#I think I started writing it in… December or something? perhaps??

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

rain, blood, rivulets, runner, daughter, home, you

Regardless, Wilbur likes to come here a lot. It’s a pretty place, a few minutes walk from Pogtopia; it’s right in the wilderness, no buildings or houses or people around. Just grass, and dirt, and a few tiny flowers, and a lot of trees, and a big blue sky. Well, sometimes blue. Sometimes it’s kinda grey, and cloudy, and other times it cries small cold raindrops that splat into your eyes and make your clothes all damp and uncomfortable.

Wilbur doesn’t care if he gets wet, though. He’ll just come here anyway.

~~~

After several seconds of trying, Wilbur gives up, relaxing once more into this odd state of being. He realizes that his cheek hurts along with his neck, because his face is pressed firmly against this thing. It's probably stopping the blood flow right there.

AND!!!

For a moment, Wilbur's vision goes dark, and it takes several rasping breaths and hard blinks to rid it of black spots. Tommy is bleeding. There's blood on him. His eyes are closed. He's bleeding. He's completely still. He's bleeding. His eyes are closed. He's not moving. There's blood on him. There's blood on Tommy.

~~~

Nothing for rivulets!

~~~

Nothing for runner, either!

~~~

Dang. Nothing for daughter :0

~~~

After a few hours, Niki had stepped back, placed her hands on her hips, and looked around. She quite liked the place, if she was being perfectly honest. It felt cozy, similar to a home. It didn't feel like a company or an enterprise, devoid of emotion. No, it felt real. It felt personal. It felt like hers.

~~~

"You're so dramatic," Phil chokes out, chuckling.

AND!!!

"I'm fine," Wilbur assures, brushing off the hand that Phil didn't even realize had moved towards his son's chest. "I can stand on my own, Phil. You don't have to hold my hand."

~~~

Actually I’m gonna share a whole snippet from a story I genuinely forgot I’d started working on so aksvajdgsksgsh here ya go ⬇️

~~~

"Oh, mate... do you need water?" Phil glances at the table, finding a half-full glass of water just as Wilbur answers, "No."

"Are you hungry?"

Wilbur sighs again. "No. I just- Phil?"

"Yes?" Phil finds himself holding his breath.

Wilbur gazes at him for several seconds, and Phil notes with satisfaction that his eyes are no longer pink. His pupils are the usual rich-brown color that they aught to be.

Wilbur gives a slight shake of his head. "I want to go."

Phil stares. "You- go?"

"I want to get off of this couch. I want to get out of this cabin. I want to go, Phil. I want to-" Wilbur thrusts a hand forward, face twisting. "I want to go far away from this cursed land of snow, and never come back. I want to go outside."

Wilbur ends his rage-filled monologue, staring at his hands laid across his chest. His nostrils flare.

Phil watches him for a moment before dipping his head, beginning to shake with laughter.

Wilbur whips his head around to glare at him. "What?"

"You're so dramatic," Phil chokes out, chuckling.

"Wha- I've been confined in this place for weeks!"

"It's been four days, Wil."

Wilbur's eyes widen. Phil laughs harder.

"Only... only four days?" Wilbur questions, and Phil's laughter starts to subside when he hears how uncertain Wilbur sounds. "It hasn't even been a week? Only four days?"

"Yep." Phil nods. "A fever can really mess with your perception of time, can't it?"

Wilbur nods, at a loss for words. He stares back at his hands.

Phil chews on his lip. "You're feeling better, though. Right?"

"I guess."

Phil reaches forward, resting his palm on Wilbur's head. His son goes very still.

"You don't have a fever anymore. Still a little warm, but you're definitely getting better," Phil says, pulling his hand away. Wilbur relaxes instantly.

Phil feels a stab in his heart.

"Feeling- you said I'm better, right? So I can leave?"

"No."

Wilbur lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine. "But I'm better! You said so yourself, Phil! I'm doing better, see? Look, I can... I can stay at Tommy's, and he can keep on eye on me! Right?"

"No," Phil repeats, a small smile appearing on his face. "I'm not letting you leave until you've made a full recovery, Wilbur."

"But you said-"

"I said you're getting better. I never said that you were better. You still have a ways to go, mate."

Wilbur groans, letting his head fall onto his pillow in dramatic fashion. He squeezes his eyes shut. "I don't think I can survive like this much longer."

Phil chuckles, but his brow furrows with concern. "You're not going to be like this much longer. A week, at most."

"A week?" Wilbur's eyes snap open, and he cranes his head around to stare at Phil. "No. You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

Phil opens and closes his mouth. "I mean... I'm not. You had a really bad infection, mate. You can't just heal from that overnight."

Wilbur stares for a couple seconds longer before laying his head back on his pillow, gazing up at the ceiling. He looks haunted—no. He looks scared.

Phil sighs. "It'll be okay, Wil. You'll get through this. Alright? Just trust me on that. You'll be fine."

Wilbur tries to hide it, but Phil can see how his breathing picks up; how his chest rises and falls with increasing speed; how his nostrils flare; how his eyebrows knit together in quick, barely perceptible movements.

Wilbur's starting to panic. And Phil doesn't know why. It's not like he's being held hostage or anything; he's just on bedrest. Nothing more. He's not trapped. He's not stuck. He's not-

Oh.

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’,

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

──────────────────

December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

──────────────────

To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

──────────────────

The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

[moosesarecute]

December 8th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel’s letters to Y/N:

Cassian spilled soup all over the floor yesterday. That’s nothing unusual, but it was all over a new carpet Feyre just bought. Feyre was about to become very angry when Nyx started laughing louder than ever before. Cassian is now Nyx’s favourite person.

I’m convinced that if Nyx knew you, you would outrank Cassian very quickly. I don’t know how much he knows about his auntie Y/N, but I know you would be the best aunt he could ever wish for.

“I suggest we take a few steps back, just to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen again,” Jo spoke.

Madja and Jonathan had spoken, and they thought that perhaps the therapy was moved forward too quickly and that his heart had a breakdown because of it.

Jo had his eyebrows raised and a little tilt to his head. The usual signs that he wanted Azriel to respond, but he didn’t.

He hadn’t spoken since he told Cassian that he was okay the day before. He felt a little childish, but not speaking made him feel lighter. He didn’t have to rethink every sentence before he said it. It felt nice.

“Let’s do something fun instead. Why don’t we draw something? Or write a letter for Mr. Claus?”

It was now Azriel’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Mr. Claus? Who was that? Jonathan luckily picked up on his unspoken question.

“As you know, the mortals used to live by many different religions. One of them had saints. Saints grew up as normal humans, but they lived and often also died for their religion and a miracle would happen after their deaths. One of them, Saint Nicholas, was known for giving his money to the poor and therefore humans started to think of him as a Saint that came with gifts. Human kids started writing letters to him and hoped that they would get what they wished for Christmas. Christmas Eve was at 24th of December, so only three days after Winter Solstice. It is said that when the mortals’ religions disappeared, Saint Nicholas moved to the Winter Court under the name Mr. Claus.”

 Azriel thought his therapist had gone mad. He was an adult male, both were, he was not going to write a letter to a non-existing gift-giver and ask for something for Winter Solstice.

“It was only a suggestion, you don’t have to look at me like I’m mad,” Jonathan said. “Even though I am a little mad.”

“Have you written to him before?” Azriel asked. He surprised himself by speaking, but he wanted to make sure Jonathan knew how absurd what he was speaking about was.

Jonathan nodded as an answer.

“I have written to him for as long as I have known about him.”

“Have you gotten what you wished for?”

Jonathan only shook his head.

“Both of us know that what I wish for is impossible to get back.” Azriel suddenly realized what he was talking about. His mate. He had wished for his mate back. “However, every Winter Solstice there is placed a red rose on Elvin’s grave. I like to think that is Mr. Claus letting me know that he had heard me.”

Azriel almost rolled his eyes. Not at Jonathan, not at all. The story was nice to hear, almost made him emotional. It made him roll his eyes at himself.

Why should he care if this Mr. Claus was real or not? It was Jonathan’s Winter Solstice tradition, and he wanted to share it. He would be a got friend and do his best.

“Do you have any paper?”

Annette woke up feeling drowsy. She blinked a few times, but her head was pounding from the light in her room. But the shivering was almost gone, and her lungs finally got enough air.

She heard quiet voices. It seemed like they were arguing.

“You can’t give her this much,” Bru whispered angry.

“She needs it daily now; I thought that if we gave more at once might need to take it less often,” Cathrine argued back.

“Are you forgetting what we are doing? What we are giving her? It’s not something to play with. We should up the dosage only a little bit every other week, that’s what the potion-master said.”

Cathrine had given her too much medicine. That’s why she was feeling so bad. It made sense. Cathrine always wanted what was best for her, and giving more medicine should in most cases be better.

Annette let out a groan as she sat up. Both Cathrine and Bru soon surrounded her. They asked how she was feeling.

“Cold, tired,” she answered. She felt too drowsy to speak full sentences.

“Let me help you into these blankets,” Cathrine said.

She moved firstly the fur so that it was tighter wrapped around her, and then she picked up one of the blankets.

However, as she was picking up the third blanket, she leaned over Annette in a way that made her wing bend in a wrong direction.

She almost yelled out in pain and rushed to push Cathrine away. Moving as quickly as possible, Annette freed her wing and stretched it out.

It was unharmed. Luckily.

“It seems like worry for wings is a thing they get from birth,” Bru commented slyly to Cathrine. It seemed like something he didn’t want Annette to hear, but at the same time he didn’t speak quietly.

Cathrine moved slower this time around and eventually got Annette covered in all three blankets. Annette felt herself trying to move away from Cathrine. Suddenly everything felt unsafe.

“I’ll get you some stew, sweatheart.”

As Cathrine left, Annette started to think.

If they had taken care of her since she was a child, then why didn’t they know how careful she was around her wings? It was probably some sort of mistake, but Annette felt herself needing so know that it was safe.

“Bru? Can you explain exactly what happened last time. Just one more time?”

Annette asked them this often. And every time, her family became slightly more annoyed.

“You went out into the woods as usual, but then night arrived, and you didn’t come home. We got worried and started to look for you. When we found you, you were out cold and when you woke you didn’t remember any of us. You haven’t remembered anything from the time before the accident and your heart have been weak ever since.”

When Annette realized it, she almost stopped breathing. She tried to act as if it was nothing as Cathrine came with her stew and both Cathrine and Bru left the room.

She looked around. Her room was small, but it was decorated with crochet and painting she allegedly had made. And a stuffed toad she had played with as a child. Other than that, nothing screamed that she had lived there for over two hundred years. Two hundred and fifty-four. She was two hundred and fifty-four and she could only remember almost three of those years.

Because, she hadn’t been there for two hundred and fifty-four years. She was curtain about that now.

Cathrine had told her that they had tried different medicine for her, but that it was before she had lost her memory. However, Bru had just told her that her heart got weak first after the accident.

Also, if she had lived with them for over two centuries, how could they still not know that her wings were sensitive? And as she had been outside. In the beautiful, refreshing and calming nature, all her instincts had been to not go back.

She knew now, she had to leave. And that rather quickly.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn @mich0731 @tele86 @mellowmusings @anarchiii

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by @issysh3ll

[societyfolklore]

Quite Escape

December Daze Writing Challenge - Cabin-core!

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Summary: Tired of the constant noise, drama, and surveillance at the Avengers Compound, Loki and you decide to sneak away for a much-needed holiday retreat. Their destination? A hidden cabin.

Word Count:  2k (ish)

Warnings: / Warnings // Explicit Content // 18+, Minors DNI, smut, Fluff , fingering, Unprotected sex, praises kink. Not Beta read.

A/N: First fic! Woo! (my first entry for @the-slumberparty december daze challenge too)

The compound was never quiet. Even on the rare occasion when the team wasn’t actively fighting off a galactic threat or managing interdimensional chaos, the constant buzz of voices, clattering of tools, and Tony’s penchant for blasting Christmas carols at full volume filled every corner. It was starting to get the best of you.

As you leant against the kitchen counter, watching the snow drift lazily outside the window. It was beautiful, serene—a stark contrast to the chaos behind you. Thor’s laughter boomed from the living room as he and Clint argued over some game, while Tony’s voice carried through the halls, complaining about his latest invention malfunctioning. No matter how hard you tried to enjoy your cup of warm coffee nothing seemed to work.

“Do they ever stop?” you muttered under your breath pinching the bridge of your nose. You just wanted to enjoy the moment.

“Mear moments, think I’d do anything before coming to see you. Think I prefer you insufferable colleagues?” he replied with a faint smirk. “Though it seems I’ve chosen my moment poorly. Even this sanctuary isn’t immune to their noise.”

“Unlikely,” a smooth voice purred from behind you, arms coming around to wrap around your waist, his mouth planting soft kiss into your neck.

“When did you get back?” Turning in his arms. He looked like he belonged in a painting, with his raven hair framing his sharp features and his green eyes glittering like the northern lights. A warm smile spreading onto your face.

“No kidding,” you muttered, gesturing toward the living room. “I just wanted one quiet holiday. Is that too much to ask?”

Loki tilted his head, his gaze narrowing thoughtfully. “Perhaps not.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Pack a bag, darling. We’re leaving.”

“What?” you asked, startled. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere… quieter,” he said cryptically. “Unless, of course, you prefer staying here with the Asgardian jester I have for a brother and his band of merry fools?”

“When you put it that way,” you said putting down your mug on the counter “how could I refuse?”

*~*~*~*~*

Loki’s ‘somewhere quieter’ turned out to be a snow-covered cabin nestled deep in a Norwegian forest. The journey had been seamless, thanks to his magic. One moment, you were standing outside the compound; the next, you were surrounded by towering pine trees, their branches heavy with snow.

“You conjured this?” you asked, marvelling at the cozy cabin. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and warm golden light spilled from the windows, illuminating the pristine snow.

“Actually, no. Surprisingly didn’t have to do any magic for this one, just stole one of Stark money cards.” Loki sly smile spread across his face.

Inside, the cabin was even more enchanting. A roaring fire crackled in the stone hearth, and the scent of cedar and cinnamon filled the air. Thick rugs covered the wooden floors, and a plush sofa sat invitingly near the fireplace. Loki had actually out done himself, the fact this had all been done with out magic by ‘mortal means’ made it all seem that little nicer.

“This is amazing,” you breathed, shedding your coat and taking it all in.

“Something like that..” You let out a long sigh looking over at him before you found Loki’s lip crashing into you with a hunger he’d been keeping at bay until now his hand went back to cup the side of your face his tongue sliding against yours as you allowed it entry as the kiss deepened as growl coming up from his chest as he pulled you into his lap, hand going under the soft sweater you wore. “Gods I missed you..”

Loki shrugged as though it were nothing. “I’m glad you approve.”

Excited hands squeezed his arms, the decorations, the fire, even the smell of the place at a feel swelling in your chest that made your feel like you were living out some for of dream. Like stepping into a holiday movie and very soon your arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Oh, I definitely approve.”

“I aim to impress, darling,” he said, smirking running a hand across your cheek, his blue eyes staring down into your with that same intensity that made heat floor your cheeks no matter the situation. No one looked at you like that. “Now, you sit in front of the fire. I’ll get us something to drink, alright?” His thumb running over your bottom lip before pulling away leaving you a little breathless and only able to nod, picking up your bag and heading to the bedroom.

Sitting down on the couch you started to relax when Loki returned with two glasses of wine handing you a glass and putting his own down going to put your bag away, letting your relax and take in the cabins Christmas décor, the green garlands, the tree by the large windows, the lights twinkling, but mostly the enjoyable silence that only the crackle of the fire that filled up the place,  When Loki came and sat back next to you it was almost a startle shock.

“Loki…”

“Gave you a scare there?”  his hand taking the wine glass from you putting it on the coffee table, pulling you closer on the couch. “Too use to all that noise back at that ‘madhouse’..”

“Missed you too.”

“Been too long love..”

He was kissing her again quickly pulling your sweater from you so he you get hands onto your skin the fire casting a lovely glow across pale skin as Loki mouth moved to your neck making her squirm on his lap her skirt riding up as his hand went to her thigh sliding up smooth skin, before his warms wrapped around you dragging you down to the rug in front of the fire, his hand making short work of the rest of your clothes as he ground himself up against her.

His mouth tasting along collarbone like he couldn’t get enough of the way your skin tasted on his tongue.

“Loki.”

The needy whine in your voice would of made you embarrassed if it have happened around anyone else, not Loki though, it only made him smirk against your skin as he kept kissing. Your hands started pulling at his shirt, the tremble in your hands as heat pooled in your stomach as you undid buttons the raven hair god pulling away sitting up to pull his shirt off his shoulders looking down you.

“So beautiful..”

"Such a good girl, responding so well to my touch"  He drew fingers along the wetness that had gathered along your folds. “Already so eager.”

His hand pushed your legs apart kneeling between them his hand running down  your body stopong briefly to cup and squeeze at your breast before drawing lazy figners down your stomach. Your breathing getting tighter in your chest as need built. “So needy..”  

Loki drew his hands down his loves figure, you breath grew increasingly filled with want. With each small touch creating small explosions on your delicate skin. The once cool undertone of your was now more reddish, heat building in your blood. He watch as your eyes gazed up at him with desire. His eyes only seemed to shift as he watched the beautiful girl squirm with his firm touch between her legs.

“Loki I-“ you were cut off as he pushed two long fingers up inside into you “Auh!” Slick walls closing down tight at the invasions. The world stopped.

“So tight..” He curved his fingers.

“Oh god..”  the sensation of his fingers pressing up against the spot along your front wall has you bending upward on the rug pushing slightly into his hand.

“nghm” you whimpered before moaning as his thumb started moving in slow circles on your clit.

“That’s it darling, those are the noises we like isn’t it?” His voice purred triumphant.

“That’s in darling, been a while.” Loki started to scissor his fingers pushing your wet wall open for him. “Mmm? Make sure you’re all nice a ready do we?” the sensation made you ache grabbing at the rug as your hips rolled into him hand, breathing hard as he watched your come part on the floor, that same hungry look on his face.

“Such a good girl, always giving me every perfect little noise from that pretty mouth of yours..” He crawled up over you his body pressing down as his hands hooked around your thighs, while you pushed hiair away from your face.

“Breathe darling.” He leant forwards pressing kisses into your throat, his teeth grazing over your exposed throat as his fingers pulled in and out of you at the steady maddening pace. It took everything in you to remember to breath as the sensation built the knot in your centre. Your walls fluttering and closing down on his fingers sending pleasure into your blood each time. “That’s it, let it happen..let me see you cum.”

The knot snapped and like a wave of heat spilt out over your skin as you panted through the bliss bought on from his figner Loki still moving them drawing out the sensation until your back settled back on the rug and he pulled them from you, his hands going to his own pants pulling them down freeing himself.

“I.. Loki, I need.”

“Oh we’re not done yet Presious.” He didn’t give you time to recover before you felt him pressing against your entrance, “Not when I’ve waited so long, and she needs her King..” He pressed in, the stretch of him causing a slight sting as he pushed you back open again, a long moan coming up from your throat.

“Loki..”

“I know what you need.” More of him pushing deeper, his hands pushing your thigh up giving him a better angle, you were helpless against him on able to let him take what he wanted from you. The feel of him filling your overwhelming. “You were made for this, made for me were you Darling.” He moaned into your ear, “say it darling..”

“I- made for you.” You got out as he finally fully sheathed himself in your wet heath, the act drawing deep moans from both of her, Loki’s hand running through your hair as your went down his back and arms. “God, I missed this..”

“So have I.” He slowly started to move, taking his time. Drawing his hips back in long fluid motions ensure you felt each inch, keeping himself pressed up into places that made you cry out his name. He pulled back to watch you arch and moan under him on the floor the glow of the fire making this all the more perfect for him. “Yes, darling. Just like that. Moan for me, let me hear you.” Your hopes rolling into him as his met yours.

“Made for me, such a perfect girl for her King.” He ground his own eyes shutting for a moment to control his own desire building as he felt your walls tighten and squeeze him. “So warm, so tight.”

“Loki please.”  You whimpered again hardly able to breath let alone think enough to form a real sentence.

 “mgnh..” Your whined not quiet able to speak yet. “I’ll try” It was still hard to breath “to be more mindful.” You got out as Loki groaned into your shoulder the fire cracking.

“Close already darling? Miss me that much?” He picked up the pace moving harder above you grunting as he pushed himself deeper, thrusting with the same need you had for him. “Oh pet, Norms yes, like that. Oh yes darling.”

“Loki,I mmmgh.”  You got louder  he moved harder, fingers sinking into his back as the knot formed larger and tighter and he moved inside you. “Loki, I god Fuck… FUCK!”  the sensation of being filled by him ached and made it hard to breath and before the world shattered under you. Your legs shaking as your climax pulled you apart. Your core clamping down on him like a vice in hot sharp spasms making your pant and moan. “Erugh!”

“GODS!”  

The sensation of you closing around him like you did had Loki coming apart, grunting and moaning into your ear as he thrusted sloppy ruts through his own climax as he spilt into you groaning. “Gods, darling..” He panted resting on his elbows his forehead pressed into your shoulder while you tried to catch your own breath “you’ll kill a man doing that..”  

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 2

Understanding Yourself Starts With Being Honest

Hi Goddesses! Yesterday we talked about what becoming our best selves means, and today we're diving into something really important, meeting ourselves exactly where we are.

Picture yourself packing for a journey. You'd check what you already have in your suitcase before deciding what else you need, right? That's exactly what we're doing today on our path to 2025, taking a inventory of where we are right now.

I know, I know. Self-assessment can feel a bit intimidating. Maybe you're worried about facing some truths, or perhaps you think it might be discouraging. But think of it as like turning on the GPS before starting a journey. You need to know your starting point to get where you want to go.

First things first: breathe. This isn't about judgment. Think of it as having coffee with your most supportive friend (that's me!) who just wants to help you reflect and grow. Ready? Let’s start.

Start With Your Gut

Remember when you wake up in the morning and have that first quiet moment to yourself? That's when our gut feelings are often the clearest. Take a moment right now. How do you feel about where you are in life? Not what others think, not what social media says you should be doing, just your honest feelings. Grab a notebook (or open your Notes app) and write down whatever comes to mind. No filtering, no judging.

The Life Wheel Check-In

Here's something I find super helpful: imagine your life as a wheel with different spokes. Think about these areas:

Your physical health and energy levels

Your relationships (family, friends, romantic)

Your work or studies

Your personal growth and learning

Your fun and recreation time

Your living space and environment

Your financial situation

Your emotional wellbeing

For each one, ask yourself: "On a scale where 10 is 'couldn't be better' and 1 is 'needs serious attention,' where am I?" Be real with yourself, this is just between us.

The "What's Working" List

Here's something we often skip: celebrating what's already good! Before diving into what you want to change, write down what's working well in your life. Maybe you're great at maintaining friendships, or you've been consistent with your morning routine, or you finally learned how to cook that one dish you love. These wins, big or small, are your foundation for growth.

The Honest Reality Check

Now comes the part that requires some courage: looking at areas where you feel stuck or unsatisfied. But here's the twist, we're going to do this with compassion. Instead of thinking "What's wrong with me?" ask yourself:

What's challenging me right now?

What keeps coming up in my thoughts as something I wish were different?

Where do I feel like I'm not living up to my own standards (not anyone else's)?

Your Future Self Letter

This is one of my favorite exercises: Write a letter from your future self (let's say December 2024) to your current self. What would they thank you for starting now? What changes would they be grateful you made? This isn't about pressure, it's about connecting with your hopes and dreams.

Getting Real with Yourself

Now, let's make this assessment more practical. Pick just three things:

One thing you want to maintain (because it's working well)

One thing you want to improve gradually

One thing you want to change significantly

Write these down somewhere you'll see them daily. Your phone wallpaper, a sticky note on your mirror, wherever works for you.

Remember This, you're not broken and you don't need fixing. You're a human being on a journey of growth, just like all of us. This self-assessment isn't about finding faults, it's about understanding where you are so you can move forward with purpose.

Take a moment to appreciate yourself for doing this work. Seriously. Self-reflection takes courage, and you're already showing up for yourself by reading this and (hopefully) doing these exercises.

Stay tuned for the next post in our "Become Your Best Version Before 2025" series! Remember, you've got this!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[anemoiashifts]

december shifting pick an object reading !

hello ! happy almost christmas to those who celebrate i thought id continue with a general shifting reading & maybe some messages from people in your desired reality. i thought last months reading was a little to general for my liking, so i will be trying to add as much detail / specifics as i can to solidify the feeling that this is made for you.

as always please please don’t force messages to resonate. i do these on the first of every months so they’ll be many more chances to feel connected to a reading if these ones don’t do it for you :) !

bunny ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🐇 !

signs : pineapples, snoopy, stained clothing, missing buttons, mars, tree stumps.

you are currently going through some sort of “seasonal depression; some sort of funk. as of recent, you’ve been comparing yourself to your peers. seeing how much they can do & are capable of, it makes your (feelings of) lack amplify & hurt even more. maybe you have some sort of codependent relationship or always feel the need to confide in others approval before a task is complete ? this month you’ll find the motivation to learn new skills & plant the seeds that are needed to trust yourself.

this boils over into your outlook on shifting. people seem to fall into boxes of where they want to shift, have methods that have worked for them, have made a decision in what they’d like to experience in their desired reality. it’s not that you lack a direction, you may know where you’d like to shift. more so an indecisiveness on what you actually want. you want to shift yes, but when you really think on it, you’ve become comfortable where you are. you could struggle to see yourself shifting at all as you are a more analytical person. your someone who is very fact based, you could enjoy doing research & weighing all options before making a decision. things need to make perfect sense to you before you believe in them. this mindset only feeds into what ive mentioned above & could circle back to your feelings of being directionless. the main thing you need is clarity for your manifestations & desires.

this person is someone who is very likely defensive of & true to their beliefs; someone stubborn. birds or turtles may be relevant to them. what this person wants to remind you is consistency is key. you may jump from one project to another without finishing the last; which leaves you as someone who knows a lot of different skills / has aloe of hobbies. you don’t have to be perfect to start something & continue with it. very few people do things the first time & it comes out just how you imaged it. focus on the quality of information rather then the quantity. take this month to create a vision board of some sort. write down what you’d like to accomplish by the end of the upcoming year.

otter ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🦦 !

signs : greek lettering, pink slippers, butterfly earrings, long black wrap coats.

in your head, you have “unfinished business” to attend to. so, shifting has been kept on hold for a very long time — years for some of you. it’s always “ill try and shift after i finish my work” or “ill shift when i improve my sleep schedule”. while it’s good to have goals, you’re allowed to work on multiple things at once as long as you balance the two. take this time to reevaluate your priorities & consider what is helping or hurting you. are you really putting off shifting because your room isn’t clean and you have done laundry yet and you have a research paper ? or are you simply not in the mood for it as your mind has wandered else where. do you desire to go to a reality that you have built up in your head or have you grown out of it & would rather fall in love with another desired reality ?

there could also be some sort of desire not to shift at the moment. perhaps you like the holidays & you’re excited for them ? you’re in a stable place right now & shifting is something you fall back onto in times of distress ? however you look at shifting & where you want the future of your relationship to be with the practice later down the line, take time to nurture that vision for yourself.

this person could be someone from your family in your desired reality or a person you would consider family, even if not by blood. this person is a little bit of a player & like you, has moments of lack of direction. while this person can be hotheaded, it’s a good reminder to slow down before lashing out on others. your insecurity doesn’t grant you the right to think negatively of other people. through these moments, this person notices that you struggle to see clearly & your tendency to obsess over small things. focus on the bigger picture.

deer ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🦌 !

signs : 88 or 888, farmers markets, lillie’s, historical landmarks, purple lip gloss.

you’re not the kinda person people look at & think that you haven’t been through a lot. on the outside, you look fine. you’ve been very lucky in a lot of ways & you’re able to hold everything together really well.

often a front for something being repressed, you often have an “i don’t care” attitude or come off as really easy to be around & agreeable. you’re someone who doesn’t quite know yourself entirely. while, you recognize you’re a kind person & a good friend, you struggle with a fear of judgement & being ostracized from certain groups if they “knew the truth”. you could’ve or used to have some unconventional hobbies or are into certain subcultures that aren’t the norm.

your desired reality could be a wanted but a shamed one by nobody other then yourself. you have a love of the place of where you’d like to shift but the shame of admitting to yourself that you do consider yourself a shifter, can be a hard to accept. you’re probable someone who lives in constant fear of being “outed” as a one. you’ve gone through the ritual of blocking everyone you know in your personal life & making a mental note of not keeping physical scripts laying around. maybe shifting as a while feels a little elementary to you. even if it isn’t the practice, it could be the places you’d like to shift itself that allow these thoughts to conjure up inside your head. if you are able to work on quieting that noise of shame & insecurity, you will soon have your desired fulfilled. — as I was typing & the time 11:11 appeared on my desktop if that number means anything to you.

the main thing somebody from your desired reality wants you to know is to listen to your dreams. your dreams are apart of your subconscious & your subconscious holds the key to how you operate. if your circadian rhythm is off, take this as a sign to start to get it back on track. i really couldn’t get a read on who this person was, so i assume whoever your thinking of is this person or they prefer to remain anonymous.

thank you for reading. i hope something was able to resonate with you ! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Soothing Lullaby

|| Mel Medarda x fem!reader

|| Warnings; slight season two spoilers about Mel, injured reader, blood mentions, Mel takes care of reader, brief mentions of death but nobody dies, you decide why reader was in Zaun, short drabble

|| Summary; when reader returns from a trip down to Zaun with an injury, Mel helps her out.

Requests closed!

Started; December 15th

Finished; December 15th

HurtCember2024; Day 11, Caretaking

Author Note; firstly, sorry about how long all my fics have been taking me. I haven't had a writing mindset and I wanted the fics to be good so I haven't been writing. Secondly, thank you for 900 followers!! Love all of you 🫶 I wonder if we can hit 1,000 before the new year?

Also; don't know if Mel's magic can heal, but for the sake of this fic yes she can lmao

~~~

It was late afternoon when you'd stumbled into Mel's room after having gone down to Zaun. Looking for something. Mel, of course, hadn't been aware of your little adventure. So, when she saw you her eyes widened with worry.

"Y/N? What happened to you?" Mel forgot all about the clothes she was previously looking through. There was a party tonight; Mel was looking for an outfit to wear. But now, she was looking at you. More specifically the wound that traveled up your leg. It cut through the fabric of your pants. Stretching from the start of your heel, just above the edge of your shoe line, and twisted up to behind your knee cap. Blood dripping down from the deeper parts of the cut.

"Um... ran into a Zaunite," you explained. Tone a bit sheepish. Mel's eyes narrowed in confusion. A Zaunite? Why were you in Zaun? Or had the Zaunite come to the surface? Her mind buzzed with a million questions. Questions that she would ask once she's helped you.

Mel knelt down, taking your leg into her hands. With her magic, caretaking was a pretty easy thing for her to do. You winced as your leg was moved and Mel looked into your eyes. Her gaze soft, full of nothing but worry and sympathy for you," shh. You're okay," her voice feels like a soothing lullaby. One that makes your shoulders ease the moment it reaches your ears. You gave her a nod.

Her fingers danced along your injury. A light golden glow seeping through the tips of her fingers and into the wound. Closing it with a golden shimmer that marked the line of where it once was. The pain had left you the moment her fingers touched you. Feeling a sense of ease. You had to admit, Mel's magic was a handy little trick. It's helped you lots before.

"Better?" Mel asked, gently letting go of your leg. Allowing you to rest your foot to the floor again. You have your leg a little shake, testing if there was any lingering pain. A smile crossed your lips when there wasn't any.

"Yep! Thank you, Mel," you thanked her. She stood, hands gently caressing your cheeks while she looked into your eyes. Your own eyes locked with hers, those absolutely stunning eyes... you could stare into them all day without getting bored. They were just memorizing.

"You truly need to be more careful. What ever will I do with you, hm?" Mel met your smile with her own. She loved you, but you were always getting yourself into trouble that she had to drag you out of. Honestly you'd probably be dead if not for her. She didn't mind, though. You and your shenanigans were just free entertainment for her.

"Maybe kiss me?" You suggested shamelessly, earning yourself a laugh from your girlfriend.

"Is that all you want? Well, I think we can make that happen," her lips latched to yours. Dancing in soft rhythms. Your arms wrapped around Mel's neck loosely. Bringing her in closer to you.

The kiss lasted as long as it could before Mel's focus was back to your leg, frowning again at the blood that still lingered," let's get you into the shower." You weren't about to argue with that. Perhaps you could convince her to join.

[rustbeltjessie]

I haven’t made a pinned post in a while, but since it’s my birthday month and I’m struggling right now, I figured it’s a good time to make one.

First, let me introduce myself. I’m Jessie Lynn McMains, aka Rust Belt Jessie. I’m a writer (poetry and prose), artist, zine-maker, spoken word performer, occasional musician, small press publisher, and general jack of several creative trades. I’m queer—bi/mspec and nonbinary (I use they/them, she/her, and he/him pronouns). I’m disabled and neurodivergent, and the parent of two kiddos. Politically? Well, I consider myself an anarchist at heart, but I still vote in every election. I think everyone should be able to have enough food, and a safe place to live, and yeah, even a few ‘unnecessary,’ fun things, just by virtue of being alive. As for the rest of my beliefs, you can probably garner a general idea if you peruse my blog even a little.

Now, onto the nitty-gritty. We had about ten days between when our last month’s food money ran out and when this month’s came in. It has been refilled as of today, so I don’t have to worry about that for the moment, but because of that gap, I had to spend money I’d set aside for other stuff on food. I paid our rent and energy bill for the month, but I’m a couple months overdue on our Internet bill, and I don’t want to risk that getting shut off. And then, well, it’s December. I’m trying to buy my kids some Christmas presents, and it’s not just my birthday month—my youngest kiddo’s birthday is four days before Christmas. Because of all this, I’m also way behind on writing stuff. I owe my zine subscribers a new issue (I didn’t send anything at all in November), and I’m trying to finish up some pieces to record for my new spoken word EP, but I’ve had to focus on day job and side-hustle stuff that’s more immediately lucrative, so I haven’t been able to dedicate much time to finishing these projects.

If you’d like to throw some $$ my way so I can get some gifts for my kiddos, keep my Internet on, get back to my writing, and maybe have a less-stressful birthday month than I did last year, I have V*nmo (JessieLynnMcMains) and P*yp*l (coeur.de.fantome [at] gmail[dot]com).

But hey, hey, I’m not just asking for something for nothing! I have a lot of stuff available on Ko-fi (rustbeltjessie), including print books and zines, ebooks and zines, and pins, and you can also hire me as an editor or commission a custom mini-collage. And almost everything is sliding scale/pay-what-you-can, some with a minimum price, others starting at $0.

And that zine subscription? It’s still not too late to get in on it, even though the year is almost over. If you sign up now, you’ll receive all previous issues, along with this month’s when it’s finished, and the final two will be mailed out in January.

Or perhaps you’d like to buy or commission something I don’t officially have for sale. Maybe you’d like to buy one of my existing pieces of art? Or commission a custom pin, designed by me, based on the band/film/fandom/whatever of your choice? Or commission a custom postcard poem/art piece, on the subject of your choice? Or have me write you a custom mini-zine, on the subject of your choice? I can do all those things! DM me, and we’ll work something out!

Oh, and I mentioned above that I was working on a new spoken word EP? Go check out my full-length spoken word album, Self-Portrait With Ghosts and Trains, which was released by Hello America Stereo Cassette in July 2021. You can find it at helloamerica.bandcamp.com. (I do get royalties from that release periodically, but it’s not as immediate as if you purchase something directly from me.)

All that said, I know times are tough for most people right now, so please don’t feel obligated to purchase anything or otherwise send money my way. And, as always, even just a few dollars helps, as does reblogging/boosting this post. 🖤

[eli0004]

Okay. So I loved loved loved your relationship HC canons. They were so well written and I loved him❤

But can I also request Levi falling in love HCs? Like I can imagine him being in love but for the love of God I can not imagine how he would fall in love with someone. Like what certain characteristics would he like? Bold? Calm? Sunshine? Introverted? And how will he be attracted to them? Would it be easy for him to accept his feelings or will he be in denial?

Like please please please.... I love the way you write Levi. So please.

-🌼

Absolutely! I love this topic actually, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about! 🖤 I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: How does Levi Ackerman fall in love, and what is his ideal type?

Warnings: None, maybe some talk of insecurity?

Levi is a December Capricorn. December Caps are known for being highly emotional, but struggling with emotional expression. They’re also usually very uptight and disciplined, and tend to take a practical approach when dealing with situations as opposed to flying by the seat of their pants. Obviously these traits are pretty accurate to Levi’s character. A Capricorn’s most ideal match are typically Taurus or Virgos. Commonly known Tausus/Virgo traits are passion, stubbornness, dependability, logic and communication.

Now, obviously you don’t have to be a Taurus or Virgo to be loved by Levi, but think with that in mind, Levi would do best with someone who is very strong willed and independent. He’s not the type of guy who wants to be with someone he has to keep his eye on. Emotional maturity and practical thinking are very important traits to him when looking for a partner, and someone who can communicate well is very attractive to him, since he has a harder time putting his feelings into words.

He likes someone who is genuine, trustworthy and dependable. Someone who has a strong sense of justice and empathy, who defends and advocates for others when they are unable to defend themselves.

I think he likes a good mix of pessimism and optimism. He’s a pessimist himself, so if you’re too optimistic it may irritate him rather than help, he prefers someone who is more of a realist. Someone who doesn’t enable his negativity, but who helps him to think rationally instead.

Like i said before, i think Levi is a deeply emotional person. If you’re only looking surface level, it wouldn’t be obvious, but when you breakdown a lot of his character traits in the show itself, it’s pretty clear that he tends to be swayed by his emotions. I think he would know immediately when he falls in love.

He’s the type of guy who’s always in his head, he thinks a lot, visiting the past, pondering the future. When he starts to catch his pondering turning into fantasizing about a life with you, doing domestic things, and being cozy together, that’s when it hits him.

But I think he’s also deeply insecure, not so much about his looks, but his personality. His ability to love again after having lost so many people. Whether or not you deserve someone better. He’s used to being misread as unapproachable or mean, so somewhere along the way, i think he might have begun to believe those things.

I think it would mean a lot to him if you just treated him like a normal person. Not humanities strongest, not mean or unapproachable, or someone to be pitied for his struggles. Just let him be Levi, and praise him for who he is in his soul.

All that said, i don’t think he would be the one to make a move 💀 because he’s so in his head, i think he’d be too worried that he’s misread the situation and that you don’t see him that way, perhaps you’re just being nice. He’s extremely oblivious to flirting.

But if you catch on first and decide to shoot your shot, he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He’s looking over his shoulder like “do you mean- are you talking to me?” Before that moment, he’s mostly convinced that he’ll be pining in silence for the rest of your lives.

Levi blushes. A lot. He’s very pale in complexion, so the smallest bit of flirting or teasing has heat spreading over his face, and it’s painfully obvious.

So when you’ve got him face to face, telling him how you feel about him, he may not be able to respond in beautiful poetic words, but his body language is enough to tell you how he feels.

He won’t make eye contact, he’s all red faced and bouncing his leg and gripping his teacup with so much force, you’d think it was going to crumble. And oh- what’s that? An ever-so- subtle, happy little grin; completely involuntary, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels boyish and vulnerable, but it’s strangely nice.

Your relationship with Levi is not a secret, but it is private. He values your time together, as it helps him to decompress. He all but melts in your embrace after a particularly hard day, and It’s crucial that you respect his desire for privacy, the level of raw emotion and vulnerability with these new experiences is something that he’s entrusted you with and that means everything to him.

And on the subject of new experiences, the more you handle him with care and allow him to process his feelings without judgment, the less he’ll worry about not being good enough, and you’ll find that he’s a very good and attentive lover.

Even still, you’ll find from time to time that reassurance is something Levi needs like he needs air to breathe, and this can come in the form of many things, like remembering little details about the things he loves, taking care of some of his responsibilities when he’s feeling overwhelmed, quiet touches when he lacks the energy to speak.

Having someone who sees him for who he is and loves all his broken pieces is what Levi finds comfort in while he’s nestled in your arms at night, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[xyurishux]

CHAPTER 1 - AS A WHOLE, TOGETHER

Word Count: ~1.7k

Tags: GN!reader, Mentions of family disputes

Summary: You begin to tell Sebastian how deep UrbanShades rabbit hole truly goes, starting with yourself.

Pardon any writing errors, they may happen!

“ oh sweetie, you’re not ugly, society is,”

“So,

When I was younger, life was as normal as can be. I was in mediocre family, it was me, my mom and my dad. I’d only see my mom in the morning, and when I was back from school my dad would be home for dinner. It wasn’t until way later I learned about his job, but that isn’t relevant right now. My dad was a mystery to me, he’s my dad but I didn’t know much to anything about him. I saw him everyday when I got home but it’s was for such a small period of time, did it even count?

Life was so mundane and repetitive. Go to school, pass tests, summer break then restart it all over again. Life was boring but it wasn’t difficult.

I would do anything to be back there…” You paused looking out into the ocean, it was dark you could mistake it for the above, only simply at night. You breathe out from your nose continuing on with your story.

 “Anyways, it was back in September of 2009 when my father got a promotion. Seeing his face 4 to 5 hours per day dwindled down to seeing him once every two weeks or so, usually on Sundays. He became an enigma.

“You see, something I couldn’t see at the time was that as I grew older, his need to be in my life lowered, and sadly, that same fate fell too with my mother by default.

His job already took a toll on their relationship. Only spending 4 to 5 hours with your partner every day over the span of five years isn’t so great.

My mother would see him as much as I did and now, he just wasn’t there. The signs of a falling relationship presented themselves beforehand, but now it was obvious to anyone that the only thing keeping them together was me. At least, for my mom that was the case.

“The house was more silent than it ever was empty…”

You looked to the side with your eyes to see Sebastians full attention on you, perhaps it was the story? Or maybe he didn’t have anything better to do or it might have been the way your voice spoke with full sincerity and no sarcasm. It was like someone else took control but it was undoubtedly you and he was fully enthralled.

Your eyes met and you looked back down at the cold tile as you carried on.

“Ether way, it was in November of that same year where things would shift. My mom would realize the steady money flowing in and at growing amounts. Now you have to understand that my mother isn’t of the suspicious type nor is she a person who comes up with wild conclusions. She was (and still is, I hope) a reasonable and sensible woman. She knew that this wasn’t a simple ‘promotion’, but to know where all this money came from, well…she didn’t have the slightest clue. She didn’t know and she would never know. Well, truly know…

“The first snow started to fall as December began and Winter break freed me from my studying. Shockingly, dad came home for the holidays and New Years. Funny anecdote, I remember getting my first iPhone as a gift from him that year. It was an iPhone 3GS, God the memories…my mother was not pleased in slightest.” You laughed silent tilting your head to the side as your reminisced, it was good and loyal phone…

 “Continuing on, after Christmas as a family and with the family the next day, my parents had the only disagreement I’ve ever witnessed (only a disagreement, it wasn’t enough to count as a fight).

I think it was about 2 am and the only light that was on was the one above the kitchen table. My dad was sitting facing my mother who standing up, the last of the family who came over for the party had finally left. Chip bowls and wine glasses were still scattered on the coffee table, only barely visible by the outside Christmas lights. I watched as my mom tapped her nails against the wooden chair she was partly leaning on as she took a deep breath. I could tell she was tired, exhausted even but I could also tell she had something bugging her and she needed to let it out. I watched them from the darkness that the staircase provided, I was undetectable. I listened to them talk, leaning my upper body to the wooden railing trying not to miss a single word. I don’t remember much; it was about the money at first but it was nothing compared to what my mother said next.”

“Samantha, look- “

“I’m breaking up with you”

“My mother broke up with my father. I sat upon the steps dumbfounded, I didn’t expect that from their conversation but even then, I didn’t know what to expect. The last of the conversation consisted of my father staying silent and staring at the table as my mom talked important matters to him. She told him that she would stay for the New Years and then move in with a friend in an apartment she found. After that she finished the glass of wine my dad poured for her at the start and left the kitchen when he didn’t have anything to add.

I’m pretty sure that night was the only time I saw my dad cry. He was still in love with her, never ever once thinking of ending their relationship. Never ever once thinking of loving another woman.

 Most children would walk down the stairs they sat on and go comfort their weeping father or at least ask if he was okay. But our relationship was so estranged to the point where I felt no reason to go down and comfort him. He simply was just my father, nothing else nothing more.

I watched him cry silently with his head in his hand as I sat on the steps with my legs close to my chest. I sat there for a few more minutes. I don’t know why I sat there watching for so long. Maybe I was intrigued with the sight, it was something new. A man I’ve know all my life was a mystery to me and now the last sight I might ever see of him is him crying his heart out. But soon enough I got tired, I walked back up to my bedroom and fell asleep to noise of the on going shower my mom was taking downstairs.

The next morning felt cold and unbalanced. The floor was cold to the touch and it was actually closer to noon then morning. The hall was silent as I walked down it and saw at the end of it that my mom was packing a suitcase and a large duffle bag. They were both placed on the bed with an equal amount of folded and unfolded clothes thrown around the two. It was enough to be unable to see the white and blue floral comforter underneath (or I remember it to be enough). I walked into the room and as if I didn’t witness the scene at the kitchen table last night I asked, “Are we going somewhere?”

She was so concentrated with her packing that she jumped startled when she heard my voice. With her hand over her heart, she turned to me with a forced smile (I knew that it was) and spoke words that I will never forget.”

“What were they?” Sebastian asked quietly, his full upper body now laying against the desk where you two sorted files on together almost an hour ago.

You smiled, “Well,

“Sweetheart! You scared me there,” She said, her smile faltering, “No, mommy is going somewhere, alone, but not forever. You’ll have to stay with dad for awhile.” She turned her head away as she folded a few pants and placed them into her suitcase. Then she squatted, and I had to look down to see her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and her lashes wet. I felt her hands on my upper arms as she continued to talk, “Mommy, mommy needs to go find herself for a bit, okay? Not for long but mommy needs this…I love you, eternally and always”

She left the same day with kiss on the forehead, her phone number seared into my mind and a “Be good while I’m gone, I’m a single phone call away”

And then I was there, at my door step, cold and watching as my mom entered her friend’s car with one last kiss blown to me. I caught it and placed it onto my cheek as she drove off. Now it was me and my estranged father and a lot of complex emotions I didn’t know how to decipher or begin to understand at the age of ten.”

You finished, pausing to take a breath for a second while also stretching your aching muscles.

“And then what? What does this have to do with us? With me?” Sebastian asked harshly as he raised himself from the desk.

“Give me a second, I need water and a snack, I’m a bit peckish,” you joked, smirking to him, before continuing, “Ether way, we’re barely getting into the meat of the story. I was just explaining how I got stuck with my father. Now will be getting into what he was doing

behind closed doors…”

And we start rolling, ~

@splatting-stampede

[kanmom51]

Rebirth - Muse - JM

[**This post was written before the release of today's BTB and the little explanation JM gave us about Rebirth and Slow dance. What can I say other than just how much more my words feel relevant now. ]

As promised.

Thought I'd sneak this one in before Are you sure? lands, cause Idk, I just have this feeling that once it does we are up for 1 of two options:

I'm so overwhelmed by the amount of content we are getting that I'll be so dumbfounded and unable to post at all; Or, I will be so busy ruffling through everything running after my own tail trying to post post post post, that I will have zero time or ability to post this.

Long story short, this was the time. Do or die pretty much.

So Intro: Rebirth.

Before I get into the lyrics themselves I do want to go back to what we learnt from the Minimoni album exchange.

I kind of feel like a broken record here, but then again, I do think that obviously watching that exchange and my post on it can be a good starting point into understanding not only what Muse is all about, but also that out of all the songs on the album, Rebirth, in a sense, is just a little more personal than the others.

JM talks how the lyrics for this one were really hard to write. He mentions this a couple of times.

This was also when JM talked it was hard to write about having a crush.

Before moving on and talking about the song itself I do want to clarify something here.

I was really surprised to see how people are interpreting this.

Do people not know what the meaning of the word crush is? Not only the actual term JM used in Korean (that perhaps got lost in translation), but the actual meaning of the word in English.

짝사랑 - this is the term JM used while talking to RM.

Which basically translates as unrequited or one sided love, which is just that if you understand the actual term of the word.

Go to Oxford dictionary and crush is described as: "a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable." And if you look up "infatuation" well: "an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something."

Now, when I heard the word crush that is exactly what I understood and it was funny for me to see that there were those that interpret the word as falling in love or being in love or similar to that, when crush means something else all together.

*Side note: JM's love life aside, knowing the concept of JM's album, it's easy to understand why he chose to use the idea of a crush as a metaphor to describe that short lived passion/excitement he was feeling with his work, telling us or showing us, with the development of the songs in the album, that indeed it is short lived and he was yet to find that long lasting feeling of excitement with the things he was doing (work/his art) - still searching for that "who".

Back to the meaning of crush.

As explained, a crush in English means an intense infatuation with another that is mostly unattainable. Two people can crush on each other, but it's a crush only as long as it is yet to be requited. Once it is reciprocated then it's no longer a crush. So, you can crush on someone unknowing that the other person has a crush on you. This crush can fizzle out and end in nothingness. But a crush evolve into a relationship if the two people involved move forward from it. Making that move forward towards each other.

This is what having a crush looks like:

And this is how it looks when you had a crush and are realizing that maybe, just maybe that person is reciprocating.

And this is when you have decided that he really is.

That was back in 2015 btw. August 2015 and December 2015. ALMOST 9 YEARS AGO.

Unattainable.

Short-lived.

Are we surprised JM wouldn't remember the last time he had a crush?

I will repeat this for the rows in the back that might not have heard. When JM says he doesn't remember the last time he had a crush, that doesn't mean he's single. Whoever thinks that is what he's saying needs a crash course in English and/or life.

A crash course in crush... lmao (yes, I am easily entertained).

So, JM had to turn to the youngest member of SGMB (lol) to remind him what it feels like to have a crush. And yet, as I have explained in the Minimoni post, Muse might not be autobiographical, but that doesn't mean that there aren't personal aspects to some of the songs, and the lyrics. Feelings expressed being real feelings drawn from his trove of inner thoughts, feelings and life and love experiences.

I will also add that although crushing is mostly one sided, and when it turns into more, as in the other party reciprocates, of course there are some of the feelings that linger. The rush, the want, the need. But at the same time things change in that the other side is feeling the same. When you look at them, they look back, gazes linger rather than avoiding eye contact, for example. There are the touches when crushing, and there are the touches, just as hesitant, after it becoming MORE. The first are one sided and usually hidden as something else (for example: "I just need to check your arm muscles for a sec"), while the second are two sided, intentional but at times hidden from others.

The differences might be so very slight at times, but if you have a keen eye you can definitley notice them. And they sure were noticeable when it came to Jikook.

Another thing before I start.

One word:

SERENDIPITY

Idk why, but I feel like Rebirth is a prequel to Serendipity. Even though Serendipity was not written by JM (although I do believe he had input into the song just like or even more so with John Billion - remember how JM says he's an American RM...), it most certainly was claimed by him and JK as theirs. You are me I am you being their trademarked catch phrase. A love ode from JM to JK. That song JM said he will gift his loved one and did. Followed by GCFT, JK's love ode to JM. And if I'm going down that road, well, if Rebirth is the prequel to Serendipity I'd say that Letter is the sequel to Serendipity. I kind of think I've mentioned this before in one of my posts about Letter.

Now that I'm done with my precursor, let's move on to the actual song. A song that out of the lot of them in this album seems to be the most personal. The only song that we didn't get to see the process of writing or recording of in content we have gotten so far for Muse (promotions now over).

[Verse] If I'm tryna be special Can I get closer to you? I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me If I'm tryna be special So that I can sing while making eye contact with you I'll show you, baby Oh, I didn't realize Oh, I didn't think I'd care Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness Like the sunshine vibe It spreads quietly [Chorus] That I want a real good love, good love, good love I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love I was in pitch black, but I couldn't stop thinking of you all day long I want to take one step and two steps closer without you knowing Stay with you, with you, with you, with you I will be your reason, rеason, reason, reason I hope this feeling rеaches you, to you, you To you [Outro] White clouds The wind passing by Floating petals It feels like it's been waiting just for us When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you) I wanna be with you

I will share with you what went through my mind once listening to Rebirth, all while reading parts of the translated lyrics. The flashing scenes. Parts that screamed JK or Jikook.

"I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me"

This:

And this:

And this:

And this:

More:

I can go on with this all day long. Being one of the most obvious sus behaviours with these two. But seeing that I don't want to exceed my image limit in this post I think this is where I will stop. Point made I guess.

"So that I can sing while making eye contact with you"

This was the first thing that came to mind:

😭😭

Although these did too:

And do we recall JK's sentiments about making eye contact with JM on stage?

They connect on stage. Before, during and at the end of the performance. We have seen it and they have told us so throughout the years.

Was that what JM was thinking of while writing that line?

This is clearly a line that is taken from his own personal experience. Singing while making eye contact is not something that regular people like you or I would come up with to express a feeling of love or want towards someone.

Drawing from his own emotions and experiences, how it is for him and how he might have used to wish it would be.

This line, more than any other is clearly that.

"Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness" and "Like the sunshine vibe"

The latter, as JM explained to RM, was a word game/pun for which he asked permission from Taeyang to use in his song, seeing that his name literally means sun and Vibe was his song, lol.

But, we also know there is someone else, much closer to home, much closer period, that is referred to as the sun. Someone that makes JM happy. Someone that makes JM laugh even when he's sad. Someone that JM chose to go into the army with, together!!! Someone that is the other half of the sun and moon duo, the sun to JM's moon.

And what about this?

I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love

And he found it.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

"When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you)

And he is. JM is special for JK. He has told and showed us this in so many ways in the past.

"I wanna be with you"

I wanna be with you...

Again, JM told us the songs aren't about his life, right? And yet, that doesn't mean they don't have a personal connection, that while writing he didn't take from his own experiences or feelings, that after writing he feels an emotional connection with the song, that even if not intended to it hits closer to home than others. And I feel like this is the case with Rebirth. I do believe that there is a reason it is the connecting song between Face and Muse. That there is a reason the interlude separates it from the rest of the songs.

[cheeseceli]

Christmas

Pairing: Ot8 stray kids × Gn!Reader (individual)

Genre: fluff scenarios

Description: activities Stray Kids would like to have with you on Christmas day

Warnings: I repeat the word "Christmas" way too much, mention of food at Chan and Felix's

A/n: I don't like this but I really wanted to write something for Christmas so here it is. Next year will be better

Bang Chan - dinner

Just sitting with you in a table full of the most delicious foods he could ever think of feels like a dream. He also gets to talk to you about everything and anything all at once, reminding each other about the whole year. He realises this year was particularly good, especially with you in it. So he soon starts to talk about his plans for the future, the one he hopes he can share with you too. He has a guess that the next year will be pretty good

Lee Know - snow

It doesn't matter if it snows a lot of other days besides Christmas, you both will be out in the streets when it's 25th of December. And if it snows right at its night, you can bet that he'll be running to get out of the house asap. For a second it feels like you both are the only ones in the world and the sky had decided to snow exclusively to create this moment. Just making a snowman, creating a snow fight or even just seeing the snowflakes fall from above might be one of the prettiest moments in Minho's life. But he doesn't think it's all because of the weather.

Changbin - gift giving

He knows Christmas is way more than just gifts, but he'd be lying if he said that he didn't like to gift people. Especially gifting you. He loves your reaction the most. He likes how excited you get, how you try to guess what the present is and your smile when you open the box. The happiness and gratitude in your eyes is the biggest gift he could ever receive.

Hyunjin - exploring the city

He'd take you to the best places in town, the prettiest ones, so the magic of this date could feel more visible. Having Christmas lights all over the place, those huge Christmas trees and perhaps even fireworks seems like a day he'd remember. But hopefully you remember the places you visited more than him so you can tell him how it was later, because he was too focused at looking at how your eyes shone to pay attention to any firework in the sky

Han - Movies

Watching movies in your shared bed with matching pajamas from the Christmas eve till the actual Christmas. It seems perfect to him. Some might think it's basic or not memorable at all, especially for a first time spending the holiday together, but he disagrees. He loves how simple it is. Just the two of you loving each other in silence and enjoying each others company seems great. You might even fall asleep hugging one another, but that just makes it more magical in his opinion.

Felix - baking

Not cliche if it's true. This man just LOVES baking with you. Cinnamon biscuits, pies, brownies or whatever to be honest. What exactly you are baking doesn't matter so much. He just loves to be there in the kitchen with you: flour all over the place and a smile in both of your lips. The fact that it's Christmas, such an important holiday, and you chose to spend it with him just makes it more cheerful.

Seungmin - Christmas tree

Decorating the tree would be so fun next to Seungmin. You both together would have the smartest of ideas on how to design the tree this year. It would look genuinely pretty. And just trying to figure where to put each decoration and the beautiful result would be so domestic but also exclusive to him. He thinks he doesn't ever want to decorate another Christmas tree if you are not by his side

I.N - karaoke

You both would be singing Mariah Carey till 2 AM, I just know it. Jokes aside I think he would genuinely like to have a small karaoke night, Christmas themed. And even before/after that night he would probably be hugging you from behind and singing a sweet melody in your ear, which you'd later realise to be a Christmas song. It feels a little bit like a movie, one that he likes very much.

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[rheanyraaaa]

WaterLilly Part 7

Enemies To Lovers

Robb Stark x Frey Reader (F)

A/N: hey guys, it’s been forever since i’ve posted bjt here i am, on a random wednesday night. I left it on a cliffhanger and disappeared i do apologise my loves but hopefully i can write some more chapters and wrap this lovely story up!

(thought lana del rey’s song fitted in this bcs it’s december 18)

——————————————————————————

Months had passed since the loss of the child, and the camp had moved on as war always demanded. But for you, the world still felt muted, shadowed by the grief you carried. In those early days, you had lashed out at Robb in your sorrow, your anger boiling over in the face of his perceived indifference (and even thrown books and other objects at him, you did have to be manhandled away by some guards from the breakdown). Yet anyways the words had been harsh, cutting deep, and though he had said little in return, the tension between you both had grown like a wall.

Now, though, there was a sense of change in the air. The camp was quieter, the ever-looming threat of battle briefly held at bay. And, perhaps most notably, Talisa was gone. Robb had sent her away with a satchel of coin and a terse farewell. No one spoke of her departure openly, though the rumors whispered that it was his mother’s final insistence that had tipped the balance.

You hadn’t mentioned Talisa since her absence became apparent, though you felt a strange mix of relief and uncertainty about it. It wasn’t a victory not in the way one might think. But it felt like a shift, and for that, you were cautiously grateful.

It was late one evening when Robb approached you near the fire pit, his expression hesitant but resolved. You were sitting alone, tending to a small piece of embroidery a simple habit you’d picked up to keep your hands busy. He stood there for a moment, silent, before clearing his throat.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said quietly.

You glanced up, the flickering firelight casting warm shadows on his face. “I don’t stray far,” you replied simply, your voice calm but guarded.

Robb shifted on his feet, as if unsure how to continue. “I wanted to… speak to you,” he said finally, sitting down on the log across from you. His blue-gray eyes met yours, and for the first time in months, there was no tension in his gaze only a quiet sort of sincerity.

You set your embroidery aside, folding your hands in your lap. “I’m listening,” you said, your tone measured.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair before letting out a small sigh. “I owe you an apology,” he began. “For everything. For how I’ve treated you, for how distant I’ve been… for Talisa.” The last word came out softly, almost reluctantly, but there was no malice in it, only acknowledgment.

You blinked, surprised by his candor, but you kept your expression neutral. “You sent her away,” you said, more a statement than a question.

Robb nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “It was the right thing to do. For her… and for us.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “And what do you mean by ‘us,’ Robb?”

His eyes flicked back up to meet yours, and there was a vulnerability in them that you hadn’t seen before. “I mean that I’ve done nothing to make this marriage work. I’ve failed you as a husband, as a partner. But I’d like to try… if you’ll let me.”

The fire crackled between you, filling the silence as his words hung in the air. You looked down at your hands, considering his offer. Slowly, you nodded.

“I won’t pretend it’s been easy,” you said softly. “But… I’m willing to try. We’ve both lost so much, Robb. Maybe it’s time we stop fighting each other and start fighting for something together.”

A faint smile touched his lips, small but genuine. “I think I’d like that.”

In the days that followed, your relationship with Robb began to shift, though the change was gradual. It started with simple gestures: shared meals, quiet conversations by the fire, fleeting glances that carried less animosity and more curiosity.

One evening, as you walked through the camp together, Robb surprised you by asking about the embroidery you carried. “What are you working on this time?” he asked, his tone light but genuinely interested.

You glanced at him, holding up the fabric. “It’s a wolf,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I thought it fitting.”

Robb chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on the design. “A direwolf for a Stark,” he mused. “It suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think I’d prefer a phoenix,” you teased. “Something that rises from the ashes.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. There was a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. “A phoenix, then,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It suits you better than any wolf.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, but you quickly turned away, hiding your smile as you continued walking.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still moments of awkwardness, of lingering hurts that couldn’t be ignored. But step by step, you and Robb were finding your way. And for the first time, you felt hope.

——————————————————————————

tags!!

@maysileeewrites @samieree @yeahnohoneybye @nervouschaosgladiator (for some reason it won’t let me tag you)

[nicola-fiore]

A selection of the daily letters (sent but undelivered) to Gio Fiore:

26 August 2017

Dear Gio, I'm writing you this letter because even as summer's ended, my father has yet to give me back my phone and laptop. So I hope that, somehow, this gets to you. Papa, Enzo and I are back in Milan. It's only an hour's drive away from Laglio, but it felt like it went on forever. The whole ride over, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and why you didn't show. You promised last night you'd come see me off but there was no sign of you at all. No call, no text, not even a note. Have I said something last night that's offended you? Or maybe done something to push you away? Whatever it is, please tell me, so I can make things right. I miss you so much already, but love you even more. I hope to hear from you soon. Yours always, Nicola xo

01 September 2017

My dearest Gio, It's been a week since I've seen or heard from you, and every day, I miss you more and more. It's another few days until school starts, but my father's announced at dinner tonight that we'll be moving all the way to the other end of the country — far, far away from you, to his hometown in Palermo, Sicily. At first I didn't understand why he would be pulling me out of school my senior year, but eventually, he came clean. It's to protect the baby, he said. But I don't know if I can fully believe him. Something in me feels like it might have more to do with not letting anyone in Milan know that his teenage daughter is with child. I wish you were here. More than anything. Love always, Nicola xo

08 September 2017

Tesoro mio, Palermo is beautiful, not unlike Laglio. It's sunny here most of the time, and I spend my days taking walks. My doctor here said it's good for both me and the baby. But I get tired often. That's to be expected, she said and I just nod along. I don't tell her that I don't really sleep well at night. I'd hate for it to somehow reach my father's ears. Everyone here knows everybody. But it's okay, I don't really mind the walks. I don't know anyone else here so walking passes the time. I've attached our address at the back of this letter, in case you can come and visit. I hope you do. I miss you terribly. Until then, Nicola xo

15 September 2017

My darling Gio, I had an ultrasound appointment this morning. Our baby's heartbeat is getting stronger with each visit. I wish I could somehow send you a snippet of it but I've no way to send it to you. My father has given me back my laptop, for school, but there's no internet in the house. We should appreciate nature more, he said. As if me taking my daily walks isn't enough. Still, I'll keep the audio file for when I can send you things online again. Thinking about you Nicola xo

03 October 2017

Cuore mio, This letter's a little bulkier than usual. I found this cute birthday card the other day and thought you might find it funny. I've also attached a photo of me and baby. As you can see, my bump's more noticeable now. I hope you're celebrating your special day as wonderfully as we had planned it should be. I'm sorry I'm not there to personally wish you a happy birthday. But please know that I'm thinking of you always. Happy birthday, my love. May you have many, many more to come. Love you forever, Nicola xo

16 October 2017

My love! We're having a boy! I just got back from another ultrasound check and was told that we're having a boy! I've included a snapshot of him in the envelope. It's a little hard to see but I promise, it's there! Haha! I know it's late but perhaps this can serve as my late birthday present. :) Wish you were here, Nicola xo

28 November 2017

Dear Gio, Felt our son kick for the very first time just now, and the first thing I thought of was to tell you so you could feel it, too. That is, until I remembered that you're not here. Oh well, at least you'll know when this gets to you. Better late than never, I guess. Goodnight for now, Nicola xo

25 December 2017

Dearest darling, I hope you're keeping warm there in Laglio. When my mother was still alive, she used to tell me of how the winters there can get quite cold. So, please don't forget to wear your jacket. And gloves. And a hat! I'd hate for you to ever get sick, especially during the holidays. I wish we were spending Christmas together but hearing from you would be more than enough for me. Either way, I wish you and your family a very happy holiday season. And I hope you receive everything you've wished for. Merry Christmas, amore mio. I love you. Forever yours, Nicola xo

27 December 2017

Love of my life, I hope that by the time this reaches you, it'd be New Year's Eve, so that in a way, I'm there with you when the new year rolls around. As the year slowly comes to a close, I find myself torn. Saying goodbye to this year feels like bidding you — and our memory together — a final farewell. But as much as it pains me that we won't be starting 2018 like we wanted to, in three months' time, our son will be here. And I can only pray that you will be with us by then, too. Please never forget how much I love you. Until my last breath, I am forever yours. Your Nicola xo

[mercurygray]

how to get home, for Cord? 💙

The days feel longer here.

It feels strange to say that, as they move into December and the dark descends before the sun's even had a chance to get her coat on, but wars don't run on business hours, and everyone can pull out their desk lamps and continue calculations well into the wee hours of the evening if that's what conditions demand. And the war demands a lot, always.

The new men coming in think that this is just the way that Thorpe Abbotts has always been - that the ops officers are seldom in the officers club, that that ground crew don't know your name. No one bothers to correct the impression, except perhaps Rosie Rosenthal, who even Colonel Harding will agree is in a class by himself.

Everyone is different after Munster, and none of the old hands want to correct assumptions. Harry Crosby is a loner, Ev Blakely tells fewer jokes, and Cordelia Callaway is an ice queen who's married to her job and never smiles.

Let 'em, Cord thinks to herself, finishing the last touches on the week's accident reports and watching out of the corner of her eye as a few new WACs go by, whispering. Why should it matter? She stands up and stretches, concious, as she has not been for a while, of the tension in her shoulders and the twinge in her jaw.

"Lieutenant Callaway, do you have a minute?" Cord looks up to see Fred Torvaldsen standing in the doorway, her homemade red scarf vivid against the blue of her Red Cross uniform and the gray outside. "I've got - something for you."

It's an odd request - Cord doesn't know the woman over and above a few cups of coffee, a good singing voice, and a heart for stray cats. (Anita spent a whole day talking about spark plugs before it was explained that she meant the Aero Club's new kitten.) A mittened hand holds something out - a letter. "It came to me, but it's - it's for you," Fred explains. "I think they wanted to - get it around the censor. I hope you don't mind I opened it."

The poor-quality paper is crumpled, the handwriting messy and rushed. There's only one person who writes like that. Cord finds herself leaning against the wall. (Fred, she notices, hasn't moved. How many letters like this has she delivered?)

Dear Cord,

I don't know what to say except I'm sorry.

And that's it. That's all there is. Ten words that hit her like a ton of bricks. Sorry, Bucky? You're sorry? What does that even - sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry you're not here? Sorry you're alive and you didn't think it would be important to tell me? Sorry?

It is so maddeningly and frustratingly him that she can hardly think - the wall is holding her up and she wishes it were him. You're a thousand miles away and you're right here in this paper, and I miss you so much, Bucky, your shoulders and your smile and the way you make me laugh…

The words have been struck through, heavily, with a pencil, and as she reads them a fifth and sixth time, she can almost see him, hunched over a table in a chair that is too small for him, struggling with the words and then deciding they're not worth the paper they're written on, striking them out and throwing down the pencil and crumpling up the page. Underneath there are a few more lines, added in a script she knows is Gale's -

Sorry you haven't heard from him sooner. He's started this letter five times and I thought you ought to at least get one.

I think if he missed you less, he'd be able to talk about it more. He hasn't said your name since we got here.

We're all doing okay, and hope you are, too. Say hi to everyone for us. Gale.

That, too, is a new wave of tears - classic Gale. At least he knows how to get home. She hopes for a tearful moment that Marjorie Spencer has gotten the letters that she knows Gale has written like clockwork in his fine, neat hand. And she has ten words. Ten words, struck out for being written, and her name, and 'Dear', and all of that somehow not good enough to actually send. John Egan, if you were here I don't know what I'd do to you. Kiss you, kill you, or never let go of you.

She looks up, wipes her eyes on the back of her hand, and realizes Fred is still standing there, smiling faintly, a handkerchief in her hand. Cord sniffles and takes it, grateful. "There's paper at the club, when you want to write him back."

"No if?" Cord asks, blowing her nose and trying to find the ice queen again behind the hot tears on her cheek.

"No one I know cries like that over ifs," Fred replied with a little smile. "Mary's baking shortbread later. We'll save you some."

Later that night, when she has been installed in a comfortable chair with a cup of tea and three of the promised cookies, she finds herself staring at the paper feeling blank. "Well, what would you say if he were here right now?" Mary asks, sitting down with her own cup of tea and gesturing to an empty chair like it will somehow conjure the man.

Cord stares at the empty chair, and then writes down the only words she can think of, picturing him.

You stupid, stupid, stupid man.

The only apology I want is for not writing sooner - and for thinking that I wouldn't want a letter. What kind of woman do you think I am? Jack Kidd was kind enough to give me your jacket - the one I said I hated. It's in my room now. I'll return it to you when you get back - or not. The weather's been getting colder and a girl might need it…

[9w1ft]

I always interpreted evermore as a song about depression, I never linked it to Kaylor, can you tell me your view on this song?

dang i had a conversation about this with someone several months ago but i can’t find it. ill give you the abridged version. firstly, i think it can be about both! because the situation got depressing there for a hot minute!!

taylor said in an interview with zane lowe for apple music that she had written the song when the election was upon us and she didn't know what was going to happen. evermore the album was released in december 2020, which suggests that she wrote it pretty close to the release date, but also had time to reflect on what she knew to be true before releasing it— that trump wouldn’t win reelection. there’s a billboard article where she talks about the moment she learned biden won and i think it meshes really well with how evermore concludes thematically and emotionally.

when we think about the impact that trump being elected had on kaylor back in 2016–throwing a birthday party for lorde only days before the 2016 general election and wearing the vsfs angel wing ring in public for the first time, and that picture of them both kissing lorde on the cheek, going from that to at once enacting a love blackout and never being seen regularly in public again (the next time being rep tour 2018)— and on top of that, them going out of their way to separate themselves in the media via the creation of a “feud” during 2017 (swish swish, sushigate, etcetera) which pitted karlie with katy perry and kanye and cast her as someone for swifties to hate, guilty by association, we can imagine the weight and sadness of this chapter in their story. this is the start of the pain. this choice (i consider it a choice), to take the battle underground, sunk kaylor little by little into the world of the improbable for any casual observer. and it also put somewhat of a hex on karlie indefinitely, and for as brave of a soldier as she is, its an awful long while to be put in jail for something you didn’t do.

with these details as the background, i consider evermore to be a song chiefly about 2019 onward, though you might also position some of the date markers in the song within a sort of 2016/2017 focused timeframe. personally though i tend to think that 2019 events work just as well and operate under similar themes. for example, “hey november i’ve been down since july” could be in reference to the period of time where it became slowly more clear that the 2016 election results might not be a non-starter. or, it could reference the day after the masters sale (which was end of june 2019) and the theorized “failed coming out” that many expected her to do at the new york city pride parade that week. this followed by november, the conclusion of editing Miss Americana which would be released the following month (“motion capture put me in a bad light”) or alternatively november 2020, the point at which she is writing this song. there’s also an lsk theory that taylor and karlie were broken up from july to november 2019 but im not so versed in that so i’ll just keep it to a mention.

in any case, “hey december” can circle back to miss americana being released, not as a coming out documentary but as a “political coming out” documentary. hence the “can’t remember what i used to fight for.”

or it could be both, in a way. for example rewinding the tape but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost could be both the rewinding of the miss americana documentary released in 2019, and/or perhaps conceptually the idea of the 2016 election night footage being rewound by everyone in the disbelief that occured the night that “all was lost”

because all was lost that night, in a way, no?

i tend to see justin vernon’s part as being a depiction of karlie after kaylor was exiled to a new level post the masters sale. i don’t mean this to say they were broken up. it’s just that they had to do a factory reset on a lot of the progress that had been made up until that point, and they would not be seen together (in order to accomplish some vigilante shit, is what i think anyway). back to justin vernon’s lines. it just reminded me deeply of all the hate karlie got that summer. and indeed, all the hate she had accrued until then. whether summer or winter, this feuding arc had put karlie in a position that i would argue was growing unbearable and incessant. “out on waves im being tossed, is there a line that i could just go cross?” referring to the latest wave of said hate. in this scenario, “can’t not think of all the cost and the things that would be lost oh can’t we just get a pause to be certain we’ll be tall again?” seems like karlie calling out to taylor, amidst the haze and confusion of the masters sale, think about everything that we would be giving up if you don’t come out right now. (think of me.). and then upon that line leading nowhere saying hey let’s pause before we hurt each other, to be certain we will make it through. here “tall again” reminds me of paper rings “standing here so tall”

so what of the ending? well, as a time marker i would once again refer to when the song was released, post-2020 election, where taylor saw that trump had lost and they would have a path forward. …covid-19 was yet to happen of course, and with that i think there were life priority shifts, but i just see evermore as a song that covers taylor and karlie seeing a light at the end of the tunnel that had been their love lockdown to love blackout to exile story. its a song that encompasses so much hope and i just really really really love it as a kaylor song because of the specificity with which you can tie it to their story, specifically a more contemporary chapter, the likes of which we hadn’t had too many songs depicting up until that point (basically just peace/hoax/the lakes).

so yeah that’s why it’s a kaylor song to me 🫶