#introspective piece

[crescencee]

new fic about Present Mic :) first one I've posted for the fandom, so here we go

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

small snippet:

[eudaimonia3301]

Ouroboros (A Tim Drake Introspection Piece)

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Ouroboros (noun)

Definition: An ancient symbol depicting a serpent or dragon eating its own tail, representing the cycle of life, death, and rebirth, as well as the concept of infinity, self-reflexivity, and the eternal return.

[silentvoicescryingout]

Hana

Ino loved Sakura through all her phases–sometimes from up close, and sometimes from afar. Sometimes her love was sweet and bright, like dango-sticks. Other times it drilled deep into parts of her that were dark, cold and dampened like the underlayers of scorched, fertile soil. 

She loved things from their beginning, loved them to their end once or twice.

Her mother had told her she was simply made that way–born with soil in one hand, and seeds in the other, always looking for places to plant roots, seeking new lives to nurture and tend to. A true florist's daughter, able to coax even the shyest petals to unfurl in the light with the gentle strength of her hands. Some were poisonous, some healing and others that could provide sustenance and strength.

From the day she first laid eyes on a girl with cherry blossom hair and rose petal cheeks, lily pad eyes and a cherry-like mouth, it was as if all she dreamed of was spring. 

Sakura. 

She tended to her with more care than she gave to any of the other beings that grew in her garden. She was Ino’s special blossom, which at the beginning needed consistent attention and murmured words to coax quivering buds to spread open fragile petals. Her project of passion that could so easily be scared into dormancy by a strong breeze or droplet of icy water.

She fertilized her soil with her own two hands, imbuing confidence, grit, nutrients of character. She showered her with praises, moistening delicate stems so they might grow firmer, stronger to withstand the harsh winds of harsher words and cutting gazes. 

Ino watched and waited, cradled her close and stiffened her spine when she wilted, when she cried her petals dry. Some days, she wanted to keep her in glass, protect her in full bloom, for people to admire but only herself to reach in and feel.

She pushed when all she wanted was to pull closer, forcing herself away from this sprouting blossom she’d planted, watching as her roots burrow deeper, spread farther than just her own garden. And, oh, did she bloom: a wild thing invading outside soils, rooting itself and taking shape in so many other peoples’ hearts.

And when she was torn, uprooted by his traumas and psychotic machinations, Ino was there once more. Cradling her in gentle hands, carefully replanting. She became sunlight, and drowned her cherry blossom in it. She poured and poured, until Sakura no longer wilted, until the stems thickened and petals unfurled in the brightest shade of pink she had ever seen.

When the day came that the earth split and fell open under their feet and the sky bled with the tears of a thousand lifetimes, she finally looked with her eyes instead of searching for meaning with her planter’s hands.

Ino saw Sakura in a way she had never before. She realized that her blossom, her beloved flower, thrived best under conditions that she was not able to provide. No matter the ways in which she tended her, shielded her (and trimmed away at her, clipped her stems) she grew, stretching higher, branching wide and bright in the nighttime, face upturned to the dark, luminescence of a stoic night sky.

So, she watched as the flower was plucked from her garden, silencing the cries of her aching heart and focusing instead on the way those blood-stained hands handled the blossoms with such care, fingers scarred and gnarled, stroking against those vibrant petals oh so gently. 

She would be planted elsewhere to sweeten the worlds with her fragrance; she could only hope it was under the widest and starriest of skies.

Yugao, Ino mused— breathless as she watched him watch her, with those deep, dark, eyes— would have been a better name for a woman who blossomed as Sakura did, under the dark gray and lavender sides of the moon.

Tag list: @ephemeredoll @lezzxe @psalloacappella

[izukillme-moved]

Cana

Cana Alberona is many things.

She is secretive, possessive, a woman who drowns her sorrows in amber. She is loud and rambunctious and crazy, the life of the party, the soulless person who tramps home alone with the only company for her as a bottle.

This is Cana Alberona, to those who do not know her.

But again, Cana is many things.

She is strange and interesting and a talented wizard. She is the song of Dionysus’ coven of drunken revelry that echoes through the forests at night and scares off the weak-hearted. She is pretty and calm and relaxed, just like the rest of her loony guild. She is larger-than-life in personality and in heart.

This is Cana Alberona, to those who know of her, who have met and known her a little bit.

And still there are more layers to her.

She is fast and fierce and wild and beautiful. She is scared of herself and scared of not meeting her own expectations that she sets so high. She is the daughter of Gildarts Clive and equally adroit on the battlefield. She is powerful and brave and everything she thinks she could never be.

This is Cana Alberona, to those who love her.

This is Cana Alberona of Fairy Tail.

This is Cana Alberona, to Fairy Tail.

--

Part 2 of "An Ode to FT Women". Next up: Lisanna.

[kitkatt0430]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Rip Hunter, Sara Lance, Barry Allen, Gideon (DC's Legends of Tomorrow), Mick Rory Additional Tags: Rip Hunter as a kid, Rip Hunter Needs a Hug, Abuse, learning to recognize abuse, the Refuge is not actually the nice place Rip thought it was, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Linear Narrative, therapy is a useful tool Series: Part 1 of Rip Hunter Appreciation Week 2019 Summary:

Rip Hunter is a former Time Master and a Legend and trying ever so hard to be above it all. But that's hard to accomplish when, beneath it all, he still feels like he's that frightened, angry, cutpurse he was as a child.

@ripappreciationweek here’s a day one story about Rip coming to terms with himself as Michael and as a Time Master and not being sure what his future is supposed to be now.  Sticks to season 1 only

[konekotaichou]

@sasoriweek Day 2 is here! 🙌🦂

For this one, I decided to delve more into Sasori's past and how his mind could process his traumas in a way that led him down the path he eventually took 😅

The prompts were Haunted/Alone

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[drag-oon23]

Prey Drabble

It was Morgan, but it was also not. It was not human or Typhon. It was unique.

Mirror Neurons. It didn’t fully understand them, but it understood that those were the reason why it felt things.

Empathy. It has lived for eons and never known such a thing. It didn’t understand it. It had devoured countless lives but none mattered before it encountered those called humans. It only recognize those of the typhon and those not of the typhon.

The name Morgan stuck to it like ill fitted skin. But the name suited it’s purpose it supposed. The one named Alex asked it to save the human race. It agreed though it didn’t know why. It looked at it’s hand and didn’t understand what it felt when it’s skin faded back to it’s native black smooth tendrils configuration. It’s true self, and yet not. The memories of Morgan are so interwoven into it’s behing that it feels uncomfortable to be not mimic human appearance for long periods of time. It turned it’s hand back to human shape with human skin.

It looked out from the rooftop to see the city. The yellow tendrils curved around buildings, illuminating and tempting. It could hear the voices of its brethren, a constant need to feed, to multiple, and to spread. It understood what it was feeling then: Dread and appreciation. It was beautiful and it could feel its hand regressing back to the black tendrils. It shook its head and glared at the arm until it morphed back. It was no longer part of the collective. It was Morgan of the humans now. Morgan didn’t fully understand what “human” was suppose to entail, but she had a new mission now.

Morgan shook herself and listened as Alex gave her directives. She leapt off the building and got back to work.

[rustyhubris]

I accidentally made a long tag post that I'm going to keep up, but I shall continue my sentiments here:

I am super happy with my weight loss and I think it's a key reason to why people are noticing me being "happier" and "more confident". I think another part of the confidence thing is that there are no senior students at my school that I'm nervous about seeming cool/likeable. I feel that much freer to be me, and in doing so I have matured a fair bit, I think. I've made closer connections with friends, and have realised that everyone in our group in smart however there are several places in which more understanding or empathy could be employed. Hearing fairly fatphobic things being said by a friend of mine, realising that I am probably the most sex positive person in our group even though I'm the only one who's never been in a single close relationship, all of the hypocritical pessimistic things people in my grade are saying about our theatre program at school; I'm getting pretty fucking fed up and I have almost no one to rant to. Plus, there are a few of my irl peeps who read up on this stuff (hello!) so I can't be super fucking brutal (not that I really want to be, none of you guys are at such a fault). Talking to myself in the shower only goes so far to ease my frustrations with the world I've thought myself into. Another thing I've noticed is how I'm a bit more confident than my parents are- in some weird series of events. I think  it mostly has to do with the fact that my parents have next to no social life outside of church stuff, and are just such nerds at the core of their being. I'm a nerd too, and I'm introverted, and I probably have an anxiety disorder, but I'm able to hold a pleasant and/or entertaining conversation at a party far better than they can. 

So yeah. I've lost weight, I'm feeling confident, I'm trying to figure out my place amongst other people in this strange world of ours, and I think I'm doing ok.

Hopefully I don't jinx myself.

PS: Also, I'm kind of worried about my future abilities to find a partner because so far it sems to be an endless cycle of me fucking myself over. Tune in for next week's episode of Pachi's Never Ending Rom-com Fuckfest (WITH 0% ACTUAL FUCKFESTS)