#random writings

[corviids]

resemblance

[kay-ous]

Guess who made a fucking wheel for when they’re bored and wanna write stuff? Me.

Better fucking watch out @unfunnyaceartist/j

And yes, I got so bored and write so much stuff that I decided to make an alt blog just to write shit, better run

[i-did-not-mean-to]

A for effort for dear Námo

This is for all the people who made me really like Námo, like @maglor-my-beloved, @z-h-i-e, and of course, my Valar-liking friend @the-red-butterfly.

Please enjoy 715 words of Námo having a less-than-ideal day with his wife.

(Also...Fëanor, because always Fëanor)

“I do not look that grim,” Fëanáro bellowed, looking – as far as Námo was concerned – much dourer than his beloved wife had ever depicted him in any of her tapestries.

“Is it too much to ask that she not slander me more than strictly necessary? Already, you lot seem to have decided to turn me into the villain of your little tale of woe; do you absolutely have to make me look like one in every hanging as well?” The wavering soul sniffed in vexation. “My children see this as well, and my poor mother has to weave these atrocities! Who designs those abhorrent pictures?”

Námo steadied himself, trying hard to remember the breathing exercises his beloved siblings had shown him to deal with the stress of his workplace; these new-fangled ideas brought to their realm by the returning exiles and odd guests alike did have their undeniable advantages, he had to admit.

“I shall have words with my wife,” he declared placatingly, but a tight knot of apprehension started swirling deep within his core. As was custom, he did not meddle in Vairë’s work and she kept mostly out of his.

It would take incredible tact and quite a bit of sweet-talking to get her to understand that one of his charges – and she’d know which one right away – had complained about her handiwork. There was a distinct risk that she’d take the broom she used to tidy up the bits of discarded and cut-off thread in her halls and sweep Finwë’s oldest and Míriel’s only son straight into the void.

Tired of Fëanáro’s antics, Námo removed himself with as much grace as he could muster and went straight to his beloved wife’s halls where she sat, frowning and weighing a few spools of thread pensively, in front of a half-finished tapestry of a particularly bloody battle.

“Husband,” she greeted without turning around. “What say you? This one or this one for the blood?” She held aloft two reels that looked to be the exact same shade of crimson to Námo.

“That one,” he replied and tapped the one closest to him. “I’ve come to transmit the grievance of one of my charges.”

As she whirled around, he steeled himself against the inquisitive touch of her mind, brushing against his own with tender confidence. “Oh?” Vairë cocked her head.

“Someone expressed moderate displeasure about the way they’re shown.” He cleared his throat sheepishly as her brows drew together in dismay. “That someone,” he went on bravely, “thinks that their beauty might not be rendered satisfactorily by your impeccable art.”

“Oh, she said that he’d complain,” Vairë grunted and threw the bobbins to the stone floor to clasp her hands around her knees in an expression of benevolent patience. “And you’ve come to impart that questionable insight right away?”

“Indeed,” Námo sighed; he saw his wife’s eyes darken and her glance flit over the rows of neatly arrayed spools that turned one wall of her halls into a mesmerising mosaic of colours. 

“Leave it to me, husband,” she then said in a tone so sweet and soothing that he was now convinced beyond a doubt that she was indeed plotting to teach the unruliest of the High Kings of the Noldor a lesson.

“I submit to your wisdom and skill,” he replied hastily lest he be entangled in marital doom amongst other shenanigans. “Far be it from me to lecture you on your own unique gift.”

With those conciliatory words, Námo returned to his own tasks, happy to have handled things so well.

The very next day, Fëanáro – flashing red and orange with anger – came to him and led him to the newest addition to the hanging decorating every wall, courtesy of his esteemed spouse.

“Oh,” Námo gasped and fell silent. Vairë had indeed made Míriel’s son blindingly handsome, but – on the other hand – he was now tiny, dwarfed and overshadowed by his children and siblings. “Well, you’ve never said anything about your height.”

Smug as a cat that had gotten to the cream, he drifted away and left his very animate ball and chain standing in front of the offending tapestry, fuming and raging. 

At the very least, Námo thought, Fëanáro was much restored and almost his old self again…for better or for worse.

That's it...that's the burst of energy for today lol

Lots of love!

[bixenwrites]

i lost

i almost always never know how to admit defeat.

but that night, with just one look into your eyes, i knew.

i was bewitchingly, terribly, crazily, tragically, embarrassingly,

defeated.

- jo bixen

[thebrellowaesthete]

I'd written a free verse, all just randomly for @melaniemartinezmusic 's "training wheels", A song which I love a lot, a few days ago. This is how it goes:

Cotton candies, apple pies

Everyday a new sweet lie

The tears of happiness fall from my eyes

When I see you walking by

Or ride the bike; while you look at the sky

You lose track and, fall from the bike!

You touch my palms with so much care,

Your hands wiggling while you feel my hair

You choose to be my new sweet nightmare!

And so, looking at you, I feel so good;

Honestly I really need you

Would've put you on my bike;

But no training wheels; left for you.

(Main verse starts after)

[partbadpartwolf]

I haven't written in a while but I thought of a cute/silly story post season 2 of good Omens and just wanted to write it. Don't know how long it will be or if I'll continue it. If people end up liking it why not. Can't promise it will be written particularly well but enjoy:

It was a weird morning. Then again, ever since that night where the ball/meeting they attended was attacked by demons, Nina figured weird was now relative. As she finished getting ready for the morning rush she saw Maggie walking over.

She waved while shoving the last of the freshly made pastries into the glass display. Opening up the door Maggie stepped in and took off her coat. Hair soaked to her face, she tried her best to dry herself in the doorway. Another rainy day. All the days has been rainy since last week when they last talked to Crowley. He looked like his usual gruff self sitting in his car as Nina had waved to him trying to give him a reassuring look.

He must have talked to Mr. Fell, she thought while a sense of unease crept over her. Speaking of: Nina hadn't seen him at all in the past week. He usually kept his bookshop closed and opened at the most random of times, but this seemed different.

Nina gazed past Maggie and over at the Bentley parked in front of the shop. It had been parked for quite a while with no sign of Mr. Crowley. Maggie saw where she was looking and turned around to gaze out the window. "I haven't seen either of them in a while. Do you think they are having some quality alone time?" Maggie asked with a tinge of mischief on the words "alone time."

Thinking about the face Crowley made that day she saw him, Nina wasn't so sure. She gave Maggie a shrug and grabbed her own coat off the coat rack. "Stay here I'll be right back."

Pulling her hood over her head Nina walked briskly to the bentley. Her hand attempting and failing at keeping the whipping rain out of her face. Thunder roared in the distance as she made her way across the street towards where the bentley always sat. Wiping the rain off the windows she peered into the car. It seemed perfectly clean and empty. In pristine condition. Almost too pristine. She tried the door on the driver's side and found that it was unlocked. When the door opened a wave of alcohol smell filled her nostrils, overwhelming her momentarily. She stuck her head out of the car and coughed trying to shake off the burning sensation. Her eyes watered and for a moment she was unsure she'd be able to investigate further.

Then in the corner of her eye just barely visible was something on the floor of the passenger side of the vehicle. Looking at her with yellow eyes was the biggest snake Nina had ever seen. The scales as dark as ink pools, but strangely beautiful. She blinked and could see the night sky full of stars in the scales. As quickly as they appeared the scales returned to normal inky blackness. After starring at her for a moment the snake seemed to have no interest, closing it's eyes and not moving. Nina, shocked to find such a creature inside of a car in the middle of SoHo forgot for a second that she should be terrified. He could be venomous, it could suddenly bite her if she wasn't careful. However her instincts in that moment shut off and she moved closer to where it was. She inched into the driver's seat and shut the door. Looking down on the floor to see if the snake reacted at all to the door being shut. Thunder boomed again and flashes of lightning trailed into the sky. It jumped her a bit and the snake poked one eye open to look at her. Wearily it moved it's head slightly toward the passenger seat. Slithering part of its upper body onto the seat it seemed to regard her with mild curiosity and slight annoyance. To Nina the gaze was very familiar. She couldn't really explain why she did what she did next and if you asked depending on the day, she'd give you about 10 different answers. At this particular moment in time everything seemed to happen in the next .05 seconds. Maggie watching the whole time was about to come out and see what Nina was actually doing when suddenly she was back in the coffee shop with a black bundle of something in her arms. It wasn't until she saw what looked like a head and blinking yellow eyes that she jumped back in surprise. " Don't worry it's not dangerous, I don't think." Nina said out of breath. She locked the shop door quickly and went out back to the kitchen with a black mass of something still in her arms. When she came back out she had it in a white towel and Maggie could now see more clearly it was a snake. The biggest she had ever seen in person. Maggie had always loved snakes. Any animal really. The sheer size of it was still enough to make her approach cautiously.

"Was THAT in the car?" she asked finally snapping out of her awe of it's size. The scales on the other hand were beautiful. She found herself staring at them, marveling at how even though they were black they had some of the most intricate detail she'd ever seen reflected in them. Almost as if, if she stared long enough she could see galaxies born and then dust. Blinking again the scales returned to their normal black. If they had ever been normal at all. It gave her a headache.

Nina sat down on one of the tables and rested the snake down on it. It looked like it changed sizes to fit onto the table from when it was first brought in. Nina wiped the water off it's head and the snake stuck out it's tongue, eyes still closed. "Do you suppose he's their pet?" Maggie asked, not knowing any other explanation. "I have no idea." "Why did you bring it in here? And why does it smell like alcohol?" " I don't know… it just looked…. sad." "How does a snake look sad?" Maggie asked stifling a nervous laugh. As if to answer the snake opened it's eyes and looked at Maggie. She couldn't explain it but the stare felt familiar. She also felt a sense of calm that the snake wasn't dangerous. She suddenly understood why Nina brought him over. Closing it's eyes it burrowed into the towel and coiled around itself. Disappearing into the folds. "It's probably Mr. Crowley's, he'll be looking for him you should put him back." " I can't just put him back he's probably been in there all alone. I haven't seen heads or tails of either of those two for over a week. Besides I don't recall either of them mentioning they have a pet snake do you?" Maggie thought for a moment. Did either of them mention snakes in all our little adventure? She couldn't be sure. Every time she tried to think on what happened it got fuzzier and fuzzier to her mind. As if her brain were actively trying to erase details of that night. "We could drop him off at the bookshop, they probably have food and a terrarium or something set up for the poor thing." Maggie offered. "Why would they have those things in a bookshop?" "Mr. Fell has all sorts of things in there I dunno, Why else would it be in Mr. Crowley's car? Maybe it was a present or something for Mr. Fell when they finally talked about their feelings." "Why would Mr. Fell want a snake? He doesn't seem like the type."

At that the snake scurried out of the towel jumping both of them at the speed in which it moved. Just like before, it's sized changed as it slithered across the floor, getting bigger each second. So big in fact there would have been no way Nina could have carried him here, or back. They looked at each other not sure what to do, as the snake went underneath one of the booths hissing and bearing it's fangs. Nina got up first. slowly approaching the creature with her hands down at her sides. "It's alright, we won't take you back if you don't want to go." It was crazy, talking to a giant black snake. Why was she talking to a giant black snake? She couldn't really say. The snake gazed at her direction when she spoke. " You aren't quite normal are you?" Nina asked. "You think it's about the demons that attacked the shop, that's why it doesn't want to go back there? Or it could be one of those demons stayed behind." Maggie speculated. The snake hissed at being compared to those idiots. "Whatever it is…. It definitely understands what we are saying. I don't get the sense it wants to hurt us, quite the opposite actually." Nina explained not knowing exactly why she knew that. The snake made an expression very much like rolling it's eyes as if to say…"Duh." A spark of recognition hit Maggie suddenly and she got up out of her seat approaching the creature.

"Mr. Crowley?"

[disproportionatelysculpting]

. i don't know what's going on . ‎‎‎‎‎im running . and running . and running away . . from something invisible . my mind is . loudly silent . chaotically calm . messed up in the meantime . . with every new day . i try the best way . to get the best thing . to do that and . then I don't, I FAIL . . I need to go to . the point . place . home . where I can be there for me

[random-tinies]

5 and 3 for the prompt game? 👉👈With either allium duo or bedrock bros?

I know this is super old, but I wanted to share what I had written. You inspired me to write both, but I haven't finished either of them 😔 I'm determined to finish the Bedrock Bros one (which will have comfort noms) but here's the wip I had of the Allium Duo fic!

Reminder! Requests are CLOSED at this moment! We're trying to focus on Hermitcraft/3rd Life and OC stuff at the moment. 💙 Thank you!

3. “CAREFUL!”

Now, Tommy’s been out of the prison for quite some time now. He’d learned about Tubbo and Ranboo’s platonic marriage and their son Michael, but there were things he was still in the dark about. Something about Ranboo just didn’t sit right with him and he was going to make sure Tubbo wasn’t in any sort of danger. It especially concerned the tiny man that Ranboo was still all buddy-buddy with Technoblade even though Technoblade had murdered Tubbo once and destroyed L’Manburg twice! How could you just keep hanging out with a criminal like that?!

But that wasn’t all about Ranboo that rubbed Tommy the wrong way. The tall enderboy was just so spacey half the time, as if he wasn’t aware of his surroundings or his thoughts were a million miles away. Tommy could easily recognize the expression as the same one Tubbo got when he was planning something big, but it read as something very anxious on Ranboo’s face. There was something Ranboo was hiding from his family and Tommy was determined to find out what.

With his small size, it wasn’t hard for Tommy to follow Ranboo around. Despite how paranoid the enderboy was, even he found it hard to detect the tiny’s presence. In fact, the only one who ever caught Tommy sneaking around was Michael. Tommy shuddered as he remembered those cold, hard claws-for-hands wrapped around his torso as Michael examined him making curious piglin sounds. 

He was lucky to have escaped before Tubbo or Ranboo came up to check on him. If either of them caught him, the jig would be up and Tubbo would likely be mad at him and he can’t have that. He’s just trying to protect him, after all! Tubbo can be so stubborn about things concerning Ranboo sometimes. It annoyed Tommy, truth be told.

As time passed, however, Tommy found himself growing accustomed to Ranboo’s routines and habits. Every morning, the enderhybrid would wake up, tell Tubbo good morning, and go upstairs to wake Michael and take care of him. He always woke first. Tubbo never was an early riser. Anyone who ever spent any time with him knew that, and both Ranboo and Tommy spent a lot of time with the goat hybrid.

After spending time with their adoptive son, Ranboo would then leave Snowchester and travel to Technoblade’s property where he kept all of his pets and his villagers. At least, that was the only reason Tommy could come up with as to why Ranboo stuck with Techno and Philza. In order to follow him, Tommy would hide in the satchel he carried with him when he left Tubbo’s house. It was easy enough.

It got tricky once they reached the little shed. Ranboo would put his bag down and take out enderpearls and teleport away from the property. Well it was rather hard to keep track of someone who wasn’t there, now wasn’t it? But that was okay. Tommy could learn more about the mysterious hybrid by looking through his things. It wasn’t like Ranboo could stop him.

And it wasn’t like Tommy found anything interesting anyways. Ranboo kept lots and lots of blocks in his chests. There were a few books but they were all blank for some reason. There were villagers and other pets in Ranboo’s basement but all that trip did was wear Tommy out. At least he didn’t get stuck anywhere. All in all, it was a rather boring job but Tommy was determined to find something on the enderhybrid that proved his suspicions right. There had to be. He’s not just being paranoid over nothing and this certainly wasn’t a product of jealousy.

A couple days went by, days turned to weeks, and soon Tommy found himself getting bored and less motivated to spy on his old friend. The worst he saw was when Philza accidentally led a creeper into his wall and blew it up. It had been close but Tommy emerged from it unscathed and hidden still so it was still a win. He had caught a glimpse of Techno and Ranboo talking in the yard, though, which was chilling.

This all changed, however, on one day when Ranboo was acting more suspicious than usual. The old paranoia resurfaced as Tommy climbed into his bag and Ranboo ran out into the cold. He was muttering to himself and he sounded panicked. Hearing Ranboo in such a state set Tommy on edge. Is he okay? Is he alright?

The tiny risked a look outside, head peeking out of the flap and up at the distraught person. Ranboo kept wiping at his eyes and hissing as if something was burning him. He… He was crying. Why was he crying? What was wrong?

Tommy almost revealed himself to comfort the poor lad, but then the hybrid spoke aloud startlingly clearly, as if he was talking to someone. A chill goes down Tommy’s spine. “No, no, I know. I’m supposed to be learning. I just want to control this, I don't want to hurt anyone, please.”

What on Ender was he talking about? Hurt anyone? Ranboo hurt people? Tommy looked forward to see where he was going and gasped. Did Ranboo know he was walking towards a river with no armor?! “RANBOO!! Ranboo look out! The water-!”

Ranboo gasped and looked down at the satchel just as he stepped into the swirling water, horror and terror written on his Enderman features. “Tommy?! No, you can’t- AUGH!”

Tommy held on onto the bag tightly as Ranboo suddenly teleported out of the water on the opposite side of the river. “Ranboo?! Are you okay?” There’s no answer. “Ranboo…?”

The ender hybrid shook his head slowly, blinking with purple eyes. He made a curious sound Tommy recognized as an Enderman sound and looked around the area slowly. His movements made no sense to the tiny. He seemed dazed, almost groggy, as if he’d just woken up from a deep sleep.

Tommy tried to catch his attention once more. “You- You good, big man?”

Ranboo looked down at the satchel slowly and unblinking. His eyes weren’t focused but he reached into the bag and carefully lifted Tommy out. His breath catches as he realizes Ranboo’s fingers had longer, sharper claws. He was grateful for the soft pads of the now paw-like hand that gripped him gently. The enderboy lifted him up to eye level and examined him curiously, no sign of recognition in his eyes. The sight sent a chill down Tommy’s spine.

“Ranboo?”

The hybrid took his focus off of the tiny and started walking, looking around more attentively, as if searching for something. Slowly, the grip on Tommy tightened. At first it was barely noticeable, but soon it became harder to breathe. Tommy had been going along with this strange development, terribly confused at what was going on. He was worried this was some new plot to kill Tommy once and for all again and he was battling an internal war with himself on whether Ranboo, his best friend’s husband, someone Tommy was slowly beginning to trust, was going to betray him or not. The grip was not helping keep his heart calm in the slightest.

Tommy grunted as the pressure started crushing his ribs. “Careful! That hurts!” He stopped walking but didn’t look at his passenger. “Ranboo?"

.

.

.

My idea was that Tiny Tommy accidentally gets caught by an Enderwalking Ranboo, and then I couldn't figure out where to go with it lol. If you want to pick this up and finish it, by all means go ahead. ^^ This is an open invitation to anyone who makes it this far and sees an end to it, btw! I think it'd be cool to see how you guys finish it.

[sweetest-florida-blue-peach]

When the sadness, insecurities, and loneliness hits, what do we do? We write angsty fanfic blurbs. 

The bright light shining from the overhead fixture was doing nothing to help the aching behind your eyes. Salt and heat stung at your eyelids, but you could do nothing to stop the sudden torrent that was gushing out of you. Your stomach hurt from how tightly it clenched as you cried, doing your best not to wake your significant other. They were most likely still asleep in your shared bed, blissfully unaware of what was happening on the other side of the bathroom door. And you wanted to keep it that way. 

They barely said a word to you when they came home earlier, and you could tell that whatever happened today was taking a toll on them. This wasn’t something you needed to bother them with. They already had enough on their plate without you adding to it.

You couldn’t sleep. Besides being an insomniac, it was always a battle getting your mind to calm down enough to try and make yourself get a few hours of shut eye. But tonight, you just couldn’t get your brain to shut off. Especially not after seeing the news. 

The thoughts got too loud. The emotions got too overwhelming. The loneliness became too much to bear. The insecurity was eating you alive. So you were doing the only thing you knew how to do. You were facing it on your own. Because that’s what you did. You dealt with your problems quietly so that you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone. Because people have let you down your entire life. Your parents. Siblings. Friends. Even your significant other, a time or two. 

All you had was you. You were already a disappointment to yourself. It spared you some of the heartache and mostly prepared you for the expectation of being disappointed by anyone else.

You were curled into a ball, leaning on the tiled wall for support. Your arms were pulled closely to your chest as sobs wracked your entire body. 

Despite doing your best to forget it, the newspaper articles and television broadcasts wouldn't leave your troubled mind.

*Pro Hero spotted with new love interest?*

An out-of-context photo of your significant other with a civilian who was definitely not you had been snapped by a curious passerby.

They were pressed closely together, your partner's hand pressed into the small of the other person's back, guiding them to wherever their destination was. Normally, you would have brushed it off. You would've ignored the feelings of self-doubt and put more effort into cheering your love on from the sidelines. But this time....this time was different. This time there was no way you could.

Because seemingly overnight, more photos of your love and the same mystery person began popping up everywhere.

It wasn't long before the media caught wind of the situation and did what they do best. They made matters worse.

The reporters smeared pictures of your relationship everywhere. They took photos from your Snapchats, Instagram, and wherever else they could get them from, depicting you in a negative light.

*Out with the old and in with the new!*

They made remarks on your weight, appearance, quirk, job, and many other things were nitpicked to the bone, comparing you to the mystery stranger wrapped up in your lover's embrace. The endless hate comments on every platform of social media was enough to make you shut off your phone and toss it in your bedside drawer.

However, what hurt the most is that your partner seemed completely unbothered by all of it. They didn't even offer an explanation. They never said a word about it. They just went through the motions of their daily routine, leaving for another patrol, another mission. Never once telling you they loved you or kissing you goodbye.

These days, it was a rarity if they spoke to you at all.

With trembling fingers, you brushed some stray tears from your cheeks, pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead. Your legs had long since gone numb, pins and needles prickling beneath your skin. Leaning your head against the wall, you close your eyes, willing yourself to breathe.

But the breath would not come. Only more choking cries that you are quick to bury in your hands.

You're not sure how long you sit there. How long it takes for the tears to drain you of everything. All you know is that your body has gone into autopilot. Your arms move of their own accord, pushing you up, hands clinging to the bathroom sink for support. Shaky legs keep you upright, knees weak and unsteady. The cold marble of the sink vanity bites into your hands and your neck aches as you crane your neck to look up.

The reflection in the mirror blinks at you with puffy, bloodshot eyes. A red nose twitches and sniffles, sucking back a flood of snot. Your hair is a mess, clothes disheveled, and you look downright ghastly. Swiping at your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt, you sigh, chest hollow and empty.

Turning away, you shut off the bathroom light before venturing out again. You tiptoe on the carpet, willing the knob not to squeak as you shut the door behind you. The bedroom is quiet, save for the faint sounds of breathing coming from the opposite, occupied side of the bed.

Your bare feet shuffle to your side, hands grabbing the blankets as you slip under them, pulling the duvet above your shoulders. Your partner stirs in their sleep, rolling over on their side, face turned towards you, but showing no signs of being awake or aware.

The aching feeling returns as you settle further into the mattress, head plopping against your pillow. You turn to face the wall, back to them. You can't look at them right now. Not when it hurts this badly. Not when you don't have the energy or will to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything is alright. Not when your honesty clawed at your throat, desperate to ask the questions you were too afraid to voice in the daytime.

Are we going to be okay?

Am I enough for you?

Do you still think I'm beautiful?

Is there something that I've done wrong?

Why don't we talk like we used to?

Why does everything feel so different?

How are you so close to me yet still so far away?

Do you still love me?

A sudden chill creeps up your arms and tickles your feet and it makes you realize that the sheets have long grown cold, making you aware of your lack of warmth from them.

But as you peek over your shoulder at your lover, still victim of the throes of deep slumber, you can't help but wonder if your absence was even noticed.

Or if the bed has been cold for much longer than you realized.

[redshift-13]

Mountain Songs

Mountains Songs: A band famous for never or rarely being seen.  Yes, they played on the sides of mountains, but that was the least interesting thing about them.  They were often really quiet, so quiet you could pass them a hundred feet away on a trail and think you were either going crazy or hearing some faint fairy music.  Falsetto singing, whistling, single string accompaniment, three string chords, everything light as morning and fragrant as a handful of pine needles.  Mournful songs that somehow make you happy. If they were ever discovered they’d typically quit playing, discreetly hide their instruments and smile as if they were caught in some innocent mischievous prank. Their folksy airs seemed to emanate from a different way of life altogether, the world forgotten.

[365runesoftheamalgamations]

Friday Kiss Tag Game pt.1

Thank you to the lovely @perasperaadastrawriting for tagging us in this really funny little game, we kind of like this idea! ヾ(•ω•`)o

Check out her response here! c:

This kiss scene is not from any of our WIPs, but we did do this lovely little scene for Aiden and Elaine, who are by far our most adored couple, they always are the loveliest people for these scenes.

"I just love you." She blinks and then it comes, the face that could carry him into eternity. She smiles, dimples dusting her cheeks as emerald shines and Aiden feels himself completely distracted as Elaine beams. She walks over to him, and he instantly shifts all of the work away as she bends down. Trails of that rich earth slip down to tickle his skin, those precious minerals burn into him, and he lets himself drown in her presence as their lips meet. The moment is love and contentment and fulfillment; Aiden feels Elaine’s warmth seeping into him, calling him closer, begging him further but she leaves it as the soft reminder of their devotion. He breathes as she breaks the kiss, instantly grabs a few strands of hair and lets his fingers tangle as she gives him a smile to rival the Three themselves. "I just love you too."

Open Tags for the Games, for now! We have a whole lot of them to get through, so won’t be bombarding anyone with a bunch of tags at the moment. (*≧▽≦)

[corviids]

lol

[thedoorsofmyheart]

Time

“Time, mystical time. Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine.”

- Were there clues I didn’t see?

“That time always ends a second before you’re ready. That life is the minutes you want, minus one.”

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

“No measure of time with you will be long enough, but we’ll start with forever”

“I ask myself- "what would you do if you had more time?" The Lord, in his kindness, He gives me what you always wanted, He gives me more time. (She tells our stories.) - Oh, can I show you what I'm proudest of? (The orphanage) I help to raise hundreds of children, I get to see them growing up. In their eyes I see you, Alexander - I see you every time. - And when my time is up, Have I done enough? Will they tell your story? - Oh, I can't wait to see you again … It's only a matter of time. - Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?”

“Because time is cruel to all, and crueler still to artists. Because visions weakens, and voices wither, and talent fades. Because happiness is brief, and history is lasting, and in the end... everyone wants to be remembered”

“What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind?”

“ Blink and the years fall away like leaves"- "Blink and you’re twenty-eight, and everyone else is now a mile down the road, and you’re still trying to find it, and the irony is hardly lost on you that in wanting to live, to learn, to find yourself, you’ve gotten lost.”

“How do you walk to the end of the world? - I wanted to hold on to every step.”

“And this is what she’s settled on: she can go without food (she will not wither). She can go without heat (the cold will not kill her). But a life without art, without wonder, without beautiful things—she would go mad. She has gone mad. What she needs are stories. Stories are a way to preserve one’s self. To be remembered. And to forget. Stories come in so many forms: in charcoal, and in song, in paintings, poems, films. And books. Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives—or to find strength in a very long one.”

“I have loved you all my life, - there is no end to our story.”

Ah, but you my love were such a beautiful story… can you blame me for wanting to tell it? For drowning in the idea of something more? It was rather intoxicating to believe that there could be something there all this time-that a love could last so long, even in these cruel lives. You were just such a beautiful dream, I think I lost myself in fear of waking to reality.

You will find that some things last longer than life; That memory softens hard times, and someday you’ll look back on it all rather rosy. That grief goes on with you in yours even when the ones we grieve do not, and ache will fill many wretched moments drowning out the noise of this world. But of all the things that will outlast me, and you, and the next to come. Only one will ever count. Love my dear, love simply goes on. It’s why you’ll survive the tide, and smile when you cry, and find something in desperate times worth the fight. It’s why some miraculous way you and I will have eternities.

Sometimes I wonder what infinity would look like; I ponder if it would easily turn to misery, or simply boredom? But then I see you, and you look at me. And I think I could spend forever happily.

“We could spend one hundred years together, and you know it would never be enough. It’s enough that we change each other every day.”

[bixenwrites]

smart girl

and sometimes when i explain my thoughts on things and academics, i catch him staring and smiling to himself.

it is in moments like this that i feel like the smartest woman in the world.

- jo bixen

[buggachat]

something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.

But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin