#wrote something

[merotwst]

remember | solomon

» angsty-ish; gender-neutral reader ; mentions of reader dying someday in the future and solomon having past lovers ; me being delusional and sleep-deprived and losing grip on reality (a cry for help)

you shifted your position so that your face was hovering on top of him, "someday, when I'm gone..." you said, gazing lovingly into his eyes, "i want you to remember me as your love that kept your lonely heart full in nights where the feeling of emptiness was too much. the love whose insuperable melancholy, no matter how heavy, would lift all of it off themselves to wrap their arms around you. you over everything else." your voice grew more stadily as you spoke.

"when I'm gone someday, i want you to think of me when you're wrapped up in a sweater and remember how i loved to knit them for us. think of me when the coffee is just a bit too milky because i like mine that way. think of me when you're alone and remember that my heart will always be with you, no matter where you would end up in." you leaned in to kiss him softly but with so much love, closing your eyes to savor the moment with him.

“remember i'll always choose you in any lifetime.”

solomon listened to every word. every whisper like a secret melody only both of you could hear. his hands on your hips as bare skin brushed over bare skin in sending intimately beautiful sparks over both of you.

his loves past, loves to be discovered throughout the course of his immortal timeline—he didn't want to think of them. he wanted you. he wanted the now to last forever more than anything. 'there couldn't possibly be anyone after you when you're long gone,' he thinks to himself, 'no one could ever compare.'

that's what he tells himself, but he knows it's inevitable.

he's still only human, after all. humans need love to survive.

you'll die someday and he'll live past you. another stone on the ground of someone he once loved, memories to be placed in a corner of his mind thay would be too painful to go back to for a good hundred years.

then it'll get better. and he'll meet someone who he treasures just as much as you and everyone that he'd given his heart to in the past. but you will always have a special place. you will always be a love he would never get over no matter how long and whoever would be in his arms because he knows he'll see you everywhere, hear you everywhere, feel you everywhere when you're gone. And somehow, the thought comforts him.

with your hand to his lips brushing over your knuckles so tenderly, eyes shut and savoring the moment, he whispers back earnestly and honestly.

“how could i ever forget?”

[ignorantof-time]

Clueless by ignorantoftime

1/1 | 1.7k | general audiences

“What do you mean they’re in love?” Scott asks, looking utterly clueless as he stares back at Lydia.

“Honestly Scott, you’re supposed to have heightened senses, how can you not tell?” Lydia gestures towards the two men in the next room. Stiles and Derek stand on opposite sides of the table, bickering about who’s plan is going to work better.

Scott follows her gaze, eyes squinting in disbelief as he watches his best friend and the beta. “They’re literally arguing, I wouldn’t call that love.”

[animanytotsllyinsany]

He knew he shouldn't have pressed the ad. He knew he shouldn't have. He knew about the missing people, the sketchy ads, the terror in general around the 'Find A Friend' ad. He felt like he was being teased, though. Now, as 2 hands gripped his shoulders, he sat thinking to himself; That was a terrible idea. And it was. Now, as the loud laughter rang out, he could do nothing but sit in terror as the being pulled itself out of his computer screen.

"HAHA! I'M SO HAPPY TO FINALLY MEET YOU!!"

He was terrified. The creature was vaguely humanoid, but it had no arms. It had 4 hands, 2 floating where they would be if he had his hands and non-existant arms relaxed, and the other 2 gripping his shoulders so hard he thought he'd bruise. The creature's head was a triangle with one large eye.

"Trikon, lovely to meet you, Alex!"

He was so terrified he didn't even register the person- Trikon- said his name. He started to scream.

"Oh, jesus- Shush! There's no reason to scream! Hush-up!"

Trikon clamped his 2 free hands over Alex's screaming mouth. Alex squirmed and tried to kick him.

"Shut. Just.. Be quiet. It's harder to struggle."

Trikon glared.

"You're my best friend now."

[microchive]

a horse named might’ve been

sitting out on the front steps feels like getting old. in this still, stagnant chill, tobacco spit gathering at the corners of the mouth and congesting. tobacco spit hack and blow is an old factory grate, carbon deposit. the night is the darkest spot of a bruise, smells like ozone, some strange angel hangs its hat on the hook in the sky until morning. skin wind-hardened, long past tenderized, there is nothing tender left about you: girl in the way a girl is a clenched fist. girl like the wall of a trench, collapsed under the lip of the earth, the weight of your brow, the hard line of your marching band shoulders. girl like not man enough. you suck at the filter of your cigarette like you’re fiending for the marrow.

there is another like you: hard as unripe plums, easy like a man should be. she’ll sit beside you some nights, shrouded save the occasional red rust flare of a cigarette cherry hovering like a firefly near her boyish face. you don’t speak most nights, legs spread broad, knees not quite touching. sometimes the membrane of space between her sweaty calf and the meat of your thigh fills you with fruit flies, swarming around the rotted blackberry remnants of love. or what could be love, if you cleaned your room. swept the cobwebs, called your mother. but by now your bones have set, wrong but set nevertheless, and your fists are permanent, and no lover’s soft-handed caress will unfurl knuckle from knuckle from palm.

in the end it is not a caress that knocks you loose but another fist to the face. roiling river of bodies kicking up dust, a hairsbreadth away from passionate embrace, and you’re so hungry for it you leave your defenses down and bruise like a peach. how different is it, really? to be picked up, feel fingers grip you with a violence that borders obsession. to be held so briefly against a warm, beating chest before you hit the floor. but to see the look on her face, afterwards, that is an intimacy you have never been granted. it lingers feverishly.

hit, fractured, groan and thaw. you’re dripping like spring stalactite. now that the hairline fissure echoes between your walls, it runs from trickle to stream, stream to flow, flow to rush, rush to surge, and every limb of the heart that has numbed from misuse prickles with heat, burns to be touched for longer than a brutal split-second.

and it’s enough. to jostle her shoulder, light her cigarette, call her brother. be aware of how her callused fingers tremble and how it sets your working teeth on edge, but sit in it. let it be enough. this cold night is better suited for two.

[virginawolffan]

نہ پوچھو عہد الفت کی بس اک خواب پریشاں تھا

نہ دل کو راہ پر لائے نہ دل کا مدعا سمجھے

I was so desperate all this time to escape this place I call home but every cell of mine made a knot with every corner in this house and I gave a little bit of my heart to everyone, everything is a bitter sweet right now

ماضی میں جو مزا مری شام و سحر میں ��ھا

اب وہ فقط تصور شام و سحر میں ہے

the last day is almost over, and I’m not ready to say goodbye give me some time more so I can lay my head in her lap, life is unpredictable and I’m not ready to let go of her

جدا تھے ہم تو میسر تھیں قربتیں کتنی

بہم ہوئے تو پڑی ہیں جدائیاں کیا کیا

how come I live in a house having the selfish and selfless people side by side

maybe that’s why I never called it home cause home is a feeling

امید یار نظر کا مزاج درد کا رنگ

تم آج کچھ بھی نہ پوچھو کہ دل اداس بہت ہے

[faeriekit]

"This fic was ai generated—" Cool, so lemme block you real quick

[maeamian]

If you saw me agreeing with being annoyed about wasted helium in a fictional context and were like "I bet she has some more helium based anger in her life" good news LAPD fucked up a raid on a medical facility they thought was a pot farm and flat out ruined thousands of gallons of the stuff.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[rs-hawk]

Working on my novel and couldn’t figure out why it felt so empty. I didn’t have any filler. It was all 100% plot. The characters only interacted when necessary. I didn’t prattle on about the scenery or how the birds sounded. I had all my fuller stuff that I loved saved in another file because I “didn’t need it”.

Y’all, I knew this existed in TV shows but it didn’t hit me until this that everything is being whittled down. We are so starving for filler that we snap up anything. I unload all mine on Tumblr or keep it in a massive Google Docs. It SUCKS.

Honestly? Death to plot necessity. Revive filler. Revive unnecessary interactions. Revive just vibing with characters sometimes. I don’t want to just consume the plot and I don’t want to just create the plot either.

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[an-established-butt-dent]

Soooooo after the new details that have been revealed about Veilguard, how do we all imagine a Solavellan reunion is going down? Trapped in the fade together? Lighthouse makeout sessions? A very sad mural dedicated to his Vhenan? My brain is infested with new headcanons.

[emmyrosee]

Could you maybe do smth like cuddling with sukuna

👉👈

Backs facing each other, you gently nudge his legs with your foot, smiling as you’re able to wiggle it between his calves. He traps your foot between his legs, and you giggle when you try to pull it back.

“I’m on insta, fuck off,” he grumbles, but you hear the annoyed smile in his voice.

“I wanna snuggle,” you mewl.

“Yeah, and I want to see how this dude makes this garlic bread.”

You slip your own phone off the nightstand and open your message app, clicking his name and quickly typing.

SENT I want attention, boyfriend 🫶🏻

You hear him snort and blunt nails briefly scratch down the sole of your trapped foot, making you try to tug it back and squeal in surprise. “You want attention?” He begins, letting go of your foot so he’s able to turn on his side and spoon you from behind, body contorting to be straight curled behind you. “Well let me tell you something- I always give you my damn attention. You just can’t live without it.”

You practically purr as he loops his arms around you, tugging you closer and letting his warm hands slip under your hoodie, warm touch on your tummy relaxing you. “You’re right,” you hum. “I just want you all to myself all the time. Not my fault you give in.” He hikes up his voice to offer you a mocking “mi meh mi meh mi”’s. You call him a brat in reply.

“If you won’t let me scroll on my instagram, scroll on yours so I can watch,” he demands.

“I can’t, I follow naked anime men.”

“Im sure you’re joking, but so help me god if you go on Instagram and there’s a naked anime man, I’m blowing up your phone.” You offer him a laugh and slip out your phone to scroll, relishing in the little kiss he plants to your jawline, then adjusting his head to be able to watch your timeline with you.

You can’t help but grin as you feel one of his feet prod to try and get between your legs, mimicking how yours was just moments ago.

[iiping]

what happens in the ruins stays in the ruins 🙈

[hellspawnmotel]

Your Volo in z-a manifestation post makes me wish for Volo(new immortal) and AZ (old immortal) beef.

yeah that would be funny

[manicpunk98]

No one mentions how academically intelligent Halsin is, specifically to do with biology.

My man was leading the druids in teaching about it. Nettie specifically says she couldn't tell you more about the tadpole because Halsin was the one studying it, and he would understand it better.

This being the first time he'd ever studied anything Ilithid, and him figuring out it was altered by magic? He's the first one to tell you what's so different about it. He may not have been able to cure you, but he knew more than anyone from the get-go just by looking at one tadpole. Not talking to any true souls, not having met you yet.

Halsin is incredibly smart, I wish we had some kind of interaction with him that we could tell him that. He deserves more credit than being "the big bear man".