#ive always wanted to write a poetry book one day though... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whiteskullofroses · 5 months

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Hi! I saw that you accept request for Baldwin IV. If you do still accept, could you pls write one where y/n and Baldwin would stay up too late talking to each other until one falls asleeps? Thanks 💕

Hi there thank you for the request! And to clarify, you can always request any characters you want❤️ Enjoy!

LATE NIGHT TALK

Baldwin Iv x reader

It was a cold night in Jerusalem. You were walking around the palace gazing up at the stars and thinking about life when all of a sudden, a familiar voice grabbed your attention: "Y/N!" He called out to you from his room. It was all lit up with candles so you could see his shape clearly: "Care to join me?" The young king's voice sounded so energetic, even though it was already midnight. You answered: "With pleasure!" And happily headed out to his quarters.

Once you reached the hallway that led to his room, you noticed that the door was already opened for you but still, you knocked on the wood to make your presence known.

He turned from his desk to look at you. His mask shone from the candles around him and made his blue eyes sparkle.

"Care for a round?" Baldwin gestured towards the chess set and sat down at the table. "Y/n" Sitting down and listening to his words "I've missed you tonight. I rarely see you these days."

You smiled and replied: "Work has been incredibly tiring," taking a sip of some wine a servant poured: "I've hardly found any time for friends."

Baldwin leaned closer to you: "Well now it's the time. Relax."

You started the chess game and asked: "How come weren't you at the banquet last Monday?"

The King moved a pawn and sighed: "I had an unexpected meeting which I couldn't miss."

Nodding, you moved on since you didn't want to trouble him with hard topics so late in the night.

"Have you read any new poetry lately?" Asking him like you always do, you always loved to listen to him talk about the things he was passionate about, one of them being literature.

Whether it be myths from across Europe containing dragons and other mystical beings or poetry that many saw as simple, however from a trained eye's perspective it was true art projected onto paper.

"Yes, I've read this wonder piece from a book from France Preseren called 'Poezije'" Grabbing the book from a nearby chair and flipping through it, Baldwin proclaimed: "Would you like to hear it?"

"I'd love to, Baldwin." You supported your head with your elbow on the table, as the late hours of the night cut into your brains. "Where did you get it from?"

"I believe I got this book as a gift from my sister when she visited Carniola."

Finally, he started reading, his voice soft as ever:

Fresh flowers will spread fragrance far and near,

Like roses when the winter's passed away.

Your eyelids became heavier and heavier with every word he spoke:

And spring displays its marvelous array,

While through the trees white scattered blossoms peer

Your breathing became deeper, with waves of relaxation washing through your body. All of a sudden you felt like you were 10 years old again, when your mother used to read you books to help you fall asleep.

All this time away from your parents and away from your childhood made you forget how soothing it was and how much you enjoyed it.

Baldwin continued reading the poem whilst you were drifting off into peaceful sleep, right there on his 'chess table'.

He hardly noticed you falling asleep right opposite to him as he was focusing on the text he was reading. But when he finished reading the poem and looked up from the book, he realized you slept through half of it.

He chuckled to himself. Baldwin wasn't mad or annoyed with you, rather he felt a sort of fulfillment that he managed to get you to fall asleep.

For a moment he just sat there, staring at you. You didn't know it at the time but he admired you deeply. For your intelligence and your beauty. He found that this was one of the times he could truly silently look at you and not feel bad about it.

Whenever he would catch himself gazing upon you he would get this guilt deep in his chest. He felt as though it was appropriate for him to look at you when the two of you were just colleagues.

So he slowly walked up to you and carefully picked you up. Walking up to his bed and laying you down in the middle, he knew he couldn't sleep there that night, that would be simply too much.

He decided to go and spend the night in the guest room. Just as he was about to leave your side, you woke up and grabbed him by the wrist, gently but enough so he could feel it.

"Baldwin, stay."

THE END.

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven

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your-phantomfield · 2 months

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NOEL = VERMILLION

I .. II .. III circa 2198 for @nkn0va

Noel has been a romantic all of her life- at least, all of it that she can remember. Her poetry books are filled with references to the butterflies of gentle hand-holding, the warmth of a long walk or a sunset watched together, the feeling of finding a lost part of yourself in way your soulmate says your name.

This sappy, lovestruck side of herself is something she’s a little afraid to show you right away- afraid you’ll laugh at her, afraid it'll gross you out or scare you away. But it’s so integral to who she is, it will color your relationship from day one.

You’ll catch her looking at you all the time with this expression of absolute awe. It's one of the rare times she doesn't even look nervous!

Until she realizes you’ve caught her doing it. Then she absolutely panics, stuttering in her rush to apologize or think of an excuse.

II.

She gets lost in thought, admiring the shape of your hands as you work with something or the melody of your voice and how it's always so comforting to her.

What draws her in most are your eyes. It’s probably one of the most obvious ways you can tell she’s falling for you. Noel struggles with eye contact in general, and early on she does try to avoid your gaze just as much as anyone else- but when you do make eye contact, she’s mesmerized. She can’t look away. Noel is someone who believes you can tell a lot about someone from their eyes, and yours drawn her in like nothing else.

Once the two of you are at a comfortable point in your relationship, she tends to hold eye contact with you a lot. She smiles, clearly happy to see you- sometimes giggling a bit- and then eases into this warm, loving expression as she forgets whatever you were talking about and takes a moment to just soak it all in. Her feelings for you. The feelings your presence gives her.

It’s a sanctuary for her. Your name itself is a synonym for peace.

Which is probably a theme of one of the hundreds of poems she’s written about you.

III.

Noel has been writing poetry about you since she first started falling for you. If you ever found out about the tens of dozens of poems she wrote for you before you even started dating, she’d probably drop dead on the spot.

After you started dating, and after another dozen poems gobbled up her notebook, she bought a special notebook just to write about you and your relationship. She probably splurged for fancy tinted paper, with a cute pattern and a color that reminds her of you. It’s carefully organized, neatly decorated with stickers and some small doodles. It would be a really cute anniversary gift for her to give you one day, but just like before, she’d never have the heart to actually let you see it.

There are a few things she writes that she does share with you, though. On rare, incredibly rare, occasion, like a special birthday or your first anniversary, she decides to give you a poem.

She pours her heart and soul into draft after draft, looking over each one to make sure it’s absolutely perfect… then collapses into tears at the thought of you actually reading it. Back to the drawing board.

IV.

She just can’t force herself to give you her work, no matter how hard she tries. The compromise she makes with herself is to send it to you anonymously. She doesn’t sign it, but the way it shows up on your door, windowsill, or desk on the day of your anniversary gives you a pretty big hint that it’s from her.

It appears alongside pressed flowers from her hometown, smelling of a perfume you might be able to recognize that she’s worn on a few of your dates when she really wanted to impress you.

Noel of course adamantly denies any involvement. She insists that she’s never ever ever ever seen that handwriting before, and that it couldn’t POSSIBLY be from her because her anniversary gift to you is this wonderful picnic she made for you! So she’d never send you a letter! L-l-let alone a l-lo-love p-p- ohhh, just stop asking! Just drop it!!! Please!

You’re pretty familiar with her handwriting when you’re dating her. She may be scared to death at the thought of you seeing her poetry, but she writes letters to you often. This is partially brought on by her romantic nature and her love of all things literary.

You could be living in the same apartment together and she’d still leave you a letter every other week, left on your pillow or in your lunch bag or in the pocket of your coat. It’s something she likes to do when you’ve had a bad day or if you won’t be getting home at the same time.

VI.

But I did mention her personal preferences aren’t the only reason she ends up writing you so much. Chances are the two of you aren’t living together. At this point in her life, her work has to be her number one priority.

She’s a member of the NOL, an elite member of their fighting force no less, and serving directly under the Major Kisaragi. The intensity of her job and the ruthlessness of her superior(s) mean she isn’t exactly swimming in free time. She’s too afraid to even try to ask Jin for days off, positive he would shatter her hopes and somehow find a way to punish you, too, whether or not you’re in the NOL yourself.

If you manage to find yourself serving as a member of the 4th Thaurmaturgist Squadron alongside her, you'll be able to spend more time together. She'd likely end up your commanding officer, considering her rank and her time in the academy at Torifune, but she's a lenient commander in general and there's no way she could ever be strict with you.

VII.

More likely, though, is that Noel and you will not be serving in the same unit, even if you are a member of the NOL. If you're able to live in the same Hierarchical city, she'll make time for you on all her days off, and maybe you'd have a chance to move in together.

Though her work does drag her away some times. This is what leads her to write you so much. She can call you, and she does, but her favorite way to stay in touch with you will always be a heartfelt letter. She tends to get nervous on the phone.

Though somehow that's rarely a problem when talking to you… Actually, she finds herself unable to stop talking when the two of you are on the phone! She'll sit down to call you while she's having dinner and planning to get ready for bed soon, and if you don't keep a careful eye on the clock and stop her, it'll be one in the morning and she'll be falling asleep on call. It's pretty cute, but she really does need to be up in morning, and she has a hard enough time getting out of bed as is!

VIII.

Just how much she has to prioritize her work over you is a huge source of guilt for her. It almost crushes her some days.

Maybe one day, she’ll have the courage to tell you why- about the situation her parents are in, about her adoption, about how important it is that she repay them in this way. They saved her. They loved her. When she had nothing. They have to be her top priority right now, which means the NOL has to be her top priority right now. Even over you. It absolutely breaks her heart.

Because of this debt she feels she has to her family, she never intended to live for herself. Like I said at the start, Noel has always been a romantic, in love with love. But she never thought she’d find love for herself. She views herself as plain at best, annoying to many, and unable to offer much, if anything, to anyone. Yet somehow… you chose her?

She'll never understand why. Every day she's with you, she sees you as more and more incredible. Her low confidence leads her to idolize the people she loves.

She feels she couldn't possibly deserve all the patience you offer her. She's so busy with her job, she can't promise you a future, she can't buy you the kinds of things you deserve, she knows there are prettier and smarter women you could be with.

Yet you stay with her. Through all her failures.

She'll never have the words- and I don't have the words- to express how grateful she is for the way you love her.

#noel vermillion #romantic #x reader #first request done #somehow I ended up writing way more than I meant to...#please no spelling mistakes please no spelling mistakes please no spelling mistakes please #it's too late for me to be proofreading this again I KNOW I'm sleepy

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matrose · 2 years

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What sort of mark do you think Gimli left in Aman (besides the one on Legolas ofc)?

what a cute ask...thank you!! 🏔💙

ive been thinking on this for a bit and its so hard to say, theres so much information we lack! let me collect my thoughts on the information that we do have real quick ❤️💐‼️❣️

1) the matter of age and natural death, of the time he had left: gimli sailed when he was 262 years old, nine years older already than his father gloin who died of persumably natural causes at age 253. gimlis cousin dwalin on the other hand lived until he was 340, much older. this, combined with the healing properties the undying lands are said to have, makes me personally, generously think that gimli had perhaps another 100 years left in aman ❤️

2) the matter of gimlis abilities and his craft, of what he was most profficient in: gimli of course knows the basics of stonework and smithcraft, knows how to listen to his surroundings and knows very well how to swing his axe (aragorn says, during the battle of helms deep, that he has never seen „an axe so wielded“ as gimli does). im very sure that there are many dwarven-made jewelry pieces in aman, though they mostly belong to just one elf. but one of gimlis greatests gifts is his speech! this is pointed out once by galadriel and twice by legolas:

It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues,’ she said; ‘yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous.’

‘You move me, Gimli,’ said Legolas. ‘I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves.’

Then Legolas repaid his promise to Gimli and went with him to the Glittering Caves; and when they returned he was silent, and would say only that Gimli alone could find fit words to speak of them. ‘And never before has a Dwarf claimed a victory over an Elf in a contest of words,’ said he.

furthermore his voice is refered to as strong multiple times and he is most definitely not a bad singer! so weve got the power of speech and voice, he's a wordsmith - my first thought when i read your question, before i started typing anything, was him leaving behind a book… one of poetry, maybe. or one that recounts the history of dwarves. though i think this would not be commonly read in aman as he would simply not want it to, so really this would just be for legolas and another mark left behind for him. afterall, most of what elves know of dwarven history does not come from a book but rather from the mouth of legolas! furthermore, the written word never was all that important to dwarves (they only started using it to communicate with men and elves) and it is rather oral tradition that is important for them.

the thought im writing this in mind with is that, perhaps a thousand years after gimli has physically left aman, many halls still echo songs that sound rather dwarvish in nature. they were never intended to be songs, of course, like the hobbit songs the youngest elves love most (i like to imagine bilbos bath time songs especially are big hits!). rather, they were poems. but the elf who loves them most just could not stop giving them melodies. many of them were about the beauty of far away middle-earth, many told of the beauty of aman, of the mountains and valleys and caves, and even forests, sometimes. a few, though, are about love. there is one ballad that singers often perform at the request of young, lovesick elves: it tells the story of an elf of the woods (he remains unnamed), famed for his skill in archery and his dark eyes, who catches the singers heart in his hands one day and mischieviously refuses to give it back...galadriel smiles when she hears it performed, because she is one of the few who knows and remembers who the ballad is about 💞

note: the elf within the song is unnamed and few know that gimli is the original author because to me, gimli and legolas have always exuded an air of privacy; theyre doing their own thing and frankly just want their peace! so in my opinion it would not be that important to either of them to be remembered for a love song. a poem-turned-song about the glittering caves is attributed to gimli, though =)

there are many small marks in aman, most in vicinity to legolas, that were left by gimli, but his poems (with legolas' melodies) remained in all of aman for endless years, and some have said that aulë himself listens in to the songs being performed at times ❤️

#THANK YOU I HAD LOTS OF FUN BEING A LITTLE CHEESY ❤️#gigolas #also maybe gimli and legolas built a house together with combined architectural styles? hmmm what do you think...

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its-a-hil · 6 months

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answering everything for this ask game

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect? there are. a number of them. flare (clark powell, for homestuck) magilou's theme (motoi sakuraba, for tales of berseria) electricity forecast (inabakumori, really everything by them is just. so good) 14.3 billion years (andrew prahlow, for outer wilds)

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)? how hard teaching is :/ idk it's difficult to process anything else when im having a fulltime job for the first time in my life -_-

bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home? yes absolutely i need to wear something comfy and soft and unrestrictive so like. leggings and a t shirt. having to wear vaguely formal clothes to work is nice for my self esteem but they are absolutely not home clothes at all

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with? not at the moment but i want to!! new year's resolution is to buy/make a necklace with 30 lunar phases and wear the appropriate one every day in 2024

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them? i have an older sister, we're extremely different lmao i guess we're both academically inclined and like reading fantasy, but that's like. it. though we are both currently getting our masters degrees from the same university so that's neat

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does? i guess… seeing something that was more beautiful than i expected? that's very vague hold on one time i was walking home from my office hours as a ta after a student had held me late these were evening office hours, so like. it was 2230, i was not dressed for the cold, i was annoyed at the student but but as i was passing a little field of grass, there were little ice crystals on the blades in the light of the streetlamp, as the wind was blowing the grass and i was walking past it the grass glittered i cant think of a better way to describe it but ive never seen anything like it since it completely made my day so yeah. that's my answer

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else? hm idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i feel like inside jokes usually just become part of my vocabulary

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is? fiction i think it's because im much closer to being good at writing than i am to any other art form so it resonates more with me since i can feel/imagine its creation in a way that i cant for music or visual art also sometimes i read my own past writing and it eats me alive

edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you? it's associated with my name obv, since it's just a pronunciation guide but it's also associated with my avi edits, which are wonderful and make me feel great joy

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot? oh absolutely also not at all past me and present me both had/have an absurd inability to compartmentalize, a large degree of silliness, and a general love for the world the main difference is that ive… done more things

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again? not quite a movie or a book but. katanagatari. i really liked it but also it is so fucking slow i tried to rewatch it a couple years ago and i couldnt bc it was just so wordy

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired? it's quite easy to tell if im upset or tired i feel idk if theres a difference between them just like. looking at my eyes. also i take pauses when im tired/upset. also my voice is just. god. unsure about a tell for whether im happy though im not very in tune with my emotions to be able to tell that at least with other people if im by myself ill stim and the cadence/type of stim makes my emotional state obvious but who ever sees that

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts? things that encourage me to do something i want to do but need the motivation for my college friend group does a yearly gift exchange and a couple years ago i wished for earrings as motivation to get my ears pierced (it took me another 9 months but. we still did it girlies !!)

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life? hm. failure? failing a class, or having a relationship break down, or tripping and getting myself seriously injured just. something that reminds me how ubiquitous loss is, that forces my brain to accept the fact that it's okay to not try to be perfect

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless? aranea homestuck!! something about the way that she knew that the game over timeline would break, did her best to avoid it, and everything fell apart anyway the part where she kisses jake and is like "wait why are you freaking out?? i know you like me this was supposed to encourage you" is just. she's doing her fucking best and putting her all into saving the timeline and yet everything she's doing is hurting and she doesn't know why also the part where she snaps and mind controls damaras to smash planets together in a desperate attempt to kill the condesce. so important. love her idk if she even counts as a villain but the story hates her so. it counts for me

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on? haha… "decorated"... that sure is a word…………

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with? oooooh answer !! god. tales of luminaria was so fucking good!! (this was the trailer theme, and it was honestly the first thing that clued me into the fact that the game would be amazing)

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about? i guess for a general hypothetical person, i'd tell them how i have a teaching job now, how i have to manage a horrible curriculum that's just. extremely pedagogically unsound i'd also tell them that i went to la over the summer and got to see my 2nd space shuttle orbiter, that i don't yet live somewhere with public transit but that day is growing ever closer and im so excited

#ask game #lifeblogging

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insert-neologism · 1 month

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INTRO Post YEAHG (ppl wanted this). this is LONG but there's a shorter version now!! exciting.

g e n e r a l stuff ig

(i have never made one so idk what to put here (it's way longer than i thigght though. sorry) but if u have any questions u can ask me everything! fr)

the names that i primarily go by here r mito n tomas (bc theyre the ones in my bio thing) but I have like a lot of names (bascially every word I like. more or less) so I guess u can just call me whatever??

I love music and I listen to almost EVERYTHING so it's hard to pin down a few artists. the ones i think r most underrated are flower face and aliceband though (if u ask i WILL make u a playlist. if u send me more music i will be happy). Idk i play guitar and I want to play drums which is hard bc I dont have any. also want to learn piano like this year

other than that i write pretty much (sb beta my stuff pls) oh and I have synesthesia which is fun Uhhh i love (over)interpreting things so there's a lot of that here and I csnt spell!! but I think thats obvious.

Im queer like in general

Im posting abt a lot of stuff, main interests (rn) are: tma/tmagp, starkid/sap, and yellowjackets. and discworld. we <3 discworld (sb ask me what my fav book is)

asks/dms r always open!! I love talking.

NOTE i wont be there as much the next 5 weeks, i think but u can still talk to me (pls do) ill just answer like a bit later

beneath that thing r my tags n projects it's rather long though i think. n this is long enough alr

t a g s

mitos incredible life - basically all of my original posts. whys it called that and not smth like 'my posts'? i dont fucking remember and id rlly like to know that too but im not gonna change it now. anyways it's everything from poetry stuff to edits to complaining etc

mine art tag - stuff i make, mostly edits and sometimes writing

spine - writing stuff im basically just putting somewhere when im on tumblr anyways and dont want to open the notes app. those are real life first drafts and not good

there r more i think but ig youll get them

p r o j e c t s

basically if ive planned smth for more than 1 day it's a project to me. If youre reading this I probably got multiple going on rn

the ones that are finished always have a like wrap post thingy

tag: tomas pulls thru

then I have a current wip status post which you can find here. like bascially what's finished alr and what's not n other stuff. (probably gonna forget this exists though so. might not be accurate I just love unnecessary complicated things).

tag: current wip status (if u dont wanna click the link or smth idek)

andd the post where the finished project r listed is heree

tag: project overview

IDK WHAT ELSE TO PUT HERE it will probably be updated. very sure but not the next few weeks bc as ive said i will be gone.

#intro post #intro things #mitos incredible life #can you tell how much i love very long complicated unnecessary things #lol

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rocksandboulders · 5 months

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i wrote this about how im doing right now and about the path ive taken to get where i am. it's a healing bit of writing, but it hurts. it's mostly about childhood and growth. enjoy.

tw: mental health issues, suicide mention, parents

I think at this point in my life, upon coming to terms with my childhood, my past, I have moved forwards into a mourning of sorts.

It started with an anxiety, a fear of what I had to overcome to heal. I looked away from everything to escape, I moved, I isolated, I cut down and restarted from the beginning to build myself a person in which it was safe to live, and a mind in which I would not continue to kill myself.

When I relearned my lungs, I screamed. I cried out in anger for what I now had to face. I lashed out at my mother. I shunned her from me. I rejected her. I built an impassable fortress around myself and my space and my mind, only letting one in to correspond on business terms. It was dark. There was no warmth.

When my mind finally calmed down, when I shivered in the cold of my aloneness and my eyes ached for the light again, I turned on my lamp and I wrote poetry. I longed to see my mother, my siblings, my family. I found pieces of them in every person I knew, I remembered them in songs I heard, and I began to look at the open places where I had so unceremoniously torn them from inside myself.

And then, I cried.

And as I look, now, upon myself, and upon this old house, upon my past and present, upon those around me, and those who are not, I find myself comforting each of those parts of myself.

I take my boy in corduroy and fit him with the weighted blanket of the one who gave him his first taste of a new, true home.

I regret the tears I caused in that lobby, and thank the universe that my phone battery died when it did. But I’ll never disagree with what I said.

I look at my mother, my siblings, my family, and the spaces that they are finding ways to fill once again, and I take a moment to ponder the hole left still empty. It has the scratches on the walls of one buried alive. There are many versions of me, from many times in my life, that still inhabit this body. Once they finally heal back together, that’s where they’ll all go. Once we are, once I am one person once again.

And, I still cry.

I’m sad to leave, now, when I do. This is my home, this is where I grew and changed. This is where everything that has ever happened has happened. This is where I was before everything. And this is where I come back to, still. I keep all those feelings I’ve had, they all still live inside.

I still run, retreat, hide, and reject those I know.

I still curl into my own body, the walls of my skin and muscle and bone protecting the gentle and heated soul that raptures and destroys.

I still search.

I still write.

And I still yearn. I wish for the years that have passed to be different. I wish I had memories to find joy in from my youth. I wish to read the books they wrote to me and remember how their promises carried through.

I had wanted kids for a long time. I couldn’t stop laughing.

It was the best day in my 25 years of life.

You cried- Mama & Papa felt very bad. But you were brave, very brave.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

I wish for a childhood that I can remember, not just in fondness, but one I can remember at all. I want, so badly, to be able to hug my mother and know that it isn’t new. I want to feel as though being held by her is something I remember from anywhere, anytime. I want to believe she has always wanted me close.

I want for the unwavering love that a child deserved.

And I want to cry. When that finally sinks in.

#writing #poem #poetry #writer #angst #healing poetry #free verse #tw suicide mention #tw mental health #tw mental illness #tw parents

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malfromtheblue · 7 months

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of course hon!! i see you've started reblogging things; that's awesome! 💕

fantastic genres!! anything in particular that you've read or been reading lately that you've enjoyed?

that is so sick, tbqh! rock music is such a classic, it's hard to find someone who doesn't like it. have you ever listened to sleeping at last? it's more soft and slow, and some of the songs don't have vocals. i wish i could hear you play your guitar, i bet it's awesome.

those girls are bonkers, hon. people and their biases are so 🙄 anyone can write smut! imagine if only certain people could write specific genres. that would be remarkably boring. i bet your writing is awesome; it's fun to dabble in different styles! i need to get back to writing poetry and short stories myself. i've burnt out on working on my original works.

poetry is especially important to have that raw emotion in it. if we aren't pouring our hearts out in each stanza, then it's not going to leave a lasting impact.

even the most basic of tea preferences are important! tea can really soothe a person, even if it's just one cup. i don't think i've ever put honey in my tea, though. maybe just once? usually, i'm a sucker for some cane sugar when i want a sweeter cup.

a tea date sounds so cute!! especially as we move towards cooler weather. i hope you have the opportunity to do so in the near future 🥰

- 🐰

lemme just say it makes me SO happy to have someone who relates to me! ive always been into The Maze Runner. Newt was my mate, rooted for him till he died. Then i rooted for Minho and was thrilled when Teresa died (she was annoyin, okay?). that's a series that ill never get sick of! i just started readin the Percy Jackson series. its okay, i dont quite see all the fuss about it? maybe it gets better further in. there was one book that i haven't read in the longest. called, Gregor and the Prophecy of Bane. it was from a series. that was the only book i had and i read it over and over. also, The spiderwick chronicles is an amazing series too! its also a movie

Rock music is good, i agree. i dont think ive heard of Sleeping At Last, but ill check em out for you, darlin!

poetry is quite literally my way of life? people tend to get freaked out when they see me?? i either get compliments or complaints. in the UK people kinda shyed away from me cuz i wear eyeliner and am more what would be called 'punk'. but people here are pretty cut throat. some old man said that i was the child of Satan since i dressed like a demon? but a girl that same day said i had a "sexy slut waist"? and an old french lady called me "Yeux de sirène" or what she said was Mermaid Eyes. she said i could hypnotize anyone because my eyes are a really light blue. what i was getting at with this is, no one expects me to be as down to earth as i am? possibly because of my looks?

now, mind you im not necessarily a nature person but if im spendin time outside its because im readin, writin, or takin care of my plants! and or of course, drinkin tea like a good UKnian.

m really excited to be able to go on a tea date as well! i think its a cute idea and it would be perfect for a first date. even if im obsessing about her, i want my Doll to feel as though it isn't going too fast. even if my mind is sputtering wildly, i want to try and go slow... dont wanna freak her out? m sure ya understand, Bunny anon?

~Mal 💕

#anon ask #irl love #obsessive love #idk man

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sheepisreading · 1 year

Text

Books I finished in Febuary 2023

The first three I grabbed at the same time at the boostore because I was bored and needed cheering up!

Naked, David Sedaris, 1997

This is an essay collection! I’d previously read Calypso by the same author and loved it. It’s a fun read, not hard to read or get into and doesn’t require too much concentration to read while still being very entertaining. I chose it as my next book for that reason, because I’ve been pretty fucking stressed recently and thought I could read it without spiralling. It worked! I loved it, it was funny and earnest, recounting amusing anecdotes and real learning moments. I love these kinds of essay collections heartfelt but self aware and comedic.

(Also, because I’ll probably never review it since I read it like six years ago: in the same vein I can only recommend Watsky’s essay collection “How to ruin everything”, probably even more than Naked! It’s I think less emotional or about emotions but I honestly loved it, it made me very happy, Watsky is awesome.)

Assembly, Natasha Brown, 2020

Fully picked this one up in the bookshop because the cover is pretty but after reading the blurb I immediately bought it. It’s fiction but clearly inspired by the authors life. The main character muses on her life so far and the decisions she’s made. It says clearly some shit that’s obvious but for some reason still an issue! The author clearly writes about the differences in class and upbringing between rich old money white people (her colleages) and hardworking new money black people (her). It’s about stuff we take for granted and casual racism. Very good ! It packs a punch in only a hundred pages.

Bluets, Maggie Nelson, 2009

Maggie Nelson writes “propositions” meaning short prose-poetry rambling-things about blue. I’m very into blue and gave a school presentation two years ago on the history of blue in art inspired by the vsauce video about it (which is amazing by the way, I rewatch it often), so I’ve been wanting to read it for a while. It’s good! Maggie Nelson writes beautifully about artists who have used the colour in the past (which is good inspiration) and her own relationship with blue, as well as with two people she cares about at the moment of writing. Her writing is absolutely beautiful! There is a lot of mention of romantic and physical longing which I cannot relate to, but that’s an issue I run into often and her way of discussing it remains interesting. It’s a beautiful book and its atmosphere stays with you.

The Nice House on the Lake vol. 1, James Tynion IV, 2021

Okay apparently the author is well known but I’ve never heard of him as I don’t really read comics and read like one graphic novel a year. As I understand it what I read (volume 1) spans the first six issues of the comic (out of 12). I grabbed it while browsing and loved the colours and was intrigued by the premise (having watched and thoroughly enjoyed Glass Onion not long before, I kinda thought it was a hardcore version of that, turns out: way more sci-fi shit in Nice House). I got home after my first day of internship, spent an hour doing jack shit and then picked this book up and read the whole thing straight. It’s amazing, there are fleshed out characters (some of them are queer yay), suspense, tension, emotion, it’s just really good! I will warn for like apocalypse, discussions of suicide and body horror though if that’s a thing you can’t go near! But if you can and are into weird sci-fi horror I recommend it! (I actually kind of like Walter I have to say, he just loves his friends !)

Steppenwolf, Hermann Hesse, 1927

!!! My mum is a big Hermann Hesse fan and always advocated for me reading one of his books. I happened upon this one at the used book market and immediately bought it because I noticed someone had anotated parts of it which. Yeah. Anyways, a bit of a slow start with the introduction written from an outside perspective from the narrator of the remainder of the book but absolutely hang in there! It's absolutely amazing; reflections on selfhood and the way we choose to live or not live our lives, connections with others, finding joy and excitement. It really did exceed my expectations. I thought there would be too much romance talk for my taste but it's so beautifully written that it's not an issue at all. It left a mark on me, that's for sure, it's a really powerful book.

#david sedaris #natasha brown #maggie nelson #james tynion iv #hermann hesse #book community #bookblr #bookish #books #book review #book isnt a word anymore

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liriostigre · 3 years

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hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost: you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

#btw!!!! i'm sorry!!! SO SORRY it took me weeks to reply 🤕#hope you're having good days <3 #💌

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

Text

I. “Sorry,” the guy says, his voice deep and sun-warmed. Dean steps back, extending his hands as if to say no problem, and then he recognizes the guy--it’s Castiel, the dude from the campus coffeeshop with the weird name that made a bunch of people look up, Dean included.

“You’re Castiel,” Dean says. “I’m Dean.”

“I’ve never been introduced to myself before,” Castiel replies, but he’s grinning, and he sticks out his hand for Dean to shake. Dean helps Castiel pick up the papers he dropped when Dean ran into him, and they walk to their next class together, because it turns out Religion 101 and Intro to Philosophy are in the same building. Castiel tosses Dean a peace sign as he turns towards his classroom, and Dean waves back.

II. A week later, Dean's outside his history professor’s office to get feedback on a paper when Castiel walks up, his head buried in a book. He looks up when Dean coughs, and then a smile grows on his face.

“How are you, Dean?” Castiel asks, as if there hasn’t been a gap in their conversation at all.

“I’ve been better. Dr. Turner is about to ream me over this essay. I may have...left it until the last minute.” Dean paused. “How are you?”

“Trying to finish reading this book before my next class. I may have...also left it until the last minute.” Castiel’s smile grows broader.

Just then, Dr. Turner opens his office door, and Dean smiles at Castiel ruefully.

“Hey, Dean,” Castiel says, just as Dean follows Dr. Turner into the office and is about to close the door, “I never got a last name.”

“Winchester. You?”

“Novak.”

III. “Who the hell would drive this monstrosity?” Benny, Dean’s coworker at the auto shop he works at after class, asks. They’re both staring at a massive gold Lincoln Continental from the seventies that has a popped tire and is, according to their boss, making “funny noises.”

“That would be me,” a familiar voice says, and Dean turns to see the shock of dark hair and vibrant blue gaze that indicates Castiel Novak.

“Oh, hey, Cas--Castiel,” Dean says.

“Cas is fine. But yes, I drive this...’monstrosity.’” Cas uses finger quotes and everything.

“You and Dean should get along, then,” Benny quips, “He acts like his car was God’s gift to mankind.”

“Hey!” Dean protests. “Baby demands respect.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow. “You call your car Baby?”

“So what?” Dean frowns at Cas, although it’s difficult, what with the twinkle he can see in the other guy’s eye.

“So can you fix my car?”

“We can,” Benny says. “For sure.”

After Cas leaves, Benny elbows Dean and winks at him. Dean decides to pretend not to know Benny for the rest of their shift.

IV. They see each other all the time after that, almost like the universe is pushing them together. When Cas sees Dean’s car, his dad’s old 1967 Chevy Impala, he tells Dean it’s a “ridiculous” car, and Dean only doesn’t write him off completely because he’s starting to like Cas.

They run into each other in the student union or the library and do homework. If they’re both at the coffeeshop where Dean first heard Cas’ name, they sit together. Cas shows Dean pictures of his cats and Dean tells Cas stories about what his little brother, Sam, who’s still in high school, has been up to. He learns that Cas’ whole family lives over five hundred miles away, that Cas chose this university to get away from them. Cas learns in turn that Dean is only thirty minutes from his hometown on purpose, in case his mom or brother need him.

Cas is a member of their university’s beekeeping club and he’s double majoring in philosophy and English. Dean doesn’t know what he wants to major in yet, maybe social work, so he’s getting all his pre-reqs out of the way. Cas says that it’s okay to not know what he wants to do, and Dean believes him.

This goes on for a couple of months, and at some point hardly a day goes by where they don’t see each other, and it’s kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to Dean.

V. Dean doesn’t often go to parties, but his friend Charlie who he met in DnD club found out about some frat having one this weekend and apparently they had to go, which is how he’s found himself standing awkwardly in the hallway of a random fraternity, nursing a potentially hazardous red Solo cup of jungle juice.

“Well hey there, stranger.”

Dean turns to see Cas holding a beer. “Hey,” Dean replies, feeling his face warm. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Cas, but Cas is his friend, and besides, Cas is cool. Interesting. He writes poetry and wears vintage button-down shirts and paints his own Converse. Dean feels like he himself is what would happen if you made the midwest a person: flannel, leather, ripped jeans, work boots, none of it to be aesthetic. This is just what he looks like.

He runs a hand through his hair nervously, takes a sip of his drink.

“Come here often?” Cas asks after a moment. The hallway is dark, the music audible even though they aren’t in the main room.

“Ha.” Dean swirls his jungle juice. “Charlie--I’ve told you about her, I think--she dragged me here. Pretty sure she’s making out with her girlfriend on a couch as we speak.”

“She threw you to the wolves?”

“A little.” Dean smiles ruefully. “I’m usually reading mystery novels on the weekends and she told me I was boring.” “That’s funny.” Cas smiles with just his eyes. “I would say you’re anything but boring.”

Dean shrugs. He’s glad for the dim lighting because he just knows his face is getting redder the longer this conversation goes on. He fidgets with the cuff of his flannel with the hand not holding his drink and stares off into space.

“Hey Dean?” Cas says suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Do you like me?” Cas tilts his head slightly, like he always does.

“What?” Dean sets his cup on the windowsill next to him. “Do I--what?”

“Just wondering. It’s alright if you don’t.”

Dean furrows his brow. “Do you...like me?” God, this feels like he’s in eighth grade again, crushing on the guy that would always let him borrow a pen in science class.

Cas considers for a moment. “Definitely.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

Cas somehow tilts his head further. “Well?”

“Uh, yes. I, uh--” Dean fumbles, but he can’t take his eyes off Cas, who knocks back the rest of his beer and sets the bottle on the floor before stepping into Dean’s personal space.

“Can I kiss you?” Cas is smiling.

“Please.”

At first, it’s gentle--just a tentative press of lips, Dean can feel the upward curve of Cas’ lips. Then it turns into something a little heavier as Dean’s brain gets back online and he remembers that he has hands, and that’s Cas’ tongue, tentatively exploring, and then not-so-tentatively exploring, and Dean’s pretty sure he might explode.

Eventually they part--Cas has backed Dean against the nearest wall, and Dean has his hands on Cas’ hips, pulling them together, and then Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s.

“Hey Dean?”

“Mmm-hmm?” “Do you think I could get your phone number?”

#ahh please no one hate that I kinda made dean shy here but shy dorky college au dean is my 1 weakness #destiel #mutual tags pls tell me if I'm annoying anhhhh bye #cillabee #usersheya #userstarry #casthyelle #offbeatwrites

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Gimme Shelter - 6

Sorry, it took me a while to write the next chapter but I was kinda busy. I hope you still want to know how things are going and growing between Henry and Kat. If you like this, please reward me with a comment, reblog or like 💜

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Kat Spencer)

Words: ~3.0k

Summary: Henry has to deal with a personal crisis and he finds shelter with his old rugby mate Sam and his sister Kat. She used to be Henry’s best friend a very long time ago. Will they be able to become friends again or maybe even more? Chapter 6: A disruptive factor and The Lonely Hearts Club meets again.

You can find the previous chapters and my other fics on my masterlist!

Warnings: RPF, mention of mental health issues, lots of poetry

Unbeta'ed. English isn't my first language. Mistakes ahead and they're all mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t know the real Henry Cavill or anyone who's related to him in any way, this is pure fiction and nothing more

Credits: Pics for the moodboard from Pinterest. Face claims: Kat = Jennifer Connelly

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81

So, enough of the small print...here we go:

**********

As much as Kat enjoyed her time with Henry and the feelings that blossomed between them there was this one disruptive factor called Mel.

When they were sitting on that rock the other day, almost kissing, when they were pouring their hearts out afterwards, it all felt so real, so possible, so tangible but whenever she saw Hen talk to Mel her heart sank and doubt started to nag at her hope. And he not only talked to Mel, he went to her place several times and so Kat went to London for contract negotiations with a publishing house with mixed feelings.

She wanted to trust Henry who always laughed it off, when Kat asked him about Mel, saying they were just having a neighbourly chat, but she also wasn't willing to be heading for the rocks blindly. She wasn't able to ignore the existence of Mel and the connection between her and the man Kat had fallen for again.

She missed Henry terribly when she was away though. Five days without him made her realize how close they had grown and how much she enjoyed being around him. Five lonely nights in a hotel bed increased her doubts and her worries, her jealousy and her insecurities. She couldn't stop her mind from creating worst case scenarios of Hen being with Mel. Of Mel seducing him, of Henry having sex with her, falling for the attractive, charming blonde who knew how to enchant a man. She imagined how he got trapped by this woman who'd never tried to hide that she was looking for a new husband, a new provider, after the last one had the audacity to die and leave her with a big, beautiful mansion but not with the amount of money Mel had hoped for. And in all these scenarios Kat was the one who was left behind with a broken heart. Again.

When she returned to St. Ives on Saturday afternoon she found Lydia working in the garden and Sam in the kitchen, baking bread. Her brother hugged her, leaving handprints of flour on her black shirt.

"How was London?"

Kat plopped down on a chair with a sigh. "Successful but exhausting. I can't believe that I actually liked living there. The traffic is horrible and all those people and the noise…"

"Good thing you're back in our beautiful, little sanctuary then. We've missed you. Even Darcy came looking for you every day." Sam shoved the loaf of bread he'd just moulded into the oven before he washed his hands and sat down at the table across from his younger sister.

"Really?" An amused smile played on Kat's lips. "And I thought Henry and Kal are all he cares about recently. How's Hen by the way? On the phone he said he's fine?"

"He is, I guess. No more panic attacks as far as I know. He's been in a pretty good mood all week, busy and full of energy."

Sam poured himself a glass of water and offered one to Kat too but she declined with a shake of her head.

"Where is he anyway?"

"At Mel's."

Kat's expression changed from curious to annoyed in an instant. "Again? What's he doing there?"

"Having a coffee and a chat, I guess," Sam shrugged. "I don't know the details."

Kat rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do you say it?"

Kat looked at Sam with a frown. "Nevermind."

"No, come on. Spill it. Are you implying I know something I won't tell you?" Sam got a little cross now.

"I'm not implying anything. I just don't understand why he spends so much time at her place and I can hardly believe your old rugby mate hasn't told you." She crossed her arms and gave her brother an expectant look.

"He told me what I've just told you. What do you think they're doing? Having a secret affair?" He let out a snort, laughing just at the thought of Hen and Mel but when he saw the frown on Kat's face it dawned on him. "Wait? That's what you're thinking? That something's going on between them? You're jealous?"

"Does that sound so far-fetched? She tries to dig her nails into every man who seems to be good husband material. She tried it with you and you don't need a crystal ball to know that she's for sure trying it with Hen too. And for the record...I'm worried about him, not jealous." Kat was all worked up now and Sam could easily tell that he'd hit a sore point.

"Henry is not an idiot, Kat. From my own experience I can tell you that Mel is anything but an enigma. I could tell what she's looking for after our first and only date and a man like Hen, who has to deal with gold diggers all the time, will see right through her without problems. There's no need to worry. And no need to be jealous." He grinned at her and Kat made a face. "Did you even listen to me? I've just told you that…"

"That you're not jealous. Yeah...yackety-yack. I know you, sis. You're in love with him. Don't try to deny it." Kat sighed and surrendered with a resigned smile. "Fuck, yeah and I feel like I'm sixteen again, Sammy. Confused and clueless. What is it about him that makes me feel like that? Why does it have to be so damn complicated?"

"It's not complicated. Trust him and listen to your heart."

"It's not that easy."

"No, obviously it's not. So maybe you should just ask him about Mel and work on your trust issues."

"It's not like I haven't asked him about her before. But I guess you're right. I'm gonna try again and talk to him tonight." She gave her brother a nod.

"At the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club?" Sam winked at her with a grin that made Kat chuckle.

"He's told you about it?"

"Yeah. He's talked about it all week. Running around with piles of books, volumes of poems as far as I could see. Copying entire pages by hand into a notebook. To be honest, I think it's the reason for his good mood."

****

Maybe, Kat thought, or maybe he just enjoys fooling around with Mel.

When Kat climbed up the rope ladder a few hours later she had managed successfully to avoid Henry up to this point. She had spent the rest of the day in her room, brooding over Sam's words, about Henry and Mel for the umpteenth time and about the club meeting of course. She was close to chickening out but she decided to get her shit together and to enjoy the time with Henry on their little stroll down memory lane. And maybe, just maybe, she would even find the courage to ask him about Mel.

"Kat!" Henry flashed her one of those billion dollar smiles when she entered the tree house. "There you are." He hugged her and gave her a look full of relief. "I haven't seen you all afternoon. I was a little worried you'd stand me up."

"Neighbourly duties?" Kat asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She gave him a smile and shrugged. "Well, you were not around when I came back…"

"Yeah...I was busy." He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Huh?"

"Sam said you went to visit Mel."

"Ah, yes. Yes, I did. You know we have a little chat every once in a while. She's...nice."

"How lovely."

"The room looks great, Hen."

The awkward silence that fell over the room made them both uncomfortable. The unexpected tension left Henry in a state of insecurity. He'd hoped for an easy time with Kat, some intimate moments to share but the start of the night wasn't very promising. He cleared his throat before giving Kat a goofy smile.

"Shall we begin? I've prepared a little something. A few poems and...yeah." He shrugged helplessly and to his big relief Kat nodded with a smile. "Of course."

It was only then that Kat realized that Henry had decorated the treehouse with loving care. Blankets and cushions on the floor and candles in the corner of the room created a very warm and cozy atmosphere and a huge pile of books showed her that Henry was very well prepared for the first meeting of the Lonely Hearts Club since 1999.

"Thanks, kitty. Let's sit." He plopped down beside the books, his long legs stretched out and Kat sat down cross-legged next to him, placing a little bluetooth speaker on the floor. "Prepare for some 90s flashback. I picked all the cheesy love songs we listened to non-stop." She started the playlist and soft music filled the air. Henry smiled at her and took a deep breath before he started to speak solemnly in his best statesman's voice.

The way he looked at her took her breath away for a moment, his gaze intense and pleading, he seemed so vulnerable it made her heart miss a beat. She wanted to kiss the insecurity and sadness that crossed his handsome face away but her own doubts made her fight the need to be close to him. Instead she took the notebook he handed her over and opened it. She stared at the name of the poem that was written down in Henry's neat handwriting on the first page.

"I hereby declare the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club open. Present are the founding members Katherine Elisabeth Spencer and Henry William Cavill."

Kat couldn't help but chuckle. He was such a dork.

"Would you do me the honor of reciting the first poem, dear kitty?"

She knew it all too well and yet she'd almost forgotten it existed. Forgotten or repressed, it didn't really matter, she still knew it by heart, since it was the very poem she had read countless times after Henry had broken her heart. The fact that he knew it too, that he'd chosen these verse to be read out loud made her wonder if it was as familiar to him as it was to her. She cleared her throat, closed the book and her eyes and started to recite.

"When we two parted by George Gordon Byron."

She paused and took another deep breath.

"When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this."

Kat flinched slightly when she felt Henry's warm hand in hers. She looked at him and she wasn't surprised when he continued, his voice warm and soothing like thick, golden honey.

"The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow—

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame."

The game was the same it used to be back in the days at Stowe. They took turns to read the stanza. The only difference was that they were holding hands now. Kat spoke the next words with a steady voice although on the inside she was trembling.

"They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me—

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well:

Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell."

She smiled at Henry, sensing that he needed her reinsurance for the last paragraph. He returned the smile and went on.

"In secret we met—

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears."

They sat in silence for several minutes, comfortable silence this time, the quiet connecting them in a way words never could.

"I've got another one you might like." Henry said softly after a while. He reluctantly let go of her hand, took the notebook and searched through the pages. "Here it is."

"Bring it on." Kat smiled at him, hardly able to hide the loving feelings that spread inside her chest and her belly. Henry nodded and began.

"My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety."

"That's beautiful, pop." Kat blushed under Henry's smirk when he heard the nickname slip from her lips. "William Wordsworth?" she guessed.

"Yes. I'd never heard of it before, but Mel showed it to me the other day."

Kat's smile faded like a shadow in the dark.

"Oh really, did she? So that's what you're doing when you meet? You read poems to each other?" Her voice had chilled in an instant, her body language switched from open hearted to closed off. Henry was confused by the sudden change of tone.

"Yes, she told me about it when I mentioned that I was looking for romantic poems by british poets. And no, that's not what we usually do."

"And what do you do? Usually?"

"Nothing special, as I've told you before. And honestly, Kat..it's none of your business anyway."

That felt like a slap in the face to her.

"Right...yeah...you're absolutely right. It's none of my business what you do or who you're fooling around with." Kat got up, tapping off non-existing dirt from her jeans with determined motions that showed how touched and churned up she was.

"Fooling around?" Henry got up too in a hurry, knocking his head on a branch that was part of the treehouse's roof. He cursed before he turned to Kat again. "You can't be serious. You don't really think I f...that I sleep with Mel, do you?"

"I don't know what to think, Henry. You spend so much time with her lately…"

"And I've told you it's harmless and I just visit our neighbour from time to time." He tried to take her hand but Kat took a step back, turning around to stare out of the window with a deep sigh.

"You still don't trust me." His voice was sad now and there was a note of disappointment too.

"I really want to, Henry. But it's so hard…" Her shoulders were trembling and her soft sobs told him she was crying. He hugged her gently from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I know, kitty. And I know that I'm the one to blame for this dilemma. But you have to believe me. There's nothing between me and Mel. I don't fuck her and I'm not interested in her. I only care about you. Okay?" The last words were nothing more than a whisper in her ear, a light breeze of tones that made her want to believe him. She nodded, leaning into his embrace but she wasn't able to give him a proper answer. The truth was she had no answer. She knew she loved him but what she didn't know was if she was going to allow herself to act accordingly.

"Listen, Kat. This might not be the right time nor place to do this, but I need to ask you something. I'm going to Jersey next week for my mum's 70s birthday and I wonder if you'd want to come with me?"

Kat turned around in his arms abruptly, taken by surprise by his question. He didn't let go of her waist and so she found herself closer than ever to him, his gorgeous face right in front of her. "You want me to go to Jersey with you?" He nodded. "As my plus one. Yes." She freed herself carefully from his embrace. "But…"

"Let me explain." Henry took a step back to give her some space. "My mum invited me months ago and I accepted...of course...but to be honest, I've dreaded that family gathering since day one. All eyes will be on me, everyone's gonna try to wrap me up in cotton wool, walking on eggshells around me, wondering if I'm okay." He sighed and shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. I'm beyond grateful to have a family that is worried about me, loving people who care, but it also stresses me out. Having you by my side would be very helpful and besides that, I would hate to be separated from you again. Those five days last week were long enough, Kat and don't even make me start with the 22 years prior. You have no idea how much I missed you." He gave her a sheepish smile and she couldn't help but return it. "I missed you too, Hen. But I'm really not sure if this is a good idea. Your parents hardly know me."

"Don't be silly. They remember you very well. You spent Christmas 1998 with us. Please don't say you forgot about that...my parents invited you after I spent the summer with your family here in St. Ives."

"Of course I remember that. It was the most lively and jolly Christmas of my childhood. All those people at your parents house, the chatter and singing and goofing about, it was such a stark contrast to Christmas with my family."

"See...you can have that again. A crowded, noisy place, loads of laughter, alcohol, fun and food. When I asked my mum if it's okay to invite you she was so excited, Kat. She'd love to see you again and so would my dad and my brothers. And I'm sure you're gonna like my sisters-in-law and all my nephews and nieces." Kat smiled.

"That sounds good."

"So you're in?"

"I don't know. Where would we stay? At your parent's?"

"No. I always stay at a small cottage near the beach when I visit them. I bought it a few years ago."

Kat started to chew on her lower lip.

"Two bedrooms." Henry added with a wink before making the next try to take her hands. This time she didn't pull back. "Please say yes, Kat. Let's spend some time together. We can stay there for a week or so. When the whole Cavill bunch leaves after the celebration, it will only be you and me and lots of time to...to bond again. So what do you say?"

*******

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill slow burn #slow burn

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badmoonyellow · 3 years

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HP HEADCANON: PARIS UNIVERSITY

𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓼 ✯ 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈

(click here for contents)

There are five different facultés (abr. fac) in Paris, each one called by a number and the name of a famous wizard/witch or a district in Paris. Each fac has its specificities and various pathways that should please most of the young students trying to find what they want to do with their life after they graduate

Paris I — Babel: Modern languages, dead languages, magical languages, magicology, magical literature, theoretical studies of magical and non-magical art

Paris II — Ruggieri: Astrology, astronomy, divination, theology, psychology, philosophy and sociology

Paris III — Nicolas et Pernelle Flamel: Alchemy, occult sciences, arithmancy and mathematics, magical and non-magical medicine, biology

Paris IV — Cluny: Botanics, care of magical creatures, potions, magical geology and crystal healing, elementary magic

Paris V — Kardec: Necromancy, spiritism, divination, transfiguration, illusionism and oneiric magic, hypnosis and psychology

French students either use the number or the name of the uni to refer to it, never both. Ex: “I did my masters at Paris IV”, “I was a teacher at Cluny for two years” or “Flamel has the best course for arithmancy”

Paris universities are known for being selective but welcome students from every social class: there are no tuition fees except for social security which is calculated on the income of the student or their household if they still live with their parents. The more you earn, the more you pay but it is capped to 20 galleons per student (roughly 450€). If you’re doing a joint honour degree in two different fac, you won’t have to pay twice.

Be careful with this because French bureaucracy is kind of a mess, especially when it comes to uni life. Most people working for the administration have a precise timetable they like to stick to and won’t be kind to you if you raise your voice, even if you’ve been waiting for 2h at their door because the only free time you had is during their lunch break. But sometimes, the right owl sent to the right person will be enough, so don’t hesitate to communicate!

Depending on which fac you’re attending, you’ll probably meet a lot of different people but since we’re French (a.k.a. judgmental), each fac has a typical profile of students:

Students from Babel are considered clever and cultivated but most people think they just don’t really know what they want to do with their life yet. They enjoy uni life in Paris and spend time hanging out with a great deal of foreign students from every part of the world, learning and researching for academic purpose. They create more or less harmful spells and like to talk in latin or ancient greek on a daily basis. They make inside jokes about politics and are the first ones to go on strike any time they don’t agree with the government’s decisions. Very diplomatic and charismatic but also kinda conceited since Babel was the first actual French magical faculté in the Sorbonne (this title is also claimed by the Perrault Institute). They love to debate about any topic of the wizarding world and for the most part, they know a lot about the non-magical world too since they study languages spoken by muggles as well.

Students from Ruggieri are more discreet and contemplative. They are passionate and having your astral chart drawn up by one of them feels like becoming an open book, even though knowing about astrology doesn’t always mean being intuitive. They aren’t known for being empathetic though, and they have a tendency to despise divination techniques that aren’t based on what’s written in the stars (students from Kardec can tell). They love mythology, mind games and poetry. They often go to the countryside beyond Paris’ suburbs to escape light pollution and if you’re lucky, they might invite you to their next nocturnal picnic in Seine-et-Marne.

Students from Flamel are hard-working and competitive since medicine studies (and other courses taught in this university) follow the numerus clausus method. You have more chances to see a Flamel student at the BAM (Bibliothèque Académique de Magie, en. Academic Library for Magic) than attending any of the cool parties young French witches and wizards organise throughout the year. Actually, since the BAM is physically part of Paris I, this has created a long-time resentment among students who all claim priority to access the Library. Flamel students are ambitious and passionate by their field but suffer from a great deal of pressure since failing one exam can be eliminatory. They also have the worst writing ever.

Students from Cluny are seen as the weird hippies of the academic wizarding world. Always down for going on a trip or testing new things. Their shared interest in elementary magic makes them very welcoming and warm since they tend to focus on how a group is stronger than an individual and how you can always seek for help in others (“others” sometimes meaning plants, animals or rocks). They are very genuine and you won’t know for sure if they are really down-to-earth or if they constantly keep their head in the clouds. They love going outdoors and escape the city from time to time but they can also spend hours (days) underground cultivating fungi. Laugh now if you want to, but they get the best kind of psychedelics and liquors for your next party and they won’t bring any if you make fun of them. Also, they throw their own parties in cool speakeasies all over the Mines. Keep your ears open if you want to get the password!

Students from Kardec are actually the real anarchists of the academic landscape, even though Babel tries to steal their far-left thunder. Non-conformists, skeptical and teasing, they love throwing some unpopular opinion in a debate and watch how it takes. You’ll see them at protests and art events since they hang out a lot with students from the ENSBAMO and the Académie de Musique. They generally have no filter whatsoever and are also trying to figure out what they want to do with their life but even though they seem a bit puzzling at times, they’re really sweet. They might know their way around the Mines better than students from Cluny and believe me when I tell you this: they throw the best Halloween party every year — apparently being located in a cemetery helps a lot.

Of course, these are reputations, not distinctive character traits and every student is different from the other so don’t worry: you’ll fit right in wherever you want to go!

#harry potter #hp headcanon #hp headcanons #hp hc #hp hcs #beauxbatons #paris #hp rpg

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magnus-the-maqnificent · 3 years

Note

okay so im reading it right now and im loving the atmosphere youre setting up!!

"It was too early in the morning for this." so true king😔✊🏾

oh man magnus just gave his hand to alec i-

""I shouldn’t, Alec couldn’t help but think. I shouldn’t - he could betray me. I can’t always rely on him. He is-

Ah, fuck it." i mean. its magnus bane. i wouldnt refuse either

"until that scout had found him one day, slapped him senseless" honestly this part of the show intrigued me cause it implies that everyone got slapped before they accepted the card and honestly getting slapped by gong yoo is such a jarring visual.

"But these eyes… these eyes would be the last light left for Alec when the open sky was closed to them and everyone was doused in darkness." dude youre writing actual poetry are you aware of that???

OH FUCK RAPHAEL IS HERE???

zara is also here😐

[also im listening to a ballad rn and it is making me emo😭]

"Besides, if someone as beautiful as you fed me poison, I’d gladly eat it.” 😳bruh sdfgfdsdlaejdf

" I know we’ll be walking out together.” me who has seen squid game and knows exactly how this game goes:😑i pretend i do not see this

alec's backstory is giving me actual pain why

“I don’t want the world. I want you ,” Alec said" the way this line made me cry both in the books and your fic😭😭

cant believe both dark!alec and punk!alec make a show in this fic(i say punk, but he just got like 2 piercings)

ah man that was a roll coaster of emotions but i loved it!!!

I liked how you paced out the different scenarios and blended them together which created a very intriguing story! The characterization of the characters were written smoothly and this being written from alec's pov was a great choice! i genuinely enjoyed reading this!!

its late here so i have to go but thank you for writing this !! (btw ive been binging your other fics all day and i honestly love them so much)

also i was so suspicious when magnus was introduced as 001👀👀 glad to see my instincts(and me having watched squid game) came handy😌

AYYYY YOU READ IT :D

This fic is a train wreck in slow motion lol we all know what's coming but we just can't stop reading 😂😂😂

Yep, everyone definitely got slapped by gong yoo 🤣 idk who slaps them in this fic but I was imagining gong yoo himself while I wrote sooo yeah

No but thanks for making me aware of it 🥰🥰🥰

YEP. POOR RAPHAEL. no regrets for Zara though I genuinely enjoyed killing her ✌

[Ooh which ballad is it? 👀]

MAGNUS IS A LIL SIMP OKAY

*pat pat* it's okay things get better for him 🥺

That was the point, yes 🤭

HE HAS THE RANGE OKAY 😂

ASDDHKJGFS THANK YOUUUU 🥺🥺🥺 also I hope you're enjoying reading my other fics too

Magnus’s number was intended to be foreshadowing, yes 😎

#asks #blues and then purple pink asks #look at me reacting to your reactions lmao #live reaction #squid game au #this is why we can have nice things

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callmepippin · 3 years

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ok so i was tagged by the lovely @lexiklecksi for the 11/11/11 tag, the rules are: answer the 11 questions she asked me, make up my own 11 questions and then tag 11 ppl to answer those (so if you want you can skip to the questions at the bottom lmao). however as a fair warning: this got Way too long probably bc im rambly today. i tried to limit the stream of consciousness but….

1. current musical obsession: Frank Ocean and related sort of neo-r&b stuff - while writing this im also discovering Childish Gambino’s “Awaken, My Love!” (and also the song Golden Brown, but not bc im listening to it but bc im learning it on both guitar and piano)

2. 3 things i always take with me:

- wallet (or at least my id)

- phone (&earphones)

- cigarettes&lighter

3. what (or who) i miss most in lockdown: i dont rly remember? im so used to the situation by now that i kind of forget to miss what i did when things were “normal”... but i guess going to bars w/ friends, and just being able to go shopping when i need smth

4. pick: either only read 1 book or only read books picked by someone else: i wouldn’t be able to only read one book for the rest of my life! so definitely the second option (esp if i can pick the person who picks the books)

5. why i found your blog/followed you and if i intend to stay: uhh you followed me and when i checked your blog i liked the vibe i guess? also you were v nice in the tags of my music stuff! also ya i like it here, so im staying for a while

6. when and why did i last cry: i genuinely dont know for sure.. the last time i specifically remember crying was my granddad’s funeral, which is three yrs ago this month, but i do know ive cried once or twice since then, i just dont remember for sure when and why.

wait i do remember, i think the last time was when i saw Richard Says Goodbye (live music and movies or books are basically the only reason i rly cry, im not an emotional crier, dont know why).

7. who holds the key to my heart: my partner of five (and a bit) years, whom i love Very Much! (although ofc my heart is not locked, i have so much love to give, just romantically i am very much taken)

8, pick one: star wars/star trek, dobby/gollum, white/black magic, flying/teleportation, time travel: past/future?

- Star Wars

- Gollum (even though i have read hp but still havent read lotr, ive read the hobbit like 4 times tho)

- i think the hard dichotomy btwn white/black magic or like light/dark and good/bad in most fiction is often v flawed bc thats not how the world works, everything is grey areas (e.g. the Jedi are not better than the Sith, both have deeply flawed philosophies). the Force (or any magic for that matter) is not inherently good or evil, it just is. nature isnt abt good or evil, isnt abt opposites but abt balance.

and especially if you work with the occult and magical, i think thats all abt walking the edge between light and dark, life and death, night and day, good and bad etc…

so to answer the question: grey magic lmao, its all abt balance

- teleportation i think, bc while flying is very cool, i think teleportation has more practical uses (although also has danger involved, such as what happens if you teleport into a space that is already occupied by a person or an object? but for the sake of argument, prolly teleportation)

- do not even get me started on time travel.. the implications of time travel to the past are…… complicated to say the least (it only works if you believe in hard determinism, which i wholly do not). so in a practical sense, def to the future (although that is also Problematic within the constraints of our four-dimensional universe/experience).

in a philosophical sense though, ignoring all the paradoxes and laws of time and space, id still pick the future (or maybe no time travel at all), bc i think the past is the past for a reason. we remember it, we learn from it, but ultimately we must leave it behind.

my philosophical problem with traveling to the future is more that you cant just. skip life. so if you travel to the future, it has to be way beyond your own life and direct influence, or youll interfere with yourself and your own future, and thats scientifically, psychologically /and/ philosophically a v bad idea all round, i think.

9. which thoughts keep me awake at night: almost never specific thoughts, but quite often anxiety abt the near future. but theres no like, lingering issues that keep me awake.

10. what id do with you if we were locked up together for 24hrs: i think i’d really like to write with you! make poetry, song lyrics, make art! bc we could rly learn from each other i think and also we could just rly pick each others brain abt mundane, important and transcendental stuff ya know?

11. ask anything: do you have concrete, long term plans for the future, maybe even backup plans? a clear vision of how the rest of your life is going to go? or are you more the type to do what makes you happy now and figure it out as you go along?

my own questions (large variation in vibes and weight, i know):

describe your favourite colour using other senses (like what sound, smell, feeling or w/e do you associate with it)

what’s the best thing that happened to you in the last week, last month and last year?

what’s the one thing/what are the things that help(s) you get up in the moring and keep putting one foot in front of the other?

are you a leftie? (warning: there is a correct answer)

do you play/have you ever played a musical instrument? (and for the sake of completeness, yes i am counting singing as well)

do you have one thing (e.g. a song, movie, book or smth else) that never fails to bring you joy?

do you have one (or more) person(s) you feel you could still hit up after ten yrs of radio silence and you’d still vibe?

what’s your favourite song lyric/line from a poem/quote? and why?

who was your first celebrity crush? (if you’ve ever had one obvsly)

what’s smth you’re looking forward to? could be specific, could be a general thing like a driver’s licence or your own apartment or w/e

this one is specifically to feed my curiosity, indulge me: why did you follow me?

congrats, you’ve managed to reach the end! again, very sorry for the rambles, thanks for sticking around. im tagging @alt-heidi, @terdiscussie, @a-soul-to-cling-to, @ontvreemd, @sarahhnghae and i guess whoever fuckin feels like it? i literally can’t think of 11 ppl on this hell site, so if i forgot you its not personal. if we’re mutuals you’re especially tagged.

#this was v fun actually #i was tagged to do this like 3 weeks ago but ya know #adhd and stuff #i actually have another one in my backlog as well #i think ill look into that as well now

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sagscrib · 3 years

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HI TAKOKO THATS SO CUTE CAN I USE IT (also please take this as also a question inviting you to rant about takemichi!!! i would love to hear your hot takes)

FLAPS!! absolutely u can use takoko. one day i’ll help fill up the tag sdjkh

I have. so many thoughts abt takemichi.

i think hes a poet! when he writes hes very cynical and HEAVY on the metaphors. his style isnt exactly Smooth and Flowy either there’s a lot of spots where it just gets rough. if it were a texture itd be like. slush. when he’s in captivity he does a lot of reading and literature analysis. this post sponsored by my special interest in poetry

iirc in the udg artbook theres a note on his design page that says he was loyal to “the brothers” (as opposed to just mondo) which means 1) he knew daiya and was His bodyguard too and they were just as close (which. considering takemichi was the most important person to mondo outside of hopes peak. is Pretty Close) and 2) he and mondo have known each other for YEARS. timelinewise if im doing my math correctly the latest daiya could have died would be Mondo’s first year of high school (though im willing to bet it was earlier just kinda based on how he talks about him and his death ingame, which, in his memory, would have been just a few months beforehand). considering takemichi is Also stated to be 1 year younger than mondo then the earliest they could have met was during mondos last year of middle school. i choose to believe they met in his second year tho. just 4 fun

also irt to all that i DO believe in the daiya takemichi father son dynamic so much. i usually write takemichi as being a foster kid with not the best guardians? so he stays with the oowadas more nights than not. and daiya cares about him so much. michi and daiya r both trans and my evidence is i want them to be and daiya calls takemichi little man All the Time

because takemichi is tiny and not intimidating i imagine that he met the oowadas and THEN joined the gang later, not the other way around. he met mondo in middle school and they got in a fight and when daiya came to pick mondo up and saw this kid with hair he clearly cut himself saying that his guardians werent gonna show up and he’d like to start walking before it got dark he was like. uh oh. sonboy. new sonboy.

later when daiya’s old bodyguard had to move away michi was like. ill bodyguard. i can fight. and daiya was Not for it. so takemichi decided to start working out to prove he could do it and, along with getting his hands on every book and video on proper technique he could, he joined a forum. and i KNOW theres no basis in canon for this but kenshiro and yuta r also on the forum to talk abt mma and hokuto shinken/ track and field respectively and they become internet friends. i just think itd be neat

obviously im big on takemichi and takaaki teaming up in towa (i usually call this dynamic notdad bc like. takaaki would obviously be so hesitant to be a father again for so long but theyre absolutely family). in some tls takaaki finds out the results of the killing game while in towa and hides it from takemichi. sometimes they find out together. sometimes they find out after the future foundation rescues them. depends

SPEAKING OF FUTURE FOUNDATION. all the captives (minus. yuta and komaru.) work there after the events of udg. ive never seen the dr3 anime and i dont plan on it im right

takaaki and takemichi share an apartment (because. again. family) until takaaki marries hiroko. takaaki ends up legally adopting takemichi so hiro and him ARE brothers (plus one kid that takaaki and hiroko have together. three of them)

all the captives (plus aoi and hiro) are pretty close postgame. ayaka will take any opportunity to be a big sister to takemichi (this usually means lighthearted bullying and stealing his poetry notebooks) and takemichi and fujiko are absolutely siblings. (sidenote i think itd be nice if fujiko got into pottery making. making manga was something she used to do with her little brother and it gets hard to do for a while but shes still creative at heart! so she makes bowls and little sculptures and stuff. she tries to throw out the ones that turn out wrong but takemichi always snags them so theres a shelf in his kitchen full of lumpy and discolored pottery)

bonus round -takemichi is 5′2″ -his birthday is february 29 -he has bpd -his favorite color is lavender -his singing voice sounds a lot like keaton henson -he calls fujiko “jiko” -the son he adopts is named genki and he calls him monkeybread or little guy and genki calls him daddo (it’s like kiddo but dad) -hes always and forever ashamed in his taste in music (its mostly bad indie folk punk stuff) -he has accidentally called daiya dad on several occasions but daiya just laughed and went with it -he accidentally called takaaki dad once and takaaki got quiet and upset so takemichi didnt do it again until a good few years after he was officially adopted -he accidentally called takaaki daiya once and Broke Down -he calls hiroko mom on purpose all the time -more than once daiya and mondo auctioned off a date with him to his fanclub and didnt tell him until the day of

these arent all my thoughts but ive been typing for. probably an hour. and this is long as hell. thank you so much for letting me infodump dkjsjhksd

#asks #takemichi yukimaru #i have a kinda comprehensive backstory fic written for him #and almondblossomstc on ao3/ maximum-overdad on here is the person to go to for good takaaki and daiya content #they also have good takoko fics!#i genuinely couldnt tell you why my brain has been stuck on takemichi for so long #i made my first playlist for him in december of 2019 and its been all downhill from there #long post

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