier groans as he eyes flutter shut. “Fuck.”

He’d forgotten he’d told Geralt that. He likes to come inside his partner. There’s just something so impersonal about spilling into their mouth and he’s not as young as he used to be. It takes him longer these days to get hard again.

She works him over with her mouth, and it’s not long before he’s on the brink of a soul shattering orgasm. Geralt tells her exactly how much teeth to use when pulling off his cock, and he knows that his balls get too sensitive to touch. She swirls her tongue just like Geralt suggest and Jaskier gasps wordlessly before her lips pull off his cock with a pop. He groans in frustration.

“You can fuck her now, Jask.”

Oh gods it’s all too much and it’s perfect. They should have done this months ago. She guides him back towards the bed, tugging him by the hand and he gladly follows, his eyes tearing away from Geralt.

It’s heaven as he sinks into the warmth of her body. She gasps underneath him as she grips the sheets. Jaskier loves to hear the sounds of his lovers but he hates it when it sounds fake. He likes it to be genuine and Geralt knows this. Anna doesn’t whine and scream the way most whores do, on Geralt’s request. Every sound that escapes her pretty red lips is like music to his ears, short gasps as he kisses her neck or long drawn out moans when pulls out inch by inch before slamming back until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Fuck it feels so good.” He moans as he feels his orgasm flying towards him. “Feels so good.”

“That’s it darling.” She gasps. “I’m almost there!”

It’s the pet name that does it. Another one of Geralt’s suggestions.

Sparks cloud his vision and he lets out a loud moan as he spills into her. She cries out and her teeth bite down on his neck as she follows him over the edge.

“Fuck.” He hears Geralt’s grunt from the corner of the room.

Jaskier wants to laugh, giddy from the sex. “Fuck.” He agrees.

They don’t stay the night at the brothel but Anna lets him kiss her goodbye. It’s not long before they are curled up together on a bedroll in the forest, the stars shining high above them.

“Soooo….” Jaskier drawls as he draws a slow pattern on Geralt’s chest. They are both fully clothed now but they enjoy the intimacy of the snuggling and it always makes Jaskier feel like he’s on top of the world after an evening of sexual delights.

“Hmm?”

“The brothel?” Jaskier asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“We’re so doing that again right?”

Geralt laughs and presses a kiss to his hair. “Yes.” _______

Tag list: @electricrituals @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @sweetdreamingpeach @moonysourenza @00qtee

[totallytododeku]

☁ studying together ( x reader hc's) ☁

characters: midoriya, bakugou, todoroki, kirishima, yaoyorozu, uraraka, + ashido

genre: fluff  <33

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

I. Midoriya 🌳🍀🌻

this poor boy is so excited to be spending time with you

but he will not take his nose out of his textbook

he can't help it

he's so happy to be in the hero course he takes his schoolwork a little too seriously

however, you can use this to your advantage ;)

normally you're almost as invested in his journey to becoming the next Symbol of Peace and achieving his dream as he is

and you would never dream of doing anything that could jeopardize it

So you were silently bouncing off the walls with glee when you realized he was impervious to distractions when it came to studying

literally anything is fair game

which is why studying with him is your new favorite time of day

pet his hair

kiss his cheeks

climb into his lap

pat his head

hold his non-dominant hand

hug him from behind his chair

rest your head on his shoulder and take a nap

do whatever you want

you can basically do anything to him while he's studying without having to worry about distracting him

he will blush a little bit of you kiss him but but you think it's adorable

lol turn on whatever tv or music you want

but only if you're done with your work!!

hes very adamant that you keep up with your work as best you can do you can graduate side by side and be pro heroes together someday

K. Bakugou 💣💥 📢

he would totally be the one to invite you to study and he would probably want to study in his dorm

it's super quiet and nobody will bother you guys because they know it's that spiky gremlin's room

overall his room just has a really relaxing atmosphere

you love being near him as much as possible

and he's much more affectionate in the comfort of his dorm room

but that doesn't mean he's gonna go easy on u ;-;

he still has his gruff attitude and will make sure you're studying every day

or else he will call u baka and force you to sit down and study until you know all your material

he's actually a great tutor tho

he writes out all the work for each problem and explains them thoroughly

all while holding in you in his arms while you sit in his lap

sometimes you can convince him to play a game with you where every time you get an answer right he gives you a kiss

but you whine when you get one wrong and he won't kiss you

he huffs before giving you a kiss while still trying to look annoyed

stupid girl he mutters

but he pulls you a bit closer to him to hide his blush and moves on to the next problem despite your giggles

S. Todoroki ❄🔥🍜

he doesn't really need to study but he doesn't know how to just .. relax

like he doesn't know how to not do what his dad tells him to do

and his dad wants him to study

it's just easier for Todoroki to do what his dad wants than to rebel

that is, it was

Until he met you and the dekusquad

obviously everyone cares about their homework and wants to graduate well and go Plus Ultra!

but study sessions with Todoroki usually end up just being you guys trying to help him be less hard on himself while you have him as a captive audience

he doesn't really mind, though, especially when it's just you two

the intimacy of studying together in comfortable silence and just

enjoying each other's company

makes his heart go (*￣∇￣*)

like i said he doesn't really need to study so he'll just end up helping you review material

please just ... hold his hand :)

after you're done studying for the day just pull him into a hug and over to your bed

he needs a nap

you feel warm fuzzies inside from how caring he's been to sit with you while you finished your homework and bring you warm tea

you don't even think you just

Time for cuddles :3

it becomes your daily ritual to study together and then cuddle

he always falls asleep in your arms with a small smile

E. Kirishima 🗿🗿🗿

(HAHAHSHNSJ THE 🗿 EMOJI OMG I'M LITERALLY SO FUNNY LOL I'M CRYING)

"Okay, Y/N, let's study hard and do our homework like men!" *fist-pumping the air and grinning like an idiot*

"...what's so funny? "

he doesn't care if you're not a man it's his trademark

he likes to study at his desk because he says it's "important to stay focused and work diligently"

generally he is the least focused person, ever. besides kaminari.

however, he's so energetic and enthusiastic that once you sit down and start studying he'll be able to keep your motivation up until you've finished all your homework

GREAT at studying for tests and quizzes (in theory)

he will never give up

like I said he could keep studying for hours once he sets his mind to it

So you have to compromise and get him to study in short bursts throughout the day to help him have a better chance of remembering anything ;-;

his memory is not great but it's kinda cute

you, being the smart cookie that u are, realized the best way to help him memorize things was to study with flashcards frequently throughout the weekend while doing other activities

so you plan to hang out together and do something fun every week while having your study material on index cards in your back pockets

it's a literal study date.

a weekly date out to the mall or the park or a little coffee shop but with math trivia thrown in randomly throughout the afternoon!! :D

Of course he was ready to turn it into a game he's a literal puppy

he just wants to show you you can be proud of him

you giggle lightly when you hear him say that and let him know that you'll always be proud of him, no matter what

M. Yaoyorozu 👑🏆☕

studyblr wants what u have.

studying in momo's room makes you feel like a Victorian young lady studying moral philosophy, writing poetry about the mourning doves outside the garden window, and waiting for her husband to come home from sailing the seven seas

it's your Belle moment where she's in the royal library except it's every day

stacks of beautiful, old books

the smell of the crisp, white pages

soft classical music floating through the air

the window cracked open slightly

and you are the luckiest student in all of UA because you get to study with the smartest girl in the whole school

she's also gorgeous and sweet and perfect which def doesn't hurt

u know that joke that ur teacher can spend a year explaining something and u never understand but then a random indian guy on YouTube explains it in 2 minutes and you finally get it

she is that random indian guy

you will never struggle with a single concept after you start studying with her

And she's so proud of you for every little question you answer correctly

(even thought she's the one that explained it all so well in the first place)

it's the definition of comfortable silence

she insists that neither of you study too hard and that you take lots of breaks to stretch

she says its to help you stay concentrated but really she just wants to feel your gentle hands on her shoulders as you massage out the knots

you take turns kneading the tension out of each other's shoulders

you feel a pleasant tingle down your spine at the feeling of her soft breath on the back of your neck

She pulls away and you share awkward smiles, neither of you realizing the other one of blushing, too

(((*≧艸≦)ﾌﾟﾌﾟｯ

O. Uraraka 🌜🚀🙏

ur actually super productive study buddies

Like u started studying together and then all of a sudden you were almost at the top of your class

she's just so sweet that being with her gives you the energy you need to write that essay all in one sitting instead of procrastinating like a normal person

Shows up at your dorm with snacks and drinks to keep your energy up!! :D

even though she's still going to end up getting sleepy anyway later in the afternoon

You get most of your studying done at the beginning of your study date so it's not really a problem

you know she doesn't have a lot of money to be throwing around so you pay for dinner every night

It's usually takeout but sometimes you guys make your own dinner for fun!

it always turns out almost inedible and burned because neither of you were paying attention to the stove

don't let baku see it or he'll start screaming about how you need to try your best at everything so he can beat you fair and square and that includes cooking too

neither you nor uraraka can handle spicey food so you never eat what Bakugou cooks for the class

You grab a few bags of chips and some sushi and shut yourselves in your dorm to pull an all-nighter study session about once a month

it should make you tired but, again, studying with her is so enjoyable that you don't mind

u two enjoy each others company in studying so much that you sometimes read ahead in your textbooks just to be able to study more

overall, hanging out with her is just lighthearted and filled with giggles

and you just so happen to get all your homework done along the way

M. Ashido 👾👽🚿

"studying" with her is so much fun

Hanging out with Mina in general is so much fun

it's impossible not to smile when she's around so even if you have a huge exam tomorrow, all your worries fade away just from being with her

She is pretty distracting in cases where you actually wanted to get stuff done

But you don't care

Change of plans

you're doing mani pedi's with Mina

No more studying

it's not as bad as it sounds though

You're not slacking off or anything and you can still keep your grades up with help from your other friends like Momo and Iida

you guys are just goofing off in the privacy of your dorm room when you should be studying

"It's not a crime to be young, Y/ N ;)"

she's just so energetic and happy like a little pink ball of sunshine

you can't help but laugh at her silliness and cute antics after a long day of classes

she makes your heart beat faster like you're on a roller coaster but without the nerves

somehow you feel giddy and comfortable in her presence at the same time

it doesn't matter what you two are doing, you always have fun

make sure she goes to bed on time, though, or she might end up baking a seven-tier cake at 3 am and Bakugou will scream at you for waking him up

don't feed her after midnight lmao

i started writing this after i almost died of boredom in my online calc class. my senioritis is already kicking in and it's still September (｡-ω-)  

[the-alice-of-hearts]

Kids Again Ch 3

<previous< first >Next>

Ch 3: ‘Cause sugar, no, she don't got time for that

Jason loved being Robin, but only a little more than he hated it.

The freedom, the ability to help people, having a brother to look up to and bond with...

But that all came hand in hand with the pressure to be good enough, knowing that no matter how many people he helped there were still children dying on these streets, training day in and out to try to prove to Bruce that he could live up to Dick’s legacy.

So he kept fighting

Kept running

Kept trying

Kept running out of time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason trained and fought, and he ran. Always running, always half a step ahead of the bad guys, but two steps behind Dick. He couldn’t measure up. Never with the Boy Wonder.

So he got reckless. Went headfirst into situations, stopped trying to think 12 steps ahead. A person would talk just as fast if he broke a few bones, and if he could get that information faster then maybe he could save someone.

He tried to ignore the worry in Alfred’s eyes when he came in needing stitches for the fourth time that week. Avoided Dick’s questions on how he got his information to head off an arms deal. Hid his pain from Bruce when he checked in on him during debriefs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason threw his mask in the corner. He had just finished briefing Bruce on his night. Having waited for him to finally leave the cave, he limped over to the med bay. He heard the door to the house open again, assuming it was Alfred coming down he continued to dress his wounds.

“I didn’t understand what Alfred meant when he told me to make sure you hadn’t pulled your stitches. I guess I do now.”

Jason jerked up from the table, “Shit!” he grabbed his side where he had, indeed, torn his stitches.

“Jason, what happened?” Bruce came closer picking up the stitch kit. “When did you get this?” he sat down on the stool in front of him. Pulling Jason’s hand away to see the wound.

Jason grimaced when Bruce started to snip the broken stitches. Keeping silent except for a  couple of moments of major pain.

Bruce continued to clean out the wound and get ready to stitch it up again, “I’ll just keep asking, what happened? When did you get this?”

Jason kept his head down, watching Bruce’s hands while he stitched him up. The slight pull at his skin when the needle went through was welcome as he could feign being in pain to avoid talking.

“Jason, I know you gave yourself a local. I’m not stupid and you’re not that slick.” He finished the stitches and glared down at him, “Now Talk.”

Jason took a deep breath as Bruce started to put antibiotic cream on the wound and a new sterile dressing, “What’s there to say, Bruce?” Jason jumped off the table the moment Bruce was done wrapping the wound, “I ran in head first like I always do? Let my emotions get the best of me? Didn’t think anything through and almost got myself killed?” He was finally letting it all out, “What answer are you looking for? What answer would prove to you that I didn’t cause this? I took a hit because I could take it, the little girl it was meant for couldn’t.” Jason shoved past Bruce to walk up the stairs to the manor, looking back for a second he added on, “This isn’t my fault. Maybe when you send your child soldiers out you should give them better protection.”

When he got to his room he flopped into bed and screamed into the pillow. Something that he had picked up from Marinette, did actually help him to feel better. He grabbed the red notebook and started writing. Telling her about what happened, writing it out really helped. When he finished he grabbed a book from his nightstand and started to lose himself in the pages.

A knock startled him. He wasn’t sure how long it had been but he still wasn’t ready to talk to anyone.

“Jason, I know you’re not asleep. You don’t have to come out, but you do have to listen. I was wrong to put this on you.” Jason looked up with a little hope when Bruce said that, only for it to be crushed by his next words. “Letting you be Robin was too much. You weren’t ready, I see that now. I’m benching you. You need to take time to figure yourself out before coming back out there. Just, talk to me about it tomorrow okay?”

Bruce wasn’t even at the end of the hall by the time Jason had grabbed his emergency backpack. It had his extra suit in it, food for a few weeks, and all the cash he had stashed away. He knew that this would happen one day, but he was prepared. He would figure it all out for himself, maybe take Dick up on his offer to stay with him. He looked around and grabbed a novel from his shelf tucking it into the bag next to the extra pens he kept there. He made sure his notebook was in his pocket and then he opened the window. His room was on the third story, but he had made worse climbs before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was woken up by a loud knock at his door. He rubbed his eyes and made sure none of his gear was in eyeshot before opening the door to see who was out there. “Jay-bird?”

Jason smiled as he let him into the apartment, “Good to see you, Dick. I’m not staying long, I just need you to hold onto this for me.”

Dick looked at him confused, “wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?”

Jason shrugged a little, “I’m not entirely sure. I’m looking for someone. Once I find her I’ll be back.” Jason stood by the table putting a letter into an envelope. He was in the middle of sealing the envelope when Dick grabbed his shoulder.

“What’s going on, Little Wing? You can tell me.” Dick was pleading with him, “I thought you were waiting to go find Marinette?”

“I’m not looking for her, yet. But since I don’t know when I’ll be back I need you to hold onto this for me. If she makes it to Gotham before me, give her this. Tell her I’m still coming for her.”

Before Dick could stop him Jason was out the door. He looked at the letter in his hands, he had written For my Soulmate; Marinette on the front of it. ‘I guess I’ll look after this for you Jay. Be safe.’ He picked up his phone to call Bruce. They had both been out all week looking for Jason, at least now they knew he was alive. ‘For now’ a stray thought chimed in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So maybe going on this mission alone was, indeed, a rash decision. Jason laughed at the irony of it all. Trying to prove he wasn’t reckless was what got him into this.

“Oh? Is the birdy finally seeing the humor in this?” Joker laughed in Jason’s face. He had just finished turning on a camera and now he was holding the crowbar over him again. Swinging quickly he opened a long gash across Jason’s chest.

Screaming in pain Jason could only think one thing, ‘please let me pass out, please let me pass out, she doesn’t deserve to see this, please whatever deity might be listening let me pass out!’

He didn’t pass out. He wouldn’t know it until many years later, but Joker had pumped enough adrenaline into his system to keep him awake until the blood loss would make him pass out. When he finally did it was like a relief honestly. Until the sound of voices in his head woke him up.

‘Jaybird! Please tell me you’re there! Little wing I’m trying to get there faster, but you have to wake up. There’s a bomb, you have to get up. Jay, you have to get up now! You have to go to the door.’

‘Jason, please! Please wake up. We need you, we need you to wake up. I need you!’

‘You don’t know me, but please live for us. We all need to meet you one day.’

‘Jason you have to get to the door.’

‘Jay, wake up!’

With all the yelling in his head, Jay was finally able to wake up and drag himself toward the door on the other side of the building. The timer on the bomb was running out. He reached up to grab the handle but found it was locked. He started to cry, seeing his end right in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never got to love you Marinette.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bomb went off, Dick knew the second it happened. For the final moments of Jason’s life, it was like the soulbond was wide open. All four of them were connected in a way that he had never even heard of happening. When the bomb went off it was like having a piece of himself torn away from him. He collapsed to the ground in the plane, Bruce watching him fall to pieces. They had failed him. His soulmate was dead. His little brother was dead. He could feel the pain of his Soulmate, but that didn’t compare to the heart-wrenching grief that was overtaking their final puzzle piece. He could feel her soul shattered into tiny pieces.

Bruce landed by the warehouse that Dick knew Jason was in. Of all the ways to find out who one of your platonic soulmates was, this was the worst. They recovered his body, carefully loading him into the plane. Dick found his notebook and put it in a pocket next to his own. He knew that Jason hadn’t shown anyone but him what was in there, and he wasn’t going to betray his brother’s trust. Then he held him, held the body of his little brother. The boy who tried to live up to unrealistic expectations, the kid who beat him at video games and then flipped into a wall the same night. Dick vowed to one day find Jason’s Soulmate. He needed to tell her about Jason, about how brave he was, about how he helped kids and read old poetry. He wanted to tell her all the good things because he knew she already knew the bad ones. He needed to wrap her into his arms and tell her all the good parts.

None of them in the bond would ever truly heal, but it would be better to try to pick up the pieces together than apart.

He had kept Jason’s notebook on his bookshelf in his apartment, right next to the books Jason had forgotten in his apartment each time he visited. Only a few months later, Dick was getting ready to travel to Paris, to find the remaining parts of his soulbond, when he got the news. Alfred called to tell him, there was an official travel ban on Paris. No heroes, vigilante or not, allowed into the city. Diana was enforcing it, so it would be difficult if not impossible to get past her.

[flowercrown-bard]

A new us will begin (interlude)

the loveliest @thingr2 asked for Dandy’s pov of what happens between chapter eight and nine (thanks for letting me procrastinate a little longer by writing things like this instead ;) )

I’m not sure if there are spoilers for the rest of the fic in this and this is unedited

word count: 4k

Tw: mention of past major character death, blood

„We have to turn back!“ Dandy shouted. One cry in a row of a hundred others. The whole ride through he had pleaded, cried, begged for Mika to just turn around. “Geralt is still back there. Mika, please!”

His pleas fell on death ears. Or perhaps Mika did answer. At first, they had tried to sooth Dandy, reassuring them with soft words like a mother would a child when the child was scared of a monster. But Dandy wasn’t a child anymore. And not all monsters were figments of children’s imagination. Some children died fleeing monsters. Some mothers did too.

And yet Mika kept fleeing. They all did. Whether they were still trying to calm Dandy or if they had given up by now, Dandy wouldn’t be able to tell. His blood rushed too loudly in his ears and the hoof drums sounded like thunder; the merciless rhythm of a battle song, getting louder with each beat that carried him further from Geralt, the horse’s panting creating the skincrawling harmonies.

And above all was Dandy’s own voice, a terrible solo in dissonance with the rest of the music.

“Geralt!” There were no more words left. Dandy had written a play. In his most private moments, he had even tried his hand at poetry. His words had brought audience members to tears and made his friends laugh. Now, though there was nothing. No poetry, no artful prose. Just the name of the man who might never say Dandy’s name again.

Dandy wished he could do more than scream that name. He wished he could jump off the horse, run back and safe Geralt from whatever he was facing, all alone and not knowing if the troupe would come back for him. They needed to come back for him!

But Dandy might as well have been chained to the horse. Even if he somehow got down to feel solid ground beneath his feet, he would have no way of telling where he was or where he should be going. All he could do was cling onto Mika’s arms around him and pray he didn’t fall off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity – even a couple of minutes could have been too long, could have been enough to let Geralt die all alone – he felt the horse slow beneath him. He was jostled worse than before when Roach went from a gallop to a trod, until eventually, her movements got smoother and halted completely.

There was clanging and muttered words of relief as the others dismounted. Dandy was forced to remain on top of Roach until someone tapped his leg and told him to slowly dismount.

Strong arms caught him, guiding him down until his feet reached the ground. It wasn’t the arms he had secretly hoped he would feel. Dandy knew it was impossible, but a foolish part of him had hoped that Geralt had somehow seen reason, that he had followed them and was safe with them now.

But the arms holding them felt different. The voice reassuring him that he was fine wasn’t deep or raspy enough. It was loving, but it lacked that special undertone that always tinged Geralt’s voice and made Dandy’s heart beat faster.

Now, his heart only raced with fear.

“Geralt.” His voice was but a breath. “Where is he?”

The silence that followed was answer enough. No one knew. No one had dared slow down their flight enough to see if Geralt needed help.

“He’s a witcher,” the person holding him finally said. “He’ll be fine. He came with us to protect us and that’s what he’s doing.”

“No he didn’t!” Dandy was taken aback himself by the unexpected sharpness of his voice. “He didn’t. He is with us, because I asked him to come. I am the reason why he’s in danger, because I was too selfish to leave without at least trying to keep him close. And now he might die-“ His voice cracked and his eyes began to burn. “And he will be all alone. I can’t let him be alone! I have to go back, I have to be with him-“

“Dandy!” The hands holding his upper arms tightened and the sharp tone brought his spiralling thoughts to a grinding halt. “You have to calm down. We won’t just abandon Geralt. He’s one of us. You know we don’t just abandon family.”

Dumbly Dandy nodded. The gesture felt empty, like a mask he was putting on, but there was a familiarity to it. Remembering how to react with his expressions and gestures was just enough of a distraction to stop him from going back to crashing into the abyss of terror and anger.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know. But he’s – “

“Nadine is getting help,” the person reassured him. “We’re outside a town. Nadine is talking to the alderman as we speak. All we can do is wait now for help to arrive.”

Waiting. Again. It seemed that was all Dandy could do. In his mind, he spun an impossible future, in which he swung himself onto Roach, kidnapped her and rode off to find Geralt. He found himself mentally going through all kinds of stiches and potions that might help a wounded witcher. He already dreamed about dragging Geralt back to an inn room and taking care of him until he could be sure Geralt would survive.

Rationally, he knew that those fantasies were nothing more than that: Cruel dreams that taunted him with how unachievable they were. Dandy couldn’t climb on top of a horse again. All he could do now was pull away from the person holding him - just enough to take a few steps, but still touching them for orientation- and clinging to Roach’s neck instead, her warm breath huffing against his neck and her hooves stomping nervously. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be so close to an unsettled horse, but for some reason, being near Roach was a bigger comfort than listening to his troupe’s words as they tried to comfort him. Geralt always smelled of Roach. Being so close to her, he could nearly imagine what it would smell like, if Roach’s scent was mixed with the smoke of a campfire and the heavy scent of pines.

Imaginings. That was all Dandy had now, wasn’t it? Imagining Geralt was alight. Imagining Dandy could somehow help him.

No one in their right mind would let Dandy sew up a wound and he didn’t even know if witchers truly took potions. Geralt had never talked about any such thing and neither had Dandy’s tutor ever mentioned potions – and she had made sure that he knew plenty of witchers, Geralt of Rivia especially. She would have told him if Geralt needed potions, wouldn’t she?

But Dandy could do nothing. His whole being was filled with one single thought, one unbending need: To get back to Geralt. To be with him. To make sure he wasn’t alone.

Geralt didn’t deserve to live alone. He didn’t deserve to die alone either.

By the time voices drew nearer and people were shouting about getting gallons of water onto a wagon, Dandy almost felt numb, his fantasies about how life could be no longer sustaining him.

It was only when he heard the squeaking of too slow wagons rolling away, when he snapped back to full alertness.

“Nadine!” he shouted without thinking. He had no way of knowing if she was anywhere close enough to be able to hear him, but she was probably leading the helpful townsfolk. And she would never ignore one of her family if they needed her. She hadn’t ignored him when he had still been a boy, barely deserving to be called a young man, insecure and uncertain if he’d ever be able to find his own footing. Back then, she hadn’t hesitated to give him a place in her family and not once had she let him down when he had needed her. “Nadine, take me with you! I need to go back to him!”

Painfully tense seconds passed in which no one responded. The shuffling, squeaking, shouting continued and Dandy was left as he was, feeling like he was alone standing on a rock in the sea while a storm raged around him. He couldn’t tell when the first wave was going to crash into him and drag him under.

Heavy steps came closer and a hand tugged at his sleeves. “It’s me, Kara.”

Dandy tensed. “Kara, please –“

She didn’t let him finish. “Mika’s helping getting the water on the wagons and Nadine is making sure the rest are unharmed.”

“I can help. I swear I’m not useless. I can help with Geralt –“

“Doesn’t matter,” Kara said firmly. “I don’t care if you’re useless or the most useful person in the world. Geralt is important to you and you’re important to all of us, so I’ll be damned if I don’t take you with me.”

The pressure that had steadily been building behind Dandy’s eyes finally became too much. Tears welled over, rolling down his cheeks as his shoulders shook with sobs. There had been no wave crashing into him. Dandy had been the one to crash. Now, he would drag himself back on land and he would make sure Geralt would emerge from the sea-tossed storm with him.

He let Kara hoist him on top of Roach again and felt her saddle up behind him. She called out to someone else – Jasof, Iva, Marin. The stagehands; the strongest of the troupe.

Dandy assumed they were riding with them, as Kara clucked her tongue and spurned Roach on once more.

Impossibly, the way back felt even longer than it had taken them to get to the town. But this time, Dandy could tell they were getting close, even before the horses slowed.

There was crackling in the air, roaring, hissing. A wave of heat hit him in the face. Immediately, his eyes teared up again and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep out the burning sensation. It didn’t work. The overpowering stench of smoke filled his lungs, choking him, drowning him.

“Geralt,” he wheezed.

Kara’s let out a noise that probably was supposed to sound soothing, but the tremble in her body that was pressed against Dandy’s proved her act a lie.

“Stay here,” Kara commanded once she had dismounted and helped Dandy down again.

Dandy did as he was bid, fisting his hand into Roach’s mane. It was all he could do.

He felt painfully naked without his cane and when Kara stepped away from him, he had no way of orienting himself, no hope of knowing if he’d be any help or put them all in even more danger if he were to move.

A new wave of smoke rattled his lungs and his whole body shook with his coughs. Roach grew more and more agitated by the second, neighing and stomping her hooves.

“Where is he?”

The shout startled Dandy out of his frozen panic.

“I can’t find him. I – there’s blood.”

No. No!

Before Dandy could think twice about what he was doing, he pushed himself away from Roach and took an uncertain step. His heart was racing in his chest, all instincts telling him to turn back, to cling to Roach, to stay where he was! He didn’t know where he was going. He might be walking straight into danger and he’d be nonethewiser.

Snow crunched beneath his feet. The fire roared to his right. Roach huffed to his left. And his friends shouted helplessly for Geralt all around him.

The cacophony of noise made him even more disoriented. Where was he? Was he even anywhere close to Geralt?

He didn’t know. And yet his feel carried him forwards, shuffling, slow and careful. One miniscule step at the time, his hands stretched out before him. He wished he had his cane with him. He wished he knew where anything was. He wished Geralt was here to gently guide him.

But he was alone.

And yet…

There was something compelling him to move. I need to find him. I need to get back to him. I can’t leave him alone!

The words repeated over and over in his mind like a mantra, like they were the essence of that his soul was made up of. Just the need to get back to find Geralt. In this moment, his entire life was directed towards that one goal and for some reason he couldn’t explain, he knew with an unnatural certainty that he could fulfil his wish. He could find Geralt. He always would.

His foot caught on something. He staggered and fell forward, catching the fall with his hands. They met something solid. Wood. It splintered and dug into his hand, but it was unmistakable nonetheless.

It wasn’t enough to orient himself or give him any clue about why a wagon seemed to be so close to the ground, but it was a start. He trailed his hands over the wood, following the edge, crawling along the line of the destroyed wagon.

Until finally, his hands found something other than wood. It was soft, warm, and moving shallowly with weak breaths.

“Geralt,” he whispered, his voice breaking with hope he didn’t dare to latch onto. His throat went tight. It was him. It had to be him!

Dandy’s hands roamed over every inch of him he could find. His fingers found cold metal and closed around it instinctively. Round, with bumps in the middle. Geralt’s medallion. It was vibrating, pulsing in time with Dandy’s heartbeat.

His hands wandered lower and met something wet and sticky.

His stomach twisted and his blood felt cold as the snow that was soaking him where he kneeled on the ground.

“Kara!” he shouted over the roaring of the fire. “He’s here! I found him! He needs help!”

His voice was raw, shrill with fear.

He heard people running towards him, felt a pair of hands pulling him away, holding him tight. He couldn’t tell if the person holding him wanted to make sure he knew where he was or if they wanted to make sure that he stayed where he was. Holding him or holding him back.

It felt like the latter.

Dandy focussed all his senses on Geralt. He heard groans, pants and splintering. The others must be lifting the wood off of Geralt. They were the strongest of the troupe. They had to be strong enough for this…right?

After another helpless eternity, the world around Dandy grew louder. More shouts. The squealing of a wooden wagon. Splashing and hissing as water met fire.

The townsfolk must have arrived and they must be extinguishing the fire. And yet no one was hastening to Geralt.

“A healer!” He heard someone cry. “We have an injured person!”

“He’s dead,” came the reply that made Dandy’s hands clench on his thighs and made him strain against the hold. “No one can survive being crushed under a wagon.”

“He can!” Dandy shouted. The arms around him tightened. “He’s a witcher! He can survive more than that. He got swallowed by a selkimore and survived. He made it through the war with Nilfgaard. He is the only witcher who survived extra trials!”

He didn’t know how much of that was even true. Maybe it was something his tutor had told him about or maybe it was just something his panicked mind was making up, trying to convince him that he wasn’t about to lose Geralt.

The shouting stopped.

“A witcher?” There was something in that unfamiliar voice. Something terrible. Cold fury. Hot, burning hatred.  “You didn’t tell us we were helping a witcher.”

“I didn’t think it necessary,” Nadine said in that tone she used when the actors messed around too much during rehearsals. “He needs help and we are –“

“We’re not helping mutants,” the stranger spat.

The sound of movement fluttered around Dandy.

“What are you talking about?” Dandy tried to pull himself free. Maybe it was better that Kara was stronger than him. It wouldn’t have ended well for him if he had freed himself. “He is a good man! He saved us and he has been saving people for a century!”

“Let him save himself then.” Dandy could practically hear the sneer in the stranger’s voice. “Or better yet, let him die.”

“How dare you, you worthless son of a –“

Quick steps approaching, Kara and Nadine shouting in tandem and then a smack in his face that flung his head to the side.

He let out a sharp cry, more out of shock than pain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel Kara shift their positions, bringing herself between Dandy and the man who had hit him.

The stranger didn’t let that deter him.

“Listen here, you bastard,” the man hissed in a low voice that sent shivers down Dandy’s spine. “My town won’t help mutants like him. We are leaving. You’re lucky we don’t burn down the rest of your wagons for tricking us.” Snow crunched, as he got even closer. Dandy could feel Kara tense. “You can be lucky you’re still alive. Someone like you…breakable, gullible, expendable. Of course you’d feel kinship with someone else who’s just as unwanted as you. But you should let him die. Or else you’ll be the one to die. Maybe not today, but sooner or later, he’ll be the cause of your death and when that day comes remember that I warned you.”

“That’s enough-“ Nadine’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Leave him alone. I appreciate that you helped with the fire, but I won’t let you talk to Dandy like-“

“I don’t care.” Dandy said, a fire coming to life in his chest, growing stronger with each word the man had spoken. “I don’t care what you say, Sir. If I had to, I would stand between Geralt and the likes of you any time. I will defend him as long as there is breath in my lungs to speak and tell people like you that you are wrong.”

For a tense moment, there was only silence. Then finally, the man huffed and retreated, the other people that had followed him here to fight the fire, following him once again.

Dandy should have felt triumph at having had the last word, but all he had was a coldness and heaviness spreading through his limbs.

He hadn’t known – Geralt had told him that not all people liked witchers. He had warned him. But Dandy hadn’t realised that this dislike, this unreasonable hatred went so deep that people would leave Geralt to die.

When Geralt had told Dandy that he was hated, he had meant for it to warn Dandy to stay away from him. All it did now, was solidify what Dandy had already known: That he would stand by Geralt, stand between him and the world if he had to and stay there until no one doubted that Geralt was worth defending – even if Geralt himself was one of the people Dandy had to convince of that.

He stood to the side, leaning against Kara, until someone pressed his cane into his hand. The familiar weight made him let out a dry sob. It was too much. It was all too much. And he was doing too little.

He could do nothing but listen as the others carried Geralt into one of the wagons, only moving to say that they could put him in Dandy’s wagon. He heard Clarisse say that stitching up wounds was nothing like sewing costumes, but she would still try everything in her power to treat Geralt’s wounds.

As Dandy waited, something nudged his shoulder from behind. Warm breath ghosted over his neck.

“Roach,” he said without thinking about it twice or asking anyone if he assumed correctly. A weak smile stretched his lips as he caressed her nose. “He’s going to be fine. I promise, he will be alright.”

He wished he could believe it himself.

Later, when he was finally allowed to go into his wagon and see to Geralt himself, he sat down on the bed heavily. His hands twitched at his sides, before finally, he reached out, finding Geralt’s hair and running through it in a soothing motion. He didn’t know if he was trying to calm Geralt or himself.

Once he started touching him, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t be apart from him again. Not now, not after being left unknowing for so long whether Geralt would live or die.

“Geralt,” he whispered, leaning closer until he could feel Geralt’s breath ghosting across his face. “Geralt, can you hear me?”

No reply. Dandy pressed his free hand against Geralt’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, tracing the medallion that hummed at his touch. His fingers tapped a rhythm onto it. A melody was at the tip of his tongue, but couldn’t fully form. He wished he could sing for Geralt now. He wished he could do anything to make sure Geralt would stay with him forever.

“Don’t leave me, Geralt,” he whispered and meant more than such simple words could say. “Don’t ever go. I can’t lose you. Don’t make me lose you.” His words came from deep inside his soul and yet, they somehow felt like someone else’s words, like an echo of something he had heard before.

Geralt was still out. But he would survive. He had to. But in case he didn’t…

“I love you, Geralt.” He tilted his head forward, his lips meeting a scarred cheek. His fingers came up caressing the scar as if it could take away the pain that had caused it.

He wished Geralt could somehow feel his touch and know that he wasn’t alone.

“J’skr.”

Dandy’s whole body tensed when Geralt let out the garbed sound.

“Geralt?” he urged him.

Geralt let out a long sigh and beneath his fingers, Dandy could feel Geralt’s face stretch into a faint smile.

“Jaskier…” Even in his sleep and with the pain that must still be racing through Geralt’s body, his voice sounded unbearably warm and fond.

“I’m here,” Dandy said, caressing his cheek. “I’m-“

He froze. It hadn’t been his name. Jaskier. For a brief, beautiful moment he had been so sure Geralt had spoken his own name.

Bitterness welled up in Dandy. Of course he had been foolish enough to think such a thing. How could he not imagine Geralt saying his name in that tone? It had been what he had dreamed about for months. Sometimes he had even let himself think he could have this, could have Geralt.

But now…

He gave a weak smile. A mask. An act.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “You’re not alone.”

But Jaskier wasn’t here. Geralt was calling out for someone who didn’t sit by his bedside, who couldn’t stroke Geralt’s hair, who couldn’t coax him back to wakefulness. All Geralt had was Dandy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could be more.”

He swallowed, starting to pull his hand away, when Geralt started mumbling again. Dandy had to strain his ear to understand what he was saying.

“Love you…Jaskier.”

Dandy squeezed his eyes shut. He had known. Long before now. The way Geralt sometimes spoke about his friend, never even mentioning his name out of the pain it would bring. Of course Dandy had known that Geralt loved his friend, his Jaskier.

It was different hearing him say it like this.

What was even worse, was what followed the next hours. Dandy didn’t leave Geralt’s side for a single moment. He spoke to him softly, caressed his hair in comfort and held his hand. Above all, he let his own heart break, listening to Geralt cry out for Jaskier, begging his long lost love not to leave him, to come back to him, to live again.

He listened to Geralt live through Jaskier’s death again.

“I wish you didn’t have to go through that,” Dandy said softly, his voice thick with all the tears that had already dried up. “I wish you never have to go through that again.”

Maybe if he wished hard enough, it would come true. But even a dreamer like him knew that wishes spoken aloud were nothing but wasted breath. For now, Dandy could do nothing but listen to Geralt relive a nightmare and know that no amount of wishing would bring Jaskier back or undo what had already happened.

[wonder-womans-ex]

The High Road

Chapter the First: In Which Logan Enters Into a Non-negotiable Negotiation

There is a man in Logan’s room. 

For a moment, he stands there in the doorway, motionless, because that fact alone is a little difficult to come to terms with. There is a man in Logan’s room. 

He’s not just in the room; he’s sitting cross-legged on the foot of Logan’s bed, picking at a loose thread on one of the blankets. Logan, still stunned, shuts the door behind him, and the man looks up abruptly at the sound.  

He jumps to his feet, bowing and saying “Your Highness,” at the same time as Logan starts to fire questions at him. “How did you get in here?” he demands first, and, without waiting for a response, moves onto “Why are you here? Who are you?”

He doesn’t expect an answer, but he gets one—and what an answer it is.

“My name,” the man says with an air of great importance, “is Leo Knut.” 

There’s a pause. “Never heard of you,” Logan tells him. 

“Good.”

Another pause. Logan takes a step forward, then two, until he’s close enough to get a good look at the intruder. There’s a black bandana covering his mouth and nose, and another pulled over his hair, but a blond curl is still peeking out and falling over his forehead. A slit has been cut into one of his slender, pale eyebrows, and it takes Logan a few seconds to tear his gaze away, but he’s glad once he does. He meets Leo’s eyes, and he’ll be damned if they aren’t the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. 

He could get lost in those eyes—they’re a bright, sunny blue, speckled with glints of sapphire and shimmering aquamarine; they seem to glow in the same way a cloud does when it passes in front of the sun—and, indeed, he does. Reclaiming his senses takes a few moments, but it’s worth it for the energy that passes between them. He and Leo are a current, brighter even than the sun shining outside, and Logan starts to mourn the loss of that current the instant he forces himself to look away.

“You were wondering how I got in here?”

So, sure, it’s not the first time Logan has heard him speak, but it’s almost like it is. Before, he had only been able to hear Leo’s words, not his voice, but now it’s a completely different story. Leo’s accent washes over him, and it takes him a moment to place it—American, he realizes now, which means that the boy standing in front of him has roots buried halfway across the world—but once he has, he’s gone. 

“I—I was, yeah,” he stammers, trying not to blush. Leo scrunches his eyebrows up, and then he turns and steps back to sit once more on the bed. One hand, fitted snugly into a fingerless black glove, pats the space next to him, and Logan sits, trying not to show how flustered he truly is. The wool blanket is rough against his palms, so he folds them into his lap. He imagines he must look like an idiot—a stuck-up idiot, for that matter—or some sort of damsel in distress, but it’s worth it if he gets to be just that much closer to Leo. 

“Well,” begins Leo, earnestly meeting Logan’s eyes once more, “first I had to distract the guards. They’re good at their jobs, you know, especially the one by the west gate…”

The apparent problem with Leo, Logan reasons, is that there’s just so much of him. Not physically, no—in fact, he’s on the slighter side, muscular but with the leanness of someone who knows what it’s like to go for days at a time without proper food—but he’s overflowing with personality. Passionate is not a word Logan uses often, but it truly is the only word that comes to mind when he thinks about Leo Knut. 

Well, not the only word. There are a few others, too, on the tip of his tongue: beautiful; vibrant; charming; the only thing ever envied by the sun itself, but passionate is the one that gives him the least pause; it’s the one that needs no modification or analysis. Leo is passion. Passion is Leo. To Logan, at least, it makes sense in a way very little ever has before. It can’t have been even a quarter hour since Leo entered his life, but already Logan knows he’ll never recover. 

Leo’s voice is like honey. It’s like melted butter in a frying pan. It’s like dipping his toes into cold, clear water on a hot summer’s day. It’s like waking up in the morning to sunshine streaming through the gap in his curtains. It’s like laughing and crying all at once. Logan’s strong suit may not be description, but there is no world in which he could not write poetry about Leo Knut’s voice. 

Logan has always fallen in love fast, and this is no exception. 

“...that’s the brilliant part, see? The others think they’ve seen an intruder, so they shoot, and the one at the west gate runs off to see what all the commotion is. Now I’m free to get past his post, and—Logan? Are you listening?”

Logan starts. “How do you know my name?” he asks, somewhat stupidly. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone from here to Prussia who doesn’t know your name, Lo.”

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Logan’s heart really does not melt inside at ‘Lo.’ Plenty of people call him that—his sisters do; most of his friends do; heck, even a few of the servants he’s known for a while. 

But Leo is not plenty of people. 

“Oh,” says Logan, “right.”

“‘Oh,’ he says, like he isn’t the heir to the fucking throne of France—”

“Shut up, Leo!” Logan protests playfully. At least, he tries to pass it off as playful—he’d be lying if he tried to tell himself he isn’t flirting. After all, there’s something truly intimate about using someone’s name in conversation when alone. 

It rolls off his tongue right, too—out loud, it sounds like some sort of tree spirit, or a star in the night sky. For a moment, he even entertains the thought that perhaps Leo is a prince, too; he knows what it’s like to be royalty and can therefore understand Logan’s life in a way so few people can. But just as quickly, he lets himself acknowledge that Leo is no prince. 

For Leo’s hands, when Logan reaches out towards them and takes them in his own, are rough and calloused. These are the hands of a woodworker, or of a hunter. They are not at all like Logan’s own soft, pale, occasionally-inkstained ones, and this alone is proof that he and Leo are and always will be worlds apart. 

He knows why it matters to him, but he also knows why it shouldn’t—after all, there is no world in which he and Leo would ever be able to love each other, anyway. Not when the law and the people and everything else Logan was born to uphold are against it. 

Leo smiles—or, at least, his eyes squint in the telltale way that means he’s smiling—but, even from what little Logan can see of his face, there’s something off about it. It’s halfway between awkwardness and confusion, and Logan isn’t sure there’s a word for exactly what it conveys. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t protest or resist when Leo gently pulls his hands out of Logan’s grasp—or maybe there’s another reason, too. 

“You didn’t answer my other question,” he points out, simply to continue the conversation. He’s not entirely sure what he’d do if he doesn’t hear Leo’s voice again right now, and he doesn’t think he really wants to. “What are you doing here?” 

Leo nods thoughtfully, eyes seeming to darken. His entire personality shifts. He no longer has happiness radiating from every inch of him; he no longer seems to emit warmth like he’s a fire. He becomes cooler and more poised and almost more vicious, but in a way that is, paradoxically, anything but angry. He’s still smiling, though, and Logan has no idea what to think of that. “I’m here to kidnap you.”

It takes Logan a second to register this. Once he does, however, his hands clench into fists and he’s immediately on the defensive. “What?” he asks, but it’s clear this is a how dare you ‘what’ and not a please repeat yourself; I think I misheard ‘what.’ “You—that’s illegal! You can’t just tell the prince of France you’re planning to kidnap him and expect him to let you get away with it!” 

He’s blustering, and he knows it. “I could get you arrested, you know. Every guard on this floor will come running if I just so much as scream!”

It happens so fast he nearly misses it. One second, they’re sitting next to each other, a good two feet between them, and the next, Logan is flat on his back against the pillows, Leo pinning him down with one knee on either side of his torso and his left hand holding both of Logan’s wrists above his head. The other hand is pressing something sharp and cold into Logan’s neck, and he knows without having to look that it’s some sort of dagger. Leo’s bandana has slipped down, too, and his whole face is visible for the first time. 

“You could,” Leo agrees, grinning to reveal a narrow gap between his front teeth and two perfect dimples, “but you’re not going to.”

.

wonderful characters by @lumosinlove

thanks to @heyitssmiller for beta reading :)

[moonlit-han]

if i could comfort you ↠ stray kids: all members

genre: bullet point imagine word count: 1.4k warnings: mild angst, brief description of anxiety attack request: no a/n: as i was listening to another day, it struck me that stray kids need comfort and care just as much as anyone else. they put on such strong and happy faces, but sometimes i’m sure they need to break down. so often we write about how, in our fantasy worlds, we’d like others to care for us. but how often do we write of how we’d care for them?

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

bang chan

if i could comfort you . . .

i would tell you everything will be okay

it’s okay to be worried or anxious

but it’ll work out in the end

i would give you all the cuddles and snuggles and hugs

i’d make a blanket fort with plenty of pillows

so you’d never have to come out if you didn’t want to

you work so hard and push yourself to create perfection

but honey you need sleep

i’d run my fingers through your hair 

and murmur soft words as you drift off to sleep

when you’re down and the world feels like it’s crashing down around you

i’d hold you

i’d listen

you could spill all your worries and doubts and everything else

all your secrets

into me and i’d keep them so you could be safe from harm

i’d help you carry the weight of all the expectations and responsibilities you’ve taken on

it’s easier, after all, with two to share a load

i’d wipe the tears from your cheeks when it all becomes too much

and cheer you on even when you can’t muster the energy yourself

i’d make you breakfast in bed (with obligatory pineapple juice)

and run like children through the park with you

i’d help you laugh over anything and everything

bc your giggle is the brightest thing in the universe

lee minho

if i could comfort you . . .

i would let you cry on my shoulder

as i rub your back and rock us back and forth

i’d listen to all your frustration and anxiety

and when the pain is physical from so much dance practice

i’d give you the best massages imaginable

when you’re so busy that you can barely function

i’d feed the cats

and make you food

and remind you to sleep

i’d shower you with kisses in the morning to wake you up

and do it all again at night to help you fall asleep

i’d do all the little things you do for others without them even realizing you do them

i’d give you flowers so your days would be sweet

i’d hold your hand whenever i could

just so you’d know i’d always be there for you

seo changbin

if i could comfort you . . .

i would kiss you sweetly

so, so sweetly

if you felt self-conscious about anything at

i wouldn’t ignore or minimize your feelings and thoughts

but i’d still reassure you that you are perfect the way you are

i’d casually trace spirals and words of love into your skin

and i’d cuddle you just as attentively as you do for me

i’d be the big spoon, tangling our legs together

and nuzzling your neck

when the stress of composition becomes too much

i’d slow dance in the kitchen with you

or go on an ambling walk

i’d bring you sparkly stones or pieces of art

(because you’re my baby crow)

i’d make you tea just the way you like it

and when you go to sleep

i’d be there to hold you tightly the whole night long

hwang hyunjin

if i could comfort you . . .

i would finger-comb your hair to relax you

i’d give your neck and shoulders a massage, too

when all you want to do is stay home and hide from the world

i would stay with you

and bring you yummy food

i’d read you poetry and play calming music

when all you can do is cry

bc people can be cruel and critical

i’d hold you and kiss the tears from your cheeks

when you’re sore and tired and can’t even think for being so tired

i’d help you into the bath and gently wash your hair, making sure to use the lily soap you like so much

i’d wrap you in so many blankets and sweaters

or make sure you have a fan in your bedroom for the night

in the quiet before dawn

when the light is like silver

and you’re restless in your sleep, your brow creased ever so slightly

i’d brush the hair from your forehead

and kiss your cheek

before pulling you toward me so our chests meet

and our breaths and heartbeats synchronize

to lull you back to sleep

han jisung

if i could comfort you . . .

i would try to make everything okay

i’d listen to your fears

and keep them tucked away in a little box you could never find

if all you can bring yourself to do is stay in bed

because the world is overwhelming

and the little voices inside your head talk too loud

i’d stay under the covers with you

nice and safe

we could stay there all day, comfy and happy in each other’s company

giggling about the silliest things

when anxiety gets the better of you

and the tears fall fast

and your breath comes in great gasps

i’d hold you and rub your back

i’d help you breathe steadily

and i’d make sure you drink water

when the pressure of work becomes too much

i would make a blanket nest for you

and queue as much anime i could

i’d hold your hand and kiss you sweetly

and run my fingers through your hair as you rest your head on my chest

i would protect you

lee felix

if i could comfort you . . .

i would simply be there for whenever you need me

i would hold your hand for as long as you wanted me to

when you can’t bring yourself to be upbeat

and can barely think

i’d do all the little things for you that you can’t deal with

i’d make sure your friends (chan, probably) come over

bc the presence of those who love you helps once you’ve had a little time to yourself

i’d bake you something special

and hope that it lives up to your expectations

and i’d get out the nerf guns to play with you

maybe we’d play hide and seek with them, too

i’d cling to you like an otter clings to a shell

just so you’d know i’m always there for you

i would tell you how precious you are to me

and all the things that make you wonderful

since your soothing voice calms me so much of the time

i’d sing to you in all the languages i know

and massage the back of your neck if you’re ever anxious in public

i would kiss your sweet nose

and cuddle you all night long

kim seungmin

if i could comfort you . . .

when you can’t stand being sensible anymore

and just want to scream at the world

i would listen to you

to your ranting and frustration

and i’d just smooth your hair and kiss your cheek

i’d read from your favorite book to you

and make a nice pitcher of water with lemon and thyme or mint in it

i’d hold your hand and occasionally kiss your palm

i’d play music to cheer you up

and when you’re napping because the demanding schedules eat into your sleep

i’d draw you, capturing your soft smile

and the gentle slope of your cheeks

and the graceful slant of your neck and shoulders

so that when you wake, i can show you how lovely you are

if you need reassurance

i’d be there

i’d help you think through whatever’s on your mind

when you just can’t keep going anymore

after a full day of singing

and your throat is almost sore from it all

i’d make you tea and give you a warm compress

and then lay with you, your hand in mine

and your head on my shoulder

yang jeongin

if i could comfort you . . .

i would make sure to get your favorite foods and snacks

so you could simply hunker down and not deal with the world

when the combination of work and school and high expectations becomes too much to handle

i’d hold you as you cry out your frustration

i’d rub your back as you shake from the feeling of having no control over your life

because all the things you need to do just overwhelm you

and i’d assure you that everything will be okay

that you’ll get through it all

and that, no matter what, you’re still loved and amazing

if you’re so tired from life 

and can’t even think, much less cook and plan and even wash,

i’d do as much for you as i can

i’d help you regain control

and make sure that you sleep

i’d put a lavender sachet by your pillow to calm your senses

and curl up with you, slowly trailing my hand along your back

a light reminder of my presence and support

[hellothere-generalangsty]

hey hey hey 📝

Hey you 🥰 Let me tell you straight away there's more than one because I'm a sucker for your fics and I will absolutely read all the one I haven't read yet because I just know they're good. I just know it. Same, my absolute favorite is in blue! 💙

@murdertoothpick

________

young volcanoes

Of course I love this one, Fives' fic AND Fall Out Boy?? I knew you would come up with something awesome but this... This is absolutely wonderful.

I just love the delight, the comfort in knowing that the war is over, and there will be no more fight to the death for the clones. For these men who will finally do something else than die; they will finally live.

It's not until Echo nudged him that Fives sees you approach the ramp with quick feet, colliding into him with a force so strong that he stumbles back a little, and yet, it's the most grounded he's felt in a long time.

Again, I screamed a very real scream when I read that. It's sad; but also beautiful, to be the one person that grounds him and offers him enough comfort and care and that feeling of safety-

'Don't ever let me go,' you press into him, and the way he squeezes you just a little tighter makes you melt.

It does make me melt. I am a puddle. This quote alone cured my anxiety. No but; for real; I just love these silent moments. I am very vocal about my emotions and feelings for the people I care about; but sometimes words aren't enough, or argent quite right so we turn to these silent exchanges - a look, a pression, a touch - something to let you know it's okay. I love that.

Fives meets Jesse with a proud grin, his hold on you relenting except for the one arm he keeps around your waist. 'Not tonight vod,' he breathes, meeting your eyes as you turn to face his brother, 'I'm going home.'

And Fives' words repeat softly in your head. He's going home. […]

That home is wherever the other is. It is the one thing that perseveres beyond the war. It is the one constant Fives' has ever had the choice to have, the one thing you'd never give up for anything.

This. This is it.

Being someone's home is so personal and meaningful. The trust, the care, the feeling of safety- everything that comes with the fact that you are someone's home.

And for it to be a constant in a life and a galaxy where everything keeps changing?? It's the same energy as Ari's fic It's been a long, long time.

It's comforting, and it gives me hope. This is the essence of Star Wars - hope - and you depicted it so perfectly.

I am honestly amazed and in love with this fic. (And Fives.)

.

at least, percentage wise

This one was a bit painful but also tender; let me explain.

'Hunter sold me as a droid today.'

He continues, 'I know he doesn't think of me like that but...it was hard enough being treated as a clone and now...I don't know what I even am.'

This. Is very painful.

I absutely love Echo, right. I adore him, he's awesome and handsome and kind and funny and he's Echo.

Yet he doesn't know that. He doesn't know who he is anymore- "what" he is.

What. That's so painfully sad. Like I said clones are already caught in this sort of identity crisis because what are they? Clones? Soldiers? Men? Brothers? Humans?

And now. Now Echo isn't even sure he fits the last category anymore. And it honestly pains me when people call him "android" or "droid man" because he already feels so self-conscious about this. And yes- he has prosthetics and robotics implants- but never should he be considered less of a human because of them. He's still Echo. He's still human.

He changed, but he's still Echo.

His next words are whispered, afraid of receiving an answer. 'Tell me you'd love me more if I weren't...' the words catch in his throat, 'this.'

And this is the moment where I tear up because.

This.

I can hear it. I can hear the pain and the fear in his voice and it honestly breaks. My heart.

How deeply rooted is his self-consciousness? How deep does the self-hatred run for him to think so little of himself??

I hate it here it just makes me so angry and sad for him.

My handsome boy deserves BETTER.

'You handsome man,' you jest, blessing him with a short kiss on the lips. 'You ready to sleep now?.'

I love this because I always call Echo "my handsome boy" or "handsome boy" and that's 1. Because he IS handsome like have you seen the man?? And 2. Because I believe if he hears it all the time he will slowly but surely believe it. He will accept that he's handsome and maybe feel less self- conscious about his body and himself...

I just need him to feel loved and beautiful because he is.

And I mean... Soft. Domestic. "You ready to sleep now?" is something you tell to someone in such a casual yet caring way and I am absolutely here for it.

This fic is just- I would react the same way reader did. It's so obvious to me he's absolutely trustworthy and nice and smart and handsome- he's filled with qualities and so many reasons to love him and care for him.

I mean- Echo. He alone is a valid argument.

Anyway, this fic just has me feeling much love for Echo and you made me fall for him again;;

.

push and pull

'Tsk, why won't you do what I say?'

I read that in his voice every. Single. Time. That's just- so him. 100% pure Crosshair content here.

And "the little umbrella" thing? Tech's remark on the food?

These little funny moments are so soft and a nice contrast to the sometimes sad undertone of the fic! I love that!

'I...like being close to you.'

'It's hard enough letting you in. I don't want my brothers thinking I've gone...soft.'

This. This is also very Crosshair. He's not very vocal, and to see him struggle a bit to confess what's really going on and feel awkward and embarrassed about it is just-

Great. In a sweet way. And the way you write him so well, so accurately-

Yes. 100% yes.

.

somewhere only we know

Alright. This fic right here is, I believe, the first one I read from you. At least it marked me enough for me to remember it as the first one.

Anna. This fic right here is. You made me cry. You had me crying while reading it because it's just.

The song alone is already- you know, very bittersweet and nostalgic in a way; and you managed to write something so perfect it's- it's not the fic matching the song. It's the song matching the fic.

I read it again to write this review - with the song on loop obviously - and I got tears again. It's just that powerful.

But your anxiety melts away as he gives you a slight smile, offering his hand to you, 'You'll have to lead the way.' […] He would always trust you, he has never felt otherwise.

I can't even explain how meaningful that it. It means so much to him, and he knows; and you do too. There's a level of trust and intimacy here.

'Just...hold me.'

Don't ask me why, but reader saying this is low-key making me emotional.

'Do you want this?', he murmurs, […].

You take an agonisingly long time to reply, your eyes flit between his, searching for any sign of hesitation, or regret. But you don't find any, as much as Crosshair is good at hiding his emotions behind an impassive and collected facade, you see the silent plea in his eyes, a longing for more.

Tears. Very real tears. The care and respect and trust and love this question alone holds. It's just. So delicate and soft, I just-

And then-

'Are you sure?' he whispers, so close to you, basking in this intimacy.

Girl if you wanted to make me cry you just had to say it, right? Like, don't mind me I'm a sucker for this; being so intimate and respectful of your partner that's like- everything.

Honestly that's what everyone deserves.

He lets out a light laugh, it's beautiful, reverberating deep in your heart, a sound so rare that you try hard to commit it—and the way he looks—to memory.

I promise you...

The candlelight surrounds your face in a halo-like glow like you were sent from heaven. It's a blessing.

...you hold my heart. This is poetry. This is art. This is comforting and lovely. And I am tearing up once again.

Your next words are meek, whispered, hidden away from the outside world, but you bare your soul to him anyways.

You almost don't hear it, but the way the words vibrate against your skin as he spills himself inside you makes it impossible for them not to be heard.

You wrote the words; but honestly I didn't even needed to read them to cry. It's just so vulnerable. They are both in a situation were they are literally and metaphorically naked, and there's nothing else but them - everything else fades away without them noticing and it's just.

Them.

And they allow themselves to be so vulnerable, finally, after all the build-up and the obstacles of the war and the downfall of the galaxy and the chip. After loosing each other and finding their way back to each other.

And finally allowing themselves to be so vulerable, so exposed to each other-

Brb gotta cry some more.

He takes one of your hands in his, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. 'Just getting you a cloth Cya'rika.'

Your mouth opens in an Oh, and you gingerly nod at him. 'Okay, sorry,' you give him the most beautiful smiles he's ever seen, and there's a part of him that has changed its mind about leaving you even for a second.

I can't even. Explain. How sweet this is. No words can express what I'm feeling as I read this. The comfort. The reassuring tone. The f**king Mando'a nickname.

Your arms open pathetically when he lets go of you, an invite for him to join you under the covers. But he looks at you in pure adoration, a sight that's so peaceful, so domestic, that he finds himself letting his mind wander, imagining that this temporary room was a home, a place where he could spend the rest of his days with you, away from war and the empire.

My heart is aching. A lot. It's so peaceful yet so tragic in a way, but they don't see that. Again, it's just them; this moment of intimacy, of domestic life where nothing else matter but what they are sharing right now.

Somewhere only we know.

.

alone together

This fic is awesome. I love the dynamic between reader and Crosshair, there's this very obvious alchemy between them and you manage to write about it with limited dialogue and amazing descriptions. I am absolutely in awe.

Also- Confident Reader? Love that! Especially in a Crosshair fic! And it's great because we also see a glimpse of Crosshair having self-esteem issues, so there's a sort of shift where for once Crosshair doesn't have the "upper hand" and reader isn't all shy and flustered you know (though I absolutely love these kind of fics too!)

But yeah- their dynamic was really interesting!

.

heartbeat

Another Crosshair fic because I love him and you really write him so well and in-character.

'I like...hearing your heartbeat.'

This little hesitation is everything. And it's so... So personal and delicate.

Someone's heartbeat. That's life pulsing through their body. That's very symbolic too; we usually link strong feelings like love and care to the heart, and to lay there with someone and enjoy listening to that life pulsing-

Yeah I'm getting soft again

'I'm not moving,' he grumbles, pressing himself further into you and sighing in relief.

This is so lovely; him holding on tighter because he doesn't want to move, because he feels good here and that's the best way he found to let you know...

I just love your takes on Soft!Crosshair, you really know what you're writing about.

.

hands meet

I tried to draw Hunter. With the sunglasses and the shirt and him trying to be cool.

I shall do that drawing again because it's absolutely HILARIOUS and I just adore this fic because it's so light-hearted and sweet and funny!

It's a feel-good fic, the one you read when you need to clear your head a bit; and I promise you the laugh I had reading it!

And I just love the dynamic between Hunter and reader; it's awkward yet there's a lot of alchemy and you just know they do like each other a lot and are just struggling to express it directly.

That's very sweet and I love that.

Love it.

________

So yeah! Again, it was longer than expected but I am not sorry because you deserve to know how much I love these fics and how you also hold my heart in your hands with these.

You're an amazing - incredible - writer and I love how you bring these very human and realistic elements to your stories. It just makes them even more relatable and enjoyable, even if sometimes it's painful, and that's what I love so much about your writing.

Also I absolutely love how you incorporate lyrics between in your writings

Anyway- love u Anna, love your writing, you're amazing!!

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

“IT WORTH IT”

Ezequiel “Ez” Reyes x Coco's sister!reader

Anon asked: if it’s okay for you could you write a ez Reyes x coco’s sister!reader ?

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: soft physical abuse and smut.

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes with grammar. The gif isn't mine.

Thanks to my lovely @starrynite7114 for helping me reading it before posting, looking for mistakes.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

When Coco founds you and told you he killed your mother, you started to laugh uncontrollably. You couldn’t believe it was true. That bitch, and never better said, forced you to ‘work on the streets’. Besides, every dollar you earned, she kept it. Your brother had a serious gesture in his face, telling you without words that he wasn’t joking. Your eyes started to cover in tears, setting up a knot in your chest. Hell was over. You hugged him, putting your arms around his waist, letting all the pain out of your body. Took some seconds to Johnny to do the same, holding you in his arms next to his body. It was time to go back home.

You slept non-stop for the next two days, getting up off the bed only when you were needing to eat something or go to the bathroom. Coco took care of everything. He paid the debts your mother left in your name and also gave you some money to buy decent clothes to wear. While Letti was recovering her life too, going to high-school as a girl of her age, your brother found you a new job. It wasn’t your favorite thing on earth, but it was a decent job.

Felipe was Angel and EZ’s father. An old man with a strange past, like Coco said, who needed some help with his carnicería. From Monday to Thursday, he hired you to serve the customers in the morning. At first, you thought that could be boring, but that man was really funny, kind, and intelligent. When everything was calmed and there wasn't any client to attend, he used to talk to you about books and the kind of poetry his deceased wife loved. An old and wise man who understood that you were forced to destroy your life, and now you were looking for a second chance.

After some months working there, Felipe trusted you more than his children and for that he asked you to close the shop Friday night. You didn’t asked, you never did and you’ll never do.

It’s almost ten when the last customer left the place, closing and locking the door, sighing as you did. You leave the apron hanging in the wall coat rack, before washing your hands with soap and disinfectant. Then, you’re ready to count the money and keep it safe in the warehouse. You write down in the notebook an orders summary of the day and how much was the total, as your boss showed you to close the day. After leaving everything clean and changing your clothes, you go out through the back door to the alley, locking it with the keys he gave you. Coco told you to go to the MC where they’re having a party, but the only thing you wanna do is go home, eat something, watch a movie and sleep.

You walk down the empty avenue with hands inside your pocket and your eyes looking straight ahead, but you’re not paying attention to anything that is happening around you, thinking in your own business. Because of that, you don’t see it coming. Long fingers grab your hair, pulling you back. The scream, that you utter falling down to the floor, finishes when your head hits it. A sharp beep settles in your ears, when you see blurry. A man lays on top of you and starts to punch you. One fist goes to your cheek making it burn in pain. You try to set yourself free, moving desperately behind him. The second fist goes to your mouth, breaking your inner lip and leaving the metallic taste of blood runs down by your throat. It hurts. It hurts too much. You ask for help, but you know how Santo Padre works. If a chulo is hitting one of his bitches, anybody is gonna separate him from you. But you’re not that shit anymore. And you try to fight.

When you’re pretty sure the third fist is gonna leave you knocked out, the arm stops raising in the air. Coco is there. Angel, Gilly, Creeper and EZ too. The youngest Reyes helps you to get up, wrapping in his strong arms guiding you to his bike. The guys are fucking up the man that dared to mess with you, after being paid with a huge amount of money. You’re crying harder, hiding your face against EZ’s chest till he makes you sit on his motorbike.

“Hey, hey… Look at me.” He took your cheeks between his big hands, having a look of your face to know if you’re okay. But they’re not gonna bring you to the hospital, they’re gonna take care of you by themselves. He hugged you again in the warmest way, giving you a kiss on top of the head, before Coco could walk next to you. He kisses you too, feeling protected when the men stuck around you.

“Probably will send some of his men tomorrow.” Creeper said looking at the guy laying on the ground unconscious.

“Eh, boy scout, could she stay with ya’ tonig’? She will be safe in the roulotte, near the ' ‘clubhouse”. Coco doesn’t want him to do it, he wants to protect you. But Johnny knows he must burn the fucking place where that man locked you once.

“I’ll take care of her. Rest is yours”. EZ nodded, helping you to fasten the helmet, before driving away.

He presses the wet cotton in alcohol against your inner lip, after cleaning the blood that was running through your jaw and neck. He’s doing it softly without wanting to hurt you more, while you're holding a bag of frozen peas on your check. The pain is fading, but you know well that tomorrow you’re gonna have some bruises in your face. EZ is very concentrated in his task, doing it slowly till seems better.

“I’m sorry”. You finally say with your eyes down, trying not to cry again.

“Why?” He looks confused, putting apart the cotton. He gets up off the small bed to bring you some water.

“You were having fun, I just… I ruined it”.

“No, you didn’t, (Y/N)”. He shakes his head, taking a seat in front of you, more close than you can really notice. “Coco thinks that should be fun if you come with us and Letti. And Angel was worried about you closing the shop alone. He wasn’t wrong.”

EZ simply shrugs. He knows you. He knows you well, ‘cause the time he isn’t with the MC, he visits you and his father in the carnicería. He also is always recommending you books to read in your free time, to talk about them after you finish them. He was kind to you since you met him, everybody is, but he does the most. So, you’re not sure when you decided it was a good idea to kiss him. But there you are with your hands supported in his knees, pressing your lips against his. At first, he can’t react, keeping his eyes open. And you’re about to put yourself away when he pushes you into him with his hands on your waist. Sitting on his lap, the kiss goes deep. Even the pain in your mouth doesn’t stop you to receive his curious tongue looking for yours. It feels good. It’s not your first one, but it’s the first time you do it ‘cause you want it without being forced.

As the seconds go by, it gets more passionate and needy. You two have been avoiding it because of Coco, but you’re about to die or something worse. His hands run over your hips, your back and your breast, letting him strain a hand under your dress looking for your panties. When he slices it down your legs, the next move is put down the zipper. He's hard, more than you could feel when your hips were dancing on top of him seconds ago. You do when he rams you without expecting it. Your groan meets his roar in your pressed lips against his. He doesn't make another move, waiting to you to feel comfortable with his hardness invading your narrowness. It's not your first time, he knows. But it's been a long time since your last and, of course, it's not the same.

You want please EZ and he wanna do you the same. Maybe it's not about love or maybe it is. But you two feel the desire running in your veins. And you want to do it before Coco arrives and kills you both. You start to move your hips, from up to down, slowly. Enjoying for the first time with your hands on his nape and his on your waist. You move faster according to, to feel more pleasure, forehead against forehead, with his light brown eyes on yours to not miss a single detail. He loved the way you whispered his name, moaning against his lips, once and again.

“You like it… uh?” He asks in a whisper, knowing what he is referring to.

“Ye-Yes. I really do, EZ”. You nod with your chin before get kissed slowly than the moves of your hips do by inertia.

The youngest Reyes smiles softly, feeling how the heat begins to focus in his cock. He doesn't know how he should ask you, but you were with more men that you wanna remember and you feel it. No words needed. You want him to do it, so pull him out it's not an option. Moving faster, your moans meets again, you can't avoid it. Both are sweating and you're tongues are fighting inside his mouth. Feels so good. And you think you can touch the sky when he finally cums inside you, with a fury roar drowned in his throat. Your orgasm comes too a few seconds later with his full name going out your lips.

The only things that break the silence inside the roulotte are your heavy breathing and some complicit laughs.

“Do you... know is the first time someone… ‘do it’? You whisper with a low tone in your voice, trying to make him know that never before anyone cum inside you, nor make you come to an orgasm.

His proud smile appears from nowhere, giving you some short kisses without moving an inch.

“When I get the patch, I'll ask Coco for you”. He confesses laying his back against the wall to have a better view of you. “Will you wait for me?”

It's a question you don't expect. At least, not in a moment like this. But, yes. You're going to wait as long as it takes.

[omoi-no-hoka]

Hi, guys! Sorry for the rather long hiatus. Work is still...soul-consuming haha. But I wanted to make a post about one of my favorite Japanese artists and this really cool song he released a little bit ago! All of his songs just got added to Spotify finally yesterday!

His name is 米津玄師 Yonezu Kenshi, and he is amazing. He started out making Vocaloid music under the name Hachi, in which he programmed all of the instruments and vocals. Now he mostly does music with his own vocals, and he writes and produces all of it. He also used to do all the illustrations for his music videos, and he does the cover art for his albums! I’m always swept away by his creativity and the poetry in his lyrics.

And you know how big a nerd I am about words, so here’s my English translation of my favorite song from his latest album. The song is called ひまわり Himawari (Sunflower).

This is a bit long, so I’ll put a “Read More” thing here. If you open the whole post, you’ll see my translation, and also a breakdown of my favorite kanji and words he uses. Hope you enjoy!

I hope that everyone studying Japanese can take a look at these lyrics, my notes on them, and see that even just listening actively to music can be a good way to study. 💗

ひまわり　Himawari　Sunflower

悲しくって　蹴飛ばした　地面を強く Kanashikutte kettobashita jimen wo tsuyoku Sorrowful, the ground I had sprung away from 跳ねっ返る　光に指を立てて Hanekkaeru hikari ni yubi wo tatete pulled me back strongly. I raised my finger to the light 愛したくて　噛み付いた　喉笛��く aishitakute kamitsuita nodobue fukaku Longingly, biting down on your lips and whistling deeply その様が　あんまりに美しくてさあ Sono sama ga anmari ni utsukushikute saa That visage is simply too beautiful 舌を打って　曠野の中　風に抗い Shita wo utte, kouya no naka kaze ni aragai Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland 夜もすがら　嗄れた産声で歌う yo mo sugara shagareta ubugoe de utau Sing in the hoarse cries of a newborn through the night 遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands 傷ついて　静脈を不意に巡るエレキ kizutsuite joumyaku wo fui ni meguru ereki Wounded, electricity flows unexpectedly in the veins 掻き毟って　吹き荒び　鳴る哀歌 kakimusshite fukisusabi naru erejii Rip it away, rage upon it, let this elegy ring out 聴こえているあの時から　少しも絶えぬまま kikoeteiru ano toki kara sukoshi mo todaenu mama It never dies down, not even the slightest, from the time I first could hear it 震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienaize It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling その姿がいつだって　僕を映し出していた sono sugata ga itsudatte boku wo utsushidashite ita That silhouette, it was always reflecting me もしも同じ街で生まれたら　君のようになれたかな moshimo onaji machi de umaretara kimi no you ni nareta kana If we had been born in the same town, could I have become like you? 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も海を見つめてる hikage ni saita himawari ga ima mo umi wo mitsumeteru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still watching the ocean. 聴こえるなら強く叫んでくれ　僕の名をもう一度 kikoeru nara tsuyoku sakende kure boku no na wo mou ichido If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. 鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor 解き放て　乱反射して遠くへ　鳴り響け tokihanate ranhansha shite tooku he narihibike Let it out, that bent refraction that echoes far into the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands 

A Quick Note on Translating Lyrics

I’ve got to say that it’s really hard to translate song lyrics haha. Sometimes the word order is so different between Japanese and English that I have to swap the lyrics. 

遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance

The Japanese is actually in reverse order of the English here. Technically, a very direct translation would be “All the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance, shine the light of your bruised heart.” 

Interesting Words

舌を打って shita wo utte click your tongue

In Japanese culture, doing that “tch!” sound by clicking your tongue is rude. It shows that you are impatient, irritated, or frustrated. Many English speakers click their tongue when they’ve been asked a question and need to think about it. If you are a tongue clicker and you go to Japan, try to curb the habit!

The full lyrics here are: “Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland.”

So this really expresses the pent-up frustration and anger in this person.

嗄れた shagareta, kareta hoarse

What I love about this word is the kanji and its radicals. We have 口 (mouth) and 夏 (summer) put into one kanji. Can you imagine what it would be like if all the heat and dryness of summer was in your mouth and throat, and how hoarse and miserable you would feel? What a cool kanji! (Note: this is a very low frequency kanji.)

切っ先 kissaki point (of a sword, etc.)​; pointed verbal attack

I had a hard time translating this line for a lot of reasons, but in particular I wasn’t sure whether this kissaki was a sword or a verbal attack. I can only assume that because this song talks about crying out and singing so much that it must be the verbal meaning, but Yonezu uses many metaphors so I could also see it being blades. 

人いきれ hito ikire body heat from several people in close quarters; stuffy air

This was a new word for me. Again, I found myself unsure of which meaning to use when I translated it. I went for the “stuffy air” meaning in the end because it was more succinct, but I imagine that Yonezu was probably imagining the former meaning, because he mentions streets and cities, which I imagine to be crowded. He’s also asking a person he’s lost to call out, and perhaps they are lost in a metaphorical sea of people. Then again, summer imagery is strong in this song as well. His word choice is just so GOOD. I wish he’d marry me. 

散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he fire the shotgun into tomorrow

This evokes much more beautiful imagery in Japanese. The kanji for “shotgun” are 散弾銃 (sandanjuu). 散 means “to scatter” or “to spread,” like fallen cherry blossom petals scatter in a gust of wind. So rather than evoking the image of someone pulling a trigger, it evokes the image of the pellets scattering into the air like fireworks or petals almost. 

北極星へ舵取れ　その手で Hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Take the oar to the North Star into your own hands

Ahhhh this is just so freaking pretty. “Take the oar to to the North Star into your own hands.” In other words, determine your own fate, take charge of your life. I just love the “oar” here.

吹き荒び fukisusabi to blow fiercely; to rage, to play (a flute, etc.) for fun

Again, I wasn’t sure how to interpret this line because of the multiple meanings woven into this word. Japanese is SO. COOL. you guys.

哀歌 aika lament (song); elegy; dirge; sad song

My man Yonezu out here bein tricky. Though the official lyrics use the kanji 哀歌, he actually sings this as エレジー (elegy). And that rhymes with the last word of the previous line, エレキ (ereki). Typically, Japanese songwriters tend not to think too much about rhyming. In fact, in Japanese in general, rhyming isn’t thought of as frequently as it is in English. So the fact that Yonezu used this interesting play on words with 哀歌 was pretty cool to me.

震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienai ze It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling

I just didn’t have a way to translate the feelings in the ぜ here. “Ze” is a sentence-ending particle that usually shows a person’s confidence. So for him to use it here as he describes himself trembling, is like he’s putting on a front of confidence when really he’s deeply troubled. 

佗び戯れ wabizare ???????

This was my favorite word in the song, and also the hardest one to translate! It doesn’t appear to be a real word in the dictionary, but it’s an imperative made of two different words: 侘び and 戯れ.

Have you ever heard of the term “wabi” or “wabisabi?” It’s this concept of Japanese culture and aesthetics that focuses on the beauty of impermanence and solitude, and an appreciation for the sorrow that comes with the transience.

To look up the definition of “wabi,” it means “taste for the simple and quiet; rustic simplicity; austere refinement; wabi​,” or “enjoyment of a quiet life.”

But to look up the kanji of wabi (侘), we learn that it means “proud, lonely.”

So this is a very nuanced word! I think that the “wabi” of our word “wabizare” is meant to conjure the meaning of the kanji wabi, “proud, lonely.”

Now, 戯. Zare means “pleasantry; joke; tomfoolery​.” There is also a word 戯言 zaregoto, which means “nonsense” or “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.” I imagine that when Yonezu created this word  佗び戯れ wabizare, he wanted to combine the “proud and lonely” with “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.” 

鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor

In other words, he’s asking this person to call out to him, but he knows that they are far away, too far for him to hear. He wants them to give out a cry, one that will sound as lonely as it does nonsensical because there is no way it will reach him.

Uh... What Does This Song Actually Mean?

Disclaimer: This is entirely my own opinion and it could be totally wrong! I always believe that everyone can interpret any piece of art how they like.

The tricky thing about Japanese is that you can omit subjects, and Yonezu does that a lot. So unless there’s an imperative or a use of pronouns, I’m not sure which line is about whom. 

But basically, I think that there was this beautiful person that the singer came to know, someone that they loved and admired. But that person fell into a very dark, hopeless situation. They are “a sunflower blooming in the shade, waiting for summer,” and the singer wants that person to reach out to him. “If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor.” 

The chorus is all imperatives, telling the person to leap into tomorrow, to get it all out, to take the oars into their own hands and head for the North Star. 

I think that this song is all about the singer wanting to help a person they care deeply for, and imploring that person to take action rather than suffer passively.

The End!

I hope that you guys liked this post and that maybe you learned some new words and even found a new artist you love! 

Would people like to see more lyrics translations? They’re kinda fun!

[arthurflecksgirl]

Hi sweety❤️ Can I have a fic where Arthur helps x reader who's having a panick attack? him calming her down, cuddling her... thank you so much 😘

My dear friend. Thank you sooooo much for your request. I really really hope you like the result.

Summary: You`re greateful for how far you and Arthur had come in your relationship, how much progress he made to experience true happiness. But then you discover one of his journal entries. Is he still in the same dark place he was before? Just the thought of him suffering is giving you a panic attack. But Arthur is right there with you...

The dim light from the tv screen was the only light that filled the living room. Murray Franklin was talking to a well known comedian. You watched Arthur resting on the couch. He was falling asleep during the live show, even though he was looking forward to this episode all day, he was so tired, his eyes got heavy when Ellis Draine and his Jazz Orchestra started playing already.

"One day" you thought watching him breathe in and out like it was the easierest thing to do when you suffered from waht he had been through. One day he will be sitting on Murrays couch and telling his own jokes. And his idol will be proud of him like a father. Because he deserved it. He deserved the world.

Arthur seemed at peace with himself sleeping. That was new. Which made you proud of how far you two have come in your relationship. He was getting better.You felt it every morning waking up, receiving your good morning kiss from his coffee stained lips and cigarette tasting breath. He was making baby steps but looking at it now, over a year later it was a total different world he was living in. The one you created together. Ever since you met him you wanted to cure him. To support and comfort him through everyday life. To help him out of his mindset which was all that he had known since he was little.

People kept telling you that it was impossible to heal wounds like his. To heal someone that experienced his kind of trauma. That all he needed was proffessional help. But you knew that they missed out at something. Just because he needed his meds didnt mean that love wasnt the key for his cure.  You knew that there were some scars hidden inside of him, buried so deep that it would take years to get through and be able to work on that. But you also knew that being  loved was the only thing in this world that could ease Arthurs pain and make him the man he always wanted to be. He was destined to be.

And every single day  spent together was proof that he was making progress. His smile became more and more genuine. His laughing fits didnt happen as often anymore and if so they wouldnt last that long because you would hold him and help him breathe until it was over. He also told you about his journal entries and how they changed. His therapist was also seeing the changes. He was talking about how much more poetry and beautiful thoughts filled the pages.

You gently stroke his hair. Watching him sleep always felt pretty intimate to you. He was so vulnerable and unaware of his beauty. But you knew that even in his sleep he was aware of another thing- your love. Thats why he was even able to get some sleep.

You took another close look at his face. You could never get enough of him. It was risky to give him a kiss on his closed eyelids. Arthur had a very light sleep and could wake up any second but there was no way to fight the urge to do so. His eyelid fluttered under the soft touch of your bottom lip, but he didnt wake. You let your index finger travel over his dark eyebrows. They were shaped so perfectly, matching his piercing eyes and the slight circles underneath them. His body was still stressed out from work. His fragile body which was trying so hard not to break down while starving.

His stomach problems caused by his meds was another thing you had to work through. You looked at the bowl on the table. he almost finished his soup today, which was a good sign. You smiled, got up from your knees and walked to his desk to get the empty cups of coffee from the morning. It was time to make the dishes.

But the moment you grabbed the cups his journal distracted you. It was opened. You wondered about his last entries, the ones he wanted to show you because he wrote some new poems lately.

It took you a moment to think about if it was even okay to have a look at the opened page but it was already too late. One sententence was marked, the letters thicker than the rest of the written words. It caught your eye without a warning. And when you read it, your heart stopped for a second.

"I just hope my death makes more cents than my life"

Why?

Why the hell would he write something cruel like that?

The letters started to blurr through your tears. One tear was falling upon the page. Right on the word HOPE.

Shit. Now he would notice that you came near this page. You nerveausly grabbed a handkerchief and pressed it on the spot where the tear was soaking through the page. It was too late, making it look even worse.

You started to cry , throwing the handkerchief on the floor.

Why?

Yo thought he was getting better. There was so much proof.

Did he felt like his life was worthless?

Didnt make any sense?

Was he feeling like all of this wasnt making sense?

You thought you helped him.

Was it al in your mind? His proress? Him becoming a happier version of himself? Was it all a lie you told yourself?

The possibility of Arthurstill being the same tortured soul as when you met him simply broke your heart.

Why was a beautiful and gentle soul like him suffering so much? How cruel can the world be to him?

Was he still wishing he was dead? Was he still lying in bed at night, fantasizing about ending his own life?  Would he ever hurt himself again? Risking to being locked up at Arkham, so there was no chance to share a bed together? Just visits with him being handcuffed on the other side of the table? Was there still a chance he was that unhappy inside?

Tears fell like rain.

The pain inside your heart grew with every thought that crossed your mind. If life was still torture to him, why wouldnt he talk about this to you? Didnt he trusted you enough? Was he embarrassed about how he felt? Or was it simply because he didnt wanted you to get worried about his condition?

It was all too much.

You started to feel like your throath was getting tighter. Like the walls were closing in. Everything inside of you screamed. There was this nameless fear inside of your guts. Possesing you, hurting you. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Dizzyness overcame you with all its power. Cold sweat. All of the sudden the happiness you felt while watching him sleep was being sucked out of your body. And now all you knew was fear.  Liek it was the only emotion left in the world. Pure, naked fear in its rawest form.

A panic attack.

You had experienced this before but never this intense.

You sat down on the chair, trying not to look at the opened journal again.  It hurt so much. All of it did. Your body. Your heart. Mostly your heart. And your head. Both heavy from tears and the thought of Arthur being suicidal.

Your breathing got heavier as you started to sobb.

And then you heard Arthurs footsteps. His naked feet on the floor. You woke him up. He was finally resting and you woke him. This made you feel even worse.

"Oh my god Y/N, darling. What happened?" He noticed your tears and heavy breathing.

"Dont worry....Arhur....please....just go back to sleep okay? You need your sleep.  You`ve been working hard today...."

Arthur checked your pulse "Oh shit, your heart is racing. Did you took any medication? "

"No..."

"Did something else happen?" He checked your forehead, noticed your shaking hands. "Looks like you`re having a panic attack. I know the symptoms very well. I had so many in the past when I woke up from nightmares."

You nodded. Still sobbing like a baby. Arthur gave you one of his handkerchiefes and started to stroke your hair "Oh darling, I kow this feels terrible. But it will pass. Just try to breathe. Breathe with me okay. Remember when you helped me breathe during my laughing fits? I will do the same with you now okay?"

"Okay"

Arthur lifted you up and carried you to the couch.

"Is that okay? Is it comfortable?" you nodded. He was so caring it broke your heart. He cared so much about you, while inside he was suffering from so much pain.

He positioned himself behind you, resting both of his hands on your tummy and told you to breathe in and out like he did. Until you felt your breath becoming one with his. Just as calm and deep.

"Good" he whispered, his gentle fingers under your shirt. He knew that skin on skin contact helped calming you down.

"You`re doing great" his voice was everything you needed to hear.

"Oh Arthur....I feel like I cant breathe...."

"Shhhhhhtt.....baby I know. I know how it feels. Your body is telling you lies. You can breathe. Just do it with me."

"You felt Arthurs chest lifting up and down, his warm breath in your neck. He was everything to you. You needed him to be happy.

Arthur placed thoughtful kisses all over your neck. As soft as a butterflies wings. You tried to concentrate on the details. His long , dark eyelashes crossing the spot behind your ears. The tip of his nose tickeling you. His muffled "I love you`s".

"I`m sorry I woke you up"

"Dont be!"

"There was this sudden fear coming over me. It was like....I thought I was dying."

"I´m right here with you Y/N. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise!"

You nodded. Knowing he was right. Nothing could harm you with Arthurs arms around you. You just wished it was the same the other way around. Wasnt it the same?

His journal said it wasnt.  His written words hitting you like a knife.

"Do you know what triggered this?" He asked you, while his hand was caressing your chest.

Should you tell him? He would notice the wet spot on his journal page anyway.

"Arthur I am so scared to tell you this but...I was ...oh god....I was looking at your opened diary  page. It was lying on teh table when I was getting the coffee cups and there was this sentence that caught my eyes......" you started to sobb uncontrolable.

"What page?" he asked "Please dont cry. Ohhhhhh please ...." he pulled you closer to his chest so his heartbeat was pressed against you.

"You wrote....."I just hope my death makes more cents than my life...." Arthur. This hit me so hard. I didnt knew you still felt like this. I dont know.....what to say....I`m just.......oh Arthur....." you pressed yourself against him as if your life depended on it. Arthurs white shirt was now soaked with tears.

"Ohhh nooo darling. That was my old journal. My therapist wanted to bring it back to her to proof how much progress I made since I met you!"

You loosened your embrace to look him in the eyes "W-What?"

"Yeah" he shrugged "I just marked the darkest pages to see how far we have come and stopped at this one before going to sleep."

The weight of the world was falling off your shoulders "Really?"

"Yes.....oh  Y/N I am so sorry you had to go through these emotions just because I was so stupid to leave my old journal lying on the table. "

"You are not stupid Arthur!"

"Well this time I was"

"It was my fault....I shouldnt have looked at the page in the first place".

The air was finally coming back. Your body was starting to relax again.

Arthur held you close in his arms "That was the old me. And yes sometimes I´m still having dark thoughts but its just.....echoes from the past. Its not part of our reality anymore. Its just ghosts. They`re not real. Just trying to tell me lies. So I am not listening to them . I´m listening to you. To your words of love and comfort. I`m save with you. And you are save with me. Remember?"

"I remember Arthur. I love you so much!"

"I love you more"

"Thats impossible" you smiled, kissing his upper lip.

Arthur rested his head in the crook of your neck whispering "If I`ve learned one thing from being loved, its this: Nothing`s impossible - with you in my arms".

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