#sunlight left me

[waves-mp4]

Just finished reading Sunlight Left Me by @vivificanousprime (go read it it’s good) and i love it so much that it hurts. I feel so bad for Soundwave. He watched his friend fall in and out of love and the way that each time Megatron gets worse is just UUGGHH (/lh). Also this quote,

“In the end, he admitted to himself that the friend he'd loved died in that arena, screaming for the mech greying in his arms. All that proceeded was the fantasy.

Shockwave, however, was real. Their love, their bond, their family were all real and infallible.”

This quote kills me. After the death of Terminus, Megatron kinds loses himself. Soundwave watchs this happen and must hurt to see his friend change so much. Soundwave stays at Megatron's side through it all. They are still friends but the old Megatron is long dead.

Shockwave must feel so stable to Soundwave. Shockwave is calm and predictable. Yes, Shockwave has changed but that was a long time ago. But current Shockwave is reliable. Like the quote says, Shockwave is real.

(at least that is my interpretation. I’m not able to find underlining meanings in stories and stuff sooo i might be wrong lol)

[lesbiansloveseokjin]

day 391/548 of hobi's military service

these selcas were posted on 180511 with the caption:

🌹☘️ #jhope 🌸🌼

[blackrevell]

Monte Carlo Postcard // Alex

ver.2 under the cut

I wish I could say the fandom sleeps on her, but CDPR slept on their own character to start with tbh

[megumi-fm]

.

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #30: Two Heads Are Better Than One

His finger brushed through Sif’s road-dusted hair with the calloused care of someone unused to giving gentle touch but growing accustomed to the routine of it. In return she let out a long-held breath in her sleep. A sigh that had been building since she was still waking, since when she was still finding a comfortable place to rest her head, since she’d even had the momentary thought of rest. Rested on his chest, the heartbeat in his chest her steady lullaby. / She held love in her hands as Sawyer let sleep embrace her like gentle wings. Her own wings slowed their soaring, slowly dipped, then gently placed themselves each beside her Hawk. All the while Amesha brushed her fingertips through her love’s hair, alongside her face, a gentle touch to ease her rest. To ease her sleep. Her head rested in her lap, a gentle repose.

It was strangely comforting, he knew, as he thumbed the black shard of his heart trapped in a necklace of leather cords. It beat its rhythm in his hands in time with the one within his chest. He counted in time with it, counted in time with his, a strange moment on his lips as he felt the count be one and the same. It slipped from his hand, then, to rest against her as he reached up to grasp the one at his neck. It, too, pulsed in his hand with life and something else- Something not his but so close and comforting. Still it rest against his breast, still it beat beside his heart. It was slow, now. It was calm, now. It was rising and falling in time with rested breath and quiet heartbeat. He let his piece of her heart fall back against his chest. / Her lips placed a long kiss upon the forehead of her hawk, the storm whose quiet rumbling wakefulness had since succumbed to gentle summer rains of yesteryear and memory, to the gentle exhalation of a spring breeze that she yet breathed in as a hope of her oasis and love. It was here that Amesha could feel her comforting weight and the wide spread of her Hawk’s own wings. To feel embrace of feathers meant for flight and forging. To feel the steady beat of them as even now she dreamed of heights that could only be described as lofty. As sky born. As something that could fly for malms and still never tire. As hers. As theirs.

He slipped out from under her with aching joints and stiff legs as her slow heartbeat thumped against his chest. He could feel it as she dreamed- He didn’t need her mumbling in her sleep, anymore, to know- and for once he could find it to be something kind. Gentle. Comforting. He couldn’t quite fathom what it could be. But it was… It was comforting as he stoked the fire. To know without needing to say. To know without needing to look. He sat down with a groan as the flames began to catch and crackle. The gentle autumn wind slipped by and through him to raise the fire higher and brighten the small pocket of night that cradled them. / Her footfalls padded along the stone floor as the warm cup in her hands wafted cinnamon-weighted steam towards her. Quietly taken, quietly placed at the bedside. She plucked one of her wings from the air as it swirled by her, a crystalline piece of her senses held in her hands. It was always strange to hold them. To have them. She took it and placed it beside Sawyer, her soul and senses releasing their grip on it in the way one might let a limb go limp. But still it drank in all it felt and relayed it to her. Still it spoke. But for now, in this moment, where it was nothing but the quiet night, the sleeping Hawk, and the faint scent of cinnamon bonds… Her hand slipped under the blankets covering her and placed her fingertips on a crystal scar.

He could feel it as the flames burnt a hole in his vision. The afterimages of ghosts on his retinas. But… He thumbed the stone as he stared into the flames. It wasn’t quite what it could be, is it? What it had been. Or, rather, could have been. Right? These ghosts, these phantoms, these memories of memories were his constant haunting companions for so long now. Even in moments when he could bring himself to ignore them they were still there. Still at the edges of his vision. Still always a reminder. He couldn’t tell if it was because the heart that beat against his palm was filled with gentle sleep… But this was different. This wasn’t the artifact of blackened blood like sludge through his veins. This wasn’t the damage done by so many seasons of abuse on his body, on his mind. This was… This was something… Something better. Smoke curled into the sky as he slept, her footsteps sounding out her arrival. She threw a boot at him as he laughed and laughed at something he can’t remember anymore. She was sitting under a tree, her fingers haphazardly plucking out a new song while he slept with a hat over his face. He pressed her heartbeat against his own. / Her fingertips pressed against the scarring of a soul. She’d always remembered when her Hawk was once two. When that defiant, angry, raging storm first caught her soul and pulled her along. She didn’t yet know how it would change her. Break her. Lead her to places far away- Bathed in the oasis and dragged away from her home to one new, one endangered. One that would forge her anew. Forge her heart anew. Forge them both into something… Something… Something better. She cradled Sawyer’s face with one hand whilst the other rest on her chest, on her crystal scar. Her crystalline wings, too, swung low to rest on it together. To bear the same. To be the same. Love was there, she knew. Love was this part of her. She remembered as she cradled Sawyer’s head as she wrought her soul and body back together like iron. Like crystal. Like life. She remembered the fear she felt. The relief as her breath returned to her. As she felt that stormcloud strike with all the force it could muster as she awoke. Even now she wondered if she should’ve accepted the heart of crystal that Sawyer tried to give her. She let out a long, wandering sigh at that. At the wondering. At the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens. She pressed a kiss to that scar between her breasts. To the crystal heartbeat between her chest, her wings, and the old piece of her soul.

[wizardnuke]

can't think abt ekko for too long without wanting to frow up

[todayisafridaynight]

i cant capture it in a single picture but the pain and agony i felt watching this shit in front of my very eyes. this was evil <- needs every frame of it in a museum

[drippingmoon]

Lil' Update

You won't see much of me in November, and December more than likely. I'm reverting to my hiatus/semi-hiatus status, so... my activity will be greatly reduced. This means I'll reblog/be on here sporadically and randomly, and... ayyy, I actually don't like this decision, but this also means I'll cut down on the amount of tags I usually write. That absolutely doesn't mean I don't adore you guys' work or aren't in complete awe (seriously, you guys rock and are fantastically talented and I'm so happy to read so many heartfelt stories), but... it's just something I gotta do. I have a bit too much to juggle... and okay, lmao, half of it has to do with the fact that I basically never wanna go a long period without writing ever again, seriously, it's the one thing keeping my sanity in check🤣🙇‍♀️

Thaaaat said, all the cheers to everyone participating in NaNo and equally as much to those just doing their own thing! Let's all kick some ass💪❤ (and meet again in good health, seriously and please thank fuck)

[bredforloyalty]

it's snowing. maybe life is worth living after all

[acourtofquestions]

There was only darkness, and pain.

He roared against it, distantly aware of the bit in his mouth, the rawness of his throat.

Burned alive burned alive burned alive

The void showed him fire. A woman with golden-brown hair and matching skin screaming in agony toward the heavens.

It showed him a broken body on a bloody bed.

A head rolling across a marble floor.

You did this you did this you did this

It showed a woman with eyes of blue flame and hair of pure gold poised above him, dagger raised and angling to plunge into his heart.

He wished. He sometimes wished that she hadn't been stopped.

The scar on his face--from the nails she'd gouged into it when she first struck him ... It was that hateful wish he thought of when he looked in the mirror. The body on the bed and that cold room and that scream.

The collar on a tan throat and a smile that did not belong to a beloved face. The heart he'd offered and had been left to drop on the wooden planks of the river docks. An assassin who had sailed away and a queen who had returned. A row of fine men hanging from the castle gates.

All held within that slim scar. What he could not forgive or forget.

The void showed it to him, again and again.

It lashed his body with red-hot, pronged whips.

And showed him those things, over and over.

It showed him his mother. And his brother. And his father.

Everything he had left. What he'd failed. What he'd hated and what he'd become.

The lines between the last two had blurred.

And he had tried. He had tried these weeks, these months.

The void did not want to hear of that.

Black fire raced down his blood, his veins, trying to drown out those thoughts.

The burning rose left on a nightstand. The final embrace of his king. He had tried. Tried to hope, and yet--

Women little more than children hauling him off a horse. Poking and prodding at him.

Pain struck, low and deep in his spine, and he couldn't breathe around it, couldn't out-scream it- White light flared. A flutter. Far in the distance.

Not the gold or red or blue of flame. But white like sunlight, clear and clean.

A flicker through the dark, arcing like lightning riding through the night ...

And then the pain converged again.

His father's eyes--his father's raging eyes when he announced he was leaving to join the guard.

The fists. His mother's pleading. The anguish on her face the last time he'd seen her, as he'd ridden away from Anielle. The last time he’d seen his city, his home. His brother, small and cowering in their father's long shadow.

A brother he had traded for another. A brother he had left behind.

The darkness squeezed, crushing his bones to dust.

It would kill him.

It would kill him, this pain, this ... this endless, churning pit of nothing.

Perhaps it would be a mercy. He wasn't entirely certain his presence-- his presence beyond made any sort of difference. Not enough to warrant trying. Coming back at all.

The darkness liked that. Seemed to thrive on that.

Even as it tightened the vise around his bones.

Even as it boiled the blood in his veins and he bellowed and bellowed-- White light slammed into him. Blinding him.

Filling that void.

The darkness shrieked, surging back, then rising like a tidal wave around him--

Only to bounce off a shell of that white light, wrapped around him, a rock against which the blackness broke. A light in the abyss.

It was warm, and quiet, and kind. It did not balk at the dark. As if it had dwelled in such darkness for a long, long time--and understood how it worked. Chaol opened his eyes. Yrene's hand had slipped from his spine.

[ayyponine]

Sorry thinking abt trauma and hauntings and building a new life while accommodating the cracks rather than attempting to move on from the past entirely. Again

[zapsoda]

i understand how peeta got so jacked from baking bread

[ehlnofay]

almost forty degrees on a random fucking thursday. the fan is blowing hot air at me. no matter what I do there is some part of me covered in sweat. just another day of my favourite season

[camelspit]

[ghwosty]

if at any point you become convinced that I'm cool, I am sorry for the deception but I am about as cool as a plastic water bottle left in a car on a hot day

[lit-in-thy-heart]

brb sobbing over a book written nearly two hundred years ago