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sakkiichi · 8 months

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CASTLES CRUMBLING.

Memories of you are both cathartic and painful when he visits your grave.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Xiao, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Lyney, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: angst.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

Autumn. The time of year that brought warm memories to the wandering samurai despite its chilly winds.

Shades of scarlet coated Inazuma’s grassy plains, like a rain constituted by droplets of dawn light when the maple leaves swayed to the ground.

And amidst this scene, you.

You, who danced to the tune of the foliage floating in the breeze; you, who snuggled his red scarf closer around your neck when he wrapped it around you, taking in his sweet cinnamon-like scent; you, whose hand used to fit perfectly in his, as you ran your thumb over the scarred skin under his bandages.

Kazuha finds himself staring at those now. He remembers all too well how you used to wrap them around his hand. Your lips brushed over every indentation in his burnt skin, overwriting storms with sunlight and blue skies.

“All healed now.” You sing-sang, the tenderness of your kiss over the wrapped scars.

It feels empty now, his grasp, still searching for you every morning, but you’re out of reach.

Even now, as the wandering poet’s head rests against you, he can’t quite feel your touch.

“Hello, my dove.” He begins, fingers brushing over the dendrobiums surrounding you. Moondust lashes kiss his cheeks when the sunsets in his stare cloud over, the image of your smiling face behind his lids. “It’s already autumn, remember how you called it our season, my angel?” He softly says, turning his head slightly, so that his forehead partially leans on you. “The leaves are turning red already, I’ve picked some for you.” Kazuha utters, as he gently threads them around the stone.

Hard. Cold. So unlike the warmth you radiated. He sighs, opening his eyes, tender hearths to warm your paralyzed heart.

“I’ve been writing too…” Dampness pools around his lashes. “Haikus, poems, because I know you love them, hummingbird…” The samurai’s voice cracks, vision blurry, as he traces the letters of the name he used to breathe in between kisses.

Your name. The only one that will forever echo through his sweetest dreams, double edged now.

Droplets of molten moonlight slide down Kazuha’s cheeks, colliding with the earth separating you from the world.

“We will meet again, my dove.” He vows, kneeling on the grass, moist by his tears. “In some corner of the next life. I promise, love.”

As he stands up, retracing his steps, the wind picks up.

Kazuha clutches his red scarf closer to him.

Your scent still lingers.

✧ XIAO

Spring had never felt so cold.

The sun over Liyue’s mountains is too dull; the glaze lilies appear closed off; the days feel too long.

The conqueror of demons makes his way through Guili Plains, his steps slow, as if that would keep away a cruel reality that’s set in stone.

He’s coming to meet you, and yet he’s never felt so far away from you.

In the few steps that separate the yaksha from you, an infinity of memories and bittersweet dreams seem to wash over him. They mingle with the scent of morning dew over qingxins bloomed anew.

Qingxin. What he used to call you.

“Xiaooo!” You cooed, a smile sweeter than the treat you offered him alight on your lips. “Dessert’s ready, love.” You called, offering him the plate of delicious almond tofu.

It was always his favorite, especially the one made by you.

His cheeks took on a tint not unlike the lipstick marks you left on him when you felt like teasing him, peppering his face with your honeyed kisses. You always used to chuckle at the sight.

“Qingxin…” his voice quivered, in awe, gaze of gold widened, sparkly. “There is no need for you to go through this trouble for me…”

“Nonsense!” You cut him off, hands cradling his cheeks. “I love making your favorite food for you, baby.”

Now he brings one of his own scarred hands to his face.

It’s so cold in comparison to your comforting warmth.

Yet even colder is the grey hue of the heavy stone that comes into view: the one marking the spot where you were laid to rest for good.

Slowly, resigned to the inevitability of reality, the vigilant yaksha reaches you.

Even though he knows he will no longer have you.

Xiao’s whole form trembles when he leaves the handmade butterfly over your gravestone. Its petal wings are all crooked, his grip vice-like in his anguish.

Now the flower-made insect will never fly again. A crystal bubble, lit up on his darkest nights, inside which dreams warm and sweet were recounted, as long as the adeptus stayed in your embrace; now shattered, only sharp fragments left to pierce his heart.

“I’m sorry…” is all the demon conqueror can manage as greeting, the moment he sits before you, head hung low.

The karma he bears had never crushed him this badly.

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Winter squalls leave nothing but ashes behind.

The layers of snow have started melting, decrepit twigs following, the aftermath of a furious gale, death in its wake.

The wanderer seems to verse in the bony hands of it often, after all. This life, this world… they only ever took from him, shattered mirrors as the only remains of promises to never come.

He rests the back of his head on the frigid stone. He doesn’t care about the last remains of snow seeping into his very crafted bones.

Scaramouche’s hand closes into a fist, dirt and melted ice on his skin.

“They took you away too…” The puppet breathes, inexistent puffs of his words sifting against the blackened skies in the cold. His indigo gaze is clouded over, despite stars littering every corner of the midnight above.

A lie.

Make believe. Like thinking he could be happy for once.

Turning around, Scaramouche presses his forehead against what’s left to symbolize you.

“Why?” He asks, teeth gritted, to stop the helpless quiver of his lip. “Why you too?”

The softness of your human embrace takes ahold of his memories, as you both lay beneath the endless firmament above.

“Have you ever wished upon a star, Kuni?” You asked, your warm fingers combing through the distant nights contained in his shiny locks.

“Pft, are you serious?” He used to retort, the mirrored galaxies of his stare coming into view as his eyelids opened.

“Very.” You stated, without stopping your movements, eyes never leaving the starfields above.

“Why?” He asked, focused on your profile, as if a part of him knew how ephemeral instants like this would become, committing to memory the only constellation that lit up his hollow heart.

“Because it’s nice, to hope, to believe in things… wouldn’t you agree?” You smiled down at him, tender hands cradling the coolness of his jawline.

“Huh, if you say so…”

“You know I’m right!” You chuckled, poking his cheek playfully, his nose scrunching up in feigned annoyance.

“Ugh, whatever.”

“Make a wish?” Your fingers found his in the night breeze, entwining together, the warmth of a small sun just for him.

“Fine…” He sighed, closing his eyes, lashes of concealed dreams leaning on his perfect cheekbones.

“I wished for forever with you.” He croaks out now.

An almost god brought to his knees by the treacherous fate written in devious stars.

His vision blurs, headed skyward, the universe above, a multitude of molten wildfires to him, raining down in flammable rain, his own tears the match to ignite them.

The failed god weeps. Winter burns.

✧ LYNEY

“You never know what can happen in the blink of an eye.”

Those were the words the magician once uttered, as your eyes lit up in wonder. He believes to recall it was a summer night, when his dusky gaze set on you for the first time.

Beaming and shining with excitement, you marveled at his sleight of hand, as the lumidouce bell on the performer’s hand vanished, only for its petals to have tinted in rosy shades of rainbow when the bloom next appeared in your hair.

If anyone had told Lyney, in that moment, that you’d end up putting his heart under spell, he wouldn’t have quite believed it.

But thinking back on it now, the time spent next to you certainly feels like mere seconds.

A peculiar figure sporting a top hat makes his way towards Fontaine’s graveyard.

His steps are monotone, the usual cheshire-like grin on his visage is nowhere to be seen, and in his hands, flowers abound.

Lumidouce bells.

The color of goodbyes, separations.

And the summer nights under which he used to kiss you.

“Please, Lyney! I want to see another one!” You begged, hands clasped together, eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.

Your lover hums, his gaze, the backdrop against which the sunsets in your stare sparkled.

“Well, mon coeur,” the magician leaned forward, “I’ll have to charge you for it this time, you know.”

You pouted, marcotte colored lips irresistibly sweet, a bite of sugary peach in the heat of an early midsummer’s night.

“Close your eyes, my rose.” Lyney breathed, in the little dusk-lit millimeters separating you two.

“Okay.”

Warmth flooded around him the instant his lips enveloped yours, akin to fairy lights in the coziness of a familiar room, fiery arrows that linked two hearts. Your lover’s hands cupped your jawline, spells written in the caress of his gloved touch over your skin.

A new breed of magic, with the sun dipping behind the nation of hydro’s mountains to give the lovers privacy.

When he next opens his eyes, the allure has faded.

No trace of you remains, save for the emptiness and cold beside him.

And the only nightmare he can’t undo; your tombstone all too palpable, too real.

“You really never know how everything can change in the blink of an eye, huh?” Lyney utters, his voice raw, hoarse.

Despite the lumidouce bells’ petals shifting from dusk to dawn the moment he lays them to rest over you, the magician feels like he’s shooting arrows made of shadows; there’s no fiery beacon to light up this night.

The curtain closes when he steps away, rainbow roses bleeding and lonely in his wake.

The sun has set.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Off-key birdsong and steely skies.

Those are Fontaine’s Chief Justice’s companions today.

Alone, he sits next to the ghost of someone he used to adore.

Someone he still loves.

Crystalline amethyst eyes scan the horizon. Even the seas seem turbulent today, relentless waves colliding against jutting rocks, as if by persistence alone they could cut through them.

The wailing ocean mirrors Neuvillette’s actions; as if by staring in the distance, he could somehow conjure you up back into the world, on forgotten dreams and pieces of flashbacks alone.

“It looks like it will rain soon, my dearest.” He softly says, the words lost in the monsoon overcasting the heavens.

Naturally, no answer follows, except for the agonized cry of a fallen sparrow.

The Iudex of Fontaine sighs. An upheaval in the blowing mistral combs through his hair, the sensation unlocking the pages of a diary once rose-colored, now only scattered petals over a lake that’s gone still for good.

“Isn’t the weather so nice lately, Neuvi?” You chirped, knees folded over the azure flowerbeds. Your hands were carded through your lover’s long locks, silver seafoam running almost hypnotizingly between your fingers.

Sunbeams glittered all around you when his eyes opened up to you, enigmas from the depths being laid bare for you alone.

“It is, darling…” He trailed off, one of his hands touching the side of your face, eliciting giggles from you.

Pink dusted over the pallor of his cheeks whenever you did that.

If only all days could be sunny, if only he could have kept the symphony of your laugh forever playing…

The sea’s surface turns charcoal, undulating with the low whistling of uprising gales.

Dark spots start appearing over the stone where your name’s been eternally put to sleep.

Beneath the blindfold, Justice mourns.

It’s raining again.

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diejager · 4 months

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if you don't mind can i ask for your take on civilian s/o and yandere makarov? i wonder how he behave around an s/o who's like the opposite of him (like they're kind, gentle and has not known violence ever). hcs or short scenario or anything depends on you i don't mind (there's a drought of makarov content tbh 😮‍💨).

thanks for considering this and please take your time. have a good day 😚.

”Love” Cw: manipulation, obsessive behaviour, delusions of love, humain training, forceful taking, verbal abuse, tell me if I missed any.

Makarov doesn’t love. He knew how to, but he never truly did. He couldn’t with the heart and mind he grew up cultivating, to build his empire and strength, dwindling his heart’s empathy. Ironically, such ignorance towards love only increased his obsession, the amount of it that would only climb higher and higher, because in a sense, the loss of such emotions lead to a loss of a limit, driving him to insane lengths to achieve what he had his mind on.

He only knew death and bloodshed, the destruction of the mundane and corruption of the innocent, being the source of the rot and decay in the cells of a flower, to make it wilt and dust. Perhaps that’s where his interest in the normal stemmed, that curiosity that would someday bloom into obsession. He searched for an object of obsession, something - someone - to put all this attention on, something tangible, solid under his hands and malleable to his intentions. Despite his lack of time to dawdle, to spend on meaningless affairs, he found the perfect subject, someone so starkly different from him and his world.

There was a dichotomy in Makarov’s world, the harshness of war, battle and conquering of countries, and the deceptive softness in his eyes, the gentle touch of his scarred and calloused hands, and the coo with his sly tongue. You were the only softness in his life, a civilian he -one day - decided to pick up from the streets, bright-eyed and innocent to the horror he saw and spear-headed. Your tired eyes untouched by his mind and your scarless body free of any conflict that he could start with a simple wave of his hand.

There’s a need in his mind to see this innocence wilt away, to pry your mind of any autonomy and freedom you’ve lived with. Makarov wanted a doll, something soft and precious he could corrupt with words and ruin with his hands, deceptively gentle and loving, a poem spilling from a cruel smirk and eyes gleaming darkly. He has his ways to turn you into a thing of his imagination, to make you into his willing Russian doll, layer over layer of maliciousness and subservience.

He’s a man of culture, letting the people under him do all the dirty work. Despite all the viciousness and madness in his being, he doesn’t hit, he doesn’t abuse the object of his obsession, that was reserved for men lower than him, poor and mindless men. Rather, he preferred manipulation, well-thought words used in right situation to have you crawling back to him for safety, protection and comfort. He wanted you to come to him on your own, to make your pliant and uncaring of the wider view. He, after all, took you for himself, to endure himself in a second source of power.

Makarov has a silver tongue, whispering words into your ears that take root, your doubts and fears growing in the depth of your heart, bringing you closer to the man who promised to protect you. His fingers wiping away your tearful cheeks, pearly gems rolling down your cheek as he teases you about being worried. You shouldn’t be so fearful with him beside you, he’s your warden, your all-powerful and dependable lover.

He won’t let a shred of suspicion towards him fester, it’ll be dealt with swiftly with the call of your name, breaking down your vulnerable mind and building it back up in his image, his opinions were yours, his thoughts were yours, his goals were yours. So much so that you were his, knowing fundamentally that whatever he said goes.

”мой маленький цветок,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against yours, hands soft but wandering, laying down chains over your waist, around your dainty wrists and tightening the collar around your neck, keeping the hold on your mind, “You did so well, I’m proud of you.”

Positive reinforcement. He often used positive reinforcement to deepen his hold, to sink his teeth into your clean soul. Sweetened words with a voice he taught you to crave and possessive touches of bloody hands with intentions that he blinded you of, finding a way to make you want them.

“What do you say?” His hand traveled up your jaw, featherlight fingers cradling your ear and cheek until it stopped under your chin, tilting your head to look at his narrowed eyes, proud and dark.

“Thank you, Vladimir.”

He smiled, a thin-lipped grin.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw3 makarov #cod makarov #call of duty makarov #makarov #vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov x reader #makarov x reader #makarov x you #vladimir makarov cod #vladimir makarov x you #dark fic #tw: manipulation #tw: abuse #dead dove do not eat

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not-wholly-unheroic · 1 year

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50 Random Character Asks:

1. Canon I outright reject

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

3. Obscure headcanon

4. Favorite line

5. Best personality trait

6. Worst personality trait

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

8. Unpopular opinion about them

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

11. Faceclaim for the role

12. Crack headcanon

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

14. Most heroic moment

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

19. Vices/bad habits

20. Scars

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

22. Best physical feature

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

24. Most annoying habit

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

27. Their guilty pleasure

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

29. Eating habits

30. Sleeping habits

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.—can specify as many as you like)

35. Their idea of a perfect day

36. Their favorite season

37. What they really think about themselves

38. Favorite holiday

39. Favorite game

40. Favorite book

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

42. 3 comfort items

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

44. Their happiest memory

45. Their favorite celebrity

46. The person they most admire

47. Their dream job

48. Scariest moment of their life

49. Favorite toy as a child

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

#ask me about the boy!!!#but also you can ask about anyone from the fandom #ask meme #character asks #character ask meme #asks #fandom asks #fandom ask meme #get to know the muse #muse asks #muse memes

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st4rtar0t · 7 months

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Describing your love story in a poem 🪄

These poems belong to me and me only. If you're going to use them please give credits.

Please like and share to show your love and support

Pick a picture from below

Picture one

In a world where love was doubted, they stood strong,

Two hearts scarred by life, they'd been through so wrong.

Neither believed in love, for they'd felt its cruel art,

But fate had a different plan, to mend each broken part.

In secret they met, their love a hidden treasure,

Family reasons kept them quiet, a clandestine pleasure.

They faced the world's judgments, their love held the key,

For in each other's arms, they found what was meant to be.

Through trials and tribulations, they clung to one another,

Defying all odds, they knew love like no other.

And as time passed by, hearts began to mend,

Their love story grew strong, no need to pretend.

The day finally came, when they could stand tall,

No longer hidden in shadows, they broke down the wall.

Family and friends, once doubtful and wary,

Now embraced their love, a bond they'd no longer bury.

So remember this tale of love, both tender and true,

For even in darkness, love can find its way through.

No matter the odds or the trials they may face,

Love conquers all, with its warm, sweet embrace.

Picture two

In a world of noise, they found their space,

Two souls seeking solace, in a silent embrace.

Not themselves entirely, till they crossed the line,

From friendship to love, a love so divine.

Their journey began with laughter and cheer,

As friends, they stood by, year after year.

But beneath the surface, a connection did grow,

A love that was patient, steady, and slow.

Together they conquered, hand in hand they soared,

In the face of challenges, they were never floored.

Supporting each other, they reached for the sky,

Their dreams intertwined, reaching oh so high.

Boredom was a stranger when they were side by side,

In silence, in laughter, in tears they'd confide.

No judgments were passed, no masks to wear,

In each other's company, they found love's tender care.

Their love story unique, a treasure to behold,

Two souls finding peace, their hearts made of gold.

From friendship to love, they'd forever be,

An epitome of love, for all to see.

Picture three

In a world where love's path seemed twisted and long,

Two hearts, once broken, sang a different song.

They'd been through the hurt, the tears, and the pain,

But little did they know, it wasn't in vain.

Searching for love, they'd both been around,

But it seemed that true love couldn't be found.

Heartbreaks and lessons, they gathered like gold,

Each one a story, a chapter to be told.

Then fate intervened, brought them face to face,

In each other's arms, they found their safe place.

They looked in each other's eyes, and they knew,

All the heartaches before led them here, it's true.

Every tear they had shed, every lonely night,

Led them to this moment, everything felt right.

They held each other close, hearts finally free,

Grateful for the journey that brought them to be.

For all the past pain, they'd willingly pay,

To find this true love, to feel this way.

In each other's arms, they found their worth,

A love that was real, the sweetest on Earth.

#pick a card #tarot #divination #spirituality #tarot reading #poem #self care #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #tarotcommunity #tarot pick a card #pick a photo #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot cards #tarot readings

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dreamofjoys · 8 months

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VILLAINS WHO GIVES UP THE WORLD FOR YOU (Malleus edition) >>>

On the dead of the cold night, you decided to flee from the place you once called home. Despite being a royal, the servants and your family looked down you. They never fail to mistreat you in your daily life. Giving you only one meal per day, mocking you openly infront of everyone while causing scars on your body.

You had enough. You wanted to get out of this place.

But you should have known better than to flee into the forest that lies on the backyard of the royal palace. Unknown monsters were lurking in the dark, their eyes glistering with hunger, staring at their prey who was trembling with fear. You looked back to the direction you had came from, noticing that the servants were smirking at you.

Ah, they deliberately left the monsters here to eat me.

You turned your attention to the monsters who were in attack position, ready to pounce onto you. The monsters growled, before leaping into the air and towards you.

You were tired of the constant mistreatment. Perhaps dying would be far better than your current situation. Tears starts streaming down your eyes as you stare at the beast who was jumping towards you. You opened your arms wide, getting ready to embrace on what’s coming next.

“Take me, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

However, the impact never came. Instead, you felt yourself being pulled back by someone, landing straight into their arms. Their large warm hand covers your eyes while the other hugs your body.

“No,” long strands of black hair appeared at the corner of your vision, tickling your exposed skin. “I won’t allow this.” His hot breath fans over your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine.

“You are mine.” You melt into the man -Malleus- embrace, feeling somewhat comforted by his earthy scent and warmth. The monsters and servants were long dead, but you need not witness the scene.

Malleus would burn the world and the people who hurt you, just so that you can live in happiness.

Scenario inspired by CHP 16 of Twilight Poem

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #dreamofjoystwst #imagines #y/n #diasomnia #twst malleus #malleus x yuu #malleus x mc #twst malleus x reader #malleus x reader #malleus hcs

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m1d-45 · 1 year

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welcome to my masterlist!

if there’s anything you’d like to see, please send in an ask here!

here’s my original take on the logistics of sagau, as well as an update after some more information, and here’s my thoughts on how nations worship.

1k event m. list!

warnings [⏵] : yandere / heavy cultish || obsessive

genre [title] : angst || fluff || hurt/comfort

[ under maintenance ! might be a bit messy ]

traveller from afar — aether

‘I'm saying that I'm having a lot of fun traveling with you… It'd be nice if we could just go on like this forever.’

⏵ a new tomorrow

—⏵ my love, my god

the dark side of dawn — diluc

‘Diluc, of Mondstadt. Not interested in idle chit-chat. If you have things you want to get done, let me know.’

⏵ fallen through

⏵ a fault in the heart [red!]

⏵ tongue tied

windborne bard — venti

‘Perfect timing, Traveler! I was about to ask you — what is your greatest wish?’

⏵ unnamed poem, unnamed bard

⏵ in sickness and in health

⏵ (what about me?)

⏵ stella fortuna

beyond mortality — baizhu

‘Even though I'm the doctor, I've still had to trouble you with my health. How shameful... But don't worry. From this day on, I will take care of you.’

⏵ second chances

leonine vanguard — ga ming

‘If I can guard shipments, I can guard people. Since you seem to trust me, how 'bout I be your bodyguard from now on?‘

⏵ vanguard’s fortune

childe — tartaglia

‘Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!’

⏵ under duress

⏵ brainrot

⏵ duality of man

—⏵ inversion of fate

vigilant yaksha — xiao

‘I deal in death. If you cannot bring yourself to kill — speak my name.’

⏵ repentance

⏵ burden to bear

⏵ bird xiao things! (split links)

—⏵ and again, and fanart, and again, and again, and fanart, and fanart, and again

⏵ he who is without sin

—⏵ once more, and again, and again, and again, and again, and fanart, and again, and fanart, and fanart

⏵pari!reader tag

vago mundo — zhongli

‘The market is closed and the port has settled. Go get some rest.’

⏵ sagau!zhongli

⏵ a dragon’s gems

⏵ to dream of the divine

⏵ adorned

pillar of fortitude — ayato

‘Good morning. A little sword practice while the day is young is good for the body and mind. I tend to avoid having anything scheduled during these hours... What do you say? Fancy crossing blades with me?’

⏵ words left unsaid

analytical harmony — heizou

‘Ooh, my goodness, life's really put you through the wringer recently, hasn't it? I can tell. Here, why don't you take a seat, tell me the whole story.’

⏵ the scars, the wound

—⏵ (old) first encounters

⏵ upon a hair-thin wire

scarlet leaves pursue wild waves — kazuha

‘Ah, you'd like to learn the art of the sword? Let me see... Alright — here, take this. It's a bamboo blade I just made. With these, we can practice sparring without having to worry about getting injured.’

⏵ remorse

⏵ in a flash

⏵ the wind knows

⏵ judas

protector from afar — thoma

‘I've figured out what I want to do now. My strength is your shield, and I will always be here to protect you.’

⏵ rain or shine

admonishing instruction — alhaitham

’Don't be offended if you try to greet me on the street and I don't respond. It's simply because I'm wearing my soundproof earpieces, that's all.’

⏵ divine permanence

verdant strider — tighnari

‘What, so this sort of thing needs official documentation now? Okay then... Well, hand over your "friendship certificate." I assume it'll need my signature.’

⏵ opportunities arisen

—⏵ prime fortune

eons adrift — wanderer

’Ask me anything if you want. If a question is interesting enough, I may give you an answer.’

⏵ wandering

⏵ rest

ordainer of inexorable judgement — neuvillette

‘Good evening. I hope you have not encountered any unpleasantness today.’

⏵ for all to see

emissary if solitary antiquity — wriothesley

'Want a tip on how to escape from the Gardes? Just give yourself a name that's really long and difficult to pronounce. They'll be stumbling over your name as soon as they try to announce that you are under arrest.'

pankration

pantalone — regrator

‘Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact…’

⏵ ink, ink, ink

miscellaneous / multiple

⏵ in excess (ft. zhongli + xiao)

⏵ new hopes (ft. the arataki gang)

⏵ emotions (ft. mondstat)

⏵ the young (ft. your main!)

—⏵ still too young (ft… a lot of ppl)

⏵ plagued (ft. diluc + kaeya)

⏵ reverse isekai drabble (ft. your main!)

⏵ slapfight (ft. a lot of people-)

⏵ mea maxima culpa (ft. zhongli + barbara)

⏵ in the stars (ft mona + your main!)

⏵ replacement (ft. kaeya + venti + albedo + xiao)

⏵ discretion advised (ft. mondstat)

⏵ warmth (ft. every pyro character as of 3.4)

⏵ a soft place to land (ft. zhongli + kaeya + diluc + alhaitham + tighnari)

⏵ constellations (ft. barbara + thoma + heizou + collei + kujou sara + sucrose + candace +ganyu)

⏵ connection (ft. diluc + kaeya + kazuha + albedo + kaveh)

⏵ your shield, a sword (ft. thoma + tighnari + zhongli + alhaitham + cyno + albedo)

⏵ divine favor (ft. yae miko + itto + kazuha + kaeya + chongyun + noelle)

⏵ dead leaves (ft. ..people)

—⏵ new sprouts (ft. chongyun)

⏵ the rule of threes (ft. albedo + his brother)

⏵ darling, my dear (ft. diluc + tighnari + childe + xiao + kazuha)

⏵ sandy refuge (ft. nahida + wanderer)

⏵ dancing soldiers (ft. aether)

series!

⏵ dearly beloved — complete trilogy

—⏵ on broken bones

—⏵ death, rebirth, new life

—⏵ the scottish play

⏵ abiogenesis — complete duology

—⏵ from soil…

—⏵ …was birthed chalk

⏵ secret contributions — complete trilogy

—⏵ small miracles

—⏵ hidden blessings

—⏵ silent conclusions

⏵ spoken across stars — episodic

—⏵ kaeya, diluc, thoma ft. noelle + candace

—⏵ kazuha, wanderer ft. tighnari + baizhu

—⏵ zhongli, ayato, heizou ft. xinqiu + chongyun

that’s all for now! i hope you’ve enjoyed your stay, and wish you the best. if there’s something here you particularly liked, consider letting me know with a reblog or comment; i read every single one and they mean the world. whatever the case: i bid you farewell!

(p.s.: if you spot an error like a link leading somewhere it shouldn’t, a missing post entirely, etc., please leave a reply/ send in an ask to let me know as chances are i will not notice it. thank you!)

— midas

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try-set-me-on-fire · 7 months

Note

How about odd socks for the soft prompts?

Eddie tries to write his vows. Poem excerpts from E.E. Cummings’ [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], Mary Oliver’s The Mango, and Pablo Neruda’s Finale. Plain text version on AO3 here and under the read more!

Dear Buck oh its not a letter

Buck

Evan Buckley (?)

From the day we met, I

I take thee to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part except I don’t want to stop loving you when either of us die. I don’t want to part. Till the glaciers have melted and the oceans have dried up, till Mount Whitney (the tallest mountain in California, I looked it up) is eroded to a molehill, till the heat death of the universe do us part. Maybe that will be enough time

I keep thinking about that time you wore those fucking socks to work and Bobby and everyone were trying to really gently asses if you were having a breakdown because we just see AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE on your ankle and then you laughed and pulled up your pants and it said “GET LOST IN NATURE AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE” which like I still think is kind of a fucked up thing to put on a sock but you just did one of your beautiful sunshine grins (we weren’t even together but god I still got light headed looking at you) and were like “I thought it would be neat to remind people the importance of safety in nature” and I was kind of teasing and annoyed and laughed about it and that was like three years ago Buck and I still feel guilty about it because if you were going through some kind of crisis I don’t ever want to be annoyed and laugh about it, I want to be there for you no matter what and I hope I’ve proven that to you over the years, that I don’t just love you on easy days, I love you every single day all the time even when everything’s fucked even if I can’t write wedding vows to save my life christ this is terrible

I love your nose and your birthmark and your eyebrows and your hair and your shoulders and the bends of your elbows, and your wrists and hands, and I love your nipples and hip bones and cock and ass and knees and your shin, I love the scars on your shin, I love every scar you have because none of them killed you

How about

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

But this was a rich house, and clever too.

After salmon and salads,

mangoes for everyone appeared on blue plates,

each one cut in half and scored

and shoved forward from its rind, like an orange flower,

cubist and juicy.

When I began to eat

things happened.

your head on the pillow,

your hands floating

in the light, in my light,

over my earth.

It was beautiful to live

when you lived

The world is bluer and of the earth

at night, when I sleep

enormous, within your small hands.

Before the ceremony I told Shannon “It’s going to be okay” and in the moment I believed it because I had her and I was scared but she was my best friend and up there in front of her parents and mine I said the regular vows but I think that first one was what counted even if it didn’t end up being true. Maybe I’ve been telling you my vows for years. You can have my back any day. There’s no one on earth I trust with my son - with our son - more than you. Every time I tell you I love you, isn’t that a promise?

I’ve been happy before in my life, despite everything I don’t think I was an unhappy man, not always, only sometimes, but you make me happier than I thought was possible. That kind of feeling when you laugh too hard and you’re not getting enough oxygen to your brain. Isn’t that romantic, you give me hypoxia

Here’s the thing you know I’m going to get up there and just start crying immediately so I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to find words I won’t even be able to get out

No hi this is me two hours later of course this is important you’re important you knowing how much I love you is so important to me and I will stand up there blubbering at you for hours if that’s what it takes

I trust you. I love you. I am happy with you. I want to wake up beside you always, Buck I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you next to me first thing in the morning (or night or afternoon or whenever we’ve finished sleeping), touching your warm body with your lungs breathing and your heart beating and the solidity of you feels like a miracle

I’ll buy you socks so your feet don’t get cold and I’ll bring you fruit because you like to eat sweet things and wherever I live will be your home and I’ll be by your side as long as you do me the honor of wanting me there and everything I have and am is yours and I

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #asked and answered

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cavalierzee · 4 months

Text

I Am You

A poem from 2012 by the late Dr. Refaat Alareer – murdered by ‘Israel’ on Friday, December 8, 2023, that will absolutely mesmerize you: “I am you”

Two steps: one, two. Look in the mirror: The horror, the horror! The butt of your M-16 on my cheekbone The yellow patch it left The bullet-shaped scar expanding Like a swastika, Snaking across my face, The heartache flowing Out of my eyes dripping Out of my nostrils piercing My ears flooding The place. Like it did to you 70 years ago Or so.

I am just you. I am your past haunting Your present and your future. I strive like you did. I fight like you did. I resist like you resisted And for a moment, I’d take your tenacity As a model, Were you not holding The barrel of the gun Between my bleeding Eyes.

One. Two. The very same gun The very same bullet That had killed your Mom And killed your Dad Is being used, Against me, By you.

Mark this bullet and mark in your gun. If you sniff it, it has your and my blood. It has my present and your past. It has my present. It has your future. That’s why we are twins, Same life track Same weapon Same suffering Same facial expressions drawn On the face of the killer, Same everything Except that in your case The victim has evolved, backward, Into a victimizer. I tell you. I am you. Except that I am not the you of now.

I do not hate you. I want to help you stop hating And killing me. I tell you: The noise of your machine gun Renders you deaf The smell of the powder Beats that of my blood. The sparks disfigure My facial expressions. Would you stop shooting? For a moment? Would you?

All you have to do Is close your eyes (Seeing these days Blinds our hearts.) Close your eyes, tightly So that you can see In your mind’s eye. Then look into the mirror. One. Two. I am you. I am your past. And killing me, You kill you.

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outofmydepthatapublicbeach · 1 month

Note

hiiii idk if u have requests open but could you write julien x reader where reader is related to phoebe or lucy and julien is reader’s secret admirer so reader gets poems, and gifts, and candy whatever and later on she discovers that julien is her admirer?

thx and pls

jj chats: this idea was so so cute!! i might expand on it a little later but here is what i have for y'all right now!!

warnings: RPF, julien is very awkward!!!

feedback is encouraged and i'd love to get some just please be kind!!!

Let's say in this one you’re Lucy’s younger sister (by like 2 years), and you joined the boys on tour or something.

You had been introduced to everyone, but Julien had definitely caught your eye. But because of how you were Lucy’s sister you thought you had no shot with her.

Then one morning you woke up to see a beautiful bouquet of flowers, all your favorite kinds mixed together in a pretty display.

There was no note so you assumed it had been Lucy’s gift.

When you came back later that night there was a hand-braided bracelet laying on the counter of your trailer and a note that read

“Your beauty is beyond compare

Sometimes life just isn’t fair

If I could give you my heart I swear

We wouldn’t be a lame affair.”

The poem was sweet you through, but you couldn’t sleep that night, you kept trying to figure out who it came from.

As another week went by you got more notes, more flowers, more small intricate little gifts.

But as more gifts came, your desire to know who sent them rose.

One day you decided to park yourself outside of your trailer, outside of view from people unless they were really looking. But you still had eyes trained on the door.

After the numerous notes signed “your secret admirer” you knew you needed to meet this person.

As you watched the door it took a few hours before something happened.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the bright pink hue of tulips being brought to your door but no other than Julien.

She walked into your trailer, was in there for less than a minute and left, the flowers staying behind.

Immediately you jumped up and ran inside to see and low and behold, there was a little notecard laying there waiting for you.

“Your eyes sparkle like the brightest star

I cherish you like my favorite guitar

The way my heart beats around you is bizarre

It leaves me an irresistible scar.”

Quickly you ran out, card still in hand. You searched the lot for any sign of Julien, but ultimately couldn’t find her. You went backstage, where the boys were getting ready and spotted Julien almost right away, she was getting ready to sit down for makeup.

You walked up to her, she could see you in the mirror.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened especially when she said what you held in your hand.

As you approached her you sighed, “Can I talk to you for a minute Julien?”

She quickly nodded, getting up and following you to another abandoned room. Once the door was shut she tried to act nonchalant, crossing her arms over her chest before calling out, “So what’s up?”

“It’s you.”

“What?” Julien choked out.

“You’re my secret admirer!” To that Julien nodded quickly, throwing you a weak smile. You could tell by her attitude that she was nervous you didn’t reciprocate her feelings.

Quickly you pulled her in, hugging her tightly. She wrapped her arms around you, settling into the hug, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

#julien baker x reader #boygenius x reader #julien baker fanfic #julien baker fluff #julien baker one shot #julien baker au #julien baker x singer!reader #julien baker blurb

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infernalodie · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 || 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳

Inspo: Emile Mosseri - Jacob and the Stone

Pairing: Maddy Perez x Gn!reader

Summary: The stone that stood tall and would never full leave her memory...

Warnings: Angst throughout with mentions of suicide.

Words: 1770

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

There was this stone Maddy used to go to.

Somewhere in the density of a forest right outside of Highland. Practically resting near the long breaks of the open countryside, this place resided.

It’d been a complete chance that she came to this location. Her car broke down with her friends and their goal to live the night up was still on the list of plans. So, they ventured into this forest and found this large stone.

She remembers Cassie being a ruckus and being the emotional drunk she was. Lexi was reserved and just talked with Kat. Rue and Jules were holding one another. But Maddy found you staring at this stone, perplexed or fascinated by it.

Maddy remembers you dragging your hand across the texture of the rock. Lips twitched faintly as the tips of your fingers gently caught the grooves; scars of its past and present. And something about it made you say, “It’s beautiful.”

Everyone knew you found beauty in the strangest of places. If it is some random obscured painting or one of those poems you would write in your free time–there was nothing you couldn’t find positives in. It had been what made Maddy fall in love with you in the first place.

And she remembers how you looked back at her. A look in your eye that was almost contentful. Like something had been decided the moment you saw this large stone. You had said, “If I ever die, I want to be buried here. I’ll even write it in my will.”

She punched your arm for saying something like that. Warning you that she would be the one to do the job if you brought something like that up. You smiled and laughed. And she remembers your arms curling around her and holding her against your chest tightly. Your face tucked in her hair where you pressed gentle kisses.

That had only been a week before everything happened. That was the last memory she had of you before you were gone. Swept up and taken wherever was after this life. And now, even after all these years, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go back to that forest–to relive that moment all over again in a place that she imagine still had your lingering presence.

Today, it was the anniversary of your death. So, with the urging encouragement of Lexi and Rue, she drove up to the forest. She walked amongst the trees that the further she got, blocked out the sun that had been beating down on her since she got back from Highland. It left a massive veil between her and the outside world that hoped hadn’t desecrated this sacred land.

Then she finally arrived at the stone. It stood tall- maybe even taller than she had once realized. Its exterior was jaded–chips having fallen off from years of weather conditioning. And in a traditional fashion, your initials were etched into its face. Your name, your birthday and the day of your passing. Each letter and number is rough around the edges, but perfect as its own; much like you.

Flowers were scattered around the marked grave. Much of them came from friends that had specifically come down to visit and pay respects to you. There were postcards from Jules; she believed that in some way, they might make it to you somehow. There were stuffies from Rue who knew of your unhealthy obsession with said items. Lexi left some of your favourite books from your guys’ friendship being built from that.

But Maddy had nothing to offer. Perhaps she thought her visit was enough considering the time she’d pushed to avoid the inevitable.

Exhaling heavily, she forced a smile. “Hey, baby.”

She sat beside the grave with the faint outline of where it had been dug. She clasped her hands together, saying, “I would ask you how you were doing, but I think we both know that would just be stupid of me.”

Painful silence. She didn’t know what to say. What was there to honestly say? You had given up. Maybe you lost sight of the beauty in this world. Lost all hope for society and decided to clock out before you saw anything get worse. Or maybe you had been depressed the whole time but she was too blind to see it. People wore masks–some of who no one would expect. Maybe you were a part of that few.

But since you left, she tried to keep to what she had been before you left–be the person that you loved. So, she wasn’t going to try and beat around the bush with any fruitless questions or statements. “I want to say you left because you couldn’t handle living anymore. But somehow-” she laughed, shaking her head. “-something tells me your sick mind thought that becoming one with the earth was beautiful, huh? I mean, we both know that’s how your mind worked.”

In some way, with your passing, she felt like she had finally grown as close as she could get to you. With your family left in shambles from your death, Maddy had taken it upon herself to be the one to pack your belongings up. Place your clothes in boxes, trinkets in boxes, and all the little handwritten notes that lined your walls. And on the final day, there was only one poem left and she just sat in the center of your room and stared at it. Then she cried. Harder than she ever thought she could. She screamed and fought against the harsh grasp of reality that was; once she took that final paper, you were officially gone. You would be gone from her life forever.

But from time to time, when she came down to Highland to visit her parents, she stopped by your family’s house. She had dinner with them, talked about life, made plans for future holidays and then she would ask to look at the boxes.

There would always be a silence that fell over the kitchen. The uneven breaths from your mother who would purse her lips, forcing a broken smile that could crack as she grabbed Maddy’s hands and hold them tightly. Which would always be contradictory because of the tears in her eyes. And your mom would always say, “Honey, don’t ever feel like you need to ask.”

And your dad would sit there quietly, avoiding eye contact that could betray the tough exterior he had to keep. When, in fact, the wound of your passing was still fresh and it would always stay that way. No child is supposed to go before their parents.

But you did. You defied every expectation; good and bad. You believed in most people who didn’t deserve it. You found lessons in situations you had labelled, “misconstrued control”. Each of those lessons made you grow and in any way you could, you tried to pass this knowledge on to others. But you gave up and in Maddy’s mind and that substituted everything else out. Your action to leave so soon was unforgivable to her.

You gave up when things were getting good for the two of you. When your guys’ story was starting to pick up make things interesting.

“I started reading some of those poems you had taped up on your walls.” A faint smile twitched on her lips. “They almost looked like etchings of thoughts you never said to me.” Maddy’s lips trembled. She remembered clearing out your room and spending hours sitting in the center of that room. Unable to take her eyes off of all the deep and meaningful quotes that you were so infatuated with. If she’d known that she returned to your house in her dreams, finding you standing and staring at each poem with a smile, she would’ve never laid a foot inside that room.

Bowing her head slightly as she swayed. Sniffling harshly, she said, “If you must die, I’ll envy even the earth that wraps around your body.” Her tearful eyes lifted to the inscription of your name carved meaningfully into the boulder. Face twisting with her voice giving way. “And I fucking miss you, Y/n. I hate knowing something else will give you warmth when I could’ve filled that spot for you.”

Her voice cracked. A sob fell from her lips. “I shouldn’t be sad. You fucking left me!” She fell to her hands, slowly lowering herself where blades of grass brushed across her rosy cheeks that kissed the earth. Her body trembled as she sought the feeling of your arms once more. Fingers delving into the dirt, hoping to find your hands interlocking with hers the further she reached. “But I want you here. Even in my dreams, I just want one more day with you.”

It was a distant and unforgeable wish, she knew that. But she was desperate. She had to wake up most nights and cry herself back to sleep because that would be the only way to reunite with you once more. Through the pain, she was healed by your smile. And she trying to find a middle ground between acceptance and refusal.

But that was the thing–no one can have both. When someone is gone, we can’t do anything to bring them back. And with time, we will heal. It’ll hurt like hell and it’ll feel like that wound will always be open, but that’s what comes with acceptance. And when we least expect it, when we find someone that makes our hearts skip a beat like the person before once did, we’ll realize how far we’ve come. How much pain we were able to take and keep moving forward.

It's a sign to try again.

And it hurt Maddy to admit it, but she wanted to keep going. Keep you close to her heart, but far enough that she was allowed to think about the good times instead of the worst.

And what helped was for her to think about how your mind worked–your beliefs that she never could wrap her head around. With time, she learned more about herself and where she stood on the unappreciated qualities of life and the world she lived in. Maddy believed that in some alternate reality, the both of you were still together and thriving. And acknowledging that was beautiful in its own way because she got to experience it for some time–a small sliver compared to a counterpart, but still a gift. But a different version of her would feel it until her last breath.

Something like that was poetic, wasn’t it?

#maddy perez euphoria #alexa demie #maddy perez x gn!reader #maddy perez x gn reader #maddy perez imagine #maddy perez fanfiction #maddy perez angst #maddy perez x reader #maddy perez #euphoria #euphoria fanfiction #euphoria imagine #euphoria maddy perez #x gender neutral reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader #x reader

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

O Me! O Life! // J.Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: scars, non-sexual nudity, mention of what the Joker did to Jason

Summary: He hates the scars on his back and avoids seeing them any chance he gets. He slips up one day, but you’re there to assure him.

* - denotes lines from O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman (my fave poem thank u for asking)

The thing about scars is that it’s easy to forget that they’re there sometimes. The raised white pucker along his jaw from a knife disappeared under his five o’clock shadow. The pinched circles of healed bullet holes changed shape when he flexed. But these scars…there was no mistaking it.

Ugly gouges only healed by the Lazarus pit marred his back. He hated looking at them the few times he turned his head when his back was to the mirror. It was as if he was back in that fucking werehouse with the fucking clown and that fucking crowbar.

Today was one of those days where the Gotham humidity felt like a fucking wet blanket smacking you in the face the second you stepped out the door. Sweat practically draped his shirt along his skin as he went for a morning run and by god, the only thing he wanted to do when he got home was take a shower.

You were still spread out under the thin cotton top sheet and even that was almost unbearable in the summer heat. You offered him a smile lined with the lingering sleep that clung to your mind. Jason made sure to swing by and press a kiss to your temple as your hand loosely curled at the collar of his shirt but he pulled away before you could convince him back into bed.

“Gotta shower, sweets,” he murmured as he extracted himself from your grip and made his way into the bathroom.

“Wow, without even giving me a show?” you called behind him. He snorted in response and his shirt landed on the growing pile of laundry on the floor across from the bathroom door. You booed and he sighed but stepped out from behind the door frame. His shorts hung low on his hips, revealing the cut of his abs as they descended behind the band of rayon. You waved your hand to tell him to continue and he rolled his eyes, but a smile grew on his lips as he pushed his shorts down.

“Once more, pretty boy,” you cooed. He tugged off his boxers and raised his arms to the side and spun in a circle like he was giving you a fashion show. You burst into laughter but your laughter faded when you saw his face fall.

His eyes were locked on his reflection in the full length mirror propped up against the wall. He trailed his gaze along the harsh stripes of mottled flesh that stood out against his tan skin. You slipped out from under the sheet and made your way across the room to press up against his chest. One of your hands came up to rest on his bicep and the other wound its way behind his back to start to trace along the lines and scars.

“Lover,” you whispered. “These are signs that you survived.��

A shuddering breath escaped him and you turned to look into the mirror, your motions following you in the silvery reflection. Your finger drew hearts, circles, and words along his skin. Praises, promises, sweet nothings created an invisible diary of your devotion to him and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse*,” you whispered. “You are here. Life exists. You may contribute a verse. You are here. Say it.”

“I am here,” he croaked out. “I exist. Life exists.”

“You are here. With me. In our home.”

The home with plants and cats and Wonder Woman curtains. The home with mismatched plates found at thrift shops and dollar stores. The home with his gun safe next to the stack of unread books that the two of you have been pointedly ignoring. The home with the walk to the bodega for breakfast sandwiches and the farmer’s market tucked away at a local park.

He was here. With you. Life exists.

He curled his arms around your waist, delicate and tentative as though he would destroy you with a simple touch, and you leaned into it. You welcomed him with soft caresses and careful kisses and he melted into the arms of the person he loved. He was here. Life exists.

Tag List: @mcrmarvelloki @gone-batty-fics @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @kat-nee @khaylin27

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd fluff #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fluff

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songofpolaris · 8 months

Text

Imagine: Scribbled notes

masterlist / navigation

-> pairing; reader x Remus Lupin

-> wc; 1.3k

-> warnings; fluff, autumn and mentions of smoking. if any of the previously mentioned sickens or disturbs you, please do not read.

-> a/n; i don't even know when I last posted a good old hopeless romantic imagine that I would normally use to fall asleep to.

Lattes, cappuccinos, mint tea, cinnamon rolls and pumpkin spice on everything you eat. Movie marathons, thick fuzzy blankets, rainy nights and cold morning air. Dusty books, poison ivy and poems. Autumn.

For some people, this is the time to hide away and complain that the sun is nowhere to be found while sitting in their houses all day, doing nothing. But not for you. No, for you, this is your time to shine. The leaves are showing your favourite colours each morning on your way to work and the customers come in with hair that’s blown in each and every direction by the winds outside. They smile, grateful to have a place to recharge at for a bit, and are always that tiny bit more thankful when you hand them a warm cup of coffee and a neatly wrapped book. Your autumn brightness lights up their seasonal darkness.

There is also always a switch in customers when this change of season takes place. The summer blonds in flowy dresses leave and the autumn brunettes with thick sweaters take their place.

There’s only one person who keeps coming in, every week, when you work. He’s tall and dark and handsome and all the other cliche book descriptions you wish you could use for someone in real life. But he’s also introverted and not perfect looking. He has scars and messy hair and doesn’t seem to act like he’s anything other than himself.

As you stand on your toes to put the new book series on the shelf, you hear the bell ringing from the door. The door itself creeks enough for you to hear that someone has come in, but the boss won’t fix it for reasons no one can quite comprehend. Something with nostalgia and how the youth keeps on fixing things that do not, ever, need fixing.

“Hello! I’ll be with you in just a moment, just let me put this down.” You greet whoever just came in still standing on the tip of your toes, clumsily balancing three books under your left arm while placing another one on the shelf.

“That doesn’t look like it’ll be done in a moment and if it is, it won’t be because all the books got to their place, y/n.” A low voice answers. You smile as you realise it’s him.

“Delusion is a fine way to work, Remus.” You answer as you try to get even higher on your toes.

You hear footsteps hasting your way as you fall back, realising gravity actually still is with you. However, two arms envelop you before you hit the ground. They slowly push you back into your normal standing position, still hugging you from the back.

“It’s also a way to break your toes or get a concussion, genius.” Remus whispers into your ear. You huff and turn around. His arms leave you and you feel the absence of them immediately.

Remus kneels down and gathers the books, then easily places them on the havened book shelf. His curls fall back from his eyes and the strong jawline gets shown off more than ever. ‘How is this specimen real?’ is all you manage to think. As he looks back at you, you clear your throat and walk up to the register. While walking, you raise your hand to your cheek. It actually feels hot. Is it hot? You let your hair fall into your face to cover up the cheeks, which feel like they might actually be looking like tomatoes.

You duck behind the register to grab the only delivery made this week, which could only be for him. This man reads a new book every week and buys a new one each time he comes into the store. So far, the only week he didn’t come in was the first week of spring break, which later turned out to be because he broke his leg and physically could not make it to the bookstore on his own.

“Emma by Jane Austen this time?” You ask as he comes up to you. He nods.

“I love you for this! It’s actually my favourite book.” You tell him while wrapping it.

Now, a blush comes up on his cheeks. He picks on his sweater awkwardly while starting to lean onto the counter. While looking away he answers; “I know, you told me last time.”

You ignore the awkward change of behaviour and push your hair back out of your face. You couldn’t hide that heat in you even if you did try, so why would you. You look at him questioningly.

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did. Anyway, even if I did forget the conversation, I have a list of books you recommended to me.” He says it like it’s the most normal thing on the planet. Sure. Everybody is this attentive. Every single person on this planet is this kind of attentive.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about your opinion and trust it.”

“Can I see it?”

“Why are you only asking questions suddenly?”

You lay the neatly wrapped book in front of him, tilt your head and look at him.

“Can I?” Is all you say, still keeping a hand on the book. He looks down at the book and then focuses onto your eyes.

“No.”

“Why in the world not?”

Remus shakes his head. His glasses are crooked and he smells like cigarettes and peppermint. There’s only a register between the two of you that’s really just 17 inches broad. That gives you a good sense of someone’s smell when they lean up to it.

“Fine” he reaches into the pocket of his trousers and takes out a folded piece of paper, “but don’t start thinking I’m a stalker or anything now, alright?” He says as he hands it to you. You nod and unfold the paper. On it, titles are scribbled and quotes stand behind the ones he has read.

“What are the quotes for, smokey?” You ask jokingly. Not that it reflects how you feel in any way, shape or form. Truthfully, you’re tearing up and trying to hide it with a stupid comment.

Remus seems to hesitate answering this question. Though the weird nickname always does make him show that lopsided grin of his.

“Unless it’s a state secret, you can tell me.” You add.

“They’re quotes I see you in.”

“But these quotes…Remus”

“Yes, y/n?”

“I know you have read these, but have you?” You say perplexed. This can not be real. Outside of the store, you two have run into each other some time and each time it was amazing, but it didn’t feel like he thought much more of the two of you than just people who sometimes coincidentally run into each other and talk about books outside of that. The quotes seem to think otherwise. And they’re all ones you love and annotated yourself.

“Y/n, please say something. I swear I’m not some obsessive person, I just really enjoy spending time with you and thought this would… I don’t know. Give me more to talk to you about? Understand you better?”

You laugh. How can someone think this is going to make you see them as anything less than amazing. Less than wonderful. Less than perfect. You move around the register and then you’re standing right in front of him. His chin actually hits the top of your head when you stand closer to him. You move back and move your hand to the back of his head.

“I’m going to stand on my toes again, alright? So you just hold me.” You whisper as you stand on your toes and your lips slowly, delicately touch his. His arms wrap around you. You have never been more steady than this.

“It's such a happiness when good people get together.” Jane Austen - Emma

taglist; @calamitoustide @innerloverpainter

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fuckyeahfightlock · 6 months

Text

New Fandom Classics -- Top Sherlock (TV) fics of 2020

The most popular Sherlock fics (by kudos) on the AO3, completed in 2020

What We Could Be by mottlemoth, (E, 34k) collected Mystrade ficlets

Lullaby by mottlemoth, (E, 21k) Mystrade soulmates AU

(and your very flesh shall be a great poem by CaitlinFairchild came up here but it must have been edited, or updated in 2020 because it is older)

Scars and All by mottlemoth, (E, 6k) Mystrade jealousy

I Thank My Lucky Stars (for Every Crack, Scratch, and Scar) by burnedplaylists (T, 3k) part 2 of a series, johnlock, worried!lestrade

It takes John Watson to save your life. by Sparkypip (T, 111k) part 2 of a series, hurt/comfort series of ficlets of John saving Sherlock's life

Quarantine by wendymarlowe (T, 54k) real-time day-by-day story of Sherlock and John in coronavirus quarantine

I Demand You Speak by Maejones (E, 97k) Sherlolly Abominable Bride AU

A Desperate Indulgence by LollipopCop (M, 35k) John wakes up with amnesia; Sherlock tells him they are married

A Duty of Care by mottlemoth (E, 85k) Greg and Helen Lestrade see sex therapist Mycroft Holmes to address their failing marriage.

All the Wild Summer by mottlemoth (E, 6k) Mystrade age gap AU

This is my Friend, John Watson by SeamsInLine (T, 4k) Sherlock and John are married; Lestrade doesn't notice

Sunday by mottlemoth (E, 19k) collected NSFW Mystrade ficlets

In His Care by BeautifulFiction (T, 21k) John has COVID-19 sick fic

Everything to Me by mottlemoth (T, 1k) Mystrade; kidnapped Greg

Negative Space by standbygo (M, 9k) John takes a drawing class; Sherlock is the model

Safe as Houses by meansgirl (E, 46k) Mystrade in quarantine

On the Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 14k) casefic, Johnlock, fencing

Old Ghosts by mottlemoth (E, 2k) Mystrade emotional hurt/comfort

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 54k) post-S4 fix-it, johnlock undercover at an anti-gay conference

An Omega's Kingdom by FemaleINTJ (E, 9k) underage omegaverse

#another year where ships other than #johnlock #make a big splash!#when people complain of lack of Sherlock fic #they usually mean lack of johnlock fic #but the fandom is more than johnlock #sherlolly #appears here as well #please be upstanding for #mottlemoth #who cranks out fic like a machine and is well-loved by Mystrade readers

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kvetchlandia · 9 days

Text

Poet Delmore Schwartz, New York City Uncredited and Undated Photograph

O Delmore how I miss you. You inspired me to write. You were the greatest man I ever met. You could capture the deepest emotions in the simplest language. Your titles were more than enough to raise the muse of fire on my neck. You were a genius. Doomed.

The mad stories. O Delmore I was so young. I believed so much. We gathered around you as you read Finnegans Wake. So hilarious but impenetrable without you. You said there were few things better in life than to devote oneself to Joyce. You’d annotated every word in the novels you kept from the library. Every word.

And you said you were writing “The Pig’s Valise.” O Delmore no such thing. They looked, after your final delusion led you to a heart attack in the Hotel Dixie. Unclaimed for three days. You—one of the greatest writers of our era. No valise.

You wore the letter from T.S. Eliot next to your heart. His praise of In Dreams. Would that you could have stopped that wedding. No good will come of this!!! You were right. You begged us—Please don’t let them bury me next to my mother. Have a party to celebrate moving from this world hopefully to a better one. And you Lou—I swear—and you know if anyone could I could—you Lou must never write for money or I will haunt you.

I’d given him a short story. He gave me a B. I was so hurt and ashamed. Why haunt talentless me? I was the walker for “The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me.” To literary cocktails. He hated them. And I was put in charge. Some drinks later—his shirt undone—one tail front right hanging—tie skewed, fly unzipped. O Delmore. You were so beautiful. Named for a silent movie star dancer Frank Delmore. O Delmore—the scar from dueling with Nietzsche.

Reading Yeats and the bell had rung but the poem was not over you hadn’t finished reading—liquid rivulets sprang from your nose but still you would not stop reading. I was transfixed. I cried—the love of the word—the heavy bear.

You told us to break into __’s estate where your wife was being held prisoner. Your wrists broken by those who were your enemies. The pills jumbling your fine mind.

I met you in the bar where you had just ordered five drinks. You said they were so slow that by the time you had the fifth you should have ordered again. Our scotch classes. Vermouth. The jukebox you hated—the lyrics so pathetic.

You called the White House one night to protest their actions against you. A scholarship to your wife to get her away from you and into the arms of whomever in Europe.

I heard the newsboy crying Europe Europe.

Give me enough hope and I’ll hang myself.

Hamlet came from an old upper class family.

Some thought him drunk but—really—he was a manic-depressive—which is like having brown hair.

You have to take your own shower—an existential act. You could slip in the shower and die alone.

Hamlet starting saying strange things. A woman is like a cantaloupe Horatio—once she’s open she goes rotten.

O Delmore where was the Vaudeville for a Princess. A gift to the princess from the stage star in the dressing room.

The duchess stuck her finger up the duke’s ass and the kingdom vanished.

No good will come of this. Stop this courtship!

Sir you must be quiet or I must eject you.

Delmore understood it all and could write it down impeccably.

Shenandoah Fish*. You were too good to survive. The insights got you. The fame expectations. So you taught.

And I saw you in the last round.

I loved your wit and massive knowledge.

You were and have always been the one.

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him think.

I wanted to write. One line as good as yours. My mountain. My inspiration.

You wrote the greatest short story ever written. In Dreams

-- Lou Reed, "Oh Delmore How I Miss You" 2012

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*Autobiographical Character in several Schwartz works

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