#verse tbt.

[wonyglow]

Meu sonho é irritar tanto uma pessoa até que ela me beije só pra eu calar a boca.

[lightcreators]

@sparklytimebun continue from here

Soma blinks, wondering where that came from. Was he happy? "What do you mean, Akechi-san?"

Ah, that question catching up off-guard, not really what he expected. Funny of him expecting things now, he thoughtfully mocked towards himself. ❝ Isn’t my question clear enough? Are you currently happy right now? ❞ He repeated, without giving him too much of a question if it’s was about generally, or with him --- ❝ That's definitely a concern that can rightfully be on my mind. ❞ Returning the question to itself, he would pretend he was … because there was no use to assuming or showing how reality truly was right away … although there was an slight inclination to be ready to reconsidering his own perspective.

[deathsmaidens]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐧; ⠀ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 .

ALL ARE WELCOME TO PARTICIPATE IN THE EPIPHANY OF ELATION — but not all are meant for it .

⤻ ⠀ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗨𝗗𝗘 ﹕ the definition of elation, according to milou mingate .

what does it mean to be elated? the pool of answers to this question is as vast as the cosmos itself. everyone has their own tale to tell, some more convoluted than others. nevertheless, you will never find two people saying the same thing.

for milou, the answer is complicated — as is the standard modus operandi for this woman. in this post, i’ll be going into more detail on milou’s definition of elation : what triggers it, how she experiences it, how she expresses it & how it affects her actions.

⤻ ⠀ 𝗔𝗖𝗧 I ﹕  recollecting the past .

to start things off, a quick recap on milou’s introspection: ⠀ at her core, milou is a deeply apathetic individual. stripped of all her different masks, you are left with a woman that teeters on the edge of spiralling into nihility. you can basically imagine ‘ nihility ’ being the foundation of your cake, ‘ elation ’ & everything else are the extras you put on top — like frosting or decorations, so the value increases & your cake sells better.

ELATION is initially a means to an end. it is a weapon she uses to fight against the despair of the void, as well as the origin of her character’s juxtaposition. she longs to embrace death; to let go of everything that tethers her to this world, for she has no reason to keep going. to exist means to suffer.

yet at the same time, milou is her own greatest adversary. to be precise, it is her own pride & pettiness that keeps her afloat. while her wish may be simple to fulfil on paper, under no circumstances will she be able to rest easy if she took the path of least resistance. even worse, she could never let herself be defeated by an aeon.

death is overruled by a woman that will die on her own terms. she treads on a fine line between life & death, although never truly belonging to either of them.

now, we come back to the original matter. what is elation to milou & what elicits this feeling within her? how does the elation become a weapon in her hand, fighting for the survival of her humanity?

⤻ ⠀ 𝗔𝗖𝗧 II ﹕  taking it to the extremes .

eliciting feelings of elation within milou is essentially to play a game of high risk, high reward. milou is a gambling woman; not recklessly impulsive per say, but known to primarily act in self-interest with her whimsy being the driving force in her decision making.

whenever milou partakes in risky behaviour, she cares little for collateral damage that exists in the aftermath of her actions. she thrives on chaos, quite literally drawing her essence of life from it. with that being said, milou’s endeavours don’t always come at the expense of others around her. if anything, she is the one that suffers the most from her behaviour.

in a way, milou’s idea of elation equals sabotaging & harming herself. to be an enigma to all she comes across & involving them in a game of deception is part of the fun, but it quickly becomes boring when people are too predictable for their own good. partly due to having walked down the path of nihility as far as she has, milou barely feels any physical sensation anymore. she’s numb, both mentally & physically, which also feeds back into her apathetic disposition towards life in general. what is the point of living if you are not able to feel anything? so, she must compensate ⠀ ⸺ ⠀ be it gambling, drinking, having sex or fighting. milou is constantly searching for anything that makes her feel alive; to feel human, no matter what it takes. yet one question remains ⠀ ⸺ ⠀ is the true elation found within the hunt or the prey?

this meta mostly looks into the original driving force behind milou & her actions. sometime in the future, i will make a post that expands on this & highlights how her stance shifted after becoming an emanator. to clarify; her goals ( for how little there are ) & motivations don’t change drastically, but it reinforces her already existing beliefs.

[opsequen]

Here he comes! He’s running, coming to a halt a mere hair’s breadth from Oswald. Before the other has any time to react, he throws his arms around him, nearly lifting him off the ground as he squeezes him tightly, cheek pressed against cheek.

“Oswald!! Oz! Ozzy!!”

Someone is clearly happy to see him.

unpromted asks / always accepting / @farspirit

oswald registers movement before he registers intent, a shift in air, the rapid approach of footsteps without hesitation or caution, a presence that does not slow as it enters his space but accelerates into it. his posture tightens a fraction, instinct aligning into readiness (not yet defense, but the prelude to it ) and then the impact comes, not as a strike, but as warmth.

arms around him, force enough to shift his balance, not quite lifting him, but threatening the boundary of toppling him. his hand moves on reflex, fingers half-curled as if to catch, restrain, redirect —— and stops. not because he cannot act, but because the situation refuses to align with any known category of threat.

the nicknames arrive in rapid succession, bright, unmeasured, entirely unconcerned with propriety or distance.

(even his niece doesn't call him that —— sure she named her toy rabbit oz but that is not the same !)

oswald does not return the embrace but he does not immediately push it away either. for a moment, he simply stands there, held, his body rigid in the way of a man who has spent years ensuring that contact is always deliberate, always controlled, never taken without consent. his gaze lowers slightly, not toward the prince’s face —— that is too close, too immediate —— but somewhere past his shoulder, as if attempting to reestablish orientation through distance that no longer exists. the cheek pressed to his own is… warm. distractingly so. alive in a way that does not ask permission to be noticed.

“ … your highness, ” oswald says in greeting at last, voice even, though a fraction slower than usual. his hand, still hovering uselessly at his side, shifts —— not quite rising, not quite settling —— before it comes to rest, carefully, against the prince’s shoulder. not returning the embrace, not rejecting it, simply acknowledging the point of contact as something that exists. there is a faint tension in his posture still, but it has altered, no longer the readiness of defense, but something more uncertain, recalibrating around a variable he had not accounted for.

“ … you should be more careful, ” he notes after a moment, as if that is the most relevant conclusion to draw from this. the justification is that the sun prince of the kingdom being in such proximity to the lord of the less than trusted, and frankly feared dukedom may look suspicious to others. oswald also suspects that his highness does not care one bit about that.

his fingers press once, lightly, against the prince’s shoulder before stilling again. he does not call him by name, but he does not remove him either. he is reported to him when it comes to rank, after all. or that is the justification, at least.

[habesuto]

"no more messing with people's organs! not unless they're attacking us!" (for kimi hehe)

"..."

After a moment, the bone-blade pressed against the grocer's belly retracts. Slowly. Petulantly. He will obey — but he does not like it.

Kimimaro's gaze glides from Sakura's back to the grocer Kimimaro holds by the front of his shirt several inches off the ground. Kimimaro's eyes narrow.

"Deny Lady Haruno again, and I will consider it a grievous attack on her person." His fist unclenches. The grocer hits the ground with a whimper. Kimimaro takes the flyer from Sakura's hand and drops it on the grocer's chest. "Scan her coupon, and know you live this day by her grace alone."

[predvestnik]

Everything's fine! Look, he can even get up.

...

Huh.

Promptly passes out, falling forward like a rotten log in the woods.

[orphiicheartd]

@glaciescustodia replied to your post:

Faruzan vc: what did you do (her face rn 😒)

           ・⊱ "Ah!" His face brightened up. "Well, I helped resolve a dispute!!"

[fenanera]

open starter; any verse !

Flame has never been his purview. Knitted together by shell and bone, aided by Her sea-salt touch, there are parts of him that will always belong to the sea. Only the stretch of time and practice have granted him mastery of calling fire to his hands, but it still feels at times as if he is siphoning heat through wet cloth no matter how fast it comes. It's led to many singed clothes — and many tedious campfires.

His frown is a flat line, studying the mess of unlit kindling at his feet. After such a long day, he'd sooner chuck a match into the sticks and let the breeze do the rest. If not for the protesting of his Pride, he might — or maybe fein a headache and have someone else deal with it. But he hadn't gotten this far in life by not being stubborn. Solas' fingers flex and coax heat to scratch against the air once more — and a small spark finally catches, razing quickly into a steady, modest fire. His frown quirks into a satisfied smile. "There — that should do well enough."