#briller

[vhscorp]

L’espoir, c’est cette lumière qui soudain brille dans l’obscurité…

V. H. SCORP

[papillondusublime]

II.

À quoi bon vivre si je meurs à chaque instant? À quoi bon briller si je m’éteins lentement? Étant libre, suis-je condamnée à souffrir? Du premier souffle est née la nuit où je m’expire.

Si l’Homme s’efface dans la brume du soir, À quoi bon un nom qui soit inscrit dans l’Histoire? L’on dit que l’art est long et que la vie est brève, Mais le Temps rôde autour des chimères du rêve.

Mon ventre plein, n’est-il qu’un festin pour les vers? Les roses de mes joues, un masque du désert? Les aînés dans la rue, aux rides pour rideau, Avancent dans le monde en lui tournant le dos.

Et moi, observant le spectacle du vieil âge, Ma foi est aveuglée, brûlée par l’éclairage. Ne pouvant endurer le feu des projecteurs, La lumière, de mon cœur bleu, prend la couleur.

Un réseau sans routes et des filtres sans pores, Avec les heures bleues, défilent sans effort. L’image creuse en moi des tunnels de prison… Si ma vie est plate, pourquoi je tourne en rond?

Je n’ai plus goût de rien, pourtant j'ai faim d'amour; Mes fleurs se dessèchent, mais j’ai soif d’un toujours. Sans tarder, je suivrai les nuages dans l’air, M’évaporant afin de pleurer sur la Terre!

Je continue, hélas, de blanchir mon sépulcre, Dans la mort en larmes faisant fondre du sucre. Mais comme les caries, noires sont mes pilules Et le palais visible à l’entrée des cellules.

-Poésie: extrait de "Sans nom (pierre tombale éponyme)", à lire dans "Genèse d'une femme" par Marine Mariposa, disponible gratuitement sur https://sites.google.com/view/papillondusublime/gen%C3%A8se-dune-femme -Image: ''Vanitas'', Clara Peeters

[stormkpr]

[yutopia-eleftheria]

Inktober 2023 ; Day 28/31

Day 28 : Sparkle (Briller/Scintiller/Érinceler)

Another "I'm literally named that way" type of drawing.

But honestly : I've always wanted to try and draw Midnight Sparkle so it was the perfect occasion. But I decided to do a double and draw Twilight Sparkle as we saw her in the last episode of the show.

She has a pretty nice design so there is my try in doing them.

Note that Twilight is done in my style because in my AU there are physical traits that define the different races (Earth Pony, Unicorn, Pegasus, Alicorn) so that's pretty much how an Alicorn is in my AU.

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 24: Miller/Bryan, Boyfriends

This is literally the least Christmas-y thing I could write on Christmas Eve but I just had the urge to write some angsty Miller/Bryan stuff instead of trying to do fluff. I'm just not in the fluff mood.

This is in the same universe as this scene, is extremely self-indulgent, and may or may not be good, but it was fun.

Canon-divergent, S3-era, ~760 words, some sexual content

Written in 22 minutes

*

When they were dating on the Ark, they would fantasize often about domesticity. They'd find quarters together as soon as they turned eighteen, either on Alpha or on Farm, or anywhere else that would take them; they'd sleep together in a bed big enough for two. They'd develop some sort of morning routine. Their clothes would get mixed up. They'd kiss at every threshold, before parting, upon meeting.

Miller was a damned romantic in those days too: trading stolen goods for extra ration points and extra ration points for private time in the mess and a dinner for two; memorizing love sonnets; handing Bryan sprigs of plants from the fields on Farm as if they were bouquets. Some of the gestures made Bryan laugh. But always with such fondness. And after Miller was arrested, they promised to stay faithful—Bryan promised to visit and promised to wait—and so everyone in the Sky Box said they were married. That was the word for couples who believed in a future like that. Miller never told anyone that he proposed for real, with a bit of junk metal fashioned into a ring, as earnest and as quiet and as serious as he'd ever been in his life, never told a single soul that Bryan said yes. Yes Miller would live and as soon as he got out, they'd be married in Miller's father's quarters and afterwards, never separated ever again.

Later, when Bellamy asks, he says he has a boyfriend. Fiancé seems too heavy somehow, like maybe Bellamy will read it as kids playing dress up, or only frown as he does at Sky Box slang he never got the hang of.

It's easier to live with himself, too, when he's got a boyfriend up there or out there or possibly dead, than to let himself go on spinning fantasies about the love of his life.

It's not domestic now and it's not sweet either, or soft, or easy, when they don't know what to say to each other, so every time they meet, they just fuck. Bryan hangs out with Farm mostly, without saying they're family in so many words. Miller’s got his dropship survivors. Thy almost never talk about that now. The scar on his shoulder aches when it's about to rain, and when he puts on the Guard jacket, it feels heavy on his shoulders.

Bryan's assigned quarters in some of the new outbuildings, where they've stuck the rest of the station because all the rooms in Alpha have already been divided up. But it's not hard to sneak over, hardly more of a challenge to sneak Bryan over to his. Bellamy practically lives at Gina's now. Their bed is a double, and it's easy to shove Bryan down on it.

They never get fully undressed and they lie to themselves and say it's because it takes too long, and they need something hot and hard and now, they miss each other so goddamn much. It doesn't hurt the way that sex always hurt in crowded spaces up on the Ark: banged elbow in the supply closet, ache in his back from trying to twist around too much in his single bed, and then he couldn't even catch his breath after, because soon his father would be home. He might say it hurts in a worse way now, like poking an old bruise. Old man, Bryan says, half-smiling, when his heart starts beating too fast and his lungs burn but he's thinking about Bellamy giving him a hand job in this same bed and then about how many people have fucked in it over the last 100 years, and how little it matters, sentimentality like that.

He can feel Bryan's palm pressed close against him, that moment of pressure before his fingers start scrambling for Miller's zip, and he thinks that if he's breathing in the air from Bryan's lungs right now, open mouth to open mouth and the darting slick press of tongues, maybe he's also hearing Bryan's heart in his ears. Maybe they are one person. Maybe that's the rhythm he can feel coming of its own accord into his hips, as Bryan straddles on top of him, and they move as if they were fucking, and everything else drowns out and is still.

They haven't mentioned the word marriage since their reunion at the settlement gates. Not even once. No words like boyfriends or domesticity or even home, but again and again he huffs you into Bryan's mouth: you and want and need. You, you, you.

[cerisiere]

“Mais l'étoile qui brille deux fois plus fort brûle aussi moitié moins longtemps.”

— L'Empire du Vampire, Jay Kristoff

[redscorpiocat]

"A new year, an old journey comes to an end."

"However..."

"Once an old journey ends, a new one also begins"

"With the same old teammates,"

"With new upgraded powers,"

"And with people who support you,"

"And people who got your back,"

"You know you can face another journey with and without them"

"Maybe this is where the next journey begins"

[spacekrulesbians]

this is me swallowing my pride

A Briller Canon Divergence fic for @troped-fanfic-challenge

When Bryan realizes that he and Miller have differing ideas about Wonkru, he puts an end to their relationship before things get messy.   When he starts exchanging secret messages with someone, though, he begins to wonder if he acted too quickly.

1st Place for Theme!

Check for the link in the notes!