#Heavy sweetness Ash-like frost

[kdram-chjh]

Cdrama: Ashes of Love / Heavy Sweetness, Ash-like Frost (2018)

Ashes of love 💕 💗 Yang Zi & Luo Yunxi

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/yAPFpGBLfYM

[enby-axels]

luo yunxi is like i HAVE to play a pathetic doomed wet cat of a man, and that's so valid of him

[palehorsemen]

[electricsoul-rpg]

fc: Deng Lun (邓伦)

ethnicity: Han Chinese

[sovamurka]

I never thought I'd see the day when the Blue Whisper/Yu Jiao Ji by Jiu Lu Fei Xiang would be published in my country but here we are! And with pretty bookmarks too!

Cover artist: Yasha Wang

Bookmark/inside illustrations artist: S.D-Z Art

[here4drama]

[mearpsdyke]

xu feng for half the show: omg jin mi is so flirting with me!!! she's totally jealous of all the fairies that want me

jin mi: when will this lil bitch give me magical prowess

[diversamenteintelligente]

(via ASHES OF LOVE) Una dea dei fiori con il cuore “cristallizzato”, un dio del fuoco, un dio della notte, un imperatore celeste, una principessa dei demoni , intrighi di potere, gelosie e desideri personali, che creano una trama avvincente che si sviluppa nel regno celeste, in quello dei demoni e in quello dei morali.

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* ┗━━━ ━━━┛ He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ┏━━━ ━━━┓ Quotes - Pushkin, Fyodor Tyutchev, Dostoyevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings - heavy ANGST, some fluff Words - 3000

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Song ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Eventually

Did i cry from my own fic? Yes? ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

4 years ago Bucky’s triggers words were present more than anything, anyone else in his life. Beneath the sheet of gleaming snow, his human-self slept for decades, frozen in time. And everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories : all of Winter’s footprints are effaced by her love, the waves of fury are at peace – she is his homeland shores, grounding his soul like an anchor. „Ah, my last love! Thou art both bliss and pain. And joy - and hopelessness-“ Bucky moves to sit next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her and pulls her in close until his head rests on her shoulder. „Doll, what are you quoting?“ he squints his eyes, quotes always brush against the edge of his curiosity, before taking a peek at her book. „My last love; Fyodor Tyutchev“ she proclaims, hardly attempting to hide her growing smirk. „Am I your last love?“ He drawls, a bit of sarcasm touching his tone, but he feels the seed of doubt embed in his heart at his own words echoes in his head. She just giggles, looking at him with glittering eyes, not moving from her comfortable repose. „Of course, Bucky“ She smiles and nods, before turning her gaze to the book once again, rolling the paper sheet between her fingers and gazing at it thoughtfully. „Read me more, I want to hear more“ he mumbles after completing an impressive yawn. He adjusts his position to get more comfortable on the couch as she continues to read, with his head on her lap. His soul is a wounded dove, it has a painful, longing call. A flying bird about to fall, that was poisoned, festered with the past…and now Bucky is surrendering in her embrace, and quietly drinks the healing rays of poem; of poetry - drinking mouthfuls from this healing light, her light – finally seeing the world bright and complete. "It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!” ― Dostoyevsky 3 years ago „Snow, frost and sunshine ... Lovely morning! Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning, Are still abed ... Awake my sweet!“ Suddenly her voice sounds in the nothing of the night. Though no louder than falling snow, it cuts across the emptiness, so shocking in the endless silence that the words seem craved into his mind, crackle of emotions infuses the void of his soul after the nightmare. „Winter morning, Pushkin. Why do you always read me that when I have nightmares, doll?“ he feels an oppressive weight settling over him. „Because after a raging snowstorm, a lovely morning always follows, Bucky“ „Yeah, because you are the sunshine in my mornings“ He burbles out a delirious giggle as sweat streams down his face. Having her in his life is a kiss-inspired dream, he needs to touch her to make sure she is real. With his shoulders squared and his body tenses from the unknown reality, his hand gently outstretches to her face. She responds by inching impossibly closer into his palm with sliver of softness in her eyes. She is real.

2 years ago Nature is an artist as it strokes swiftly a winter wonderland. But now, wretches, every drop of blood — don't stain the innocent snow. The scene is set, exquisitely divine — snow always pluck the vibrating strings of Bucky's mind, but her voice is enough to make his worries melt away. Sometimes they talk of the past where еre any roamed or died. They talk of old times when Winter only meant death and not Christmas chimes. There is no wind to speak of, more an icy winter chill outside; because If he wants to overcome the whole world, he needs to overcome himself so they go for a walk to the park, snow crunching beneath their feet. Their hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of his past — hanging by a string, loosely holding him from collapsing. And she knows when thoughts are tossing him around, bathing in his blood — so she chooses to speak.

„I still remember that amazing moment. When you appeared before my sight. As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light.“

„Doll, I really think that you love Pushkin more than me“ „I remember reading him for the first time, it was so romantic“ „You are telling me that meeting me was not romantic?“ „Sometimes I just imagine meeting you in a café, far away from here - I imagine that nothing bad has happened to you, Bucky. Sometimes I wish you didn’t remember the past.“ And this is what Bucky learns now: that her love is an antidote to his worries, always, that stands within this otherness of the world, of nature — the beauty and the mystery of the Winter season, out in the fields or deep inside their favorite books at home — both those activities, her ideas; are re-dignifying his worst-stung soul. He doesn’t need to fight darkness. Bring the light, and darkness will disappear, she is his light. She uses his moment of distraction to move away and makes a small ball of snow and throws it right at his nose. „I was thinki-“ Bucky shouts as he wipes the snow from his face. She has the audacity to laugh as he removes the snow, and he decides to chase her. Bucky easily tackles her into the snow, putting his arm around her to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in the fall, faces very close together. „Now, this is romantic, Bucky“ He nodes his head, speechless still. To heal is to touch with love that which was previously touched by Hydra.

Present „How are you holding, Buck?“ „I’ve lived too long with the pain, I won’t know who am I without it“ „You still quote stuff just like you did with her, Buck. Why don’t you talk to her, she is still recovering I talked with her today“ „She doesn’t remember anything, I want her to move on“ his inquisitiveness nearly outweighed his reluctance to talking to Sam about it, attempting to simmer the flames of the protective nature over her. „She might remember, she needs time, Buck-“ Sam pressures him with a challenging look that he more than gladly returns. Bucky considers the proposal and the fact that Sam is giving him a guarded expression that seems so hopeful, followed by a slight nod of his head before speaking.

„The time I spend at Wakanda, with Shiru- I’ve decided to go with the procedure. I can’t trust my mind unless they restart my bra-“ „You can’t-“ Bucky rises from the chair and is halfway to the door of Sam’s house when he turns and says „Enough, Sam, please“

Bucky has fond a peace in nature which was irreplaceable once; he steps outside looking at the colorful sunset. The sun is out, but he is cold, eyes are wild, but the mind is asleep, the world is alive, but Bucky has dead. Nature is love, nature reminds him of her, but he is aloof of everything that screams live for today — he died the moment he woke up to her laying in the white sheets. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Flowers will grow back after he stepped on then and maybe in a less miserable times they may see each other again — all his grief says the same things „this is not how it’s supposed to be“ and the world laughs and holds at his hope by the throat „but this is how it is“ The final turn is that. Oh, how strongly grabs them, the secret plot of fate and everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories: all of Bucky’s footprints of love are effaced by Winter, the waves of fury are not at peace – no longer is there a homeland shore, no longer someone grounds his lost soul like an anchor.

The sadness won’t last forever, he won’t be able to remember it and for the last time Bucky goes to sleep so he could see her in his dreams for the last time – she taught him everything except to how to live without her – the present feels like the past. It’s a fitting punishment for a monster to want something so much, to hold it in his arms and know beyond a doubt that he never deserved it, that he ruined it – his soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly shallows him whole –  Bucky is too gone to be healed – he almost robbed her of her life. Now, she will carry the scars forever, but he selfishly remembers their love, there was love and it was theirs. Bucky was too deeply afraid to face her, that the moment their eyes meet and she finds herself staring at a stranger and he will realize that he has become a person she no longer recognizes – he stares at the poem she left for him, it makes him smile, because it reminded him of him and her; of what they used to do – James doesn’t want this to be the end of the chapter but it is – it’s the end of the line for love – nothing ever ends poetically he realizes end and his trust to poetry, it was not beautiful – it was just pain. He performs autopsies on their conversations long ago – he can to lie Sam, but he can’t lie to the hole deep inside – he lets himself cry, it’s better than feeling nothing at – wearing her shirt, because it’s still smells like her, but it will soon fade like his memories of her, of everything, erased forever. How can he live with a conscience that suffers whilst acknowledging his sin; with the memory of knowing she left this poem behind, thinking she would die from his own hands? ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥ I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly, I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you As tenderly and truthfully as I. Your sincerely, your Doll ◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

„Excuse me for interrupting, but I just saw that you are reading `The Brothers Karamazov` and couldn’t resist coming to talk to you“ a calm voice cut through the silence. „Oh, I just wanted to reread it- you can sit with me“ She has a thoughtful look on her face, heart shattering into so many tiny fragments that it is hard to speak, it leaves her incredulously blinking when she sees his blue eyes eerily crystalline. She only heard about him in periodic whispers over the mouths, hearing about his recovery and adjustment to life all over again.   She never intended to stay long, but she does because it is peaceful and she is not in a rush to leave, but his presence is overwhelming, feeling the presence of eternal harmony, fully achieved just like before. „I need to go for work, it was nice meeting you“   She senses that she should be following a different path, a path where their lines don’t cross. It is too much, she can barely breathes. There is a furious discontent from a moment, which verged on loathing; for her to have all of her memories and for him to be just a stranger taking interest in her book. This inexhaustible fantasy of them meeting again, of them reading books again – she needs to get out here of here, but then Bucky speaks and it’s impossible to smash the idea of them being together into splinters and turn it to dust – his eyes are the ocean, all flows and connects when their eyes meet. „Wait, can I get your number?“ he whispers from beside her, worry clear on his face at her sudden urge to go. He continues to stare intently into her eyes, waiting for their gazes to meet again and he feels his heartbeat speeding up.  „Oh?“ Bucky almost chokes on the air as she turns around to face him, not responding with any words. She just furrows her eyebrows slightly. And it hurts so good that its Bucky’s own free unfettered choice to ask her, to come speak with her. „I want to buy you a book“ his blue eyes trail from her eyes, to her lips thinking about how gorgeous this girl is. She is not sure which is worse – the intense feeling of him being here, or the absence of his previous love for her. Maybe it will be worse if she doesn’t let herself be part of his new life. She is too afraid of giving herself to someone she might lose again, she is too afraid that Winter might come again. Her loyalty to his past, to keeping it a secret its want cost her the most and she needs to bare all of her sins all over again, to keep a secret. „You don’t want to take me on a date?“ she questions while watching him with an amused gaze. „Yeah, yeah – I want to do that, too“ he responses with uncertainty laced in his voice, trying to hide a nervous laugh between closed lips. “You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again” „Is that a quote?“ he shrugged, looking startled. „Yeah, it’s from the book, James“ „How do you know my name?“ it is a tormenting thought that refuses to take shape, not even sure if he wants to know the explanation behind this. “I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer” Her eyes get a little teary, but she's quick to put a lid on her emotions, it is overwhelming that he doesn’t remember any of her favorite quotes, of the quotes she used to tell him. „Where is that from?“ „Idiot“ „Excuse me?“ „The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky“ she hesitatingly looks at him, he is already looking at her with those ocean blue orbits that hold so much kindness, curiosity, just as they used to. „Oh…that was clever, I will give you that“ he laughs to himself, shoulders shaking with humor. „And I will give you my number“ „Really?“ „No“ “We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken”

„That is from Crime and Punishment“ she purposely tries to add amusement to her voice, trying to appear as this has never happened before. She is frozen, words caught in her throat. „Yeah.“ He licks his bottom nervously. "O-okay, I will give you my number"

An invisible thread ties them together – the pull the drag deep inside beneath her skin, the heavy gravity of him. She loved him enough to spend forever waiting, no amount of time is ever enough and even one day if forever runs out, she will be fine, because it’s her decision waiting for Bucky, getting to love him all over again. To exist with him is her greatest privilege and pain – but he has settled into the depth of her soul because, she has found what she loves and it almost killed her – the thought of him forgetting her terrified her before, but it probably terrified him too before his mind was fully reset – she searches for quotes which remind her of them, but he probably did too. This time she is learning him slowly, taking her time; in no rush with her love – there are oceans in James’ eyes and when she looks at them, both emotions and memories hit me waves. Sometimes she wants to scream so loud that the ground trembles, there is so much fear and grief within her that she is decaying from the inside out and there is no one to help me but herself. She needs to stay silent, need to be here for him once again – she loved him and will love parts of him that are not easy to love, turning the pages gently and helping him re-write a happy ending to his narrative. She has loved none, but him and it cuts her soul a million times just to form a constellation to light his way home – angry and half in love with the new him and tremendously sorry for how it turned out for them – it’s not a metaphor, this ache, this fear of Winter all over – but all Bucky’s life was grey before meeting her one day at the café. He brushes up against pink and the barest touch and - the rest of his life is green again, green like Spring. He doesn’t know who he is and the cycle begins again – he pierces her soul ,she is half agony and half love – Bucky is too tangled there, finding his way back to her unknowingly.

And that’s how Bucky imagines it, meeting her all over again after his procedure - in a café, far away from here - he imagines that nothing bad has happened to her. Sometimes he wishes he was just Bucky, sometimes he wishes that the past has never happens - sorrow compresses his heart. His grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy of that daydream. Her memories never returned. Bucky’s memories were deleted successfully. They never met again. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Tag list⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ @dear-lolita @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @montyrokz @sarah5462 @mooievis @almosttoopizza @midnightramyeoncravings @itsmadamehydra @ravenromanoff @beetlejuicesupremacy @queenashen @kandis-mom @whitexwolfxx310 @msoldier @venting402 @avery199 @pandabearrrrrrr @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @tokoyamisstuff @happinessinthebeing

“The most monstrous monster is the monster with noble feelings” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Eternal Husband

[bahbzxxx]

Sick! Venti X Traveler!Reader (SFW)

(In which his sickness was caused by getting his gnosis taken cause Huh sis that hurt even watching. But HAH he’s getting ✨better✨ while S*gnora is a pile of ashes lolsies)

There’s only one set of eyes on your mind as you race through the serenitea pot that’s much too big for your liking. If you were focused on your environment, Everything everywhere would make you want to explode into a pile of stardust here and now. Only the thought of not finding him would make you want to do that.

You approach the guestroom. Venti has been staying with you for a little while, recuperating. He will do it once in a while… when he needs a place to hide because the sickness is too hard to cope with alone. Sometimes, his stays are very long…and they seem to get a little longer, every time. He insists that it’s because he enjoys being with you, and he’s really recovering, but by not. But you know He will never feel the same… since…

No…NO.

You push the ice from your mind and how it still feels like frost blooms along your skin, only to penetrate it. It’s sharp.

You can only imagine how sharp it was for him…

With you just…there…doing nothing…

You knock on the side of the door, which is slightly ajar.

You hear a gentle hum, as well as footsteps and slight floorboard creaks from an owner too beautiful and divine for any land in the sea of stars you crossed.

Venti’s viridescent gaze envelops you in a fuzzy warm cloud as he opens the door. He is sleepily rubbing his eyes with his eyebrows furrowed. His expression softens as he sees you…and he takes both your hands in his, and he takes you inside. He can sense your despair…so he closes the door behind him with a gentle pat.

You see that he has no corset on and wears flowy pants that are a touch wrinkled. There are light sleep lines on his face and peaking out of his sleeves…the tell tale signs that he had just been in a deep nap.

“Hmm… you’re done early today…hmm…got any stories for me?”

His voice is so husky…and you can hear his exhaustion.

He holds his hands out to you with a soft smile, sensing you could really use an ear.

The hug you give the archon is almost enough to crush his own lungs.

“Hmph~ oof!”

his unbuttoned shirt is now covered in your tears as you cry into his chest, squeezing into his soft waist as if it is your life-line.

“Mmmm? Mmm…”

His heart breaks when he realizes you’re crying. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing deep circles in your back and nuzzling the top of your head.

He lets out a large sigh, and it feels as if his body is deflating like an anemo slime.

“Windblume…oh, my sweet little Windblume…” he whispers softly into your hair, leaving kisses in between.

He knows why you’re being like this…and truly, he does understand, as much as he’d prefer if you weren’t worrying so much.

“I know. I know…but I’m okay. She’s all gone…shes not gonna hurt us anymore…she’s not gonna hurt you, hurt…hurt me…”

He feels you squeeze him tighter, and he hears your little hiccups. You’re crying harder now…

“Windblume… I’m fine…I’ll be fine…I’m recovering, mein liebling, I promise you…bit by bit…”

He keeps rubbing your back, taking deep, steady breaths. He continues whispering sweet comforts as he holds you for a while, rocking you back and forth as he leans his body against the wall.

After a while of standing, Venti feels a bit weak…he may have recovered a lot, but he still needs a bit more time.

“Come with me, love…”

Gently, he leads you to the fluffy chair he begged you for a while ago from the Cats Tail in the corner. He plops down with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and leaning back.

“Ahhh…”

…

The bard opens his eyes, a bit upset that you haven’t joined him yet. He finds you standing there hesitantly, shyly watching over him while your eyes still sparkle with tears.

“Liebling…” He beckons, chuckling to lighten both your moods a little.

He reaches for your arm, and gently pulls you into his lap. He feels your hesitation, knowing that you’re scared even sitting in his lap could make things worse for him. He reassures you that this is oh so far from the truth.

“Uh-uh, no no no…I want you here with me…It’s okay…you make me feel better…”

He takes you in his arms once more, making sure you’re cozy in his lap.

“There we go…all comfy and cozy.”

He kisses your cheeks and your eyelids, as if he’s kissing your tears away.

You can tell he’s still lethargic based on the weight of his kisses…

“Now it’s my turn to suffocate you, hehe…”

He squeezes you to him, letting your head rest on his heart. It beats so steadily and slowly, like a gentle bass drum.

You sit like this for a while, You staring up at him, his chest he offers as your pillow as he takes his time kissing all over your face.

Naturally, despite all the worry you had, and still have, his viridescent gaze is so calming and soothing that you feel yourself growing sleepier and sleepier, much to his satisfaction. But…he sees that you’re still trying to fight it off, even when you’re safe in his arms and you can sleep. All this worrying about him… it made him sad, knowing that you probably were getting much less sleep than he was…

“My little warrior…you’ve been so worried about me…you’ve been so exhausted…you don’t need to hide that from me…” He sighs, moving the hair out of your face that just keeps coming back and hiding your precious eyes from him.

“…you know…I’m not quite used to someone being so concerned for my well-being…you remember that?”

You nod, and he purses his lips.

“I-I know…I know I worry you…” he continues softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“And as much as I want to give you a little bop on the head and tell you to stop that…”

He gives you a bop on the nose, hoping he can get you to giggle for him. Maybe just a crack of a smile even.

“That means…I’d have to stop getting worried with your adventures…I-I know, my Windblume…it may seem like you’ve seen just about everything…can do anything…but there’s always a part of me that’s just terrified…so scared you won’t come back to me…”

He tips your chin back up to him.

“But…you always manage to find a way back… Back to me…don’t you?” He smiles, bringing his nose closer to yours.

“I’ll even bet that you could be cursed by an evil sorceress on your travels, doomed to be an insect forever…”

Your eyes widen. You’d seen much worse, but nobody had done that…

“But…then I’d find a certain pretty little butterfly on my nose as I wake up from an afternoon nap…somehow, somewhere…”

You raise an eyebrow. You suppose you’re the pretty little butterfly in question…

He chuckles deeply, his chest vibrating against you.

“In other words…no matter how much I worry about you…somehow, even if it’s through a single thread of hope…I know that you’ll end up okay…right? Somehow…I really don’t know yet. You still truly amaze me…”

You giggle at the expression on his face.

“And…do I amaze you?”

You nod, a cute little blush on your face.

“Hmm…ok, then…let me amaze you with how, no matter how much you keep worrying about little old me…I’ll always be with you…and I’ll always find my way back to you…even if it’s just a tiny gust of wind…know that it’s me…do you understand, Liebling?”

You just smile, imagining to yourself how that would work. The bard takes that as a yes.

“Besides…you and I both know I’ve seen the rear end of much worse than this…and maybe…just maybe…I’m a little stronger than I’m given credit for…”

There’s a bit of bitterness tinged in his soft expression and tone…but it’s definitely not directed at you. That person is a pile of ashes now.

“Hmm.” He clears his throat. “So…”

He leans in to whisper into your ear. His tone lowers at least an octave.

“Trust me.”

It’s not a question. It’s not a request.

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes enveloping yours. Your lips are almost touching, and you feel his breath on yours.

“Trust. Me…”

He closes the fragment of space between your lips. It starts out soft and sweet, but his kiss becomes heavier as he puts one arm around the small of your waist to keep your fellow sleepy self from slipping, and the other on your cheek.

He keeps kissing you, breathing the same mantra into you every time your lips part- “Trust me.”

You slip your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“I love you…I love you so much, mein liebling…I love you in a way that even a poet as myself couldn’t describe without making an utter fool of himself…”

His cheeks, already rosy, grow redder and redder and hotter everytime your lips touch and twist. You get so lost in this lush little wonderland that you feel you’re going to fall, even in his hold. The sensation startles you, and you panic. You gasp, clinging onto the fabric of his shirt. He lets out a whimpery and whiny groan.

“Oh…perhaps this isn’t quite the best idea, is it?”

He sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face.

You nod bashfully, an apology forming on your tongue. You slowly begin sliding off his lap, but his grip on your waist tightens.

“I had wanted to try and get out of bed today…maybe be useful and show you some of the poetry I had penned…but maybe…just maybe…”

There’s a gleam in his eye. It’s that gleam.

“Hmm…yep. Not today. Back to bed!”

You find yourself slung over his shoulder as he makes way back to the bed. Before you can scold him for obvious reasons, he’s already tossed you onto the bed, and the mattress is springing underneath his weight as he climbs onto the bed himself, looming on top of you.

He laughs as he ensnares you underneath him, your arms crossed and shaking your head. Your face is priceless, and he’s sure the winds of the far flung past, present, and future will never, ever forget it.

He feels a bit dizzy now…to not even his own surprise, so he flops down beside you, making the mattress bounce even more.

“Ahhh…that’s more like it…”

He weaves an arm under your body and around you to pull you closer to him.

“Now…where were we…oh, yes…”

You lean in for another kiss. You’re left hanging for a bit, and you can hear the smirk he’s wearing.

You open your eyes with a pout.

“Oh…don’t be like that…besides…aren’t we forgetting something? Hmm?”

He brings his braid to your face and brushes it against your cheeks and makes it do a little dance on your nose. He bops you on the nose once he’s done with the little dance.

Of course you have to undo his braids. Of course you do.

“There’s my Windblume…”

(is that angsty enough)

[perlen-gold]

Sensuous Writing prompts

I've searched for some inspiring writing prompts apart from the typical ones today and haven't found any good lists so far - though I'm sure there are superb ones out there! - so I'm creating my own.

Feel free to add your own ideas! 💜

Colors

coral

amber

scarlet

emerald

iris

lavender

ash

amethyst

mahagony

raven

grape

violet

indigo

azure

cobalt

cerulean

lapis

ebony

arctic

ocean

ivory

gold

argent

bronze

chartreuse

orche

saffron

jade

alabaster

burnt umber

tangerine

fire

basil

charcaol

chili

ruby

caramel

plum

porcelain

frost

lime

moss

mulberry

coal

silver

azure

jungle

raven

Scents

fresh

fruity

earthy

aromatic

redolent

dusty

fragrant

pungent

stale

faint

sharp

whispy

piquant

misty

heady

crisp

airy

redolent

smoky

acid

acrid

savory

tangy

cloying

biting

thick

heavy

rosy

woody

springy

incense-like

Taste

spicy

bitter

sweet

zesty

sugary

flavory

savory

fruity

spicey

juicy

salty

bland

rich

burnt

sour

tart

buttery

peppery

smokey

mild

tangy

tender

creamy

crunchy

fizzy

chewy

stale

tangy

minty

herbal

ripe

Touch

smooth

silky

soft

light

supple

tender

gentle

prickly

hard

thick

heavy

sticky

rough

spiky

bumpy

abrasive

rugged

crisp

grainy

icy

scorching

numb

stiff

sharp

pointy

feathery

foamy

fluffy

metallic

knobbed

lacy

malleable

sandy

thorny

glacial

Sound

resonant

melodious

husky

velvety

raucous

vociferous

hoarse

dissonant

raspy

discordant

mellifluous

screechy

uproarious

speechless

tuneful

harmonious

explosive

thunderous

penetrating

tumultuous

creaky

tranquil

muted

piercing

pleasing

silent

Light & Dark

bright

radiant

lucid

clear

pale

fulgent

vivid

sparkling

glowing

lucent

vibrant

blazing

brilliant

incandescent

fair

dark

opaque

sombre

caliginous

dim

deep

obscure

dun

bleak

somber

dusky

murky

tenebrous

gloomy

shaded

cloudy

darksome

sunless

[kdram-chjh]

Cdrama: Ashes of Love / Heavy Sweetness, Ash-like Frost (2018)

Mi primer Drama chino, #AshesOfLove #luoyunxi #runyu #denglu #xufeng #yangzi #jinmi #Shorts

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/pLkbDAfU0G4

[enby-axels]

i cant hate suihe bc i love looking at wang yifei's gorgeous insanely beautiful face

[palehorsemen]

[electricsoul-rpg]

fc: Yang Zi (杨紫)

ethnicity: Han Chinese

[emulation-0]

ty @cursedvibes for tagging :)

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

After-Hours (Reigen & Mob):

“Whatever you want, Mob. You did a great job today,” Reigen says. Shigeo thinks about it for a moment, and then, “Can we get korokke?”

“Yeah,” Reigen smiles and flips open his phone, likely searching up an open stand. It’s a warm smile, filled with things like care and exhaustion and maybe a little hesitation. Shigeo knows it’s not exactly a filling meal. But it’s warm outside, and maybe some apartments have lights strung on their window sills. It’s a korokke kind of night.

“Yeah,” Reigen says again, snapping his phone closed and sighing, not offensively. Shigeo thinks he’s not just going to get korokke, but that’s alright. His master is a nice guy.

“Thank you, Reigen-shishou…” he starts once more and hears a confused hum in response. “I appreciate you a lot.”

He feels a coarse hand on his head ruffling his hair and hears rather than sees the shaky grin on Reigen’s face, the warmth in his voice as he replies, “I appreciate you too, kid.”

The train click-clacks on the rails.

It slows to a halt.

They get off at their stop.

Above their heads, a city bird in flight.

before-the-storm-bloom (Uroyuki):

Really, she could walk away. She can. She chose this life to go against every ideology she was forced to follow a thousand years ago. Rebellion. Refusal. Glory. Life. These are her desires, and she has no intention of letting go. It doesn’t seem, though, that Yuki cares. There isn’t any indication the other wants to seize those opportunities from her rather than a transaction of aid. An alliance. Not servitude. Living for herself. The taste of the rosewater sky is sweet on her tongue. “Alright,” she concedes, and the waves in her ribs calm to lapping waters as Yuki hollers in excitement. She turns and Yuki follows, chattering a mile a minute. “Hey, aren’t you cold? Take my jacket, I don’t need it. Aw, hey, it looks really good on you! What’s your favorite food? We should go eat something. I’m sure there are some shops out here that haven’t been obliterated…” Takako rolls her eyes. The jacket is warm.

oh, ashes, ashes, dust to dust (Nobamaki):

Her pocket buzzes over and over again, the uncomfortable sensation tickling her thigh. She knows the day as November 27, a kind of Friday she might've waited for eagerly a month ago, an afternoon spent doing stupid shit. The chill seeps through her shirt, relenting its force to her; it’s getting colder by the day and she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t pick up her phone, hardly registers it over the crackle of flames and the crash of waves in her mind. Maki's bones are made of iron and her muscles of steel. They are constantly destroying and remaking themselves with every curse she exorcises, her sword heavy in her hand. She's made painfully aware of it when she feels the thrumming of blood and hears her silent breaths. It's all a reminder of the spirit resting inside her, the spirit she couldn't save. It's all a reminder of the love that she lost and things that burn.

light of a new morning (Tsumiki-centric):

But it's a nice feeling to be honest, for once. And rain would feel nice against the strange burning sensation in her hands. It would clear her disjointed thoughts as all she can seem to do is cry and cry and cry, and it would hurt after and it would hurt all the while but she's been hurting all this time, too, anyway. She was a normal person then and a sorcerer now, bearing witness to all the atrocities anyone would never hope to see. She's lost her sibling to boot. What kind of life is this? Nothing makes sense anymore. But the sun rises higher into the sky and the frost melts into gradually burning grass. Nobody can wish for something out of their control and the sun will continue to bear down on them, dispelling the clouds until nature decides to take up its cycle; evaporating, condensing, and raining down on the earth. The icy droplets will moisten the dirt and soothe the burning flora, and they will spill a slow-sinking river into the many gravestones at Jujutsu High as everything dies into the winter and comes alive again in the spring, the rain and sun and sky smiling all the while. "I'm glad you're here, Tsumiki nee-chan," the other boy whispers. "I'm glad you were born. And I think I can be glad I was born, too, if it means that we can be friends in this world. Maki-san would love to be your cousin, and Kurusu would love to meet you." In a quieter, softer voice, like Yuuji is trying to convince himself, too, "I don't think we all have to exist for a reason. I think we were all born by chance and we happened to be here at the same time, even if it was the wrong time... but if we were able to smile and laugh in this life, then maybe... maybe... it wasn't so bad."

this tired old machine is a-rumbling (Higuruma & Nanami):

The blond offered half of his casse-croûte, which Higuruma refused politely. Despite his plans for the afternoon, he trailed after the man when he turned to walk away, like a stolen habit of someone else. It almost felt natural for him to do so. "I used to frequent another bakery," the salaryman shared as he tore off a piece of his lunch. "I haven't been there in quite some time, but this one is almost as good." "I assume it is. You don't look nearly as tired as you did before." The salaryman chuckled dryly at the comment, shaking his head. "Is that so?" "Isn't it?" The younger man exhaled hard and stared at the bread between his hands. Higuruma couldn't help but notice the man hunching over slightly, his posture just one angle less than perfect. "It's like you described, Higuruma-san. We work in an endless, rotating machine that only makes us suffer to serve those at the top. I abandoned my previous job and chose the lesser of two evils. This time, though, it's a certainty I'll die in the process." "Why would you make that decision?" He smiled, a near-invisible curl of his lip. "For the same reason you chose public defense. There is a child in my care, now, and I won't allow him to suffer at the hands of the higher-ups." "That's pretty respectable, ex-salaryman." "Please don't call me that." "You never gave me a name." He paused, as if contemplating, before revealing, "My name is Nanami."

keep running for the sink but the well is dry (Maki & Mai):

And Maki wanted to apologise, in this split second stretched into time forever. She wanted to say sorry for everything, step into that ocean and wallow in its sadness, for everything she missed when Mai was alive and everything she lost. But this was a promise she would keep, no matter what. So the spirits are exorcised. So her father's skull is split in two. So Maki doesn't cry… … and sets fire to everything else.

tagging: anyone who wants to !! :))