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#and you KNOW what my love mary oliver said
romiantic · 7 months
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DRIVE ME CRAZY !
how your faves act after an argument
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→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff/crack + joking of death
→ A/N: literally had sooooooooo much fun writing this cause I genuinely can see these characters like each category 😭. especially the jjk mfs
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dramatic ass mfs — they are literally screaming and crying, BEGGING for you to forgive them. they didn’t mean to yell at you bae, please take them back. no but for real, please take them back, even their friends are hoping every single day that y’all make up and won’t have to hear anymore crying. they’re constantly replaying y’all arguments in their head and wishing they didn’t say what they said or did what they did. they love you so much and hate seeing you get mad at them, even over the smallest thing. you’re their heart’s lifeline and will feel like they’re goners without you by their side. they’re the embodiment of shitting, crying, sliding down the wall in slow motion, throwing up, when y/n is mad at them. please shut them up and forgive them
GOJO, deku, kaminari, atsumu, OIKAWA, yuji, kise, jean, 1610!miles, luffy, SANJI, bachira, connie, sasha, nobara, bokuto, reo, kagami
alright mr/ms. idgaf ! — these “nonchalant” ass mfs act like they don’t give a damn that y’all fought, it’s whatever. no it’s not. these mfs are literally hurting in the chest, they just know how to cover it up well that’s all it is. well, at first they will play it off as if they genuinely don’t care and continue on with their day, playing a game of “who falls first” and believing they’ll win. but as the day goes on, they feel a growing pit of pain and regret. they feel like something is missing and start to spiral when they realize they miss you too much. they can’t keep living like this and call you quickly but cover the much earlier mood by acting nonchalant. they’re pretending that they ain’t care that much, don’t believe them babes !
BAKUGO, ymir, yelena, TOJI, megumi, nanami, choso, 42!miles, geto, zoro, AOMINE, murasakibara, midorima, kuroo, osamu, rin, SAE, barou, eren, levi, maki, dabi, hawks, porco, suna, chigiri, oliver
auntie music is playing — I genuinely don’t know which is worse, them or the dramatic mfs. they start out as dramatic, begging for forgiveness but seeing that you won’t, they continue their day with dreary and sadness. they think of how they shouldn’t have done what they did and concoct a plan to figure out how to win you back, through music. I mean, a way through a person’s heart is through music, prove me wrong? exactly. they’ve stalked your music profile and gathered what you listen to on a regular day, creating a playlist off it. they think of an idea that is brilliant, so brilliant that they’re standing outside your window at two a.m. with a boombox (yes they still make those) in their hand, and “be without you” by mary j blige is playing. they’re screaming screeching the lyrics at the top of their lungs until you text them to stop and come inside. the music stops and they walk inside with quickness and ridiculously stupid smile on their face <3
CONNIE, isagi (bachira’s idea), shidou, todo, GOJO, yuji, bokuto, hinata (haikyuu), nagi, HOBIE, tanaka
i apologize a trillion times — they are in the same category as dramatic but more subtle??? I mean they’re not snot-nosed crying on instagram or posting pictures of you two with some corny music playing in the background with the captions “guys tell y/n to take me back” “I miss my bae” “I’d rather d*e than let y/n leave me”. but depending on the person, they would find any way, shape, or form to apologize. I mean anyway, through a message from an airplane, sending you ten text messages, yes ten, of long paragraphs saying that they’re sorry and they love you so much. they’ll even apologize to you through email, with the subject saying “BABY I MISS YOU”. in conclusion, they’re just “dramatic ass mfs” in a different font
kirishima, aizawa, ARMIN, choso, REINER, mikasa, onyankonpon, kunigami, akashi (knb), kuroo, iwaizumi, akashi (haikyuu), kuroko, YUTA, inumaki, miguel, gwen, shoto, usopp, ace, aran, eren, OLIVER
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⭑ literally felt like gojo, connie, and eren could fit all 4 categories ngl 💀
⭑ okay but the amount of fun I had making this-
𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: Psalm 139:14
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MULTI FANDONM MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST
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© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽
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try-set-me-on-fire · 6 months
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How about odd socks for the soft prompts?
Eddie tries to write his vows. Poem excerpts from E.E. Cummings’ [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], Mary Oliver’s The Mango, and Pablo Neruda’s Finale. Plain text version on AO3 here and under the read more!
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Dear Buck oh its not a letter
Buck
Evan Buckley (?)
From the day we met, I
I take thee to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part except I don’t want to stop loving you when either of us die. I don’t want to part. Till the glaciers have melted and the oceans have dried up, till Mount Whitney (the tallest mountain in California, I looked it up) is eroded to a molehill, till the heat death of the universe do us part. Maybe that will be enough time
I keep thinking about that time you wore those fucking socks to work and Bobby and everyone were trying to really gently asses if you were having a breakdown because we just see AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE on your ankle and then you laughed and pulled up your pants and it said “GET LOST IN NATURE AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE” which like I still think is kind of a fucked up thing to put on a sock but you just did one of your beautiful sunshine grins (we weren’t even together but god I still got light headed looking at you) and were like “I thought it would be neat to remind people the importance of safety in nature” and I was kind of teasing and annoyed and laughed about it and that was like three years ago Buck and I still feel guilty about it because if you were going through some kind of crisis I don’t ever want to be annoyed and laugh about it, I want to be there for you no matter what and I hope I’ve proven that to you over the years, that I don’t just love you on easy days, I love you every single day all the time even when everything’s fucked even if I can’t write wedding vows to save my life christ this is terrible
I love your nose and your birthmark and your eyebrows and your hair and your shoulders and the bends of your elbows, and your wrists and hands, and I love your nipples and hip bones and cock and ass and knees and your shin, I love the scars on your shin, I love every scar you have because none of them killed you
How about
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
Or
But this was a rich house, and clever too.
After salmon and salads,
mangoes for everyone appeared on blue plates,
each one cut in half and scored
and shoved forward from its rind, like an orange flower,
cubist and juicy.
When I began to eat
things happened.
Or
your head on the pillow,
your hands floating
in the light, in my light,
over my earth.
It was beautiful to live
when you lived
The world is bluer and of the earth
at night, when I sleep
enormous, within your small hands.
Before the ceremony I told Shannon “It’s going to be okay” and in the moment I believed it because I had her and I was scared but she was my best friend and up there in front of her parents and mine I said the regular vows but I think that first one was what counted even if it didn’t end up being true. Maybe I’ve been telling you my vows for years. You can have my back any day. There’s no one on earth I trust with my son - with our son - more than you. Every time I tell you I love you, isn’t that a promise?
I’ve been happy before in my life, despite everything I don’t think I was an unhappy man, not always, only sometimes, but you make me happier than I thought was possible. That kind of feeling when you laugh too hard and you’re not getting enough oxygen to your brain. Isn’t that romantic, you give me hypoxia
Here’s the thing you know I’m going to get up there and just start crying immediately so I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to find words I won’t even be able to get out
No hi this is me two hours later of course this is important you’re important you knowing how much I love you is so important to me and I will stand up there blubbering at you for hours if that’s what it takes
I trust you. I love you. I am happy with you. I want to wake up beside you always, Buck I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you next to me first thing in the morning (or night or afternoon or whenever we’ve finished sleeping), touching your warm body with your lungs breathing and your heart beating and the solidity of you feels like a miracle
I’ll buy you socks so your feet don’t get cold and I’ll bring you fruit because you like to eat sweet things and wherever I live will be your home and I’ll be by your side as long as you do me the honor of wanting me there and everything I have and am is yours and I
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punkbarbarian · 1 month
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a family reunion, from fistfight to cigarette
up the wolves, the mountain goats // the elektra complex, joan tierney // all about love, bell hooks // on earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong // the wee free men, terry pratchett // you're gonna go far, noah kahan // brother of mine, jun miresa // wild geese, mary oliver // lost in my mind, the head and the heart
[image id: 9 screenshots of text on white backgrounds. 1: "[chorus] our mother has been absent ever since we founded rome / but there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home" 2: "ORESTES: how could you recognize me after all these years? / ELEKTRA: what a stupid question. i was born knowing you." 3: "we can never go back. i know that now. we can go forward. we can find the love our hearts long for, but not until we go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart's longing." 4: "you realize, at last, that you can change without disappearing, that all you had to do was wait until the storm passes over you and you find that--yes--your name is still attached to a living thing." 5: "he said it was better to belong where you don't belong than not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there." 6: "we ain't angry at you, love / you're the greatest thing we've lost / the birds will still sing / your folks will still fight / the boards will still creak / the leaves will still die" 7: "oh brother of mine, we're no longer alike / though you're still the same dear brother of mine" 8: "you do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles in the desert repenting. / you only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine. / meanwhile the world goes on." 9: "won't you tell me, my brother? / 'cause there are stars up above / we can start moving forward." /end ID]
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I feel like I should be panicking more. My rent is due in one week, my landlord isn't friendly, and I have no one to ask for help. And yet? I have an eerie sense of calm about it.
I know the calm that happens when you are not actually calm but panicking and your body is helping you survive. This isn't that kind of fake calm. I am sleeping at night. I'm not snaping at my kids. I am *at peace.*
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(Read more for musings about the economy, my spiritual mindset in the midst of it all, and some Mary Oliver poetry.)
Five years ago? I would be panicking and staying up late working long hours and burning myself out. But now? These days I'm working full days, then stepping back and cooking meals or working on projects for my kids. It feels more stable this time. I feel like I've matured.
I got a report in my email yesterday which showed that retail sales in January plunged 0.8% from December, far worse than the consensus forecast for a decline of just 0.2%, and the largest monthly loss since March 2023. On the one hand, it made me feel better that it's not just me. On the other hand, it sucks that lots of other people are struggling, as well.
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Still, I make the time to meditate every morning. Still, I pull out my poetry books and take my life advice from Mary Oliver. In the poem One or Two Things she wrote:
One or two things are all you need to travel over the blue pond, over the deep roughage of trees and through the stiff flowers of lightning--some deep memory of pleasure, some cutting knowledge of pain.
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You don't need to have all the answers. You just need to put one step in front of the other.
Last year when I launched my wholesale business, I drummed up over 1000 leads. I'd pick a city and use google maps or yelp to search for gift shops, stationary stores, coffee shops... anywhere that I thought might want my work... and I took the time to write a personal note to each and every one of these businesses. This month I decided to check back in with them again, and so many of the businesses are now closed or their email addresses no longer work.
Having exhausted these leads, I sat at my computer yesterday with the knowledge that I needed to wait on people to get back to me, that the wholesale leads were out of my hands. And that I still did not have money to pay my landlord. Not once did I fear I would join the list of closed businesses. I did not despair.
Instead, I turned to my first joy. I went back to the sales history on my website and found my very first customers from back in 2016 when I launched my web shop. I emailed them, each of those first customers, sending personal emails. I did not ask them to buy anything. That wasn't what I needed. I asked how they were, what they have been up to, where their lives have taken them.
I was searching for that deep memory of pleasure, that cutting knowledge of pain. One or two things is all we need, after all.
And I got one email back.
This woman was the first person to ever buy an art print in my online shop--a honeybee boy painting--and it is still hanging in her stepson's room, nearly 8 years later. She shared pictures of her new baby, and I shared the pictures with my kids. This woman had sent me many emails over the years, asking for life advice or encouraging me on a hard day. She shared that she didn't realize her emails had made such an impact on me.
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Funny how none of us truly sees how impactful we are to those around us. Funny how life keeps going on, whether we worry about it or not.
In One or Two Things, Mary Oliver also wrote:
For years and years I struggled just to love my life. And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind. "Don't love your life too much," it said, and vanished into the world.
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I want my character to be defined not by what I do when things are easy but by how I carry myself when things are hard. And I do believe things happen for a reason. Maybe the line between delusion and faith is very thin, but the universe has shown me time and again that it's had my back. I've been in worse scrapes and still came out ok.
If you've read this far and you want to help me get through the next week, you can buy something from my shop or support me on Patreon.
And if you've read this far but you are in a similar boat, don't fret. We will find our way through the fires. one. step. at. a. time.
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melodrangea · 5 months
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can we have nicknames soul eater girls calling their s/o? Pls
absolutely my dear anon
Soul Eater girls don't get NEARLY enough love!
i'm also so sorry requests are taking so long my loves, but I am back in the writing groove and will try to clear my inbox this weekend!
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What Soul Eater Girls call their S/O
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Maka Albarn
-Maka is another character that I fell wouldn't really use many pet names until she's older, at least into her twenties
-but when she does use nicknames they're either very classy or short and easy
babe
-just something quick, she'll be in a rush out the door and just kiss you on the cheek saying goodbye
"bye babe, I have to go but I'll see you when I get home, love you!"
hon
-Maka's definitely relaxed, sitting by the couch in one of your sweaters and a thick blanket, famous chopping book in hand
-you'd hand her a cup of tea and cuddle up next to her
she's respond with a "thank you hon"
honey
-she'll usually only call you this when she feels guilty (normally about being gone long on missions) or when she knows you've had a tough day
"how are you doing honey? __ said you weren't feeling well" :(
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Tsubaki Nakatsukasa
THIS girlie on the other hand would absoluetly adore giving you pet names
n/n
-fairly self explanatory but usually in front of people she doesn't know she'll call you by a short (cuter) version of your name
-you're just her adorable little s/o and you WILL be addressed accordingly
love
-used just as casually as anything else she'll ever say to you
-which never fails to make you extremely flustered in certain situations
"which movie did we leave off on love?"
beautiful
-this one is used more intimately
-a special occasion or something else, whatever she's doing she'll just turn to you and stare into your eyes
"I love you so much beautiful"
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Liz Thompson
this cocky bitch (I'm lying I love her sm)
cutie
will probably be flirting with you or just trying to fluster you in general
"hey cutie you feel like going out sometime?" (you guys have been together for months too)
babe
again YOUR NAME DOES NOT EXIST
babe is essentially Liz's every other word talking to you
"babe are we still going out later? I still have to do my nails"
baby
calls you this when she's being more serious
"baby be careful, I don't want you getting hurt." "I love you too baby." "It'll be okay baby, just breathe."
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Patty Thomspon
-I'm not gonna lie to y'all...
-pookie (pookie bear)
-she can and would, and ya'll know she would
"hey pookie! Are you ready yet???"
-like miss girl PATIENCE
scardey cat
-Patty gets into some crazy stuff because she just feels no fear
-so you being a normal person (no Patty we don't want to go into the haunted amusement park that's falling apart)
"c'monnn don't be a scardey cat, I'm sure the ghosts are friendly!" (cue Liz running away screaming)
n/n
-only normal thing Patty will ever call you
-would probably add 'chan' to the end of your name or nickname
-I love Patty but she's like a middle school boy hyped up on kool-aid with a recorder I'M SORRY
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Marie
honey-bun
-it's only cute when she says it and she can and will call you honey-bun whenever she pleases!
"aw thank you honey-bun, I love you too!"
-you are her honey-bun now, just accept it
sweetheart
-makes you two sound like an old married couple and you love it
-you two will be cooking together and she'll ask you to hand her something
"do you mind passing me the olive oil sweetheart?"
dear/dearest
-y'all are the definition of an old married couple i'm sobbing
-she'll offhandedly tell you how much she loves you while calling you dearest
"I love you so much dearest, you truly mean so much to me"
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I love these four sm I swear
but anyways that's all for now my dears!
I'm here for your literary entertainment, I respond to requests as quickly as I can
-Melodrangea <3
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apollos-olives · 5 months
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as I am sad and sick I would like to hear some nice things. Is there any Palestinian flora/fauna you wish everyone could see?
(Personally I'm a biiiiiig fan of the cedars as a tree lover, but I've never been fortunate enough to see one in person 😭 cedrus libani... I will visit you one day...)
i hope you feel better soon!!
i don't know much about flowers in general but palestinians are very big on fruits. most palestinians grow a few fruit trees around their houses, and if they own some acres then they often have stuff like olive trees or palm trees. whenever you go to a downtown of a city, you can usually find stands upon stands of fresh fruits and flowers and whatnot. we're really also into nuts, and we spice and season nuts as a snack as well.
my grandpa has a small house in jericho, and he grows many trees of fruits around his home. he mostly grows figs, which are usually ripe when we come over so we can pick them right off the tree and eat it there. he also grows tiny oranges (?), about the size of a curled up pinky i think. you can usually pick them off the tree or bush and pop the whole thing in your mouth, even with the peel. it's kinda tart and i didn't like it very much, with it's textures and whatnot. i don't actually know if it's an orange, but it's definitely some sort of citrus. my dad said it might be called "kumquats" in english, but i just now got off the phone with my family in nablus and they said they called it "chinese oranges" in arabic lol. no one really knows what they're called but that's something that is easily grown around.
we have a LOT of palm trees, and usually if you're driving around the area you can come across many fields of palm trees and find dates. you can eat them before they're "ripe", when they're more round and yellow, and they're very sweet and delicious. in jericho, up on the mountain of the temple, you can look down on the city and see very long fields of dates being harvested. usually their harvesting season is around august/september (which means jesus would've been born in the summer since mary ate ripe dates when she birthed jesus lol), so if you go during the summer (by the way. jericho is BOILING during the summer. lowest place on earth, boiling hot. our car engine fucking MELTED WHILE WE WERE DRIVING) then you can find some really good fresh dates being served.
we just really love our fruits
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paladinbaby · 9 months
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the hunter & the rabbit
robot rebellion, emily axford / true blue, boy genius / the wee free men, terry pratchett / the house on the cerulean sea, tj klune / i worried, mary oliver / @curseworm / wild geese, mary oliver / @romanceyourdemons / lucy dacus on her song christine / why be happy when you could be normal, jeanette winterson
[Image Description: Ten images of text, mostly black on a white background except the last which is a photo of a book page in low light. The images alternate being one or two to a row.
1: “we can run, we can run, we can run / and it’ll be a race, just you and me / cause they can’t keep up with their metal feet / we can hide, we can hide, we can hide / and you can build a fire in a cave / and i can conjure shadows for a play
cause i am not afraid to die / long as you’re here by my side”
2: “Because it doesn’t matter anymore / Who won the fight? / I don’t know, we’re not keeping score / And it feels good to be known so well”
3: “He said it was better to belong where you don’t belong that not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there.”
4: “When something is broken, you can put it back together. It may not fit quite the same, or work like it did once before, but that doesn’t mean it’s no longer useful.”
5: “Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, / can I do better?”
6: “im extremely devout but nobody can figure out what im worshipping”
7: “You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile the world goes on.”
8: “i love when a character has something terrible happen to them and as a result they can only see themself as, essentially if not literally, a ghost. and so that means they only can (and have to) do what ghosts do, ie get revenge and then cease to exist. easy as that. but then halfway through this ghost vengeance they realise hey actually i might still be a human person. with human needs. that’s incredibly inconvenient, considering how much i’ve invested in this whole ghost thing”
9: “She was dating this guy who at the time was just not treating her right, and I played her the song. I was like, ‘I just want you to hear this once. I’ll put it away, but you should know that I would not support you if you get married. I don’t think this is the best you could do.’ She took it to heart, but she didn’t actually break up with the guy. They’re still together and he’s changed and I don’t feel that way anymore. I feel they’re in better place, but at the time it felt very urgent to me that she get out of that situation.”
10: “I was hurt. / It is never too late to learn to love. / But it is frightening.” End ID.]
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quietlyimplode · 9 months
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Black Widow Fest - Day Five
Wild Geese (cruelty is easy)
Warnings: death of widows, implied (not graphic) torture, Natasha in the Red Room.
Word Count: 2154
Pairing: Black Widows, Widows, Natasha-centric (Clint/Nat implied)
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Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. - Mary Oliver. Wild Geese.
Head warnings. This is not a happy fic, words in their essence are something that can be so benign but can have ripple effects. Words said in grief, anger, pain, can have lasting impacts in ways we don’t know. Be careful with your words, you’ll never know how they may ricochet. Take care friends. <3
Cruelty is easy. You’re not special for choosing it.
1/
Chains around her wrists, toes barely touching the floor, the woman spits at the Widow.
“Why do you hold your secrets, when you could so easily just tell me? Where is your husband?”
Blood on her chin, still the woman snarls.
Like a rabid dog, she drools and snaps when the Widow comes close.
“You’re going to die here anyway, why not make your last hours easier?”
The woman, dehydrated, delirious, laughs.
“Cruelty is easy. You’re not special for choosing it.”
It give the widow pause.
The woman laughs again.
“You’re not special at all. Just a cog in the machine. Doing someone else’s bidding. How does it feel to be the puppet?”
She sighs, spits, and leans heavily on the chains.
“So kill me, because I don’t know what you want to hear. My husband is nowhere. He’s everywhere. He’s in Malta, Dubrovnik. He’s in the Maldives, in Sri Lanka or…”
The gun shot to her head silences her and the body falls heavily against the chains, it’s weight now dead as there’s steady blood flow from the the wound.
.
2/
Natasha watches the older widow as she instructs the anatomy class.
Blood flow, large veins, nerves. It’s fascinating the way that the human body works. Out of all the things that Natasha learns, she finds this the most interesting.
The Red Room teaches them these things for the use of information extraction, for field medicine and to show them that they are not immortal.
Even though they think that they are.
They’re drilled daily, and it becomes Natasha’s favourite.
The older widow seems to see it, her love of learning and how she absorbs the information.
After class, she asks the Widow to teach her about cranial nerves, how they can bring pain. How it can impact on thinking.
The widow pauses and takes Natasha’s hand.
Touch is always a strange sensation.
She craves it and strays away from it.
This time, the touch is insistent.
The words are said urgently, whispered as though a secret in shame.
“Cruelty is easy, Natasha. You are not special for choosing it. Kindness, grace and patience, sometimes those are things that matter more in the moment.”
Abruptly, she lets her hand go, and stands.
“We will learn more on the cranial nerves over the next week.”
She hands Natasha a book.
“Read this. And write me a essay on how you would provide the field medicine in case study, 600 words by tomorrow.”
The book is heavy, but it’s the words that were spoken in secret that run in repetition in Natasha’s head.
‘Cruelty is easy.”
She wonders if it’s a challenge, if she’s suppose to learn to extract information in other ways. Through words rather than pain.
She walks out of the room, wondering just how that would work.
.
3/
Georgia stares at Natasha.
“So what, like the whores of Odessa, you want to go in me what? Ask them for the information?”
Natasha feels the fear flow through her.
She stands straighter, hardens her face and nods.
“They’re going to invite us in graciously. They’re going to tell us everything we want to know and we’ll be done in less than 2 hours.”
She pauses.
“Unless you want to follow the mission parameter, take the man and his daughter and torture them both to see who breaks first.”
She knows Georgia is not smart enough to understand what she is going for. That she can show them that she can do things in a creative way.
She doesn’t like torture. It’s messy and gives her a feeling in her gut that doesn’t go away for days. The images replay in her mind.
But she can’t tell anyone that.
Georgia shrugs.
“Okay. But if we die for this Natalia, I’m going to kill your in the afterlife.”
Natasha bristles at the nickname and passes an easy smile.
“I’ll get the blame, just follow my lead, okay?”
Natasha stands, folds money in her hand and smiles.
The door knock is met with a crack of an opening and a girl, no older than twelve peeks around the corner.
“Hello?”
“Hi hun, I’m Irina and this is Svetlana, we are here to see your mum, is she home?”
The girls eyes widen, and sadness fills them.
“Um. No, she’s not.”
Natasha knows well that the woman is dead.
“Oh, okay, can you leave a message for us?”
The door opens wider.
The girl more trusting now.
“My dadda’s home,” she starts, “I can get him, if you want?”
Natasha smiles, “oh sure, that would be great.”
The girl leaves them standing at the door and Georgia moves nervously from foot to foot.
“Are you sure about this, Natalia?”
Natasha reaches behind her and squeezes her hand in reassurance.
“Hello?”
The bearded man appears, his face drawn and tired.
“Hello!” Natasha says brightly.
“Alina gave us this address when we last met up, she said to come visit if ever we were in Vladivostok.”
The man frowns.
“We went to school together.”
Natasha is betting hard that the man will remember his wife’s ramblings of her childhood friends, but not their faces.
“Oh,” he nods.
“Irina and Svetlana,” the girl says, helpfully, as though she knows.
“Oh,” the man says again.
“She’s dead.”
The words are heavy and the girl retreats behind her father as if the words won’t find her there.
Natasha schools her face into one of grief, like the woman wasn’t killed at the hands of the KGB in partnership of the Red Room.
“Oh,” she echos, “how? When?”
The man opens the door wider, and invites them in.
The follow the couple into the kitchen, where the girl starts to make some tea, taking the role that her mother must have left.
The man sits, offering chairs to the Widows as they’re offered tea.
“It is perhaps a long story,” he opens, looking to his daughter.
Natasha is quick.
“And I want no pain in reopening a wound.”
She pauses.
“She was my friend. She was kind and honest and dear to us.”
She sighs dramatically, and rests her head in her hands, Georgia taking the cue to offer comfort.
“Is there anything we can do?”
The girl sets down the tea, and they wrap their hands around it.
She looks small amongst the big table, and squeaks a response.
“What was my mother like when she was young?”
Natasha lies with the truth.
The words woven and soon the man is drunk.
The little girl tired and secrets spilled without his knowledge.
They help the girl put her father to bed, and she gratefully thanks them, offering them her meagre stash of lollies.
Natasha declines, but Georgia takes four, then closes the girl’s hand around the rest.
“Thank you,” the little girl says, spontaneously hugging them both.
They hug her back, and leave the way they came, no one worse for the meeting.
“That was more exhausting, Nat.”
Georgia tells her, getting into their car.
“But no bad dreams,” Natasha sighs, leaning back.
Georgia snorts.
“No, no bad dreams.”
The getaway is smooth and smell of sweets emanate.
“Do you think they’ll punish us for going off mission?”
Natasha shakes her head.
“Given the information we just gathered, and the relationships we made, no, I don’t think they will.”
“You tell them then.”
“Mm,” Natasha nods, non committal to the instruction.
“Why?”
Georgia hands over two hard lollies and Natasha takes them both, wrapping them and revelling in the sweetness.
“Cruelty is easy, we aren’t special for choosing it.”
Georgia doesn’t say anything but seems to ruminate on her words.
“Where’d you learn that?”
“Madam Simzar,” Natasha chooses to disclose.
Georgia smiles.
“I miss her.”
Natasha ducks her head, unable to keep the pain off her face.
“Me too.”
.
4/
Natasha exits Fury’s office.
Making a bee line for the door, she brushes quickly past Clint and disappears.
Clearly not good news then.
He follows her to find her gone, disappeared in a matter of seconds.
He wonders where she could have gone, and walks quickly to the library hoping to catch a glimpse of her hair.
She’s not there, and she doesn’t appear to be anywhere. He swears under his breath before returning back to Fury’s office, hoping for some insight into what made her run.
He thought they might have been passed this, but, he supposes, Natasha’s go to self preservation will always be to hide her feelings, conceal her grief, hurt and sadness.
He feels that’s what this is, judging the way she wouldn’t even make eye contact as she brushed past.
“What happened?”
He’s not usually so abrupt with his boss, but he needs to know whether in this moment, Natasha needs help.
No time for pleasantries.
“A widow Natasha defected, overdosed.”
Fury’s words are flat.
The pictures he passes over shows the graphic image of a woman overdosed.
Clint feels sick.
The could be Natasha.
He knows at once where she’s gone, and leaves the room without another word.
.
The park is quiet.
Big dark clouds ruminate overhead, and he wraps his jacket around himself tighter against the cold.
The playground is dead, just as he assumed it would be, the children home and getting ready for night time routines.
He’s glad.
They used to come here and swing on the swings when Natasha needed to get away from herself. The rocking motion seemingly soothing.
Clint finds her exactly where he expects to.
The swing next to her inviting for him as he sits down and says nothing.
They stay in stasis, swinging slowly.
“Her name was Georgia.”
Natasha rests her head on the swing lengths, and swallows.
She wants to tell him about her, but the grief is too much. A tear slips out, and she hastily wipes it away.
“Cruelty to yourself is easy, Clint,” she says tiredly.
Clint looks at her, really looks and notices the slip of blood in her hand, clutching the small pairing knife.
“I’m not special for choosing it,” the words said in a whisper.
She hands him the knife, unwrapping her hand from around it.
“It’s harder to be kind.”
He pauses, the knife gone as soon as he touches it.
“I’ve heard you say it before.”
He didn’t feel how dangerous losing a widow might be for her. Certainly didn’t expect the knife.
He wants to know how safe she is, how she won’t be the dead girl, overdosed.
“Is it a reminder?”
She looks at him, shrugs, nods.
“Cruelty is easy,” she whispers.
Natasha pauses at the statement, aware she’s just repeating herself, the words though; they seem important.
The mission they went on, replaying in her mind, with Georgia smiling in the car.
“Georgia was a friend,” she looks to Clint. “One of a select few, and her passing feels personal.”
“She was a widow?”
Clint knows but asks anyway.
“Yes.”
Natasha starts swinging, slow movements, dragging her feet on the ground.
“Was she…”
Clint doesn’t really know what he’s asking.
“Free?”
She finishes the thought anyway.
“Yes. No. Are any of us ever free of that place?”
Clint doesn’t know how to answer.
“Drugs.”
Natasha pauses.
“She wasn’t kind to herself.”
“She felt the need to be cruel.”
Clint starts swinging too, feeling the heaviness of the night pressing down. He wonders just how much and how close Natasha was to this girl when they were young.
“To herself?” he wonders.
“Yes.”
She’s hastily wipes at her face again.
“But you aren’t.”
He says it as a statement and hopes that it’s true.
“Sometimes I am.”
Natasha pauses. Thinks.
“I beat myself up with my thoughts. But I’m better at recognising it. Stopping it when it comes.”
The introspection is not lost on Clint. It’s taken years for them both to realize when their thinking patterns have not been… optimal.
“She was not.”
He cringes at the past tense, the death fresh.
“No.”
She drags her feet.
“She was not.”
Clint’s not really sure what to say. He wants to hug her but knows it’s not appropriate.
“I’m sorry she let you down,” he opts for, pushing back and forward on his toes.
Natasha shrugs, slowing her movements.
“She didn’t let me down, her actions have nothing to do with me.”
There’s a pause, as Clint is at a loss for words, not used to Natasha’s nonchalance at the death of her friend, or wonders if she’s just masking her grief.
“It’s a reminder,” she continues.
“I choose to be kind.”
She says it with a strength, even as her voice wobbles.
“Cruelty is easy, to others, to yourself.”
Clint nods, pushes off a little more heavily.
“Yeah. It is,” he agrees.
He slows with his feet and then repeats the process.
“You are kind, Natasha,” he tells her.
But it’s met with silence as night covers them in darkness.
.
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arcanespillo · 6 months
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it says that ur into poetry in ur bio and thats so cool!!! i like poetry as well and am taking it as an elective at uni but i am actually not too good with poets so was wondering if you had any favourite poets? if not thats totally fine. maybe poetry recs? thanks ☆
poems
i'm not the river / nox by anne carson is tricky to find but there's a fragment here / PORTRAIT OF THE ALCOHOLIC WITH WITHDRAWAL / A BOY STEPS INTO THE WATER / SOME BOYS AREN’T BORN THEY BUBBLE / Thirstiness is Not Equal Division / EVERYTHING THAT MOVES IS ALIVE AND A THREAT–A REMINDER / A Man Said to the Universe / The Worm King’s Lullaby / Cortège / the triumph of achilles by louise gluck / the reticent volcano keeps by emily dickinson / the mirror by louise gluck / i go down the shore / the arrowhead / Brother / My Brother at 3 A.M / I would I might forget that I am I / the second elegy / stripped car / The Saints Come Marching In by Anne Sexton, How to Be a Dog by Andrew Kane, Angel of Hope and Calendars by Anne Sexton / I Remember / WHAT THE BIRD WITH THE HUMAN HEAD KNEW / THE TRUTH THE DEAD KNOW / In The Deep Museum / Lament / The Starry Night / A Curse Against Elegies / jesus suckles / start here / march is march / a bad day by mary oliver / Portrait of the Illness as Nightmare / lord knows / Town of Finding Out About the Love of God / fragments from Avalon Revisited (1963) by Margaret Atwood / from crush by richard siken 'the torn up road', from war of the foxes 'landscape with fruit rot and millipede', 'birds over the trampled field', 'the museum', 'self portrait against red wallpaper'/ from louise gluck's the wild iris 'clear morning' 'spring snow' 'scilla' 'the hawthorn tree' 'april' 'the jacob's ladder' 'matins' 'song' 'vespers' 'harvest' 'retreating light' 'lullaby' 'the gold lily' / from her vita nova 'the open grave' 'roman study' 'timor mortis' 'castile' 'mutable earth' 'inferno' / from faithful and virtuous night 'aboriginal landscape' 'utopia' 'the melancholy assistant' 'a foreshortened journey' 'the horse and the rider' / from meadowlands 'parable of the king' 'moonless night' 'departure' 'rainy morning' 'telemachus' guilt' 'meadowlands I' 'telemachus' kindness' 'parable of the dove' 'purple bathing suit' / from firstborn 'the cripple in the subway' 'seconds' 'letter from provence' 'firstborn' / from the house on marshland 'the pond' 'gratitude' 'abishag' 'the fire' / from descending figure 'the garden (2)' 'origins (4)' 'thanksgiving', from the triumph of achilles 'exile' 'seated figure' 'liberation' 'adult grief' 'horse'/ apostle town / the town of the sound of a twig breaking / strawberry moon by matthew dickman / the wolf god / this poem by mark bibbins (another year on the day/ of class photos/ i scratched at my face/ with a sharpened popsicle stick/ no blood just a few pink lines/ that didn't read/ what else./ i wanted a cast on my leg/i wanted braces and glasses/and my tonsils out/i wanted scars/i don't know when or whether i figured out the difference between wanting to be damaged and wanting to be healed) / ancient text by louise gluck
books
short talks by anne carson, waiting for god by simone weil, blue horses by mary oliver, dog songs poems by mary oliver, men in the off hours by anne carson, trances of the blast by mary ruefle, autobiography of red, red doc and norma jeane baker of troy by anne carson, richard siken and ocean vuong's books are famous honestly but try to read their stuff if you haven't checked them out yet (i don't like ocean vuong but i did like some bits of his first book) and also i suggest reading 'the journal of albion moonlight' if you find yourself particularly liking red doc, i hope you were not expecting old poetry because that really isn't really in my ropes
this is what i have noted on my journal :p if you can't find some stuff dm me but you can search for most poetry books on archive.org and it's free and legal
+ poems by Margaret Atwood ! i forgot, like this one
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brighter-by-the-daly · 9 months
Text
Rachel Daly x Reader
Part Three: Dashed Hopes
You loved bunking with Mary, she was always so full of life - dragging you into TikToks one after the other, playing pranks and joking around; she didn’t realise she was giving you so much confidence the more you hung out with her. Laying on your beds she was busy editing your latest dance when Rachel knocked on the door. Rolling over to face the window so you didn’t have to look at her she showed Mary something on her phone “I thought we could do this?” she asked quietly “oh me and (y/n) just recorded this one soz” her voice a little blunt but Mary was often like that so you didn’t know if it was intentional or not. “Ah, okay” Rachel replied sounding disappointed as she left the room. The atmosphere was nothing like what was portrayed on their accounts last tournament but I suppose she only has herself to blame for that. Everyone on the team knew by now what she had done and they all sided with you, she wasn’t outkast but there was definitely an eerie atmosphere around camp whenever she was in the room. You tried really hard not to feel guilty, if you hadn’t of told people what really happened then you would be miserable and living a lie, watching her live her best life while pretending you broke up with her and that wouldn’t have been fair on you.
Sitting with the other newbies at dinner one evening you chatted about your experience so far. Ebony had been called up to replace an injury and had had your back since Rachel left, she was your best friend in Houston and knew every gorey detail of your break up. Having her on the team made you feel a whole lot more settled and knowing for sure that someone had your back 100%. Ebony scoffed as the defender come striker approached your table and asked if you can try and get on for the sake of the team. She had tried to talk to you in the past few days but you were still too angry to give her the time of day, Rachel nodded understandably and walked away to sit by herself to eat dinner. You couldn’t help the guilt rising and decided to approach her, rolling your eyes at your own conscience making you a push over. “Look, this is my first senior call up and I’m gonna do what I need to do to cement my place on this team. I’m not gonna let you ruin this for me so I’ll be civil but I’m not gonna pretend I like you.” Rachel nodded and put her hands up like she accepted the very tiny olive branch you were offering.
Another day of training you were paired together, someone clearly thought you needed to work with each other which you guess is a feasible assumption. Hitting each other with the pads was quite therapeutic until he sleeve rose up uncovering your matching tattoo still in full view on her arm. You’d had yours covered a week after she left with the Houston H hand sign. “Thought you would have covered that by now” you said pointing at the Roman numerals of your Dash shirt number. Rachel shook her head “my tattoos are my story and you’re part of it whether you like it or not” she shrugged. Bit of a weird reply but you didn’t argue. “I bet Becky loves that!” you said in jest. “She doesn’t know what it’s for” she shrugged again, clearly not enjoying this interaction. You didn’t know that she had booked to get it covered but couldn’t go through with it before camp, Jordan informed you of this later in the day when you mentioned it.
During all the training sessions before the tournament started you did what you were told to do and kept your head down, whatever you were doing was impressing the boss as you worked your way into the starting line up and into Rachel’s usual position. She was benched. It was like the ultimate karma and it felt amazing but it became routine at the 70 minute mark for her to replace you as a super sub. Game after game she was chasing after you for lead goal scorer, trying desperately to prove her worth to Sarina and the team. As soon as she caught up with you, the next game came around and you ploughed through the rankings again. Managing your first hattrick in the Group 16 game you proudly walked away with the match ball; Sarina had allowed you to play all 90 minutes and Rachel came on to replace Russo this time and assisted your last goal. She didn’t mean to, she went for goal but you got in the way and made it yours. Sneaky behaviour but it’s all team work until it came to her - she wasn’t about to take away your last chance of a hattrick! Walking around the field with the team to clap the travelling fans you borrowed a sharpie from one of them and made your way around the squad asking them to sign your ball. There was one signature left to get and you can guess who it was!
Slowing down your pace to catch Rachel at the back of the group with Millie who walked off as she watched you approach. “Can you sign this please?” throwing her the ball and sharpie. “I don’t think I should, you stole my goal” she said with a forced smile, “I think it’s a fair trade - you stole my wedding, I steal your goal” you shrugged with a cheeky smile. Rachel laughed and agreed with you, “in fact, I think you owe me a few more” you nudged her gently. “Don’t get cocky now!” she said with seriousness. “Far too late for that, I’m going for golden boot!” catching the ball she threw back at you with her scribble on. “Yeah? Well I’m gonna give you a run for your money!” she grabbed your shoulders from behind. “I’m not threatened by you old lady, enjoy your last World Cup yeah” turning around you winked before jogging off backwards, making the ‘I’m watching you’ sign as you went and revelling in the fact you have so many more tournaments to look forward to while her time is nearly up.
Part Four
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xenaforevermore · 6 months
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October 1 There's this shape, black as the entrance to a cave. A longing wells up in its throat like a blossom as it breathes slowly. What does the world mean to you if you can't trust it to go on shining when you're not there? And there's a tree, long-fallen; once the bees flew to it, like a procession of messengers, and filled it with honey. 2 I said to the chickadee, singing his heart out in the green pine tree: little dazzler, little song, little mouthful. 3 The shape climbs up out of the curled grass. It grunts into view. There is no measure for the confidence at the bottom of its eyes— there is no telling the suppleness of its shoulders as it turns and yawns. Near the fallen tree something—a leaf snapped loose from the branch and fluttering down—tries to pull me into its trap of attention. 4 It pulls me into its trap of attention. And when I turn again, the bear is gone. 5 Look, hasn't my body already felt like the body of a flower? 6 Look, I want to love this world as though it's the last chance I'm ever going to get to be alive and know it. 7 Sometimes in late summer I won't touch anything, not the flowers, not the blackberries brimming in the thickets; I won't drink from the pond; I won't name the birds or the trees; I won't whisper my own name. One morning the fox came down the hill, glittering and confident, and didn't see me—and I thought: so this is the world. I'm not in it. It is beautiful. -Mary Oliver
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Arthur Morgan Modern Headcannons pt2
Okokok
PART ONE HERE KINDA IMPORTANT TO READ FIRST
Everyone loved the modern headcannons and wanted to have some modern wedding headcannons 
As well as some more arthur on the bike wink wonk
So
we’re gonna combine the two, and start with the wedding and work in some of the bike!
Oh and @photo1030​ suggested Arthur on a more vintage looking Indian Motorcycle rather than a Harley, so I’ll leave an image of both and write for both! 
A LITTLE NSFW SO 18+ ONLY
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Okay
So after Arthur has asked you to marry him because of course he did
You two set away at making wedding plans almost immediately
You more than him
not that he isn’t excited to marry you because of course he is
but because he isn’t exactly into big party’s
he’d be willing to just get married with his family, your family, and one officiator.
But he knows you’ll want something a little more extravagant.
So he let’s you do whatever it is you’d like to do for it
You want to do a color scheme? He knows you won’t make him look like a total fool
you want a specific kind of food there?
He’s not picky he’ll eat anything you put on his plate
it’s the same with the cake, it can look any way you want
he’s absolutely there to accept any and all plans you make
of course he’ll help with certain things but he’s given you free reign
Like I said
it’s not that he’s not excited for your wedding
quite the opposite 
he mentions to you just how excited he is for it every morning he wakes up with you
He mentions ‘we’ve got X amount of days until you’re Mrs./Mr. Morgan’ and then the rest of the day you have a smile on your face.
He helps pick the location, obviously
He wants to do it on Dutch’s ranch, there’s plenty of space there to set up a venue, and you debate it over a night but then realize it’s probably best for the two of you.
It’s close to family and Arthur would love to be closer to family rather than somewhere he doesn’t know, and you know that.
Plus there’s a beautiful apple orchard that Hosea’s started there 
that you think would be fantastic to put the alter at
You invite your family, your friends and the entirety of Arthur’s family and all is set up sooner than you think
Of course you make the color scheme your favorite color and white, or black if that’s more your style
(Myself it’s olive green and white, that’s what I’d like to have whenever my actual wedding happens, if it happens lmao)
which means whatever your favorite color is, is the color of Arthur’s tie, or his tux with a black tie, depends on the route you decide to go
 (Like for me, an olive green suit with a black or white tie, I think it’d look fantastic) 
Your dress is the same way! 
(AND OR SUIT YOU WOULD MATCH WITH HIM OMG THAT’D BE SO CUTE OMG WHAT IF YOU WERE OPPOSITE? SO GREEN TIE AND BLACK SUIT) 
(A mostly white dress with olive green accents for me I swear these are just to try and give you an idea of what I mean but also shut it I can dream too)
The decorations match the color scheme and Abigail does a lot of it, she kinda takes over and decides that she is gonna be your wedding planner.
Jack is OBVIOUSLY the flower boy
The song Arthur proposed with 
This one btw
Is the one you two have your first dance to
The song that plays as your maid of honor and bridesmaids walk down the aisle with the groomsmen with is 
This one here
and then obviously the traditional wedding march as you walk down the aisle, but with a little bit of a southern twang to it, played on an acoustic guitar. 
Your bridesmaids and Maids of honor are either your closest friends (Any you can think of!) 
or
Your closest friends from Arthur’s family!
Mary-Beth, Tilly, Karen, Molly, Susan, and Abigail of course! 
Who is your Maid of Honor? 
Def Abigail, she helped do the entire wedding of course
and obviously John is Arthur’s Best man
It was a real toss up
it was between john and charles
but john won
because of that whole brotherly bond thing
The dj for the wedding is Sean because he insisted and if you didn’t he threatened to make you feel bad for the rest of your life for it.
The whole thing goes off without a hitch! 
Arthur is crying at the alter and pretending not to be
He sees you and just can’t stop himself you’re just too perfect and he’s sniffling and trying to wipe away the tears without it being too noticeable
That makes Abigail cry, which makes you cry, which makes John cry, and everyone is crying
Dutch is crying the loudest and Hosea is hitting him repeatedly to try and get him to shut up
When it comes time for the reception, food dancing and the like
everyone keeps calling you Mrs./Mr. Morgan and welcomes you to the Van Der Linde family without hesitation
Everyone dances happily, and gets drunk
Arthur gets drunk but for once its happy drunk, and not drinking because it’ll take his mind off things
He sings badly for you and the two of you 
Just have the time of your lives
the pictures you get taken for the wedding are sent to you about a month after and you swear you’d almost kiss Albert for how well they came out
Arthur looked so handsome and you PROMISED him that the photos would be treasured forever
You even set one of the digital copy ones as your lock screen because he looked so damn fine
Speaking of fine
Those motorcycles
He doesn’t ride them often but you complain to him to start doing it more because
GODDAMN
HOLY FUCK
YOU’D FUCK HIM ON THE BIKE IF YOU COULD
The vintage Indian Motorcycle is older and it takes a lot of repairs sometimes
He doesn’t take the bikes into the shop though
Mainly just because he’s got the tools at home to fix it 
So
On the days you aren’t at work you sit at home and watch him work on it
swearing under his breath
sweating and wiping oil on himself
Tossing things to the side and calling them names
Going from angry at the bike to nice the next second
“You fuckin’ bitch that’s my goddamn hand”
“Aw...start up for me, please?” 
Now, modern Arthur keeps his hair fairly short, faded at the sides and anywhere from a 2 to 3 level beard.
He’s got tats on his arms all the way to the shoulder, a sleeve, only on one arm though, the other has a few tats but not a sleeve
He’s got a chest tat, but its not huge
the one on his back is tho
You get to see them when he works on the bike because he gets hot and frustrated and tosses his tanktop to the side or ends up using it as a rag because the one he usually tucks in his waistband gets lost when he kicks pieces to the side
The back piece is a Buck, one of his favorite animals and his arm is an amalgamation of things
His favorite fire arms, which he uses as an excuse to say 
“What, you mean, these guns?” And then flex
He’s got just a bunch of things that mean a lot to him and also anything that he thinks looks good on him.
He’s got a feather tattooed on there somewhere from an eagle, (it’s matching with Charles)
In general he’s got wilderness things tattooed on him, mountains and trees and the like
The chest tattoo is small, but also a favorite firearm, one of the repeaters he likes
He’s got flowers mixed in too! A man can like flowers damnit!
When his bikes are fixed up
He’s 
GOD
he’s a hunk
He wears this tight fitting white shirt and these fantastic jeans with biker chaps and a leather jacket to match.
He wears his cowboy hat too, which of course you always warn him it’s gonna fall off when he’s riding but of course he remembers to tie it on with the straps he had you sew in
Like I said he usually keeps his cigarettes rolled up into his arm sleeve, that way he can reach them easy, and the sight of him smoking on a vintage bike 
WOO 
Look AT H IIM
He always smirks at you and says the PERFECT THINGS
He drops you off at work sometimes and when he does you know that means he’s gonna pick you up for a bike ride that evening 
When he pulls up to your work and kicks that kick stand out to wait for you to get on he’ll look at you, smirk with his cigarette between his lips and say
“C’mon Baby. You an’ me are gonna ride all damn night.”
JUST 
A H
He’s just so damn hot you don’t know what to do 
He takes you on long bike rides sometimes
on like
bike week? 
He’ll take the harley for those tho, cause it’s more reliable for the longer trips
and the two of you ride together
Sometimes he steers with one hand and puts the other on your thigh while he drives
It’s a little precarious because 
ya know
bike 
but he knows what he’s doing so you always feel safe
AND HORNY
He loves both of his bikes like 
LOVES
i mean
sometimes he talks to them and you’re like
“Honey, for the love of god, if you don’t say those exact words to me right now and fuck me in the hayloft you and I are going to have marital issues that I’m not sure we can fix.”
Cause he says with that stuPID voice of his
“That’s my Girl”
and 
“Good Girl..” 
Not only that but he’ll get mad when he’s fixing them (As previously mentioned) 
And say something like
“Goddamn it why can’t you just fuckin’ start for me you dirty whore?” 
“ARTHUR PLEASE I WILL START-” 
And let me tell you
after a ride on the bike he’s a little riled 
and the two of you go
HAM
Like 
DAMN
you go ham
GREAT HAM
When the two of you finish said hamming
You always make food because he’s sleeping
snoring his ass off in the adjacent bedroom, laying flat on his back with his arms spread eagle and a blanket just barely covering his unmentionables
His hair all tousled and a small sheen of sweat covering his body
he’ll eventually stumble out with boxers pulled on haphazardly 
It’s mostly because he smelled food, but also because you weren’t cuddling him and he’s a little bit of a baby.
You feed him, and sit there playing with his hair, which he LOVES
he thinks about growing it out a little longer because then there’s more for you to mess with but 
with him being a mechanic he doesn’t wanna risk it getting caught in some machine and ripping his scalp at all
So he keeps it short but he loves you messing with it all the same.
He makes you lunch btw
he isn’t the best at cooking but he’s pretty good
he makes you your favorite sandwiches and puts soup in a container for you and literally makes sure all your favorite snacks are in there for you
He packs it the night before while you’re reading in front of the fireplace and then he curls up with you on the couch
9 times out of 10 you have to wake him up and herd him into the bedroom where he immediately cuddles back up into you.
He is 
WONDERFUL
AND
HOT MAN
Who happens to also be
YOUR HUSBAND
Please
I’ll write so many more of these if it’s what pleases the people
just tell me
request them
ill sell my soul to write more
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bingejesus · 2 months
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Spoiler Review of S4 Episode One
Ok so I gave a non spoiler review of episodes 1-3 buuuut it is now time for the spoilers I will be tagging these so no one who does not want to see them will. If somehow, you are reading this part, please please please be aware that from this sentence forward there are spoilers for season four episode 1 of The Chosen. Ok? Ok.
Episode One:
Ok so literally episode one John the Baptist is martyred. And it is breathtakingly beautiful. The dancer who played Salome was phenomenal, I don’t think she had a single line, her whole thing was practicing and performing the dance which I feel like really shows how this was all Herodias’ idea and she was really just a pawn. At the same time, we flashback to young Mother Mary visiting Elizabeth and Zechariah, which was funny and sweet and so heartwarming. It really is odd to see a woman clearly in her 70s or even 80s pregnant but knowing the story it just made me so happy. We also see Joanna going to tell the disciples and Jesus about John. It’s all intercut between Zechariah’s prophecy about John as a baby, the party, Joanna, and the actual death of John. The scene of the execution is somehow beautiful even as we know something horrible is happening. As John is being led away, he quotes what Jesus had his disciples tell him, “The lame walk, the blind see, the dead are raised,” and he says, “The way of the Lord is prepared.” Which just sent shivers down my spine. We see the silver platter John’s head will be served on and the soldier says that usually it’s used for a wedding banquet to which John says, “I’ve never been to a wedding banquet, but I’m going to one.” Which again, I’m just sobbing at this point. Right as John is about to die, he looks out a window and sees a spotless lamb feeding outside, like a final sign that his mission is fulfilled. Obviously we don’t see a severed head, but the swing of the axe is just as impactful. We cut to Jesus by himself, as if already preparing for the news. When he is told, we see him mourn. Rip his clothes, and cover himself in dirt. It’s heartbreaking to say the least. Also, it is important to note that Ramah returns and everyone is gathering together. Then, we see Joanna arrive and tell Andrew, and then everyone else. The last thing we see is Jesus approaching the group, torn clothes, dirt on his face, looking…disillusioned? It’s hard to describe it. Almost like he’s been too emotionally exhausted to have a readable expression.
Another thing to note, was that Zebeddee and sons have the olive oil ready and are giving it to the local synagogue for ritual purposes. Yousef says it is to benefit local enterprise, but Rabbi Akira is skeptical. Tamar goes with them but is not allowed in the synagogues being both a woman and a Gentile, obviously upsetting her. (Big James offers to stay with her instead of going in!!!!!!! The ship is real!!!!!)
Oh and I just remembered that Salome did have a line and it was just to say, “Anything?” When Herod says he’ll give her anything after the dance.
The interweaving of baby John and John’s execution was beautifully done. I was sobbing. The moment Zechariah can speak again, he begins prophesying and we hear it over John being led in by the soldiers. I like that John seemed nervous (as obviously anyone would be) but he wasn’t necessarily scared. It was that last moment of seeing the lamb that made him smile just as he died. Oh wow like I said I was crying.
It’s also incredibly hard to watch Jesus cry. I expected it to be, but obviously being a Christian and a follower of Jesus makes it so much harder. Especially after the love and laughter we’ve seen him experience as well. They do not shy away from humanity and that is such a welcomed thing.
Episode One was expected, but still managed to be utterly brilliant in writing and storytelling. We all knew John’s death was coming and it was made into a realistically sorrowful but beautiful reality. I cannot wait until I have it at my fingertips to watch again and again.
So that was episode one. Episode two coming soon!
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venusonthemars · 2 years
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when anne carson said "i have longed for people before i have loved people before not like this it was not this give me a world you have taken the world i was" and when mary oliver said "lord god/ mercy is in your hands pour me a little/ and tenderness too/ my need is great" and when nicole callihan said "i closed my eyes/ and lay on top of you, swallowed you,/ let you swallow me too. and when/ you carried my body back to shore/ as i trusted that you would do/ well, then, you became shore too" and when louise gluck said "who wouldn't want you?/ whose most demonic appetite /could you possibly fail to answer?" and when frank o'hara said "what are you doing now/ where did you eat your/ lunch and were there/ lots of anchovies it/ is difficult to think/ of you without me in/ the sentence you depress/ me when you are alone" or something like that, you know?
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almost-a-class-act · 4 months
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mary oliver prompts you say???? if it tickles your fancy: no. 17 + (oh and this is gonna expose who i am so i don't need to sign this) pat/chuck?
17. And what does this have to do with love, except everything?
This is my first attempt at Pat. Can you believe? Lol. And I'm not saying that because it's great and you'll be blown away, I'm saying it because how did I miss him in my reign of terror in rarepair land. Anyway here we go!
--
Pat thinks about that day often, later, a brilliant blue sky with the Pacific on the horizon like a blot. A lot of Austria feels like that – a beautiful day with dread curled up at the very core of it. When they’d dispersed after the announcement, Chuck had nudged him, and Pat had automatically reoriented himself to fall into step next to him.
They’d lit cigarettes. They’re good at comfortable silences.
“How could this be worse?” Pat had asked, a well-worn game by then.
Chuck had hummed. “We could be going somewhere cold with no winter clothes.”
“We could be leaving right away.”
“We could,” Chuck had said, around a stream of cigarette smoke, “get hit by a freak meteor.”
“I said worse,” Pat had said, which had made Chuck grin, faintly. “Bright sides?”
“I’ve never been on a tropical vacation.”
Pat had shrugged. “We’re not racking up any more points over here.”
Chuck had laughed. “Grim. You win.”
When Pat sits next to Chuck’s hospital bed, in the longest silence that’s ever passed between them, it’s hard not to think about all of the silly, inconsequential shit he had said to Chuck in the last few days, like that, and wish he hadn’t said it. He knows Chuck wouldn’t – won’t – hold it against him, but it feels like he had perhaps issued a very specific challenge to a universe with a brutal sense of humour.
And he could’ve said something important, instead.
He could say it now, maybe, if he thought Chuck was listening. It’s hard to tell; he’s pale, his face swollen and exhausted, and the only thing that moves is his chest, gently rising and falling. Pat dips the cloth in the basin of warm water and instead of saying anything, he wipes clean the parts of Chuck’s head that still show what happened to him, his face and ears, the dried blood caught in what hair he has left. It stands on end, dirty, around the edges of the bandages, in a way that underlines more than anything that Chuck is not here – not in the way that matters. The surgeons had cleaned around the wound, but the rest hadn’t been a priority. Chuck would never have left it like this.
He hears the nurse approach, but doesn’t pause in his task. She steps around the bed, checking Chuck’s IV, the edges of his bandages. She doesn’t interfere with what Pat’s doing, and they exist in each other’s periphery for a moment. She’s older, her hair run through with grey, and something about her is steady in a way he appreciates. “You don’t have to do that, doll,” she says, at last.
“He’s proud of it,” Pat says. “His hair.” Half of it is gone, anyway, shaved away so that the surgeon could get in and save his life. He’s not sure how much of it will grow back, around that scar. But what’s left still matters. “I always think he looks like Cary Grant.”
“Really?” The nurse half-smiles. “I thought Clark Gable.”
Pat swallows down the thing in his throat the will rise up if he doesn’t keep a lid on it.
“Do you think he can hear me?” he asks. “If I talk to him?”
“I don’t know,” the nurse admits. “I don’t think it can hurt.”
After she’s gone, he gently dries Chuck’s hair with the tips of his fingers and a clean towel.
And maybe, in the quiet, he tries to say something important.
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A Garden Party Introduction
Balmoral, Scottish Highlands, Scotland
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Marie-Christine: Another, summer...another garden party Alexander: yup...last one before our break huh my love Hortense: Oliver...all of these people... Oliver: it is quite alright my love...we shall be making a b-line for my friends. They've been excited to meet you. Mama and Papa will be talking to guests
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Hortense: So your friends have wanted to meet me? Oliver: Of course! I will admit [sheepishly] I have done nothing but talk of you when I bring up Francesim....you were the best part of my time there Hortense: Oliver David Alexander James, you flatter me Callen: Ah, there are the happy couple!
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Oliver: Ah. Mo Gaol, you remember Lord Callen MacDonald. Callen: Your Imperial Highness, wonderful to see you again. Oliver: To his right is Lord Rhys MacPherson, one of my other friends since childhood Rhys: Your Imperial Highness.
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Oliver: To his right is his twin sister, Lady Evie MacPherson Evie: Hello Your Imperial Highness! Oliver: And to her right, is Mr. Ahmad Chambers...though soon we shall soon call you Lord Ahmad my dear friend! Ahmad: Hello Your Imperial Highness. And Your Royal Highness, you flatter me sir. I'd only wish such a title on the basis of my hard work, not my dear mum's. Hortense: Hello everyone...very pleased to meet all of you!
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Evie: It's an honor to meet you Ma'am really! Callen: Must we keep with the formalities? Oliver: Yes- Evie: Yes! His Royal Highness said we should ease Madame Hortense into the group...Francesim is a very different country Lord Callen...which you would know if you left the kingdom Callen: Oh here we go because- Evie: I did a study aboard semester in both Pierreland and Francesim...and they are both much more formal nations...not to mention the art!
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Callen: Well...I've gotten Evie started...apologies Madame...Evie can talk about art and paintings till she's blue in the face...and not a lovely shade of blue might I add Ahmad: Really Callen...must you insult Evie's passion for the subject at every turn! Hortense: Actually...I love art! And please...I do not wish to change how your group operates...if you are less formal then please!
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Ahmad: Thank you for being so gracious with us Madame. I apologize for Callen...he's a bit of a grouch when he has not slept well. His twin has been annoying him non stop recently- Callen: Hey! Ahmad: Anyway...if you would like Madame, Evie and I could show you around some of the art exhibits. It is not as glorious as the art of the Francesim palaces- Hortense: oh, I'd love that! I'm open to seeing all forms of art. Evie: Brilliant! We shall make plans then! Sorry Oli, we're going to steal your girl for a day!
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Hortense: Will it be alright? For us to go to a public Museum? Oliver: Of course Mo Gaol...I will also make sure some nondescript security will be there, but it shall be safe. I promise. Hortense: Okay...then we shall go!
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??? [in Scottish Gaelic]: Ahh Your Imperial Highness! It is such a pleasure to meet you! I'm Lady Thalia MacDonald. Hortense[confused]: I'm sorry? I'm afraid I do not speak..gaelic ???[scoffing under her breath in Gaelic]: What a surprise...the stuck up princess does not learn our native tongue and yet the prince expects her to be our queen.
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Oliver: Lady Thalia...need I remind you that Her Imperial Highness has been mourning the loss of her beloved father. Did you expect her to learn such a difficult language as she said her good byes and adjusted to life without one of the fiercest protectors on the continent? Thalia: Oli, I just thought- Oliver: I am His Royal Highness, followed by Sir to you Lady Thalia. I demand you treat Madame Hortense and myself with respect. And you forget I speak our native tongue. Thalia: Forgive me Your Royal Highness...it is just I believed the Madam to be an intelligent Princess- Evie[muttering]: She did not just say that
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Oliver[seething]: Lady Thalia. I will stop you right there. Her Imperial Highness is one of the smartest women I know...She will learn Gaelic with time. She is here as a guest of the King and Queen and when they hear of your rudeness, even your father will not be able to save you... Thalia [seething]: But Sir. Oliver: I demand an apology to Her Imperial Highness. Hortense: Mon Prince...do not make a scene please...
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Oliver[to Hortense]: Mo Gaol...I shall not have you be disrespected like this...not by her [turning to Thalia, seething] Thalia. I command you to apologize to Madame Hortense...Now. Thalia[muttering]: My apologies Your Imperial Highness.... Oliver: I cannot hear you Lady Thalia. Thalia[louder]: My apologies Your Imperial Highness... Hortense[awkwardly]: Your apology is accepted... Oliver: Now leave Thalia. Or I shall summon security.
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