#pat pat solune

[iced-souls]

He’s learning to social

Og image below vvv

[kaioshin-kai]

pat pat pat Solune

Solune: "Mortal.. Wh-What are you doing?!"

Yes he is actually toxic but.. he can actually turn real flustered when caught off guard.

[brightbell]

New Year, Same Zane

“Again!” Halestis bellowed, holding the target dummy in place. Zane charged it and struck at with the blunted sword. This time, the dummy rocked backwards, but Hale pushed it forward and it smacked her right in the face. She landed on her ass in the dust, hard, her sword flying from her hand. Defeated, she flopped on to her back.

“What the actual fuck, Hale?! I’m exhausted. I don’t see you, or Kalen, or Nast training this hard. Why are you putting me through all this extra work?”

Hale moved to her and sat down with her in the dust, brushing her vermillion hair back out of her flushed face. 

“Because, my dear, the instructors are going to work you twice as hard. Do you know how many women signed up for the academy this time around? Ten. You are one of ten women, and they are going to work you harder than us men to make you prove yourselves. 

Zane groaned and dropped her arm over her eyes, blocking out the glaring sun of Kalimdor. 

“And why did we have to come all the way to Orgrimmar to train? We could have stayed in Quel’thalas and trained just as well there.” She opened her sky blue eyes and peered up at him. 

“Because the orcs here are probably even better than us at fighting. If we learn from the best, we won’t struggle as much during training.” He waved an arm out over the training grounds where Kalenaestus and Nastaleron Silverblade, and Tobinaer Dawnweaver were taking turns dueling each other. 

“Drink some water, take a quick break, and then we’ll get back at it,” Hale said, patting her leg. 

~*~

Zane stared at herself in the mirror. Her once purple hair was growing in red again, leaving only the tips a vibrant shade of violet. She saw no change in her eyes, however, they were still just as pale lilac today as they were the day before.

Oh.

The day before.

She reached up and touched her fingertips to her lips, were his lips had been. It was a brand new year, and she had rang it in with a rather tall, rather handsome, and sometimes rather infuriating man. She hadn’t been expecting the kiss, it had completely caught her off guard, and she hadn’t had time to think about protesting once his lips met hers. All rational thought had emptied itself from her mind, and she kissed him back. 

What she had thought about, however, was about getting her hands on him; in his hair, gliding her fingers over his tattoos, maybe running her tongue along his lower lip. 

She gripped the wash basin tightly and sighed.

“Fucking hell, Zane, get a fucking grip,” she hissed at her reflection. She splashed cold water on her face, and then moved to lace up her running shoes. In spite of the still near constant protests of her ribs, she pushed herself hard every day when she ran. And every day, she ended up winded and with a sore side. 

The doctor that had healed her injuries had told her take it easy for “a couple months”. She had nodded and said ‘sure,’ with no real intentions on doing so. But the injuries had been worse than she had originally realized. In fact, she had been unconscious for the better part of two weeks, put into a medically induced coma by the doctor to allow her internal injuries to heal. 

While unconscious, she had dreamed. So many dreams, of so many people that were gone. Hale, Nast, her sister, her father... And then she had dreamed of Solun and panicked, thinking that he, too, was dead.  

The first thing she had done when she returned to Stormwind was look for him, but she couldn’t find him. In fact, the building where the clinic had been was empty now. So she sent him a letter, hoping he was alive. And he was, he had answered, and when she finally saw him in the city, the relief was palpable. She hadn’t told him just how bad her injuries had been when she took the fall in Maldraxxus, she had said that she had fallen from a flying beast, which was true, but she had fallen such a great distance, that they had thought her dead at first. 

“As if a fall could keep me down,” she grumble as she drug her dresser up the stairs to her bedroom, one step at a time. The bed was still in the living room, but she would worry about that some other time. Would she worry about Artaenis some other time, too? 

[erikrunner]

Jas i moite trčanja kon celta 2008-2019

Od 14 polumaratoni, imam trčano na pola

Najdobro vreme sum istrčal 2010-ta godina 1.42.24

Najslabo vreme 2016-tata, 2.33.14 

Tri pati ne go trčav poradi Solun maraton

Zanimlivosti, po godini na održuvanje

2006 - Ne ni znaev deka postojat trki iako veke 2 godini rekreativno trčav na kej. Prvata trka na koja trčav beše Šri Činmoy polumaraton na 4 Juni

2007 - Ne go trčav, nitu znaev koga se održuva. Se spremavme togaš za Prviot Skopski polumaraton, koje beše edna teška katastrofa od organizacija

2008 - Moeto edinstveno trčanje na 5… ili 7 km. Togaš ne se osmeluvav da trčam 2 polumaratona za 7dena. Prethodnata nedela trčavme vo Novi Sad… onoj polumaraton-zemjotres

2009 - 2.09.05 Eden mesec pred mojot prv maraton. Vo programa mi bea TKC i Beogradskiot polumaraton so tempo za maratonot vo Trst

2010 - 1.42.24 Ova e moj PB na polumaraton na 490 metri pokratka pateka. Inaku ke imav i oficijalen PB, da beše točna patekata

2011 - 2.17.35 Go trčav so Gigo Ivanovski, togas najstariot maratonec vo MK. Posle 3-4 godini Gigo mi vrakaše društvo… beše pobrz od mene

2012 - Ne go trčav, beše 6 dena posle Solun maraton, pa ušte ne možev da odam normalno, a ne da trčam polumaraton

2013 - 2.20.53 Posle vakvi vreminja na polumaraton rešiv da se prefrlam samo na maratoni. Ako se brukam, da se brukam celosno, a ne polovično

2014 - Ne go trčav, otidov na Solun maraton

2015 - Pak otidov na Solun maraton… tret pat

2016 - 2.33.14 Ubedlivo najspor TKC polumaraton u životu. Si go plakav danokot od mnogu maratoni istrčani poslednite 3 godini

2017 - Ušte edna godina plakanje rati od danokot

2018 - 2.12.27 Malo vrakanje vo život, posle 2 godini vo koi istrčav samo 5 polumaratoni. I odma go pobediv Miljalče od Veles. Bane - ne možev

2019 - 2.20.25 Možam samo da se pofalam deka gi pobediv Jane Vlahovski i Spase Stojanovski

[otadam]

Acıyor biliyorum. Dokunamıyorum ama hisset sen. Tam orası. Söyleme kimseye. Açılmasın dudakların. İzin ver ben konuşayım bu sefer ölüm sessizliğini çalıp. Rahatsız olacağın bir sürü kelam etmek üzereyim, avuç içlerin de ağzıma kapanmak üzere kaşınıyor biliyorum ama takatim kalmadı söylemeliyim, aksi halde şuracıkta öleceğim. Belki yollara vursaydım izimi, ketlere vursaydım dilimi, zincirlere vursaydım ellerimi olurdu. Sen böyle sessizlik içinde oturmasaydın hele kesin olurdu ama olmadı. Olmadı değil mi? Biraz daha. Vakit tanı bana demek istediklerim bunlardan ibaret sanma, çok çok daha fazlası var nice gömülü sandıklarda. Kim bilir kaç milenyumdur biriktiriyorum bunları varlığına, bekliyordum ya ulaşmanı, geldin konuşamıyorum. Konuşmalı anlatmalıyım sana. Sağın ve solun bende ters olduğunu, önüm ve arkamın karıştığını, ileri ve geri de yön kayıpları olduğunu da bildirmeliyim. Dur dur. Olmadı bu da. Hala yanlış sandıkları seçiyorum inatla. Diyeceğim şu ki ellerin. Yumuşaklığı. İzlenilesi güzelliği. Büyüleyici duruşu. Renk tonu bile. Dokunmaya varamadan henüz o göz alıcı renk tonu... Seviyorum. Her sandığın en altında yazan da, en üstüne kazınan da bu. İçleri ne kadar dolu olsa da, ufak bir hareketle pat diye boşaltılacak olsa da hepsine kalıcı olan tek kelime bu. Uslanmadan, ölür ve öldürürcesine, savaşlar yaratıp daha ilk saniyesinde pes etme cürretinde bulunacak şekilde, mantıksızlık diz boyu ama seviyorum. Mantığıma, sorumluluklarıma, hastalıklarıma, olamayan sağlık raporlarıma, darılan hayallerime, yaşamsal ihtiyaçlarıma karışıyor varlığın. Hatta antidepresanlar bile sen kokuyor derin derin. Bulanıyorsun dört bir yanıma, her köşeme, yedi kat derinliklerime. Ben seni gördüğümde doğuma kadar soyunup sayı saymayı bile unutmuştum halbuki. Sebepsiz ve sonuçsuzum görüyorsun. Kelime sandıklarından besleniyorum nedensizce. An'ı yaşama sorunum, anı izleme isteğimle çelişince arafta sürükleniyorum. Siyah bir çarşaftan ibarettir ki araf bile seni hatırlatıyor bana. Seni arıyorum zifirilikte. Duyularım kayıp. Vaktim kayıp. Ben kayıbım. Sen duruyorsun en keskin yerinde. Göğsün en derininde.