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#soul weather
lovesicksummer · 1 year
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may arrived
she hugged me along with her flowers and whispered everything is fine
may is here and life makes sense again
may, may, may, may, may, may, may, may, may;
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forged-in-kaoss · 2 months
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Every person directly freed by Luffy, Warrior of Liberation, the man who will be Pirate King! [or on his orders]
Zoro
Nami
A lapahn from Drum Island
Robin
Brook
Hatchan "Hachi"
Camie
Marguerite [and Aphelandra and Sweat Pea]
Jinbe
Crocodile
Ace
Shirahoshi
Kin'emon
Rebecca
Law
The Vinsmokes
Tama [twice]
Hyogoro
Yamato
Vegapunk
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wolfsyndrome · 6 months
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i love you rain. i love you orange leaves. i love you overcast skies. i love you mossy stones. i love you willow trees. i love you streams. i love you berry bushes. i love you dirt paths. i love you grassy hills.
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raina-at · 3 days
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Weather
As those of you who follow my May ficlets surely know by now, I’ve set myself an unofficial goal to hit all of my AUs. So today I’m picking my quasi Narina AU called Lost Souls that, like, five people have read. This fic is what happens when I read Outlander, see Narnia, and read teenlock. (Tl,DR context for this ficlet: Sherlock and John are stuck in another dimension, that’s pretty much all you need to know. Also, they’re both about 18-20 in this ficlet, John is a medic, and Sherlock is working for local law enforcement)
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Weather, John thinks as he shakes out his umbrella, will never be a selling point of the British Isles, no matter in which dimension, no matter what they’re called. Sherlock gave him a long speech once about climate and sea levels and geology all being pretty much identical here, compared to the England they grew up in, so it stands to reason that the weather is equally rotten.
Well, since John has spent his entire life in England and then on the equivalent on Dera, he’s bloody well used to it.
Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though. 
He can handle rain and fog and everything in between. What he doesn’t like is when a day starts out beautiful and sunny and ends up in a deluge of truly epic proportions. He’s not that wet, because he was smart enough to stay at the clinic until the worst was over, but his coat will take ages to dry, and he dislikes the smell of drying wool. 
He’s just getting warm again, sitting on the sofa by the fire and enjoying a nice cuppa and the first chapter of a new novel Molly lent him when the door to their flat bangs open.
John turns around and starts laughing uncontrollably.
The thing about Sherlock is, he’s always gorgeous. But right now, soaked to the skin in his dark wool coat, hair wet and plastered to his head, dripping on the floor and wearing a pissy expression, he looks like nothing so much as a drowned cat. Specifically Toby, Molly’s black tomcat.
Sherlock glares at John, which makes the resemblance to a pissed off cat even greater. 
“I fail to see what’s so funny,” Sherlock grumps as he stalks into the sitting room, shedding his coat as he goes, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy splat.
“You look like Toby, that one time he fell into the suds bucket at the morgue,” John says between giggles. 
“I do not!” Sherlock all but hisses, which sets off John even more.
“Oh my god, now you sound like him too!”
Sherlock glares at him, then something in his eyes changes. He stalks over to John, who’s still on the sofa, and sits down straight in his lap.
“Oh my god, you’re cold!” John yelps, as the water dripping from Sherlock’s clothes start soaking through his trousers and shirt immediately.
“Warm me up, then,” Sherlock says, shaking his head so water droplets land all over John.
John laughs. “Great, now I’m getting wet because you don’t have the sense God gave small children to stay inside when it’s pouring outside.”
“Staying in just because it’s raining is boring, John,” Sherlock says, reeling John in and pressing his entire wet torso against John’s.  “You don’t want me catching cold, do you, Doctor?” Sherlock murmurs into John’s ear. Sherlock’s closeness, the whisper of breath against John’s ear, and Sherlock using his still very new title all together make John reconcile with the situation very quickly. The fact that he, the sofa, and the floor are getting soaked are of very minor importance compared to a wet, gorgeous and mischievous Sherlock Holmes in his lap.
He threads his fingers into Sherlock’s wet hair and pulls him in for a kiss. Sherlock tastes of rain and fresh air and pastries. “Mrs Hudson is baking?” John asks, pulling back a little.
“Very good,” Sherlock says, grinning at John, an obvious challenge sparking in his eyes and in the corner of his smile. “What else?”
John grins. Two can play this game, my friend, he thinks. He noses along Sherlock’s throat, smelling rain and traces of their soap and the faint trace of canal. He licks a few raindrops from Sherlock’s neck, and Sherlock gasps. “You went to see Billy.”
“Conjecture,” Sherlock murmurs, dipping his head back to give John better access to his neck.
“Fact,” John answers, sinking his teeth playfully into the taut muscle of Sherlock’s enticing throat. “You smell like the river,” he whispers, as he dips his tongue into Sherlock’s ear.
Sherlock moans, and John grins into Sherlock’s skin. It took them a good while to find their stride, physically speaking, given that neither of them had an inkling of an idea what they were doing. But by now John knows Sherlock’s body so well, he knows exactly which strings to pluck.
“What else?” Sherlock asks, his voice no longer quite steady.
John draws back, surveying Sherlock like he’s a crime scene, knowing that this sort of scrutiny will turn Sherlock on even more. He kisses Sherlock again, licking deep into his mouth, chasing taste and sensation. He licks the corner of Sherlock’s mouth, and Sherlock moans around John’s tongue, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss, but John moves back, putting a finger over Sherlock’s mouth. “Moff’s bakery. Powdered birch sugar, you were at the doughnuts again.”
Sherlock nods, pulling at John for more kisses. John happily obliges.
“One more,” Sherlock whispers against John’s lips.
John grins and draws back a little. He runs his hands under Sherlock’s sopping wet suit jacket, pushing it off Sherlock’s shoulders as he fleeces the pockets. Nothing of interest. Then he unbuttons Sherlock’s waistcoat, one button at the time. Sherlock’s shirt is sticking to his skin, almost translucent, and John can’t resist mouthing at the taut nipple outlined under the fabric, even as he deftly checks the pockets of Sherlock’s waistcoat for clues. The rain-soaked shirt and Sherlock’s warm skin beneath, Sherlock’s hands carding through his hair, holding his head to Sherlock’s chest, and the encouraging noises Sherlock is making are almost enough to drive the game from John’s mind.
But only almost. Because Sherlock’s shirt smells of beeswax and dusty shelves. “Library,” he murmurs around Sherlock’s nipple, grazing the delectable nub with his teeth.
Sherlock gasps and pulls John up for a searing kiss. John grins against Sherlock’s lips.
Game over, then, he thinks. I won. “Are you getting warmer, love?”
“Shut up,” Sherlock says, dipping them back to the sofa, trapping John under himself, pressing his entire wet, warm, enticing body against John’s.
John grins. “Make me.”
Sherlock’s eyes darken. “Not a problem.”
As Sherlock moves in to kiss the very thoughts out of John’s head, John thinks, Oh, I definitely won, before he surrenders entirely to the force of nature that is Sherlock unleashed. Thank god for rain. 
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Tags under the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.
@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown
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heavenlyyshecomes · 10 months
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Never understood people who are like 'oh I hate making small talk we shouldn't be expected to" like trust me your inability to carry a basic conversation is more exhausting to the other person than it is to you
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eiilese · 2 years
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done with whole cake island!!!
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strawberryteabunny · 1 month
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magnolias 🌸 and a little picnic by the creek 🧺
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sneeb-canons · 6 months
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Whenever whole has a headache it feels like an earthquake to hms
Headcanon #266
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naksushadows · 8 months
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Lee Jae Wook the versatile actor that you are ✨
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forged-in-kaoss · 5 months
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The Sun God and his fearsome crew of Monsters
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character-estudio · 3 months
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a collection vintage music with eerie undertones that I imagine alastor would play on his radio broadcast, and some classic louisiana jazz that ties into creole roots.
↳Hazbin Hotel Full Playlist found here
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clownexpert · 2 years
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silly lil doodles
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downfalldestiny · 8 months
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Describe 🌊☁️ !.
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lilkittystardust · 10 months
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Bikini weather or whatever 🫶🏼🥴😘
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starry-blue-echoes · 9 months
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Hey would you be interested in the idea of Pucci and Weather being swapped? As in the mother took Enrico instead of Domenico.
👀👀👀👀👀👀👀
that's honestly a really interesting idea because of how much and how little it might change things because like. This does bring into question how their interests and desires would change what they do and want, not to mention how there were some aspects of the situation that were specific to them
For example, would Pucci still want be a priest? And if he did, would he still end up hearing his "mother" confess her sins in the confessional booth? Would he even take interest in Perla???
And Domenico? What about him? Off the top of my head I can't think of any way to learn the truth of Pucci's relationship, so would he even learn at all? Not to mention, Domenico's style is more to confront things outright, so the racist detective agency likely wouldn't even get involved
Honestly, the only thing that stays somewhat intact is Pucci meeting with Dio and obtaining the Arrow, which leads me to how I think the AU will go
simply put, there is no tragedy. Pucci never crosses paths with Perla and Domenico never learns of Pucci's relation to him.......
or at least at first
let's say Pucci ends up accidentally cuts himself on the arrow one day. After all, he did keep it in his pocket unwrapped, it was only a matter of time for him to accidentally cut himself. He falls ill temporaily, but after a few hours ends up bouncing back and now with the addition of a weird spirit buddy who only he can see
however, unbeknownst to him across town Domenico collapsed at the exact same time, burning up from a fever, and was seemingly miraculously healed hours later also with a weird spirit buddy
and well....... Stand Users are attracted to each other after all
it starts as little things. Passing eachother in the street, going to the same diners at the same times, so on so forth, and it was honestly only a matter of time before it was revealed they both had Stands. Their "friendship" was definitly one that sparked out of nessecity rather then actually having anything in common, but with the both of them desperate for anyone who could prove they weren't crazy, they took it
and honestly, I can see their friendship being more "frenemies" in the begining. They don't hate eachother, but they didn't quite get along. Maybe for some fun :) something that really starts to bring them together is meeting another Stand User who has...... less that pure intentions and almost killed them, and they had to work together to fight them off? But yeah after that, their friendship becomes more..... solid, so to speak
the truth of their relationship is going to be a fun reveal, especially since I doubt Pucci's mother would forget the name of the family whom she stole a whole ass child from, so learning Pucci and the family's remaining son had become close friends? That's going to stress her out immensely, and it does raise the question of whether she tells Pucci vs Pucci finding out
I'll admit, I'm not fully sure how Dio falls into things here. Maybe if things go the route of Pucci Finding Out, it could lead to him running away from home and seeking out Dio? But that might be a bit too much of a reaction, so maybe some added layer of tragedy happens ontop of the reveal too
however, the why and how aside, Domenico is 100% chasing after him, he's not going to let his Bestie go off all by himself
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saranghae-jaewook · 1 year
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Jae Wook, you're going to be the death of me 😭💖
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