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clavis-baby · 3 years

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Songs that You would listen to After a Breakup with The Brothers

(Lucifer,Mammon,Satan,Asmo)

I’m so sorry I was listening to reckless and it made me feel something (also I’ve never dated anyone sooo shhh)

Also I tried to add at least 3/4 to every brother but I realized they all had a Olivia Rodrigo song so sorry about that also I tried not cross over the same songs 😅

Also Spotify Playlist!!!

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Lucifer

enough for you - Olivia Rodrigo

Okay so first Olivia track honestly I know we all cried to her whole album don’t deny it but essentially I felt that with the lyrics I wore makeup when we dated“'Cause I thought you'd like me more If I looked like the other prom queens” and “Tried so hard to be everything that you liked” I feel like Lucifer would expect that his lover to be perfect honestly this song really would work well with both of Satan and Lucifer so deciding between them was pretty hard but the pushing point for me to put this with Lucifer was the lyric “But I don't think anything could ever be enough”

Without me - Halsey

(Ugh I love Halsey so much and her baby soon!!!) Anyway!! For Lucifer I really think that his pride would’ve gotten in the way of all of his relationships he’s ever had but “Feeling so high but too far away to hold me You know I'm the one who put you up there Name in the sky Does it ever get lonely?” Just screams Lucifer and how the chorus keeps on saying “I said I'd catch you if you fall” ahh perfect (could also work for Asmo)

I knew you were trouble - Taylor Swift

Won’t lie but embarrassed that I choose this song but it works for Lucifer sooo whatever but the chorus really is a fairly good start I feel like anyone who has a brain (even tho MC really doesn’t) dating Lucifer wouldn’t be particularly 100% safe but whatever he’s most people’s favorites again I used to love this song but don’t anymore so when I looked up songs about break ups (yes I did that) and Trouble came up I relistened and with these lyrics I had to include it No apologies “He'll never see you cry Pretends he doesn't know That he's the reason why”

Let Me down Slowly - Alec Benjamin

Now if this was a cheating thing and he did cheat this would be like the absolute BEST SONG!! But tbh this is a pretty good song for any breakup I feel like…OH WELL! :) the first lyric FIRST LYRIC “This night is cold in the kingdom” I felt represented his pride idk how to explain but idk T-T I can explain the rest tho >~< “I once was a man with dignity and grace Now I'm slippin' through the cracks of your cold embrace” once again pride but with “Could you find a way to let me down slowly? A little sympathy, I hope you can show me” I really hc that almost with all the boys but especially with Lucifer they just would not care about cheating after they maybe got a rush would leave you instantly once that “rush” is/was gone

Mammon

(I’m a sucker for him im sorry I put all the most emotional songs with him)

Reckless - Madison Beer

This was the song that inspired this whole post!! (Sadly, it made me feel things) But this song really could be used for Belphie and maybe a hint of Asmo but Mammon was the first person I thought about when listening to this song so it’s mammon. Mammon I just feel like behind all the tunsdere act he really promises us so much like obviously the protection but Reckless just show us within the lyrics “I still have the letter you wrote When you told me that I was the only girl You'd ever want in your life” and even this lyric with his whole first man thing and even him asking us to come to him for protection “You might love her now, but you loved me first Said you'd never hurt me, but here we are” it just is so good 😭

Love me or leave me - little mix

So if you even skim through these Mammon songs and know about my posts I love him so much so even though what I said in Lucifers part about them not caring about cheating and stuff I feel like Mammon might care just because of how much he promises things also I read a lot of fanfics with what I just said “And you're turning away like you hate me Do you hate me? Do you hate me? Oh” tbh because of this lyric I did think for a moment to use this song for Satan but Uhhh this is really emotional song and I love my bby “Do you remember when you loved me once What happened? What happened? And you'd hold me here just because” LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME HERE!!!

Be Alright - Dean Lewis

This song I feel like was a bit more for me sooo yeah also remember what I said about how I hc that almost with all the boys that they just would not care about cheating after they maybe got a rush with you they would leave you instantly once that “rush” is/was gone wel I sort of want to believe mammon wouldn’t and his greed gets in the way (who am I kidding I’m just making excuses for my baby) but I’m going to continue on what I just said because Umm well I can do uh “You start to tremble and your voice begins to break You say the cigarettes on the counter weren't your friend's They were my mate's”

(I couldn’t find anymore songs that I felt that would fit him 😭)

Asmo

Ex best friend - Machine gun Kelly

When I was writing this originally there was going to be like 4 parts of all the characters but then once I realized how many songs and I couldn’t think of any for others and how I wanted to add an explanation I gave up on that but originally it was going to also be cheating songs, fall outs, then just aftermaths of breakup songs which to be honest this song really could fit with the after math and cheating songs I feel like Asmo and his SO are more likely a not able to quit each other sort of thing “We're both drunk on the elevator When I kissed you for the first time in New York City, uh” and even near the end of the first season the only little part we sort of get from character development from Asmo when we was drunk explains what he was sort of saying “I swear to God, I never fall in love Then you showed up, and I can't get enough of it I swear to God, I never fall in love I never fall in love, but I can't get enough of it First off, I'm not sorry I won't apologize to nobody You play like I'm invisible Girl, don't act like you ain't saw me” personally I do think that inside Asmo might be insecure and a bit sensitive on the inside but I could be wrong

When the party’s over - Billie Eilish

Wow I have the lyrics up and I just realized this 3 minute song has barley lyrics but the song still fits Asmo so.

traitor - Olivia Rodrio

Even tho that all these songs were on cheating I tend to hc that Asmo isn’t a huge fan of solo partnership because of the title avatar of lust so I feel like in maybe the beginning of a relationship he would promise to you that he would be there for you but would maybe end up not staying true to his words I forgot who but someone else explained why they don’t believe that Asmo wouldn’t be able to go with out having a Polly relationship

——-

I’ve had this in my drafts for so long and wanted to post this but at this point I’ve just can’t add anymore so this is my lazy part

Boys like you - Anna Clendening

Satan

Again I’m lazy rn but I wanted Satans part to show just pure madness and anger but also as time progress just sadness for Satans pure side also anything that had to do with books or a story I added for u know Satan loving books

I’m not mad - Halsey

Moral of the story - Ashe

Blue - Madison Beer

#obey me #obey me shitpost #shall we date #shall we date lucifer #leviathan #obey me shall we date #lucifer #obey me beelzebub #shall we date mammon #obey me asmo #shall we date asmodeus #shall we date satan #Spotify

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larkace · 3 years

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Robber Claws

hi guys! i've read a bunch of your fics and got inspired so i wrote a thing! enjoy ;) also, it's pretty long so...buckle up! love yall <3

The criminals lurk in the mist, invisible, but Sofiya Pavlichenkov knows they’re there.

She’s perched in the Lookout’s nest of her Warship in Fourth Harbour, pretending to read the documents her first mate, Kastor, has just handed to her. But her blue coat is flapping in the wind and her papers keep jostling and she’s being watched, all of which is rather uncomfortable.

Idly, Sofiya wonders what the criminals might want. A smuggling, perhaps? Out and away from stinking, crawling, loathsome Ketterdam?

Sofiya hates this city. His city. She misses Ravka, her homeland- the Little Palace.

I miss my bloody Kefta, Sofiya thinks darkly as another bought of wind spirals harshly through the Harbour. The blue coat she wears is a subtle nod to her Tidemaker status, but it’s a sad, thin piece of cloth compared to the grandeur of the Fabrikator-made Keftas. But Sofiya can’t wear her Kefta, not if she wants to blend in in Kerch- a lesson she learned long ago…

Old enemies, Sofiya. Old enemies, but not withered grudges.

Huffing out a sigh that would make Zoya Nazyalensky proud, Sofiya rises gracefully to her feet.

They’re coming. She can feel it; they’re making their way towards the ship. They don’t have to be rowdy to intimidate, that’s for sure - or to make a crowd of Merchants and Thieves part like the sea almost immediately.

Sofiya reaches up behind her head and loops her hand around a piece of knotted rope; takes a deep, steadying breath.

And she steps off the platform into the open air.

For a moment, she catches on the air as if a Squaller has caught her on a buffering breeze, but sure enough, gravity kicks in.

Sofiya welcomes the feeling of her stomach in her throat as the fall takes hold, zipping her past the sails. It's good preparation, anyway, for the three dark figures moving up the docks towards her.

As they near and Sofiya lands lightly on the deck, she confirms what she already knew: these were criminals. Her criminals.

The trio stops in front of her. They're all wearing black and gold - not a uniform exactly, but it’s a solid way to show your allegiance. None of their hands were visible, but if they were, Sofiya would find the Robber Claws emblem branded cleanly onto the backs of their knuckles. Their hoods are drawn up over their faces, but Sofiya can tell from their posture who she’s dealing with.

"Ah, Iseut," Sofiya says serenely, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The girl in the middle pulls down her hood, revealing shining blond hair, dark eyes, full lips. She doesn’t smile.

"Where have you been, Sofiya?" Iseut asks coolly.

"The Wandering Isle," Sofiya answers immediately, "I stopped at Os Kervo on my return to pick up some supplies. I'm only three days late, Is. Cut me some slack."

Iseut sighs, and suddenly looks less the badass, fake-waitress man-killer, and more the tired mother of a delinquent child. Sofiya feels a flicker of guilt.

She had stopped at Os Kervo for more than one reason. The "supplies" were crates upon crates of commandeered Fjerdan weapons and traps, intercepted by the First Army on their way to the Front Line. Sofiya had paid nothing to take them off the hands of the Ravkan soldiers, who honestly had no clue where to send them. What good were jerky Fjerdan guns to a sophisticated, well-oiled Second Army legion?

Sofiya could picture Zoya's face at the sight of the sad little weapons. Disgust and disdain, unshakable beauty - and perhaps just a little bit of pride that her friend had been the one to collect the Fjerdan cargo. Sofiya would work on selling it all later. She'd dump the Grisha traps in the ocean, though. Drown them like they deserved to be drowned.

"I am sorry, Iseut," Sofiya says, and her words aren’t mistruths.

"Don't apologise to me," Iseut says dismissively, "It’s your friends that were barely able to sleep the past few nights. You should talk to -"

"Destry," Sofiya's words mist the air like a fine rain, "I know."

One of the tall figures stood behind Iseut lowers her own hood. Lyra. Ly.

It made sense that the Robber Claws would send their best Bruisers to Fourth Harbour. Sofiya knew by the other Robber's posture that beneath the hood, she would find the face of Winter. But Winter wouldn't lower her hood in front of so many people, so Sofiya was content with what she could get.

"You really had Destry worried, Sof," Ly says, chastising.

"Destry can handle me being gone for weeks on end," Sofiya crosses her arms. She will not be guilt-tripped, "This job was half a week, and I was only a few days off schedule. I did tell Cherry that I'd be late." The words come out as a question.

None of them say anything.

Another flash of worry courses through Sofiya. Cherry Vlasova is a Heartrender, and one of Sofiya's closest friends. The message that Sofiya had forwarded was simple and concise: I'll be a few days late. Stopping at Os Kervo. Don't worry, no Fjerdans. Tell Destry -S.P

Had something happened to Cherry? She was an avid gossiper; her post box was always full of tip-offs (a useful source of information for the Robber Claws) but Sofiya was reliably informed that her letters were always placed on the top of the pile. Marked "URGENT."

"What happened? Is Cherry alright?" Sofiya demands.

Iseut holds up her palms, and they are callused and grease-marked. Sometimes Iseut is so well put together that Sofiya forgets she's a barmaid.

"Cherry is fine. But all our Grisha are shaken. Whilst you were away, there was an attack on the East Stave."

Sofiya's heart stops and restarts and stops again.

An attack. On the Grisha. And she wasn’t there to - to help, to defend-

"Destry," Sofiya breathes, "And Cherry - and Adali, Roza, Linnea, Yan, Anya- oh, Saints, was it the Fjerdans?"

There are many Grisha members of the Robber Claws. It was one of the reasons that Sofiya wanted to join them in the first place. If the Fjerdans had attacked -

"Everybody is fine," Ly says lowly, "We had Freya and May fixing people up as soon as we heard- and Lita, of course, but behind the scenes."

Freya and May- and even Lita, whose powers most of the gang didn't even know of. Grisha Healers. So people had been hurt.

"What. Happened." Sofiya growls, and Ly glares at her challengingly, fists clenching. The water beneath the decking froths and bubbles as Sofiya brings her own fists together, power surging pleasantly up her arms. If Ly wants a fight, she can have one.

"Calm down, both of you," Winter's smooth voice projects from under her hood. Despite the heavy fabric, her voice is clear and commanding. Sofiya takes a breath to compose herself.

"To answer your previous question: no. It wasn't the Fjerdans." Iseut says, "We don’t know what they were."

Sofiya's brow creases at the chime of fear in Iseut's voice. She's never seen the golden-haired barmaid afraid before.

It begins to rain softly, the pattering of droplets quiet against the wooden decking of the docks.

"We should go back to the Queen’s Head, Iseut," Ly suggests, referencing Iseut’s place of work. Iseut nods once, swiftly, and glances over Sofiya's shoulder at her warship.

"Do you need to...?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"KASTOR! IM GOING FOR A ROUND OF DAY-DRINKING!" Sofiya yells over the shoulder of her rain-splattered coat. She hears Ly chuckle as Kastor's scruffy head pokes out from a window.

He nods at Sofiya when he spots her, and she waves, assenting. Kastor would keep everything safe whilst she was gone. It was their unspoken agreement, unchanging and unwavering since the day they'd become crewmates.

Sofiya turns back to Iseut, Ly and Winter.

"Let's be on our way," she says, and lets her fellow criminals lead the way along the Harbour, her warship disappearing into the mist behind her.

~~~~

The mid-day slump of customers meant that the Robber Claws had the Queen’s Head pub all to themselves.

Iseut- who did not own the pub, but had put more work into it than the real owners ever did- had immediately trekked behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

"Want anything?" She asks, directing the question directly at Sofiya despite the equal presence of Ly- and Winter (who had lowered her hood slightly now that she was back on familiar ground, with familiar faces.) Bruisers didn’t drink on the job. It slowed reflexes.

"The story," says Sofiya firmly, "It a joke about the day-drinking. What happened?"

Iseut pours herself another whiskey and the quartet take a seat at a shady little circular table in a quiet corner. The murmurs of other Robber Claws members is enough to shelter their conversation from the group- despite Sofiya being sure she was the only one unaware of what had transpired the days she’d been gone.

As Iseut begins her story, with Winter and Ly regularly interjecting with additions, Sofiya feels horror and fear clamp down on her heart like a Fjerdan Grisha trap.

Iseut’s alluring voice weaves a tale of Komedie Brute actors in bloody masks, rose-painted rubble from an impossible explosion, and worst of all: Grisha. Dead Grisha, killed by creatures with screeching metal wings.

“Only a few of our Grisha were hurt,” Iseut sips her drink solemnly, “We took your advice of keeping them anonymous and undercover. We have Erin and our other spies out searching for answers at the embassies. I’m sure you’re just as eager to find out about the winged creatures as we are.”

Sofiya nods, “I am. Thank you for filling me in, Is, really. And to you, Ly, Winter. I know you don’t like going to far from the West Stave.”

The last comment was directed purely at Winter. It’s not a lie. Winter runs a dojo for training Kerch’s women to protect themselves from Barrel bosses and scum alike; she didn’t want her clients finding out about her… Robber side. Being a criminal wasn’t the most unintimidating, friendly persona to have when speaking with vulnerable women.

Sofiya respected Winter and her clean profession. It was hard to be so kind in the Barrel. And men were rarely kind to women at all.

Sofiya knew that first hand.

Shoving away the memories- blue eyes, dark hair, gorgeous smile, charming words and sharper wounds- Sofiya stands in one fluid movement.

“I’m going to find Destry,” she says. Iseut stands, Ly and Winter falling back to flank her again, and smiles. She’s beautiful, that is undoubtful, but the attacks- the sleazy men at the Queen’s Head, the strain of the city- it’s all gotten to her. Sofiya can see it.

This city is poison, thinks Sofiya as Iseut takes her hand and shakes it. Poison and rot.

“Destry will be in her rooms,” Ly supplies, and Sofiya nods at her once.

Sofiya grins brightly, hoping it covers her own weariness, and recites, “Fair winds.”

“Bright stars,” chorus her friends. Sofiya waves over her shoulder as she slips out of the bar and down an alley. Above her, a storm brews in the clouds.

Perhaps the stars would be out that night. It didn’t matter. Nobody in Kerch saw the stars anymore.

~~~~

On her way to Destry’s apartments, Sofiya ran into more members of the Robber Claws.

Malcolm and Firefly, who lived together in shared housing in the Anvil, were shopping for new blacksmiths’ equipment. They each provided invaluable services to the Robber Claws, crafting flawless weapons second only to that of Fabrikators. They greeted her with a wink each. Sofiya moved on swiftly after trading them a Wandering Isle-crafted staff for twenty Kruge.

She picked up some baked goods on the way. She would need them. Destry- who had been her closest friend since she arrived in Kerch- was an Inferni. Fire-bringer; with an even fierier temperament. Rumour had it- and Sofiya knew the rumours were true- that Destry had been attending the University of Ketterdam when she’d heard a boy make a lude comment during an exam and lit the paper on fire with her mind. And that paper had been thrown. At the boy’s face. Ouch.

Sofiya had been nursing a whiskey in a tavern when she’d first heard the story recounted. She’d leapt up from her seat, slithered into an alley and held the recounter at knifepoint until he’d told her Destry’s name.

They’d become fast friends upon meeting. Sofiya had been in awe of someone so rebellious, so brave as to set fire to an exam paper, and Destry- well. Destry had laughed for hours when Sofiya had told her how she’d first come across her name.

But now, staring up at the ornate windows of Destry’s apartment, Sofiya feels unsure. She didn’t mean to worry her friend. Iseut had explained that her letter must have gotten lost during the riots. Sofiya cursed the post offices. So there was a deadly storm- your motto is still “We always deliver.”

Despite her trepidation, Sofiya’s feet were swift on the stairs. She had a key to the apartment, and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and slip inside without a sound, content to watch Destry whilst she worked; even if only for a moment.

Leaning against the wall, Sofiya’s brow creases as she surveys her friend. Destry’s hair is plaited carefully into two loops at the nape of her neck, hazel strands freeing themselves gently against her light brown skin. She’s stood facing away from Sofiya, arms circled in rings of fire. The shirt she wears is Fabrikator-made; the flames don’t take to the papery material.

Sofiya takes a step forward, and pointedly drops her bag of confectionary on the floor. It lands with an audible thump.

Destry whirls, the fire at her wrists whirling into an inferno ready to strike- until Destry sees who is at her door.

“Shouldn’t have hesitated, Des,” Sofiya said weakly, “I could have put a knife in your back.”

The shock on Destry’s face dissolves. Her face splinters down the middle. Licks of fire at her fingertips wilt into ash in a pile at her boot-clad feet.

“You would have put out the flames with your water, I’m sure,” Destry says, and then flies across the room towards Sofiya, wrapping her in a tight, smoke-smelling embrace.

Sofiya would normally pull back. “Don’t be too open with your heart, Des,” she’d say, “People use your loves against you here.” But Sofiya couldn’t bring herself to say those things. The weight of the week comes crashing down on her head like a tsunami.

Fjerdan traps on my boat, attacks on my gang, tensions in Ravka boiling over… where’s safe anymore, except here?

Destry pulls back slightly to scan Sofiya’s face. She has a smear of oil on her cheek. Destry’s eyes are filled with fire, burning like an ember beneath onyx waters.

“Where. Have. You. Been.”

“Destry-”

“Don’t you make excuses with me, Pavlichenkov,” Destry snarls, “You didn’t warn us you were late! I couldn’t sleep- neither could Cherry!”

“I-”

“We thought you’d been caught, Sofi,” Destry cries, “We thought the Fjerdans had got you! I thought you died.”

The word is ugly and big in the room, choking Sofiya’s response. Death. Dying. Dead. And by Fjerdan hands. It wasn’t so rare for travelling Grisha to be caught and sent to the pyres.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya says, because it’s the only thing there is, “I wrote- I really did, don’t look at me like that- according to Lyra, there was a storm in the True Sea. The letter sunk with the ship.”

“You’re a Tidemaker,” Destry huffs.

“Yes, which means I manipulate water,” Sofiya says, “Not stop it from overturning ships with important letters on them. Destry, I’m sorry. I brought waffles.” She offers the last sentence like a defendant on trial with the Stadwatch; one final piece of evidence to prove her innocence.

Destry brightens immediately, “Well, in that case.”

The pair of them set to work, shoulders just brushing in the cramped kitchenette. Sofiya’s array of pasties are laid out over two plates, which they lay on their laps. Destry’s job for the Robber Claws is, in few words, that of the logician. Papers are scattered all over her apartment, covered in detailed blueprints and scale drawings of buildings all over Ketterdam, Fjerda and even- rarely- Shu Han. There were no drawings of Ravka.

If Iseut had ever commissioned a robbery in Ravka, Sofiya didn’t know about it. It would be…unwise to hit out at the Ravkans, with so many Grisha in the gang.

But Destry’s job was essential, so Sofiya couldn’t complain about the lack of trays to put their plates on. Such things were useless for such an incredible mind as Destry’s.

“So,” says Destry conversationally as she lights the fireplace with a casual flick of her wrist, “How were the Wandering Isles?”

Sofiya says nothing, massaging her temples lightly. Destry manages a laugh.

“Your silence is telling, Sofi,” she warns.

Sighing quietly, suddenly feeling very tired, Sofiya says, “It was crawling with our Fjerdan friends from the North. ‘Peaceful’ Fjerdans.”

Destry spins, and she is outlined with the fire. We’re opposites, Sofiya thinks. Fire and Water.

“You didn’t-” Destry begins, horrified.

Silently, solemnly, Sofiya raised her palms to face the ceiling. Destry reaches out.

Her gentle fingers trace the scars there. Deep and painful and barely healed, the scars run red against Sofiya’s pale flesh.

“Sofiya…” Destry breathes.

“It was the only way to push my power down,” Sofiya whispers. She’s rarely so emotive, but Destry is someone she trusts with everything. It was a weakness, some would say, but they were each powerful Grisha. They were Gods in a world of men. And they would not kneel “If I hadn’t, I would’ve been caught. It was a price to pay.”

Grisha shone like lighthouses around people. In Kerch, in Ketterdam, it was safer for them- especially ones loyal to a gang, as Destry and Sofiya were. But in the Wandering Isles; where Fjerdans passed through on their way to Novyi Zem, where gang affiliations mattered less than the colour of your eyes… Sofiya tells herself she had no choice.

“Sofiya, you’ve opened up old wounds here,” Destry says, tracing the marred skin of her palms again, “You need a healer. Freya, Lita, May-”

“Wouldn’t understand,” Sofiya finished, pulling her hands out of Destry’s and placing them carefully in her lap, obscuring them with her coat, “They’re healers, Des, not warriors- they’d go to Iseut.”

Iseut. Their unofficial leader, the founder, the lighthouse in raging seas. All of the Robber Claws seemed to be caught in her gravity. She was their sun. And Sofiya… well, Sofiya was the moon. Iseut would send her to a healer, one who would stop her travels. One who would commandeer her Warship, and Kastor… health of the mind was important to Iseut.

But Sofiya was not damaged, as they would tell her. She was not broken. Her mind was sound.

I did what I had to do, to survive.

But Destry can see through it all. Through the mask, through her eyes, right to her bones. Through to her lying, treacherous heart. We’re all broken in the end.

But.

Oh, Destry, Destry, please…

“I won’t tell her,” Destry promises, “But I’d like you to know that I think you should. Tell her, that is- Iseut. She might help.”

“She might ship me back to Ravka,” Sofiya grumbles, biting into a toasty croissant.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.”

“You never know.”

“She’ll want you to heal, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Sofiya rolls her eyes, “But these wounds are of the flesh. The scars on my heart will never heal, not in this life Perhaps there will be mercy in the next, even for my rotten soul.”

“You sound like you’re auditioning for the Komedie Brute,” Destry laughs.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Sofiya crows.

“I can’t my dear, the money’s spent,” Destry choruses instinctively.

Sofiya wipes away an invisible tear, “Gorgeous! We’ll make an actress out of you, yet, Destry Clements.”

“Oh, you most certainly will not,” Destry huffs.

Their laughter fills the air, and Sofiya thinks that maybe there is hope for her rotten soul, after all.

~~~~

The man returns late from the pub wearing only one shoe.

A bottle drained halfway of mauve liquid dangles limply from his pale fingers. The veins in his foot are blue in the half-moon’s light.

He slurs a broken melody. She catches a few words as he passes below her on the street.

“Hmm… perish… light… air… fire… hell… hmmm…”

The man’s name is Danyl Harrop. And he is going to die tonight.

“Hmm… shadow… devil… rot… earth… sun… burn… lose….”

Harrop continues down the road, heedless of the mud on his bare foot. He'd be blackout drunk in the morning if he survived.

He wouldn’t.

Silent as a breeze, steps as soft as downy feathers, she leaps from the streetlight where she was perched.

She strikes.

She is ash and shadow. She is a storm of fire. She is vengeance.

She is death.

Harrop yelps as she pins him against the tree. His face is as white as the moon, with eyes like black craters.

“What’re you doi-” he slurs dazedly, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. He blubbers like a fish on land as he tries to shout for help.

“For King and Country,” says the girl. Stepping away from Harrop, she lets her power hold him against the tree, keeping his muscles upright. She surveys him like an artist would their unfinished masterpiece.

The girl whispers, “Sleep tight, Danyl.”

Flicking her wrist, she snaps his neck. He’s still alive, barely, so she latches on to what little of his mind there is left and strips it like an onion. For a man who is out so late, so drunk, on what the girl remembers as a work-day, he knows too much.

Secrets. They feed this girl, nourish her. There is a skip in her step as she turns away from Harrop; without her supporting his muscles, he collapses against the tree. She leaves his mind just as it goes dark.

There is no need to hide in the treetops upon her return to the city. It gleams just half a mile away, most of which is roiling seawater. As the girl wanders along the road back to Ketterdam, she finds Danyl Harrop’s shoe in a puddle of mud. The girl laughs at the sky. She flips a coin into the shoe, whispers a heartless prayer to her Saints, and moves on.

Back to Ketterdam. Back home.

~~~~

Ok, so that's that! I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger... I may have created a whole plot... so there might be some more coming soon!

all these excellent characters (save Sofiya, Danyl, Kastor and the girl at the end who kills Danyl- who has no name... yet *wink*) belong to the following:

Iseut is @littlegirldorothea's

Destry is @finnick-annie's (I may have made them besties👀👀)

Cherry is @brekkercookie's (they are ALSO besties👀👀 we have a trio omg)

Winter is @cressjacquine's

Lyra is @no-mourners-at-my-funeral's

Malcom is @blackpheonix’s

Firefly is @ask-shadowbon’s

Erin is @lightningboytytonjesper’s

Adali is @apple-bottom-jeansx’s

Roza is @vampire-rights’s

Linnea is @alonlyfangirl's

Yan is @lucentcorrigan’s

Anya is @queenlilith43’s

Freya is @smol-evil-gremlin’s

Lita is @the-whispers-of-moonlight’s

May is @saltyfortunes

and the "Fair winds, bright stars" motto as created by @spicy-tomato-sauce's

oh and the whole Grishaverse is the wonderful @lbardugo's <3

if I missed anyone or you want to tag anyone go ahead!

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maroonfairycherry · 3 years

Text

( forgot to post from my drafts ) It’s Pride🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 and Juneteenth; 🤎🖤if anyone feels like giving reparations to someone from a very forgotten group of Afro-diaspora people; I am Afro chicano/Mexican 🇲🇽 (AfroNative ) gay & trans masc 🏳️‍⚧️ and I have autism 😬& im in diaspora & I don’t have family just relatives ; I am very much poor here (and in my motherland I ain’t got no connections like that ) my indigenous ancestry is from the southwest Texas region/ 🇲🇽 ; I’m intergeneration-ally Afro indigenous ; currently I am a free lance artist ; who is trying to become financially stable ; so I really just try my best to get by.. and I wanna use this moment to spread awareness about black peoples in Mexico ; from a poem that I wrote :🎀🌺💝💖✨

Our 2nd president was a black man who freed us from Spain; yet tell me why my peoples are still in pain? 2015 is when blackness was legally recognized; all because of your white washed ego and pride; your ego is what makes my people flee yo ; so we gotta leave to a savage place that took a word for “black” and used it to degrade us n*gros ; we go from little villages without water to getting minimum wage dollars ; distressed displaced oppressed ; thinking when we come here we gonna be blessed; only to find out weve barely stepped up; still bottom of the barrel can’t fill our cups; hyper visible ; but invisible none the less; you ignorant to think we treated any better bc we “Latinx “ Spain enslaved 80% of the slave trade thats a fact : went from being ignored ; to being criminalized for being black... who do we turn to when the people that are supposed to be our community don’t has our backs!!!!!!??Latinx is a cult by default ; it never was a race; if you act too ethnic they’ll put you in your place; if We can’t exist safely with them? Where do we go? African Americans have tend to have our backs but don’t get it twisted it tho ; xenophobia & classism is so pervasive and so is fetishization; so it causes divisions & isolation, if my people have ptsd & aren’t in they right minds; why you keep asking for them to speak all the time ? Hyper visibility was just a coy to make African Americans into the white mans toys; given you the mic so you look like a tool ; so when you speak white people think all black ppl look like we fools. They take our words coming from a place of hurt acting like it’s from god; using it the venom to manipulate others ; even when we tell them to stop. I know what they’re doing ; I know their tricks; I grew up here so I KNOW they ain’t slick ; the Spanish made the Blueprint for racism ; just because I’m an immigrant; don’t make me dumb. I know how they think ; I know when they’re in synch; both using my peoples as indentured servants is sadistic don’t you think? ; my black ancestors stolen from their motherland; now their descendants are picking fruit and selling it tourists in the side of the road to feed their fam.

#BLM #original poem #afromexican

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botheredbuck · 3 years

Text

hey @raekenstheos - merry christmas from your secret santa!! this was both a real joy and somewhat stressful to write (mainly because i am a dumb bitch and i wrote like half of it today) but i honestly love coffee shop aus, and im so glad you do too! i really hope you enjoy lovely, and have a lovely christmas x

something to rely on - ao3

There’s a little cafe down the road. One that’s a little tucked away, just off a street that feels too busy for it, where so many people walk past it without a thought. It’s almost as though it’s invisible, only seen by those who truly want to and missed by those moving too quickly through their day. It’s like another world, one that radiates homely warmth and always smells like bacon and fresh coffee and pastries baked on little trays and displayed in glass cases with little handwritten labels. It’s an oasis, somewhere that feels so out of place in a little borough of London but it’s there, and it stands, waiting for someone to need it. And evidently so many do, because there’s always someone sat at one of the little tables crammed into the space, a student nursing their fifth coffee and looking barely alive, or a couple holding hands across wood, space in between them but none all the same.

It’s not exactly a classy little place - some of the paint on the sign outside chips a little in the vicious wind and rain and there’s a stain from where a bird’s shit on the window and someone’s not cleaned it off quick enough. It doesn’t make you want to leave though - somehow it’s all of those things that make the place more endearing, make it feel more honest and true to a life that’s always moving too fast not to leave you with a couple of scars.

The inside shows the same kind of love, too. There’s tables scattered around the place, mostly little ones just big enough for a small family cuddled close together, or a couple of students on a first date. The walls are simple white but are covered in little bits of art, framed pictures that tell stories that maybe are long forgotten, but they don’t lose their beauty. Simple light shades hang from the ceiling and there’s a tiny candle at each table, flickering slightly even in the fading daylight, and a couple of flowers in a vase, splashing colour and life. Behind it all, there’s a small counter, curled into one corner and covered in glass cases and menu signs and leaflets for all kinds of local clubs and fundraisers. There’s even a little pride flag hanging from one corner, and a sign written in delicate handwriting just below it that reads everyone welcome .

Behind the counter sits a tall man, all awkward limbs and carefully styled brown hair and sunshiney smiles, dressed in an apron over a shirt with a carefully pressed collar and jeans. He sits there, a book in his hands when the place isn’t busy, when it seems no one new needs the sanctuary at that moment. Although, if you ever asked him, Callum would never admit that that’s what his place was. He’d blush and say that it’s nothing, really, just another little cafe , too humble. Secretly though, it feels like acknowledgement of everything that he’s out into the place when someone says something like that, or offers him that little smile that says so much, or comes back to the cafe, over and over again.

It feels something like that with the man that Callum spots outside.

It’s the middle of the day, a normal tuesday afternoon, when he sees him for the first time. He’s just put down his copy of Aristotle and Dante , a book that’s been well worn out by this point, to serve the older man that comes in every tuesday at the same time and orders a simple tea and a scone and calls him son with such a kind voice that it makes him shiver. He’s about to go back to his book, settling into the little stool that he keeps behind the counter when it’s calm like this and he’s not rushed back and forth, when the movement of his coat catches Callum’s eye. It flies about in the bitter wind - a wind that makes it all too clear that the holiday season is fast approaching - and almost collides with the window, since the man is stood just at the edge of it. He’s poised like he’s waiting for something, and hunched like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It intrigues Callum but he’s always been too curious for his own good, and a man poised and waiting for something or nothing isn’t exactly a rare sight in London. So he leaves the man be, and scolds himself whenever his eyes drift back to him.

#ballum secret santa #ballum #ballum fic #eastenders #ben mitchell #callum highway #ao3 update #ao3 link #ao3 writer

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sothischickshe · 4 years

Note

DVD commentary for time to refrain 1/2: Rio’s not actually saying it, but she’s certain he’s thinking it. Despite all his mockery and lording, it’s not really an angle he’s ever worked with her. Not in the before, anyway. And if there’s a man on the goddamn planet she could take an accusation of irrationality or excessive emotionality – even a dreaded calm down – from, surely it’d be the one she shot. But. But. Beth acknowledges that she can’t.

2/2: Because she’ll let ‘em all undervalue and belittle her, play it to her advantage again and again. Rio though, she can’t stand the idea of him not recognising that she’s here, a force to be reckoned with, capable as him.

so in terms of why I wrote it and what I was thinking about, I suppose as with the whole of the story, i was obsessed with understanding how beth and rio’s dynamic could would should play out in s3. in a way i think this bit is kind of the crux of the beth characterisation in the story, and the further we got into s3, the happier i was with how i’d written her here (hiring a hitman, robbing rio again, throwing pool balls around etc). i just really love that beth wields and weaponises her invisibility, but also cannot stand rio ignoring her for even half a fucking second.

this bit comes after beth’s totally lost it and yelled at him, although she’s trying to play at being meek and obedient (which i think is kind of what we saw this season) and i just love her being bad at it?! like she’s good at it with dean, she’s good at it with strangers, she was good at it with turner for a time, but she is horrid at hiding her rage gremlin tendencies from rio. partly bc he makes her so angry, but also bc he’s seen beneath the mask enough times and why would he be buying it.

and obvi i love the extended sting throughout the show of rio listening to her, but definitely in the aftermath of the shooting you’d expect everything to be different, and their dynamic kind of in flux, and beth to have no idea what to expect from him. and i particularly wanted beth to hate the idea of him belittling her, the way dean does and turner did, in a specifically gendered way. which i think rio does sometimes! (it takes balls to do what i do; be the king/kill the king; stay in your lil lane; big girl panties etc).

so like the worst thing she can imagine him doing in the face of her outburst is minimising it, calling her irrational and emotional (which i think would be v tender spots for her bc i. i think she kind of prides herself on being able to be detached and pragmatic ii. i imagine she’s replayed what happened with the shooting a lot and told herself she did the right thing the logical thing but there’s still those niggles she’s ignoring iii. it’s such a typically gendered approach that im guessing she’s heard from dean a gazillion times). And he does minimise it, but not like that, he basically just ignores her (which is worse!!!! if beth is spoiling for a fight you’re better off just giving her one methinks!!!).

like, i think rio’d be genuinely less interested in anything she has to say than in the past, but also v concerned with not giving the impression that he’s interested too, attempting to forge a new dynamic that’s caustic, where he’s giving her far less leeway. (and also who the fuck is he gonna go around telling they’re emotional or illogical besides his own reflection, i mean cmon). but like he totes does take the opportunity to be hurtful, just in a v different way. (and i guess his pov on why etc is explored more in a time to every purpose.)

so the ‘lording’ is quite a specific word choice, with sort of intentional gendering of their dynamic from beth’s perspective. and i guess ‘force to be reckoned with’ kind of matches all her windy (whipping; cyclone) behaviour/thoughts later (there’s a lot of aggressive turning around in this series - it’s named for turn turn turn!). Once again I think a sad lack of awful puns here though :(

(also beth, honeypie, capable as rio does not seem like a compliment... you wanna hand someone your only weapon and taunt them into shooting you multiple times too...? the Idiocy, oof)

Send me a snippet and I’ll lament the lack of actual terrible puns in it

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #on writing #LOOK I KNOW IVE WRITTEN ACTUAL BAD PUNS I HAVE #AT LEAST THREE #i mean... not to say that rio yelling at beth is all that different from him yelling at his own relfection tbh #huh i do say specific a lot #i am enjoying working on part 3 :)#*reflection #JEEZ

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virgilantejustice · 4 years

Text

Satisfy me

I've always associated this one song from the musical 'once' with roceit, so i listened to it on repeat and wrote whatever came into my head, as ya do.

Word count: ~900

Ships: roceit

T/Ws: i don't think there are any in particular but tell me if im wrong

------------------------------------------

Are you really here?

Roman lay on his bed and stared at the stars that he had conjured on his ceiling. With a wave of his hand he sent them fleeing this way and that, running from some invisible force, some imaginary terror, something that they could never see.

Or am i dreaming?

I can't tell dreams from truth

He wasn't entirely sure if he was even awake anymore. It wouldn't be the first time he had fallen asleep and have a dream so vivid he could almost reach out and touch it, smooth scales and soft fabric and roses and honey,

For its been so long

Since i have seen you

I can hardly remember your face anymore

,and a face he could barely make out anymore.

A face swathed in intoxicating darkness. Roman wanted nothing more than to just let himself fall through his sheets and into the sky, empty of stars, brimming over with that darkness.

But no.

Prince, not duke, not snake charmer. He was a prince. No matter how charming the snake is. It was all fake, a facade.

Oh cruel irony, that he of all of them, had to be kept so far away from that facade of a face.

When i get really lonely

He just needed to get lost in a good idea. A story or a song. He wanted to get up, but the darkness above him was pressing him back down onto his covers, the glittering stars swarming over like millions of snakes eyes, staring down at him with more earnestness than he could ever imagine.

And the distance causes only silence

I think of you smiling

A story. Four stories. A court case. A moment. That was all that he needed. Just one more moment of seeing that face, of getting lost in those eyes, as mismatched as them. Irony upon irony.

With pride in your eyes

A lover that sighs

He could only hope that he hadn't already messed it all up. 'Dark sides' felt like a brand, and he felt the pain of a million burns from the betrayal in those eyes.

If you want me, satisfy me

Those haunting, haunted eyes.

If you want me, satisfy me

Are you really sure,

You could believe me?

Deceit lay on his bed and stared at the bare wooden slats of his ceiling. His room was like him, a mockery and a lie. A door surrounded by golden snakes that led into a box, with bare walls that painted themselves black and covered themselves with ornate vines made of gold whenever another set foot over the threshold.

He wanted nothing more than to just let someone see his room the way that he knew it. Empty and barren. But vulnerability is a luxury, and one that he couldn't afford.

When others say i lie.

It was fitting, really. All a matter of self control. But that's what happens when you're, hidden away, by yourself, for years.

All he wanted was, a moment, a moment shrouded in real gold. Golden epaulets and crowns rather than throttling vines and sneering snakes. A flowing red sash rather than-

I wonder if you could

Ever despise me

But no. He was a snake. Not a teacher or a father, or even an emo. He had to do his job. No matter how it shaded him in in the colours of danger and set up a fence around him. A wall of thorns, that not even Prince Charming could cut through.

When you know i really try

To be a better one

To satisfy you

As soon as Deceit rose up he was pushed back down, forced behind a wall of scales that only one touch could dismantle, but no one dared, like he would bite them if they got too close.

He tried and he tried, teaching them, trying to make them see, but they were blinded. Even- even him.

It was as if his crown had slipped over his eyes.

For you're everything to me

Deceit shook himself. Nothing comes of wishing on stars or asking questions in your head or screaming at a sky that would never care. It was his job to keep that idiot safe, and therefore he had to do the same for the other sides too. Even if it meant standing at the side of the road as /he sailed past in a gilded carriage, delicately waving a hand at the crowd that Deceit was drowning in.

And i'll do what you ask me

If you let me be free

But if anything, anything at all, could make it so he could do his job, and have /him for himself, by god he would do it, he would do anything.

If you want me, satisfy me

Anything at all.

If you want me, satisfy me

At their opposite ends, they stood up. Despite all of these feelings, they still had a job to do.

Feet of lead took them to the doors and hands of cotton landed on the handles, lungs of fire took in breaths, and they stepped into the hallway.

After walking for a million hours, a million miles, ten million paces, they saw a face. Golden and dreamlike, as always.

They kept walking, eyes down, feeling fingers trail along their own for perhaps longer than was strictly necessary, but they were alone.

If you want me, satisfy me

And it was enough to satisfy them.

------------------------------------------

Taglist (tell me jf you want to be added or removed): @celeste-tyrrell @uwillbeefoundtonight @hopeoncelivedhere @stop-it-anxiety @soakinforsif @combine-the-kitchens @randomavengersquotes

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fitzpatrick64fitzpatrick-blog · 5 years

Text

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triumphorce · 5 years

Text

under stars that feel as far as

real does..

at the moment.

at any moment..

kidnap me.

any chance presented

& in moments prior.

spent alone

zone.

far from progress.

stasis,

stationed next to

hope & regret.

on either side.

stamina. breathe now

to breathe more.

no free will.

i got to survive.

i got to make it,

especially if i just change aim

change rim-height,

relate with reality

change chin height,

keep head up,

lower expectations

keep pen up.

can’t make shit up,

so i make this shit up

dig deep, drain soon as i wake up

from sleep, or conscious nap..

break up

buildup

of words

that

feel

millions.

euphoric

ultimatum;

write,

or just

waste.

can’t wait

to post, create.

post haste

long ass roads that really dont have

an end, or means to.

I just become more of

whatever comes;

whatever emotions

i allow;

however

i react;

whoever,wherever,

when tf ever

‘cause all i am

is now, here.

a little more conscious..

that’s it.

&the more i remember,

the more i forget.

gotta pick and choose.

careful.

careful, please.

carefully

cut ties, choose way

‘cause by the time it's time to remember

new knew's

once was' just can’t keep up

and i accidentally

delete something

important,

or distort it..

gotta

slow down

life...

ssssshhheesh

i once was in less pieces,

&I at least, once, knew peace, but didn’t know it,

more than likely still do

staring at sky blue.

so blue..

eyes find it soothes

waiting on.

bus late.

contemplating, mind rages

sea

lost in deep

hue pool

sharp, wind wrapping body.

waitin on,

waiting on.

contemplating. gone.

daydreamin way thru life.

thru the little things

i always belittled.

cause I thought I had what i needed. or what I had was mine to keep.

...just because.

i need a little more somethin

a little more new, more original stop cliches, tropes,& archetypes in general

droll,

repetition equals learning, well i'll just lurn-less

beg to differ, by beggin questions, even when forced to tread slow,&only do so in head.

we’re all middlemen.

just fiddlin’

‘round in world,

in universe,

riddled withh riddles,

that

trickle,

drip

complex

descent

from cognitive

beginnings.

ephemeral glimpses of outside-nighttime-world,

through blinds in bed, as a child to now, still just as far from.

as far as real feels.

feelin nothing like how I do now.

but pain passes,

so it just must be my brain's capacity for trust shrank. & elaborates time taken for to cross neural pathways,

not get lost, and make it back safe save, all at the same time, while i attempt to ignore age

pay mind solely to the idea i can do, &I don't have to prove.

to become honest, so potential growth is optimum to be one with me, and know I can't ever be anything but and no idea is ever done, no matter finished, no grey matter greyer, no more dr. bender's, no more directions, no more winners, reflect on self, &what it means-to be better, i deflect defects w/ skylark teeth,

a truer sense of.. truth

a higher level basic

newfound fundamentals

that all the world and creation in it,

then, now, or later

are truly small

no life was ever finished

nobody wants to give it up,but we learn to

and as a consequence return to world what we wish to see beyond our existence

to find trust again love again feel again believe again hurry up, clock's tickin

get it, grind look and find get inspired go inspire go perspire run a mile two three four

five seconds six seconds

gotta go for it gotta get better,

never listen only instrumentalz for me

in a room aspire to be able to define my every rhyme and reason behind thoughts had,

itchin to stay consistent, keep on writing and don't worry about why, keep on filing tomes of dreams, ordering guides to self, from one idea to a whole library of shit I did,

like,

"oh, damn kid, you wrote that?"

damn right I did.

conversations that I have in my head

while I reread pieces

an elixir, a pensive remedy

for when I feel reluctant toward

reality, when in reality

it's really just the people around me that I trusted, busted ass for, gave up past for filled up gigabytes, sticky notes, notepads for designed a whole world for,

put off parties, friends, a part of me I never gave a chance for. became an outcast for. put on mask for.

to be compared and not contrasted warned and not encouraged critiqued but not heard

made me want

to tell, create a story and not give a damn about glory.

although i worry how i come off..sometimes..

made me

change style time after time for some time, now..

made me have

to boost own confidence, own own ego; inflate like raft, & float to shore,

common ground with action &

focused on

how I'm amounting in life.

..apparently

im just climbing up invisible

mountains

but i don't let it make or break me,

used to,

but no more ,& nowit's just me.

&that's just crazy..

so im focused

on how im a mountain lion to moles tryna troll, but most the time, tho I'm...focused on settling score with where I've failed

& failed to respond to failure well

let go

of initiative, hung to anger

in orbit around regret towards doors left unopened, words unspoken to people gone, that could've changed life, if only They could hear these thoughts.. if only I had someone to talk to besides myself, & people that talk to high-five themselves; given approval never sought, advice for battles never fought, in a room for most of youth, stuck in head, so much to see, explore lore of stories never written, so much done even before i decided to pick pen up, before i decided I was ready for commitment decisions in head turn to an every 5 minute thing,

stuck in holes deeper than before

tell-tale signs around sub-subconscious that Im chasin nothin..

apparitions..

in front of people

waitin somethin fierce

for me to

summon what's already there

a mirror image of miracle from thinnest air from holes put in life for pride in pages of jumbled thoughts gaps in memories for drafts that define ironic, describing fine lines I believe are there, in thinnest mirror, between me and experience in eyes that remind me i am less, i am more i am worse, i am better everything in between all and nothing, not objective, but an object capable of observation, own purpose assigned no more worth than yours, no more than I have dealt my self chances missed to live for product tossed or lost in the end

x's & lines through a mind confused, backspaces scribbles procrastinating daily, delaying the inevitable, staring at.. ...coffee steam and letters linked in ink curves and ink in nerves

on nights only sleep's deferred as vivid as yesterdays and scenes in head of tomorrows mixed in with skips in consciousness obvious options almost always missed second guesses linger in gut like wtf

what the fuck am i doing everyday, if I don't contribute to future

to believe, or not to believe i was in control of will was the whole problem let go of all it hone on goals. fly low, that is...

as far a stretch as breath of desire to contribute to the world believing if chance exists, i will succeed I will fulfill promises thru notepads & audience

a caged bird singing

do or do not.

seems all I've done is try, it seems to try isnt good enough, seems what they want from me wasn't what I was told they want, which is for me to want from me & instead what they want to see is what they want to see

me to become this and not my own, no matter how many hours spent, no matter the font, text, or etiquette formed to gain attention, but apparently a proper use of improper use of prose prospered overtime & i kept my posture, keep me from losing self, going crazy, letting people make me think something's not okay, or wrong with me, or out of whack off top, not taken seriously

priorities of the majority of society made it difficult to captivate eyes, and garner respect, because of conflictive internal contradictions to set out for what I thought was spreading message, but was embedding judgment of self, & effort, looking at motives that been made a home in heart like they suspect, but they was who fucked with me when I wouldn't even fuck with me, wanna be someone else, something else, like what you want clave?

to wait for mine..

psh, nnn’eh, thinking I was good enough to be taken seriously ..

thinking there was nothing to do, but to do, but something changed course, one day,

one day atta time

thinking that I was right behind, could just lift up arm and touch but that wasn't the case, ever, constant race

couldn't hold on, couldn't hide the pain to psyche out greatest opponent, me

didn't want to, saw no point

repeating and repeating, over and again

so on and so forth, thus forth destroying self convinced I couldn't help it and still am

and still can't

accept I ever gave in, broke under pressure, buckled under what some would chuckle over, no pity, just recognition of jimity's petition to push when pushed, with thoughts into written gale force, in a position to always hope, so when foundation crumbles, there's another one up under

if not, I use earth to wander.

whether with excess of momentum or subsiding in subtle realization of sustenance behind life's work

purpose on course set to find reward I'm told I'm looking for..

fin

#poem #dps #clavevesari

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isogenderskitty · 4 years

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sooooooo i wrote another lil snippet of my ace attorney warrior cats crossover AU. i imagine at the end of whatever plot this thing has (listen, stories are hard, idk what im doing i just want to write lil cute scenes leave me alone) miles, silverclaw, would join sunclan. here’s his renaming ceremony :D

character key:

flamestar = phoenix

silverclaw = miles

soulbelly = maya

spiritspots = pearl

snapstar = manfred von karma

Flamestar takes a deep breath, and begins to address his Clan. "I, Flamestar, leader of SunClan, call upon the warriors of StarClan to look down on this warrior; Silverclaw, previously of FrostClan. He has more than earned his place in his new Clan, away from the severity and strife that plagued him in the Clan where he grew up. May his newfound devotion to SunClan continue to shape him into an even kinder, more respectable cat than the one I see before me today. I feel it only fitting to give him a new name, one that better reflects his true nature, now free from Snapstar's cruel influence. Silverclaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your new Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Silverclaw looks at him, pride shining in his grey eyes, only the slightest hint of an emotional tremble in his voice. "I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your second warrior name. Silverclaw, from this moment on you will be known as Silverheart. StarClan honours your bravery and your cunning, and we welcome you as a full warrior of SunClan."

Flamestar rests his muzzle on Silverheart's head, and he feels his tongue lap firmly yet tenderly at his shoulder in return. The other SunClan cats, particularly Soulbelly and Spiritspots being heard above the crowd, begin chanting his new name to welcome him.

"Silverheart! Silverheart!" Flamestar steps back, finding that Silverheart is not at all moving to acknowledge his other Clanmates. He gazes steadily back at Flamestar, an invisible radiation of warmth seeming to come from within him. Flamestar feels his ears warm with embarrassment at the idea of his Clan seeing their leader act like a lovesick apprentice, but ignores it. He offers Silverheart a sheepish smile, and feels a thrill of delight rise in him when the other warrior lets out a mrrow of soft amusement in return.

"Thank you, Flamestar." Silverheart no longer has any need to hide the warmth in his voice when he addresses him, and that knowledge sends Flamestar's tail straight up in the air with glee, little prickles in his paws making him want to flex them in the grass.

He dares to take a tiny step forward so that his entire vision is filled with Silverheart, and only Silverheart, before he replies.

"Don't mention it."

He's jolted rather abruptly from this dreamlike state by Belly, as she butts him heavily with her shoulder. "C'mon, Flame! Snap out of it! Come join me and Spirits for some celebratory fresh-kill. There's plenty on the pile." She turns and looks up at the other tom. "You too, Silverheart! No excuses. You're skinny as a stoat." She prods him with her paw playfully, then turns and bounds towards the fresh-kill pile.

"Is she always like that?" Silverheart meows to Flamestar.

"Yeah, pretty much. Come on, or she'll eat your share too."

#LISTEN............. I JUST.#i love them #djkghksdf #my writing #warriors #lawyers #crossover #aa wc au

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dmalfoy · 6 years

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i was tagged by @lothlorieh thank you thank you ty <3

RULES: ANSWER all questions, ADD one question of your own and then TAG as many people as there are questions

coke or pepsi? uhhh I don’t like carbonated drinks, but if I had to choose I would choose coke. only bc fuck that Pepsi commercial disney or dreamworks? tbh dreamworks but I like both

coffee or tea? coffee heck fucking yeah books or movies? books, books are always better, says I windows or Mac? lolol Mac, but I will say Im a pc gamer so then id go w windows tbh dc or marvel? def marvel xbox or playstation? idc I've played on both, but I don't have either night owl or early riser? night owl hahaha cards or chess? cards lol. I don't have the patience for chess chocolate or vanilla? chocolate!!!! vans or converse? converse star wars or star trek? Star Wars oops one episode per week or marathoning? marathoning lololol gandalf or obi-wan? obi-wan Kenobi heroes or villains? generally hero, but if its a well-written villain then villain john williams or hans zimmer? tbh John Williams BUT HOLY SHIT I SAW HANS ZIMMER AT COACHELLA. fuckin died. he’s my boy. disneyland/disney world or six flags? probs Disneyland lolol forest or sea? why is it a sea not an ocean? but anyway sea I guess flying or reading minds? flying tbh, but it would be cool to be invisible harry potter or lord of the rings? Hogwarts is my home mofo cake or pie? cake... but tbh neither... I'm not a bakery person... you are banished to a desert island, which benedict cumberbatch character would you choose to take with you? uh Sherlock because he could probably save me lol train or cruise ship? train brian cox or neil degrasse-tyson? neil degrasse-tyson is the shit m8 wizard of oz or alice in wonderland? I like Alice in wonderland fanfiction or fanart? I can't hear you over the excess links to ffdotnet the hunger games - books or movies? books duh be able to see the future or travel into the past? uh future, I live with #noragrats han solo or luke skywalker? neither, i choose leia (lol I'm keeping this answer) spring or autumn? *kicks down doors, breaks windows* AUTUMN!!! campfire or fireplace? fireplace bc idk how social u think I am, but I am not french fries or onion rings? I hate onion rings truth or dare? truth winter or summer? id rather be cold than sweltering, so winter vampires or werewolves? vampire tbh bc id rather be a vamp eyes or lips? eyes (are the window to the soul) burgers or sandwiches? burgers lol altho I'm a vegetarian now friends-to-lovers or enemies-to-lovers trope? ugh fuck me up both, but if I had to choose... enemies to lovers probably #angst pizza or pasta? fuck you. both I don't have to pick. I'm from nyc they are both amazing. ancient rome or ancient greece? i’m always a slut for ancient greece (tbh pretty damn accurate) foxes or wolves? foxes: they smart and cute and aggressive little buggers mermaids or dragons? FUCK YEAH DRAGONS!! kate bush or madonna? uhh I guess madonna? the office or parks and recreation? I've only really seen parks and rec lol sci-fi or period drama? tbh i’m such a slut for pride and prejudice, but I love me some sci-fi, why would u do this to me. who wrote this qs. omg. fairytales or mysteries? fairytales... I like super powers lol explore the oceans or space? lmao fuck u. omg. but space if I had to pick. iphone or android? iPhone do I look like I'm fucking around thieves or assassins? assassins bc they sneaky mofo but also dangerous cooking or baking? I burn water. greek mythology or norse mythology? greek mythology ugh fuck me up with that shit yes awesome console gaming or pc gaming? pc gaming all the way old books or new books? fuck this is a hard qs. why did I do this??

i tag @siriusisntdead @pygmyspuff @declanlynch @gryffindvor @nocctem @queen-daenerys

#tp #tagged #do it if u want!! <3

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thedestinydiariez · 4 years

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how to get over the “love of your life” in 30 days

week one: marinate in the turmoil, scream bloody murder at red lights. if you try to keep it in, you’ll only lose it in broad daylight on a random tuesday bc you opened your trunk and saw the grocery basket you stole like bonnie n clyde... i know from... experience.

escape your headspace. your city. your gently placed reminders. mild to moderate drug use is relatively encouraged at this stage. eat the entire kushy punch. this is rock bottom, roll around in it, make it an astonishing recovery story. wash your sheets. twice. listen to the birdy version of let her go. sleep for 14 hours.

week 2: gasoline is cheap these days. burn their belongings. goodwill or the trash works too just a little less flavor. don’t attempt to keep just a few of your fav sentiments, theyll be all the more bothersome. change all the picture frames. if you haven’t already BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK, includes your phone, ya mamas phone, ya best friends phone. delete all pictures in recently deleted too. cancer placements i’m talking to you. this is your spring cleaning period. burn allll the sage and lavender.

week 3: the most vital of all. open the blinds. crawl your way out. out of the fantasy you drew up and create a better dreamworld. ivy lining the walls and metallic colors lighting the sky. i’m no van gogh but i’ve done a decent amount of painting & even its awful it’s still fused with passion. i’ve also done a ridiculous amount of writing- seriously y’all should see my drafts. mediate but don’t get too accustomed to silence. drink a glass of wine. a bottle. who’s counting. read, distract from your own unhappy ending. make amends with yourself. accept that you can be so incredibly wrong about a person at no fault of your own. it only makes you human to seek the good. don’t let heartache make you pessimistic. remain calm.

week 4: you’re still in the running to be america’s next best version of yourself. i personally had a serena vandersooden in the hamptons moment. now that i can look at the situation as an outsider i’m so thankful that i snapped out of it. sometimes ill get random floods of grief. starts as spouts of frustration, upset that i could be letting the unchangable get the best of me AGAIN. i feel dumb for letting another entity control my emotions with the flick of a switch. but i funnel it out anyway, as quick as possible, rip off the band aid, let my open wound aerolize. a twisted part of me hopes that pain travels like a speed of light to the center of the heart that cursed me. of all the resentments i’ve carried ive never felt guilt. i know i love with no limitations. a care that might scare those incapable of loving themselves. i take pride in every act i participate in. i know that i had genuine intentions and i gave my best & then some. if the absolute most wasn’t enough on some invisible scale, then atleast i went out fighting. it is no reflection of my character that i was gullible. of course i trusted the one i loved blindly. well played but i don’t feel guilty for loving the wrong person because in the collective moments it felt meant to be. i won’t apologize to anyone but myself. having to cope with losing me has to be worse than any punishment i can conjure up. im in awe of all the amazing friends i have that remind me love comes in all shapes and sizes. i owe it all to them- for mirroring the strength i had inside. i look back at what i’ve written just a year ago and i can’t recall the girl who wrote it. we all are ever evolving. hell i wanted to end it last month for someone who may or not be one of my soul mates. as if i wasn’t already planning to throw my life away metaphorically i wanted to literally put the nail in the coffin. i hope the relief i’m overcome with continues into oblivion. i long for the day i feel nothing but silliness for my dramatics.

the destiny’s survival guide is for the die hard lovers out there who are still hung up on their first. if you’re looking for a sign to not zoom them- this is it. for all the lovers out there drowning- don’t forget the little people. you’ll come down eventually. for all my girls out there who spent every waking moment in quarantine with their partner just to remember that men have not and will never will be shit- it’s for the greater good honey. you’ll spend countless hours mapping out the how and why. you just need to know one fact, it happened and it’s done for a reason. all i ever talk about is being in love because love is the only real currency in life. it dictates every move a homosapien makes. you’ll know when you have it. you’ll know when it’s gone and you’ll know when it’s true.

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 4 years

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This is the correct answer.

Who else wins a piece of the pot that voted?

Does anyone know of a small hermaphrodite with no womb whom would play dress up in my Boudreaux? Then he bust out my closet in a $15,551.15 dress and said "I bet 2020! Now how do i look?!?!" And it was a silver slinky one that fit him so perfectly I was so tempted to give it to him So i asked Alex if i could and he said "sure why not?"

"Do you know who bought it?" After I already said he had And all the girls did and they all told him they wanted to wear dresses and buy them from him.

"Well I did. It was probably on sale or something"

I yanked the tag off and handed it to him "I've never even wore it" he turned around and cried...

"I'll be back in a minute. Let him have it"

I saw him go to the Sugar Shack. Every one calls it Candy Shack. I wondered what is he doing. Then I saw Snoop pull a big black binder down.. Well he is the bookkeeper I thought. Then Alex ran back up the slight hill.

"Well, they won't pay me for them but they will give you store credit. Go one kids. Go on and you can buy one thing from the closet!"

"What do I pay thee for this?"

"Oh we are learning old English. Shakespeare. I thought it would be fun. It was on the list. Just the vocabulary for now. They could have some group quality time to practice"

"1 hug but not a kiss. Go ask her for how much is th4 rest of your debt"

"A kiss on the cheek. Hug snoop 4 times a day and Mis Shawntae once an hour"

She got hugs 1-3 times per hour. For up to one month. Abbie wanted to give her hugs for two. But two times a day during class free time.

The odd thing was. No one was jealous. We all clamored at the window or went outside the door to look. Watch her run down the hill and Miss Shawntae running up to greet her part way and hug in the middle. It made us happy and tear up.

To see such joy that we all had given being continued. It still makes me cry to this day. And I can still see them.

But none of us hung our heads and cried. We all held them up with pride.

After 10 days Ms Shawntae came up walking Abbie. "Is she okay?"

"10 days. For 10 days" she was crying. "Okay y'all look. Im gonna give y'all all a hug and I'll tell you what!" She hugged them all paid them a compliment and told them she loved them and/or cared about them. Took a moment for each child. "Ah i feel better. Now for 10 days i been seeing y'all from at the bottom of that hill looking up to see y'all all standing at the window on tables to look and out that door. And when I wave y'all wave really quick then run and hide at your desks so Abbie don't see you. Now why do y'all all do that? And why are y'all all smiling so big?!?!"

"She said we could but don't make her feel like she don't have no privacy." I laughed.

Abbie said "Do y'all still do that? I felt like my life was private!"

We assured her her trek up the hill was hers alone. Some one always stood to watch out the gate which was a different direction than the Sugar Shack. Someone new each day.

Shawntae looked sad. "But doesn't Snoop watch? Someone?"

"Not always Your husband is always looking at you. But i assure you the kids always watch the gate and we always see her dad rush past the window and tickle her"

"I thought it was private"

"Let me finish. No one looks out the window in that doorway. Remember you put the paper over it with tape?"

"I wish it was glue" she crossed Her arms

"Try glue but it won't stick like tape"

"Can I ?!?!"

"Yeah If you want to"

"Let her finish!" Said Shawntae

"I tell you too.. Oop I'll let her' said Antron

"We let all the kids see what your dad does to you. Then we allowed you to put the paper up for your privacy."

"What does he do?" Asked Shawntae

"Tickle. I asked him the first time I saw him do it to her"

"How do you know it was him?"

"He's invisible. He shed his skin and clothing just to see his daughter. He said he would give her up if i could forgive him."

The whole class was silent.

"So why does he come and tickle her and see her then? Why this month long hugs?"

"She told me she missed him. And so i went out and talked to the moon. Because she never did that first month. When Every one else did, too. She was honest to a T." I was so torn apart by this little girl. My life. The Earth's situation. I looked at the wall opposite of every one. That became too much.. Being alone... I looked down at my lap but they became sobs. So much I couldn't talk. So i looked up into the faces of all these people. These children. And they were proud and they were smiling.

And Shawntae said "give me a hug. We all knew. The kids told. Too many secrets will weigh on your heart tho"

"But what we didn't know. May I speak? That you talked to the moon about it. That you asked your own worst enemy to be allowed just once per day in the afternoon to touch or speak to his daughter for just one moment to make her happy. That is what we never knew. Not one. Not one of us. And that is what makes you a good teacher. Now give me a hug." He did. And he said things no one ever said to me except people who knew me my whole life. And i really needed a hug. "Now i know why your face keeps look in misery. Because you do. You stay miserable for the whole world to be happy. And i told. Because you told me out of no one else in this school to lock the door when she would leave only in the afternoon. And put up a piece of paper. I thought why? She's crazy. But she had that look on her face she's only had since she got poisoned when I called her a crazy old bitch and went under her leg and said I was going outside and she grabbed my arm and shook it like I was a rag doll and she looked me square in the eye and I mean dead straight in the eye and shook her head so slow no. I thought I would die!! And she meant it too!! Now that same man or I mean alien man will go out there only ij the afternoon to see his only daughter. And the first day he came to see her and only she knew?? And she wrote on the board "Dial 911 but only if i don't erase when i come in" and said she was going outside and Abbie looked well shamed and the rest of us shocked. That was when i knew and Then when she walked back in and said "Abbie it's okay. I talked to the moon after you and i talked. Every one else mind your business" and she erased the board and Every one smiled but Abbie Beaaammmed!! And Then when I wrote on the board "call the police if I don't come back in" to tell you two he wasn't racist and SHE erased the board so fast and jumped in her seat so fast i could scarcely see ans i said "i thought your back hurt" and she said "ywah well that went and did it. I should used longer legs" and thats when,I knew. She talked to,the moon"

The class applauded.

"We had a class on it. When Abbie asked" i laughed. "The sun we trust because it makes food grow and all that stuff so when we can't talk to the sun because we are afraid to,get burned or well hurt in,this instance, we talk to,the moon because it is a reflection and filters out all the bad stuff just like when we talk to a friend who tells us we are beautiful. That is the moon.,in short"

So who makes up the full 13?

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