sound-of-fire

anonymous asked:

Hi! Bill/Toye and "You need to go" for the prompt thingy?

YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. I HOPE YOU ARE PREPARED. also god bless for requesting Bill/Toye <333

They were supposed to wait for Winter’s order. Joe was ready, watching, weapon aimed at one of the soldiers walking next to the cart, completely unaware that he was about to feel a bullet from Joe’s rifle and then nothing, ever again.

Joe held his breath, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to squeeze until the forest turned to chaos.

Out of nowhere the soldiers started to fall. It was a beat later that Joe registered the rapid-fire sound of a thompson coming from his right. Guarnere.

Damnit. He’d known Bill was angry, and who wouldn’t be, in Bill’s place? Bill was going to personally chop off Hitler’s balls, and Joe would back him up all the way, for Henry.

But Bill had just jeopardized an entire mission, and that was where Joe drew the line.

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Oh shit moments in overwatch

-you hear the tap tap tap of Genji feet behind you

-“I’ve got you in my sights” *cue panicked 360s trying to see where that old man is yelling from

-“fire in the hole-” *tire noises and you do a REALLY panicked 360 trying to see where it’s coming from

-“nerf this” and it’s time to fucking book it for cover and god bless your soul if there’s nowhere to go

-“RYU GA-” *that horrible whooshing, creaking wood sound and you see hells fire as you die

-PINNED

-turrets shooting you, whether it’s Torbie’s autolocking onto you or symmetra’s slowing draining the life from your walking corpse

-“JUSTICE RAINS-” *right above you

-“DIE DIE DIE” *right behind you

-“HAMMER DOWN” *right in front of you

-“GROUNDED” *especially if a roadhog DRAGS YOU DOWN INTO A HOLE WITH HIM CUZ IF HE GOES DOWN, you go

-Saw the Bastion a second too late

-saw the TURRET a second too late

-walked stupidly into the turret four times thinking you could take it out but just giving Torbjorn a humiliating play of the game Congo

-“aw you look tired”

-“Helden sterben nicht” *the lights of hell as your demons return to you

-Mei tosses her Ult at you and you can’t run and soon you can’t even walk because there’s an icicle in your eye sockets

-“bombs away!” *GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET OFF

-“it’s hiiiiiiigh noon” *IT'SHIGHNOONIT'SHIGHNOON KILL THE BASTARD OR DUCK

this is a story about a sorcerer and a knight. well, a knight-in-training. they go by KiT, a nickname for their title, but a perfectly good name for anyone. kit’s a good squire, for the most part, but they have a knack for getting into trouble.

this time the trouble is they just fuckin decked another knight in the middle of the tavern.

“keep your hands off my friend,” kit tells the shocked personification of grossness, now sitting on his ass on the ground. kit’s pretty sure the message was already sent though the ass-kicking, but it doesn’t hurt to be thorough.

the man splutters for a minute before finding his tongue. “you— you— you piece of shit, you’ll pay for this. i have powerful friends.”

“bring it on,” kit retorts. they’re feeling pretty confident right now.

they’re feeling significantly less confident as two other men step up behind the first guy.

“outside,” the first growls.

“we’re zit and wedge, and we’re going to kick your ass,” the second one clarifies. 

zit nods. “but we don’t want to make a mess of you on mal’s floor, since it was just scrubbed and all.”

kit glances at mal, who they rather thought was a friend, to find her nodding appreciatively. “brawlers these days are so polite. out you three go.”

kit wilts. “but… there’s just one of me.”

it’s around this time, when the two other guys are starting to crack their knuckles and look like they’re going to drag kit outside whether they like it or not, that someone else pushes their way through the small crowd that’s forming.

“’scuse me, pardon me. hello. what’s going on here?”

she’s got bright blue hair, of the kind that you get from mucking around with magic too much. everyone immediately reassesses the situation, and watches her warily. a sorcerer can quickly change the way a brawl plays out, if they feel like intervening. kit sincerely hopes she does.

“miss,” zit jumps in before kit can get a word in, “this young… person, here, just brutally attacked my poor friend, and me and wedge think we ought to be able to teach them a lesson in manners.”

the sorcerer studies him for a moment, as if considering his statement, and kit grabs their chance.

“pimple here is completely leaving out the fact that their friend wouldn’t leave my friend alone, after she asked him to go away twice!”

zit bristles, and looks to the sorcerer for her judgment.

she considers for while. “can anyone vouch for this knight’s statement?”

“i was the one getting hit on!” tea shouts from behind kit’s shoulder.

the sorcerer digests the witness’s statement. “hm. i’m inclined to see this as a case of self-defense, through the channel of someone who was not the self being hit on. i would suggest that all the parties involved accept the ruling of “he who gets their ass kicked probably deserves it”, and move on.”

“fat chance,” wedge growls. “the pack sticks together. we have to defend our leader.”

werewolves, kit sighs internally. it just figured.

there’s a dramatic pause, then the sorcerer says cooly, “you try it, and you’ll get your asses kicked too.”

zit and wedge eye her warily. kit eyes all three of them, which is hard with only two eyes.

“i reckon we could take a sorcerer,” wedge hypothesizes— an idea that would be quickly proven false in any laboratory experiment.

but this is a tavern, and the sorcerer has a delayed reaction, only raising her hands when zit charges at her. kit flinches back, sure she’s about to be crushed, but the next moment flames explode in the small space between the sorcerer and zit. there’s a yelp, and mad scrambling back from the sorcerer.

“i have nowhere to be until book club at midnight,” the sorcerer informs them calmly, her hands still out, palms up and ready to summon more flame. kit squints at them. “so i have plenty of time to teach you a lesson.”

apparently rescinding their hypothesis, all three werewolves make a mad dash for the door and disappear into the night.

the sorcerer smiles victoriously, and shakes her bright hair out of her face. kit squints at her scalp as she turns to them. “all good?”

“yes, thank you,” tea says, sounding impressed. “wow… a fire summoner. i didn’t know there were any teenagers powerful enough.”

kit has no other specific places to squint, so they just stare hard at the sorcerer’s face. “yeah… thanks. that was really cool.”

she waves their thanks off with one hand, a few strands of smoke issuing from her sleeves. “all in a day’s work. i’ll be off now.”

kit leaves tea with mal, though they frankly no longer trust her so much, and follows the sorcerer out the door. “hey, wait! you, blue hair magic person. what are you?”

“a masked vigilante,” she says, after a pause. “without the mask, because magic.”

kit blinks at that, before realizing she’s perfectly right. besides the definite ideas that she’s female and blue-haired, kit seems to forget what she looks like one moment to the next. kinda neat, honestly, though disconcerting.

they shake their head. “no, i mean… you’re not a sorcerer. i’ve seen people summon fire, and it comes from a loosely closed fist, not an open hand. also, your hair is dyed, not magically changed.”

she doesn’t answer for a moment, then looks stumped, and continues to not answer.

“well?” kit asks.

“fine,” she admits. “i’m a sorcerer in training, but the fake mask is about the most complicated magic i can do. the hair is so people will take me seriously when i do masked vigilante stuff.”

“and the fire?” kit persists.

after a moment, she shakes out her sleeve, sending a tiny purple dragon tumbling into her other hand. “my helper. my fire aid, if you will. you’re the first person to notice, you know?”

“just logic and being awesome,” kit says with a shrug, feeling pleased. neither are skills they get to show off a lot. they kinda feel like they’ve earned something for it. “hey, can i ask you a question?”

after a pause, the sorcerer in training says, “go for it.”

“why do you wait a second before responding to anything?”

their question is punctuated by a pause before she answers.

then the sorcerer motions kit closer, and tucks her hair behind her ears. the knight-in-training leans in, gaping. there’s a green dragon no longer than the length of one finger perched behind her ear, claws holding onto her piercings for balance. it unwedges one tiny wing to wave at them.

“what the fuck,” kit says, unable to find a reason for this from logic or being awesome.

“what the fuck,” the dragon repeats, pushing its snoot practically inside the sorcerer’s ear.

“this is peep,” she says. “my hearing is shit, so it helps me out. i call it my hearing aid.”

the draconian hearing aid preens under the knight-in-training’s stare.

“shit,” kit mumbles, for lack of better words.

“shit!” the dragon crows, gleefully.

signs as musical instruments

aries: trumpet / triumphant, youthful, wild sound like a battlecry

taurus: cello / sound mimics the human voice, resonating like a low, warm hum in the chest

gemini: guitar / gemini rules the hands and guitars have such a diverse sound, able to be tuned in many different ways and able to blend into any genre of music

cancer: drumset / instinctual and improvisational, music in its most basic form calls back to the origin of music, rhythm

leo: alto saxophone / colorful, theatrical, and expressive sound like a breath of fire, demands a solo

virgo: violin / sounds of weeping, emotionality expressed by meticulous technique and training

libra: harp / sound has a lawful quality, like a chorus of angels reciting your sins to you 

scorpio: bass guitar / sexy, smooth sound evoking the mystery and allure of the deep sea 

sagittarius: flute / agile, clear, sounds of flight, playful but knowing

capricorn: double bass / supports the whole band with rhythm and a strong, mature, vocal sound

aquarius: piano / the accompanist, ties the different sounds and musicalities of an ensemble together, but has a unique, rebellious voice of its own 

pisces: theremin / otherworldly sound, quite literally untouchable, like a psychic instrument

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Punk (Chap. 11)

Originally posted by coporolight

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: ~2500

Warnings: Language, mission/war related violence and gore, shooting, battle related injuries/casualties/mayhem

A/N:  My sincere apologies for how long this has taken.  I’ve been dealing with some personal things and, quite frankly, it took away all desire to write.  I hope you like this chapter, the photo with the shield later on in the story is actually the inspiration for the entire series.  So you can get inspiration from anywhere :)  I want to thank everyone who stuck around waiting and who has been so helpful and kind to me.  Also, I’m very excited to continue writing more chapters!  Thank you for your continued patience.

As always, feedback is always appreciated.  Please let me know how the ‘action’ plays out as I am always looking for ways to improve my storytelling.  Thanks!



Your face fell in horror, but you seemed to be the only one moving, the rest of the world seemed to be stuck in some sort of time lapse.  Bucky was still just crouching there, holding the boy, with that stupid, beautiful smile still plastered to his face, not yet seeing the danger, not yet registering your alarm.

No no no no no no NO!  Your mind was screaming the words as you tore your gaze away from the scene.  The man was getting closer.  NO!

You bolted forward, shoving the woman into the alley screaming for Bucky to run, ripping your vocal chords in the process. Your legs felt like they were trudging through molasses, like some force was pulling you back, weighing you down. And each step on the pavement felt like an elephant stomp making the ground shake.  But it was as if you weren’t moving any closer.  But you had to.  You had to.   Because what was about to happen could. not. happen.

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heaven

Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter
Warnings: swearing, alcohol
I can’t deny this was totally inspired by @sappypotter :)


Draco could hear the muffled voices through the thick, wooden door of his dorm. He was planning on staying in bed all night, but the voices from the common room kept getting louder and louder, and it was doubtable that Draco would get any sleep.

When he was sure of hearing Pansy’s cackling laugh from the next room, he finally decided to just go and join them. 

A small silence fell over everyone when the blonde boy entered. Draco quickly scanned the room, which consisted of: Blaise Zabini, who wore the usual smirk on his lips, but seemed truly surprised to see Draco; Pansy, short hair tickling her neck, her chin tilted up with her usual demeanor; Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, whose legs were tangled together affectionately, his arm hung loosely over her shoulders.

And last of the bunch, who probably looked the most out of place next to Draco himself, was none other than Harry Potter, who pushed his wire-framed glasses half an inch up his nose as he stared at Draco, along with everyone else.

They all sat in a circle on the floor of the Slytherin common room, which wasn’t rare, ever since McGonagall implemented the new house unity rules for their eighth year. Draco sucked in a breath and regretted coming out of his room.

He just wished Potter would stop staring at him. It made him want to fidget.

“Well, look who decided to join us!” Pansy said, and Draco could tell alone from the tone of her voice that she was a little drunk. It wasn’t until then that he noticed the bottle of firewhiskey in the center of the circle, and all of the plastic cups scattered around the five of them.

When Draco didn’t respond, Blaise said, “Are you gonna sit, Malfoy? Or stand there and continue to stare at us all night?”

Clearing his throat, Draco nodded and muttered,”Yeah, I’ll sit.” He then proceeded to plop down where the biggest gap was, which just happened to be in between Pansy and Harry.

“Well, pour him a drink, Blaise,” prompted Pansy, as Blaise was refilling his own cup. But before Blaise took out a new cup for Draco, Harry blurted, “He can have mine. I’m done for the night.”

Draco turned to look at the curly-haired boy, who was holding out his half-filled cup of firewhiskey, almost like a peace offering. Harry’s glasses had fallen back down his nose, and it took a lot of willpower for Draco not to lean over and adjust them himself.

He tried to think of some witty insult about Potter drugging him, but Draco couldn’t even think straight when his pale fingers brushed against Harry’s warm ones, through the exchanging of the cup.

“Oh,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks.”

Draco turned back to face everyone, and he could practically feel Pansy’s stare digging into his skin. When he finally looked in her direction, she raised an eyebrow at him, her dark purple lips upturned into a suspicious smile.

She knew his secret. There was no getting past his best friend.

Draco took a big sip of the firewhiskey.

HIs eyes roamed around the room, which happened to be vacant saved for the six of them on the floor. Not many Hogwarts students returned the year after the war, and the majority of the ones that did weren’t very social.

Blaise began rambling about something Draco had no interest in, so he zoned out, his fingers wrapped tightly around his cup of alcohol that had previously belonged to Harry Potter.

What a weird turn of events his life had spiraled into. Less than a year ago, Draco was sure he was going to die in the Room of Requirement, when it was completely engulfed in hot flames during the battle.

He truly thought his life was over, but Harry Potter, dirt-streaked and sweat-stained, swooped in on a broomstick and carried Draco to safety.

And ever since that horrid day, Draco hadn’t been able to completely wipe Potter’s face from his mind.

The only sounds present were the fire crackling in the fireplace and Blaise’s smooth voice, rambling on about Merlin knows what. Draco practically jumped a foot into the air when he felt a hand on his left arm.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, flicking something onto the carpet with the hand that had just grazed Draco. “You had a thread on your sweater.”

Trying to remain calm and ignore the heart palpitations inside his chest, Draco cleared his throat and mumbled, “It’s okay. Thanks.”

Was it a sin that, after that, all he wanted that night was for Harry to touch him again?

~~~~~

Within a matter of hours, the night had unraveled into an unnerving game of Truth or Dare. 

After about five minutes, Ron had ended up without a shirt and Pansy had already shared a very detailed account of her last date with a girl she’d been seeing. Draco’s blood felt as if it were boiling with anxiety under his skin, and he wished he could just rewind the past couple of hours and retreat back to his warm bed. 

But he couldn’t escape. “Truth or dare, Draco?” Pansy’s voice rang, dripping in sugar and venom.

The alcohol was blurring Draco’s thoughts slightly, but he was still very aware of the close proximity in which Harry was sitting, cross-legged, next to him.

He thought he had dodged a bullet when he answered, “Dare.” He didn’t want to deal with facing his secrets head on in front of everyone.

Pansy’s lips curled upward into a grin, and Draco’s stomach did flips. “I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

Fuck.

Everyone else hummed a collective, “Ooooh,” as Draco was forced to face this challenge (which he had never signed up for in the first place).

In attempts to play it safe, Draco moved toward his right - toward Pansy, whom he had always thought of to be nice to look at. But mostly because he hoped she would just help him out with the situation at hand.

It didn’t work, because Pansy leaned backward and Blaise blurted out, “Oh please, Draco, we all know you’re about as straight as the sky is red.”

Ron snickered, and Draco saw Hermione try to hide her smile as well, as she buried her face into Ron’s sweater. He shot them a look with daggers in his eyes before waiting for a reaction from Harry, which never came.

It was at this precise moment that Draco decided to down the rest of the firewhiskey in his cup, as the rest of the eighth-years stared him down. Draco needed as much courage he could possible get if he was going to do what he was about to do.

In one swift movement, Draco threw his empty plastic cup to the floor, scooped Harry Potter’s face into his hands, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Harry was taken aback, naturally, and Draco felt the brunette’s whole body go rigid. Draco just kissed him harder, because he knew this may be his only chance - he’s never have the right confidence to do this again.

Draco was finally about to pull away, when Harry seemed to regain control of his body and began to kiss him back.

Draco felt like melting right then and there, and he probably would have if it weren’t for the fact that Harry’s face was sitting in his hands. The golden boy’s own hands made their way to Draco’s blonde hair, and it felt like…

Heaven. That was the only word Draco could think of as the two boys moved their lips against one another’s. He wasn’t even religious, but that’s exactly what it felt like to Draco - heaven.

It was sloppy, and wet, and utterly wonderful.

When it was finally over, they pulled away and just stared at each other, for what felt like a lifetime.

The common room was dead silent, as Pansy, Blaise, Hermione, and Ron stared in complete surprise and fascination. Draco had nearly forgotten he had an audience - no, they, had an audience.

Draco wasn’t sure any of them would ever speak again until Blaise finally whispered, “Damn,” his voice sounding low and raspy.

That’s when Draco finally ripped his eyes from Harry’s and looked around at the spectators, who stared back looking quite dumbfounded.

No one had probably ever expected none other than Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy to bump lips, let alone be in the same room and not at each other’s throats.

When Draco looked back at Harry and his forest-green eyes, he was met with Potter’s crooked yet beautiful grin staring him in the face.

Things had changed - Draco could feel it in the air, and certainly in the tingle of his lips. He smiled back at the curly-haired boy. Draco was ready for a change.

This Is War [12]

Summary: After being rejected by your best friend Bucky, Sam sets you up with one of his friends, on the condition that if the date doesn’t go well, you have to sign up for a dating app. The date doesn’t go well. As you begin to look for love in other places, Bucky starts to feel something he never felt before. Jealous.

Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1359

Warnings: It’s angsty again.. There’s crying.. I’m sorry..

A/N: The next part will be the last!! Thank you everybody who has stuck with me on this one for so long!! Your feedback has been incredible!! Thank you all so so much xo

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FAHC Hitman Gavin

Something I haven’t seen crop up yet in the FAHC universe is Gavin’s skill at Hitman. Imagine heists where Michael and The Vagabond come in bipping and blasting their way through the front door. The enemy rallies their men to try and contain the situation, because they know who they are dealing with and know they are going to need everything they have to keep those two from advancing. At first it seems to be working. They have Michael pinned down behind a dumpster and The Vagabond is blind firing from behind the corner of an alleyway. Meanwhile, while most of the enemy’s attention is fixed forward, Gavin is at the back of the building, aiming a silenced pistol at the two men standing guard at the back door. Two bullets for two skulls and they are dead before they hit the ground. He picks the lock and sneaks in. He avoids the security cameras and stays in the shadows. He moves fast, silently rushing up behind enemies and garroting them or slitting their throats, dragging their bodies into back rooms without ever being seen. Up front, the gang leader is getting cocky. The Vagabond and Michael, both feared names in Los Santos, seem to be no match for his own men. They are hardly even shooting back now. Perhaps one of them has been hit already. He notices then that the sound of guns firing around him has reduced greatly. In fact, he realizes, he seems to be the only one shooting. He turns around, ready to scream at his men for being cowards but then stops short. His men are gone. He doesn’t see a single body. Just smears of blood on the floor and one man standing in the midst of it all, gold sunglasses on top of his head, a garrote in one hand and a bloody dagger in the other. There’s not a single spot of blood on his light blue shirt, just a snarky smile on his face. 

“You’re out of friends,” The young man says, and from the British accent the gang leader realizes which member of the Fake AH Crew he is.

“You’re not supposed to be on the front lines,” the gang leader says in disbelief. “You’re just the hacker.”

“Wrong,” a voice behind him says darkly. He spins to see The Vagabond standing there, Michael beside him. “He is our greatest weapon.”

The silent pistol raises behind him. One bullet for one skull, and he is dead before he hits the ground.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Joan of Arc

unkempt, bruise-knuckled boy
kneeling in the dirt by the rhubarb
patch, searching for chrysalises
under the leaves. i see you
in your ponytail, your pink shorts,
chasing dreams you can’t name yet
except as i think i want to hide
a while & watch my body become
something else entirely.

barefaced, rebellious boy
shedding your mother’s expectations
for tight sports bras & smuggled
books read by flashlight under covers
while the crickets sing. i know you,
how you pray to the magazine
cut-out of falconetti’s joan,
si Dieu vous a fait être un guerrier,
Il peut me faire un homme,

and oh how the the sound of it
tastes like fire and armor both.

soft-spoken man living
inside the damp cocoon of language,
yearning for that day of radiant,
war-winning flight, i am you.
we have been the child burying
himself in the back-garden,
but one day soon we will be the poet
who looks at the battle to say,
i will be loud & brave forever.

anonymous asked:

I’m the anon who requested the rainy day kisses and you totally delivered the goods. :D Thank you!! I hope it’s okay that I send in another request because I really enjoy your scenarios. ^^ For the chocobros: post-game happy AU where everyone has a family and the bro has a heart-to-heart with their teenaged kid (for this request: a daughter for Gladio & Iggy, son for Prompto & Noct) who asked the bro about the moment they knew their s/o was ‘the one’. Thanks!

NOCTIS

Noctis walked into the training arena, watching his son warping from one end of the room to the other. He stood by the doorway, watching as Ferox panted, dropping his dagger to the ground with his hands on his knees.

“Giving up already?” Noctis called, and Ferox rose to his full height. At thirteen, he was almost as tall as his dad, stretching his back and allowing it to crack loudly before loosening up his shoulders.

“Mom said I should take combat training more seriously.”

Noctis snorted. “Sounds like something she would say.”

Ferox tried warping a few more times under his father’s supervision, but eventually gave up, collapsing in a heap on the ground with his arms and legs splayed out like a drunken starfish.

“This is too hard,” Ferox groaned, pinching his eyes shut. “I don’t get why she’s being so strict with me about this warping thing.”

Noctis came to sit down beside his son, nudging him until he sat upright. “Your mother has been through a lot in her past. She’s lost a lot of people, had to make sacrifices to save others. Warping is something that only those tied to the King’s magic can do. She knows that mastering it will keep you safe in the long run, so trust her on that.”

Ferox leaned his elbow on his knee, propping his chin up with his fist. “Is that how you met?” he asked.

Noctis shoved him lightly with his shoulder. “Maybe.” He sighed, remembering the day. “We’d met on the road one day. Magitek troopers had invaded the outpost we were visiting, and me and the guys decided to try and fight them off. But we were tired, careless. It had been a really long day. But then your mother came swooped in and basically took them all down single-handedly.”

Ferox’s mouth gaped. “Woah.”

Noctis nodded. “Yep. I knew then and there, as the dust settled, that I was in love with her.” He patted his son’s knee. “Enough resting. Wanna try again?”

“I guess I should,” Ferox conceded, rising to his feet. “Do you think Mom’ll spar with me if I ask her?”

“Hey,” Noctis teased, grabbing a pair of wooden swords from a bin. “You too good to spar with your old man?”

“You just said Mom was a better fighter,” Ferox countered, and yelped as Noctis took a playful whack at his shin.


PROMPTO

Solis was lounging on the couch, flipping through old photo albums. He had found one that was labelled with pictures from a little over twenty years ago. He blew his unruly blond hair, a feature he’d gotten from his father, out of his eyes as he opened the pages and scanned over the images.

The photos in the album were varied. Some were of scenery, some were taken during combat (Why, Dad. That’s definitely not a smart thing to do), and there were quite a few selfies that made Solis chuckle.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” His father’s voice made him jump as Prompto sauntered into the room and plopped down next to his son.

“Just looking at old photos,” Solis shrugged, flipping to another page. “Oh, hey, look…it’s Mom.”

Solis saw his dad’s face soften as he looked at the photo of the two of you. It was one that Prompto hadn’t taken himself—it was a candid shot Noctis had snapped of you at the Vesperpool by the water. It was right around the time you’d met, and you were standing too close together to be just friends. Prompto thought back to that moment, and chuckled to himself.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” Solis mimicked, causing Prompto to burst into a fit of giggles. Even at sixteen, Solis was the spitting image of his father. Same hair colour, same lanky build. But he had your eyes and your smile, which were Prompto’s favourite features.

“Just thinking about the moment I knew I wanted to marry your mom.”

Solis scrunched up his nose. “Dad, I don’t know if I want to hear that story.”

“Guess who’s gonna hear it anyway?” Prompto tousled Solis’ hair, much to his chagrin.

“Dad! I’m not five anymore!” he whined, but settled into the couch to listen to his father’s story. “Go on.”

“Your mom suggested one morning that we go take photos of the catoblepas,” Prompto pointed to a different photo, one that illustrated the creature. “She insisted on getting up close and personal with them. She figured it’d be better for the picture. So I’m set up with my tripod and my camera about five or six feet away, and she’s holding these mushrooms to get them to come closer.”

Prompto mimed the set up with his hands, and Solis nodded along the way.

“I was ready to take the shot, and she was posing, looking all cute. But then the catoblepas got so close. I yelled to warn her, but when she turned, she reached out her hand and pet the damn thing. And it actually nuzzled into her palm. Can you believe it?” Prompto sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. “A legendary creature, yielding to your mother. What a lady.”

Solis turned the page of the album and found the photo of you cozying up to the catoblepas. “One thing’s for sure,” he decided. “You’re both nuts.” He paused. “But I’m glad you found each other.”


GLADIO

Gladio knocked on Acacia’s door. Having a teenage daughter was not easy, and having a teenage daughter in full mood swings was enough to want to make Gladio pull his hair out. It reminded him of Iris when she was younger.

A muffled voice rang out. “Come in.”

Gladio opened the door to his raven-haired daughter lying face down on her bed, not even attempting to greet her father as he took a seat by her desk.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Acacia peeked an eye at him. “Nothing.”

Gladio folded his arms over his chest. “Didn’t sound like nothing according to Mom.”

Acacia sat up, apparently triggered by whatever Gladio had said, irritation clear as day on her features. “She’s just so over protective!” she huffed, hands balling into fists. “I just wanted to go away for the weekend, and she won’t let me because she said she doesn’t know who else is going.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow. “Seems like a decent enough reason to say no to me.”

Acacia groaned. “Not you too.”

He smirked at her, shaking his head. “Do you know the moment I realized your mom was the one?”

She blinked slowly. “I don’t see how this is relevant to what’s happening right now.”

Gladio continued. “When I was on the road with the guys, I met her. She was definitely too good for me. Way too smart, way too pretty. And for some reason, she gave me the time of day. After what happened in Lestallum and we lost Jared, she offered to stay and take care of Iris and Talcott until we got back.”

Acacia looked at her father expectantly.

“I knew then, when she decided to put her whole life on hold to make sure that my family stayed safe, the last remaining family I had, that she was it. She cared so much about these people that she barely knew, took them in like they were her own and kept them safe while the world fell apart around them. And now she’s trying to do that for you. She lost a lot of people in the ten years of darkness, sweetheart. Try and understand that she’s being protective of you because she doesn’t want to lose you, too.”

Acacia let out a sigh, slumping her shoulders. “I guess I owe Mom and apology.”

“Guess you do.”

She nodded and rose to her feet, slowly making her way to the door.

“If you want to go camping,” Gladio offered. “I’d be more than happy to take you.”

“Thanks Dad, but no,” Acacia replied, stepping into the hallway. “I’ve got better things to do.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. Yeah, he thought to himself. Just like Iris.


IGNIS

It wasn’t often that Ignis and his daughter got to spend a great deal of time together because of his duties at the palace and her school schedule, but he relished the moments they did get to share. They often cooked together, concocting new recipes side by side.

“How come Mom doesn’t cook?” Aurora asked, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. “Is it because she can’t?”

“She’s not extraordinarily proficient, but she gets by,” Ignis stated, and Aurora marvelled at how skilled her father was with a knife even though he was blind. “Actually, it was our first evening in together when she decided to cook for me that I realized how much I loved her.”

“Aw! Dad!” Aurora gushed. “Tell me! I love these stories.”

Ignis chuckled and kept at the chopping.

“She’d planned this whole dinner for the two of us. She knew that I enjoyed the culinary arts, and wanted to give it a go herself. I told her that it wasn’t necessary to go through all the effort, but she informed me that I’d cooked for her on multiple occasions, so it was only fair.”

Ignis smiled to himself at the memory.

“She ended up burning everything.”

Aurora couldn’t help but laugh. “Dad! Why are you smiling? That’s terrible!”

Ignis could still smell the ruined dinner, the smoke coming from the oven and the shrill sound of the fire alarm beeping in the kitchen. He remembered the sound of your laugh, the sound of you swatting a broom at the alarm to get it to shut off, as it was just out of reach.

“She took such care to ensure that everything was perfect, but in the end, the meal being ruined hadn’t phased her spirit,” Ignis continued. “She ended up pulling out two servings of Cup Noodles, and we ate them together by candlelight.”

Aurora leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. “Dad, that’s so cute.”

“It was a special moment,” Ignis agreed. “I knew then that her resilience was something to be admired. I knew her before I was blind, as just a friend, and after I sustained my injury, she refused to leave my side. She’s always been more than I deserve, and she even gifted me with you.” Ignis reached out and wrapped an arm around Aurora’s shoulders, giving her a light squeeze.

“Love you, Dad,” she smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Ignis went to go stir a pot on the stove. “There is one thing you have in common with that night, come to think of it,” a mischievous lilt to his tone.

Aurora glanced over at Ignis. “Hm? What’s that?”

“Technically speaking, you were an accident as well.”

For a blind man, he was quite skilled at dodging flying spatulas.

UNTRANSLATABLE WORDS FOR THE AESTHETIC™ {PART I}

1) Po ushi vlubitsya (Russian) - An idiom that literally translates to “fall in love up to your ears”.

2) Nanakorobi Yaoki 七転び八起き(Japanese) - An idiom that translates to “ if you fall seven times, get back up eight times”.

3) Merak (Serbian)- Refers to a feeling of bliss and the sense of oneness with the universe that comes from the simplest of pleasures. It is the pursuit of small, daily pleasures that all add up to a great sense of happiness and fulfillment.

4) Mono no aware (物の哀れ) (Japansese)- Translates literally to “the pathos of things”, and also translated as “an empathy toward things”, or “a sensitivity to ephemera“, and is the Japanese concept for the awareness of the impermanence or transience of all things and the gentle sadness and wistfulness at their passing. It is enjoying the sadness of the inevitable cycle of life.

5) Komorebi (Japanese) - The sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees.

6) Nefelibata (Portuguese) - Literal translation of “cloud walker”, and describes someone who does not conform to the rules of society, art and literature & lives by within the clouds of their own imagination and dreams.)

7) Fýrgebræc (Old English) - The word for sharp breaking / crackling sound made by fire.

8) Sillage (French) - Term for the scent that lingers after something/one has passed & the wake or trails that airplanes leave in the sky or boats in water as well as the trace of someone’s perfume.

9) Kyōka suigetsu (Japanese) - An idiom with the literal translation of “flower in the mirror & a moon in the water”, and references something which is visible and cannot be touched as well as the profound beauty of poems that cannot be described in words.

10)Temul (Mongolian)- References a creative frenzy, to intensely be inspired and take a flight of fancy. “the word (temul) was best exemplified by ‘the look in the eye of the horse that is racing where it wants to go, no matter what the rider wants’”. – Jack Weatherford, Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World (2004))

11) Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan) - The wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.)

12) Cafuné (Brazilian Portueguese) - The act of tenderly running one’s fingers through someone’s hair.

13) Luftmensch (Yiddish) - Refers to someone who is a bit of a dreamer; literally, an “air person.”

14) Duende (Spanish) - The mysterious power that a work of art has to deeply move a person.

15) L’appel du vide (French) - Literally translated to “the call of the void”; contextually used to describe the instinctive urge to jump from high places.

16)Commuovere (Italian) - Often taken to mean “heartwarming,” but directly refers to a story that moved you to tears

17) Hanyauku (Rukwangali) - The act of walking on tiptoes across warm sand.

18) Kilig (Tagalog) - The feeling of butterflies in your stomach, usually when something romantic takes place.

19) Vergissmeincht ( German) - The term for forget-me-not flowers, and in 15th Cwntury Germany, it was believed that wearers of the flower would not be forgotten by their lovers. Legend has it that in medieval times, a knight and his lady were walking along the side of a river. He picked a posy of flowers, but because of the weight of his armour he fell into the river. As he was drowning he threw the posy to his loved one and shouted “forget me not”. It was often worn by ladies as a sign of faithfulness and enduring love.

20) Hǎi shì shān méng (海誓山盟) (Chinese)- A proverb of eternal love that literally translates to “the promises of mountains and vows of seas”.

21) Setsunai 切ない (せつない) (Japenese) a Word for a feeling between bitttersweet,painful and wistful.

22) Aranyhíd (Hungarian)- A term for the reflection of the sun as it shines on water and can literally be translated to “the golden bridge”.

23) Xibipíío (Pirahã) - A word for the description of experiential liminality- of a being in the boundaries of experience and the act of entering or leaving perception.

24) Yūgen (幽玄) (Japenese) - This is a principle at the core of the appreciation of beauty and art in Japan. It shows that real beauty exists when, through its suggestiveness, only a few words, or few brush strokes, can suggest what has not been said or shown – hence awaken many inner thoughts and feelings.

25) Rasāsvāda रसास्वाद (Sanskrit) - rasa, “juice, essence”; āsvāda, “tasting, enjoying”) A word for the taste of bliss in the absence of all thoughts.

26) Sehnsucht (German) - A term for the inconsolable longing in the human heart for what we know not.

27) Cheiro no cangote (Brazilian Portuguese )- A term depicting the act of nuzzling your love’s neck with the tip of your nose.

28) Gökotta (Swedish) - A word that is often referred to as “dawn picnic to hear the first birdsong”.

29) Natsukashii (Japanese) - A term for the warm sentimentality of fond memories & nostalgia.

30) Yakamoz (Turkish)- Yakamoz is commonly referred to as the reflection of the moon as it shines upon the water.Though its original meaning is now nearly forgotten, a yakamoz is actually the light coming from the ocean or salt-water rivers that is caused by microorganisms Noctuluca scintillans, commonly known as the Sea Sparkle, and considered as the fireflies of the sea. When these creatures are moved or disturbed, they create a wonderful luminescent effect that, when gazed from afar, look like a scene in which moonlight shines in the sea. The closest English equivalent to yakamoz, they say, is phosphorescence.

31) Preetogjes (Dutch) - A term that literally translates to “fun-eyes” and describes the eyes of a chucking person who is up to benign mischief.

32) Ukiyo (Japanese)- A term which translates to “the floating world”, and depicts a place of fleeting beauty and living in the moment, without worries.

33) Wabi-Sabi (Japanese) - A phase that finds beauty in the “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete”. Wabi is the quality of a rustic, yet refined, solitary beauty. Sabi means things whose beauty stems from age - the patina of age, and the concept that changes due to use may make an object more beautiful and valuable. Sakura {cherry blossoms} in spring are perfect examples of this as they are aesthetically pleasing precisely because they don’t last.

34) Aamukaste (Finnish) - Word for morning dew .

35) Mångata (Swedish)- The glimmering,roadlile reflection of moonlight on a river.

36) Hanaemi 花笑み (Japanese) - Means the “flowering smile” or “the smile of flowers” in old Japanese. It is a smile that is as beautiful as blooming flowers, calling people to feel happy.)

37) Les bruixes es pentinen (Catalan) - This is a Catalan phrase for sunshower which has a colloquiall mythology reference to “witches brushing their hair”.

38) Walwalün (Malpundungan) -A word for the sound of flowing water.

39) Dhvani (Sanskrit) - A term depicting the feature of a poem/line having a hidden meaning that strikes you on the second or further readings but not the first.

40) Orenda (Huron ) - A term used to describe the mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world or change their own fate/destiny.

41) Abendrot (German) - A word for the colour of the sky when the sun is setting.

42) Phosphene (English)- A word that depicts the colour or stars you see when you rub your eyes.

43) Dérive (French)- A term encompassing spontaneous journey on which the subtle aesthetic contours of the landscape and architecture subconsciously attract and move the traveler, encountering an entirely new and authentic experience. In performing a dérive, the individual in question must first set aside all work and leisure activities, clearing their minds of all their usual motives for movement and action, then let themselves be drawn by the attractions of the terrain and the encounters they find there.

44) Yùyīn (Chinese) - A term that depicts the remanants of a sound that remain in the ear even after the sound has stopped.

45) Kōwhekowheko (Maori) - A word that describes the motion of fire as it dies out and blazes up again and/or to burst into flames when seemingly not burning.

46) Eigengrau (German ) - A term that translates literally to “intrinsic grey”, and the color seen by the eye in perfect darkness.

47) Kawa Akari (Japenese) - A term which translated literally to “river light”, and describes the sunset reflecting on the river, the glow of a river int the darkness and the gleam of a last night on a rivers surface at dusk.

48) şafak ( Turkish) - This word depicts the first skylight seen during dawn or just before the sun rises.

49) Bilita mpash (Bantu) - The term for the opposite of nightmare- not merely a good dream but a “legendary blissful state where all is forgiven and forgotten.”

50)Kaza Hikaru (風光る) (Japanese) - _ A warm breeze of spring that follows after a dark cold winter, comes and breathes gently upon the skin, as if like a shining radiance.

{Credit : @word-stuck, Thought Catalog, and Google}
hopeless fountain kingdom response

i love the whole album vibe. she sounds amazing and this is nothing like closer, which i bet people were anticipating. this is just a huge step up from badlands (which i love dearly, not sure if i like HFK more yet)

skipping the prologue b/c i have no real interest in it

  1. 100 letters: i think this is a strong opening song. surprised with the lyrics b/c i thought we were getting a love like romeo/juliet feeling. whatever. i love this song and it just starts off with proper halsey lyrics
  2. eyes closed: i prefer the stripped version because it highlights her voice and gives the song a whole softer meaning/feeling. the original is also good, but i get the depth with the stripped version
  3. heaven in hiding: this could easily be a single. this could also be an excellent opener for her concert. i feel like i should just go for a run (which i hate). pump up jam is a easy way it describe it 
  4. alone: wasn’t too into the music but the lyrics are heartbreaking. much like recent paramore and 21pilots it sounds like a fun song but it just makes me wanna give halsey a giant hug
  5. now or never: this was such a smart song to release as a single and set up the album. i will continue having this on repeat
  6. sorry: unexpected and beautiful. reference to her bipolar disorder? i wish she stripped her songs down more. she sounds perfect and the lyrics are just so real. again just wanna give her a hug. the bridge/post chorus is almost like a mantra to herself but then it ends with someone itsn’t me and that makes it even sadder
  7. good mourning: i really didn’t expect that sort of interlude but weirdly liked it
  8. lie: lyrics that shouldn’t surprise any hasley fan. kinda wish it was just her. possibly my least favorite on the album
  9. walls could talk: def about lido and this is again just sounds awesome. the instant the song started i was hooked
  10. bad at love: she teased this on snapchat and it haunted me for months. i LOVE this song. the whole sound, the lyrics. A JAM
  11. don’t play: that music intro?!?! into in. drops that beat and says fuck. into it. rihanna vibe? hell yes and i am not complaining at all
  12. strangers: adding lauren was genius. they sound great together. i really can’t put into words how much i love this collab
  13. angel on fire: sounds like it could of belonged on badlands, which is not bad or mean it doesn’t fit. it just feels like a halsey song all around
  14. devil in me: up there on the favorites list. i love the way she sounds during the verses. that shift in lyrics was interesting whether its addressing her personality as a whole, in pieces or her bipolar disorder all depends on how you interpret it. either way gonna go find halsey and give her a big hug
  15. hopeless: definitely a cool take on production. i love the lyrics that just end the album. it just wraps everything up
The Night Ahead (Part 1)

summary: bucky came out of cryostasis after just a few months. with the help of steve, he’s trying to piece the fractions of his mind back together. while flipping through old HYDRA files, he remembers something from his days as the winter soldier: you.

pairing: bucky x reader (sort of?? it’s complicated)

series contains: angsty angst, sadness, bucky reliving memories as the Winter Soldier, violence, people die a lot, bucky trying to cope, really awful translations of German, Russian, and Romanian (thanks to google translate i apologize in advance)

a/n: so like all my followers know what a pain in my ASS this fic has been. started off as a one-shot based off the song “house on a hill” by the pretty reckless, and has slowly mutated into a freaking series. this part is in bucky’s POV, but after this the rest of the series (save for one other part) will be in the “reader’s” perspective. there’s a lot of flashbacks in this fic, which is a new kind of thing for me. all flashbacks are written in italics and put in blockquotes. this fic is something new for me, so if you could leave me messages letting me know what you think i would be eternally grateful!  also, if you like this fic, please check out my master list

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

BUCKY

Bucky flipped through the files, trying to ignore Steve’s gaze weighing on him. Most of the folders were thin. There was maybe a page or two of mostly useless information. Possible aliases, possible contacts, and activities. It was all varied, and its accuracy debatable. There was only one thing each file had in common – every file, every person, was a HYDRA associate.  

He tossed a file onto the table, his gaze lifting enough to unsurprisingly find Steve’s glacier blues focused on his face. Bucky held the look for a brief moment before he dropped his eyes and opened up the new folder. “I’m fine, Steve.” 

I’m fine. I’m fine. After three months, the phrase felt almost like bile in his throat whenever he said the words. A simple expression that has transfigured into something pale and flat from overuse. Bucky had said it when he came out of cryo three months ago, when Wakandan scientists thought they had found a way to negate whatever HYDRA had put in him, only to have the experiment fall through. He said it again when his future was discussed, now that he was thawed and still a ticking time bomb. The possibility of going back into cryo was discussed, but Bucky refused because he was fine. And the relief he saw in his best friend’s face at the refusal was Bucky’s main argument every day since that he made the right decision. 

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