#I still don’t know how haikus work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alexiethymia · 11 months

Text

illumination

summary: [Post-TYBW] Hitsugaya fixed his tabi on the engawa as he waited for Momo. Not for the first time, he was gripped with that sense of déjà vu. First sunrise. First shrine visit. A lot of the firsts that he remembered in his life was with her.

[read on ao3]

Notes: I don’t consider myself good at domestic fics, so this fic had plenty of inspiration, mainly @rays-of-fire-and-ice, @canariie, and @bleachbleachbleach‘s head canons especially about Jurinan grandma and Momo’s calligraphy. It was also inspired by the Hitsugaya family in Untitled Collection and the warmest place in the world, as well as all of the HCs about hitsuhina children that I just went and bit the bullet and did my own version. I’m also way too late for HitsuHina week, but I really wanted to finish this work based on the prompt fireworks.

Soshun mazu sake Ni ume uru Nioi kana

New year and first Sake and the fragrance of plum blossoms Being sold

“Kira’s spouting off haikus again which means he’s plastered and that’s our cue to go. Thanks for having us, Hitsugaya-taichou!”

“Heh, you sure it isn’t because you’ve made your darling wife and daughter wait up for you and now you’re scared you’ll be greeting the new year with a sandal to the face?”

“Shut it, Hisagi-san.”

“Oi, oi, show some respect Abarai. It should be Hisagi-senpai.”

“Ehh Kira, isn’t that haiku out-of-season? Isn’t it too early for spring? Ah, but it fits perfectly with the umeshu doesn’t it, taichou?”

Kira just ignored the whole drunken lot in favor of shaking Momo’s hands. For some reason, he seemed to be crying.

“Just a small new year’s gift, Hinamori-kun…ah…eto,” Kira mumbles all the while still vigorously shaking her hands. Only a strained furrow in his drooping brow signified his strain as if trying to remember something important amidst the drunken haze he was in, “My mistake,” he amends, “I mean, Hitsugaya-san.”

Perhaps it was the same furrow mirrored in the captain’s expression that caused him to remember, but in truth Hitsugaya’s expression wasn’t really directed at him. In truth, it wasn’t only Renji’s wife who was maybe slightly displeased with him.

“No need to be so formal, Kira-kun! We’ve known each other for ages.” Despite that she consented to be supported by her back, she wasn’t as fully nestled by his side like in her moments of true contentment where she would be languid and soft against him.

She was the perfect hostess so she’d never let anything in her expression show except a welcoming and bright smile, but Hitsugaya didn’t know her for centuries for nothing. The smile she had now had the same subtle curves as the exact same smile she showed him when she said, ‘What do you mean? Of course, I’m not angry, Shiro-chan, how silly,’ when he’d eaten the peaches she had apparently been saving when they were just carefree kids back in Jurinan. Moments like this made memories like that feel simultaneously as if they were eons ago and also as if they just happened yesterday.

Hitsugaya sighed.

“Momo, you know you can’t drink for a reason.”

Everyone in the party turned to look at him at that. True it was stern as was characteristic of Hitsugaya-taichou, but at the same time it sounded conciliatory. Perhaps that was why Momo let her smile fall, and let a slight pout overtake her features. Internally, Hitsugaya sighed with relief. He’d rather she shows that she was displeased with him than hide it.

“I know, but still for you to go so far as to ask everyone to bring plum wine, precisely because you know I don’t like it…” When Madarame-san and Ayasegawa-san brought some over, she thought nothing of it. When Hirako-taichou had dropped by in human world attire clapping Toshiro on the back with enough force that he fell, irritated and grumbling, and ruffling her hair softly as he placed the bottle and a new jazz vinyl in her hands, she thought it was a funny coincidence. But when even Nanao-san with the soutaichou dropped by, her with books and him with more of the stuff, that’s when she began to put two and two together.

Maybe it was a bit much for new year’s celebrations, but it had also been a housewarming of sorts, and Momo was touched with all of the small tokens of welcome and well-wishes. Pity it had to be something she wasn’t fond of. But Momo was nothing but gracious so she accepted it all.

Abarai-kun and Hisagi-senpai looked at each other sheepishly, while Kira-kun looked just about ready to drop at the thought of possibly having offended her with their gift, but Hitsugaya-taichou insisted, and you never said no to Hitsugaya-taichou when he used that tone (rather you never just said no to Hitsugaya-taichou period).

At least Matsumoto-san was thoughtful enough to bring peaches which was probably why she was giggling at their expense.

Seeing Kira-kun’s shaking legs and increasingly off color (he might faint with how white he was becoming), Momo decided to let up with a sigh. Looking up at her husband who was looking at her straightforwardly, Momo found that she really couldn’t stay mad especially when the person in question was sure he had done nothing wrong. And anyway he also mostly abstained from the alcohol, only taking a few sips in order not to be rude to their guests. She leaned into him even as Hitsugaya-kun teased her lightly, “You would have snuck a few sips if it was fruit wine.”

Feeling as if they were intruding into some soft and fluffy scene, the vice-captains couldn’t help but feel second-hand embarrassment at being the witnesses to a married couple’s fight (if it could even be called that).

“I hope Rukia and I aren’t as obnoxious as that,” Renji whispered discreetly.

“You totally are. It’s just that your lover’s quarrels are more explosive.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you Hinamori-kun, er I mean, Hitsugaya-san, no I mean Momo-kun!” For some inexplicable reason, Kira started crying into his arm again.

“Ahhh, taichou and Momo, could you stop making the rest of us feel so single?”

“Ahem, Rangiku-san, would you do me the honor of- “

“Yosh! That does it. Time to take this party over to the Kuchiki manor. I’m sure they’ll have some high-class sake!”

“Hey, wait a minute! When did I say- “ But Hisagi just slung his arm over Renji’s neck in a chokehold, while dragging Kira behind him. Hitsugaya privately commiserated, both with Abarai and Kuchiki. Matsumoto was a whirlwind who couldn’t be stopped. Feeling a migraine coming on at the prospect of having to pay for any potential damages, he almost didn’t notice Matsumoto sidle up to them and spirit Momo away for a careful, and yet cheerful hug. Nuzzling her cheek against Momo’s, she whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll sneak you some fruit wine sometime.”

Hitsugaya growled in warning at hearing that, “Matsumoto…” but Momo only laughed and hugged the buxom woman tightly, as his vice-captain winked at him. “After everything, taichou, I promise. Lieutenant’s honor.”

Hitsugaya calmed down, and sighed. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. Nonetheless he greeted his vice-captain, “Happy New Year, Matsumoto. I’ll be counting on you greatly for the upcoming year.”

“Thank you for visiting, Rangiku-san. Have a Happy New Year!”

With a lazy salute, she waved them both goodbye, and in a while they were both finally alone. Hitsugaya didn’t mind the company of his colleagues, while he knew Momo enjoyed it. Still, he didn’t want her to get too tired. Spying her drooping lids, he gently shook her, mindful of both her hands wrapping around her midsection, “Time for bed, sleepyhead.”

“Mmmm,” Momo yawned as she placed both arms around her husband’s neck while he scooped her up, “Hey, Shiro?”

“Hmm, what is it?”

“You know you’re going to have to drink all that sake right? And I won’t help with a single drop,” Momo giggled sleepily. As much as Momo disliked plums, she knew Hitsugaya-kun didn’t have a taste for alcohol either. Snuggling deeper into her husband’s broad shoulder, she smiled peacefully.

Hitsugaya blanched.

“I’ll give some to Matsumoto.”

…

Momo felt a hand waking her from restful slumber.

Blearily opening one eye, she spotted Hitsugaya-kun already up with a bemused look on his face. He had always been the early riser between the two.

Stretching her arms and yawning, Momo fixed her hair while Hitsugaya-kun patiently waited beside her. It was still dark out. Her stomach suddenly grumbled, and while she might have been embarrassed about it before, with how often it kept happening these days, she just got used to it.

Hitsugaya-kun passed her a bowl of the leftover toshikoshi soba she’d prepared for them which she took gratefully, warming her hands on the reheated bowl.

She still felt slow as molasses, but luckily Hitsugaya-kun had always been alert. While she sleepily slurped at the noodles still only half awake, Hitsugaya-kun merely arranged her so she was comfortable leaning against his front. He even tucked her in their blankets, leaving none for himself since the cold didn’t bother him. Once he was assured that she was comfortable, he slowly opened their sliding doors so they could view the night sky. It was but a moment later that the inky blackness was replaced with slivers of rose light.

With no words passing between them, together they watched the first sunrise.

---

Hitsugaya fixed his tabi on the engawa as he waited for Momo. Not for the first time, he was gripped with that sense of déjà vu.

First sunrise. First shrine visit.

A lot of the firsts that he remembered in his life was with her.

Memory was a funny thing in Soul Society. While he remembered nothing of his old life, if he were to fix a point in time where his life started here, he found that she was always in his firsts - that her smiling face was the beginning of everything.

First smile. First laughter. First friend.

First love.

Though he took a while to realize it. (Or perhaps like a circle, there had been no fixed point and some part of him had always known.)

Finished, he leaned back on his arms as he looked up at the withered branches. Though some things remained the same, perhaps a lot of things also changed. He remembers his first shrine visit with Momo and baachan. Back then he’d been impatient and rushing her so that they could get a move on already. But his grumbling had died in his throat when he saw her come out with a new yukata. It was nothing fancy, not even a kimono, but it was new. Everything about her then was new, from the first time he saw her put her hair up in a bun, small wild flowers threaded into the strands by baachan, to the new dusty pink yukata with plum blossoms scattered across it she had saved up for.

‘How do I look, Shiro-chan?’

‘…You look fine.’

It wasn’t even close to what he wanted to say, but only Momo would still smile brightly at him like that, leaving him dazed.

The plum blossoms were starting to bud, he noticed. Glancing down at his own kimono, he thought wryly that this was a far cry from the threadbare yukata he’d worn back then. Deep midnight blue and black, with whorls of clouds, on the back a great mighty dragon, shining in white as it rushed alongside a surging river, such that you wouldn’t know where the river ended and the dragon began. Truthfully, it was a bit ostentatious for his own tastes, but baachan had sent it and baachan had probably made it, so he would wear it gratefully.

Hearing the sliding doors open, he turned, a teasing remark of, ‘Finally done?’ at the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t even get the chance.

How could he even say anything?

Just there, Momo in a resplendent silk furisode, cloaked in white and vermillion. She gave him a little twirl and he spied the phoenix at her back, feathered tail curling all over her, along with flowers bright red and yellow, exploding like fireworks. There were subtle patterns of teal and green that matched his eyes, while her hair was held up with a matching red kanzashi, stray locks curling over her ear and feathering her forehead.

Separated by years, two moments in time, and he still finds that his breath catches.

“How do I look, Shiro?”

A blush on her cheeks, eyes sparkling, happy and at peace.

He smiled.

“You look beautiful.”

Some things changed, but some things would always stay the same.

…

“I wonder if baasan got our card,” Momo murmured thoughtfully as she rubbed the silk between her two fingers. Hitsugaya-kun just hummed and nodded as he made a path for the two of them in the crowd, hand gripping hers firmly. She continued touching the silk with her other hand, softly marveling. It really was beautiful. Baasan must have started as soon as she finished with their wedding clothes to get these to them on time. The subtly sparkling white on her furisode reminded her of her shiromuku safely put away back in their private quarters at home, while the black in Hitsugaya-kun’s kimono reminded her of his montsuki. Baasan had playfully added Hyourinmaru’s four-point star as a crest, while lamenting that she couldn’t decide if she wanted Momo to wear white, or a colorful iro-uchikake.

Watching the softly falling snow outside, she had made the decision for her. Momo loved white. Baasan had only chuckled and said next time then. Letting the long sleeve fall smoothly from her hand like water, Momo smiled wondering if this was her version. This wasn’t their first shrine visit since they were married, but it was still a kind of first nonetheless.

Hitsugaya-kun briefly glanced back at her. “Don’t worry, we’ll visit her soon.” She nodded, still smiling at him.

…

“Yatta, I got great blessing! What did you get, Hitsugaya-kun?” Momo looked pleased with herself and that was more than enough for Toshiro, even as she couldn’t help her giggle at seeing his own fortune, sue-sho-kichi, small blessing to come. Toshiro wasn’t superstitious, but was the small really necessary?

Toshiro wasn’t superstitious but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. Momo tended to pull out good fortunes, almost always Dai-kichi, sometimes Chu-kichi. If the overwhelming misfortune she faced meant that the cosmic scale was being tipped back in her favor, then Toshiro thought that there was justice after all.

She traced the characters on her fortune, machibito, a person being expected or waited for, “The person you’re waiting for will come,” she mouthed softly, even as Toshiro’s heart jolted at seeing shussan on her fortune slip.

Even in moments of calm like this, sometimes the anxiety would spike up. To shake off the silly urge of wanting to bite his thumb nail he smoothed over endan and negaigoto on his own slip almost obsessively.

Hirako once told him that everything in reverse would come the right side way up eventually. He didn’t put much stock in the other captain’s words, and much less did he put stock in pieces of paper, but if they meant that Momo would have a lifetime of fortune and happiness, then he would believe them wholeheartedly. It was nothing less than she deserved. And if nothing else, he’ll believe in himself. He’ll will those fortunes to reality if he had to.

“These are good fortunes, aren’t they Hitsugaya-kun?”

They were.

…

Just before they were about to pray, Momo suddenly asked him, “What did you dream about, Hitsugaya-kun?”

“Nothing much, just the past.”

Momo suddenly chuckled, “I had an auspicious first dream, a hawk flying high in the sky.”

“Oh,” Toshiro raised a brow, questioning. People talked about signs all they liked but it was actually rare to dream about them.

Momo smiled sheepishly, “Hehe, well to be exact I dreamed about the first time Hitsugaya-kun showed me his bankai. I remember being so amazed at seeing you fly.”

Toshiro’s brow raised even higher, “So I’m a bird now, is that it? You know you can’t just make up signs like that.”

Momo just smiled back impishly. “I’m collecting luck. It’s a lucky sign if I say it is. It’s up to us to make our own happiness after all.”

Toshiro just sighed in fond exasperation, he’ll tell her later if she asked but he had dreamed about a moment in the past. It wasn’t a specific moment, in fact it could have been every moment, but he had dreamed of a simple scene of them eating watermelons and watching the sunset.

It had been so tranquil that when he woke up he was disoriented at how Momo seemed to have grown overnight while Granny was nowhere to be found. Had she snuck into his bed to sleep again? Concerned, he wondered if she had another nightmare, before noticing her clasped hands in front of her. It hit him all over again, like a kidou spell, the immense but quiet happiness. Uncharacteristic of him, he had woken her because he couldn’t contain himself. The scene of watching the sunset in his dreams replaced with watching the sunrise. They had been surrounded by the mountains of their hometown in his dreams. Perhaps that counted?

A clap interrupts his reverie. Softly but enough for him to hear, Momo releases her prayer for the gods to hear as well, ‘may they be clever and strong’.

Toshiro contemplates whether or not to tell her that prayers were usually silent, but he decides against it. He doesn’t mind. Anyway, he knows what his own prayer will be.

It’s the one he’s been wishing for every night for the past year.

…

Hatsuyuki ya suisen na ha na no tawamu made

The first snow Just enough to bend The daffodil leaves

“I thought that you wanted your first calligraphy to be…”

“I know, I know what I said, but I can’t seem to think of anything,” Momo’s eyes as she looks up at him are pleading.

Stroking her head to calm her, he then picks up the paper to carefully store away. “It’s still good.”

Momo pouts slightly perhaps thinking he was only placating her. Unfurling it, Toshiro observes it more closely, “No really, it’s good. As always your handwriting is almost too pretty,” he smirks. Momo only puffs out her cheeks and crossed her arms pretending to be offended. Really her husband could still be so childish sometimes, finding it hard to say what he wanted to say. But Momo could still read him just the same. To him, anything she said or did was beautiful. She was beautiful. It was as simple as that.

Cupping his chin in hand, he asked her, “Do you want this here? I can place it in the entranceway.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I made it for the tenth division. I hope Rangiku-san also likes it.”

“You know her. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Finally putting the paper away, he dragged over another writing desk to place in front of her. It was easier to move around and sit without his captain’s cloak over his shoulders. He can’t remember the last time he went so long without wearing it. “Speaking of Matsumoto, I hope the tenth division barracks is still standing.”

“Hush,” she chides, even as she smiles and puts brush to paper to begin another stroke, “You know Rangiku-san can be counted on when it really matters.”

Copying her, he also drew a straight line downwards, though perhaps less elegant looking. His strokes were blunt and precise, sometimes heavy-handed in places where the ink would bleed out, much the same as him. He was good at dispensing reports quickly and efficiently, but wasn’t really suited to crafting pieces of art (unless it was with blade and ice), slowly and with care. This was more Kira’s domain, or Momo’s. She could get so absorbed in each stroke that perhaps an hour would pass before she was finished with just one kanji. She wrote like she drew, as if there was meaning and an entire world in each line that made up a character. And perhaps for her there was. “I know, I know. I haven’t even had any reports yet so they can’t be doing too badly without me.”

He hadn’t said anything, but perhaps Matsumoto sensed that he would prefer not to be bothered unless it was truly an emergency. She was an excellent vice-captain like that, although he rarely said it out loud. Again, perhaps, many would call it uncharacteristic of him, that he wasn’t worrying every minute about his squad but he had enough on his mind and in his heart right now. Gazing at Momo in front of him, humming as she added another stroke, he let out a subtle sigh of relief.

He could leave it up to Matsumoto.

…

It’s Momo who wakes him up this time around, brimming with excitement.

“Shiro-chan, look! It’s snowing!”

How nostalgic, he thinks sleepily at hearing her laugh, ‘she hasn’t called me that in ages.’

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, anxiety once again begins to creep in, contrasting his wife’s honest pleasure. ‘Won’t it be too cold for her?’ There were times in the middle of the night when he would unconsciously place space between the both of them, memories flashing back to those early days when he couldn’t control his powers. But without fail and as if she had some sixth sense for it, she would only draw nearer, looping hands and legs together so he would find it harder to escape, mumbling incoherent things all the while as she drooled on him. He had no choice then but to fall blissfully back into sleep.

Noticing her husband’s contemplative gaze as he looked outside, Momo sighed and wagged a finger to catch his attention, “No messing with the weather, Shiro. I’m fine.” Cross-eyed, Toshiro reluctantly nodded. “Good,” she chirped. One crisis averted she snuggled closer, and waited for him to put his arms around her.

Suddenly and without warning, colors bloomed in the sky, a multitude of flowers sparkling brightly and dazzling. Momo could only gasp in delight.

‘Fireworks in the snow, huh?’ A far-off memory that couldn’t hurt them now.

Certainly, it was too cold, but drawing the presence nestled in his arms even more closely to him, Toshiro found that he didn’t mind. The fireworks were spectacular yes, but his gaze was permanently drawn downwards. Blue, red, yellow, pink played off across her face in flashes. He could watch fireworks forever illuminated in her eyes. There, they would never fizzle out, the sparks would never die, rather they would shine brightly forever, so long as she kept looking at him.

Suddenly overcome with feeling, he wanted exactly that. He could only whisper her name, even if there were only the two of them, “Momo…”

“Hmmm,” she responded turning to meet his eyes with her own despite the display continuing above them, “What is it, Shiro-cha –“

He was a patient man, he was. And he’ll ask forgiveness for interrupting her later, but at this moment, he wanted nothing more than her lips on his. He should let her get some rest, he should, his mind was clearly telling him that he should, so why was his treacherous body tightening his arms around her, one hand roughly weaving fingers in her hair as he tilted her head back.

She was no better, fingers wound as tightly in his own hair, drawing out a soft groan he tried to muffle against her neck, as he kissed it feverishly, softly biting to leave blooms of his own on the milky skin, a counterpoint to the flowers up in the sky. Hyoten Hyakkaso without his zanpakuto, though these flower burned rather than froze.

There were times he was deathly afraid he would freeze her, but right now, nothing else plagued his mind besides her, and as he drew her down with him, for once he didn’t mind the snow, for he was sure he could warm her as long as he kept her close.

Up in the sky, the fireworks brightly shined and illuminated them both.

…

They write together quietly, Momo occasionally showing him a character to ask his opinion on it. She had already finished with the first one, excitedly showing it to him in a bit of feverish excitement.

The strokes for ‘flower’ and ‘fire’ were lively and vibrant. It matched her perfectly. Toshiro had agreed immediately.

It was the second one they were having trouble with. Toshiro had suggested the characters for ‘spring’ and ‘tree’. It reminded Momo of Tobiume, and Momo didn’t exactly mind it for ‘spring’ matched with his own ‘winter’, but something still felt out of place.

“Isn’t it too early for spring?” In truth, it was more that she wanted more of him reflected in these strokes and lines. She places ‘sun’ next to ‘happiness’.

Hitsugaya-kun only shrugs. Momo could only smile at him fondly. “I hope they’re more like you,” she says as she idly traces the strokes for ‘wish’.

Hitsugaya-kun merely smirks back at her. “Then looks like we’re in conflict since I hope they’ll take after you.”

Momo sticks out her tongue in playful indignation. “I’m sure the kami-sama will listen to my request over yours. I’ve been collecting more luck after all.” ‘Clever and strong,’ was what she had prayed for, ‘just like their father’.

Hitsugaya-kun shakes his head in amusement. Peering over to her side, he looks at what she’s been working on, “That could work.”

Momo hums thoughtfully, looking at the character this way and that. It seems perfect – a wish, a hope, a prayer – but it didn’t seem to be quite exactly what they were looking for.

“What have you got?” She leans more to his side, before bursting into a fit of laughter. If Hitsugaya-kun is embarrassed, he makes a valiant effort not to show it. On his paper, the character for ‘big’ in bold, black, strokes. Momo’s face softens at seeing the character under it, ‘shine’. It might be her own imagination that it seems like it’s glowing.

“They’re perfect.”

…

They made it just in time for the fire festival. Perhaps it was incongruous for them to be burning something they’d been working on for days, but this was just its own kind of prayer.

Both of them hold paper lanterns, in his, ‘Hanabi’ in her own script, in hers, ‘Haruki’ in his. Small bright lights cupped into the palms of their hands. As one they let both lanterns go, up in the sky, where they’ll burn brightly and send all their prayers up to the sky.

Fervently, Momo clasps her hands together, Toshiro a steady and unwavering presence around her.

She hopes.

…

Even if they had hoped for peace to continue, truly their idyllic days couldn’t last. They were still commanding officers, and when Matsumoto shows up on their doorstop one day, he knows exactly what it means.

He knows, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Rangiku likes it no more than her taichou. She can’t even tease the both of them over the marks she spies not covered by Momo’s kimono. “Taichou…It’s Naruki City.”

He closes his eyes in aggravation, fingers closed over the bridge of his nose to stave off the migraine, as Momo and his Vice-captain look at him concerned.

For once, he wants to be selfish. It’s so close, too close. For once, he wants to forget about his captain’s cloak and his responsibilities and just stay here to shelter Momo from everything. Opening his eyes, he meets Momo’s own and is both equally dismayed and encouraged by the resolve he finds there.

Momo didn’t become a Shinigami to be protected. She became a Shinigami to protect. And it’s the same for him (except doesn’t she know by now, after everything, that she was the one he wanted to protect most of all).

Without words, she goes to get his captain’s cloak. If she feels his hands shake as she helps him put it on, then at least only she would know.

She cradles his face in her hands, arms going up to reach him now instead of down. He doesn’t know what she sees in his face, if it looks like he’s about to cry, but she only smiles calmly, ruffling his hair. When before, he had swatted her hand away, now he only leans into the simple comfort. He closes his eyes as he feels Momo draw him down and touch her forehead to his. His erratic heartbeat slows at hearing her breathe.

“I’m off.”

“Please go and come back,” she says as she bows on the engawa. There is no fear in her eyes, only trust as if telling him, ‘go and I’ll be here to welcome you when you return’. He wishes it was the same for him. He swallows before turning forward. He stops Matsumoto with a hand to her shoulder.

He has no words. “Matsumoto…”

Eyes widening in understanding, she starts worriedly, “The reports say there are at least five arrancars, taichou. I already commanded the rest of the troops stationed there to come back. I was planning to handle them myself…but the soutaichou said the both of us needed to be there.” Hitsugaya was glad she didn’t go by herself. He appreciated the soutaichou intervening on his behalf. Knowing Matsumoto, she would have rushed there headstrong and foolish for his sake.

All the points she raised were valid ones, but again all he could say was, “Matsumoto, please…” I need you here.

There were moments where no words needed to be said, and the communication between a captain and vice-captain could be almost telepathic. This was one such moment, and as Rangiku gazed up at her not-so-little anymore captain, she could only smile in resignation, “Gotcha, taichou. But when you come back, I’m expecting an all-expense paid vacation. I’ve been working my butt off! Hey, Momo,” she called back, already making her way into the house, as Momo gazed at him with a question in her eyes, “Let’s go together!” Hitsugaya only smiled back.

Committing the sight of his wife and vice-captain smiling together, he tightened his grip on Hyourinmaru and set off.

…

Both his mind and body were on auto-pilot. He was glad Hyourinmaru had his back. It wasn’t like back then when his zanpakuto had to artificially mature him just so he could handle his own bankai. He had fully matured in all senses of the word, and had full mastery of his true bankai.

It was good that he was alone. There was no collateral damage except the enemy so he could release Shikai Hyoketsu without repercussions. But without Matsumoto there to support him, he felt more alone than ever.

He was getting tired. He lost count of how many enemies he had slain, of his own wounds and bruises. There was only one thought in his mind – to get home no matter what.

Using his sword as a crutch, he breathed out heavily before suddenly slashing out Hyoryu Senbi at the new presence he felt.

The shadow dodged and clicked his tongue. “Is that anyway ta greet yer elders? Ya look like you’ve been through hell. Need a little hand?”

Disoriented, Hitsugaya could only gape at the newcomer, “Hirako?”

“The one and only.”

Hitsugaya might have thought he was hallucinating but there was no mistaking that too-wide grin and tacky haircut. “What are you doing here? Naruki City isn’t under your jurisdiction.”

That carefree smile suddenly turned serious, “No it’s not, but I know someone who is under my jurisdiction. And I’m sure she’s missin’ a neglectful husband.” Hitsugaya growled at that. “What’re ya doin’ here? Do I have ta tell my daughter to divorce you?”

“For the last time,” a vein ticked in his forehead, this seemed like an eerily familiar experience he was having, “She is not your daughter! And anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

He might have if not for another presence suddenly jumping in, “Oh, what? Am I interrupting a lover’s quarrel or something.”

“Nah, just an in-laws spat.”

What the hell?

He couldn’t decide what expression he was supposed to be showing. Maybe Hirako decided to finally take pity on him as he decided to answer him. “The soutaichou sent us because it looks like someone forgot to bring their vice-captain.” Heh, more like they persuaded him. Even if that softie hadn’t already been ready to pull him out after hearing he stupidly went alone, Shinji’s sure Lisa’s kick to his backside, and Nanao-chan’s sharp glare would just about do the trick. Eh, a few misplaced forms never hurt anyone. “Color me surprised when I found out Naruki City was actually under the fifth and the eight’s joint jurisdiction. Who coulda been so stupid as to put it under the tenth’s all this time?”

Hitsugaya didn’t know what was going on.

Shinji sighed. The kid could be so slow sometimes. “Oi, Hitsugaya. Lisa also brought her vice-captain. I’m sure two captains and a vice-captain would be more efficient than one captain. Yer not needed here, so wouldja just hurry on to where you’re supposed ta be already?”

Finally shaken out of his stupor, he could say nothing. He put his own misgivings aside, and bowed low.

“Thank you.”

As the tenth squad captain shunpoed out of there, Shinji let out a whistle. “What d’ya know? The kid has manners after all. Let’s hurry this up Lisa. I got a grandchild to welcome.” “Lame,” Lisa replied, completely deadpan.

He let it off.

It was a joyous occasion after all.

…

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t at home.

His mind was perfectly blank.

He couldn’t feel her reiatsu anywhere.

“Hitsugaya-taichou!”

What was his seventh seat doing here?

“Matsumoto fuku-taichou brought Hitsugaya fuku-taichou to the fourth.”

Hitsugaya-taichou immediately left without even greeting him, but Takezoe didn’t hold it against his captain. With a dozen children of his own, he’d been where the young man was now. He only hoped his captain would make it in time.

…

He doesn’t remember how he reached the fourth, only overwhelming panic.

He could feel the temperature lowering, but only distantly, the calls of his title heard in a vacuum as if he was somewhere very far away.

‘Hitsugaya-taichou, please reign down your reiatsu.’

‘Taichou, please control it, it might affect the patients.’

‘It might affect…’

“Taichou!”

He felt as if he was roughly woken up from sleep. Heavily, he lifted his head up, “Matsumoto…”

“Taichou,” Rangiku said more softly. Her little captain wasn’t so little anymore. More than once he’d had to support her when Shiba-taichou left, and even after…

But now, as she sees how he trembles under her hands on his shoulders, subtly curling into himself, eyes haunted, she is taken back to years past, to a little boy so afraid of hurting the people he loves.

Matsumoto’s voice brings him back. He can sense a cacophony of reiatsu, all mingling together, that it was hard to tell them all. Abarai with his daughter, both Kuchikis even, Kira, Hisagi, his squad, members from other squads, her friends, their colleagues, their friends.

But that only serves to forcefully remind him that he was doing it again, he can’t stop it, he’s the greatest danger to those around him, to her, he can’t ever protect her, and as he shivers, the ice creeps up even faster.

“Taichou,” Matsumoto says, voice still soft. Placing her palm firmly against his heart, she pleads, “Please. Listen.”

Boy

A thunderous sound, more presence than voice. Hyourinmaru

Shiro-chan

Toshiro

A sound like wind-chimes, laughter threading every word. He gasps.

“It’s alright,” Matsumoto assures him, smiling brightly. “She’s alright. She knows you’re here.”

…

In the end, both their wishes are granted.

Both their children have her hair, hers lit like a coal flame, his softer and reminding him of forests and trees, the coming of spring. His hair was too unique to be passed onto anyone else, she manages to joke, but no matter because she still got what she wished for. Rubbing both chubby cheeks and coaxing both eyes to open, he sees what she means when he sees his own eyes reflected back at him. Brightly shining with an inner light.

They would shine brightly, he vows to himself, as he envelops her, all of them, to him, while he buries his face against her hair.

“Shiro-chan,” she laughs, the happiest she’s been, “Are you crying?” She hardly if ever has seen him cry. She nuzzles her cheek to his. “What am I to do with my crybaby husband?”

He can’t even manage his usual ‘shut up’ amidst his tears, only hugging them closer. Thank you.

Momo smiles. The person you’re waiting for will come.

He did. They did.

They were all home.

Okaerinasai.

#hitsuhina #hinamori momo #hitsugaya toshiro #bleach #hitsuhina fic #hitsuhina fanfic #bleach fic #bleach fanfic #ensemble cast #lots of new year imagery #this was so self-indulgent but I loved writing it #ramblings about bleach #ramblings about hitsuhina #illumination

35 notes · View notes

four-white-trees · 7 months

Text

Sunday Six

It's the time of the week!

I've been working away and several RGG projects this week, and the one I'm most excited to show off is a lengthier fic that explores Kuwana's life as a high school teacher. This was originally meant to be a small vignette in a fic that explored all of Kuwana's transformation, but then the high school teacher took the fuck over. I'm very proud of it, however, and especially the bit I'm sharing today.

Tagging the collective @overdevelopedglasses @carbonatedcalcium @fire-tempers-steel @passthroughtime @woundedheartwithin @mike----wazowski @skysquid22

The lecture that day was over haiku, which Kitakata usually enjoyed, especially with third-years. By then, students had grown up with haiku all their lives, so he was able to pull a deeper discussion of meaning, construction, and language. He’d start with one that always got laughs from the class:

Over-ripe sushi,

The Master

Is full of regret.

- Yosa Buson

“What strikes you about this?” he asked, raking his gaze over the class. His eyes lingered on Kusumoto’s empty desk.

“Someone needs to learn how to make sushi,” Kawai said, drawing a laugh from Suzuki and Akaike.

“But he’s a Master,” Sawa pointed out. “He knows how to make sushi. I think there’s something very sad about someone who knows better but still makes such a basic mistake as preparing old sushi.” She locked her eyes with Kitakata then, a flare of indignation in her eyes. Kitakata plastered on a smile.

“Quite good, Sawa-chan,” he said. “Although perhaps sadness is not the emotion to take from this. Rather, think of it as a warning to remain humble in your craft. You can always make a mistake, no matter how good you are.”

The look in Sawa’s eyes seemed to intensify, and then she dropped them to her notebook as she scratched out some notes.

He moved on to a famous poem that everyone in the room was guaranteed to know.

An old silent pond...

A frog jumps into the pond,

splash! Silence again.

- Matsuo Bashō

“This one is about serene nature,” Suzuki offered. “I like it. It seems like such a peaceful scene.”

“That it is,” Kitakata said with a nod. “Notice how Bashō is able to paint a dynamic picture in so few words. The energy moves from stillness, to movement, and back to stillness, like the cycles of life itself.”

“Seems too boring to be real life,” Kawai suggested. “Maybe back in the samurai times this made sense, but today? We have cars, man.”

“So you’re saying this haiku lacks a sense of timelessness?” Kitakata pressed.

Kawai shrugged, but Akaike took up the conversation. “Yeah, I think it does. The modern world is just too different. I don’t even know the last time I saw a frog was.”

“Perhaps this can serve us modern people as a reminder to slow down, then,” Kitakata suggested.

“No way,” Kawai said. “You slow down, you fall behind.”

“Interesting perspective, Kawai-kun,” Kitakata said. He turned to Sawa. “What do you think, Sawa-chan?”

Sawa fiddled with her pencil, looking thoughtful. “I think there’s an overwhelming sense to the silence of the pond. Even though the frog disrupts the silence temporarily, it returns, and it’s like the frog had never even jumped at all.”

Kitakata let a silence hang after Sawa’s words, surprised by her perspective. The silence was disrupted, however, by Kawai and Suzuki’s laughter. “You’re such a downer, Sawa-chan,” Kawai said, earning him a glare from his classmate.

Shaking himself from the reverie, Kitakata moved on before Kawai and Sawa started arguing.

My life, -

How much more of it remains?

The night is brief.

- Masaoka Shiki

As Kitakata recited it, he caught Akaike and Kawai exchanging an incredulous look. “Now, I think this one resonates with me a little more than you,” Kitakata said. “You are all at the beginning of your lives, and you don’t get a sense of mortality until you’re an old man like me.”

Suzuki giggled. “You’re not old, sensei,” she said.

“See? That’s the correct response, very good, Suzuki-chan,” Kitakata said, and Suzuki giggled more. “Still, it is good to keep your own mortality in mind, even at your age,” he went on. “You aren’t invincible, as much as it may feel that way. Now, I’m not saying any of you are going to die young.” He paused and swept his gaze over the classroom again. Kawai rolled his eyes. “But you never know.” He smirked, and Akaike chuckled.

He lectured on a few more haiku, but the end of class came quickly. He dismissed the class, hoping to make a quick exit, when Sawa stood up. He recalled, then, that she had asked to talk to him the day before, and he had completely forgotten about it. But before he could address her, Kawai jumped up.

“Sensei,” he said, drawing Kitakata’s attention. He closed the distance between his desk and the podium in two long strides. Lowering his voice, he asked, “My grade’s pretty bad, huh? Think there’s a way I can make up some of those missed assignments?”

Kitakata sighed. “Kawai-kun, you know I don’t give out extra credit,” he responded. “That’s more work for me.”

Kawai smiled, embodying all the cocky self-assurance a seventeen-year-old could. “Yeah, but I’m your favorite student, right?” he said with laughter in his voice.

Behind him, Kitakata noticed Sawa’s shoulder sag. She gathered her backpack and left the room. He should have called to her to stay, as he had no intention of entertaining Kawai’s nonsense, but he was also eager to get home and relax. Perhaps whatever issue she had had already been sorted out.

“The best way to salvage yourself here is to stay on top of everything for the rest of the term,” Kitakata said firmly. “Then, Heaven help you, you may have a chance.”

If Kawai was disappointed by this response, he didn’t show it at all. “You got it, sensei,” he said. He grabbed his notebook, which Kitakata had noticed he hadn’t written in all class, and joined his usual crew out in the hall.

“Idiot kid,” Kitakata muttered under his breath. He gathered his notes together and picked up the textbook he had been teaching from. As he placed his bookmark back in it, his eyes fell over another haiku. Perhaps it was the end-of-the-day fatigue, but the words caused a prickle of goosebumps to kiss his neck.

I kill an ant

and realize my three children

have been watching.

- Kato Shuson

#writing #fanfiction #ryu ga gotoku #lost judgment #sunday six #jin kuwana

14 notes · View notes

eliotqueliot · 2 months

Text

Mosaic Haiku, Chapter 4

Welcome! I'm writing a series of haiku about the Mosaic! Disclaimer, I don't own any of these images (they're from the TV series adapted from Lev Grossman's series, The Magicians, which aired on SyFy). I'm just writing about them, ekphrastic style (seeing the image is an important reference when reading the poem, so I wanted to group them together). To read more about the project, the form, my author's notes (including a few more haiku), and to eventually see some sketches I made of these scenes, please visit the page for this chapter at AO3 (link below). I'm going to be rolling out the sketches as I have time, so please stay tuned for the rerelease! Either way, I hope you'll enjoy these reflections on the best episode of TV (The Magicians, Season 3, Episode 5, “A Life in the Day”) and my favorite ship, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh!

Mosaic Haiku - Chapter 4 - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

(Please also find some cool images for "A Life in the Day" at Getty and SyFy.)

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

Eliot

I’ll spend a lifetime contemplating life’s beauty, as long as you’re there.

Banter

Q says: “Oh, really?” El’s tease: “Don’t you think so, Q?” Still fun, all these years.

Subtext: (You’re so cute.) (No, you.) That smile. Tongue in cheek. We mean: (I love you.)

(See the lovely slowed down gif of this moment from The Game of Nerds, "The Magicians 'A Life in the Day' Is the Best Episode of the Series to Date: S3:E5 Review with Gifs!" Posted by Michael, Feb. 14, 2018)

Eliot

That one syllable: "Hey." The sweetest sound I know. Kissing you all night.

Quentin

I'll do anything you say, but hot damn, you're in trouble now, sweetheart.

Time’s tricky. As long As we’re here, love, making art, We’ll never grow old.

Eliot

You’ve got a golden opportunity, Q. Please tease me back. Yes? Good.

We got so much time: Make art. Make life. Make love. We had a family.

Eliot

How could I not love all that you are, Q? My heart is yours forever.

Quentin

We weren't finished. You're not gone as long as I'm here to remember.

Our own quest, at last! Thank god we’re here together! Hope it never ends.

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

To read all the chapters of Mosaic Haiku on Tumblr or check on which AO3 chapters have sketches posted:

If you'd like to leave comments/kudos, or see the sketches I'm making when they're available, please visit:

#EliotQueliot's Mosaic Haiku #queliot fanpoetry #queliot fanfic #eliot waugh #quentin coldwater #otp: proof of concept #eliot x quentin #quentin x eliot #the mosaic #the magicians 3x05 #the magicians fanfic #the magicians fanpoetry #my fic #my poetry

4 notes · View notes

asshlyyyy · 2 years

Text

Elvis (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Chapter 2

The first chapter to include Elvis! This is what we’re all here for right? I’m going to be frank... I have no idea what I’m doing with this story and I’m going off a whim. This story will pretty much include everything you could ever want. (Hopefully)

If you did not see my notes for the whole story... please check out the first chapter. It explains that I will be using music from different time frames, but trying to keep away from anything 2000+ Without further due enjoy!

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 4.1k

You pushed open the glass door and heard the ding that announced your entrance to the workers. You looked around for a spot to sit and found one in the corner near the front window. It gave you a great view of the sky and the clouds. Your favorite inspiration. By the time you arrived at the diner, it was roughly two. This just so happened to be your favorite diner in town. Luckily, it just so happened to be the same one your best friend worked out.

You pulled out your little notebook and placed it on the table. You pulled it open to a blank page and wrote down the lyrics Mr. Phillips wanted in a song. You tapped against the table as you tried to figure out a tune for the song. You closed your eyes and tried to engulf yourself in the song. You started to hum along to the tune to fully engross yourself. The only song you've ever finished writing before was a very short one. It could be described as a haiku really. Songs are just poems in the end.

Your hand started to ever so slightly write down the lyrics you were imagining, but it was still tricky without any instruments. Sure, you had your guitar at home... but what help would it do when your step-father was always home? He never liked that you were into music. It thought music wasn't meant for ladies. They were only supposed to stay home, cook dinner, do the laundry, and clean.

Despite all his views on women, he still signed. Mostly because my mother pushed him into doing it. He still got you to... well he forced you, to perform at his awards or even when he would just address the city. He figured if there was a calm sense of singing, it would calm the crowds if there was bad news. You hated those performances. You never got to express your real emotions or played what you wanted to. They were set songs you were forced to sing to make him proud.

"If you don't like, the world you're living in," You mumbled softly to yourself. Trying to figure out if the words would sound right together if sung. You were trying to be quiet, didn't exactly want to bother anyone around you.

"Take a look around... at least you got friends..." You wrote down the lyrics that were coming to you, for once in your life... Writing a song always took longer than you imagined. You wondered how long it took some of those famous hits to be written. Did it just come to them? What was their secret?

"You see I called my old lady... for a friendly word-"

"Haylo, you know I can't have you singing in here for free." A voice broke you out of your thoughts. You turned and spotted Cela, your best friend, staring at you with a pot of coffee in her hands.

"Oh my god, Cela, I got so much news for you." You smiled, excited to tell her the news.

"You can tell me when you order something," she motioned towards the menu.

"Oh, right right. Just get me my usual, thank you, love you," She shook her head at your foolishness. She then turned on her heel and walked towards the kitchen to put in your order. You looked down at the book and at the top of the page, you wrote 'Let's go Crazy' and went ahead to try to write down the rest of the lyrics.

As much as you figured, it took a long time. In fact, by the time they were closing you barely had half the song done. This was much harder than you imagined. So, when you were packing up your belongings, Cela was by your side with a sad smile on her face. She knew all about your struggle to write lyrics or even full songs. After you gathered all your things the two of you walked out.

"You know, usually instruments help when creating music." Cela pointed up as she locked up.

"Yeah no duh... I only own a guitar so it doesn't help much." You explained as the two of you walked down the sidewalk.

"What's the point of your family marrying into rich and asshole then?" She somewhat joked. She wasn't the biggest fan of your new step-father, and you didn't blame her. He was a racist dickhead anyways.

"I don't know, my momma must see something in him. I don't," you shrugged the question off. You didn't question what your mother did. She knew how to take care of herself and you trusted what she was doing.

"So, how far are you into the song?" She then asked, turning her attention towards you.

"Roughly halfway. I just can't think of anything," you replied.

"Then let's head to my friend's garage. He and his buddies play all the time there for people. He's got every imaginable instrument you could think of. I'm positive he'll let you borrow them," she suggested. A smile on her face.

"Are you sure? Don't you want to go to bed?" You questioned her. You knew she was working for most of the day.

"And miss hearing you play? Hell no," she chuckled and clasped her arm with yours. You smiled at her playfulness and just nodded.

"We're not heading to the club right?" You asked to double-check. Don't get it wrong, you loved Club Handy with all your heart, but it was no place to write a song.

"Course not, it's a garage where live music plays." She explained as she lead the way to her buddies.

"Good, I don't need people giving me the side eye." You laughed gently. You knew if someone saw you in that club trying to write... they would laugh their heart off.

"Please, everyone knows you. Not one of them bats an eye." She explained. She was right... you knew basically everyone around these parts.

It took a while till you guys arrived at the garage. You were pretty sure you knew who owned the garage, but you weren't a hundred percent. Cela approached the garage and banged on it. You heard muffled swear words and some banging before someone came out to greet you guys.

"Jesus, it's just you, Cela." The guy sighed in relief and looked over at me.

"Well look who it is, miss Haylo. Haven't seen you in a while." He smiled once he spotted the familiar glow.

"Been busy with music," you laughed gently, a slight shrug to your shoulders. "You guys want to come in?" He then asked.

"That's actually why we're here. Haylo has to write a song and we were wondering if she could use your instruments?" Cela asked.

"Of course of course, come in." He waved you guys in. You followed suit and walked into the garage. It was pretty decked out with anything you could imagine.

"Oh wow," you spoke softly and looked around at the instruments, dropping your bag down on an open surface.

"You like? My father gets them all imported." Abe spoke proudly.

"Love," you answered and let your fingers run across the clean instruments. He really did have every single kind of instrument.

"Well, you can use anything. Free range."

"Thanks, Abe." You flashed him a smile and grabbed your notebook to get this song finished. You walked over to the piano and opened up to the page that held your song. You looked at the lyrics and started to figure out the introduction to the song.

Just like that, the sounds of all the keys went off as you were jointed awake.

"Oh shit, Haylo," someone shook you awake.

"Huh?" You barely said.

"It's 11:46" You lifted your head up in one swift motion.

"I-" You looked around and noticed you were still in Abe's garage. This wasn't good. You must've fallen asleep once you finished the song.

"Oh shit," you mimicked your friend. "I- I got to go," you said and stood up.

"It's gonna take you forever to get there." Cela pointed out.

"I'll run," You replied and stuffed all your things into your bag, double-checking to make sure you had your songbook. If you left without it... you would surely be fucked without it.

"Don't go knocking into the wrong people," Cela warned you. She was right, if you ran into the one person... well... you just didn't.

"Yeah yeah," you nodded quickly. Your hand reached for the doorknob.

"Call me when you can!" She called out after you as you ran out the door.

"Got it!" You called to her as you took to the streets. You were thankful you didn't wear any type of crazy shoes. You only had roughly ten minutes to get to the studio and it was more than a ten-minute walk, if you recalled it took you guys twenty minutes or so. You really just screwed yourself up big time. Raymond was going to be mad, and Mr. Phillip is going to think you aren't worth his time.

You knew you probably looked like a mess right now. That was just going to have to do for now. You had a few things in your bag to help... but at the end of the day... you were wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Hopefully, no one will notice... hopefully.

Just right in front of you... you saw the Sun Studios sign in sight. You smiled at yourself thinking you made it just in time. Sure, you make be a bit smelly... but that's okay. Taking your eyes away from in front of you, you ran straight into someone. You let out a squeal from the sudden contact and faced yourself for impact to the ground. Thankfully, whomever you ran into... was able to catch themselves and you.

"Ya alrigh' darlin'?" You turned to look at the person you ran into and were thankful that they weren't mad, but holy Jesus. Someone could get lost in those gorgeous eyes. You just were lost for words. You didn't even know what to say-

"Miss?"

"I- oh I- I am so sorry," you stumbled to push yourself back up. Lightly and awkwardly patting him on the chest. Clearing your throat to try and cut that thick line of awkwardness.

"Don't worry too much 'bout it." He smiled at you gently. You could honestly just stare at him for ages, he was honestly so gorgeous to look at. When you didn't reply he looked at you with a worried look. It's like every moment you looked up at him, it's like... you were brought back to the happiest place on earth.

"Everything all right?" He asked. This man... not only was he handsome... he was also caring.

"Yeah y-yeah," you nodded gently but then it clicked in your head. You were too busy to realize that you were late, due to your being lost in this mans whole appearance.

"Oh shit... I- I- I have to go! Thanks again for not being mad!" You called out to the mysterious man as you ran towards the studios. You pushed into the door and spotted an upset Raymond.

"I am so sorry, I was up all night finishing up the song. I apologize," you said to him frantically.

"Don't worry about it, let's just get in there." He said and opened the door for you.

Little did you know the guy you ran into walked into the studio as well. Raymond led your over to the recording studio and told you to sit down. He let you know that he was going to get Mr. Phillips and the three of you would have a talk. You opened your bag to find the hairbrush you carried around to fix up your hair. You then pulled out your mirror to make sure you looked presentable enough. You couldn't help but think back to that mysterious guy. How did God make someone so gorgeous? It honestly shocked you how gorgeous he was. The few loose buttons of his shirt. God, you would've loved to be with him.

Part of you wished to see him again. Get to know him... Ya know... possibly become more? Not all just his looks of course. You weren't like those disgusting boys out there who feasted on those who were just attractive. Most men do that... your step-father did it. It was very rare for a guy to fall for a girl for more than her looks. I mean, it is the 50s after all.

"Ms. Haylo Blakely. Nice to meet you again." Mr. Phillips walked in and held a hand to you.

"Oh yes! Nice to meet you too, Mr. Phillips." You smiled. You stood up and took his hand in yours. The two of you shook hands.

"Just call me Sam." He nodded and backed away. "I'm working on getting your song out. I'm speaking to a few of my buddies." He explained the situation.

"That's awesome! Thank you again for this opportunity once again." You thanked him with a smile.

"Don't have to thank me. I want to help get your voice out there." He smiles brightly. He was such a nice man.

"It's an amazing opportunity," you spoke. Still shocked about the whole thing, your hands were slightly shaking from the excitement.

"Now, do you have that song?" He then asked. Straight to the point.

"I do yes," you went to reach for your songbook and froze when you couldn't find it. "Oh no no," you muttered lightly.

"Is everything okay?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Um... I-"

"I hate to be a bother, fellas, but I think I have this dame's book." Your eyes quickly found who was speaking. Of course, it was that gorgeous guy you ran into just outside the studio. But it made sense because you had your book when you left. It must’ve fallen out when you bumped into him.

"Oh my gosh," You rushed over to him and took it from his hand. "Thank you thank you," you breathed out and walked back to where your bag was and opened it up.

"Elvis, I'm glad you're here," Sam spoke as you got lost in your thoughts.

"Of course, anything for you," Elvis replied and leaned up against the door frame.

"This is the girl I was talking to you about over the phone," Sam explained as their conversation officially muted out of your brain.

You flipped through the pages to look for the page where you wrote the song and music notes down. You wanted to make everything easy. You circled the guys' parts where they would sing. You marked down which instruments would be used. You wanted it to be an easy, clean, fun experience.

"Alright, Haylo. I'm going to get the guys in here and we're going to get the song recording,” Sam broke you out of your thoughts.

"Do you have someone who can play piano? Or the synthesizer?" You asked him. It was important that you got that sound in it. It played an important role, just as much as the guitar did.

"I do yes," Sam nodded.

"Can you bring them in also?" You then asked as you went to set up.

"I can," Sam nodded. The three boys then left the recording room as I pulled out the papers from the book and made sure everything was perfect. You picked up the guitar and hummed slightly the words to the song as you held the papers in your hand.

On the other side of the glass stood Raymond and Elvis. The guy you had barely just met. They talked amongst themselves for a bit, but you had no idea what they were talking about. You weren't paying attention to them either, but you could've guessed it had something to do with music.

"Haylo," Charlie smiled. You returned his smile and waved to him and the other boys.

"Okay, sorry if I look like a mess or kind of just all over the place. It's all pretty easy. I have everything written down." You started to explain as you handed out papers to the boys. "The parts you sing are circled. I will be giving you guys signals every so often but everything should work out in the end."

"Shouldn't we practice a bit first?" One of them ask. You then shook your head.

"I trust you guys will get it," You smiled and went towards the microphone.

"Alright, Haylo, you all ready?" Sam asked from the other side of the glass. You looked at him and nodded. You fixed the strap on your guitar and took a deep breath. This is your moment to impress Mr. Phillips. Don't mess this up... Don't mess it up.

"This is something I call... Let's Go Crazy," You wave your finger around and nodded at the guys as you got situated in front of the microphone. You gave the guy at the synthesizer a nod as he started to play.

"Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to get through this thing called life." You started to play the guitar as the other instruments came in.

"Electric word, life. It means forever and that's a mighty long time. But I'm here to tell you there's something else. The afterworld."

"If you don't like... The world you're living in. Take look around. At least you got friends. You see I called my old lady. For a friendly word. She picked up the phone dropped it on the floor. Ah, ah, is all I heard. Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down? Oh no, let's go. Let's go crazy, let's get nuts, let's look for the purple banana until they put us in the truck, let's go."

You pulled away from the mic a little to get into the rhythm before moving back to let out a slight moan... It sounds weird to say that out loud, or even in my mind... But it worked, and you were trying to make a statement. Well, you were more or less trying to impress Mr. Phillip. You really wanted to be able to make music. You wanted to make people happy with your music. You were pretty sure everyone was taken back by what you did. Well, they were. Part of you felt embarrassed...

"We're all excited. But we don't know why. Maybe it's cause. We're all gonna die. When we do. What's it all for? You better live now. Before the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. Tell me, are we gonna let the elevator brings us down? Oh, no let's go. Let's go crazy let's go nuts. look for the purple banana until they put us in the truck, lets go"

"C'mon baby. Let's get nuts. Yeah." You pulled away and played deeply into the guitar before you moved back towards the microphone. "Let's go crazy" You pulled away once more to focus on your guitar. You didn't want to make any mistakes.

"Are we gonna let de-elevator bring us down? Oh, no let's go. Go. I said let's go crazy. Let's go. Go,"

"Dr. Everything'll-Be-Alright. Will make everything go wrong. Pills and thrills and daffodils will kill. Hang tough, children... He's coming... He's coming... Coming" You looked at the guys and nodded to calm down the instruments for now. You then went ahead and started the guitar solo you had implicated. After awhile you looked the guys again and nodded for when they should jump back in.

"Take me away," you sang out the last part.

You let out heavy breaths and smiled at yourself. With all the instruments playing when they needed, it sounded amazing. It was definitely something no one has ever heard before. You were honestly surprised that everything went perfectly. You didn't stutter, you didn't miss a note or hit the wrong note. Sure, you weren't sure how people were going to react... but you loved it.

"She's definitely something," Elvis spoke softly. He was frozen in his spot. He didn't know what he had just witnessed. He's never heard of a women that could sing or play like that. He's heard a lot of women sing... but none like you.

"That's what I'm saying." Sam nodded in agreement. Elvis watched as you laughed at something one of the bandmates said. You caught him by surprise. Even when you ran into him. The first thing he noticed was your hair. Then your sun kissed skin. It’s like you were an angel to him. You were certainly something different though. You were someone he wanted to get to know more.

"Haylo," You looked over at the glass to see your manager speaking to you. "You did amazing."

"I'd say... she did fuckin' amazing," you heard Elvis speak behind him, The compliment made your cheeks flush with pink.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Haylo, I think you're going to get big." Sam started to speak.

"Really?" You asked softly, a smile on your face.

"Of course, and I think Raymond here knows it." He patted Raymond on the shoulder.

"I've always known it," Raymond tried to reassure that he knew of your talent. He was your manager and his goal was to make you big, in some type of way.

"Aww," you smiled and waved your hand down. "Stop it, you making me blush," you giggled and put the guitar down.

"Well, I'm sure you might've noticed this lovely boy here," Sam said as he held his arm out to Elvis. He walked forward a bit and sent you a wink. Jesus, that man can really make a girl weak in her knees.

"Yeah uh... kind of ran into him," you chuckled in response.

"Well, I brought him here because you two will work together to make a song. There's already a bunch of positive buzz around Elvis and once they hear your song there will be a bunch of buzz around you as well. So, why not get two great artists together to create a song."

Now, you have no problem singing with this handsome boy. You were more worried about the time frame. You figured you were going to need a whole new song by tomorrow. You barely got sleep last night, and not to mention... You looked like an absolute mess. Raymond must of saw the worry in your face and quickly spoke up.

"You two will have a couple of days to write the song, practice it, and then record it." Raymond calmed your nerves.

"Of course, we do want this out quickly, so you will have a deadline but that'll be in a couple of days," Sam explained. You nodded in response.

"So, you and Elvis will be spending a lot of time together. You two can go in any direction you want. I put my trust in you two." Sam explained. You nodded a response. It all sounded fine. All though, you never really heard Elvis sing before. You figured it was because you haven't been able to listen to the radio. You also haven't been at your sister's place for any new gossip.

"I'm going to have to work out some things. Elvis doesn't have a manager yet, so... it's gonna be a bit tough. So, you get as much time as it takes for me to figure this out." Raymond explained. You nodded once again, taking in all the information.

"To write the song right?" You asked for clarification.

"To write the song, to practice the song, and to record the song." Sam clarified. You sent a nervous smile and nodded. "You two can also use the studio whenever you need to." Sam brought up and looked over at the clock.

"We're gonna let you two get right into it," Raymond said and looked over at Sam to talk. You let out a sigh and sat down at the seat. You now had to write a whole other song. You barely got through the first one.

Elvis headed over to where you were sitting and approached you. How could someone like you be so scared or nervous to write a song, he wondered. That song you just performed... he was honestly taken back. He couldn't even label the type of music he just heard. He watched as you flipped through the pages of your songbook quickly. The way your multicolored nails danced around the pages. He was lost in his thoughts. He didn't even know you, yet he felt so close to you.

Want to join my taglist?

Taglist: @pumkiinpasties

#austin butler elvis #austin butler #austin butler x reader #elvis x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis imagine

128 notes · View notes

justabooknerdposts · 9 months

Note

In The Last Olympian, after they received the gifts, what do you think happened? how was percy and annabeth after he turned down immortality? I imagine them trying to talk to each other but always someone coming to talk to them. and when they get home with that moment they're leaving in the book

*This one focuses on Percy and Annabeth right after the Olympian Council rewards them**Still closed to new requests, just catching up**

The Olympian Council broke up shortly after Percy walked through the Cyclopes honor guard, which was fine with Annabeth. She was still dazed that she’d been named the official architect of Olympus, charged with redesigning the half-destroyed city. But even that had been temporarily overshadowed by the fact that Percy had just turned down Zeus’s offer of immortality and then turned to look at her.

She left the throne room as quickly as she could without being too obvious about it (she hoped). While she walked, her mind was buzzing. What exactly did she want to say?

So, you came back alive. I think I owe you a kiss.

War’s over. Prophecy’s over. And I think I owe you a kiss.

Look, I know it’s been a crazy long day, but I think I owe you a kiss.

Ugh, why was this so hard? Annabeth moistened her lips, then gave herself a mental shake. After everything else they’d done the last few days, this part shouldn’t feel so difficult. But quite frankly, she almost thought it’d be less intimidating to tangle with Kronos again. Or at least a few dracaenae and maybe a Hyberborean giant or two.

All of her, admittedly half-made, plans went immediately out of her head, though, when she found Percy waiting for her just outside the throne room doors.

“Hey,” she said, a little breathlessly.

“Hey.” He grinned. “How’re you feeling, official architect of Olympus?”

She gave a small laugh. “Honestly? A little overwhelmed. But excited. Plus, Apollo fixed my arm,” she demonstrated bending and straightening it, “so that’s good, too.”

“Definitely.” Percy took a deep breath, then moved fractionally closer to her, causing Annabeth’s heart to start racing. “So—”

“You are welcome about that arm.” A voice interrupted whatever Percy had been about to say. Apollo approached them, human-sized and beaming, dressed like a member of a boy band. “I will accept a burnt offering of the dessert of your choice.”

“Of course, Lord Apollo,” Annabeth said, trying to swallow back her disappointment at his terrible timing. “I really appreciate your help.”

“Obviously.” Apollo held up his hands. “Now, I’ve been working on a haiku—”

“Gee, Lord Apollo, we’d love to stay and listen,” Percy said, “but we’ve bothered all of you on Olympus for long enough. We’d better go.” He grabbed Annabeth’s hand and they walked quickly away before the god could start spouting poetry.

“Sorry about that,” Percy said as they started down the hill. He hadn’t let go of her hand, and Annabeth didn’t mind. “I don’t want to be rude and piss any of them off so soon, but I’ve heard Apollo recite before and—”

“You made the right call,” Annabeth said. Tentatively, she squeezed his hand. Percy shot her a nervous smile and returned the pressure.

Unfortunately, before they could continue their conversation, Percy spotted Hermes in a courtyard off the main road.

Percy glanced at her, then said, “I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

“You sure?” Annabeth asked. But the look on his face was equal parts determined and resigned. She also knew it probably wouldn’t be best for her to join him in talking to Hermes right now. Her heart squeezed thinking of Luke, but she wasn’t ready to focus on that. “Yeah, you’re sure.”

Annabeth squeezed his hand again, then let go before continuing to weave her way down through Olympus towards the elevator, making mental notes about various buildings as she did so, even while her fingers were still tingling from Percy’s hand in hers.

***

More unfortunately, they still didn’t get a chance to talk, even once Percy rejoined her at the elevator, smelling strangely like smoke. Once they reached the lobby, his mom and Paul were waiting for them, then Nico ran in to tell them that Rachel had absconded with Blackjack, and all of that took precedence. On the plus side, when Apollo appeared at Camp Half-Blood to anoint his new oracle, he didn’t seem to remember that Percy and Annabeth had run away from him on Olympus.

The rest of the day was hectic as campers returned from the city and both the wounded and the dead needed to be attended to.

Finally, though, as dinner approached, things began to calm down. An idea came to Annabeth and her tired brain ground back into action. After all, as she’d told Percy years ago, Athena always had a plan.

“Hey, Tyson, can you help me with something?”

#pjo #fanfic #percabeth #fanfiction #ff #writing #stories #percy jackson #pjo fanfiction #request

13 notes · View notes

tomjamesavery · 3 months

Text

Hobbies, Haikus, and Hinny Written for the Ginnyversary Bingo Challenge with the prompt: B4 — "Writing a haiku is so fun. Make sure to get the syllables right"

Read on: AO3

Ginny felt tired and drained, as she sat down onto their living room sofa, letting out an exhausted sigh.

She had just come home after a long and grueling day of training for the upcoming Quidditch season.

As they only had about two weeks of training time left their regiment was tight, six days a week, and eight to ten hours of workouts, runs, yoga, stretching, and of course flying.

They played friendlies against foreign European teams weekly as well, which only added to the total workload.

But now she let her mind drift for a second, relishing in the direly needed quietness of their beautiful home.

Harry hadn ’t arrived yet, he had recently been assigned a new case, and it wasn’t uncommon that he stayed in the office until late in the evening.

But Ginny was used to it, since they were both early in their careers, working long shifts was no rarity for either of them.

She observed the old grandfather clock that was steadily ticking, it stood between the mantled fireplace and one of their many ornate bookshelves, the Black’s-, or to be more accurate, -Sirius had left Harry, together with a fortune of old and fine furniture.

The ticking noise calmed Ginny, it seemed to fill her mind with planned steadiness, always on time, every second, you could count on it.

She needed a hobby, something to keep her grounded, something to keep her mind on a constant swing, away from this zero to a hundred and back, that her daily training regiment brought. She needed balance, badly.

She glanced to her right, where-, under one of the big living room windows, -stood a dark oak desk, in which’s drawers, she knew, her writing gear rested.

Maybe it was time again, she thought, she had always loved to write, didn't matter if journalistic articles or little stories, as long as she was bringing words to paper, she felt at home. It calmed her and yet kept her mind working, in a steady, relaxed, and healthy way.

Before she could get herself to stand up from the sofa to check on her writing equipment, she heard someone step in through the front door.

Her eyes wandered to the dressing room, where she heard some shuffling before her husband stepped into the living room, a big smile plastered over his face.

“Evening Gin-“ He quickly stopped in his tracks, looking at her in concern before he continued. “How was your day, you look drained?” Harry asked, as he swiftly closed the distance, plopping himself down onto the sofa next to her.

“’ Am okay,” Ginny admitted. “Just a long day, and I was kinda thinking about something.” She leaned into him as his hand instinctively snaked around her, pulling her closer.

“But first tell me what has you grinning like you just won the goblin lottery?” She smiled, her head leaning against his right shoulder, making Harry snort.

“Oh, we just finally managed to discover a major lead on the case that has been bugging us for the last five weeks, all confidential tho! No don’t look at me like that, and you know that even if would tell you, without the context it would just be convoluted and boring.” He explained a grin on his lips, as Ginny stared at him giving him her best puppy eyes before simply poking him in the ribs as he made no sign of telling her about it.

He only leaned in and gently kissed her forehead in response, making a million butterflies take off in Ginny’s stomach. How that man could still make her feel like that, she had no idea.

“Now tell me, what were you thinking about?” Harry asked, he had pulled back, now looking at her in interest.

Ginny’s lips curled into a smile as she told him of her plans to maybe start writing in her free time again.

“I just don’t know what, I am not even picky.” She explained. “I thought about journalistic Quidditch work, but maybe I should start with something simpler, something smaller, to get me back into the flow of it.” She outlined, now turning towards her husband, eyes wide.

“Am I even making sense?”

Harry simply kissed her on her lips, making her swell in love and confidence before he spoke up.

“Gin, you're the most talented writer I know, your articles for the Hogwarts Herald were unparalleled, I know without a doubt, that whatever you set your mind on, it will turn out wonderful.” He told her honestly, and she felt herself relax at his words, now cuddling up against his chest as warmth filled her body.

“But if you want to start small I might have an idea!” She could hear the grin on his face from his voice alone, as he continued.

“One of my colleagues at work, loves writing little poems, he spends half of his break doing nothing else.” Harry chuckled.

“But there’s this special type, they’re called Haiku, it’s a Japanese type of poem that normally is made up of seventeen syllables and three sentences, he told us all about them,” Harry explained.

“He always scribbles them to get his mind in the mood. So maybe that could work for you as well!”

Ginny thought about it for a second, that did sound like a nice idea, but wasn’t that complicated? But maybe that was exactly what she needed to get her mind going.

“Isn’t it hard tho?” She asked, maybe Harry’s colleague had told him more.

“Like especially to keep track of everything?”

Harry only shook his head. “No, writing a Haiku is fun. Make sure to get the syllables right, and everything, it’s a nice little warm-up challenge to get the mind going, like stretches before a workout!” He pointed out.

“Hmm…”

Was all Ginny had to say to that, but honestly she thought her husband was right. That sounded exactly like what she needed right now, something she could easily and quickly do, yet something that still challenged her to a degree.

She swiftly jumped to her knees, now straddling Harry, almost making him jump in the process.

They locked eyes, and Ginny lost herself in the emerald green, almost fumbling her next words.

“Sometimes you do have your uses.” She teased, a mischievous grin crossing her features, making Harry snort in response, yet a visible blush on his cheeks.

“And I think I am in the mood to use you a bit more right now.” She huskily whispered, before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling him towards herself, their mouths fiercely meeting as they melted into each other.

The writing could wait, they had something more important to do now.

#hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry x ginny #fluff #ginny lovers #ginny potter #married hinny #post war hinny

4 notes · View notes

starrysnowdrop · 2 years

Note

A selection of smaller questions to fill in some gaps in my knowledge - apologies if any of this is covered elsewhere and I have missed it.

How did Yume receive the large scar across her abdomen? It sounds like it was quite a serious injury. Did it take long to recover from? Is she self-conscious about it or does she see it in a more positive light? Has Graha asked her about it? How does she feel about it being touched?

Tell me more about Yume's tattoo? Presumably the imagery of the Phoenix is something that resonated with her? How old was she when she had this completed? Are tattoos considered respectable in Hingan culture? Is there a class aspect to this? And if so was there an element for Yume of marking her transition from noble's daughter to her rebirth as a freelance ronin?

I really enjoyed reading about Yume's interests and skills, but I was wondering what makes her laugh? Does she laugh easily? Does she make jokes herself? Or does her more introverted nature tend to mean she avoids making herself the centre of attention?

What kind of poetry does Yume write? Haikus or Free Verse or something more structured? Does she share her work with others? Has she ever written a poem about or for Graha?

Finally a mildly NSFW and entirely optional question about tails. I won't press you on the mechanics of intimacy in that regard, but how does Yume manage having spikes on her tail - or rather how does Graha manage it? I've no idea what happens to Au Ra tails during moments of excitement, but spiked tails thrashing around an exposed Graha, well I just worry a little. On a more positive note, assuming their respective tails are reasonably prehensile, are they able to...intertwine?

Oh wow, I got lots of different Mimble asks!! Yay I’m excited to get so many good questions about Yume!! I’ll list them by topic so that it’s kinda easier to read. Also, PLEASE heed the content/trigger warnings on certain sections ahead!

The Scar

Content Warning: Ritualistic Suicide/Seppuku, Attempted Suicide, Emotional Abuse, Slight Depictions of Self-Harm, and Major Surgery; Please skip to the next section if any of this might trigger you!

Yume’s scar is her biggest insecurity, and a sign of her disgrace and shame. Yume rarely talks about the scar, and most people don’t have a clue what it’s about, and only a handful actually know the story behind it.

The scar is self inflicted, as Yume was in the middle of committing seppuku, a ritualistic suicide that was reserved only for samurai in order to regain their honor. Yume had disobeyed her father and refused to marry who her father chose for her to marry. She told her father that she couldn’t live with the shame, and so she prepared to take her own life.

I’ll try to not be too graphic, but seppuku is when the samurai cuts open their belly, and so Yume had sliced open the right side of her abdomen to right before her belly button, until her father arrived and stopped her. He ordered his healers to begin healing her injury immediately so that she didn’t die from the open wound.

Yume’s father then told her that he would not allow her to commit seppuku and that she must live with her shame instead. Instead of death, she would be banished from her clan and her home, forced to live as a ronin, a samurai with no master, for the rest of her days.

As soon as she was able to be moved, which took about a few days, her mentor Auron and a handful of his samurai took Yume to Kugane, as he knew that she would be safe from her father’s men there.

Yume wouldn’t be fully healed for about a few weeks, and it still remains a problem for her now, because any new injury to her abdomen could reopen her wounds externally or internally. In the future, Yume almost dies for this very reason. Her wounds are reopened while she is giving birth to her daughter Hikari, and as a result, she needs to have a full hysterectomy.

Of the handful of people that know about her life, her ex fiancé Cid was told details over time, slowly getting the full story as she learned to trust him.

G’raha, however, figured it out as soon as he saw her scar while they had a vacation day in Costa del Sol. He had read a lot about the samurai of the Far East, their history and their cultural practices. So as soon as he saw the scar and it’s location, he put two and two together and told Yume that he knows what it is. Yume confessed everything to him in that moment, and she broke down in front of him, but G’raha comforted her. After this trip to Costa del Sol, and how they both told each other so much of their lives, they realize that they have fallen in love with each other, but they don’t tell each other this for a long time.

Now, Yume has grown to accept her scar as an important part of her. She has learned to be proud of surviving her attempted seppuku, and it sure helps that G’raha tends to kiss her scar and tells her that she’s beautiful as she is, scar and all.

The tattoo

If her scar is one half of Yume’s journey from the Daimyo’s daughter to Ronin, then her tattoo is the other half. Here’s a representation of what her tattoo looks like:

Yume got her Phoenix tattoo on her back at the age of 19, after her banishment from her home and her clan, and it symbolizes her “rebirth” from the daimyo’s daughter destined to follow in her father’s footsteps, to a ronin, no master and finally having found the freedom that she always craved. In another way, it could also represent the “death” of her childhood and her “rebirth” as an adult woman who now must write her own story.

The imagery of fire and birds always resonated with Yume, as fire was also a favorite symbol of the Aino clan as a whole, and Yume’s favorite animals are birds of all kinds, so she naturally always loved the myth of the Phoenix, or the “firebird” as she knew it as.

Also, you are correct in assuming that there’s a sort of stigma associated with tattoos in Hingan culture (in fact this is true from Japanese history, not just making it up). It’s called Irezumi, and though many foreigners would find the traditional tattooing style to be beautiful, in Hingashi it is a sign of being a criminal, and at times it was even used as a form of punishment for prisoners, so Yume could never have a tattoo as long as she was the daughter of a daimyo. But when she was banished from her home and her clan, she found the tattoos to be beautiful and she wanted it to symbolize her new life as a ronin. And though she knows her family would not have approved, she still loves her tattoo and G’raha has always found her tattoo to be beautiful and a turn on.

Yume’s Humor

Yume absolutely does have a sense of humor, although I wouldn’t necessarily call her a very humorous person herself. She tends to laugh at goofy or cute things, like when Krile was teasing Alphinaud when they were reunited or when Urianger fell into the water after his waterwalking spell failed. One reason why she fell in love with G’raha was that he always made her laugh, in a good way. He would usually go out of his way to make her laugh, as Yume tends to try to hold her laughter in.

Why does Yume try to hold in her laughter and tends to not make jokes herself, you ask? Well, call it an old habit that has been hard for her to break. Usually bursting out into fits of laughter was really impolite for her to do while her father attended to his political business or while she was training, so she learned to keep her laughter to herself. Though she is better about making jokes now, and she tends to tease those close to her.

Poetry

Yume’s style of poetry is more free verse than anything else, with rhyme, repetition, and lots of imagery and allusion. She can write haikus and other traditional forms of Far Eastern poetry, but she tends to not want to be “held prisoner” so to speak with a specific form. The closest description I’d call her poetry is that if you put it to music, her poems could very easily be songs in their own right.

Yume is very guarded when it comes to her poetry, and very few people even know that she is a poet, let alone seen her work. She has written a LOT about G’raha though, especially when he had locked himself in the Tower and writing poetry about him was one thing that helped her to cope with her grief. Yume showed G’raha all the poems that she wrote about him once they were reunited in the First, and most recently she wrote a poem for him that she actually had the courage to read at their wedding.

Yume’s Tail

Content Warning: Slight NSFW, not too graphic, but please skip if you don’t want to read!

Well, G’raha would thank you for your concern about his exposure to Yume’s tail, but he would say that it is a hazard that he gladly accepts as a possibility, yet that has never swayed him away from his lovemaking with Yume.

So in actuality, Yume’s tail is possibly one of the least hazardous tails an Au Ra could have, as she only has a few spikes near the base of the tail, and the rest of it is very smooth. See picture below:

Really, the only time that Yume’s spikes on her tail are a concern is if G’raha is behind her, and so Yume either holds it up and away from him, or G’raha will hold her tail himself, while gently tugging on it, as this is super pleasurable for her. And yes, they also tend to intertwine their tails, or they wrap their tails around another body part, like an arm or leg. Their tails intertwined also happens very often both in and outside of the bedroom, and it’s just one way that they show affection to one another.

Thank you so much for the asks as always @mimble-sparklepudding!! 💖💖💖

I’m so glad that you’ve been patient with me in answering your asks, as I tend to get busy with taking care of my son and I can’t always get to them right away. I also do my own research and I tend to double and triple check the cultural and historical context of everything before I publish my answers, so that also makes me take longer in answering.

#asks and replies #mimble asks #yume aino #oc: paint it black #yume x g'raha #ship: evermore

18 notes · View notes

oldofmd12verse · 2 years

Text

OFMD Decembverse 2022 Information

Hello everyone, and welcome to OFMD Decembverse! It’s time to try our hand at some poetry. Please read the entire thread before participating! Our hashtag: #ofmd12verse (alternate: #ofmddecembverse).

First, link to the ao3 collection for this event: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ofmd12verse22/profile

Official Twitter for this event:

Information:

OFMD Decembverse is a month-long prompt-based challenge to write some poetry for your fandom. Poetry is seen as something intimidating and “not for people like us” to most people, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Poetry is for everyone.

Each day of December will have two prompts associated with it: A type of poetry (with instructions provided for how to write it) and a lesser-known quote from the show Our Flag Means Death that you can use as inspiration.

You do not have to follow either prompt if you do not want to. You can choose to focus only on the poetry type or the quote, or say screw it and write the poetry you want, how you want. If it’s a poem related to OFMD (or that uses these prompts), it qualifies for this challenge.

This challenge is taking place on Ao3, Twitter, and Tumblr.

Note: Some of these poetry styles (such as Shi) were developed to only work well in certain languages. I will be posting ways to adapt these to English for those who are interested. I don’t think poetry should have to be Euro-centric just because this is a predominantly English-speaking fandom.

Prompt List:

Day 1: Slam: “Wait until you hear about my life as an accountant.” Day 2: Ballad: “I loves me a thief.” Day 3: Sonnet (Iambic Pentameter): “The love of a pet makes a man weak.” Day 4: Pastoral: “We’re gonna have fun today, and that’s an order.” Day 5: Terza Rima: “If I can help this crew grow as people, then I’ve succeeded in being a pirate captain.” Day 6: Ottava Rima: “You should have stayed still, that’s kinda on you.” Day 7: Enclosed rhyme: “The rest was just gravity.” Day 8: Soliloquy: “So this whole time you were a woman?” Day 9: Blank Verse: “I’ve got more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at!” Day 10: Free Verse: “I never said that they floated.” Day 11: Ode: “You all look the same, you know.” Day 12: Lyric: “Is this all there is?” Day 13: Ballade (not the same as Ballad): “A widow’s life isn’t nearly as bad as it’s made out to be.” Day 14: Villanelle: “Mutiny is a-brewin’.” Day 15: Narrative Poetry: “I can’t believe you made me do this.” Day 16: Dissonance: “Since we’re on the subject of bad vibes…” Day 17: Assonance: “We love an audience.” Day 18: Satirical: “I’m a dirty, filthy murderer!” Day 19: Haiku (or Tanka): “And you cried all the time, and liked to pick flowers.” Day 20: Elegy: “Murder is a natural cause.” Day 21: Imagery: “We could’ve made magic.” Day 22: Alliteration: “Knives are knives, meat’s meat.” Day 23: Free Verse: “I heard the most insane rumor.” Day 24: Couplet: “You don’t get food if you’ve been invaded.” Day 25: Shi Poetry (see guide for English interpretation of rules): “I’m the Black Cat of Death.” Day 26: Fable: “Read it and weep, my friend! Adventure awaits!” Day 27: Ghazal: “God’s not a fan.” Day 28: Limerick: “The vengeancer and the vengeancee.” Day 29: Tercet: “You’ll sign a confession to that extent, hmm?” Day 30: Monorhyme: “Avast ye!” Day 31: Epic: “My Wondrous Journey: A Life at Sea.”

Rules: 1. Please tag properly and liberally for common/reasonable triggers. Mark explicit verse as explicit for those of us who browse social media at work.

2. No racism/homophobia/transphobia that isn’t both tagged AND used in the storytelling process (such as to express discomfort with these concepts or to show characters being victims of these concepts).

3. If your poetry is explicit, tag that shit please!

4. Don’t worry about getting it perfectly right, poetry is about expressing yourself and feeling free as fuck while doing it.

Frequently Asked Questions:

What if I've never written poetry before/am not very good? Poetry is one of the oldest art forms in the world. People used poetry to pass down wisdom, stories, and share their culture before they could write. It is truly for everyone, including you. It has a stereotype for being gatekept and that only certain people can appreciate it, but I promise that that is a lie. If you can type words, you can do this.

Do I have to participate in every day/prompt? No, and it's likely that it will be really difficult to keep up with them all. Do what speaks to you and makes you happy.

What if I don't want to make the kind of poetry in that day's prompt? Then screw it, pick another kind that speaks to you. This challenge is supposed to help you learn to express yourself in different ways, but if you can't express yourself properly through a haiku or a sonnet, do something else that speaks to you. All poetry is good poetry.

Do I have to follow the quote prompt for each day? No. Some people don't know where to begin, so I've provided quotes from the show that generally aren't used/referenced much in fandom. But if you have a better idea you are obligated to use that one instead, because again, expressing yourself through verse is the most important part.

Do my poems have to rhyme? No, not all poetry rhymes, and some kinds explicitly don't.

Can my poetry be explicit/sexy? Hell yeah. Just tag that shit, please.

Can I participate by writing for other fandoms? Yes! While this challenge was created with OFMD in mind, all fandoms could use a nice injection of verse in them. All I ask is that you use at least one of the prompts for that day (be it the poetry type or quote) so it relates to this challenge in some way. I know that many people also write for WWDITS and those fandoms are more than welcome here. I purposely chose quotes that aren't a direct reference to characters in the show so that you could branch out.

Do I have to write a poem about the exact context of the quote? No, absolutely not. It can be about anything. The quote is just there to get your juices flowing.

Where can I post my work? Ao3: This collection is the place to post it. Twitter: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will retweet works under those tags. Tumblr: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will reblog works under those tags.

#ofmd fanfic #poetry #december #prompt challenge #ofmd12verse #ofmddecembverse

10 notes · View notes

fairy-tales-of-yesterday · 1 year

Text

First ten lines

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Tagged to play by @mrsmungus

Tagging @loubbies @kayedium-writes @mikaharuka @the-least-tactful-writer idk anyone else to tag so...

This isn't ten because i was getting tired of copying and pasting but here you go.

Is It A Dream

Mulder wondered where he went wrong. He was alone like he had been in the start, after Samantha he had always been alone. Then the FBI happened, and then Scully happened, and he hadn’t been alone, he hadn’t been fully alone in so long. Scully had almost left though, and he couldn’t blame her, he understood that he wasn’t a good person to be with. He had never been. It was a miracle that she had stuck with him for as long as she had, and she was still here beside him.

Till The End

Apollo was a simple god. Really, he was, at least compared to his father and his uncles, and Hermes there were so many things Hermes had in his realm. Sure, he liked flashy things, hot girls, hot guys, the sun, poetry, and all that jazz. Ok on second thought he wasn’t that simple, however considering he wasn’t the love god he felt like he knew love well. This is how Apollo knew that he was completely and utterly in love with… and he knew he had to write him the most beautiful haiku.

Even Through The Storm

Ace missed Nancy it had been so long since he had seen her, talked to her. It was fine though completely fine. He missed having someone who got him, not that Bess didn’t get him, it just wasn’t the same. The type of relationship Nancy and he had wasn’t the same, their connection ran deeper. He had thought that things would go back to what they were once the curse was broken but Nancy was still pulling away from them all. Hopefully, the revival of their game nights would help somewhat. He was heading to one right now, sort of, George and Bess were still on shift at the Claw but a storm was coming in so they didn’t expect there to be a lot of customers.

Moral of The Story

Gibbs thought about when Ziva "died" when he was first introduced to Tali, she was cute, he had to admit, and he wasn't even mad about his rules having been broken. He was sad though for DiNozzo, for how he was left to raise his daughter without Ziva. He had hoped that they would have been able to work it out but apparently, they hadn't. That wasn't his first thought.

Midnight Cookies

Honestly, they all should have expected this. Seven ADHD demigods were trapped together on a ship for hours on end. However, none of them could ever dream up the situation, that they had found themselves in. It all started with blue cookies, his moms’ blue cookies, he had a sudden craving for them in the middle of the night and he ventured down to where he knew the plates that would make whatever he wanted were. Sneaking quietly through the halls, he was so focused on being quiet that he wasn’t paying attention, and he ran right into Leo. Like dead on with Leo ending up on the floor.

Healing Isn’t Easy

It was over. Finally, almost over and she didn’t know how to feel. Lucy knew that she should feel relieved that it was finally over and that Rosalind was finally dead, but she didn’t feel like it was over. It was too good to be true. To easy, she had just been there one moment and then dead the next. Shot by someone hidden in the trees. She was dead, and Lucy was still here and she didn’t know how to feel about that.

Insomniac Ghosts

It was Christmas Eve, and Mulder had been planning on spending it staked out in his car, because his apartment had to be fumigated again. He hated Christmas, because of how commercialized it was, hence why he locked himself in his house, or worked from the 24th to the 25th. This year he couldn’t though, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t go home, and he still didn’t have the X-Files, and there was no way that he was going to stay here.

I Can Change You Can Change Everyone Can Change

He couldn’t do this he couldn’t leave her behind it just wasn’t something he could do he couldn’t walk away he couldn’t. The last time he walked away and left her behind on a tarmac, she ended up getting tortured in a terrorist camp. He couldn’t risk something happening to her again.

#x-files #percy jackson #nancy drew #NCIS #the rookie

4 notes · View notes

lovecolibri · 2 years

Text

Things that did NOT Spark Joy-4x10

Well. Here we are again, folks! If you want to read about me singing Kyle’s much deserved praises, that post is here, otherwise, lets dive into the retconning, confusing, jam-packed and yet still somehow boring AF mire of this episode.

Starting off strong with Liz dropping the line about the sinkhole being a “one way door” when they found her passed out immediately after finding the sinkhole and as far as we know NO ONE but especially not her, have run tests to know what’s going on with the sinkhole. PLUS, they pulled m*ria out so why are we being told (but never, not ONCE, shown) that things can’t come back out?

I wish I could like Bonnie but after so much focus on her I’m just so very tired. But also. why do they want us to sympathize so hard with a character who helped steal powers so a dictator take over and kill swaths of people to harvest those flowers and prolong his own life, and whatever TF else he was trying to do that involved murdering a lot of people? Why give us that backstory and focus instead of focusing on the MAIN CHARACTERS? And it’s so confusing what the aliens are supposed to know of earth because Bonnie knows the concept of a turducken and what a haiku is, but no idea what Morse Code is, and it feels like every thing the dark triad knows or doesn’t know is based entirely off of plot convince, and how much they want them to have snarky one-liners. She seems pretty confident that she’s not a danger to humans but how would she know unless she had been going around kissing them? They don’t have powers to mitigate, but could she be passing along her alien flu/cold mixture? Which no human would have immunity to? We didn’t need ANY of that storyline since it was just about taking away their powers and honestly they could have mixed that in with Tezca stealing people’s faces or just injected Michael with something like the alien flowers. We didn’t even need him being “sick” because nothing really came out of that either since it wasn’t used to have Alex taking care of him, or him fighting through being ill to go after Alex!

Honestly, it makes no sense to trust Bonnie-she could be playing all of them with her doe-eyed innocent act! She took away Michael’s powers without consent and now wants to stay with Michael in another dimension she claims she doesn’t know anything about? She’s constantly been feeding them tidbits of information about the mission of the dark triad but every time they need more information she doesn’t seem to have any idea what’s going on. Season 1 pod squad (and present day Alex at least though Kyle should know better too) would never have put any kind of trust in someone like that, and would have at least discussed that she was trying to lead them into a trap or knows more than she’s telling.

On that note, Tezca having “amnesia” about everything is mighty convenient and season 1 pod squad wouldn’t just be taking this at face value either. And Michael asking vague questions instead of specifically asking why she won’t tell them about what she knows about Alex and the quicksand/sinkhole thing? What was that about?! Whyyyy are the writers allergic to letting Michael go all out and demand answers about Alex?! And supposedly Tezca was the “go-between” for Nora, Louise, and Theo but that whole relationship with Jones and how they were working for him but not really is already so convoluted that throwing another person into their triad mix just makes it all make even less sense. And why do we have time for her sob story about all the people she killed working for the dictator (who could control her but apparently couldn’t just...control Nora, Louise, and Theo to get what he wanted? Okay.), but don’t have time to focus on our main characters and their journeys or them working together? This Tezca plot would have fit better last season, but also the shape-shifting which was the only cool thing has been entirely dropped, and was never really used THAT well and didn’t take over any of the mains to gain “secret” info. so again, what was even the point?! The only thing they really did was get a body from Deep Sky and then destroy it, which since they can memory-wipe people, didn’t need Eduardo’s face to accomplish in the first place!

Tezca says she would have done Ophiuchus's will and that Clyde is a true believer, but she was following Jones and his plan soooo, what IS Ophiuchus?! Jones and his plan? A religion/god/fate? A cult? They keep dropping the name but every time has such weird and different contexts it’s impossible to pinpoint what it even is.

The Jones wig is sooooo bad!! I was so excited about maybe getting Jones back but every bit they have used him this season has been awful, confusing, or both.

The idea that there is just a WHOLE ASS OTHER DEMINSION that ANYONE COULD FALL INTO, and a giant metallic structure, just...sitting out in the open that were NOT found by the regular military OR any of the Caulfield/Project Shepherd/alien research offshoots, OR Deep Sky, OR any of the alien-obsessed people like the Green twins (remember when “lots of twins in Roswell” was a teased plotline?) and turned into a tourist trap or an urban legend, OR by Michael who has spent his whole life looking for stuff like this is beyond ridiculous. Especially given that characters are now just constantly having loud, public discussions of alien stuff. Remember when they were worried about getting caught and experimented on? I miss that energy.

Did Kyle and Eduardo even find Allie?! That was the whole point of them staying in Mexico for the past 3 episodes and we just don’t see or talk about any of that? Where did they find that box, and since it was SO important why didn't we see it?! Besides the ridiculousness of separating the alien pieces and putting some of them in another demission, some in a hideout in Mexico that seems like maybe didn’t exist until after the OG triad were taken, and just...leaving the rest of the pieces in the ground to be scavenged by literally anyone, HOW did Kyle get that sealed box full of alien stuff on a plane and through customs? Or did he make a 25 hour drive instead and hope he didn’t trigger any sensors at the border? Also, as I talked about here, there are some weird discrepancies not just about the console and Michael and Alex’s necklaces being made from pieces of it, but also backstories for the Valenti family and how this new “secret alien stash in Mexico” plotline doesn’t really fit with anything. Nothing that happened there couldn’t have just happened in Roswell. Hell, they could have found that stuff hiding in the Valenti cabin or in a secret lock-box Jim left for Kyle! So much of that storyline was wasted time and set up to get items that they easily could have found quicker, easier, and with less set up in town, leaving time to SHOW us the more important stuff.

Speaking of showing us important stuff, we should have seen Michael and Kyle trying lots of different things, putting stuff in the hole and trying to pull it back, and Michael getting more and more frustrated and despondent as things didn’t work! Seeing Michael being frustrated, out of ideas, and ready to give up, feels like it comes out of nowhere because we haven’t even seen him try a single thing to get to Alex yet! We could have spent less time on Tezca, Bonnie and Dallas, and soooo much less time on m*ria and used that time to see Kyle and Michael working on research, and trying to get to Alex.

WHY IS EVERYONE REFERRING TO ALEX AS “MANES” AND HOW DO WE MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!

No Heath this episode helping Michael and Kyle, so did he not stick around to look for his lost lover buddie Dallas? Just to help Liz and then fuck off forever? So what was the point of bringing him back if he’s not even going to be allowed to help find his life-long friend?! Instead we could have had Kyle having to walk Isobel through what to do over the phone, which easily could have been done without Trevino present, would have tied in to their working together on medical stuff and her being his extra set of hands, and would have again given focus to our mains instead of side characters, and would have given Isobel something to do during the episode instead of sit around 90% of the time.

I just cannot be bothered to go over all the Liz stuff at this point but I will say that Evil!Liz would have been fun way earlier in the season, and would have been more interesting if it was something more than just Liz doing exactly what she has been doing this whole time, but with the added layer of being cruel to her sister. It’s just so sloppy and I have ALWAYS liked Liz as a character but this season has been rough trying to be a fan of Liz, or Max, or Echo because the writing...doesn’t seem to particularly like Liz, or Echo, and refuses to lean into the things people liked about Max at the beginning-namely him being soft and heart-eyes over Liz and wanting to support her, but they also make it hard for him to do that when they also insist on her doing unethical shit all the time or expressly doing things the pod squad have asked her not to, or helping herself to their pod goo like it belongs to her or is hers to share with whoever she wants. Do the writers even know or care how unlikable they are making both their leads out to be? Don’t answer that. We been knew.

Speaking of Liz, I was interested in season 1 when she was worried she was losing her mind and that she knew mental illness ran in the family and that’s what was triggering the substance abuse in her mom and Rosa, but they always undercut that with having Liz smoking with m*ria, and always having a drink in her hand, and then when Rosa came back with NO ONE taking her mental health seriously or discussing how it was the driving force behind her addiction. But the way they are handling it with Liz now just feels so sloppy and disingenuous. She doesn’t need an addiction to be the driving force behind her “bad deeds” because Evil!Liz was the one that “won” in the mindscape and she was fully dedicated to focusing on her research AND we’ve been told this whole time that, unlike Shivani who is just a tech investor, Liz is brilliant and can constantly pull off feats of scientific invention on her own. We don’t need this subplot, this late in the game, for additional “drama”, when we would be getting the same story without it! Also, why does huffing it now not kick her into the mindscape again? Uuuuugh, it’s just so, so sloppy and confusing, and involves a lot of wasted time, especially since we went through all this just to have her make one attempt and then immediately just give up and move on from Shivani. She should have done that like, 7 episodes ago.

m*ria is as fucking useless as always and Rosa deserves so much better than to be sidelined into being m*ria’s spirit guide/mentor whatever. The fact that they even put it into the text that m*ria’s power is basically just Rosa’s and that didn’t stop them from wedging m*ria in there makes me want to scream. GOD FORBID she miss three episodes and they stop ruining other people’s stories just to try and invent things for her to do. GOD FORBID they just let Rosa do what she trained to do last season instead of wasting precious screentime walking m*ria through how to do literally the same thing. Also, what was the fucking point of wasting all that time at the start of the season with m*ria bitching about losing something that was literally killing her and has never once actually been useful to anyone, only to just...pretend it never happened and she’s not only fine, she has SUPER new powers now! 🙄🙄🙄🙄 give me a fucking break.

Link to previous episode posts: 4x01, 4x02, 4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06, 4x07, 4x08, 4x09

#roswell nm #roswell spoilers #things that did not spark joy #4x10 #anti maria deluca #why is nothing allowed to make sense?#i am so tired #the best thing about this episode is that we are one closer to the writers never being able to touch these characters again #i probably forgot some stuff but i just cannot be bothered anymore.

8 notes · View notes