#a million little gods causing rainstorms | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aalissy · 3 years

Text

Rain

Day 1 of Marichat May is hereee!! Yayaya!! I love this dynamic and I’m excited to write more for it :). Lemme know what you guys think of this lil chapter haha. I loved writing it :D

AO3

“I hate the rain,” Chat grumbled, glaring out Marinette’s bedroom window as the storm raged outside. Lightning streaked the night sky as she blinked over at him. His blonde hair was dripping with small droplets of rainwater and she huffed at the mess he was making of her floor.

Suddenly, he shook his head viciously, rubbing the water off of him with a scowl. Marinette spluttered, holding her hands up as it all fell onto her. With a shriek, she laughed, “Chat, stop! You’re getting water everywhere! Oh my god, you are such a cat.”

“Sorry, purrincess.” He gave her an ashamed smile, his hands pausing in his hair.

Rolling her eyes, she quickly pulled open one of her drawers. Grabbing a small towel, she threw it at him, feeling somewhat satisfied when it hit him squarely in the face. “Here. Use this to dry off instead so you don’t get water all over.”

Chat took it gratefully, quickly drying off his hair. Marinette sighed quietly, walking over to her window to stare out at the rainstorm. She watched the water fall with a small, delicate smile. She had no idea what Chat was talking about. Rain was gorgeous. Closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds, drifting back to another day where she stood in the rain. She mumbled softly, “I really can’t believe you don’t like rain. I absolutely adore it.”

He hummed lightly, moving his head from side to side as he considered her words. “Well, it’s not that I usually hate it, I just got caught in it tonight. Let me tell you, that was not fun. Especially when I was looking furward to a nice, easy night run.”

Marinette gave him an amused look as he pouted, crossing his arms as he continued to glare out the window. He looked like the weather had personally offended him in some way. Shaking her head fondly, she laughed. “So, instead of going home and grabbing an umbrella or going back to bed, you decided to come here?”

Chat turned to look down at her, his lower lip jutting out into an even bigger pout. “Marinette, I was cold and wet. It came out of nowhere and I needed to find somewhere warm to stay and your home is pawsitively the warmest,” he whined at her rather pathetically.

She giggled again, patting his arm lightly. A smirk then twitched at her lips as she raised an amused eyebrow at him. “Maybe so, but I don’t typically make a habit of picking up strays.”

“So, you’d have let me freeze to death in the rain instead. How cruel,” Chat moaned at her dramatically.

“Oh quit being such a baby,” Marinette swatted him playfully, ignoring his indignant shout. “It’s not that cold.”

“It most definitely is,” he huffed, “Were you the one outside getting drenched?”

She couldn’t hold back another fond laugh, rolling her eyes at him. Her partner was such a dork. He risked his life every day during akuma attacks but as soon as a little rain hits and he turns into a scaredy-cat.

Chat slid into her desk chair as he scrutinized her. “Actually, I was wrong earlier. I do hate the rain. How do you like it?”

A nostalgic grin lit up her face as she gazed outside. Once again, she was transported to another day in the rain. God, it felt so long ago now. Marinette whispered before she could fully register what she was even saying, “I fell in love in the rain.”

“Ooh,” Chat gave her a mischievous smirk and her eyes jolted over to stare at him, realizing what she had just said. “You and Luka met in the rain?”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed faintly. Her head ducked down and she shook it quickly. “No, no, no, no! This was a completely different boy and it was before I even met Luka.”

He tilted his head, giving her an eager look as he asked, “Who’s the boy then?”

“No one,” she waved her hand in the air before sighing sadly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m trying to get over him.”

“Meowch,” Chat said, pouting at her. “You wound me, purrincess. You can trust me. I am purrety good at keeping a secret, you know.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at him as he gave her a playful wink. Glancing away, she muttered, “He’s just a classmate of mine. He gave me his umbrella after we got off to a rough start, so whenever it rains I can’t help but think about him. Like I said, though, I’m trying to get over him because he only sees me as a friend.”

She blew out a harsh breath, her bangs swaying slightly as she collapsed into her chaise. Pursing her lips up at the ceiling, she tried to shove away any thoughts of Adrien. With her eyes trained on the ceiling, she missed Chat’s own eyes practically bulge out of his head. Marinette did hear him splutter and cough and she turned her head to look at him as he almost fell out of the desk chair. Sitting up, she gave him a concerned look. “Are you alright, Chat?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he spluttered before looking at her with something she couldn’t quite identify in his eyes. “T-this classmate of yours, d-do you still have his umbrella?”

A faint smile twitched at her lips as her gaze was drawn over to the treasure chest that she kept it in. Nodding her head, Marinette said, “Yeah. He never asked for it back, so I kept it. Now that you mention it, though, I should probably find a way to return it.”

“No!” Chat nearly shouted before grimacing. Her eyes snapped over to connect with his as she frowned at him in confusion. What had caused that little outburst? Opening her mouth to ask him just that, he cut her off by speaking again, his cheeks suspiciously pink, “W-what I mean is... if he hasn’t asked for it back yet, you can probably keep it. I-I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

This was very unlike the superhero. He rarely stuttered and almost never had a sentence that didn’t include a pun of some kind. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him suspiciously. “What’s wrong, Chaton? You’re acting very jittery all of a sudden.”

“Nothing’s wrong!” he squeaked in a rather high-pitched voice, his eyes darting around her room. “I just... are you sure he only sees you as a friend?”

Marinette threw her head back in a laugh. Adrien had only said it about a million times. Her eyes glimmered mischievously as she looked back over at him, crossing her arms with a smirk. Getting off of her chaise, she walked over to him and flicked his bell playfully. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Huh?” Chat frowned at her in genuine confusion for a brief moment before his face lit up in realization. He waved his hand in the air as he chuckled awkwardly. “No, no, not at all! Why would I be jealous of a boy I don’t know? At all.”

Now it was her turn to frown at him. Even her attempt to lighten the mood hadn’t worked. Chat was still very tense as he continued to fidget and look everywhere but at her. Raising an eyebrow, she said, “Relax, I was just kidding, kitty. But... why are you acting so strange then?”

“I’m not!” he cleared his throat before he stood up out of her chair quickly. Her shocked eyes met his determined ones as he asked, “Are you sure getting over him is the best plan, though?”

What was Chat even talking about? How did his mood shift so suddenly? With a small gulp, Marinette glanced away from his knowing gaze. “W-well, I mean, yeah, I do. Like I said, Chat, we’re friends and that’s all he wants us to be, and I’m okay with that.”

He nodded solemnly, his eyes looking dejected and she wondered what she had said to cause that kind of a reaction. Slowly, he spoke up, “So, if he did realize that he had feelings for you too, it’d be too late?”

Marinette jolted in shock, the idea too unbelievable that it didn’t even seem realistic. With a quick snort, she said, “That would never happen. But if by some miracle, he woke up and suddenly had feelings for me, I don’t think I would ever be able to turn him down.”

Chat’s face brightened and he turned to look out the window with a bright smile. “Well, purrincess, it looks like the rain has stopped now, so this stray can get out of your fur.”

“I do not have fur!” She scrunched her nose at him in disgust.

Chat simply chuckled before bounding up onto her bed. He gave her a quick wink and a salute as he looked down at her softly. “I’ll see you soon, Marinette.”

“Good night,” Marinette said, giving him a wave as he leaped out of her hatch and took off into the night. Shaking her head, she muttered, “What a strange cat.”

#marichatmay2021 #marichatmay #marichat #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fic #fanfic #ml #mlb

24 notes · View notes

thefatedthoughtofyou · 4 years

Note

Saw your post asking for cute/silly prompts so I’m here to deliver! How about Geralt, Jaskier & Ciri are all on the road & set up camp for the night. Jaskier & Ciri are restless & bored so they start trying to see who can mess with Geralt the most. Things escalate when Jaskier grabs a handful of mud & slings it at his face, causing a mud fight to break out! Hope this works, love your stuff!

(hi soooo....i strayed a little off the prompt... and i know it was supposed to be silly,i know i asked for that AND IT IS!!! there just... some angst snuck in there without my permission but i bounced it back at the end with some sweetness! i hope you like it!!! thank you so much for sending in it!!!!

Ao3

Rainstorms and Overthinking

“It’s been raining for 3 hours is he ever going to stop?”Ciri whispered, her breath tickling Jaskier’s neck. He’d let her climb onto hisback about an hour after the rain started, the mud from the down poor had nearlybeen swallowing her feet. He gave her legs a gentle squeeze as he squintedthrough the rain at Geralt’s back.

“ Oh I doubtit. Why should he stop? The muds not bothering him, he’s on a horse!”Jaskier yelled through the deluge, flinching when a drop of rain hit him directlyin the eye. Ciri moved one of her hands from his shoulder, she wiped at thewater above his eyes and then let her hand settle there, shielding his eyesfrom the rain.

Geralt said nothing, just kept on,Roach walking along the road with ease. Jaskier huffed, and smiled when he feltCiri do the same, in synch with him.

“Maybe if we annoy him enough, he’llstop.” She sighed. Jaskier could feel her pulling at the hood of her cloak, nodoubt trying to shield her own eyes from the rain as well.

“I’m soaking wet Jaskier. My cloak alonehas to weight a million pounds. You can put me down, I’ll be okay.” She pattedhis shoulder for him to stop and let her down. He had no intention of doing anysuch thing.

“Nonsense. Look at this mud. It’snearly up to my knee. If I put you down now, I’ll never see you again. You’llbe swallowed whole and I’d never hear the end of it!” He hiked her up a littleon his back, the rain indeed weighing her down, and smiled when he felt hernuzzle closer.

“Thank you.” She said, always sokind and mannered. That had taken some getting used to.

“Let’s just yell at him until hestops.” She said, her hand wiping water out of his eyes again.

“We can try. But I assure you, inthe past, no amount of yelling or complain on my part has ever stoppedthat man from doing anything.” Jaskier sighed, Ciri laughed into his shoulder.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled.

No reply.

“Geralt don’t be rude he’s talkingto you!” Ciri yelled, not as loud as she could, mindful of how close she was toJaskier’s ear. Jaskier watched Geralt’s head turn minutely to the side, butstill he said nothing, and he did not stop. Jaskier patter Ciri’s leg again andtook a deep breath.

“Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geraaaaaaaallllttttt!” Jaskier yelledand yelled until his lungs where empty, Ciri snorted into his shoulder. He tookanother deep breath, fully intending to keep shouting up at the man through therain when Geralt finally responded.

“There’s a place up ahead. Juststop doing that.” His voice was gruff, and annoyed. Jaskier turned to look atCiri, her eyes shining in the rain, giving her a triumphant smile.

“Well done.” She said, laughingwith him as they followed Geralt and Roach off the path and into the trees.

They walked for maybe ten moreminutes, finally coming to a stop near a small indent in the rocks lining theedge of the forest. Jaskier ran to the rocks, sighing happily at the cover andlet Ciri slide off his back to her feet. She immediately threw her cloak off, layingit out on the smooth ground to dry, as much as it could. She smiled up at Jaskieras he began pulling his doublet off to do the same. He struggled for a moment,the fabric stuck fast to his skin, Ciri grabbed the end of his sleeve, helpinghim yank it free, her bubbly laughter filling the air again, echoing off thestone walls behind them.

Geralt slid off Roach and stompedover to them, splashing mud onto Jaskier’s already soaked pants. Jaskier gaspedand glared at him.

“Ya know just cuz they’re alreadydrenched in mud doesn’t mean they need you adding more you oaf.” Jaskier grumbled,more to himself than to Geralt. Geralt turned to look at him, moving his headslowly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier hissed, wringingout his doublet and dropping it to the ground next to Ciri’s cloak, the fabricmaking a sad flopping sound as it hit the ground, clearly still sopping wet.Jaskier sighed and stretched his back.

“Thanks for stopping Geralt. Evenif it took you three hours.” Ciri said, Jaskier smiled at her cheerful sarcasm.He watched as she paced the edge of the small cave, not really a cave at all,more of an alcove.

“Hmm.” Was all she got in response.

“Such a way with words.” Jaskiermuttered, avoiding Geralt’s eyes but feeling the glare like a dagger in hisneck. Then, Jaskier watched, as if the world was moving in slow motion, as Ciribent down and filled her hand with mud. He pulled his hands to his chest, reflexively,as she turned and threw the mud right at Geralt’s back. He’d been rummaging inhis pack, looking for god knows what. The mud hit him between the shoulderblades, Jaskier moving his hand to his mouth, not able to stop the high-pitchedsound that had slipped from him.

Geralt rounded on him quickly. Jaskier’seyes widened in panic as he moved his hand to point at Ciri, ratting her outwith absolutely no coercion at all. Geralt looked at her slowly. She smiled,the innocence on her face not quite reaching her eyes, and wiggled her muddyfingers at Geralt. He growled, low in his throat, and Jaskier didn’t even wantto think about the reaction his body had to that sound, andstalked towards her slowly.

“Geralt. She’s a child, andprincess, please don’t murder her. I don’t want to be implicated and lose myhead along side you!” Jaskier called, taking a few hesitant steps forward andthen stopping when Geralt turned his glare on him.

“Sorry my dear I can’t help you.You’re on your own.” He held his hands out in front him. Ciri laughed and threwanother handful of mud, this one, Geralt could have dodged easily, he was readythis time, but he let it hit him in the leg. Ciri laughed again, backing up,back out into the rain, grabbing more mud. Her laugh getting more frantic as Geraltbent down to grab a handful of his own. He threw it and hit her square in thechest. Her laughter faltered for only a moment, her eyes falling to her ruineddress, Geralt cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to keep going. She took thedare in stride and tossed mud right at his face.

Jaskier laughed, the sound forcingits way out of his throat at the look on Geralt’s mud covered face. And he knewinstantly it was a mistake. They both turned to look at him, hands full of mud,eyes full of mischief.

“No no no no no no!” he tried to backaway, his feet slipping on the damp stone beneath him as they both raised theirhands. He ran out into the rain, desperate not to be cornered, his feet sinkingdeep into the ground as he tried to get away from them.

“No no no! Not in the-“ the mudslammed into him.

“Face.” He sighed, bringing hishands up and wiping the mud from his eyes. He shook both hands out, looking upat them both. And his heart melted at what he saw, Ciri was doubled overlaughing, so hard there was no longer sound coming from her, her face wasbright red. And Geralt. Geralt was standing there, covered in mud, smiling.Smiling at Ciri. And then, after a few moments, smiling at Jaskier. Jaskier smiledback at him. And then he bent down, grabbed a handful of mud himself, and launchedit at Geralt’s head.

All hell broke loose after that.Mud flying through the air, slamming into them all, Roach walked further away, hidingbehind a tree and shaking her head at their shenanigans. The air filled with laughter.Jaskier would swear he even heard Geralt laugh once and was determined to hearit again. He was chasing Ciri through the deep puddle of mud between them whenhe felt it. Something moving beneath his shirt.

He stopped. Frozen in the rain.Geralt and Ciri both stopped, in synch, and looked at him. He let the mud fallfrom his hands and moved them to his chest. He looked up at Geralt.

“Something… is moving.” His handhovered near his shirt, not touching it. He couldn’t look down, he refused too.He stared at Geralt, his eyes wide and pleading. The Witcher moved to him quickly,his fingers wrapping gently around Jaskier’s wrists and pushing his hands outof the way. He curled a finger into the front of Jaskier’s shirt, pulling thesoaked fabric away from his skin. Jaskier kept his eyes glued to Geralt’s faceand gulped when he saw the man grimace. Geralt moved his eyes from Jaskier’schest to his face.

“What is it?” Jaskier whispered, vaguelyaware of Ciri coming closer, peering around Geralt cautiously.

“Do you… have strong feelings aboutleeches?” Geralt asked, his voice forcibly even. Jaskier felt his stomach drop,he fought the urge to gag.

“Get it off. Get it off get it off!”his voice was strained, the urge to scream and run lodged right in throat.Geralt did as he was told, he reached into Jaskier’s shirt quickly. Jaskier feltthe pull on his skin and fought the urge to faint. He squeezed his eyes shuttight.

“It’s gone.” Geralt said, quietly,Jaskier opened his eyes to see Geralt toss the…thing, aside. His skin prickledand he let out a low moan, he tore his shirt off over his head, running back intothe stone alcove, he threw his shirt out into the mud and fell over with a squawkas he frantically pulled his boots off, tossing them to the side. He shoved hispants down and kicked his legs to free himself. He scrambled to his feet again,turning in circles, holding his arms out.

“Do you see anymore?” He was shaking,his voice trembling.

“There’s no more Jaskier.” Ciri’s smallvoice said. Jaskier inhaled sharply when her cold hand touched his arm. Helooked down at her.

“Are you alright?” She asked,smiling shyly up at him. He tried to smile down at her and then realized he wasstanding in only his undergarments in front of her and took a few steps back, trying his best tocover himself, his hand splayed out on his chest like some fair maiden who hadjust been caught in a compromising position.

“I’m fine. Completely fine I’m… naked,essentially, in front a twelve-year-old princess but ya know, other than that, I’mgreat. Splendid! How are you?” his words falling out his mouth in a rush,making her smile.

“Well, I know the circumstances hadto have been different, but lets not pretend you’ve never been naked in front ofa princess before.” She looked at him, leveling him with a smirk. The laughthat burst out of him was awkward, but it lessened the tension. Geralt walkedback over from Roach and pressed into Jaskier’s personal space. The rain hadstopped now, the few remaining sounds of falling water coming from the drippingtrees a few feet away. Geralt’s brow was furrowed as he wrapped a very dry,very warm, blanket around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier shivered and snuggledinto the warmth immediately. Geralt sat him on the ground against the back ofthe alcove, looking at him for a moment, nodding to himself, seemingly satisfied,and then walked away again.

Jaskier watched him disappear intothe trees, pulling his knees up to his chest, and smiled when Ciri sat downnext to him, her head falling onto his shoulder. She got up after a few moments,ran out to Roach, patter her head for a moment, then dug around for a blanketof her own. She smiled to herself when she found what she was looking for andran back to settle in next to him. Geralt came back awhile later, having foundenough dry wood for a small fire.

Ciri ate the bread Geralt handedher and then dozed off quickly, tucked inside her blanket, curled up like a cat.Jaskier had stayed pressed against the back wall, not talking, eating in silenceand avoiding the concerned glances from Geralt. He also had a sneaking suspicionthat Ciri was pretending to sleep to give them space. She was a smart girl, she’dno doubt been feeling the tension between them. Jaskier knew he’d been feelingit, though he’d been trying to push it down as far as possible in the hopes itwould maybe just… go away.

Geralt tossed the last end of his stalebread into the small fire and got up from where he’d been sitting. He nudgedJaskier’s leg with his toe, Jaskier looked up at him, confused, to say theleast. Geralt reached down, pulled one side of the blanket open and pressedhimself into Jaskier’s side, pulling the blanket around them both. He sits. Silently.Pressed side to side with Jaskier. Try as he might, Jaskier can’t stand thesilence.

“I’m sorry.” He says, worrying theblanket between his fingers nervously.

“Sorry for what?” Geralt asks, andhe has the decency to sound genuinely confused.

“We were having a good time. For once.And I ruined it.” He sighs, dropping his head back against the chilly stonebehind him. Geralt shifts next to him, pressing closer, Jaskier holds in theshiver that threatens to run through him at the closeness.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He says,serious as always.

“I did though. You were laughing. Idon’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh, and that’s a travesty by the way becausethe laugh I heard today… it was nice. You should definitely bless the worldwith that laugh more often. But that’s not the point. The point… the point was…what was the point? Oh! The point was you laughed, and would have probably laughedagain and I ruined it. You both got all worried. Because of me.” He bit his lipand looked into his lap. He felt so stupid, it wasn’t a big deal. Shouldn’t havebeen anyway.

“Do you want to talk about it?”Geralt pressed his elbow softly into his ribs.

“Talk about what?” Jaskier wasplaying dumb, he knew it, but it was all he had right now.

“Whatever it is that made you reactthat way. Must have been something bad if it has you sulking this much.” Jaskierlooks at him then, and he’s… he’s smiling. Geralt of Rivia, is smiling at him,pressed close to him under a blanket. Jaskier swallows, fights all of his, admittedlyterrible, instincts that are telling him to lean over and kiss him, and looksback to his lap, pressing the hem of the blanket between his fingers.

“It’s nothing. Just a bad experiencewhen I was kid. There was a pond. It was full of leeches. I fell in, freakedout, ran home. Unfortunately, the manor was full of guests for some kind ofparty my parents were throwing. I ran in crying, covered in leeches. Everyonelaughed. I was traumatized. It was all very character building I suppose.” He looksback at Geralt, a pained smile on his face.

“Didn’t feel very character buildingat the time though.” He was almost whispering now, he felt Geralt press evercloser.

“I’m sorry that happened.” Thetender sincerity in his voice made Jaskier’s chest ache.

“I’ve never been fond of leecheseither. I know logically they can be helpful, but I’d rather not come acrossthem if I can help it.” He smiled at Jaskier, again, and Jaskier could hear hisheart pounding in his ears.

“So nervous.” Geralt is whisperingnow, his voice teasing, Jaskier shivers when his breath ghosts over his skin.

“I- I’m not nervous. Who’s nervous?”Jaskier stammered, swallowing hard, and then Geralt’s fingers are touching hisarm. Jaskier feels himself flush, fire burning his skin where Geralt’s fingersrest, crawling across his body as Geralt moves his hand up Jaskier’s arm.

“Your heart is beating awfully fastfor someone who isn’t nervous.” Geralt pauses, his fingers move under Jaskier’schin and he pushes Jaskier’s head up gently. Jaskier swallows hard, again, whenhis eyes meet Geralt’s, his hands are trembling in his lap.

“Right. Yeah. Ya know I’ve beenthinking maybe I have anxiety issues. Cuz I’ve noticed that too… ya know… thatit’s- it’s been happening… a lot.” Jaskier clears his throat, his voice trailingoff.

“…Lately.” He breaths, lamely, notsure why he’s even still talking. He watches Geralt’s lips quirk, the corner ofhis mouth lifting just so, as he looks at Jaskier and Jaskier looks right back,and sighs. He can’t help it. This whole situation, this moment in time, Geraltwillingly curled up under a blanket with him, is just so… soft.

“Hmm. Anxiety. Right.” Geralt says,and he’s pressing closer, and Jaskier wants to let this happen, he wants topress forward too and close the barely there distance, but he’s… scared. Geraltis so close, Jaskier watches the Witcher’s eyes begin to fall closed and hefeels himself tense up.

“Jaskier.” Geralt breathes, stillso close.

“Mhm?” he hums, his throat so tighthe can’t manage any actual words.

“You’re overthinking it.” He whispers,his hand moving to Jaskier’s neck, his thumb moving against his cheek as hepulls him close, closing the distance. Jaskier hears himself whimper when theirlips touch. A small, needy, sound that Geralt swallows greedily, pullingJaskier closer still, his hand snaking down around Jaskier’s waist, the warmthof his skin against Jaskier’s making him gasp. Geralt smiles against his lipsand presses his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth, Jaskier fists his hands in Geralt’sshirt and holds him close, letting Geralt take whatever he wants from him.

Geralt pulls back, resting his foreheadagainst Jaskier’s. They stay that way, for a long time. Or maybe no time atall. Jaskier can’t tell the different anymore. Not right now. He’s trembling inGeralt’s arms as he holds him close. After what seems like ages and millisecondssimultaneously Geralt lays them both down, pulling Jaskier against his chest,making sure the blanket is covering them both.

“Overthinking it?” Jaskier breathes,his head resting on Geralt’s chest.

“Hmm. It’s interesting. The onlytime you seem to overthink anything, is with me.” Geralt said, thoughtful, hisfingers moving into Jaskier’s hair.

“And just what does that mean?”Jaskier tires his best to sound offended, but he’s finding it hard.

“You know very well that you don’tthink before you act. Ever.” He moves his head to look down at Jaskier as Jaskierlooks up at him.

“Except with you.” Jaskier says,his fingers curling in Geralt’s shirt. Geralt smiles softly at him, his fingersmoving soothingly against Jaskier’s scalp.

“Except with me.” Geralt agrees.Jaskier looks at him for a moment longer and then rests his head back againstGeralt’s chest, wrapping his arm around him and snuggling closer.

“And you just love that don’t you? Beingthe one thing that makes me think.” Jaskier pokes him in the ribs.

“Not especially. You overthink andyour heart gets loud. Very annoying.” Geralt mutters, but presses a kiss intoJaskier’s hair.

“Oh shut up. I know you love it.”Jaskier mumbles, he can feel sleep coming to claim him, his eyelids heavy.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, his chestrumbling beneath Jaskier’s cheek.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks, his eyesfalling shut and then snapping open, his whole body twitching as he fights offsleep.

“Jaskier.”

“Don’t leave me. Promise you’ll behere when I wake up.” Jaskier whispers the words into Geralt’s chest like a prayer.

“I’m not going anywhere. Go tosleep Julian. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be right here.” Jaskier smilesat the name, sounding so right in Geralt’s mouth. He feels Geralt’s arm wrap aroundhim, holding him close, and lets sleep carry him away to dreams full of rainand laughter.

#amazingmsme #hey hi hello thank you for this so much #geraskier prompt #geraskier request #requests #prompts #geraskier fic #geraskier #prompt fil #my writing

102 notes · View notes

a-vast-horizon · 4 years

Text

The Ink Demonth Day 25: Sunshine

The morning after they escape from the Studio, Bendy wakes Henry up

Read on AO3 here or keep reading below

After spending God-knows-how-long looping through the Studio, when Henry finally got back to his own house, he wanted to sleep for a week. Unfortunately for him, at a little past six in the morning on the day after escaping, a small body plopped onto his chest and a pair of gloved hands shook him awake.

“Henry, wake up!” Bendy’s voice came out in a stage whisper, just barely quieter than his regular speaking voice. Henry’s eyes reluctantly opened to see Bendy’s face looking down at him. The devil looked absolutely distraught.

“Bendy?” Henry asked, groggily attempting to sit up despite the toon perched on his chest. Bendy, thankfully, got the hint and jumped off the bed, letting Henry push himself upright.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Henry asked.

“Henry, somethin’s wrong with the sky!” Bendy said.

“Wrong how?” Henry asked, already getting out of bed and reaching for the curtains of his bedroom window. He dreaded what he’d see: a rainstorm of ink, the yellow wooden paneling of the Studio, utter blankness like an empty sheet of paper?

But when he pulled the curtains open, the scene that greeted him was entirely ordinary. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, lightening the sky from black to blue. Henry winced a little at the sudden light, but Bendy outright flinched away from the window, hiding behind Henry’s legs.

“Everything seems normal to me,” Henry said. “What’s wrong about it, Bendy?”

Bendy shuffled his feet a little and sent another nervous glance towards the window, hesitating before he finally spoke.

“It’s so bright,” Bendy said. “Nothing’s that bright ‘cept The End.”

Oh, right. Bendy had never actually seen the world outside of the Studio, and that was endless dark rooms broken up only by the blinding light of the loop resetting. No wonder Bendy had been so nervous.

“Hey, Bendy, I promise it’s okay,” Henry said. “That’s just the sun.”

Bendy shook his head. “The sun was never that bright in the cartoons. Somethin’s gotta be wrong with it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Ben. We can’t make cartoons any brighter than the projectors,” Henry said. “Just cause we couldn’t make the sun this bright in the cartoons doesn’t mean it’s not supposed to be.”

Bendy looked up at Henry, skeptical.

“Yer sure it’s not The End, right? It’s not gonna just… reset everything, right?” Bendy pleaded.

“If it was, I’d be just as worried as you,” Henry said, rubbing a hand against Bendy’s head. “It just makes everything easier to see, and warms things up, that’s all.”

Bendy didn’t seem all that convinced, if the tight grip he kept on Henry’s pant leg was any indication, but Henry couldn’t expect him to adjust to the world outside the Studio in a single day. For now, he seemed to be trusting Henry’s word, at least, and that was enough.

“Now, since I’m awake anyway… how about some breakfast?” Henry suggested.

That got Bendy’s attention.

“Breakfast? Like, pancakes and stuff?” Bendy asked.

“Sure, if pancakes are what you want,” Henry said, slowly making his way toward the kitchen. Bendy followed behind him, his excitement starting to overpower his fear. Henry pulled out a step stool so that Bendy would be able to see what Henry was doing, and set about mixing up pancake batter while Bendy eagerly watched his every move.

By the time the pancakes were done, the sun had finished rising, and shone in through the kitchen windows. Bendy barely seemed to notice.

One problem solved, then. Probably only a million more to go.

#the ink demonth #bendy and the ink machine #see i can do cute and fluffy! ... kinda #zen talks #zen writes

13 notes · View notes

fuckheadwitha · 4 years

Text

Listening to Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All Time

Rolling Stone released an updated list of their top 500 albums of all time and being trapped in the purgatory of covid quarantine this seems like the perfect moment to tackle what an almost completely irrelevant former counter-culture institution has to say about music (we can’t actually blame Rolling Stone for this list, a huge number of musicians and critics voted to make it). I am going to listen to every single one of these, all the way through, with a level of attention that's not super intense but I'm definitely not having them on in the background as simple aural wallpaper. Two caveats though: I can make an executive decision to skip any album if I feel the experience is sufficiently miserable, and I'm also going to be skipping the compilation albums that I feel aren't really worth slots (best ofs, etc.). In addition, I will be ordering them as I go, creating a top 500 of the top 500 (it will be less than 500 since we've already established I'm skipping some of these).

Here are 500-490:

#500 Arcade Fire - Funeral

I can already tell I'm going to be at odds with this list if one of the most important albums of my high school years is at the bottom. That being said, I haven't actually given this whole thing a listen since probably the early 2010s, before Arcade Fire fatigue set in and the hipsterati appointed band of a generation just kinda seemed to fade from popular consciousness. I actually dreaded re-experiencing it, since the synthesis of anthemic rock and quirky folk instrumentation which Arcade Fire brought mainstream has now become the common shorthand of insufferable spotify friendly folk pop. Blessedly, the first half of the album easily holds up, largely propelled by dirty fast rhythm guitar, orchestration that's tuneful rather than obnoxious, and lyrics which come off as earnest rather than pretentious. The middle gets a little sappy and “Crown of Love”, a song I definitely used to like, really starts the grate. And then we get to “Wake Up”, whose cultural saturation spawned thousands of dorky indie rock outfits that confused layered strings and horns with power and meaning. This song definitely hasn't survived the film trailers and commercials which it so ubiquitously overlayed, but the line about "a million little gods causing rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust" still attacks the part of my brain capable of sincere emotion. This album is probably going to hold the top spot for a while, because although so many elements of Funeral that made it feel so meaningful, that made it stand out so much in 2004, have been seamlessly assimilated into an intellectually and emotionally bankrupt indie pop industrial complex, the album itself still has a genuine vulnerability and bangers that still manage to rip.

#499

Rufus, Chaka Khan - Ask Rufus

Before she became a name in her own right, Chaka Khan was the voice of the band Rufus, and it’s definitely her voice that shines amongst some spritely vibey funk. That’s not to say that these aren’t some jams on their own. “At Midnight” is a banging opener with a sprint to the finish, and although the explicitly named but kinda boring “Slow Screw Against the Wall” feels weak, this wasn’t really supposed to be an album of barn burners. This was something people put on their vinyl record players while they chilled on vinyl furniture after a night of doing cocaine. “Everlasting Love” is a bop with a bassline like a Sega Genesis game, and the twinkling piano on “Hollywood” adds a playful levity to lyrics that are supposed to be both tackily optimistic about making it big out in LA and subtly realistic about the kind of nightmare world showbiz can be. “Better Days” is another track that manages to be a bittersweet jam with a catchy sour saxophone and playful synths under Chaka Khan’s vamping. This album definitely belongs on a ‘chill funk to study and relax to’ playlist.

#498

Suicide - Suicide

We’ve hit the first album that could be rightly called a progenitor for multiple genres that followed it. Someone could say there’s a self-serving element of this being on a Rolling Stone list (the band was one of the first to adopt the label ‘Punk’ after seeing it in a Lester Bangs article) but the album’s legacy is basically indisputable. EBM, industrial, punk, post-punk, new wave, new whatever all have a genealogy that connects to Suicide, and it’s easy to hear the band in everything that followed. But what the band actually is is two guys, one with an electric organ and one with a spooky voice, doing spooky simple riffs and saying spooky simple things. Simplicity is definitely not a dis here. The opener “Ghost Rider” makes a banger out of four notes and one instrument, and the refrain ‘America America is killing its youth’ is really all the lyrical complexity you need to fucking get it. “Cheree” and “Girl” have almost identical lyrics (‘oh baby’ vs ‘oh girl’) but “Cheree” is more like a fairy tale and “Girl” is more like a sonic handjob. “Frankie Teardrop” has the audacity to tell a ten minute story with its lyrics, but of course there is intermittent, actually way too loud screaming breaking up the narrative of a guy who loses everything then kills his family and himself. The song is basically a novelty, and I think you can probably say the whole album is a novelty between its brevity and character. But for a bite sized snack this album casts a huge shadow.

#497

Various Artists - The Indestructible Beat of Soweto

The fact that this particular compilation always ends up in the canon has a lot to do with the cultural context it existed in, being America’s first encounter with South African contemporary music during the decline of apartheid (it wouldn’t end until a decade later in 1994 with the country’s first multi-racial elections). Music journos often bring up the fact Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the all male choir singing on the album ender “Nansi Imali”, sang on Paul Simon’s Graceland like their virtue is they helped Paul Simon get over his depression and not, like, the actual music. But also like, how is the actual music? Jams. Ubiquitous, hooky guitars propel the songs along with bright choruses over low lead vocals, but I didn’t expect the synthesizer on the bop “Qhude Manikiniki”, nor the discordant hoedown violin on “Sobabamba”. “Holotelani” is a groove to walk into the sunset to.

#496

Shakira - Donde Estan los Ladrones

So this is the first head scratcher on the list. It’s not like it sucks. And I think I prefer this 90s guitar pop driven spanish language Shakira to modern superstar Shakira. But I mean, it’s an album of late nineties latin pop minivan music, with a thick syrupy middle that doesn’t do anything for me. The opener and closer stand out though. ‘Ciega, Sordomuda’, one of the biggest pop songs of the 90s (it was #1 on the charts of literally every country in Latin America), has a galloping acoustic guitar and horn hits with Shakira’s vocals at their most percussive.

#495

Boyz II Men - II

So, if you were alive in the 90s you know Boyz II Men were fucking huge, and the worst song on the album is the second track “All Around the World”, basically a love song to their own success, and also the women they’ve banged. You can tell it was written specifically so that the crowd could go fucking wild when they heard their state/city/country mentioned in the song, and I’m not gonna double check but I’m sure they hit all fifty states. Once you’re over that hump though you basically have an hour of songs to fuck to. “U Know” keeps it catchy with propulsive midi guitar and synth horns, “Jezzebel” starts with a skit and ends with a richly layered jazz tune about falling in love on a train, and “On Bended Knee” has a Ragnarok Online type beat. Honestly this album can drag, but you’re not supposed to be listening to it alone in a state of analysis, you’re supposed to have it on during a date that’s going really, really well.

#494

The Ronettes - Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes

A singles compilation of the Ronettes, the only ones I immediately recognized were ‘Be My Baby’ and ‘Going to the Chapel of Love’, the latter of which I didn’t know existed since the version of the song I knew was by the Dixie Cups, which was apparently a source of drama since the Ronettes did it first but producer Phil Spector refused to release it. I feel like as a retro trip to sixties girl groups it’s full of enough songs about breaking up (for example “Breaking Up”) getting back together (for example “Breaking Up”) and wanting to get married but you can’t, because you’re a teenager (“So Young”).

#493

Marvin Gaye - Here, My Dear

This album only exists because Marvin was required by his divorce settlement to make it and provide all of the royalties to his ex-wife and motown executive Anna Gordy Gaye. It’s absolutely bizarre, phoned in mid tempo funk whose lyrics range from the passive aggressive (“This is what you wanted right?”) to the petulant (“Why do I have to pay attorney’s fees?”). There is a seething realness here that crosses well past the border of uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s an amazing album to listen to, but it’s an amazing album to exist: Marvin Gaye is legally obligated to throw his own divorce pity party, and everyone's invited.

#492

Bonnie Raitt - Nick of Time

I have never heard of Bonnie Raitt before but apparently this album won several grammys including album of the year in 1989 and sold 5 million copies, which I guess goes to show that no award provides less long term relevance than the grammys. The story around the album is pretty heartwarming, it was her first massive hit after a career of whiffs, and Bonnie Raitt herself is apparently a social activist and neat human being. I say all this because this sort of 80s country blues rock doesn't really connect with me, but the artist obviously deserves more than that. I unequivocally like the title track though, a hand-clap backed winding electric piano groove about literally finding love before your eggs dry up.

#491

Harry Styles - Fine Line

I do not think I have ever heard a one direction song because I am an adult who only listens to public radio. I’m totally open to pop bands or boy bands or boy band refugee solo artists, but I don’t like anything here. It’s like a mixtape of the worst pop trends of the decade, from glam rock that sounds like it belongs in a car commercial to folky bullshit that sounds like it belongs in a more family focused car commercial. This gets my first DNP (Does Not Place).

#490

Linda Ronstadt - Heart Like a Wheel

Another soft-rock blues and country album which just doesn’t land with me. But the opener “You’re No Good” is like a soul/country hybrid which still goes hard and the title track hits with the lyrics “And it's only love and it's only love / That can wreck a human being and turn him inside out”.

Current Ranking, which is weirdly almost like an inverse of the rolling stones list so far;

#rolling stone #500 greatest albums of all time

4 notes · View notes

stele3 · 2 months

Link

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Additional Tags: Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Duke Thomas is Signal, Tim Drake is Robin, Mute Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Light BDSM, Sub Top Jason Todd, Dom bottom Dick Grayson, Trans Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is a Better Parent Than Bruce Wayne, Bad Parent Bruce Wayne, Under the Hood Arc (DCU), Historical setting - early 2000's, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Canonical Child Abuse, Hypersexuality, Touch-Starved Dick Grayson, background relationship - Duke Thomas/Stephanie Brown Series: Part 2 of Dick Grayson: Professional Eldest Daughter Summary:

Dick Grayson meets Red Hood.

-o-

This fic is canon compliant with the comics version of UtRH. For those who have actually read the arc, you can probably guess that this story is going to be very, very anti-Bruce Wayne.

It also deals a lot with rape recovery and aftermath. Both Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon are canonically rape survivors; in the context of Jason Todd being trans and a victim of the Joker's violence, he is, too. Their assaults are not explicitly discussed but all three of them deal with it in very different ways.

I don't have all of the fic planned out so I might need to add tags for stuff that comes up. PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS REGULARLY, and read the notes at the start of each chapter.

And finally, I'm stretching the timeline a little. "How to Be A Robin" happens in the late 90's; this story happens in the mid-00's, but it's only been 3 years since Jason died. Shhh, shhh, comics. *waves hands*

#a million little gods causing rainstorms #batman #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd

20 notes · View notes

music-and-quotes · 5 years

Quote

We’re just a million little gods causing rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust.

Arcade Fire, Wake Up

#music #lyrics #artists #poetry #quotes #writing #song quotes #alt #alternative #hipster #words #prose #lit #literature #emotion #indie #songs

195 notes · View notes

historyhasitseyesonyournudes · 5 years

Text

When arcade fire said "Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up, we're just a million little gods causing rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust

I guess we'll just have to adjust"

#took me forever to find this specific reaction pic #arcade fire #14 year old sarah was shook

27 notes · View notes

ao3feed-jaydick · 3 months

Text

A Million Little Gods Causing Rainstorms

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54451180 by stele3 Dick Grayson meets Red Hood. -o- This fic is canon compliant with the comics version of UtRH. For those who have actually read the arc, you can probably guess that this story is going to be very, very anti-Bruce Wayne. It also deals a lot with rape recovery and aftermath. Both Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon are canonically rape survivors; in the context of Jason Todd being trans and a victim of the Joker's violence, he is, too. Their assaults are not explicitly discussed but all three of them deal with it in very different ways. I don't have all of the fic planned out so I might need to add tags for stuff that comes up. PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS REGULARLY, and read the notes at the start of each chapter. And finally, I'm stretching the timeline a little. "How to Be A Robin" happens in the late 90's; this story happens in the mid-00's, but it's only been 3 years since Jason died. Shhh, shhh, comics. *waves hands* Words: 5656, Chapters: 4/?, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Dick Grayson: Professional Eldest Daughter Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Duke Thomas, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Duke Thomas is Signal, Tim Drake is Robin, Mute Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Light BDSM, Sub Top Jason Todd, Dom bottom Dick Grayson, Trans Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is a Better Parent Than Bruce Wayne, Bad Parent Bruce Wayne, Under the Hood Arc (DCU), Historical setting - early 2000's, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Canonical Child Abuse read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54451180

#IFTTT #AO3feed #Jaydick #DC

0 notes

calypsolemon · 5 years

Photo

we’re just a million little gods causing rainstorms

#the lego movie #the lego movie 2 #tlm #tlm2 #lego movie 2 #bianca #hear me out: bianca gay #cal draws stuff #leg move yaoi

190 notes · View notes

lover-of-wolves · 3 years

Note

“What sort of Craft do you do?” (Vannevar)

Myth and Magic Sentence Starters -- accepting

“ I’m a spirit worker by nature, ” Connor answered, CAREFULLY evaluating the vampire in front of him. Analyzing him. Every SHIFT in posture, in gaze, trying to read him for any signs of aggression or MALICIOUS intent. “ But I’ve practiced dream magic and I’m learning alchemy. ”

Vampires were notoriously dangerous. Connor had never met one face-to-face before. This one had a STARTLING supernatural aura that oozed with power, fluctuating and shimmering like a living thing on its own. This vampire was not just any old leech. Although Connor was tense, there was a burning curiosity in his eyes. This stranger that had strolled into his shop with PURPOSE...what secrets were behind those eyes? What history did he carry?

“ I have a feeling you’re not here for me though, are you? ” Connor said finally, adjusting the rotating display on the counter next to him that held sets of crystal pendulums. He was stocking it when the visitor walked in.

#royalsofnight #v;; we're just a million little gods causing rainstorms { witch }#sorry there isn't an faq { answered }

2 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

my sense of wonder's just a little tired (Branjie) - PinkGrapefruit

for linda, my rock, my friend and my absolute idiot.

(I wrote this last month and forgot to post it)

When everything was broken

The devil hit his second stride

But you remember what I told you

Someday, I’ll need your spine to hide behind

I watch as a tear rolls down your cheek - indistinguishable from the rainstorm we are stood in. Wet shirt clinging to your back like your last regrets, heavy and cold to the touch. Your body shakes like a leaf in the breeze and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, anxiously waiting for something. Anything. The tear is like a petal in the springtime, one of a million yellow rose’s spiralling towards the ground - emotion, undying love, heartbreak. I can see you playing catchup with your own thoughts as they race ahead of you - Olympians in the race of life and god, you’ve never done well in competitions.

My heart beats outside of my chest, cooling in the rain and I cannot watch you break like this. You have always sprouted like dandelions, growing where you are least expected but this feels like someone has cut off your roots and you are left stranded. Alone. I’m sure I could reach out and catch a seed from the air, the fluff tickling at my rough skin like a feather. You are a candle in the wind, one puff in your direction and you are out - I feel I must save you but I do not know how.

For fear of moments stolen

I don’t wanna say goodnight

But I’ll still see you in the morning

Still know your heart and still know both your eyes

I move out of the slight shelter of the doorway, out into the backlot. Trace my fingers along the geraniums of your neck, let the warmth of my fingers heat up the ice of your skin. You relax underneath my touch and I have to remind myself that you are not used to the love of another person - you do not usually get to feel this joy. The warm caramel is soft like summer and I wonder, just for a second, if we could get out of here. But this is a production - we cannot escape.

I light a cigarette instead, you are not yet done in your sorrow and I must let you grieve the only way I know how to. It may be raining but the smoke I exhale blooms aconites - lets them grow under the heavy water droplets only to be blown away by a breeze. They taste of misanthropy and stale ash. It’s a taste not easily forgotten, then again neither are you.

I wonder for a second, whether we could have been more - whether we could have withstood the storm clouds and lived to see a brighter day. But it doesn’t work like that and I could not will away the hurricane to protect you from its winds. I could not dissipate the tornado in time for it to spare the fragile house we built together. Every brick, a promise that we could not keep.

I am grateful your tears are indistinguishable from the rain - I’m not sure if I could cope with seeing them.

I could have told you ‘bout the long nights

How no one loves the birds that don’t rise

So you can tell the heroes go hide

My sense of wonder’s just a little tired

I wonder how it would feel to have my heart stomped on by those heels. I don’t really wonder though, I know how it feels. I know what it is like to have those laces tied around your lungs squeezing out the last breath of air as you try to explain the inexplicable. How it felt to feel the black stiletto puncture my throat.

You throw words like knives when you feel you must. I have always admired that.

My words are more like arrows. They go where I intend with grace and dignity. There are no doubts, just quick, solid movements.

Our relationship was cut apart by knives not arrows. There was no grace, no solidity as the four walls were torn apart, just the feeling of cool metal on hot skin, a green willow in a field of heliotrope.

I stub out the cigarette on the wall I am leaning on, hope that the rest of the queens will have left by the time I return to the dressing room so that I will not have to explain why my dress is wet and stained with the remnants of my heart.

But if only you could see yourself in my eyes

You’d see you shine, you shine

I know you’d never leave me behind

But I am lost this time

You turn around like you are not expecting me to still be there. I wonder if the emptiness in your eyes is my fault but know that it will be anyway so I keep my mouth shut and my eyes front and hope that if I keep my chin high you won’t see the cracks. You won’t notice the tears that are pooling in my eyes.

Every part of me is yearning for the warmth that I know neither of us possess even when the rain burns like fire, scattering the truths of the past year onto the concrete with reckless abandon. I can only hope it will bloom in irises where the tears had washed away the honeysuckle we tended together.

How can flowers watered with love still turn so sour?

We are stood on a small square of cement and yet it feels like there is an ocean between us, distance stretching aeons into the backs of your eyes. They pool water like the oversaturated ground, murky and dark and full of a lost cause you won’t let go of. I am begging you to let go.

Are we destined to burn or will we last the night?

I will hold you ‘til I hold you right

You tell me you want to hold on, that the door is big enough for the both of us, the lifeboat can hold our weight. I want to believe you so badly but my heart aches and my lungs are on fire and we carry the scars from this on our bodies for the world to see. You cannot stop up the holes in a sinking ship, must yield to the power of the sea as it draws you away.

I close my eyes when we hug, try to make it feel like it used to when we were dry and safe and no one could hurt us but us - and then we hurt us. I open my eyes.

When I go back inside, you do not complain. You don’t argue. There is no fight. Only silence as the raindrops splatter onto the solid ground.

But if only you could see yourself in my eyes

You’d see you shine, you shine

I do not turn around because I am a coward.

you shine

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #hella angst #absolute angst #song fic #canon compliant #pinkgrapefruit #concrit welcome #submission

36 notes · View notes