#My heart belongs to you from now

[zu-is-here]

cupid

[messy-nyks]

The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction - Davor edition

I-I think Ms. Verner doesn't like him...😳

Davor "Dove" Kovač 🐝 RO: Becca Warrick

Personality: cautious // aloof // pessimistic // flirtatious (only towards Becca ...and Reese??) Traits: head // independent // resistance // believer Past affinity: math Primary ability: extrasensory awareness Past susceptibility: forward. 'it’s better to push forward. don’t look back on the past when you have new places to be and things to achieve.' <<< his motto

🕊️ Fernweh: Davor lived a happy life there and didn't think about leaving in the future. Maybe for some trips, but he knew it would always be his place, his safe place... 'It was a mistake to come back here.' - that was his first thought when he tried to fall asleep on the first night in Fernweh. The nightmares came back as he thought they would. He wants to leave as soon as possible because he feels that it is not safe for Becca to be here.

🕊️ Gramps Dan: That was his gramps who taught Davor how to play the guitar. As a young child, Davor always admired him and believed he was the most intelligent person in the world. After the death of his parents and how his grandfather treated him, he was devastated and angry. He wanted answers soo badly but didn't get any. He lived loathing his grandfather ever since. The news of his passing stirred up a lot of negative emotions that Davor had previously managed to suppress. At the beginning of the story he couldn't care less about his grandfather, but because of his journal he started to believe him. Things that his granfather lived through made Davor even more angry at this messy town …but he's willing to forgive his gramps…

🐝 Becca Warrick: It was a ...funny story that brought both of them together and they look after each other ever since. He considers Becca as his precious (not in a negative-possessive way) treasure, he literally can't let anything bad happen to her. That was also she who came up with the nickname 'Dove'... (and she's literally the only person who calls him that, others wouldn't dare...). He had feelings for her for quite some time but didn't act on it... until now. Although he didn't express it, he felt very nervous about Becca being in the town where he grew up. He was curious (but also scared) about what she could think of this town. He felt like he was revealing more of himself to her…. and he forgot about any worries pretty fast, because the town started being weird as fu--.

🕊️ Reese Verner: Back then Davor was quite cheerful and enjoyed competing with Reese regularly. They teased each other a lot. Davor always thought that Reese had a crush on him, was it true tho? donut know, but he certainly had. ...why does he appear in his nightmares? Maybe the crush stage never disappeared...? Seeing him again was a nice experience, sure... but ignoring the circumstances, he is still unsure if it was worth it and is struggling with his thoughts… Would it be worth it to return to Fernweh just to see him... again? welp, good thing he doesn't have to think about it much, am I right?

🕊️ Sofia Dorran: The two of them maybe did not have a strong relationship, but he knew Sofia is the ideal person for engaging in intelligent conversations. He enjoyed spending time with her, solving the puzzles that gramps created for them both. Davor wasn't a fan of fantasy books, but she managed to change his mind about them. Davor knows that Sofia did take good care of his grandfather, but he still doesn't quite know if he's grateful for that or wished she spent her time more... valuably... He was tempted to ask Sofia to borrow that book she found in his grandfather's bedroom, but he thought better of it. It's better to leave Fernweh… Even so, his curiosity wasn't properly fed.

🕊️ James Corvin: Maybe not brothers by blood, but definitely brothers by choice. Davor treated him as if he was the brother he always wanted to have. Back then Davor always placed a high value on his family… until now. At the time, Davor tended to be more impulsive and James was usually the one who kept him from getting into trouble (which often involved Reese). It was really hard, for both of them, to see each other after so long. Their first interaction was pretty awkward... I would even say that most of their interactions were . James noticed how Davor changed the question is: for the better or worse? I don't even know. Everyone can sense, that things around them are different now, and they aren't as close as before. Will it change?

🕊️ Alek Corvin: …To say that Alek wasn't a fan of Davor would be an understatement. Was it because James spent most of his time focusing only on Davor trying to get him out of trouble? Did Alek observe any possessiveness from Davor towards James? Or maybe simply because of the bond between those two, which was truly something that others would envy and desire? Davor never considered it, especially when he left Fernweh permanently. :)) As you can imagine, Alek doesn't seem very happy about Davor's return… But he took an interest in his new friend, Becca, which did not go unnoticed by Davor and he isn't really happy about it.

🕊️ The Waitress: Oh boy, it seems that Davor has taken up a new hobby, which is glaring harshly at the waitress. He finds her mistrustful and he smells trouble. Had they met when he was younger, there may have been a slim chance of them getting along.

🕊️ Waffles!: So um… Davor has a little issue with dogs and because of that his relationship with Waffles isn't as wonderful as I wish it would be... However, I believe that with time and help from Becca, they will eventually become friends.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hauntingblue]

You guys think the one piece movies are on letterboxd?

[princehugo]

they made Cleo a lesbian which is all I ever wanted but I can't even appreciate it because they handled it so fucking badly because this season's showrunners are allergic to having genuine authentic character moments that matter and I hate being upset but I AM

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Throwing stones, fireworks or other objects at the swans, ducks, geese and pigeons or otherwise doing them violence will result in a fine and may be brought to trial

handwritten: Please don’t piss on the animals!!

The duality of Dresden really does hit you everywhere

[crossbackpoke-check]

Sometimes, I will come across your blog and read certain tags on certain pairs because, What? What? How are your thoughts my thoughts? How is someone else expressing (so perfectly) what I thought existed only in my head? The references (warm leftovers, please. Feel horribly proprietary over that poem.), the memes, the word choices. I know we all grew up on the same internet, but it's like we grew up in the same corner.

It rattles me each time it happens and yet, the next time I return, and wander through, reading along as if we were walking through my local arboretum and you were rambling and I was nodding along. Consider this ask my version of a reply in the arboretum world.

i-

when i got this i just had to sit there and read your message a few times because that is one of the loveliest compliments i’ve ever gotten and i hope you know i am overjoyed to be here rambling to you 💕 to have touched you in some way!! to form a connection!!! and all i can say is thank you and i love you and i would love to go for a walk in the arboretum with you any time

[caracello]

infbbcbsbb;;#b,v;:&,;*;jjemB&,@&njdni*^÷*,ido,&÷*¡€\♡•¡♤. hHi.

[freedomsbounty]

Relationship Tags

bond || Zarya x Vivian: you’re my victory so I’m gonna soldier on bond || Kassandra x Evie: everything that you hold you make it shine like gold bond || Zarya x Odessa: tell me your nightmares and fantasies sink into the wasteland

bond || Kassandra x Soma: share this world. the seas. the stars. eternity my lady; fall into me

bond || Sevika x Xu: from hell with love I write confess my passion crime

bond || Zarya x Satya: she lit a fire and now she’s in my every thought

bond || Sevika x Satya: you’re my heaven in my heartbeat and my one true bliss

bond || Vi x Caitlyn: with my heart in your hands don't let go

bond || Sevika x Mel: Cus the rest of you. The best of you. Honey. belongs to me

bond || Pharah x Ashe: They look at me like I’m a scar upon their perfect skin

bond || Vi x Emily: You were my beacon of salvation; I was your starlight

[bylertruther]

just read the latest chapter for "I'm Going to Work On Believing It" and um . when i tell u my goosebumps started flaring and still have not stopped 6k words and however many minutes later....... i'm dead dying sobbing drowning in a puddle of my own tears my heart is three times bigger n full of ooey gooey love n joy n warmth i'm healed i'm—

[lunaetis]

@celestiafell asked :

a kiss while being reunited after a long time && a kiss that seals a promise . ( for dehya and alhaitham! )

↪     𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺  ﹠ ᵀᴱᴸᴸ . || accepting

─「ديهيا」─  is the memory of your past lives still yours in this life ?

                one could never tell, and there was no definite answer as to the person you were prior to your rebirth could still be called YOU or not. but that was what life is, wasn't it ? the golden string that tied one soul to another through time and space, through death and cycle of life and rebirth. the actions in your past life, the karma accumulated through her lifetime itself will determine who or what you would be in this one. the good and the bad, it was all written down by the pen of destiny and fate, controlled by the DIVINE TREE and recorded down in the history before the cycle repeated itself once more.

                then, how could one explain the emotion that rose from the heart when eyes met with another ? if this feeling was yours or it belonged to you from the previous cycle ? what was REAL and what was fabricated by the memory haunting them in their wake ? was it a curse or a blessing for one to remember the past long gone ? the years that had passed and the bodies crumbling into nothingness, returning to the soil of TEYVAT and feeding the divine tree herself.

                my soul belong to you.

                not just her LIFE, but her very soul, the only thing that carried on even after the vessel of life had died and the timespan ended for that cycle, awaiting to return and repeat within the same circle. this was how they were, a DECISION that would affect the following rebirth yet ... does it really define the entirety of this instance ? the pledge made as the flame lioness to the SCARLET KING, for her soul to find his no matter how many centuries would come and go.

                you don't owe me anything.

                her hand held onto his own, desperately, stubbornly so, as azure hues refused to let him out of her grasp anymore. no — she cannot bear to let him go, not again. the HOLLOW feeling inside her chest grew every time they had to part, every single time those pair of eyes were forced to watch his back getting further and further away, akin to the time long gone that she wasn't allowed to reach her hand out and stop him. my king ... please don't go. the unsaid words being swallowed back down her throat, and the MYTHICAL BEAST could only bowed her head, watching her heart being torn as he made that sacrifice to save his people from his own taboo and forbidden act.

                " this is not me letting my past decide for me, this is me, as myself, choosing who my heart belongs to. " it might be true that their bond of ancient time was the fact that she was drawn to him, it might be true that her LOVE for him as flame lioness was governing her to not let go of his hand. but the fact that her heart was pounding inside her chest, the fact that her eyes were following him even now despite both of them becoming DIFFERENT PEOPLE. they were no longer who they were back then, and yet —

                — yet, her soul called for him, the same way the rhythm of her heart echoed to his own. this was not debt, nor PAYMENT.

                before he could utter a word, whether it be agreement or defiance, she didn't know, but her lips pressed to his own in a devoted kiss. the warmth of her lips transferred the burning feeling she kept inside of her, the way her heart beat so harshly inside her ribcage and the taste of his mouth upon her own felt like a long-overdue act. across time and places, countless of days and nights that passed by them, finally her feeling reached him, or so she hoped he felt it all.

                the OVERWHELMING affection harbored inside, the yearn threatening to burst forth every time their skins touched, like a roar of the lioness she once was, like an oath she used to make when kneeling down in front of him. as a beast to the king, and now, as a mercenary to the feeble scholar he claimed himself to be.

                " i belong to you, alhaitham. " not KING DESHRET, not al-ahmar or the scarlet king, but him, as himself, as the man standing before her, the man who saved her life in that ruins when their memory was evoked. the man who stood by her side as they saved the city of sumeru together, the man who sat next to her under the starry nights, words exchanged in hushed tones, and the man who refused to let his past define him despite the burden of knowledge weighing heavily upon his shoulders.

                her breathing spilled over his own, and fingers tightened around his sturdy ones as though to reaffirm her intention, her words, her promise. the two SOULS that were separated from one another for centuries, now returning back in different vessels, as different people. the same hearts, same feelings born anew.

                " my heart beats for you, not the scarlet king, you. this feeling ... it's real. " not a MIRAGE, nor a memory, it was present, and as real as one could be. who they were, and who they are now finally MERGED into one moment frozen in time.

                " you have me, until the end of time. "

[ohmydarlinghowiloveyou]

I Love You More Than Life Itself ♡

You Are My World, My Universe And All Of It’s Stars, All Of It’s Galaxies All Of It’s Blackholes, It’s Endless Universe’s Apart From Our Own ♡

In Every Universe. In Every Timeline I Know. That Out There Every Single Version Of Ourselves. Is Together. In Every Universe. In Every Galaxy Out There. I Know It’s True. ♡

You are the reason I Live ♡

You are the reason I still breathe ♡

You are the sole reason for me

still being on this earth ♡

I worship you ♡

My Savior ♡

You Saved Me ♡

I adore you ♡

My Goddess ♡

I Love You ♡

I could never ♡

be able to ♡

Truly convey ♡

Just how Much ♡

I Love You ♡

With simply words ♡

Or Simply Actions ♡

I just hope you know ♡

That I’d Kill ♡

Anyone who would try ♡

To separate us ♡

This Is My Love Letter ♡

To You ♡

One Of Many More ♡

I hope you like it, my darling ~ ♡

[softersinned-arc]

@balldwin said: [ HAIR ]: sender slowly reaches out to catch a loose strand of the receiver’s hair and tuck it gently and securely back behind their ear, letting their touch linger afterwards.

He can feel her eyes on him in the dark.

He always seems aware of her in a way that would, from someone else, make her feel surveilled; from him, it simply suggests that he is merely degrees away from omniscience. A more impressionable mind might have made him a new god, but Astoria is, at the moment, taking too much vicious pleasure in the promise of her damnation to cede control of her soul to anyone else.

Something about him suggests that he may take it all the same. She is not so unhappy with the thought as she would have imagined she would be.

Tonight he stands in the gardens below where she sits and he tips his head back as his guest leaves, eyes finding hers through the black of night. For several long moments they are silent and still, and then in the space of one breath to another he's gone, and she can hear the door close from three floors away. It is out of courtesy for her that Baldwin walks slowly and allows himself to be heard—it gives her time, should she wish it, to cover herself more, or prepare for another person's arrival. Were she still a warmblood she would be cold, perhaps even modest, but he has seen her half-mad and hunched over her prey, dripping blood and gore, and she has little enough shame where he is concerned. Her bare feet press firmly against the railing beneath her, and the night's steady breeze lifts the hem of her nightgown a fraction of an inch before letting it settle against her calves again.

"So," he says by way of greeting, and he walks through the room to the balcony where she sits, "you have recovered from—earlier?"

His delicacy, though unnecessary, is appreciated all the same. Astoria waits until he is standing beside her at the railing, his hands set against the stone several inches from where she's laid her feet, before she looks at him. She leans forward, winds her arms around her legs, tightens her hand around the handkerchief she's holding.

To call it a surprise would have been an understatement. She would have imagined he was dead by now—she saw him last fifty years before, and he was only a year or two younger than her, and human. And he had never had enough sense to hold his tongue when he should have, nor enough cowardice to shy away from the urge towards self-sacrifice in the name of patriotism or, worse still, the right thing. And he had seen her, called out her name in disbelief, crossed the wide street to reach her and take her arm with surprising strength for a man of his age.

It was funny, in its own way: once, she had imagined they would spend their lives together, and today, she had spent years without thinking of him once. Far enough from her that she hadn't realized he was still there, Baldwin had paused in surprise at the intrusion, and when Iain Blackwood's wizened hand gripped her arm, his nostrils had flared with a sudden anger. "Astoria," Iain repeated, and when she looked at him she wore a pleasant but confused expression, and she gently detached his hand from her arm.

If she looked closely she could see it then, that beneath the years and the laughter lines, he was the same man who had once told her that, if they simply waited long enough, he could divorce his wife and take her instead—one of the few advantages of Henry's bouts of evangelism, he'd insisted, and fuck the Pope and God Himself, too, but he would have her for his wife. Astoria had laughed at that and told him not to speak nonsense, and that week, Celia told him she was carrying his child, and there was no more talk of marriage. Now, he stared at her in wonder, disbelief, while Astoria patted his hand warmly.

"I'm terribly sorry." She spoke with a perfect English accent, indistinguishable from the native Londoners she had met while she and Baldwin were in the city. "But I think you have mistaken me for someone else."

He shook his head. "Astoria Grim," he insisted adamantly. "I know you."

To deny any connection would have made him doubt her further. She shook her head and squeezed his hand. "My great-aunt died when my father was a boy. He always said I looked like her." And she laughed sympathetically, though her stomach was churning, and she felt rather as though she might be sick, as the son that Iain had crept away from rushed to catch up to them. "Did you know her?"

It felt wrong, to lie to him, but it seemed to work. Iain took a step back, looking dazed, as his son caught his arm again. The Astoria that he remembered would have been his age. She would have spoken with the melodic lilt of her Swedish grandfather's influence. She would never have turned him away. "I did," he answered, and he offered a vague apology before he covered his son's hand with his own and turned away from them.

She waited until they were out of sight to let herself feel it. Now, there is nothing to feel, though she runs her thumb over the fabric of the handkerchief, folded over her index finger, and she looks up at Baldwin and lets the corner of her mouth quirk upward into a crooked smile. "I have," she confirms, and Baldwin looks pointedly at the handkerchief she's holding.

"What is that?" he asks, though he already knows, and Astoria turns her hand and opens it obediently, holding the cloth in her palm. Quietly, she lets out an embarrassed little laugh, and she stretches his hand out for him to reach. When he plucks the handkerchief from her grasp, she clears her throat, eyes flickering away from him.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked."

Once they were gone, she had closed her eyes, taken in several deep breaths, but the sheer number of people in the crowded street did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. From where he stood Baldwin could, no doubt, have seen just how she was beginning to lose control, and it doesn't surprise her that he saw what followed: that she had pulled the handkerchief from where she kept it tucked inside her sleeve and lifted it to her nose, and she breathed in the scent there instead, faint though it was.

"Did it help?" Baldwin asks in the present, and Astoria clears her throat again, cheeks coloring a gentle pink. From what she's seen, it's rare for a wearh to blush, but she always seems to manage it when his eyes are on her.

"It did." She speaks quietly, but she speaks the truth: the moment she'd breathed in his scent of woodfire and leather she had felt safe again, and steady on her own feet. The fear was gone, and when she opened her eyes they were no longer swimming—and she felt, as she so often did at his side, like herself again. She looks at her knees, afraid that if she meets his searching gaze he'll be able to uncover the secrets she has yet to even tell herself.

She knows what this is, or she knows enough: five years with him and they are rarely apart. He has been an excellent teacher and guide, and more patient with her than she would ever have imagined he could be. He does not seem to resent her presence, or that she still cannot hunt entirely on her own, and certainly not without supervision if she does not mean to kill. On the rare occasions that she sleeps, she dreams of him. His scent is her anchor to the world, and her heart, damaged and cold as it is, seems to be utterly, entirely his. How inconvenient, and, at once, how wonderful, to know that her ability to fall so absurdly in love had not died with the rest of her. That to be away from him makes her feel as though there is a knife slipped between her ribs is no doubt the result of being caged so long; who could expect her to come out of it sane? But at its core, she knows what it is, just as she knows that whatever she felt decades ago for the man she saw today, it has not prepared her for this.

Inconvenient, to say the least; she cannot talk herself out of it and so she simply ignores it as often as she can, though in moments like these she wonders if he can smell it on her. Baldwin only watches her, silent in a way that she's learned by now means he wants her to continue without having to be asked, and Astoria lets out a petulant little sigh, though she's smiling (albeit guiltily) when she looks at him again. "Had you been looking for that?" she asks, though she knows that's not the information he's waiting to hear.

"Yes. I had expected an error by our staff, though perhaps I should have anticipated a bit of theft."

"That does seem like an oversight on your part," she says, quite sincerely, though she laughs a moment later and shakes her head. "It's the only one I've taken. I doubted you'd miss it. It helps keep me—" Her voice trails off for a moment, and she reaches back for something to do with her hands. Impatiently, she gathers her braided hair and begins combing it out, fingers working through the tangles there.

Even in the dark she sees Baldwin's gaze shift, settling for a moment on a particular red curl hanging from her finger. It is perhaps the second or third time he's seen her hair loose, and he seems to understand the gravity of such a vulnerability with him—but she has no use for modesty or shame with him, and with his attention diverted she pushes forward. "It keeps me from getting overwhelmed. Usually, you're there, and that helps, but when you're not—it's a poor substitute but it's useful all the same. One scent I know well keeps me from going mad when presented with a thousand."

"I see." He drags his gaze from her hair back to her face, and she feels suddenly and terribly (wonderfully) exposed.

"It reminds me that I am not where I have been. And that as long as I'm with you, I am safe." That seems to surprise him, though she can't be sure, as she looks at his hands after only a moment of meeting his eyes. "Even after years, I'm not quite used to it. I trust you—" And here she laughs again and looks back at him. "—God help me, I trust you with my life and my freedom alike. The reminder that it's you looking after me is a welcome one."

Baldwin grins, suddenly, and she feels all the air being knocked out of her lungs at the sight of it. "Quite a change from the certainty I'd let Father Hubbard drink from you," he points out after a moment, and it prompts yet another laugh. Quickly, so quickly she thinks she imagined it, she could swear she sees him close his eyes as if to savor the sound of her laugh.

"Well, you see, I've learned the truth about you."

"Have you, now?"

"Mm." She leans forward as much as she can without losing her balance on the railing. "You like me."

He chuckles, and the rich rumble of his voice is a song. "Maybe, for the moment, you're of more use to me alive." But he's still grinning, and she can recognize his tone as—teasing. How magnificent, that he'll tease her like that, that he knows her well enough to be certain she'll take it as it's meant. How beautiful, that he seems to enjoy making her laugh.

"Oh, I certainly am, but it's still true. You like me. And you won't let anyone harm me, even myself. It's alright," she adds, and she settles back against the wall with a smug little smile. "I like you, too."

"Do you, now?"

"Very much. There is not another soul in this world who's taken care of me like you have."

The confession is unexpected. Baldwin's expression seems to soften, though perhaps it's the low light.

"When I need to remember that I am alive, and still myself, I think of you." She looks out over the gardens again, but she's drawn back to him, the beautiful line of his jaw in the dark. "Cuore mio. You are my sanity and my safety." His eyebrows raise at the Italian, and she laughs low in her throat. "That's what you are, isn't it? If you had turned us away that day, I would be dead, or mad. That I am still myself, that I still exist at all, is because of you." And if I were to be separated from you now, I'm not certain I would know how to remain myself. She swings her legs around and shifts so that her feet are on the stone floor of the balcony, and she looks up at Baldwin and smiles. "Will you take me out? I'd like to hunt."

For a long, long moment, he is silent, watching her. Slowly, as though he was reaching out to soothe a frightened animal, he reaches for her, and he tips her chin up, brushes that same errant curl he'd been watching before behind her ear, as if to grant himself an unimpeded view of her face. His fingers brush against her cheek, and his expression seems almost tender, but he says nothing. After a beat, he drags his finger along her jaw before he lowers his hand.

"Do you want to dress, first?" he asks, and she stands, shaking her head.

"If anyone sees me, they'll assume I'm some restless spirit," she says with a little laugh, and she tries not to think about how gentle his touch was against her skin, or how badly she wanted to lean into it, or that she feels oddly, impossibly cold now that he's released her. (She glides across the floor quickly enough that she has to wait for him at the door. She does not see him lift the handkerchief, still in his hand, to his nose and breathe her in.)

She wakes the next morning after an hour or two of sound sleep, soothed by having drunk her fill mere hours before. When she opens her eyes the first thing she sees is an unfamiliar scrap of fabric on the bed beside her—and when she breathes in his scent on the cloth it is almost as if he is there with her.

[bytebun]

.

[jesstrel]

@sobekcrocodile Thank you my love

"you have to love yourself first" WRONG. find love in companionship and connection