#A poem will be posted later today

[stickmenyaoi]

about absence; presence. Lover; Warrior

Inspired by.

[candiedspit]

I’m sorry I’ve been insane do u guys still like me 😭

[usermoon]

hey guys i miss you all and i miss simblr but unfortunately my brain sees the sims 4 icon and i malfunction 😭

[creatediana]

"Junho" - an exercise in willow charcoal done 4/22/2024 in about 20 minutes of Lee Junho from 2PM

[broke-on-books]

😍😍😍

[hauntedjellyfishtraveler]

I asked my mum if love is unconditional

She said it should be

I played it off as a hypothetical

Some random tangent from ethic class

But I think back to how she talks about

The T***ys and the R***ds and the F*gs

The terrible woke masses

Did you ever truly love me mum?

Or did you love the version of me with pigtails who idolised you and thought you a paragon of love and kindness?

I don't know if I love you

I don't know if I want to

You're my mum

But you're so so so mean

And you don't even know how much you hurt me

[niteshade925]

April 20, Beijing, China, National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆 (Part 1 - Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展):

Aaand finally, the National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆! I was lucky enough to see the famed Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展 here. Some of you may recognize some of these pieces already, since pictures and shorts of them have been circulating online way before I went on this trip, but there are many many other pieces too. The pieces I post here are only a small portion of the entire exhibition, so if you ever get a chance to see the exhibition elsewhere in person, don't hesitate. This stuff is amazing.

First up is one of the two that has been gaining popularity online, the piece named 神话 or "Legend".

The first time I saw a porcelain piece like this, I thought that the clothing part was made with paper? But no, the light fabric of the clothing, the hair, it's all porcelain. Keep in mind when looking through these pictures: every part of every piece is porcelain.

This piece is the other one that was becoming popular, the piece named simply 纸, or "Paper". If you don't look up close and see the glossy surface, you can't tell it's actually porcelain. I cannot for the life of me imagine the kind of magic that was used to turn clay into this

Anyway, this is a good point to introduce Dehua porcelain a little bit. Dehua porcelain is a regional specialty of Dehua/德化, which is located in Fujian province, and is known for its expressiveness and white color. For this reason it's also known in the West as "Blanc de Chine" (French: "white of China"), and this should be the reason why this exhibition is named 中国白, which basically means the same thing. The history of Dehua porcelain goes back to Song dynasty (960 - 1279), and it is still being produced today. Many of the pieces I'm posting here are modern pieces.

But Dehua white porcelain can be colored too (I imagine the color must be painted on later, because the white comes from the clay itself), and when it is colored, it looks like it came right out of a painting

This piece is especially amazing to me. Look at the texture, look at those details. Zoom in and you will find that there are actually a bunch of porcelain ants on this porcelain tree stump. Porcelain ants. I never expected to use porcelain as an adjective when describing ants. Wtf. It's like a manifestation of a scene from an older animated movie.

Peanuts are called 花生 in Chinese, which literally means "flower grow", and because it also has a long shelf life, it symbolizes longevity and a happy marriage. Also a fun fact: because Watson of Sherlock Holmes is usually phoenetically translated as 华生 (huá shēng) in Chinese and sounds similar to 花生 (huā shēng), you will find that many in the Chinese SH fandom refers to Watson as "peanut".

This piece is titled 春色满园, or "garden filled with spring scenery". This is also a common 4-character word used to describe gardens in spring. I'm guessing the figure depicted here is one of the flower gods. It is one of my personal favorites because of its superb depiction of movement, it's as if the flower god will really fly away on clouds at any moment

More depictions of traditional Chinese deities, specifically Chang'e/嫦娥, the moon goddess. That moon rabbit is too cute.

Depictions of what I'm assuming is the Four Heavenly Kings/四大天王, based on the items they are holding. The Four Heavenly Kings are Buddhist deities.

Look at her clothing! That porcelain is so thin it's almost see-through! Also is it depicting Li Qingzhao/李清照, the famous female poet from Song dynasty? She does have a famous ci poem that's about paddling a boat in a lake full of lotuses while drunk

The piece titled 锦绣前程, or "future as vibrant and prosperous as silk brocade". This is also a common 4-character word used in well wishing. The figure in this piece is holding a xiuqiu/绣球, a ball made of silk, which was usually seen as a token of love

Somewhat more modern-themed pieces:

Among the hundreds of amazing pieces, this one caught my attention for its unique texture. When everyone else was trying to turn the clay into these thin sheets representing fabric or paper or flower petals, this artist took the noodle approach. Not many visitors seemed to like it, but I think it's pretty cool

Piece titled 运势如虹, or "fortune like the rainbow", also a 4-character word used in well wishing. Traditionally horses symbolize vitality and success, hence why many people use the words 马到成功 ("horse's arrival brings success") and 龙马精神 ("vitality of dragons and horses") in well wishes during Year of the Horse

Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Dehua white porcelain exhibition!

[homunculus-argument]

The reason I like history so much is the way you can see how unchanging human nature is. People have always been doing the same things, with different tools. Ancient Sumerians writing "I am not warning you now in hopes that you'll actually do anything, I am writing this to later prove that I warned you and you did nothing" messages in clay tablets like you'd write an office e-mail. Ancient philosophers talking about shepherds and archers, explaining the exact same problem you had this morning, like they're personally calling you out.

200 years ago, somebody was complaining about Kids These Days burying their faces in books in order to avoid socialising just the same as someone else is now ranting how their children would rather browse their phones than listen to them rant. People were arguing anonymously in the posting boards and newspaper sections just the same as they do on the internet. Someone in the bronze age woke up at 5 am to the sound of toddlers fighting over complete nonsense just the same as someone woke up to the same noises today.

For as long as there have been people, there have been people doing the same kind of things as you. From some dude in a cave with berries for paint, some Roman planning a mosaic on a wall, ancient Chinese noblewoman illustrating her calligraphed poem and some medieval monk decorating the borders of a manuscript and me on my laptop with my stylus pen, we're all just sitting here in our different times and places, wondering why the FUCK are horses so hard to draw.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.

{Reader's POV}

12/07/2012

Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.

02/01/2013

OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.

I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.

My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.

So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.

After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.

Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.

18/12/2013

Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!

I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.

04/03/2014

Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.

Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.

We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.

After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.

17/05/2015

Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.

09/08/2015

This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.

[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]

[nesmamomen]

➡️Today I am starting the We Are Not Numbers initiative to commemorate the martyrs.

Let's publish the stories of the martyrs. Please reblog the post

If I must die

you must live

to tell my story

Dr. Refaat Alareer (September 23, 1979 – December 6, 2023)

He is a Palestinian academic, writer and poet from the Gaza Strip, and is called by some the “pioneer of the English language.” He teaches literature and creative writing at the Islamic University of Gaza, and co-founded the We Are Not Numbers project, which aims to address the suffering of Gazans in the aftermath of the 2023 Israeli-Palestinian war, and which pairs Gazan authors with mentors abroad to help them write stories about their reality in English.

Refaat was committed to his mission of teaching and passing on his knowledge to the rising generations. He believed that education is one of the most powerful weapons in the face of the occupation. He was not just a university professor, but an inspiration to students, encouraging them to explore science and develop their skills to build a better future. He dedicated his time and knowledge to serving Palestine, and took it upon himself to work on research projects that could contribute to improving the situation within the Strip, despite the great challenges he faced

He had announced his refusal to leave northern Gaza days after the Israeli ground response to the 2023 Palestinian-Israeli war. He had published a widely circulated poem on the X platform entitled “If I Must Die,” concluding it with the words: “Let it inspire hope, let it be a story.”

Refaat and his family were killed on December 6, 2023, during an Israeli airstrike on his sister’s home in northern Gaza. His brother, sister, and four children were also killed in the bombing, during the Israeli response to the 2023 Palestinian-Israeli war.

His friend Asem al-Nabih, a member of the Gaza Municipality’s Emergency Committee, who was with him for many days of the war and until the last hour before he was targeted, mourned him and described him as a source of ideas and a real human being. Later, on April 26, 2024, Israel assassinated his daughter Shaima, along with her husband and three-month-old infant.

@fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain @aleciosun @fluoresensitivearchived @khizuo @schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamarrud @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @camgirlpanopticon @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi @sygol @junglejim4322 @heritageposts @chososhairbuns @palistani @dlxxv-vetted-donations @imjustheretotrytohelp

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (I)

Chapter 1 : ‘And that orange, it made me so happy, as ordinary things often do just lately’

Hi, everyone!!! I’m so glad to finally start posting this series! I know I’ve been talking about it for a while, and I thank all of you for being interested and even excited about it! I hope you won’t be disappointed!

The first chapters will set the plot into motion, of course, we need to get the story going!

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3502

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The Orange

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange— The size of it made us all laugh. I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave— They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park. This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all the jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I’m glad I exist.

Wendy Cope, The Orange and Other Poems, 2023

There was sunshine upon the Liffey that morning. A scent of new beginnings in the air, a whisk of excitement in the breeze.

You took a deep breath before entering the college grounds. This was what you had worked so hard for, for so long…

You were finally working in a university, you were a researcher, you would be teaching to younger generations about your passion. And every time you thought about that truth, that new reality, your heart made a happy jump, and a grin formed on your lips.

You were there. At long last. You had a teaching position, you had money for your research, and you had this at Trinity College, no less.

For now, there were no students, the grounds were empty, filled with nothing but old stones, bending trees and sunlight. The year had not begun yet, it was still the early days of August, filled with warm weather, summer storms and a tinge of sun here and there. It seemed that your first day was one of those sunny, warm days that felt too much like vacation time to work. A good omen, if you had ever seen one. A good omen for your life that seemed to fall perfectly into place these days. Professionally, you were achieving your goal today, with this position in the best university in Ireland. Your family was proud, and so were you. And on a personal point of view, you were engaged, to be married to a successful man. You glimpsed at the diamond on your finger. You didn’t have a date for the wedding yet, but you were aiming for spring of the coming year. Frank had proposed during the summer, while you were on a trip for your vacation in Wales. You smiled at the memory. You were lucky this year, your life was perfect, or at least, successful. You were ticking all the right boxes. What else could you ask for?

You walked between the still frames of Edmund Burke and Oliver Goldsmith, stepping finally on the grounds of Trinity College. And you took a deep breath as you stepped into the entrance hall, crossing the building to reach the first courtyard hidden inside. You gathered your thoughts, tried to slow down your beating heart that was pounding with nerves and excitement.

You were to meet one of the fellows of your department, Professor O’Connell. You had never met the woman, but she seemed kind enough on the phone, if strict in her tone. You checked your watch, but you were still seven minutes early. At least, you would not make a bad first impression because you were late…

You hurried under the archway at the centre of the yard, glancing at the forbidden green grass on both sides, and the tall buildings that surrounded it. You tried to calm yourself, thinking that you were an assistant professor already, even if this was your first stable job, that you knew what you were doing, that the papers you had already published were proof of your academic success and your worth as a researcher. You could do this. You could do this…

You walked towards the English department with hesitant steps, trying to follow directions on the various signs scattered across the grounds. A fifty-something woman waved at you from afar though, she seemed to be waiting in front of a building. You smiled, hurried towards her, hoping that you were not mistaken and that she was, indeed, the woman you were looking for…

“Y/N Y/L/N?” she asked, and you nodded your head with a grin.

“Yes! Professor O’Connell, I assume?” you answered, offering her your open hand, which she took with a smile.

“Oh, Lydia is more than enough. How are you?”

“Grand… grand…”

“Welcome to Trinity, I guess. I’ll guide you for a quick visit of our building, and then leave you in the competent hands of our HR department for you to sign off some paperwork. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

She guided you across the large stone building in which you would be working from now on. You easily got lost in the maze of corridors, staircases and halls you were crossing. Still, she showed you the cafeteria in which you were introduced to a few of your new colleagues, some of the classrooms, and finally she guided you to the HR, where a middle-aged woman gave you some paperwork to sign.

Lydia was waiting outside, ready to guide you to your office. A new maze of corridors opened before your feet, but you said nothing, figured that you would eventually get used to it. You took a turn to the right to another corridor, headed straight for the door a few steps ahead. Wooden, with two plaques fixed on its surface.

Dr. Andrew Hozier-Byrne

Dr. Y/N Y/LN

Your heart skipped a few beats at the sight of your name there, engraved in copper.

“You’ll be sharing your office with another of our assistant professors,” Lydia explained. “Andrew arrived last year, he’s working mostly on 20th century literature… but I’ll let him talk your ears off about his research.”

She knocked, didn’t wait for a response before opening the door.

The office was tiny, to say the least, but it was enough for the two desks and chairs set there, a wardrobe and a few shelves. There was a poster of Johnny Cash on one of the empty spots on the white walls, and a large window facing the door, behind one of the desks. The other desk was set on the left-side of the room, a tinier window behind it.

A man was sitting in the chair behind the desk in front of the larger window, and he looked up as the door opened and Lydia walked in, you following close behind.

“Good morning, Andrew,” Lydia greeted her colleague with a smile. “This is Y/N, our new assistant professor, who’s going to share your office this year.”

Andrew’s eyebrows arched slightly, although he still gave you a warm but shy smile, standing in a hurry. You couldn’t help your surprise as he stood up, towering you with an intimidating height. He seemed to have long hair, that he had tied in a bun. You studied his features, something kind and gentle made his hazel eyes shine, a short beard coloured his cheeks. He readjusted his glasses, as he quickly stepped around his desk. He was wearing a black turtleneck and dark jeans, there was a brown jacket thrown on the back of his chair.

You looked up at him as his smile widened just a little, still polite but with an extra-touch of kindness now. His body was intimidating though, and the fact that he was handsome wasn’t helping. He bent to avoid the lamp that was hanging from the ceiling.

“Of course! Erm… hi, nice to meet you,” he greeted you, offering you his open palm, avoiding eye-contact. You weren’t expecting how soft his voice was, how quiet his tone sounded. If his height gave something intimidating to his appearance, his voice countered that feeling, and you immediately felt more at ease.

“Hi! It’s very nice to meet you too, Andrew!”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to settle,” said Lydia, addressing you. “My office is down the corridor, if you need anything. But I’m sure Andrew can help you with the rest. The HR gave you everything you needed to access a computer?”

“Yes, I’ve got everything.”

“Good. Settle this morning, we’ll have a talk about your research this afternoon. The meeting for the upcoming year and classes is set later this week, you’ll get all the information you need for your teaching then.”

“Alright, thank you so much.”

She gave you a bright smile, before walking out of the room.

You were left alone with Andrew, who gave you another shy smile, rubbing at his palms.

“Erm… right… obviously, there is a large selection of desks you can choose from in this room,” he joked, his tone still stern, and you noticed how he was biting the inside of his cheek.

But you laughed good-heartedly at his joke, and he raised his eyebrows at your reaction.

“Hmm… I guess I’ll take this beauty over there,” you said, dropping your bag on your desk.

“Good choice,” he nodded, fleeing your gaze again. “Erm… I’ve emptied a couple of shelves over there for you too, and made some room in the wardrobe as well.”

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him and caught his eyes again, noticed their pretty hazel shade.

You turned on your computer, looked through your papers for the password that had been given to you so you could log in.

“So… what’s your research about?” he asked, a little awkward, shifting his weight while burying his hands in his pockets.

You noticed how he was bending his head and shoulders a little, as if to look smaller than he was.

“I work on feminism and the use of the female gaze in literature, as opposed to the male gaze.”

He raised an eyebrow, and you noticed how his gaze lit up with interest.

“Oh… that’s so interesting!”

You were surprised by the earnestness in his tone. The academic world was a particularly misogynistic one, after all. Most men in your field were enemies rather than allies.

“Yeah… I… I think so too,” you smiled, cursing yourself for your naïve answer. “I mean… If I chose to work on that, it means that I’m interested in it, but…”

He chuckled, the sound as quiet as his voice. You were still surprised by it, by the contrast it offered to his intimidating stature.

“Totally, yeah…”

“What about you?”

“20th century literature… mostly modernism and contemporary poetry. So… Lots of Joyce, Woolfe, Heaney and the likes.”

“Nice! That sounds interesting.”

“I mean… I teach a lot about modernism, but my research is more focused on poetry, especially poets who are currently writing.”

“That’s pretty rare, to have scholars studying contemporary art, instead of… dead people.”

You both chuckled at that.

“Yeah… but I… I mean… I value a lot the political weight of art, so… I find it more interesting to study something that talks about our current problems, rather than the problems from… four centuries ago or something...”

“Can’t argue with that,” you nodded.

You exchanged a smile, noticed that Andrew was relaxing as well by now.

“Erm… I’ll let you settle down, but… tell me if you need anything. Oh, and…”

Andrew nodded towards an empty frame tugged away against the wall, in a corner of the room.

“There’s an empty spot on the wall, feel free to hang something you like in it. As long as it’s decent enough.”

“Oh… I will refrain from a poster of my naked celebrity crush then,” you joked, making Andrew laugh again.

“Please, refrain. Although, I will accept your latest pagan ritual to summon Chtulhu or something…”

He tensed again, bit the inside of his cheek, as if he regretted his joke, but you laughed, and he seemed a little surprised by it.

“Dully noted… so, I can bring my pentagrams at work?”

His smile widened.

“Feel free to do so. I can produce the goat for the sacrificial ritual, if you need.”

You chuckled again, and Andrew bent his head, but you noticed the way his shoulders relaxed.

“Right, sorry for the weird humour,” he apologised anyway, and walked back to his desk. “Tell me if you need help with anything. I have a couple of things to take care of, but I can show you around if you need.”

“Okay, thank you! Yeah, that would be grand! And no need to apologise, I have a rather dark humour too.”

You exchanged a smile, before both of you would focus on your computers. You managed to log into almost everything, started to create documents and files for your research, downloaded a few articles that you needed to read this week.

It was almost noon when Andrew looked up from his screen again.

“Erm… is everything alright for you?” asked Andrew, his voice still as quiet.

“Yeah… erm… I just can’t log into something.”

Andrew stood up, bent to avoid the lamp again.

“Can I take a look?” he asked softly, and he walked around your desk when you nodded.

He helped you log into the software you needed, showed you a couple of things that you would need to use often.

“Would you like to get lunch?” he asked you with a timid smile.

You answered with a bright smile.

“Yeah, sure!”

“Did you bring some food?”

“Erm… no…”

“That’s fine, no worries,” he chuckled at your sudden hesitation. “We have a cafeteria in our building, for the staff. But it’s more suited for a coffee break than anything else. You can’t buy food there, except for a few snacks from a vending machine. There’s an electric kettle, a coffee machine… there’s a microwave and fridge too, if you… like… want to bring your own food. But nothing to make proper food. We can go to the cafeteria on the campus, though.”

“Okay, that would be nice! Are you waiting for anyone else for lunch?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“Most people in the department are gone to a conference in Cork for three days,” he explained.

“How come you didn’t go?”

But Andrew merely shrugged.

“I wasn’t invited to be a speaker, and to be honest, it was mostly about subjects I’m not particularly interested in. Besides, someone had to stay behind to keep the new lecturer company,” he smiled with a tinge of mischief, and you liked the sight.

He waited for you to gather your things, and you walked together out of the building. Andrew showed you around the campus a little bit, mainly the library and a couple of buildings where you could be asked to teach. You followed him to the cafeteria as well.

“Do you eat here often?” you asked, as you took a look at the food that was available that day.

“When I can. It’s not bad. But students come here too, so you should come only if you can avoid the worst of the crowd. As this year hasn’t started yet, we’re in the clear for a few more weeks.”

You ordered a sandwich, while Andrew bought a salad, and you walked together to one of the many empty tables.

“Lydia told me it was your first job as a professor?” asked Andrew, before sipping on a glass of water.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve obviously been teaching and working in research for a while, but it’s my first year since I got that title,” you answered with a smile.

“Have you talked about your classes with Lydia yet?”

“No, not too much. I should be able to create a couple of lectures based on my research, but for the more… general stuff, nothing.”

Andrew nodded.

“Yeah, you might inherit some of the classes no one really wants to do, as you’re the newbie.”

“Did it happen that way for you?”

Andrew nodded again, but shrugged right after, swallowing a mouthful of salad.

“I mean, you’ll stay in something you’re used to, don’t worry. But a lot of people are holding the classes they enjoy teaching. You’ll have a limited choice in your field.”

“Any class that you’re hoping to drop?”

“One of them is bound to religion and religious references. I should be able to pass it to someone else this year. We’re exchanging. I’ll get a class on Yeats instead, which is much more in my area of expertise… and interests.”

“Not a religious guy, are you?”

He chuckled.

“Not really, no.”

He didn’t elaborate on the subject, and you didn’t want to push him, happy enough that your colleague and office-roommate was talking to you and acting with benevolence.

“Where did you teach before Trinity?” you asked instead, changing subject.

“Cork for a while, but my partner works in Dublin so I really wanted to move back on the west coast. And then I had the opportunity to come to Trinity last year, when I got the rank of assistant professor, so I didn’t really hesitate. What about you?”

“I taught for a while in Belfast, and they offered me a job when I became assistant professor. But I really wanted to teach at Trinity, so I applied and… got the job! My fiancé is working about halfway between Belfast and Dublin anyway, so it didn’t change much on his side.”

Andrew nodded.

“Relationships can be tricky with academic jobs, especially with how few the teaching positions can be.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.”

You had gotten a yoghurt for dessert, and Andrew some dry fruits. He handed you the packet, a questioning rise of his eyebrow as a silent enquiry. You smiled, opened your hand and he poured some fruits in your palm.

“Anyway, I hope you’ll get interesting classes, and especially that you can teach about your research. Aside from being interesting for you, I think it’s important to develop what you’re working on in our field.”

You smiled, and he seemed to notice, giving you an awkward smile of his own in exchange.

“Thanks. I think so too.”

“But I have a more important question to tackle.”

You raised a questioning eyebrow, inviting him to go on.

“What poster are you going to put in that empty frame?”

You couldn’t refrain a laugh.

“I have no idea,” you admitted.

“Well, think about it. The decoration of our office is at stake, that’s serious business.”

“Of course, of course. Definitely my number one priority.”

“Good, it should be. My Qi is very sensitive to that kind of stuff.”

You both laughed, and you felt yourself relax again.

You had a good feeling about Andrew, about your shared office, about your new job, about this whole life that was ahead of you.

The world was smiling to you, even the weather was on your side. What could possibly go wrong?

You were so excited to go home and tell everything to your fiancé. Frank got home before you did, you lingered a little longer than anticipated because you asked Andrew questions about how the university worked, the power dynamic in the department, the people you should avoid and those who were nice to talk to. And you wanted to tell Frank about Andrew too. You were so relieved that the colleague sharing your office was nice, kind even.

When you stepped inside, Frank was watching TV. He had ordered some takeaway, and was eating in front of a stupid show that was on, more focused on his phone than on the tv anyway. He jumped when you entered, put his phone away in a hurry.

“Hey, babe!” you greeted him with a grin, bending to kiss him as he sat on the couch.

“Hi! I ordered food for tonight,” he said, nodding towards the Indian food that was scattered across the coffee table.

“Nice!”

“You’re home late.”

You grinned, nodding your head.

“It went amazing!” you jumped up and down excitedly. “First, a senior professor, Lydia, came to pick me up and showed me around. She seems very strict, but nice as well. Apparently, as long as you do your job well, she’ll be on your side. I went to the HR to sign some papers, and…”

You noticed that Frank wasn’t paying too much attention anymore, so you rushed your explanation.

“Anyway, I’ve met a few colleagues, and especially Andrew! We’re sharing an office. He’s been of great help throughout the day, and he’s very sweet! Which is surprising given that he is quite literally a giant!”

“You’re sharing your office?”

“Yes!”

“With a guy?”

“Yes. His name is Andrew! He’s been teaching at Trinity for a year.”

You noticed the way Frank refrained from making a comment, knowing you would call him out for being jealous. You refrained a sigh.

“He lives near Dublin with his partner too. He’s specialised in poetry.”

Frank seemed to relax, and you struggled not to be annoyed by his reaction.

“It’s grand that your first day went fine, babe,” Frank gave you an earnest smile.

“I’m just so relieved that the guy sharing an office with me is not some… misogynistic gobshite. I mean, I don’t know Andrew very much, but he seemed to be more on the feminist side of the spectrum, so I’m sure we’ll be able to get along.”

“That’s nice.”

He didn’t ask any further question but he was still looking at you. You sat down next to him, and he handed you some food he had ordered for you. It wasn’t your favourite, but you liked it.

He opened his arm for you to settle against his shoulder, and you happily obliged. You thought about all the details you wanted to say, but knew would bore him. You chose another question instead.

“What are you watching?”

[hard--headed--woman]

Sooo you're used to it by now, here's my 4th special pride post, and today we're going to talk about

Marguerite Radclyffe-Hall !

Marguerite was born in 1880 and died in 1943. She was a British poet and writer, author of "The Well of Loneliness", a revolutionary and very important novel in lesbian literature. She never tried to hide her homosexuality.

Neglected by her parents as a child, she studied at King's College London, then in Germany. She reached adulthood without a vocation, and spent a big part of her twenties in a series of relationships with women who later left her to marry.

In 1907, at the spa town of Bad Homburg in Germany, Marguerite met Mabel Batten, a lieder singer nicknamed Ladye, and the two fell in love. Batten was 51 at the time, with a husband, grown-up daughter and grandchildren. Hall was 27.

The two move in together when Mabel's husband dies. At the time, Marguerite was known for her "masculine" appearance and constant wearing of "masculine" clothes; Mabel Batten nicknamed her "John", a nickname she kept all her life.

In 1915, Radclyffe-Hall fell in love with Una Troubridge, a cousin of Mabel's whom she had known for 10 years. Battel died the following year, and in 1917, the two women moved in together. The two lived together until Hall's death, despite Hall's many affairs (that Troubridge painfully tolerated).

She has written eight novels and several poems.

Her first novel, "The Unit lamp", (1924) tells the story of a young girl who dreams of moving into a London apartment with her friend Elizabeth (a so-called "Boston marriage") and studying to become a doctor, but feels trapped by her emotionally-dependent, manipulative mother.

The novel's length and complexity made it difficult to sell, so Marguerite chose a lighter theme for her next novel, a social comedy : "The Forge". The book was quite successful this time.

Her next two novels were a great success, especially "Adam's Breed" (1926), which won the Prix Femina and the James Tait Black Award, something that had only been achieved once before.

But her best-known novel is "The Well of Loneliness". Published in 1928, it tells the story of a butch lesbian, from her childhood in England to her stay in Paris, where she becomes a famous writer. The novel was the subject of an obscenity trial in the UK (despite not being sexually explicit), resulting in the destruction of all copies. The USA authorized its publication after a long, long legal battle. Considered a classic, an extremely important work of lesbian literature, "The Well of Loneliness" was 7th on Publishing Triangle's 1999 list of the best gay novels.

In 1930, Hall won the gold medal of the Eichelbergher Humane Award. She was a member of the PEN club, the Council of the Society for Psychical and a member of the Zoological Society of London.

She died of colon cancer in 1943, aged 63. Her impact on literature, and lesbian literature in particular, remains significant to this day.

You can find the list of her novels (and more details about her life) here !

And some of her poems here :

Hope you enjoyed, and see you tomorrow for the 5th post!

[jerzwriter]

It's Kiss-mas! A Carrick Family Holiday

Once again, @/artbyainna (IG) hits it out of the park! I have not done many commissions lately, but I wanted something special for my OTP for the holidays, and she delivered! Look at my babies with their babies!!! ❤️I'm simply in love with this!

I wrote a story to accompany it below.

Book: Open Heart (Post-Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Featuring: The Carrick Girls: Samantha, Brooke & Kayla Rating: General Words: 1,300 Summary: The Carrick family has opted to have a quiet Thanksgiving at home, and the girls have unknowingly started some new traditions.

Thanksgiving Morning

Thanksgiving morning was finally here, and the Carrick household was buzzing with activity. Tobias and Casey were in the kitchen perfecting their holiday meal while their daughters were in the adjoining family room. Toys were scattered about as Samantha read a poem about being thankful, Brooke busily colored decorations at the coffee table, and little Kayla sat nearby, babbling with delight. Casey watched the peaceful scene with a full heart; this was exactly the kind of holiday she had hoped for.

A short time later, Kayla’s sweet babbling stopped, and she waddled toward the kitchen with her dark curls bouncing and the look of joy that could only be found on a child’s face this time of year in place.  

“It’s Kiss-mas!” she announced triumphantly, beaming as she raised her arms in the air.

Samantha, who remained on the couch, rolled her eyes in true big-sister fashion. “It’s not Christmas, Kayla. Today’s Thanksgiving.”

Brooke looked up from her coloring, her brow slightly furrowed. Ever the peacemaker, she wanted to settle things quickly. “It is Thanksgiving,” she agreed. “But we can start celebrating Christmas today, too.”

Kayla’s tiny body appeared to tremble with glee. “Kiss-mas!”

Tobias scooped his youngest into his arms, pressing a kiss onto her chubby cheek. “You know what, sweetheart. We can start celebrating the Christmas season today.”

“Really?” Brooke gasped, her eyes wide. She had been trying to broker peace before but never imagined they’d get this lucky. “Does that mean we can put up the tree today?”

Casey joined the conversation, a soft smile on her lips. “We don’t have big plans,” she reminded Tobias. “Just us and the girls. So I think we could start decorating, don’t you?”

Tobias turned to her, Kayla wriggling happily in his arms. “I don't see why now. After dinner, we’ll make it happen. Tree, stockings, the works!”

“Yey!!!” Brooke squealed as she danced around the living room. Even Samantha couldn’t help but smile as Kayla happily declared, “It’s Kiss-mas!” once more.

Dinner Time

The house was filled with the aroma of roasting turkey. Samantha helped Tobias set the table, and Brooke and Casey were finishing up in the kitchen as Kayla chased the family cat, Pietro, all around the room. While Tobias and Casey were eager to dig into the delicious meal, the girls were more focused on the promise of Christmas decorating to come.

Samantha was the first to push her plate forward. “I’m done!” she announced with a broad grin.

“Done?” Tobias asked with a raised brow. “You barely touched your food, hon. You’ve gotta eat more than that.”

“Daddy’s right,” Brooke chimed in, clutching a dinner roll. “We need energy for decorating!”

Casey laughed softly, sharing an amused glance with Tobias. “We do need energy,” she agreed. “But there will be no decorating until after we have the pumpkin pie. That’s non-negotiable.”

Kayla sat tall in her high chair, clapping her hands. “Pie! Pie!” she giggled, pointing to the dessert on the counter.

“You can have pie, sweetie,” Casey promised. “As soon as you finish that turkey.”

Despite the older girl’s minds already being set on the tree, the meal was filled with tender moments, especially when they shared what they were most thankful for. Samantha had a long list prepared, covering everything from her family to her books and dolls. Brooke quickly added Mommy’s bedtime stories and Daddy’s pancakes as Tobias playfully whispered into his wife's ear, “Note, it’s not your food,” he laughed. Kayla’s contribution was a little less cohesive—“Cat! Turkey! Kiss-mas!” She yelled as Tobias grinned and told her that was a perfect list.

Decorating the Tree

The girls had barely cleared their plates before they asked their father to get the tree. Almost as eager as they were, he needed little prodding. He returned from the basement with plastic storage bins containing their decorations before Casey finished clearing the table. The girls squealed when he placed them next to the fireplace, where their stockings would soon hang.

Casey knelt beside one of the bins and pulled out their beloved angel tree topper, holding it up with a smile. “Remember this?” she asked Tobias, gently taking his hand. “We bought it our first Christmas together.”

“Before you had us?” Samantha asked, seemingly shocked that her parents had a life before she and her sisters entered it.

“Yep,” Tobias laughed. “Mommy and Daddy actually did things before you were all born, too, you know.”

“But I’m sure they weren’t as fun!” Brooke giggled as she pulled their stockings from another bin.

“Daddy, you have to start with the lights!” Samantha called out, already wrestling with a tangled string. Casey chuckled as Tobias groaned. She knew this was his least favorite part, but Samantha had already assigned the job to him.

The room quickly filled with laughter as holiday music played softly in the background. Brooke worked diligently on the lower branches while, with Tobias’s help, Samantha worked on the higher ones. Casey watched with a smile as she kept Kayla occupied, and they both kept Pietro away from the tree.

“Can we do the stockings next?” Brooke asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Tobias replied, then he helped Brooke hang them carefully along the mantle while Casey added the finishing touches to the tree.

With everything finally in place, they stepped back to admire their work - their faces aglow from the tree’s twinkling lights. It felt like magic. Tobias wrapped his arm around Casey, placing a kiss on her head. “This is perfection,” he whispered, and nearby, Kayla apparently agreed. “It’s Kiss-mas!” she yelled, bouncing up and down with delight.

The End of the Night

“What can we do next?” Samantha asked, hands on her hips.

Tobias exchanged a look with his exhausted wife. “I say we watch some Christmas movies,” he suggested, settling back into the couch.

“Can we have popcorn?” Brooke asked, though her tone left little room for negotiation.

“There’s no other way to do it,” Casey laughed, and as the girls piled onto the couch, Tobias joined her in the kitchen to make popcorn. With the quiet hum of the microwave filling the space, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Do I tell you how thankful I am for you often enough?” he asked, his voice low and filled with emotion.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You tell me quite often,” she replied. “Do I do the same for you?”

“Yes,” he smirked. “But feel free to lay it on me more often. My ego isn’t as big as you think.”

Casey’s laughter filled the room as she gently smacked his chest. “Oh, please. Your ego couldn’t possibly get any bigger.”

They glanced into the living room, where the girls were snuggled under a blanket. Samantha and Brooke already bickering over what to watch first, while Kayla, nestled between them, looked completely unphased by the commotion.

“Our lives have sure changed since our first Thanksgiving together,” Casey said, leaning into Tobias’s chest.

He nodded, his voice full of reverence. “You can say that again, and they just keep getting better.”

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple before they carried the popcorn into the living room.

Settling onto the couch, Tobias announced, “All right! It’s Kayla’s turn to pick!” The toddler squealed, pointing at the screen. “Kiss-mas show!”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Casey laughed.

“Don’t worry, girls,” Tobias assured. “We’ll watch all of our favorites tonight.”

A gentle snow began to fall outside as Rudolph appeared on the television screen. Snuggled under the blanket with their daughters on their laps, Tobias and Casey’s hearts couldn’t have been more full. They shared a quick kiss before they turned back to the TV, basking in the glow of their tree and the simple joy of being together.

It was the perfect Thanksgiving, after all.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

@choicesholidays New Traditions, Cuddling by the Fireplace @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 thankful, television, pies, happiness

Tagging others separately.

[beautyofaphrodite]

Venus Verticordia

As you may know, I’ve been making posts with deep dives into artistic depictions of Lady Aphrodite (or technically Lady Venus). I’ve already covered The Birth of Venus by Botticelli and Cabanel, Venus Victrix by Canova and Venus Anadyomene by Titian. Today’s artwork is Venus Verticordia by Rossetti.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Dante Gabriel Rossetti was an English poet, illustrator, painter, and translator born on May 12, 1828 in London and died April 9, 1882 in Kent. His work was characterised by its sensuality and its medieval revivalism and was a major precursor of the Aesthetic movement. He tended to create his artwork based off of his poetry.

Description of the Painting + Symbolism

Venus, depicted pale, with dark red hair is shown nude surrounded by roses and honeysuckles. She holds a golden apple (alluding to the judgement of Paris) and a gold-tipped arrow. She has a halo and is surrounded by yellow butterflies.

The roses and honeysuckle represent sexual passion, and the arrow is Venus’ son Cupid’s arrow, and the fact that it’s pointed towards her heart represents “uncontrollable desire”. While partially a reference to Eris’ Apple of Discord in the Judgement of Paris, the golden apple also symbolizes forbidden fruit in the story of Eve in the Garden of Eden, showing temptation. Venus is shown with a halo, which represents holiness and purity. The butterflies may represent Venus’ soul, her attendants, or the involvement of the soul as well as the body in love and desire.

Poem

This poem was written by Rossetti to accompany the painting.

“She hath the apple in her hand for thee,

Yet almost in her heart would hold it back;

She muses, with her eyes upon the track

Of that which in thy spirit they can see.

Haply, ‘Behold, he is at peace,’ saith she;

‘Alas! the apple for his lips,—the dart

That follows its brief sweetness to his heart,—

The wandering of his feet perpetually!’

A little space her glance is still and coy;

But if she give the fruit that works her spell,

Those eyes shall flame as for her Phrygian boy.

Then shall her bird's strained throat the woe foretell,

And her far seas moan as a single shell,

And through her dark grove strike the light of Troy.”

About the Painting

Venus Verticordia was commissioned by Patron John Mitchell of Bradford in 1863, and Rossetti worked on it from 1864 to 1868. The painting moved to the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery & Museum collection in 1945 where it is still displayed. The dimensions of this painting are 98.1 cm × 69.9 cm (38.6 in × 27.5 in).

Fun Facts

- The model for this painting was originally “a remarkably handsome cook whom he met in the street” but was later changed to resemble Alexa Wilding, one of his favorite muses.

- Verticordia means Changer of the Heart, referring to “Venus's ability to turn women's hearts towards virtue”

- During the time in which this was created, Flower Language was a big thing, and this is shown in the symbolism of the flowers surrounding Venus

- This is Rossetti’s only nude oil painting

I hope you learned something, I certainly did! As always, if there’s any artistic depictions of Lady Aphrodite or Lady Venus (whether painting, statue, etc) you particularly like or want me to cover, please let me know! Love y’all 🫶

[thescarletnargacuga]

War Wanderer

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT/POEM

A/N: inspired by Rudyard Kipling's "BOOTS" and the 28 years later trailer

WARNING: Post-Apocalyptic

A lone figure marches on in the vast silence of a dead, war torn world. Only the sound of his own boots against the cobblestone and the clicking of his mechanized body quietly echoes through the alleys of the smoldering City of Circuits.

Seven—six—eleven—five—nine an' twenty mile today—

Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before—

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!

There's no discharge in the war!

Bodies. So many bodies. The carrion of men, innocent or otherwise, rotted the streets. Scavenging birds feast.

Puppet pieces scattered like scrap left to rust. D.I.E's removed and destroyed.

Don't—don't—don't—don't—look at what's in front of you.

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again;

Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin' em,

There's no discharge in the war!

He could still hear them. The souls of the damned.

Crying. Screaming. Begging.

Those lost to the lies they were sold.

Liberation.

This was supposed to be... liberation.

If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o' you!

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again—

There's no discharge in the war!

All that was left were the mechanical monsters. The vengeful legacy of the ruling class.

Man. Puppets. It didn't matter. All were made low by screaming metal.

Great beasts designed in the service of death.

Try—try—try—try—to think o' something different—

Oh—my—God—keep—me from goin' lunatic!

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!

There's no discharge in the war!

He wished to be free.

He wished to punish those who wronged him.

He wished for revolution.

He wished for her return.

Seven—six—eleven—five- four—seventeen—thirty-two the day before—

Be careful what you wish for, Puppetmaster.

[the-one-who-lambs]

"Propose," for @bamsara

HI YOUR DOODLES INSPIRED ME HERE'S A POETRY ATTACK. rambling below the cut.

At first, the death waltz is a misstep.

A sickening skeletal crack, a shape of an invisible scythe.

Sincerity is too kind a lie, but His sacrosanct

Protection (you think)

Lets you rise once more.

Death cannot keep you, but you would let Him

If he welcomes you.

You only believe what He thinks you should know.

The flames engulf you after the smoke does,

But your soul has nearly shed its corpse when you see them.

You stand in the vast chain-bound sanctuary and breathe

Fully (your lungs don’t remember being choked).

It is the first of a fitful of

Scorn and surprises and bone fingertips pressed against your skin.

He helps you to your feet.

Your heart should not beat here. In the infiniteness of your bosom it awakens.

The very semblance of the jagged-bare flesh

Encircling your neck is an intimacy in itself.

The blissful torment of the swordsman’s blade

Releases (so close to peril)

And He is already in your periphery.

Call it duty. Call it love.

Choose it as the last decision you’ll ever make.

Fate’s a tarot pull. You draw your card with eyes sealed shut.

You are a disgraced, depraved approximation of a person.

The chill of his embrace is warmer than the hands

That build the bonfire. It is in the name of

Someone (you shan’t say who)

And in the ashes of your grief your reflection

Stares back with three eyes.

The temptation to burn yourself seeps out,

Ichor-like. You don’t die tonight, not yet.

A careful drip of poison. The aftertaste of iron

In your mouth: communion seeping into your own goblet.

A moonshine moment of annihilation, however brief

Before (infectious, echoing, comforting)

You bleed out. You hope you die today.

He hopes you die today. It’s an

Ambrosial veil between you.

You slip beneath it with a sweet hello.

It’s never quite intentional until

The myths surrounding Him fall away.

The secrets you keep are shared, kept safe

Until (your reunion, this time, was not quite an accident)

They are intertwined: you are inescapably

Lonely and in your separate spheres

You vie for dominance. It’s a furious, bloodsoaked rendezvous.

It was always He who waited, but you’ll be patient.

He feels you in every dream. You

Stop time with your voices.

It’s His frustration melting away

With your kisses (you’re not there yet)

And makes Him yours, in freedom,

Dependent on nothing nobody you himself

The fetters are invisible but you hear them

Rattling every time your heart beats.

Your breath need not return anymore so you

Relearn to dodge the aim of an arrow, the pierce of a blade.

Living is foul, a promise half-hidden,

Desperate. (It lingers on your tongue.)

Death bound you together. You know how to die.

You have to remind yourself that heaven lays barren.

It will not hold you

Should Death keep you apart.

Get appreciated idiot /pos /lh

So, this was inspired by this post, which was super wholesome and sweet, but I couldn't write this without infusing it with the urgency and anxiety and sense of danger that looms over The Rehabilitation of Death. Bits and pieces of references to your AU are sprinkled in throughout. I hope you (and my readers and your readers as well) enjoy picking apart the themes here!

I actually wrote this live on stream last night! I made sure none of my friends were streaming before I started because I didn't want to miss anyone if someone was already live, but then you started streaming like 10 minutes later and I was like FUCK now I wanna watch you. But after a couple of hours on my new extra-hard CotL save (OUCH), I switched to writing and just... hoped you wouldn't pop in because I wanted this to be a surprise. For most of the writing part of the stream this poem was titled "IF SARA STOPS STREAMING SEND ME A WARNING."

Anyway, we don't usually get to talk more than a couple times per week because we both have Shit To Do, but you are SO FUN to be around and I am so so glad I met you!! Your friendship is a blessing and your creativity is a gift.

Also posted to AO3 as onethirdofimpossible here!