#want to post the whole poem but it is not time yet

[shadowsingerofnight]

So um, to be honest I don’t know what this is. It was on a whim, written in one go so don’t take it too seriously lol

It was inspired by this post right here, by @dawntoducks

Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door slamming shut brought Elain back to reality.

Standing in the middle of the sitting-room, she glanced to the window, to the city beyond. Velaris was in full bloom, children running and laughing just outside. She could even spot some kites flying this and that way, guided by tiny, giggling kids.

She had always thought kites to belong in fairytales, somehow never considered actually playing with one. She marvelled at them.

She kept watching- stalling, as one little girl accidentally bumped into the big magnolia tree outside the gate and let go of the slim thread she was holding. A cry sounded, the girl immediately getting up and jumping towards the sky. Desperately trying to reach high, high, higher- like the hurt didn’t matter, like she just wanted to get back what she had lost. But it was too late.

Elain blinked. Once. Twice.

Her heart began racing, the rhythm akin a horse’s gallop. Frantic, but with purpose.

It was always like that, her soul recognising a song she sometimes could faintly hear herself. A poem that had existed within her since the dawn of time, somehow.

“Are you okay?”

Somewhere among the blooming trees…

Elain had never heard a voice like that. Not when she was human, not after. Non since she had heard his for the first time. A voice so stark and yet warm. So deep and yet melodious.

She could feel it, tingling on her skin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, still not looking at him.

Outside, on a magic wind, the girl’s kite flew right back in her arms. Elain smiled faintly.

“I… felt something,” he replied. “Like you were calling for me.”

She was? Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised her. Elain still didn’t quite understand how this whole thing worked. But could he actually feel when she was thinking about him?

It was quite a lot.

“That’s why I thought you were in danger.” He went on, “I assumed it was the only way you could call for help.” His tone was low, steady. Like he didn’t want to scare her away.

Because I know it wouldn’t be me you’d call if you could help it.

She hated that he didn’t understand. She hated that she could not bring herself to tell him the truth, how his smile was the first thing she saw in the morning. That his laugh sounded in her ears with every step she took. That his hands were what she imagined when she… Red stained her cheeks.

She hadn’t yet looked at him, but she could just see his head dip to the side as if wondering what she was thinking about. Or rather, was she really thinking about what he suspected?

At the top of the tallest mountain…

“Elain,” he whispered and then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Elain furrowed her brows, but her chin remained dipped.

He sighed unevenly and then spat, voice higher, “I’m sorry the Cauldron made me your mate. I’m sorry I’m so abhorrent you can’t even look at me. Just tell me you’re fine and I’ll go.” His arms slackened at his sides. Defeated.

Elain’s head snapped towards him then. Her eyes met one of russet and one of gold, like the brightest of suns on a fall day. She saw the tears first, the same ones she could feel marking her own cheeks.

In the depths of all the seas…

“You-,” she sniffed. “You stupid, stupid prick.”

She saw his eyes widen the instant she closed the distance between them and pointed an accusatory finger to his chest.

“You know nothing!” She yelled. Actually yelled.

Elain wiped some of the tears away, but they kept coming like an overflowing river. Feelings buried so deep came afloat.

“Don’t you understand I can’t look at you?” She demanded more than asked.

“How can you not see I’m burning?” Her index finger kept poking his chest of its own volition while his face had paled alarmingly. He was looking down at her, tears glistening in the light.

On a journey so certain…

“You think I don’t feel anything”? Elain sniffed again. “Well, you’re so terribly wrong! I feel so much every time I look at you, I don’t know what to do.” Words were flowing and she didn’t even have to think them.

“You live with me every second of every day. You render me useless every time I think of you because all I want is to touch you and kiss you and hold you and never let go.”

He caught her wrist and flattened her hand above his heart. It was beating so fast.

“I want you, Lucien.” She could feel him tremble underneath her palm, just when he closed his eyes as to savour her words. “I just don’t want to burn you.”

Lucien smiled, so sweet and wicked at the same time, eyes so full of hope she cursed herself for not telling him sooner. “Didn’t you hear?” He whispered, his breath caressing her neck. “I’m the Lord of Flames.”

I search for light and I find you.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sarah j maas #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucien fic

[bewitcherella]

paradoxes pardon people perpetually, possibly paying painful prices—palatable power plays.

#mine #poetry #want to post the whole poem but it is not time yet #someday soon #wait YOU CAN MAKE GIFS #picked the first photo that wasnt my kid #thank you hermes #thank you hades #thank you apollo #im high and just so emo and please bear with me #fire gif

[rosicheeks]

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

18: Do you believe in karma?

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

9. Still can’t believe it but yes, 2 poems 🥺🫶

18. Yes

22. Yup 😇

51. Depends on the situation and how badly I was hurt.

#im still kinda speechless that someone would write a poem about me??? #2 absolutely wonderful people wrote me poems on here #1 was on anon awhile ago and I still look back at it #and the other on is recent that I haven’t had a chance to process yet #I like to hold on to them and read them a few different times #keep it to myself for just a little bit #before I post them #(also I usually take forever to figure out how to reply but that’s different lol) #only gone skinny dipping once with my two best friends at the time #it was just at my friends back yard pool so it wasn’t like in public or anything lol #pretty tame #but super fun 🥰 #late at night and we skinny dipped under the full moon #grudges #I don’t think I tend to hold grudges tbh? #but it really depends on the situation #I was thinking to myself and was like do I hold grudges? and I was going to say no but then I thought of this one thing/person #I’m still a lil spicy over that whole thing #but I think it’s just cause it hurt me more than I wanted (expected) #so I think I’m still kinda healing from that? #which I find ridiculous and dumb for a lot of reasons but it’s whatever #I’m just a crybaby sometimes hahaha #but then other things happen and maybe I should hold a grudge over but it’s not a big deal to me #so I think it all depends on how big and deep the wound is and if I need time to heal #cause I think that’s all that grudges are - me trying to heal and maybe not doing it in a super healthy way #thanks for the questions 🥰 #ask #lovely mutuals

[kagamesayu]

v!genshin x gn!reader

includes . diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli t/w . 18+ mdni, gn!reader, nsfw, fluff wc: 2.3k a/n . first time posting my writing :,> hope u enjoy! reblogs appreciated ✧

Diluc who loves waking up with you wrapped in his arms, snuggling into his warmth in the winter. Eyes soft as he watches you breathing softly, nose buried in his chest as your fingers gripped onto his waist.

Diluc who loves watching you try to sneak a glance at him working while you sit on the couch in his office, wondering when the hell he’d finally pay attention to you. And he’d be such an ass about it too. You’d get up and stand behind him, leaning on his shoulders and pressing your lips to his ears and neck. 

“Baby, take a break you’ve been working all day.” Really he’d been working for a few hours, you just wanted his love and attention.

“Soon my love,” He’d chuckle and press a long kiss on your cheek before dragging his lips to your own. “Just a little while more darling. Be patient for me.”

Diluc who loves you for the little things you do, like trying to cook him breakfast everyday even when you have a maid to do it. Or when you try to knit him a sweater, totally forgetting his pyro vision that kept him much too warm. Or even when you tried to serenade him by learning the lyre in a span of 2 weeks.

It didn’t matter to Diluc. Because he’d cherish all the food you made for him - specifically for him. Even if it were burnt, he wouldn’t care. Cause you put your time and effort into it. 

It didn’t matter to Diluc that the sweater you made him might have some loose ends, or that it might have been much too big for him. He’d just say that it felt like you were giving him a hug. He’d never tell you how he loved the domesticity of the entire situation. He’d cherish it for years and years and hold it tight if you ever were to leave.

Diluc who loves fucking you silly with his huge dick, and he doesn’t even know how to use it right. It’s just so big that it hits all the right spots. He opens your legs wide, watching his dick moving in and out of you. Your hands move to hold onto his hand that wrapped around your waist, the other holding onto the bed under you as you were drilled into the mattress. 

Diluc who loves to watch tears run down your face because of how good you feel. ‘Stop’ you say? But he hasn’t even cum yet! Don’t be so selfish! His stamina built from all the years of training definitely came to help him. 

Diluc whose oversensitive dick throbbed inside you as he lay beside you after cumming twice. His cum dripping around his hard cock and out of your hole, onto the bed sheet he definitely needed to get changed. He hums, nose buried in your neck as he breathes in the smell of sex, sweat and you. He’ll leave another bite right then and there - doesn’t matter if he already painted your body with hickeys, you can have more!

And it definitely didn’t matter to him that you might have played a note wrongly on the lyre and you couldn’t exactly stay on tune. Because you learnt a whole new skill just for him and he’d always say that you were a much better bard than Venti. You had the voice of an angel and you fucking bet that he was smiling softly, cheeks flushed pink as he tapped his finger along to your music, eyes trained on your fingers playing the lyre, lips shaking nervously. And afterwards he’d give you a hug and tell you that you ‘did so well my little Eagle. so proud of you.’ and he’d place a kiss right on your lips, smiling.

---

Kaeya who loves to kiss your neck, only to watch you shiver, lips curling up and squealing as he laughs at you. You playfully hit his exposed chest before pressing a cheeky kiss against it. The second you do that he holds onto your waist, pulling you close so when you look up you look right into his eyes. 

“Payback.”

“I’ll show you payback.” Kaeya who pulls you into an alley to makeout. You both leave the alleyway dishevelled and panting with red covering your necks and chests.

Kaeya who wrote his first poem for you during the Windblume Festival and beamed proudly as you read it. A smirk on his face once you read the part where he wanted to do...things with you.

Kaeya who entertains your thoughts by giving his own insight and questions. (you both were once in a heated debate on whether birds looked better with arms or not) 

“Okay but imagine if they had arms. They could fly and punch!” “Snowflake, would they even be able to fly if they had arms?”

“...fuck you’re so smart babe-”

Kaeya who loves to reply to you either snarkily or flirtily. He loved giving you a fuckboy face, lips caught in his teeth as he smirked, giving you those eyes. Sometimes you return the face, most times you look away embarrassed and questioning life.

Kaeya who would teasingly pull down his shirt just to show you more of his chest, wanting to see you drool for him.

Kaeya who treats you as a pillow prince/princess, living only to give you pleasure. He could eat you out for hours, loving the way you trembled from overstimulation as he sucked on you, licking and biting every piece of flesh available to him. Absolutely loved to fuck you till you were crying, begging him for more in a babbled voice.

Kaeya who loved to have you cockwarm him as he did his paperwork, giving you praises as you sat nicely on his lap, like the good princess/prince you were. He loved to tease you sometimes, asking you to move a little just to feel you grind against him, your velvet walls clamping down on him.

Kaeya who in his worst, most stressed and touch starved moments would cling to you and ask you to ride him. Whose eyes fill with over-stimulated tears as he came for the nth time, shooting blanks into your hot body as you rode him relentlessly, cooing at him and kissing the tears away.

Kaeya who loved to cook with you, loved how he could always hug you and give you kisses as you prepared your meals. Loved how you were always within reach of him. He’d finish his chicken skewers and just go up behind you, rest his head on your shoulders/on your head and sigh happily. His hands would always either be on your hips or on the counter, trapping you in.

Kaeya who always wakes up earlier than you just to watch you breathing softly. He lays his head on your chest, listening and feeling your heartbeat. Always reminds him that you’re alive. Always makes him feel better if he gets nightmares.

Kaeya who - even if he says it everyday - doesn’t feel that he could ever really show you how much he loved you. He’d had flings before and all those feelings were nothing in comparison to how he felt with you, around you, for you. Sometimes his face would flush darkly, heart beat fast as butterflies would race in his stomach, his chest. His skin would feel warm and he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling around you. 

He’d never show how flustered he actually is though. He’d always bury his face in your neck, lay small kisses against your skin as he whispered ‘I love you’s.

---

Childe who loves getting things for you. All the way from little trinkets to outfits, sometimes jewellery that he specifically gets handcrafted just for you. He loves spoiling his little pet. Anything for you. Anything.

Childe who loves watching you from a distance, eyes always trailing your form, watching you do even the most mundane tasks. He’d watch you go around, buying food, or even just doing laundry. He loves watching you do the most domestic of tasks. It always makes him feel like he has something to come home to. That after every mission he has someone to come home to, to hold, to love.

Childe who loves teasing you - be it in the bedroom or out. He loves to say something and watch you struggle to answer, an amused smirk always on his face as he watches you flush and struggle to grasp for words. Loved having you that way on his cock and tongue as well, trying to breathe as you babbled nonsense - you were always pleading him to either keep going or to stop. In the end it didn’t matter, he does things at his own pace. 

“Sl-oow down please - nghh! Gonna - ahh~!” Your body spasms, hands gripping his hair as he continued eating you out through your orgasm.

“Doesn’t feel like ya want me to stop?” He chuckles, slick dripping from his mouth down to his chin. “You can give me ‘nother, right pretty? Wanna keep tastin’ you~”

Childe who loves having you sit on his lap, panties soaked and in his pocket. You could be impaled on his cock or just riding his thigh, he didn’t care. He just loved to see you act this way, bashful and embarrassed yet so needy. He loves having you this way, particularly when he’s giving commands to his underlings. And if anyone were to look too long, well...they would be ‘missing’ tomorrow. 

Childe who loves the sparkle in your eyes, the absolute excitement whenever you see him, the overwhelming joy when he does something for you or gives you something, the terror and concern whenever he comes to you, all bloodied and hurt. He loves seeing every expression you give him, every emotion he could feel from you. It almost makes up for the lack thereof from his side. 

Childe who never needs to act around you. Who smiles and frowns whenever he wants. Who laughs genuinely whenever you make a joke and scoffs - playfully - when you give him a terrible nickname (One of his personal favourites was the one time you had called titty twistin’, panty lickin’, toe lovin’ dick wad. It cracks him up everytime.)

Childe who looks at you like you strung up the stars everytime you patch up his wounds. Or make food for him. Or hold him tight at night when he misses his family. Childe loves deeply and selfishly and never wants to let you go. You’ve ruined him for anybody else, so take responsibility.

---

Zhongli who looks for you in a crowd of people, and when he sees you smiles that gorgeous smile of his. He’ll quicken his pace to reach your side before offering you his hand to accompany him for his walk. 

Zhongli who greets you everyday with a kiss on the forehead, then to the right cheek, then the left before finally stopping at your lips. Nobody knows when he started doing this, and who were you to stop him? He holds your face in his hands and looks at you like you’re Celestia. Like you’re his world. 

“Good morning Honey.” His voice is low and breathy, content as he goes in for another kiss.

“Mm…good morning handsome.” 

Zhongli who very regularly buys gifts for you. With Childe’s money of course. Personalised chopsticks, hair pins, handkerchiefs, vases, flowers, etc. He’s a traditional man and loves showering his beloved in gifts, even if he didn’t buy it with his own mora.

Zhongli who is mature and talks with you about any misunderstandings. Who never lets an argument go too far and always knows when to stop and give you space. He always calms down before you - and you didn’t know if it was because he’s older or because that’s just Zhongli - and brings you back down to his level. 

Zhongli who makes you use your words when asking him for things. For hugs, for kisses, for sex. Even while you’re lying on the bed, face warm and sweaty, panting and drooling and dumbed down. He almost cruelly asks you questions about whether you want more, if you want him inside, if you want to go another round. 

Zhongli whose love-making and fucking styles are different. Love-making consists of sweet kisses, gentle touches, breathy moans and intimately long looks. When Zhongli fucks, he becomes a beast. A dragon who plays with his possessions as he likes. There are more marks left littering your body, bruising kisses, tears and so much more cum.

Zhongli whose marks glow a bright yellow when he fucks you. His arms glow brightly and his horns come out. It won’t matter what gender you are, he has you in a mating press with your thighs above his shoulders and his hips at a brutal pace. You have to wear long pants or skirts to cover the bruises and scratches left on your hips. And even though Zhongli apologises for his roughness, you can tell he  doesn’t mean it with the way he smiles proudly at the way you stumble around.

Zhongli who can never control himself when he sees you in his clothes. Doesn’t matter if you’re dressed underneath his huge coat or if you’re wearing one of his white dress shirts and only that. He can feel his dragon instincts acting up, his cock twitching and he can barely hold himself back before pouncing on you. Who can blame him though when you look so cute? Really you should blame yourself for getting into this situation, silly!

Zhongli who loves walking around Liyue with you. It doesn’t matter if you’ve walked past the same road like five times, he just wants to have company! You walk with your hand in the crook of his elbow, listening to him go on and on about ‘history’ which is really just him talking shit about Venti. Do you say anything and interrupt his one sided podcast? No. 

#genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin imagine #diluc x reader #diluc x you #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #childe x reader #childe x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

pairing - bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none!! just tooth rottingly sweet fluff <3

word count - 1.7k

author's note - based on these two requests!! i'm also trying a new post format... what do we think?? I promised you i'd get a couple of xmas fics out before the 25th... I lied. apologies!! forgive me. title taken from the poem The Owl by Edward Thomas.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

He whispers the words, timid and reserved, directly into your ear as if he's worried someone else will hear. It's only the two of you sat on the couch in your shared apartment, but Bucky's nervous.

Your head whips around in shock, trying to play it cool. Failed.

"Are you... are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

You grin, big and blinding, the beams of it radiating into Bucky's bones. It settles into his muscles, eases the tension from his shoulders.

You try not to make a big deal of it, try to keep your excitement under wraps. But you've been waiting for him to say those words for almost six years.

"I want to do Christmas this year."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He hates the cold.

No, he's traumatised by the cold.

Years spent frozen, genetically modified and locked in a glorified freezer. Every gust of wind, every flake of snow reminds him of the darkest days with no light to be seen. His blood may run hot, but he feels like his heart is yet to thaw. He debates moving to the desert at least ten times a day.

Then he looks at you. How happy you are when winter comes around. The way your face lights up when it snows. And he figures that if it brings you this much joy... maybe he can tolerate it.

He bites back the chill, grits his teeth at the icy breeze, ignores the shudder of the cold all the way down to his bones. He grins and bears it, because you love it. He thinks you don't notice.

You do.

You've known ever since you met him. His demeanour changes when the winter comes around. He gets a little tentative around the autumn time, as if he's preparing himself for the worst. And then the first snow falls, and he's different. Guarded. Careful. Reluctant. He puts a fake smile on his face and pretends, but you're nothing if not completely in tune with everything Bucky Barnes.

You never asked, never pried. Just stood steadily by his side, regardless of the walls he'd placed around himself. Around his heart.

He broke down one night, wrapped up in bed with you. A chill had blown through your old apartments rickety windows and unearthed old memories, ice running into his veins. He was sure his tears were frozen as they dripped down his face.

You understood him better, since that day.

You've tried to suggest moving in subtle and not so subtle ways, but he won't have it. He knows this is your home. He knows you like it here. He knows he can stay, if he works a little harder on himself.

So, he tries. Every single day, he tries. And that's all that matters.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, so... ground rules. Hit me, Buck. We do this on your terms."

He thinks for a moment before turning to face you.

"I want it to be just us. No one else."

"Done."

"And I don't wanna do the whole Christmas dinner thing. Feels like too much all at once."

You fight the urge to burst into tears at how easily he's communicating with you, how effortlessly he's enforcing his boundaries. You've come a long way.

"Done. Agreed, by the way. Fuck Christmas dinner. We'll do our own thing."

He grins at you, leaning in to kiss you slowly, tenderly, leisurely. Like you have all the time in the world.

"I want to get a tree. And lights. We don't have to do all the ornaments and stuff, but lights would be nice."

"I have an artificial tree in the back of the storage closet... is that okay?"

"Perfect. I don't want to stand on all the pine needles, anyway."

Laughing, you shift closer to him, tangling your legs together on the couch.

"And no gifts for me."

"But Buck-"

"Angel. I don't want anything. I have everything I need sat next to me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't wipe the smile off your face.

"This isn't fair, suddenly."

"It's plenty fair. You stress too much when you buy gifts, and this is going to be a stress free Christmas. Understood?"

He hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Understood," you whisper, swinging your knee over so you're straddling him. "Stress free."

Bucky tilts his head up to kiss you, gentle at first, then firmer when you roll your hips into his. He's a little distracted, admittedly. He got you to promise not to get him anything, but made sure you wouldn't ask the same. His mind runs a mile a minute, trying to wrack his brain on what kind of gift to get for the love of his life, the person that saved him and continues to save him every single day.

He comes up empty, but lets you kiss the thoughts away for a little while.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"My mom taught me this specific way to hang lights on your tree. Look, grab this end and I'll show you."

You're both still in your pyjamas, fire roaring, a jazzy Christmas melody playing from the radio. You decided you wouldn't put up your tree until the day before, to save Bucky from feeling overwhelmed. It's worked, so far - he looks plenty relaxed as he chuckles and rises from the armchair.

"You're tall, so hold this above your head so they don't tangle."

You work diligently, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Bucky's happy to watch you, fighting the smile off his face every time you sigh in exasperation. Eventually, you step back and admire your masterpiece, satisfied and content.

"It's beautiful, baby," he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

He presses a kiss into your neck, then another, then another. Your eyes slip closed, and you sink into his embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever thought possible. You spend the evening by the fire, lying on the rug, room illuminated by the lights on the tree.

It's perfect in every way.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Merry Christmas, angel."

"Merry Christmas, Buck."

His hand finds yours under the duvet, pulling you in close. You tangle yourself around him like lights on a tree, all encompassed by his warmth.

"What's the plan for today, Sergeant?"

He presses a kiss into your temple, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see you properly.

"I say we make some breakfast, spend all day on the couch, and then maybe make some dinner? I know we said we wouldn't do a traditional Christmas dinner, but it'd still be nice to take the time to cook something."

"That sounds perfect."

In the kitchen, you make pancakes with copious amounts of maple syrup, strawberries and pieces of banana strewn across your plates.

"My Mom made us pancakes every Christmas morning, you know."

"You've never told me that."

"I know. I kind of refrained from ever talking about anything festive, because I didn't want you to feel guilty."

"For making you miss out for so many years?"

"I haven't missed out, baby. I chose not to do Christmas because I love you. And that love takes precedent over everything else."

Bucky kisses you then, across the kitchen table, full and golden and so full of love you almost fall off your chair. He tastes like blueberry jam and syrup and coffee, and you wish you could bottle it up and stick a little under your tongue when you get homesick.

"What changed?"

"Hmm?"

"Why now? I would have been content to never do Christmas again, if it made you happy."

"Because I realised something, a couple of months ago. We were sat in the park, and you were laughing at that dog chasing the boomerang. The sun was making you glow, like some sort of angel, and I just knew. I can do anything with you by my side. I can't put my future on hold because of my past."

You're fighting back tears as you look at him, so happy and content. You never thought this was possible, when you first met him.

And here you are.

Celebrating Christmas, showing him your childhood traditions, making pancakes like your Mama used to. You're sat at the kitchen table as the snow falls outside and the warmth that Bucky's love brings is keeping the chill at bay.

It doesn't get better than this.

"I got you something," he murmurs almost sheepishly.

"Bucky-"

"Don't yell at me! I know it makes me a hypocrite, I know I said no gifts, I know."

You roll your eyes, but watch his every move as he gets up and leaves the room. You finish your breakfast and put both of your plates in the sink, turning on the tap so they can soak. When you turn around, Bucky has returned.

He's on one knee.

There's a ring between his fingers, glinting in the winter sun. You're both still in your pyjamas, warm and full, not quite having shaken off the heavy embrace of sleep just yet.

It's perfect.

"Maybe it's cliche to propose on Christmas day, but... I want to replace all of my old memories with new ones. Memories like this."

You walk over to him, kneeling down in front of him so your eyes are level.

"You've taught me what love is, baby. And I can never repay you for that. But I can certainly try. Every day, I can try."

There are tears dripping down both of your cheeks, Bucky's grin matching yours. The two of you are overwhelmed in the best way, unsure of how to process the gravity of what you're feeling.

"Marry me, baby. Let's do this forever."

You lunge forward and smash your lips to his, laughing into his mouth.

"Yes," you breathe when you pull away. "God, yes. A million times yes, Buck."

His arms wrap around your middle as he picks you up, twirling you in circles around the kitchen, both of you shrieking with joy.

Bucky slips the ring onto your finger when he puts you down, both of you tilting your heads to admire it.

"I love you," you murmur, leaning up to press your foreheads together. "The cold can't touch you now, baby. This love will warm us forever."

The cold can't touch him now. Love will warm him forever.

@lizzystuffsthings <3

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel fluff #marvel fic #marvel x reader #marvel x reader fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #marvel fanfic #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel smut #marvel x reader smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic

[ahegato]

Obey Me Brothers: Views on Romance

m.list

TW: slight swearing Characters: demon bros Writer: ahegato

LUCIFER:

he’s pretty old fashioned

pulling out chairs, opening doors, fancy dinner dates, giving roses and expensive jewelry

lots of “my love”, “darling” and “my dear”

he hasn’t experienced a lot of casual love, where you just stay at home and just watch a movie or something like that

it kinda hurts his pride, because it feels like he’s not doing enough to spoil his partner

however, with time he’ll get used to it and actually start to enjoy it

not big on PDA other than an arm around the waist or maybe holding hands

maybe also a kiss or two, just to flex on his brothers a bit xP

MAMMON:

he pretends that he’s too cool for romantic stuff

literally everyone can see through that lie

he’s not big on dates where people can see him

because he’d be too embarrassed about being vulnerable (like expressing his emotions) in front of others

if he’s alone with his partner though…

it’s like a switch has been flipped

constant kissing, hugging, cuddling, compliments and gifts

“I saw this and it made me think of you”

*literally just a pretty rock he found*

it’s so dumb yet so fucking cute at the same time

I can’t with the raven boy seriously

LEVIATHAN:

ew romance

such a cliché and gross and normie thing

…yet he can’t help but like it

he’s almost embarrassed about it

not really into the whole ‘going out on dates’-thing

because he has pretty bad social anxiety and there’s people freaking everywhere

closest he’ll get to an actual date is going out to calm places with little to no people

only exception to that rule is cosplaying together at one of those conventions

what he really likes is the whole high school / ‘young love’ kind of love

holding hands when walking somewhere

or “sneakily” holding hands under the dinner table (which is obvious to literally everyone except the couple)

playing video games together, watching movies or anime

posting lyrics from a song with a pic of them holding hands on devilgram

SATAN:

AWWWW YEAHH

romance nut over here

not exactly old fashioned like Lucifer

he’s just a hopeless romantic, but also pretty chill in a way?

like hanging out with his partner at home and just making it hella romantic (candles, rose petals, chocolate)

even if it’s something as simple as a movie night or a sleepover

constant compliments about looks, personality, everything really

SO. MANY. POEMS.

dinner dates, whether at home or at a restaurant

he wants to shower his partner with affection and is very fond of PDA

if they don’t like hugs/kisses in public, he’ll be kinda sad but will of course respect it

ASMODEUS:

casual love and old fashioned love, he likes a bit of both

dressing up and looking his absolute best for a romantic date is awesome

but staying in and watching horrible romcoms in your pajamas is also awesome

not really into the whole gentleman stuff

but he wants someone to spoil

and someone to spoil him

going on dates with matching outfits makes him absolutely melt

posts pics of his partner whenever he can

usually writes really lame stuff like “look how cute they are akfjbfhngkfkf”

BEELZEBUB:

romance is nice, but not something he necessarily needs or craves

dinner dates is obviously something he loves

but honestly he could go to freaking mcdonald’s and he would still think it’s the most romantic shit ever

he likes the cute but lowkey kind of love

kind of like middle school love

gives food or snacks as gifts

gets super happy if his partner does the same for him

if his partner gets cramps or something like that, he’ll go buy literally anything for them

likes to help people out, especially his partner

he always adds “i love you” when you guys say goodbye to do your own thing

BELPHEGOR:

thinks it’s very cliché and not very fond of it

he doesn’t wanna have to take his partner out on dates to different places very often just to keep them happy

or constantly give gifts

if he’s gonna give you something, it needs to have some deeper meaning to it or be something useful (like a pillow or blanket)

he prefers to stay at home and do something or nothing with his partner

something away from other people

like sleeping together (and I mean actually sleeping), watching a movie, maybe have a picnic or go for a walk

prolly likes taking pics of you while you’re sleeping or when you guys are cuddling

good luck getting away once he’s snuggled up to you. you ain’t going anywhere

✦ [ 08/05/2023 ] ✦ ahegato ✦

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #headcanons #obey me headcanons #x reader #mc #obey me mc

[edenfenixblogs]

Some Excerpts As I Read

Reader Note: I have read The Color Purple and would never dismiss the importance of Alice Walker’s work. However, let’s not pretend that she’s too sacred to critique and treat like any other artist who does something racist. Her work to combat anti-black racism and highlight Black American struggles do not permit or excuse when she engages in other forms of bigotry.

I have never seen someone make a public stink about the extraordinarily racist poem, of which the section quoted above is only the tip of that particular racist iceberg.

In fact, I did not even know that Walker had written this horrible “poem” (if you can call an antisemitic diatribe with weird spacing a poem) —despite being very active in leftist spaces for my whole adult AND adolescent life and being an avid reader or both novels and poetry until 2023.

It was brought to my attention when she caught flak for being a TERF, as an incidental aside to prove that she was actually bigoted in several ways. A trait she ALSO shares with JK Rowling.

Look at these headlines. This is what comes up when I search “Alice walker transphobia.” They clearly label her as a TERF. But they do not make the same claim about her identity as BEING an antisemite. It is removed from her. Antisemitism is clearly not the focus here, which is fine. It is older news. These stories are reporting on her more recent bigotry. Cool.

These are the first results that come up when I search “alice walker antisemitism.”

The first result is from The Times of Israel, which makes sense, because that’s a place where a lot of Jews live and a lot of Jews will be upset by the things she wrote. But it also doesn’t make sense, because Walker is American. Why is the FIRST result about her antisemitism from an international newspaper that happens to have a large Jewish readership?

Why is the NYT headline about how Walker feels about her own bigotry, instead of how her Jewish readers feel?

The New York Magazine Article looked interesting so I clicked it. It was interesting. You should read it. It is an Op-Ed written by a Black, Jewish woman named Nylah Burton. Kudos to her. It was important. And non-Jews need to read it. It was written in 2018.

The Atlantic is next and primarily takes on the work of critiquing a different article in the New Yorker which also minimized the importance and harmful impact of antisemitism.

And then things get interesting. Still, on the first page of results, is this juxtaposition.

Among the many striking things here is the fact that the Jerusalem Post is writing from 2023. Al Jazeera is writing from 2019.

If you’ve read any of the above links or text you will note that yes, Alice Walker’s “offense” is indeed antisemitism. It’s not really debatable. She’s done many, many horrifically antisemitic things.

And yet, Al Jazeera jumps in, unprompted, to defend a known antisemite? Why?????? Oh, because she supports Palestine.

Well…perhaps…just maybe…supporters of Palestine shouldn’t want to leap to the defense of antisemites who spout blatant misinformation about the I/P conflict, demonize the Jews they know personally, and trade in antisemitic conspiracy theories.

Unless of course…they don’t care that they are pushing pro-Palestine Jews out of leftist spaces in the first place.

When did it become acceptable for leftists to excuse someone’s bigotry as long as the bigot agrees with you on other stuff?

#Jews Don’t Count #David Baddiel #the Jewish experience #jumblr #antiracism #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #Alice Walker #anti racism #I dare a goy to reblog this challenge

[captainofthedauntless]

hii i really like your writing!! <33 i was wondering if we could get something for y/n asking their turt to be their valentine? i was gonna ask for bayverse but i saw your rules said you were most confident with writing 2003 so whatever you like best! take as much time as you need!! <333333 p.s. heres a cookie *cookie*

Hi lovely! We're all cool pretending it's still Valentine's, right? Awesome.

I chose Bayverse for now, but plan to do the 03 guys soon! I took the friends-to-lovers route here, I hope you enjoy.

(As always, set post-movies!)

So you want to ask a turtle out.

Don's an observant guy, so it's not that he's completely shocked that you like him. But to have that suspicion, quiet and dangerous in the back of his mind, confirmed? To have you ask him directly? He's mystified. It's one thing to think he might have a chance, but it's another thing altogether to have a chance handed to him on a silver platter.

So when you catch him in between tasks and offer him a box of chocolates- a brand April had brought down one time and he had mentioned really enjoying and you had somehow remembered, because apparently he wasn't the only observant one here- and smile at him, warm and fond and visibly nervous, he's left blinking at you. Then, apparently taking his pause as a lack of understanding- or just trying to fill the silence, he couldn't be sure- you speak.

"Would you be my Valentine?"

And he's gone. Don.EXE has stopped working, would you like to restart? It's like static in his mind for a beat, two, and suddenly he's nodding quickly and a smile is growing on his face and "Yeah! Yeah, of course- yes. I'd love to."

He shares the chocolate with you, and on his, like, seventh piece, he finally works up the nerve to ask you if you meant "Valentine" like romantically, and your laugh is good-natured enough that he can't even bother to be embarrassed.

"Like romantically, yeah."

"Cool, cool. I thought so, but it's not actually an exclusively romantic term and- interestingly enough there seems to be a rise in platonic usage, I was just reading an article about it the other day-"

He goes on for several minutes. You listen patiently, and right as he's about to apologize for the tangent you ask him a question and he's grinning like an idiot and launching into an answer and it's officially the best Valentine's Day ever, and he's already plotting ways to get you back for it.

Leonardo is, honestly, a little irritated. Not because you asked! No, no, he's elated- ecstatic- about that. He's so happy he doesn't know what do with it all.

But you beat him to it, and that's... it's a little frustrating. The turtle was slow, and he's not the biggest fan of the irony.

He had a plan. He had a whole plan- he finally worked up the nerve to tell you he cared for you (he wasn't willing to say the L word just yet, but he did love you, and it was getting to be too much to ignore), he'd convinced April to get him your favorite chocolate (he'd gathered intel from your "secret" stash at your place, where you kept the good stuff out of Mikey's hands. He had been very stealthy and was more than a little proud of himself and a lot in debt to April- he'd be watching her favorite awful TV shows with her for months), and he'd written you a short poem (and edited, and scrapped, and rewritten said poem) and tied it to the heart-shaped box of sweet goodness with a blue ribbon.

He'd proceeded to convince himself that was a little too much, and swapped the blue for silver.

Leo had rehearsed exactly what he'd say. He knew when he'd do it, where his brothers would be (well out of the way, with a clear unspoken threat of extra patrol and training if they went off-plan), and what he would eat for dinner beforehand so that he had the absolute smallest possible chance of his nerves hijacking his stomach.

And then you show up with forget-me-nots and gardenias tied up in blue ribbon, which. First of all, that explains why you wanted to borrow his book on flower language a few weeks back. Secondly, the message of secret love, true love, respect, and shared history, all tied up in his color? It nearly kills him.

"Leo, would you do me the honor of being my Valentine?"

"Stay right here," He says firmly, dashing off to his bed before he could process your owlish blink. He pulls the chocolate box out from underneath it and rushes back, smiling sheepishly at the way your concern immediately melts into fond amusement. "Only if you'll be mine."

"Deal," You laugh, trading him the fragrant bouquet for the heart-shaped box, and he busies himself with inspecting and smelling the flowers while you read his poem.

At the end of the day, he earns himself a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a Valentine, so maybe you asking wasn't really the issue he thought it was.

Mikey beats you to asking.

He asks you a week ahead of time, and it's a real splashy affair- he goes all out, pestering April into helping him get all kinds of candy and a big, orange stuffed bear with a heart in its little paws and a pink basket big enough for all of it. He begs his brothers and father to give him the living room of the lair for the evening, and even agrees to do Raph's chores for a week and a half in exchange. He sets the basket up on the couch, tries out about three hundred different combinations of the million lights littering the lair to create the perfect "romantic and intimate but not too suggestive but not too dark but not too bright" ambience, and absolutely agonizes over the playlist of easy, romantic R&B.

He's the one to greet you at the metaphorical front door of the lair and guide you into the living room, and when you look at him quizzically- and hopefully, he notes with delight- he takes your hands and a deep breath.

"Angel, would you be my Valentine?"

"Dammit, Mikey..." You grumble, and if it weren't for the grin you were biting back and the way you were squeezing his hands like you never wanted to let go, he'd be pretty damn scared right about now. "I was gonna ask you. I had a whole plan."

"You can still ask me later, gorgeous," He says with a big grin of his own. "I'll totally act surprised."

"How kind."

"That's me. Now, uh, you're kinda leavin' me hangin', here."

"I'll happily be your Valentine, Mikey."

Raph was not going to ask. He did not see this coming, did not see your feelings, did not think twice about his plan to spend Valentine's Day like he always did: with extra-buttery popcorn and rom-coms.

His plan was to basically not think about how you'd probably be spending it with someone, happy and laughing and smiling.

No, you hadn't mentioned having plans. No, you'd never mentioned a significant other- or even a love interest. No, neither of those things stopped him from assuming.

So when you waltzed into his space with a knock at the entryway and a big ol' grin, he was preparing himself for a whole ooey-gooey story about whoever had swept you off your feet. Preparing himself to act like that didn't eat him alive.

And apparently the lucky bastard had gotten you flowers, which was not helping.

"Hey, Big Red," You say fondly, leaning against the wall and fiddling with a flower stem and looking like a daydream, and his heart did something funny in his chest. "You busy?"

"Why, wanna gloat about your night?" He asks, fighting to keep his tone in the realm of playful and away from anything bitter and yearning.

"Was hoping to ask you a question, actually."

He hums a question of his own, now thoroughly confused.

"Would you be my Valentine?" You ask, holding the flowers out sweetly.

He, in a brilliant moment of zero filter, says "What the fuck?" and your smile drops the smallest bit and he very seriously considers tossing himself off of the Chrysler building.

You open your mouth, and he launches himself out of bed before you can get a word out, gently pulling the flowers out of your hand.

"Why?" He asks gruffly, very clearly avoiding your gaze as he studies a delicate petal.

"...Because I... have feelings for you?" You half admit, half ask, sounding as confused as he felt and staring at him with wide eyes. "If I've read this wrong-"

"No." He forces- forces- himself to look you in the eye, which lasts all of about a second before he's counting it as a win and looking back at the flowers. "But I'm not sure it's somethin' you should read."

"I'm not sure I asked that."

And he can't argue with that, because he knows the tone in your voice, knows he'd be better off arguing with the wall. But he can question it, because.... well, for a lot of reasons.

He should ask a lot of questions. Like "why?" and "did you hit your head?" and "is this a prank or somethin'?", but all that comes out is "Me?"

It makes you smile for some reason, and you step forward a little and duck into his line of sight and meet his eyes with about three and a half times the sincerity he could handle. "Who else?" You ask simply.

He has about a dozen retorts to that, but with you holding his gaze and heart hostage, he just nods. "Okay."

#*writing #*headcanons #donatello x reader #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #michelangelo x reader #donatello #leonardo #michelangelo #raphael #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt x reader #imagines #headcanons #bayverse x reader #2014 #x reader

[mrs-snape5984]

„In the dark of night, those faces, they haunt me…“

„I wish you were so close to me. Yes, I wish your were by my side…“ („By my side“ by INXS)

I’ve always had a special soft spot for Severus in his teenage years. This way too skinny, raven-haired boy with his adorably crooked nose and those beautiful - and yet so sad - obsidian eyes never failed to trigger some kind of an overprotective goddess of revenge in my heart.

There are nights, in which I‘m drowning in my thoughts about Sevy…writing my stories for him. My OC Jules (totally self-inserted…I admit it!) allows him to show his vulnerabilities in her presence. She’s protecting and defending him….in every aspect of his life.

This man deserves some love, respect and comfort…and that’s, what we all in our beloved Snapedom are granting him.

Some time ago, I’ve read a poem by Amanda Lovelace, which reminded me of the consolation and comfort, I’d wanted to give to Severus. I want to share it with you (please ignore my scribble…that’s exactly the reason, why I’m commissioning art from all the incredibly talented artists of Snapedom 😅):

The artwork on top of this post was a gift from my friend @exlibrisseverus and I love everything about it! The whole mood in your beautiful drawing makes my heart aching for Severus…makes me wanting to fix the whole goddamn world for him.

@exlibrisseverus, you’re a gem of a human soul and I’m beyond grateful that I was allowed to get to know you better. Your resilience and your strength are - just like Severus’s - extremely inspiring to me, my friend and I hope, that you will stay in touch with me! 🖤🥹 Thank you so much for each kind word, for each recommendation and of course for this stunning piece of art!

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

#Severus x Julia #Sevy x Jules #Severus x oc #a wonderful gift from a lovely friend #i have a soft spot for young sevy #i love severus #snapedom is our safe space #severus snape #i love snape #snape #pro snape #snape love #pro severus snape #i would protect him with my life #i will never stop loving him #snape content #i would fight for him #i would die for him #i would kill for him #i will defend him with my life #snart #severus snape fan art #severus fanart #snape art #severus snape art

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

OK, I had a fleeting thought about the TTPD announcement then lost it and now I think I remember what it was, so bear with me.

Disclaimer: I don’t actually think this is what the intro is alluding to! I think the poem is a direct reference to the actual songs on the TTPD! Or at least its themes. But, it’s stuck in my head and you all know I love to write about her albums so here we are.

The introduction to the album has us all gagged, right? The opening salvo of what is going to be a gut punch of a tale:

For some reason last night, my brain likened these lines to the relationship’s corresponding albums.

And so I enter into evidence

The thesis statement: She’s looking back on her own words, a reflection of her lived experience, what she shared and what she didn’t. She is submitting the case files for consideration:

My tarnished coat of arms

Reputation: an album about the how the world turned against her, but she found a love that felt safe and warm amidst the storm. Her very identity was put into question and she had to relearn what mattered to her. Yet, as we’ve since gleaned, that growth also seemed to be part of what ultimately doomed the relationship, and caused immeasurable heartbreak in the process.

My muses, acquired like bruises

Lover: His presence and their love inspired some of her most vulnerable love songs, where she put her own anxieties, fears and hopes in the spotlight, opening herself up to a degree that reached new heights in her music and her life. But those same vulnerabilities also left her open to greater hurt, especially if those same things may have been used as a flashpoint for conflict.

*To be clear: I think there actual muses she’s referring to on the album are multiple; I kind of get the feeling that it’s going to be about her body of work, that it may not just be about an individual or individuals but a whole host of “muses” that have inspired and hurt her, but… That doesn’t fit into this post lol.

My talismans and charms

Folklore and Evermore: Using the “magic” of fiction or esoteric stories to process feelings she may have been experiencing, or to deal with difficult situations she felt like she couldn’t share, did not want to, or maybe did not realize were as severe as she now knows they were in hindsight.

(Talismans and charms both being objects believed to hold magical properties to protect against evil/bring good fortune)

In other words, using the two pandemic albums to stave off difficult choices/realizations, escaping into this alternate reality (the cabin in the woods, as it were). Putting a magic spell over them for a time to “protect” them from the world turning upside down, perhaps by the way she pulled him into her world for a little bit too. But also as it turns out protecting herself from what might have been happening in front of her in the fallout. Using her music as a lifeline for herself, but also in some ways for them. Because the music is always going to be the way forward.

The tick, tick, tick of love bombs

Midnights: A survey of difficult sleepless nights throughout her life, and the aftermath of the things that kept her up at night. As we’ve all talked about, it feels pretty likely that the reason these ideas felt so salient to her was because she was processing similar feelings about her current relationship. It may have felt like there was a metaphorical clock ticking about the fate of the relationship, counting down to a now-inevitable explosion.

(Also interesting: all the clock imagery in the Midnights artwork and promotion.)

The wordplay of the bomb-ticking with love-bombing is both genius and distressing and may be its own post once TTPD is released because the implications are… uncomfortable to say the least. It’s very, “now you’re running down the hallway, you know what they all say, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” There’s the clock running to the end of the relationship, but it could also be a reference to coming to expect a profuse display of love after every conflict or instance of hurt, implying a cycle of dysfunction, whether in the past or present.

My veins of pitch black ink

The Tortured Poets Department: It’s not just an allusion to being metaphorically dead, blood turning dark once the heart has stopped beating (like the end of the relationship); her heart has gone cold. It’s more pointedly a reference to the words spilling out of her, the way writing is a lifeline. (Which she has said herself many times, but specifically about the promotion of TTPD on tour.) The songs on this album are swirling through her veins, and this bloodletting is a lifesaving act for her.

All’s fair in love and poetry

It’s the summation of the files she’s produced as evidence. She’s laying bare the good, the bad and the ugly throughout these chapters, and with the submission of TTPD, the final one, the jury can reach its final conclusion. (As will the relationship.)

The Chairman of the Tortured Poets Department has defended her thesis in six parts; it’s up to the board to do the rest.

(Can you tell I’m obsessed with this poem and I can’t wait to see how it ties in to the actual album?)

#the tortured poets department #taylor swift #I need this album now #scratching every inch of my lit analysis loving brain #Writing letters addressed to the fire

[xoxotria]

after you | h.js

theme: angst, post break-up

“where did all those feelings go? people spend their whole lives looking for love. poems and songs and entire novels are written about it. but how can you trust something that can end as suddenly as it begins?” - the sun is also a star by nicola yoon

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

it had been roughly a few months since your break up with joshua. it was a messy breakup with no real closure. you had a nasty fight that resulted in him breaking up with you and leaving your apartment angrily leaving you dazed at how the situation escalated that fast.

“yes, jun. i know.”

you had been on the phone with jun as you double checked if the last items of joshua’s stuff that he left in your apartment was in the box. he had reached out a day ago asking if he could pick up the stuff he had left behind—all of it were things he could easily replace; his macbook charger, a few formal shirts, pajamas, house slippers, a coffee mug, a pair of work shoes, and a pair of fluffy slippers.

“it’s just weird how he reached out just to get stuff out of the blue when he’s been no contact with you since you broke up.” jun comments as you shrug.

“maybe his charger broke? i don’t fucking know jun! i’m as confused as you are honestly.” you admit.

it was confusing. joshua was confusing. the entire situation was.

“all i know is that he wants his stuff back and i’d gladly give it all back just so i don’t have to be reminded of his non-existent presence anymore in the apartment.” you grab your phone as joshua’s name pops up on your phone.

love sent you a message. you cursed at the stupid contact name you had yet to change.

“he’s there already?” jun asks as you nod typing furiously on your phone.

“yeah. i gotta go jun. i’ll call you later okay?” you exit your messages to see jun nodding on screen.

“you better. talk to you later—hey, it’s gonna be alright. you got this.” jun reassures you as you smile at him.

jun was your best-friend. he knows just from your breathing if something was wrong with you. he was there after you sobbed into your phone after it sunk in that you and joshua had broken up. he picked up the pieces of a heart he didn’t even break. you were eternally grateful for him.

“thanks jun. call you later. bye!” you smile as you waved him goodbye.

“okay, bye!”

your nerves disappeared with jun’s words just as your doorbell rang, getting up from the seat by the kitchen counter you made your way over to the door. you didn’t bother asking who it was opening the door fully to come face to face with the man you once loved—still love.

“hi.” he greets a small smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes the way it used to.

a rush of emotions surfaced as you caught sight of him for the first time since you broke up. he looked tired—the bags under his eyes telling you he’d been having trouble sleeping, his hair was messy a rough contrast to the well maintained hairstyle he used to have, and the timid expression on his face reminded you of the time you first went on a date.

you missed him. you missed your joshua. setting your thoughts aside you move over to make way for him to enter.

“hi, come in. your stuff is on the kitchen counter.” you greet him back with a small smile of your own as he passes by you to enter the kitchen while you close the door behind him following quietly behind him as he looks around your apartment.

it was quiet between you two as you let him glance around whilst you situated yourself behind the kitchen counter where his stuff was. you fiddled with your nails as he glanced over at you.

“all your stuff is here but you can double check if i missed anything.” you gently push the box towards him as he sits on the stool opening the box.

you watched as he pulled out the random trinkets he gifted you for your apartment, his shirts, and charger as you caught sight of the silver of the matching rings you had hanging on a chain on his neck.

your breath hitched as you caught sight of it. a million questions ringing in your head as he caught your gaze on the ring.

“everything seems to be here.” he mumbles as he watched you reach out to touch the ring.

he felt her fingers ghost over the skin on his chest missing her touch which she longed so long to feel again but as he did she pulled away clutching her hand to her chest.

“sorry, i didn’t realize what i was doing.” she stutters as she avoided eye contact with him.

she wanted to smack her head against the counter for being so stupid. just as she was cursing herself in her head she heard joshua say something that causes her to heart to stop.

“i missed you.”

he said it so quietly, she almost didn’t hear it. he missed her? what the fuck was happening?

she wanted to be happy but the unresolved tensions of the night of their break up had bubbled back up to the surface and without realizing the words that slipped out of her mouth—she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

“4 months joshua. 4 months of no contact after storming out and breaking up with me! now you missed me? do you know how unfair it was? to not even have a chance to reason with you for breaking up with me just like that? you didn’t even give me the reason why! you stormed out before i even got the chance to.” she could feel the anger she held in her heart come pouring out.

she wanted him to know what it felt. how hurt and betrayed she was after he cut her off for months.

“i deserved more than that. yet why is it that despite everything you were what i was looking for when i came home, when i wake up in the morning, when i cross the streets, when i shop for groceries, when i see a black sedan drive past me when i’m outside? i see you even in the most mundane things i do, josh.” her eyes glistened with tears as he stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“i loved you josh. fuck—i still do! i love you. i love you. i’ll write it in the skies. in the seas. on paper. it has always been you joshua. from the moment we first met. it’s the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing but it’s true. i’m so in love with you still.”

he stared at her watching as she broke down infront of him. his chest aching from being so stupid for leaving her like that. he needed to make things right because when he was with her everything felt right.

“please say something,” she whispers.

his throat tightens as she drops her face into her hands sobs leaving her body.

she heard his footsteps before she realized that his arms wrapped around her torso.

“i’m so sorry darling.” he whispers into the crook of her neck, his grip around her torso tightening. “i was being irrational and my nerves were shot from fighting. i hurt you when i promised you i wouldn’t.”

she could feel the warmth of his hands through the shirt she wore, encircling her arms around his pressing herself against him. despite the resentment she had built up from their breakup, she couldn’t help but love him still.

“i’ll give you the world. the moon. the stars. the entire fucking universe. anything you ask for, it’s yours. i’m yours because i love you. i still want to live in the mountains with you as you paint on our balcony, to wake up every day with you beside me, to feel you against my body as i whisper and make you feel how much i love you. ”

she couldn’t take it anymore, removing herself from his embrace and cupping his cheeks. she looks up at him a smile on her face. his favorite sight.

“you’re such an idiot but i love you.” she chokes out through her tears.

he kisses her forehead as her eyes flutter shut.

“i love you.” he whispers repeatedly as his lips brushes over hers, like a prayer.

his hands wrap around the back of her neck as he brings her forward. his lips meet hers in a soft kiss. he broke away, their breaths heavy. joshua’s lips pepper kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, and her neck before pulling away to gaze into her eyes.

they knew what each other was feeling without having to put it into words. their eyes communicated a million words without having to.

“you have me—all of me. i’m yours in this life and all our lives after that. i am never letting you go again.”

she looked at joshua lovingly. when her lips meets his again, it was as if every piece of longing disappears and every uncertainty evaporates. he knew then there would never be an after you because no matter what he would always comeback to you.

#joshua hong #hong jisoo #seventeen joshua #seventeen scenarios #angst #seventeenfanfic #joshua hong scenarios #joshua hong x reader #seventeen #seventeen fanfiction

[walrus150915]

Goldenheart headcanons for when they have only started dating and were awkward as hell

(because I am a trans bi teenager who wants to experience mlm love yet can't because I'm afraid to date boys due to my dysphoria)

I noticed you people like when I make long posts like these and I love them too so I think I can share some hcs of mine about this stage of their relationship bc I have a lot honestly :]

- they started dating when they were around 16yo

- none of them actually had feelings for each other before puberty hit and they were like "damn my bestie is kinda fine- WHAT"

- Bal fell first. Ambrosius fell and broke the floor under him bc boyyyy did he fall HARD

- Bal navigated his feelings like "Ugh okay I guess that's what happens when you're friends with a handsome guy everyone has a crush on. That'll pass. That's part of puberty. Stay calm" meanwhile Ambrosius screamed in his pillow and freaked out and cried only to pretend nothing bothered him. It was hard to pretend when you literally study at the same academia/school/whatever and see each other every day bc you're best friends

- during the mutual pining era the PE lessons were DIFFICULT. Especially when they were put up against each other

- they look like friends who had no problem hugging/brushing each other's hair/being close physically in general yet when the feelings appeared, the things which used to be very easy turned torturous

- Ballister was the one to ask if Ambrosius saw that their friendship changed. Ambrosius couldn't hold it in anymore and mumbled through his confession so fast and awkward Ballister has only understood phrases like "I really like you" and "romantically I mean" and "you're very cool and that'd be sick if we became boyfriends"

- Bal turned his face to the side and muttered something like "yeah I think it would"

- and so they became boyfriends!!

- has something changed in the way they behaved around each other? Yeah but also not really. They were still besties and the physical contact became A LITTLE easier now that the sorta relationship they had was clear between them, but they just couldn't help but blush while touching each other

- their first kiss was a mess dude😭😭

- Ambrosius wanted it to go as smoothly as possible so he watched romantic movies and practiced kissing with his hand (embarrassing? Yeah I now) but when it was time to finally show off his skills he panicked and pressed his lips to Ballister's for a few seconds then his nose almost bled out bc of the nerves (not me projecting on Ambrosius but that's literally what happened to me when I had my first kiss)

- Ballister seemed calm about this whole thing but it doesn't mean he was. When they had their first ever date he brushed his teeth extra clear just to make sure he'd smell good during their first kiss. Bro was THRILLED

- basically Ambrosius was overthinking this and Ballister was... Also overthinking I'M SORRY THESE TWO ARE HORRIBLE

Now the headcanons are for the time when they've been dating for like more than a few months and have kinda got used to each other in this new ~romantic~ way

- Bal's way of flirting wasn't really obvious since he doesn't look like a guy who can come up with romantic compliments on the spot, however I think he touched Ambrosius if he wanted to express his feelings for him. Stroke his bleach-damaged hair, make their pinkies intertwine, put his head on his shoulder and nuzzle into him - this or he'd infodump new history/physics/chemistry facts he learnt

Bal: Okay, did you know that [some really complicated science stuff I cannot describe in words because I'm a literature major]

Ambrosius, heart-eyed, no clue what he's talking about: Wow that's really interesting anyways do you want me to change my surname to Boldheart-

- Ambrosius looks like a total theatre kid so I think he often flirted with Bal by quoting some love poems they had in their curriculum. Of course he quoted their analogue of Romeo's monologue under Juliet's balcony why do you think he wouldn't

- Having said that, whenever he quoted something which referred to a woman, he changed pronouns and general words bc he's attentive like that. Sometimes it got absurd tho. "Manservant of the moon" instead of "maid" like dude😭😭😭😭

- Ballister tried his best not to laugh but also not to pass out bcuz of the amount of praise his boyfriend gave him which was actually a lot. My man is as much of a mess as Ambrosius is let's not forget that

- one day Ambrosius quoted something which was not from the curriculum but instead from Bal's favorite book. I think Bal liked adventure books about knights which sometimes included romance and I imagine the dialogue going:

Ambrosius: "And even if I had to turn against the whole world to follow you-

Them together: "-I would do it with no hesitation-"

Ambrosius: "Because you are my world, Sir Redsword"

Them: *staring at each other*

Bal, all blushing: ...that's not from the books our teacher told us to read

Ambrosius, also blushing madly: Yeah but I figured I like some variety

- That's when Bal knew this guy was his forever soulmate

- Bal used to be taller than Ambrosius for a long time of their early years but then Ambrosius got late height boost or idk how it's called. Basically dude went from 5'5 to 6'1 overnight and I know Ballister was PISSED

- these two totally kissed in the janitor's closet when they needed some privacy I'm telling you (not even in a "steamy" way although I think some sort of tension existed - cmon they were late teens bro do you really think puberty is nice to teenagers???).

- why would you get a private space where you can explore this side of your relationship safely when you can have a literal closet with racks and mops and buckets, am I right

- Ambrosius tried writing poems for Ballister they SUCKED

- Ballister still saved each and one of them. One day, he'll sort through his things to move to his own place after the wall comes down and find these yellow checkered sheets of paper, full of bad rhymes and silly words. He'd bring all of them to his (and Ambrosius's) new apartment

Okay now the last hcs which I honestly have no idea how to call but umm ✨what people around them thought about their blooming romance✨

- Queen Valerin understood something was up on the spot. Like, for a straight woman, her gaydar worked flawlessly😭 it was enough for her to see them hide the fact that they held hands to go "I know what you are". She was pretty supportive although she did ask Bal on their one-to-one meeting to "use protection" like all moms do🖐

- The Director also knew something was up but her reaction was more like "Sir Ambrosius will grow out of it". As you know, he never did LMAOO

- Todd was hilariously oblivious despite teasing Ambrosius like "HAHA LOLLLL GOLDENLOIN WHY R U ALWAYS WITH THIS COMMONER GUY ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH HIM OR SOMETHING". He did it in a cishetero "haha gotta mock my homie for being gay" yet DID NOT REALIZE his homie was, indeed, gay

- some cadets could pick up on it, some didn't

- anyway I think the general public knew nothing about it bc if they did that'd be a scandal worse than Henry the 8th's when he created a new religion bc his loins were on fire thanks to Anne Boleyn

ALSO GET THIS LITTLE PIECE (which I don't really like bc of the coloring choices) OF THEM :D

I swear Ambrosius isn't yellow irl😭😭 I'm myself asian I now better than that

That's about it I guess! Lemme know what you think (if you wanna use/adopt these hcs, feel free to do whatever you want with them! Just tag me so I could see it wjsjjajaj!!!!) ;3

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #nimona fanart #headcanons #nimona headcanons #man why's this so long #sorry guys #i hope my words make sense sorry if they dont #theyre tiny😭

[avatar-anna]

The Professor

summary: you and harry are perfect strangers

words: 2.5k

tw: none

quick note: this takes place in the current world, but doesn't exactly follow the exact sequence of events as they happened!

PART I, PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V Series Masterlist

March 2021

Nothing in your life was particularly meritorious, at least to the general public. All your life, you'd been praised for being exceptional, but you never asked to be. You just wanted to live your life in peace, doing what you loved and helping those in unique ways. One day one of your students just happened to get it on film. 

You weren’t from England, but you moved there about three years ago to teach forensic, criminal, and behavioral psychology at the University of Cambridge. When students walked into your classroom on the first day of school, they would give you “the look.” It was one you received all your life, the one that said people thought you couldn’t be quite so young and be where you were—collegiate level lecture halls, research labs, touring apartments by yourself, buying wine at a grocery store—and yet, there you stood. You never let the look get to you, though. For you, learning was the top priority, whether students or colleagues underestimated you wasn’t your problem, it was theirs.

As time went on, though, you managed to establish something of a reputation at Cambridge. You were known among students as a favorite professor, one that was hard but fair, and someone who was able to explain the material to any student, no matter what their academic history or learning disabilities might have suggested. You became known for your well-taught and interactive classes, office hours that were worth attending, and a last few minutes of class where you let students ask you whatever they wanted—if they stumped you, you gave them extra credit, if they didn’t, no extra credit. The game was supposed to be a way for students to get to know you better, and to lighten up your classes a bit. You loved to learn, and you wanted your students to enjoy it as much as you did. 

It became a popular facet of your classes, students raising their hands and asking questions about theoretical probabilities, quantum physics, what constellations you would find on the opposite hemisphere, or if you could quote a specific line from one of Shakespeare’s poems. You were hardly ever beat, but that just made your students try harder.

Soon enough, students started to film you and post the videos online. You didn’t know what app or what social media platform that was being used, seeing as you had no social media accounts of your own, but you were assured that no one was making fun of you. In fact, it was quite the opposite. People from all over started submitting questions to see if they could best you. 

Losing this game was a very rare occurrence, so much so that you hung up a bell in your lecture hall and let the student who posed a question ring it when you couldn’t come up with an answer. If your class got to ring the bell ten times, you’d take the class out for drinks. The bell was hardly ever rung, though, until one day, you picked on a girl who asked one simple question.

“Can you name a Harry Styles song?”

You’d blinked, not at all expecting that question. Popular culture questions came up every now and then, but students mostly asked you about stuff relating to math or history or science, wanting to know just how deep your well of knowledge was. But this question left your mind utterly blank, something that was almost as rare as not getting a question right. 

“I—I don’t know who that is,” you said, unable to come up with an answer. 

The whole classroom cheered, the first win of the term, and you sent everyone home or off to their next class with the promise to the young woman that you would make sure to give her extra credit on her next assignment.

According to your students, you became known online as the professor who, "knew everything except who the most popular man on the planet was." That didn't really bother you, though, and when you were asked about it, you merely said, "I don't know everything, actually. Sometimes I wish I did, but I don't." That was the end of that, and celebrities were soon left behind.

Then the pandemic happened.

You still had to teach, but even you noticed that online learning in the middle of a global pandemic was less than fun. You tried your best to keep your students engaged, still agreeing to your question and answer game, and ringing a bell for them whenever they got it right.

That’s when students convinced you to get social media. Before lockdown, all you had was your school email address and an old Facebook profile you rarely used, but one of your students claimed that a portion of the Internet liked learning from you, and that after your answer about Harry Styles, your “fanbase,” the student called it, only doubled. 

You told your students you’d think about it, but ultimately decided that you weren’t going to. While you appreciated all the benefits of technology, it wasn't really for you. But one day you came across an article about how students of all ages felt like they weren’t actually learning while in quarantine, and you couldn’t shake the feeling you should do something about it, that you could do something about it. So you looked up all the proper equipment, ordered it online, and suddenly you were posting videos of yourself teaching multiple subjects on YouTube, enlisting the help of one of your former students to do the editing and the posting, not really sure what would be interesting or “cool” for viewers. 

A following started to build as lockdown continued, and you came to love uploading your videos, if only because it made you happy that you could help more people learn. You were someone who constantly needed an activity to occupy your mind, and filming was a perfect addition to your stay-at-home schedule. You'd mastered entry-level coding, complex cross-stitching, and played multiple games of chess against your cat (who was an excellent opponent). Filming online educational videos seemed like the perfect pastime.

It wasn’t really about popularity or views or notoriety for you, you just wanted to teach, but apparently you had gained almost two million subscribers since your first video. When the world started to open up again and you were allowed back into the classroom with a mask mandate and a hybrid schedule of online and in-person classes, you thought about ending the videos, but the student who edited them for you—who you began to pay once you realized it was something of a full time job for them—convinced you to keep filming. “You could even record some of your lectures and post those,” they’d said, so you kept uploading. 

Life had somewhat returned to normal, though now on top of teaching in your lecture hall, you were also still teaching online and filming videos about math and science and any other subjects you could think of. It was a lot of work. At least, it was a lot of work for the average person. But you drank coffee like it was water and had a minor case of insomnia, so there were more than enough hours in the day to get everything done.

----------------------------------------------------------

Free time wasn’t something you knew very well, but you always made time for rare first editions. 

You had an acquaintance at an old bookstore close to Cambridge’s campus, and they emailed you saying they were being lent Shakespeare’s first folio and wanted to know if you wanted to see it before they had to put it in the glass display case for the other bookstore guests. You immediately jumped on the chance, buzzing with excitement during all of your lectures on the day you were meant to go.

You got to the bookstore early, so early that the shopkeeper told you it hadn’t arrived yet. So you browsed the shelves until you were called to the back, trying to find something that caught your eye. And you did, it just wasn’t on a bookshelf.

“‘The dawn is my Assyria; the sunset and moonrise my paphos, and unimaginable realms of faerie; broad noon shall be my England of the senses and the understanding; the night shall be my Germany of mystic philosophy and dreams.’”

The man holding the book of poems looked to where you were standing, a perplexed look on his face. “That’s—”

“Nature by Emerson. Chapter three,” you supplied, unable to help yourself. You never tried to come off as arrogant for knowing as much as you did. Knowledge just excited you so much that sometimes it came pouring out of you.

Sometimes people didn’t like being shown up. As a child, your teachers and classmates would find your intelligence and penchant for reciting material that should’ve been much too advanced for your age annoying. But this man didn’t seem to mind, though it was hard to tell with the mask covering half his face.

He flipped through the book before landing on a random page. “Chapter seven, page seventy-three. The line that comes after, ‘to pure spirit, it is fluid, it is volatile, it is obedient.’”

Grinning, you spoke without missing a beat. “‘Every spirit builds itself a house, and beyond its house, a world, and beyond its world a heaven. Know then, that the world exists for you, build, therefore, your own world.’”

His eyes crinkled, and you took that to mean he was smiling, which made something unfamiliar flutter in your stomach. He had nice eyes, you thought. A pretty shade of jade green framed by thick eyelashes.

“Impressive,” he said. “Do you have a photographic memory or something?”

“Or something,” you replied. You had an eidetic memory, a sky high IQ, and a brain that constantly wanted more knowledge. Mix that with ambitious parents and you had three PhDs and four degrees with a fifth one on the way. It was easier not to go into it, though, so you kept your career to yourself. 

While your mind was stellar, your communication skills outside of the classroom were not. And once you realized you didn’t have anything else to contribute, you slowly backed away. “Well, happy reading.”

“Hold on,” the man said before you could get too far. “Do you have any recommendations? I’m trying to get back into reading.”

Get back into reading? You would never know what that was like. There was never a moment where you didn’t have at least one book on your person. Biographies, novels, essay collections, it didn’t matter. Reading was your first and only love. Well, except for your cat. Reading was your first and only inanimate love.

“Y/n, it’s here!” the shopkeeper called.

The man looked at you curiously, and you were stuck between leaving him behind and getting a book for him. That could take forever, though! You didn’t know what this person liked or what he was looking for. He had Emerson in his hands, but that didn’t really help you understand his taste. A classic? No, that would be too obvious. Maybe a play? It was a good option, and it would certainly be quicker than a novel.

Your mind sifted through titles and authors and genres, trying to find one that stuck out. It snagged on a title, and you were suddenly saying, “Uh…Wait here.”

Moving through the stacks, you went to the shelf you’d visited a month ago when you happened upon this book. You grabbed your copy and rushed back over to where the man was still waiting.

“I read this last month,” you said, handing the book over. It had all your notes and annotations in it, as you were the only person at this bookstore that got to rent books. 

You came so frequently that the shopkeeper made a deal with you—a flat rate once a month for as many books as you wanted. Since your library at home was already quite extensive, you took him up on it, and you’d been renting ever since. Sometimes if you really liked a book, you’d purchase it, but most times you returned it, more often than not with your notes in the margins.

“On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous,” the man said, reading the title off the cover.  “Alright, I’ll check it out.”

You didn’t wait around to see if he actually would. With a small wave, you were off, ready to get your hands—gloved, obviously—on a precious artifact.

----------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later and you were running late to your lecture. In your short teaching career, you’d never been late before. You were almost always early, occasionally on time, but never late. But just as you were leaving, you received a phone call from the police department.

Since you had a doctorate in forensic and criminal psychology and a degree in behavioral psychology, you often offered assistance on certain cases. Nothing like what might be seen on television, but you did read through case files and pinpoint things that were inconsistent or odd, looked at letters and notes to break down linguistics in the hopes that it would give something away, and looked at crime scene photos and provided any kind of knowledge that was stored inside your brain. You didn’t have a badge, and you didn’t go out into the field, but you did what you could. Another thing to keep you busy.

You were asked to look at another case file, which gave you an idea. Honestly, you were shocked you’d never thought of it before.

“This week we’re solving a murder.”

Everyone in your classroom had been chatting quietly, some playfully teasing you for being late to your lecture, until then. Some eyes were wide like they’d just been told you were giving the final today, others looked eager to apply what they’d learned.

You passed out the copies of the old case you got permission from the police department to use, explaining the rules as everyone got a packet. “Starting today, everyone will be getting into groups of three. You will attempt to solve a case from the seventies, using evidence from the case as it was collected. Everything you need is in the file, but I’ve labeled them to designate which day you should open each file. If you pay close attention, you should be able to solve this case quicker than the police did back then. Please do not skip ahead or look up this case online, this assignment is not being graded as such, but it will be an assessment of how much you’ve learned so far and what areas I need to go over more. I will expect a report from your group by the end of the week that details your findings, your process for solving the case, and of course, who did it and why you think so. Sound good?”

“Will you be taking part in the assignment?” one of your students asked.

You considered his question. “I hadn’t thought about it, but sure. I’m ending class early today because I really want you to use this time to focus on the assignment. You can use the classroom if you’d like, but if you are leaving, please let me know your groups beforehand. Have a good day, y’all.”

Nearly everyone left after that, but some groups stayed to work in the lecture hall or ask questions. Once everyone was taken care of, you left the room while flipping through your own case file, but it wasn’t the one you assigned to your class. Your eyes quickly scanned the new file given to you by the lead detective on the case, turning page after page as you looked at preliminary findings, autopsy reports, and possible suspects. Reading at a rapid pace was both a gift and an asset to you, it was what got you so many degrees and such a full library at home.

Unfortunately, sometimes your reading consumed you, and as you were walking and turning to the next page, you bumped into someone.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” you said, trying to catch your papers before they could fly away. Not only were they important, but they weren’t supposed to be read by the general public.

So focused on trying to put your file back together, you didn’t even notice who you bumped into, or that they had crouched down next to you to help. But then a hand rested on your arm and you froze. “It’s alright. I wasn’t looking either, to be fair.”

Your ears perked. Your excellent memory stemmed mostly from sight, but you remembered sound quite well too. You knew that voice.

Looking up, you saw the man from the bookstore. His face was covered up again, but his eyes were now covered by a pair of large black sunglasses as well, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, but not enough to cover a small tuft of hair that was clipped together. He didn’t seem to show any signs of remembering you, though, so you didn’t mention your previous encounter.

The man tried to offer you a hand to help you up, but you didn’t take it, for no other reason than restricting the spread of germs. You were always conscious of viral infections and catching things from strangers, but the pandemic made you more paranoid, and now you had a hard time just shaking hands with people.

“Woah,” he said, looking over one of the papers he helped you retrieve before handing it back to you. “This sounds serious.”

“It is,” you said matter of factly.

Some people didn’t like your bluntness, but he seemed to take it in stride. “Are you a detective or something?”

“...Or something.”

He took off his sunglasses to look you in the eye. “Or something,” he repeated. “You’re just full of mysteries, aren’t you?”

So he did remember you. “Not really. I just consult for the police department from time to time.”

“This is labeled as a series of murders. Possibly serial,” he said, perplexed by your casual tone. 

“It probably is, that’s why I’m consulting,” you said. “But you’re not really supposed to see that, so if I could just get those back, please.”

You reached your hand out for the papers, but he held them just out of reach. “Hold on, now I’m really curious. Where are you headed?”

“Home. Why?”

“I want to know more about what you do. I promise I won’t look at these,” he said, waving the remaining papers in his hand. “And I want to discuss the book you recommended.”

“You read it?” you asked, completely forgetting about part of the case file that was being held hostage.

“Of course. Maybe we could get coffee somewhere? I understand if you don’t want to invite me into your home.”

“It would probably be safer,” you agreed.

His eyes were crinkling, which made you think he was smiling behind his mask. “Because I could be a suspect?”

“What? No, I know it’s not you.”

“I know I shouldn’t be offended, but you wrote me off so quickly,” he joked, but you could tell he wasn’t actually hurt. If he was, it definitely would’ve been a red flag.

You shrugged, reaching your hand out. “You don’t fit the profile.”

“Ah. Right,” he agreed, though you were pretty sure he had no idea what you were talking about. “So, what do you say? Coffee?”

“Well…” You really needed to get home and work on this case. You already had some thoughts about it that would be helpful, and you didn’t want to chance losing parts of the file like you’d nearly just done now. “This is kind of time sensitive.”

“I understand,” the man said, and did you detect a slight twinge of disappointment in his voice? “Can I at least walk you back to your place and we can talk as we go? I promise I’m not a stalker or a murderer or anything. I just really liked the book and need someone to discuss it with.”

Even if he was a stalker or a serial killer, which you didn’t think he was, you had a black belt in two forms of martial arts, so you’d be more than capable of getting away, or at least doing some damage, but you didn’t tell him that. “Sure. I guess that’s okay.”

----------------------------------------------------------

You ended up inviting him into your home. Both of you had so much to say about the book you read, and by the time you made it to your front door, you were only halfway through your recommendation list, so you asked if he wanted to come inside so you could write them all down. He took you up on the offer, holding the door open for you after you unlocked it. He kept his mask on, and didn’t question you when you asked him to wash his hands and slide surgical booties over his shoes. Though things were slowly, very slowly, going back to normal in Cambridge, the virus was still spreading, and you weren’t taking any chances. 

“Sorry about the mess, I was in a bit of a rush this morning.”

“I’m not sure you would classify this as ‘mess,’” he replied, his green eyes wide as he took in the main room of your townhouse. There were books everywhere—on large bookshelves, stacked on top of each other next to the bookshelves, on your antique coffee table, and underneath lampstands. The shopkeeper’s deal to rent his books really came in handy, you were running out of space to put them.

While he browsed your bookshelf, you cleaned up your kitchen, putting aways the stray cup and plate you had to leave on your kitchen table this morning to rush to the police station. It wasn’t like you to leave dishes out like that, but you didn’t have the time to clean up after yourself. Now that everything was put away, you could rest a bit easier.

Once everything was cleaned up, you pulled your laptop out of your backpack and began drafting an email. When you invited him inside, you told him that you had to send it before you sat down to discuss anything else. Lives were literally at stake, that had to come first even when a cute stranger wanted to pick apart your brain about your favorite books.

Cute? Was he cute? You’d only seen the top half of his face, but your stomach fluttered more intensely anytime his eyes crinkled at something you said on the walk to your house, and he seemed to have a nice physique beneath his baggy sweatshirt. Objectively speaking, he was attractive, but looks were never something that attracted you to someone. You liked relationships of the mind. Someone who at least tried to be interested in the things that you were. It didn’t happen often, but this stranger seemed to hang on your every word, and that made your heart beat faster more than anything else.

Shaking your head, you focused on the email you had to send. Once it was drafted, edited, and looked over twice, you sent it, hoping that you’d done your part to better society.

The stranger looked your way when you joined him in the main room. His hands were behind his back and his shoulders slightly hunched as he inspected a shelf that was somewhat shorter than him. 

“You have a pretty diverse collection,” he said.

“Thank you. I like to hunt for rare first editions and signed copies when I can,” you said, joining him by one of your bookshelves. “You can take one off the shelf if you’d like.”

Never had anyone been so interested in your collection before, and it made you want to share with him even more. Not once had he judged you for having so many books or for your tastes or what was clearly an obsession. He just wanted to know more, and you could never turn down an opportunity to share knowledge.

“Not a lot of poetry,” he said absentmindedly, his eyes still scanning the shelves. 

“It’s not my favorite. Why? Do you like poetry?”

He shrugged. “As much as the next person, I suppose.”

Before you could reply or show him your beloved American classics, your cat softly padded across the floor and twirled himself around the stranger’s legs.

“And who might you be?” he asked, eyes wide, but not repulsed. It occurred to you then that you probably should’ve warned him about your cat in case he had allergies, but by the way he reached down to pet him, you didn’t think there were any sprouting problems. 

“That’s the Emperor,” you said, picking up your cat. 

“The Emperor? Like in Star Wars?”

“No, his full name is Emperor Trajan, my favorite of the Roman Emperors. But I usually just call him the Emperor so that people can associate him with whomever they want.”

He tilted his head at you. “You have a favorite Roman Emperor?”

“Mmhm. I went through a Roman antiquity phase last year.”

You were worried that you shared too much, revealed too much. Your students knew how much knowledge you had about almost everything, but there was a barrier between you and them. This person in front of you willingly came into your home to see your collection of books and to talk to you more, but what if you weren’t what he was expecting? 

“Sorry, that probably sounded weird,” you blurted, hugging your cat a little tighter to your chest.

“Don’t be sorry. No one should have to apologize for their interests,” he said, and though your first thought was to not believe him, you felt he was being sincere.

“Well, I think the guy who murdered a bunch of people should apologize for his interests,” you said, referring to your case file. He blinked at you, and your eyes widened. “That was a joke!”

You were afraid that your dry sense of humor was going to be the thing to really send him packing. Perhaps it wasn’t funny to joke about those things, but you found it necessary sometimes in order to deal with reading and looking at some of the horrible crimes people committed. 

And then he did the strangest thing. He laughed. You were so surprised, that you let out a small laugh of your own.

Reaching out, he scratched the Emperor behind his ears. “So, tell me more about this Emperor Trajan, and why he should be my favorite too.”

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles fic

[agentc0rn]

Teal Mask: Kieran’s desire for strength - not just becoming strong as a trainer but also as a resilient individual in general. *LONG THREAD WARNING*

Just wanted to contribute further to the teal mask content and all that juicy stuff. As we all know, we all have unfortunately witnessed a poor boy’s down-spiral character arc. It is evident that Kieran wants to attain strength to become a stronger trainer and person as a whole. He outright states that he wants to become independent, capable, and reliable at some point. His motivation and source of support - ogerpon -  more so the legend version of ogerpon than the “real” ogerpon, was once a common innocent fixation that many of us probably had/have in our lives, that was then tragically turned to an unhealthy obsession. It became a poor coping mechanism and desperate means of proving himself that pushed him towards reckless methods and mannerisms.  

Parallels with Loyal Three

I mentioned in the comment section of one post that his desire for power parallels with Okidogi. Additionally, he shares similar sentiments with Fez and Munki. He wants to be “cool” like the ogre (achieve a cool status that of a hero, admired for their strength) and seeks knowledge on the ways to succeed like us - he wants to know how to become stronger -  “why can’t I be like you?”. This is shown through his tactics, team member swaps and appearance change at the end. 

Foils with other characters

I find it sad how as Ogerpon learns to open up, heal and receives support, Kieran does not have a proper, stable one since the start - his sister has supported him in some ways of course, but her attitude/actions likely has also contributed to his sense of inferiority. Thus, the combination of misunderstanding, cultural norms, strained familial relationships, miscommunication, and self inflicted misjudgments have pushed him further down the hole. It’s almost as if he is the foil of Nemona (yet also alike) in terms of how strength as a social arbiter determines one’s worth and outlook. Nemona became so strong but at a social cost; no one wants to compete or keep up with her and misreads her passion (likewise with Kieran and his interest in history). She just wants someone to battle with with all of their efforts and enjoy the battle the same way she does, which she does not mind losing. On the other hand, if you’re weak then you would likely get made fun of or ignored, which we see Kieran has internalized that idea through his accusations of us and Carmine laughing behind his back (perhaps this is a common concept that runs in blueberry academy? Competition and becoming the best are of utmost importance). Moreover, he is, in a way, a foil of Arven in ascribing to a legend and superstition - except Arven learns to embrace support after being alone for so long, heals and accepts korai/Mirai, while Kiki feels further isolated, loses grasp of who Ogerpon really is by going against her boundaries and runs away from opportunities of support. As for Penny, it is clear that they share a reclusive nature and willingness to not conform to, but to confront social standards. Penny takes self accountability for her actions, whereas for Kieran, while he does apologize at times and keeps his word - soon gets lost in a convoluted, distorted sense of right and wrong (him stealing the teal mask, and him not wanting to join the mask retrieval mission may seem selfish at first, but it could be that he didn’t want to be a burden as well as be seen sulking). He unfortunately (would) becomes the antagonist or better yet, the oni in our path.

Peach Symbolism

On another hand, kieran may be the peach boy in a sense but reverse. His actions and desire fulfilled the required conditions for the resurrection of the loyal three (desire for “revenge”) and thus indirectly leads them to endanger Ogerpon.  In one of my previous posts, I wrote a poem about how Kieran's dreams were sweet like peach, but then got crushed. And like certain fruits, it has seeds that contains some poison but not at a dangerous level (unless consumed at high amount ofc), which ties to the toxic chain and dokutaro that has been theorized to be external influences partially responsible for his behaviour.

Hero + heroic values

Finally, that one part when he says you’re like the hero of the story (that line goes hard and breaks the fourth wall, it’s been mentioned a lot in visual works on pixiv and social discourses), is a dealbreaker of his wish to keep his new friendship. Despite the portrayal of him hating the player (through memes which I do laugh at, and artworks/ discussions which I agree while sad about it) I think he is mad at us for sure, but not spiteful. Or maybe slightly. I think above all, he is mad at himself;  he constantly faces inner turmoil  to overcoming his helplessness, insecurity, and the process of revising his dreams and outgrowing his old ones. He had to forfeit his one childhood dream and now recognizes that he has to change in some way (albeit a bit extreme). In an ironic way, he would likely become his idealized version of strength, like "his" ogerpon - a strong “oni”- aka champion of bb academy. But again, while physical strength is a quality emphasized many times, Kieran wants to grow mentally strong to endure losses and humiliations both as a trainer and individual (ex. he is told down by his sister as seen in the beginning). He wants to be appreciated and not looked down as someone who is meek, weak and cowardly, which he tries so hard to build himself up on the virtues of a hero. He values honesty and a fair fight and tries to fulfill them to "earn" respect from people + ogerpon as a trainer. And maybe, that is when he feels that he is equal on par with you, and that he can be considered good enough to be our friend.

I really feel a lot for Kieran, because I do see myself in him (not in an obsessive way though) - hated losing, shy, hyerpfixations… I see his good traits and flaws - he is curious, sensitive, empathetic, has a critical mind of mainstream narratives but is also insecure and stubborn. I see too much simplistic takes on them (Kieran is narcissistic victim, Carmen is abusive,etc), like I get some aspects of the ideas, but saying that in a deterministic way does not define the character at all…

#I love discussions of this character #Flawed and deeply human #rival kieran #kieran pokemon #pokemon kieran #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #the teal mask #the indigo disk #ac rambles #pokemon sv dlc #pokemon dlc #this recurring theme of become who you want to be/what you wish to get is just so interesting #Penny says this when she terrastilizes #and the parallels with Kieran and the Loyal Three… #thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[lollytea]

in regards to that text post you tagged as hunlow followed by "listen to me". i have a chair. i am sitting down. i'm listening if you want to explain.

Waaah I am all jumbled up so this is not gonna be very eloquent but lemme do a little word vomit here.

Anyway. The poem 'Yes & No' by Natalie Wee and the complete huntlow overload it gives me every time I read it.

It works from both their perspectives on how they view the other person. Those parallels do be paralleling. I might blabber about it from Hunter's POV....another day. But because the poem is written by a woman and refers to a 'Him' lets focus on Willow's side of things. It's the side that gives me the most brainrot anyway. I really do love a good subversion. A girl who thinks she is too monstrous for a boy whom she views as too gentle.

I think very often about Willow's relationship with her own powers. The show went somewhat into depth about how being 'Half a Witch' destroyed her confidence. The part of her that could not excel at anything that wasn't plant-centric. There's nothing particularly complex about her feelings of inferiority. It's very easy to understand. She's Mildred Hubble coded.

HOWEVER it's also shown in her debut episode that Willow losing control of her emotions can lead to big destructive outbursts. This is the part that was touched on as a conflict in For the Future, but was never really explored at length.

This ability of hers is extremely dangerous. She can severely hurt both herself and the people around her. Surely, that must be a frightening reality for a little girl to live with.

I wonder when these outbursts first started. I wonder if that incident in the detention pit was the first time her own magic nearly killed her. I wonder if something happened on the day of Amity's birthday party when little Willow felt like she had lost everything. I wonder a lot of things. But mostly I wonder how being like this since she was young has effected Willow's mindset, her behaviour and her complexes. What does she think of herself? Is she afraid of what she's capable of? Is she afraid of her own emotions?

Anyway, with that in mind. Here is the poem. Beat by beat.

reasons to not kiss him:

1. you weren’t raised to love tender.

Willow was born and raised to be a sweet gentle girl with a soft spot for plants. She's silly and lighthearted yet mature for her age and tries to remain rational in irrational situations. She allows hugs from Gus and she allows Luz's touchy affection and cooing over how cute she is.

But by "love tender", I interpret it as Willow not knowing how to love and be loved in a way that puts her in a vulnerable position. The bleeding open wound kind of love. She's already been thrown away once in her life like she's something disposable so she has decided that it will inevitably happen again. Willow has already braced herself for Luz and Gus finding other friends and leaving her behind. She's loved them so sweetly this whole time but she's always been keeping them at arm's length, scared to pour too much of her heart into their hands. She's simply savouring the time she has with them until they drift away.

But Hunter is a different story. There is something about him that demands she love tender. And it's terrifying that she feels the pressure to do so. And it's even more terrifying that she so badly wants to.

2. when he’s around all you do is tremble. when he’s around you want to get on your knees. look how much power he has over you. it’s dangerous.

Willow is a girl who has been carelessly discarded like her feelings meant nothing, made to feel like she was a waste of an existence and who is also deathly afraid of herself and the unstable magical battery pulsing inside of her. This results in having to lock up her more reckless emotions in order to keep everyone safe, but also to protect her own heart. She's gotten good at it. And she's also now perceived as an iron clad witch who cannot be weakened.

But the presence of Hunter reveals something very concerning. She can be weakened. His smile and his voice and his entire disposition is a breach of the barriers she has spent years building. He is capable of puncturing her clean through. And the part that makes her lips tighetn is that he's not even aware of it.

It doesn't sound so foreboding on the surface. So what if he can make her smile until she can't stop smiling? So what if he can make her laugh until she's breathless? But then she'd have to regain herself and realize that as harmless as that is, it's a result of her losing control of her emotions. Which she rarely does anymore. And it's all because of him with his soft eyes and his kind smile and his shy adoration for her.

And if he can do that, he can do far worse to her. That's the scary part.

3. he’s too good at forgiving and you’re too good at violence.

4. you know what they say about monsters. you know what happens to the boys who love them. are you going to do that to him?

5. your hands don’t know how to be gentle. think about the last beautiful thing that shattered in your palms. the fresh rosebuds crumbling between your fingers like a bruise. you wolf-boy, you war machine. you wouldn’t know how to hold something magic and not destroy it.

Willow is not stupid. She's not unobservant. Hunter did not need to stay a word for her to realize that he is a boy who has been wronged by someone who he loved with his whole aching heart. He has been hurt in a way that will leave his heart aching forever and ever.

But it's a sharp sting to know that in spite of that, he continues to fall deeply in love with every person who shows him compassion. Nothing can burn out his warm glow. He loves and he loves until he's sick with the stuff. And Willow doesn't know how he does it, but his glow is so nice to graze in. Once you get too close to him, you don't want to leave.

When Willow hugs him, his fingers tentatively twist into the sleeves of her cardigan. She sees how he looks at her and she knows he'd like nothing more than to squeeze her tight and drown in her.

He's in love with Willow the way he's in love with everything and she desperately wants to give him everything.

She wants to place her hands on his cheeks and watch as she melts into her palms, finally satiated after all he had been starving for.

She wants to fall in love with him.

But she can't. Because she knows he'd fall in love with her too.

And then eventually, she would hurt him. Like he had been hurt before.

She can't trust herself to not hurt him.

And in the aftermath of the hurt, she would cry herself hoarse with ragged apologies.

And because she was kind and because he knows she didn't mean to hurt him, he would squeeze her tight and say "It's okay."

Then she'd hurt him again.

"It's okay."

And again.

"It's okay."

A painful cycle that spins until there's barely of him left.

And Willow is scared that by that point that she'll be too weak for his soft eyes to ever let him go.

She doesn't know what will become of her.

She doesn't want to find out.

So to stay on the safe side, they will never begin.

6. if you hurt him it might kill you

7. if you hurt him you might kill yourself.

8. you are very bad at rehabilitation. this is one addiction you’d fail to give up. he’s going to ruin you for all other kisses and all other boys and you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to forget his name.

Willow has analyzed the situation and she's come to the conclusion that if she allowed this sweet boy entry to her briar n' bramble guarded heart, they'd bend to his will, clearing a path to the delicate structure. And once he holds it in his hands, he'll leave his fingerprints all over it.

This is the damage she's talking about.

The damage he can do to her.

9. you still aren’t sure he isn’t a dream.

10. if you kiss him, you might wake up.

You would think, with all this lamenting Willow does over Hunter's existence, that he's making her miserable.

Far from it.

She's reluctant to admit it, even to herself, but she's already addicted to whatever it is that he's emanating. Like a flower stretching towards the sunlight.

Sometimes he doesn't feel feel.

Typical of an overthinker to not believe that could be as wonderful as it seems.

In an ideal world, they could both make each other happy.

If she doesn't ruin everything.

Mistletoe kisses. Parasitic in nature.

What if she leeches all the light left in him?

What if a kiss is her wakeup call?

reasons to kiss him:

1. because he’s beautiful.

He's so beautiful.

2. because he asked.

He's begging. He's begging every time he looks at her. He certainly doesn't mean to. Nor does he know that he's doing it. But somehow, without saying a word, he has crumbled to his knees begging for her to pour of a little of her heart into his lips to warm his blood.

He wants her to love tender and be loved raw. And he wants to do the same.

And if she said no, he would simply reply "that's okay."

But she doesn't want to say no.

She wants to give him everything.

That's the problem.

And even worse....she is pretty sure she is about to crack.

She will give him everything.

Because...

3. because he preceded please with, i’m not afraid of you.

#huntlow #man... #sorry im kinda unwell about them

[lurking-latinist]

re: these tags

THAT'S SO COOL AHHHH!! good for you aubreyad community stays winning

[introducing this with a disclaimer in case i'm wrong about everything: i am only halfway through the series rn (just about to finish 10) and also am but a mere undergrad classics major who has yet to even declare said major and I probably don't have the right to be yapping about propertius. nevertheless i shall.]

anyway i have been growing persistently more insane about diana's proximity to a Lot of classical imagery, like how her first appearance in post captain is literally during a fox hunt + all the gender stuff she has going, obviously linking her to mythological diana (and artemis if we're going to conflate the two) but your take has sent me in a whole new direction with that-- because she doesn't actually really embody the artemis archetype all too much overall (an emphasized character trait being that she's notably Not Chaste) EXCEPT in relation to stephen, w/ whom her relationship is much more brotherly than it is sensual i guess?

which would align very well with your idea of diana as elegiac puella-- sort of in a way being mythologized by stephen-- resulting in the reader actually being able to see two different manifestations of her character (one through the eyes of an omniscient prosaic narrator and one through the perspective of stephen as a "poet" figure). and i just think that's neat.

my latin class has also been looking at a few of propertius' love elegies and, at least to me, they read a lot like if stephen 1.) hated himself significantly less and 2.) were less indecisive in writing about his Feelings?? 1.8 (and all of the poems concerning cynthia moving/traveling away and propertius being all moody about it) is very reminiscent of the arc from post captain to the surgeon's mate imo. 1.12 is also Literally Him-- "cynthia prima fuit cynthia finis erit" can be compared to stephen's poetic catastrophizing about how his life is Literally Over and Love Is Dead when he believes to have fallen out of love with diana!?!? i'm going to lose my mind.

sorry for dumping all of this on you unprompted and also sorry for the fact that it probably does not make sense. peace and love

if undergrad classicists don't talk about propertius literally WHO WILL. (genuinely my currently-being-written phd dissertation chapter is based on an idea I had in the class I read propertius in freshman year. never feel like you're not a 'real scholar' or something yet, because you honestly never do become something different, you just keep reading and talking and this is what we do! there's nothing realer than this!)

oh wow that's really well put--we kind of get to see her from an omniscient-narrator perspective and through the eyes of her lover who is Not Being Normal About Her. very nice!

yeah I keep reading bits of propertius and being like "hmm is po'b going to quote this one I wonder." (he doesn't mostly but I keep thinking he should. because I want the aubreyad to be denser and less accessible I guess? :P) there's a lot of catullus woven in too of course - I associate Catullus 72 with the 'falling out of love' arc (my dude that is not what falling out of love looks like).

oh gosh yes 1.8 -- that was one of the things I was trying to describe to Distinguished Classicist, the way she's so -- what's the word I want? not volatile... she disappears. she's constantly Gone. you turn around and oops, she's eloped to Sweden. (honestly though if Cynthia and Propertius could manage to have *fake* revenge affairs that would actually be *great*, for them that would be an improvement.) Gareth Williams (in a chapter called, amazingly, "From Grave to Rave") describes Cynthia as "ever only elusively visible in the narratological mist" and I feel like that's a bit what's going on with Diana. For her there's a genre element as well--she's a woman in the Men Going to Sea books, and even though the Aubreyad gives way more time to women than the average Men Going to Sea book, the fact is the camera frequently simply isn't on her. We see far more of Stephen thinking about her, hearing rumors, etc. than we do of her actually being on the page. Now in elegy nobody seems to be quite fully on the page, we only get "fragments of story" as Genevieve Liveley and Patricia Salzmann-Mitchell say (excellent collection by that name btw, I recommend checking it out if you're at all interested in narrative and lyric/elegy). But Diana manages this while being in a novel, which is impressive to me.

yeah stephen as a character is a lot more... self-reflective? than propertius' speaker. for one thing he's in a novel, I think, so he can actually... have a series of contiguous experiences. he's also a compulsive diarist which is helpful for self-reflection I guess. and more mature, like, as a human being, than propertius' speaker, who apparently does nothing with his life except be in love and write poetry, he doesn't exist outside of as a poetic voice whereas, again, stephen benefits from a third-person narrator and has medicine and spying to do and so on. also he's Catholic.

I love the "Catullus-and-water" line, it's like O'Brian just put in a little wink to those of us who would notice this, like, "yes I am doing this on purpose." All in all I've pretty much defaulted to assuming that O'Brian is doing things on purpose. although he did forget Babbington's first name that one time and retconned it very awkwardly

#aubreyad #aubrey-maturin #dissertationblogging