flooded curb

faequeen40  asked:

Lord have mercy I love your writing! Your kiss prompts are so well done that on a scale of one to even, I simply can't. Of course, leading up to that. I really want the K. :D

*takes advantage of the fact that ‘apprends moi’ (teach me) and ‘ah, prends moi’ (ah, take me) are a simple hitch of breath apart :3c*

(am i doing year-old prompts? yes i am absolutely doing year-old prompts)

S'il vous plaît = please (polite)
apprends moi = teach me
prends moi = take me
beau gosse = approximately ‘good-looking kid’ or ‘stud’ (what marinette calls adrien instead of ‘hot stuff’ in the french dub)

dedicated to @isadorator for her help with betaing my remix, THANK YOU AGAIN ♥♥♥

and THANK YOU @mirthaculous FOR MAKING THIS MAKE SENSE YOU ARE A GODSEND ;A;

18: Underwater Kiss

Ladybug took stock of the situation:

The three of them (her, Chat, and the akuma) had been thrown into a town square of sorts: an open space that was now surrounded by walls of water on all sides. Geyser had taken a break from blasting powerful waterspouts at them to pose and laugh maniacally, but still wasn’t wearing any obvious accessories or objects that she could see.

The city at large (or what she could see of it, at least) had been turned into an elaborate deathtrap of a water-park-slash-fountain-showcase. Their attempt to curb the flooding by Cataclysming the public fountain that Geyser had designed had backfired, simply allowing more water to burst forth from beneath Paris’ paved streets. And Chat…

Chat was casting nervous, wincing glances at the last flickering light of his Miraculous.

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Clock Radio

The year’s been one of exhausted sleep,
the never’s roosters jaunting along
the window pane. Is this feeling, exhaustion,
an act or a fact? And thinking about it?
I missed the lesson, I walked passed my stop –
the rain came down on itself, each expired
joy flooding over the curb. The first grimmace
of night and the corner wine, an hour
of listening to a music box, slightly out of tune.
There’s a dance in us somewhere, save our cuffs
and unroll our miserable skin.

Feeling is a fact you might ignore in place
of noises – life eats life, another nail
chewed off its axis and lost among random
patches of grass in the unconquerable city.
Movement is spirit and I’m exhausted and awake
because I’ll miss myself when I join dusk
in its hour of no one. I’ll miss myself
so much I’ll create a perpetual need
by asking “Who am I?” often to the delirious throb.