#Victorian Crescent Moon

[blistexenthusiast]

good night keys

[rabbitpaws]

Harvest Moon Green Tassel Gold Celestial Talisman Earrings ✨️

Featuring large brass moon face stars that dangle green suede tassels from u-shaped connectors. Frosted glass crescent moons are suspended in the center of each earring. The hooks are gold plated

They hang 3.5 inches

Made with nickel free materials

Buy them here

[gemville]

Antique Victorian 18k Gold, Opal and Diamond Crescent Moon Brooch, Circa 1900

2.30 CTW Opal Cabochons

0.26 CTW Diamonds

Source: laurelleantiquejewellery.com

[holmmadetreasures]

Moonlit Wisteria

Overlay Mosaic Crochet (Pattern Only) designed by me and found in my Etsy and Ravelry shops!

[outlawempress]

Night Queen via the vintage angel  

[eriebasin]

An exceptional, museum-quality Victorian-era crescent brooch with twinkling rose cut diamond stars and a hand-enameled man-in-the-moon profile. Built in bloomed 14K yellow gold. Not marked but probably American. Dates to c1890.

(online)

[ladyloveandjustice]

Yuri Manga for New (AND Not-So-New) Readers

I was talking on discord about some good yuri for beginners, and figured I'd repost here.

I get way more detailed some of these recommendations in this post, and there's great recs from another person too! Check it out!

I'm doing this accounting to various tones and tastes, so what works as a beginner yuri for one person might not for another, just read the info to figure out what your jam is.

I'll put a star by the ones about adults (which is the majority of them) since I've found that's always something people want.

Goodbye my Rose Garden (Victorian yuri w/ beautiful art, just beautiful all around)*

How Do We Relationship? (messy adult relationships and lots of actually realistic intimacy)*

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat- (A woman loves to cook but doesn’t have a huge appetite, only to find the woman next door to her does! She cooks for her and they really start to bond over food and the trials of being working adults. Yes, this is the one where the woman googles lesbian. It's really good)*

Bloom into You- a common go-to yuri for beginners for a reason, about a girl who believes she can't fall in love meeting a girl who wants to date her specifically BECAUSE she can't fall in love. Find out more about it and hear my thoughts here. It has a gorgeous anime that doesn't cover the complete story.

Doughnuts Under the Crescent Moon (sweet office lady romance, ace rep) *

Catch These Hands! (These two women were delinquents and rivals in high school, they meet up again, one reveals she was always into the other, she challenges her to a fight on the condition that if the other woman loses she'll date her. Lots of slapsticky fun and great for any lover of girl delinquents)*

Run away with me, Girl (there's some abuse shown in this one, but it's a story about healing, the premise is these girls dated in high school, but one of the pressured herself "normal" and marry a man, that man turns out to be abusive, so when the former lovers reunite, they decide to run away together. It's got beautiful art and a well done story)*

The Moon on a Rainy Night (absolutely spectacular, explores the relationship between a hard of hearing girl and her closeted classmate, the characters are complex and the writing is so good!)

Kase-san And...- Starting with Kase-san and the Morning Glories, this is a very fluffy and sweet high school romance. It also has a short movie. (as the manga goes on they become college students, too)

The Two of Them Are Pretty Much Like This (slice of life about a voice actress and anime screenwriter who live together as a couple. Unfortunately the ending is a bit abrupt (and likely premature) but I love their relationship)*

My fave Otherside Picnic is great for scifi and (mild) horror lovers. It's Scifi creepypasta adventure yuri. It's a slow burn but does truly spectacularly deliver on the gay. Has an anime, it's not great, you should start with the novels. Wrote an article here. https://www.animefeminist.com/how-otherside-picnic-masterfully-uses-horror-to-explore-abuse-and-show-healing-queer-love/ *(v young adults, college students)

The Guy She was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All: (A web manga about a girl who works at a record shop. Her classmate , Aya, wanders in but doesn't recognize her because she has her hair hidden with a hat and is wearing a face mask, and Aya assumes she's a guy. They bond over music and slowly start to get closer...and Aya's finds her heart is fluttering not only over this mysterious boy, but her female classmate that seems a lot like him...) It's going to get a physical release soon.

I Married my Best Friend to Shut My Parents Up (girl and her friend get married simply so her parents will stop bugging her about being single. You can probably guess where it goes from there) *

I Married my Female Friend (similar premise, except no parents involved, it's a platonic marriage they both agreed to with the promise they'll divorce if one of them falls in love. But one woman has decidedly not platonic feeling for the other that she's hiding from her, so It will likely turn romantic, it hasn't all come out here yet so I haven't finished it)*

Monthly in the Garden with my Landlord* (it didn't really hit with me but I might give it a shot again, it's solid despite the terrible title, a woman moves into a house and finds she'll be cohabitating with an idol) (Some more titles I haven't fully read that could appeal: After Hours*, Still Sick*, Cheerful Amnesia*)

My Cute Little Kitten (two roommates adopt a cat...and maybe fall in love?)*

I think all of those work as solid intro- though it does depend on what flavor you're looking for!

This article also covers some of these recs and some manga I didn't mention due to not having completely read it. so check it out: The Beginners Guide to Yuri Manga.

Here's some titles to try when you're a little more familiar with yuri (or you can try them now! I'm not your boss!)

SHWD (action yuri that's taking forever to come out over here physically, featuring extremely muscular women fighting monsters. I think it was forced to end prematurely too)*

Kiss and White Lily for my Dearest Girl: (I'm only three volumes in, but it's really enjoyable. The main storyline is about two academic rivals, where one is determined to rank first in class, and the other is an effortless genius who becomes intrigued at the possibility of someone beating her. Honestly they have the kind of messy combative sexual tension I wish we'd see more often in yuri because it's so good. The story follows other couples too. However, big warning for some nonconsensual kisses in the first volume at least).

Sweet Blue Flowers/Aoi Hana- (This one is a little bit dated, and boy is the ending weirdly paced, but a lot still holds up imo. A painful and sweet coming of age tale, it also has an anime that's good but ends too soon.

One teenage characters backstory involves incestuous (older cousin) the perpetrator of which pulls the "oh no did I turn you gay? thing" but it's definitely framed as a bad thing. )

Yuri is My Job- a story about messy lesbians in a yuri-themed cafe, and how their real relationships differ from the personas they put on. Read more about it here. Big warning for sexual assault of a minor (by an adult villain) in volume 12. Has an anime covering early material.

[muuuumin]

I know people liked the idea of Victorian Era Jaytim but someone mentioned Regency period and thats when Pride and Prejudice is set in, WE HAVE TO GIVE JASON HIS HAND SCENE. (Iykyk but HERE)

Timothy Drake-Wayne despised the ball parties his guardian would hold on a weekly. Duke Wayne was a good father and definitely earned the favour of the public when he took in the orphaned son of the Drakes, but he could seriously take a break with the noisy gatherings of flute glasses, giggles and a socialising that would most likely tire Timothy out within minutes of conversation.

Which was why he was currently hiding in the corner of the ballroom, shrinking back into the delicate wallpaper as best he could.

"You know, if you're trying to blend into that godawful wallpaper, you should have dressed in a lighter shade."

Tim's head whipped up from his cradled flute of champagne, blue eyes landing on a man grinning at him with a chuckle. He had on a top half of a startling dark red mask, his strong cut jawline exposed and giving highlight to the shape of the man's face. But Tim found his streak of white hair that fell handsomely over his forehead to be most attractive.

The young Earl cleared his throat when he realised he had been staring instead of giving an appropriate answer just as his Mother made sure to integrate into his education.

"And what shade would you suggest, Sir?" He glanced back at the patterned wall. "Ivory and gold for the accents or perhaps if I stood in front of the painting, I could wear pink and green." His voice was utterly fake and not missed by the other man.

He saw his green eyes glance at the painting he had mentioned, lips pulling into a quick smirk.

"As much as I'd desire to see you in the colour of a blushing rose, I rather like you in the darker shades." The man leaned in a little closer, as if telling Tim a secret. "It's much easier to hide in the night, don't you think? No one would know if we were to slip out to the gardens."

Another grin, and another skip of Tim's heart.

"Lord Todd." Timothy gave him a half hearted glare to warn him, his eyes flickering across the people that surrounded them, but luckily were not paying attention to the young gentlemen in a corner.

"Must you be so formal? Timothy, my love."

Jason whispered the last two words, the intimacy of the name bringing colour to Tim's cheeks. He was glad this was a masquerade ball, it would be utterly scandalous if he was caught blushing from the words of Lord Jason Todd, the Baron of Gotham's underbelly. It was the gossip of the whole city when Jason had been cast away from Wayne Manor and for years he was presumed dead, until the night he swooped in to gain control of land and businesses that had been corrupted. It was whispered that he had used methods that would usually warrant arrest but the elites of society benefitted from his erasure of the criminals so they kept quiet and allowed him into a higher society. He still had some influence as a past Wayne.

"Come, let us go and enjoy the night. Away from society." Jason whispered again, filling Tim's heart and soul with promises he knew he would keep. He gave a small nod and watched as his secret lover melted away into the crowds, slipping outside by himself to avoid attention.

Timothy waited a few seconds, that was all he could give before he followed Jason, heart in his throat as he ignored the pointed look from Duke Wayne from across the room and successfully stepped outside. His feet hurried to the gardens, thankful that the hedges were tall and the moon was only a crescent moon.

"Jason?" He whispered, listening for the sounds of leaves. His eyes darted around as he travelled deeper into the gardens, huffing a little when he realised Jason had purposely left him to find him.

Timothy finally found Jason at the corner of the maze, waiting patiently with his arms crossed over his chest. Tim took a small gulp as he stood a bit away from him, both pair of eyes assessing the other and filled with a dangerous desire. His slender fingertips slowly reached up, removing his own sleek red mask from his face. When it fell to the ground, he swore he heard Jason take a sharp intake of breath, blue eyes shyly looking up at him again.

"I love you in red." Jason said, his voice low and almost a groan.

Tim let out a light laugh, hiding it behind his hands. "Is that all?" He asked in a teasing tone.

Jason stepped forward, his arms now falling to his side. "No." He answered.

Tim waited with his breath held.

Jason's fingers reached out to gently hold Tim's hand, thumb smoothing over the back of his hand as if touching silk. Tim felt like he was never going to breath again, blue eyes wide as he looked at Jason, his own green eyes casted downwards as he tilted his head forward.

Jason brought Tim's hand up to his lips, kissing the lengths of his fingers so lightly Tim wondered if this was a dream.

"I love you, everything about you. Most ardently."

[httpstes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Random things that remind me of Venus in Water signs <33 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

: ̗̀➛ Cancer venus

Moon goddess, white cupcakes, soft makeup, pastels, twinkling stars, ball gowns, sleeping beauty, Bridgeton, velvet dresses, aurora borealis, moonstone, labradorite, ex lovers, childhood crushes, historical events that for some reason bring you a lot of nostalgia, warm cardigans, rosy cheeks, plump lips, angel wings, tattoos that are aesthetically pleasing but also have some rlly deep meaning behind them..in saying that probably has tattoos that are related to their loved ones, mini skirts, crescent moon, autumn leaves, picnics in the park, constantly getting hit by nostalgia then crying about your childhood, sad/serene resting face, calm river flow in forests, doll eyes, cathedrals, atonement, victorian homes and decor, mid-western gothic towns, struggling to live in the present because you’re in a constant state of reminiscing on the past, red and white candles, love spells, love sick, Ludus (playful love) and Agape (love for everyone), learning that unconditional love has its consequences.

: ̗̀➛ Scorpio venus

The mystics, love magick, killer smile, captivating love, people are addicted to you and the way you love, possession, the goth kids from southpark 😭, the hot detective in crime/horror films, small snowy village, probably went through a creepypasta phase, alex g, rlly cool piercings, coraline, uniquely shaped snowflakes, ending up on the scary side of Ao3, twitter, tumblr on multiple occasions, whimsigothic clothes, bela lugosi's dead, american horror story, finding solace in painful memories, joe goldberg (derogatory), exploring abandoned buildings, dark crystal, Evanescence, religious imagery, cathedrals, questionable taste in people, alluring eyes, creepy cute dolls, interest in the paranormal, sirens and pixies, deftones, obsidian, malachite, lavenders, twilight, overgrown houses.

: ̗̀➛ Pisces venus

shells, frozen lakes, Falls for the wrong people, likes the idea of light and dark energy.. yin and yang.. opposites attract type of beat, gives out too much love, normally the medic or healer in video games, always there for moral support, grandfather clocks, mermaids, poison tree by grouper, randomly remembering early childhood memories, angel numbers, spiritual/astrological tattoos, auras, maladaptive daydreaming, falling for the idea you create of people, kogal gyaru or Himegyaru, snails or turtles both seem very wise :), castles, the backrooms LMAO, angels, water lilies, american horror story (specifically the coven and hotel season), ENA, blindly following a cult or being the cult leader, playing in an empty park, rainbows, cottages, persephone and hades, blue lace agate, aquamarine, mazzy star, the cure, koi fish.

<<Hello everyone sorry for my long hiatus! It has finally come to an end!! School has already started for me so I’ll try post once a week however that’s just me saying shit and it’s not guaranteed 😭 I hope everyone has been doing well :))>>

[correlance]

Are you really a Charlastor or Radiobelle fan if you've never created a fan child for Alastor and Charlie? (joking)

Anyways, here's Lucille Morningstar, or "Lucy" for short, the fan daughter for Alastor and Charlie that my best friend and I came up with. We both agreed that Alastor would probably be a better "girl dad", and I wanted to design a daughter for them that looked a lot like Charlie, but still had distinctive traits that came from Alastor. As for crescent moon-shaped cheek marks and hair, those were inspired by Queen Celena the Shy from Star vs. the Forces of Evil (SVTFOE):

I also wanted to put her in Charlie's 1930s outfit from the pilot, and also give her pink hair, because of course Charlie and Alastor's daughter would have "cotton candy hair", given Charlie is...Charlie.

A few other details:

"Lucille" (Lucy) was #85 in the Top 100 names for girls (1930s). It is a play on the nickname for Charlie's father (Luci, or "Lucifer").

Lucy has Alastor's teeth, but only shows them when she wants to intimidate others. (Aunt Rosie taught her how to do that.)

Her horns are sometimes mistaken for goat horns, since they are relatively small, and often covered by her hair, and also because Charlie has goat hooves. Lucy doesn't mind being a "goat demon".

She is a literal "strawberry blonde" in terms of hair color and tone.

Lucy has blackened fingers, which she usually covers with gloves.

Her mouth and eyelashes resemble those of Lilith, Charlie's mom.

Since Aunt Rosie helped raise Lucy, she wears a lot of "vintage" clothing, ranging from the Victorian era to various other decades. She tends to be very "fashionable", and became a fashion designer, operating under the label "Roebuck Design" (i.e. Sears & Roebuck). ("Roe" and "buck" are both deer-related terms.) Velvette thinks her designs are "outdated"; Lucy points out "vintage" fashion trends often cycle back into popularity.

Lucy likes growing out her hair long for styling, and Alastor would carefully comb and brush out her hair when she was growing up.

Alastor also taught her sewing and tailoring when she was a child, and allowed her to practice on some of his older and torn clothes.

Since both of her biological parents have red blood, so does Lucy.

Her ideal voice actor is Susan Egan (Megara, Rose Quartz, etc).

[allaboutrings]

Victorian 14k Gold Rose Cut Diamond Crescent Moon and Cross Ring

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 28. Smirk (*)

Aesop finds his sweetheart made a little list about himm. About the various way he smirks at her, that is.

a/n: I *may* have cheated slightly with this one, as the list has existed for a few months at this point, but it is what it is 😅Also, the dressing table is my little nod towads the ruling queen of drawing backgrounds and victorian furniture in general, Cress ��

chapter specific tags: 15+!, established relationship, sexual themes

relationships: aesop sharp x reader

28. Smirk (0.9k)

tw: sexual themes (mentioned heavily), age difference (reader is an adult)

In Aesop’s defence, the first thing on his mind as he approached his sweetheart’s open diary was to close it and put it back into one of the drawers of her dressing table where she usually kept it. It was not like the two of them kept any secrets from each other (apart from little romantic surprises and presents, of course), but reading a partner’s personal diary without their explicit consent was still a massive breach of privacy in Aesop’s opinion.

And yet, when he finally reached the open journal, he paused. He didn’t mean to peek, but found himself rather unable not to read on when he caught a glimpse of the title of her apparently most recent entry.

‘List of Aesop Sharp’s Smirks’

Under the title was indeed a list of ten points. The potions master’s hand twitched, but wouldn’t move to close the diary. His eyes read the first few points:

We're going to have ourselves a good night.

Come have some fun into my chambers.

He couldn’t stop his lips from forming into a small grin. He couldn’t deny it - he was growing very interested in the rest of the list. Maybe he could chance reading it quickly. It was innocent enough, a little list his sweetheart made for fun. He could beg for forgiveness later.

3. How would you feel about some less-than-innocent activity

4. I'm going to make your toes curl tonight.

Oh, alright! Now we’re getting to the more fun ones. He wondered whether he truly had ten ways of smirking at her when it came to the promise of a passion filled night (or day), and if so, how was she able to determine the meaning? He could admit that there was a way he smirked at her when he was in the mood for a more carnal kind of fun, but he had no idea his smirks had a scale!

5. You're going to moan my name like a prayer.

6. My back will bear the perfect imprints of your nails.

He bit his lower lip. He wouldn’t mind feeling the sting of her fingernails on his back again soon. Feeling them there, under his shirt, following his movements as he went about his day served as a sweet reminder, one that made a feeling of thrill course through his veins, even as he did completely mundane things, like hand out pop-quizzes. His back already bore small scars shaped like small crescent moons, and they were his pride and joy. Maybe he could try to replicate smirk number 6, soon...

7. You'll later be embarrassed from just how wanton your screams were.

8. You'll beg me to destroy you.

Wouldn’t be the first. With a smile, Aesop remembered the various nights during which she did beg him to go harder, faster, deeper, tears rolling out of her eyes. She was so beautiful when she submitted to him completely like this, when she let him manhandle her to his own pleasure, arching against him, clinging onto him for dear life. Of course, even when he did get rougher, he always made sure she reached the peak of her pleasure, preferably several times.

9. You won't be able to speak within the next 24 hours from how much I'll make you scream

Again, not the first. The potions master grinned smugly. Edging, and subsequent overstimulation made his sweetheart release cries that neither of them thought her capable of making. Aesop loved it, though, and he wanted to hear more. Poor darling, she nodded off in exhaustion right after he was finally done with her. Luckily, he always had some potion for a sore throat ready for her in the morning. Among other potions for different sore things. Occasionally for the two of them.

10. You're not leaving the bed for the following two days. Not that you'd be able to.

Hm… Well, he wasn’t aware of this smirk. That is, they did spend a lot of time in bed together, but two days straight? As proud as Aesop was of his stamina, he wasn’t sure he had enough of it for two days. Only one way to find out, he supposed.

“Ace?” came her voice from the door, and the potions master jumped in surprise. Panic filled him as he saw her standing at the door. However, instead of looking mad that he just read an entry in her diary, a small smile played upon her mouth. Nevertheless: “I-... I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, but…” “It’s alright. There’s nothing secret in there. It’s just a little way to clear my head.” 

She walked towards him, and he silently handed her the journal. She chuckled as she realised what her sweetheart just read

“I was just wondering about number 10,” Aesop said carefully, still feeling slightly embarrassed for having been caught red-handed. “Oh, 10 hasn’t happened. Yet,” she said nonchalantly as she stored her diary away into the dressing table. “Any plans to make it happen?” he asked then, a sly smile finally coming back to his face.

She turned towards him, extending her hands for him to hold. He instantly took hold of them and pulled her closer: “Nothing set in stone, but I don’t doubt there will come a time. What else are honeymoons for?” Aesop laughed softly, before pressing a small kiss against her mouth. And then - he smirked.

“Ooh, trying number 5 on me, are we?” she teased, grinning back at him.

“What? This is number 6, loud and clear! I should know, it’s my own mouth!”

“It’s number 5, trust me. This is a scientific list, tested and confirmed, while it is your mouth, it is I who sees it.”

“Oh, just kiss me, you impossible woman.”

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ❤

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[which-item-poll]

[neblina-magico]

Sleeping In The Sun

(Chapter 4)

You were desperate for a job so you applied to be the daycare Attendants handler! you have no clue what you're signing yourself into but at least you don't have to pay rent now!

Moon hates you, Sun doesn't know how to feel about you and you're just trying to survive.

--—————————————————————————

“Now who might you be Starlight”

You suck in a breath pressing the star pillow close to your chest, your eyes wide in panic. The voice was deep and ominous, menacing, and quiet. You feel your face grow cold and a shiver trails down your spine.

You breathe slowly, quietly as if that helps you seem smaller, and saves you from any danger.

“Saw you talking to Sunny and thought ‘Why not see you with my own eyes’ and well here I am!” The deep raspy voice says with a laugh. You close your eyes sucking in a breath, trying to ease yourself at least a little. With trembling hands and only a piece of confidence left in you, you open your mouth.

“Wh— He–!” Your voice barely comes out in a whisper, most of what you said sounded more like squeaks than anything else. You collect some fabric of your pants into a fist, red and gray fill your insides burning yet chilling you at the same time its like a fire pit building up at your chest yet at the same time there's ice cubes running along your stomach and back.

You hear a giggle, a chill overcomes your entire body. You feel lengthy cold fingers wrap around your waist, you suck in a sharp breath, your breathing becoming slow and shallow as the figure turns you around to face them. You come face to face with a two toned shirt, half in black and the other in white with black buttons, the pillow that once resembled a star looks more like a squashed water balloon. You try to suppress your fear as the figure bends down to meet you with its glowing red eyes, the kind you'll only see in nightmares or nightly hallucinations. They pierce into you seemingly reading into your soul, as the figure looks into your eyes the crescent moon face smiles widely.

“What beautiful eyes, it's easy to see your fear through them” Moondrop. Your throats dry, your chest feels tight, restrained and toyed in bondage. You sigh telling yourself that there's no point in living with this fear, that the past doesn't have to continue affecting you years later. Perhaps it's best to slow down, take a step back and rethink this situation. As far as you know Moondrop probably just wanted to introduce himself, hopefully.

“You look like a wanna be Moon for The Legend of Zelda '' you mumble looking at Moondrop in the eyes, you probably would have survived the Victorian Era honestly. A blank stare looking back at another blank stare. You pull the most awkward nervous smile you can conjure up and start slowly backing away towards the exit of the place.

“Where are you going? Don't think you could leave after saying something like that!” Moondrop says making his way at you. ‘Though this conversation ended the moment it started’ you think to yourself as you continue out of the nap time place thing.

“I think…yes” you say making a run across the daycare, in your rush you spot Sun playing with some cubes, stacking and unstacking them. Hearing your loud footsteps, he turns his head to look at you as you rush past him giving a smile and wave goodbye.

Needless to say he was confused by your theatrics till he followed where you came from and saw Moon standing at the entrance of the naptime tent holding the star pillow you were once holding. Well it doesn't look much like a perfect star, more like a deformed one, though that's nothing they can fix. They both look at each other with a shrug going back to what they were doing before you came in.

You push open the doors from the daycare, letting them close behind you as you try your hardest to catch your breath. Feeling your neck burn up and feel the dryness that built up in there, your heart hitting your chest like a punch with each intake.

“What the FUCK was that, What the Fuck was that.” your voice breaks from the heavy breathing. Catching your breath you stand up right and walk towards the door off to the side marked with the “Staff Only” label. Taking your security card out from your pocket you tap it on the handle and open the door. Walking past the little staff lounge area and to the elevator hidden near the restroom swiping your card again the elevator door opens. There's only one way the elevator goes and that's dowwwwwwwwwwwwn.

Sighing you lean on the railings of the elevator feeling the constant state of fear and running catching up to you physically. Felling i wash of blanket like weight drap over your shoulders and eyelids, a lot had happen in so little time and with you state of panic you had allowed time for your brain and body to connect properly. Now youre paying for it through sheer exhaustion. Youre aware its a natural response but even so it never gets old.

The elevator door opens and you walk into youre new home, leaving your shoes at the entrance you drag yourself into you room. Its beautiful with all the space imagery but in you tired state you simply walk over to the closet and unhook some soft pajamas while thinking of something simple to eat. In your fresh gear you walk to the kitchen, preparing some yogurt with cereal and stand there at the counter eating.

You wash the dishes, your brain feels empty, the only things in there are thoughts of the events that happened. It felt to fast, too fast.

“Fucking wannabe zelda moon and his fucking freaky red ass eyes and his assery of a colourful personality” You mumble to yourself washing the bowl and spoon that yiu used to eat. On your way to the bedroom you keep mumbling, “pinche luna, jackass” nonstop.

You turn off the light, lifting the very nice and soft blankets from the bed and sliding into the bed. You let out a relieved and deep sigh feeling the soft blankets caress your body, comfort hitting you at an instant.

“I hope the sun rises and the moon sets nicely, tomorrow will be better” you whisper to yourself as you slip into some much needed sleep.

Tomorrow will be better

——————————————————————————

Haven’t posted in a while, sorry for the really late update life’s been wild. Hope you enjoyed Chapter 4 of Sleeping In The Sun

[revasserium]

I'm being a rebel and requesting Ikesen Masamune and barefoot 💜

send me one and a character u__u

hurricane (prompt: barefoot)

masamune; 1,813; fluff and... that's it; @violettduchess is quite possibly one of the only ppl who can get me to write for a fandom that i had no plans in joining BUT HERE I AM FOLKS. here the fuCK i am.

he has always been a hurricane.

there are moments in a person’s life big enough for a single choice to put them on a completely different path, and then — there are those moments, much smaller moments, adding up to that one, bigger, monumental, life-changing moment. this is one of the latter.

the moon is heaven bright, swinging low in a full-bellied sky, and insomnia had plagued you till you’d come into the inner gardens for refuge. at least here, it felt like you were stuck between the pages of a waking dream. so… sleep-adjacent, right? right.

you swing your feet off the edge of the pristinely mopped wooden walkways, your sketchbook propped in your lap, a charcoal pencil gliding over the smooth, moon-bleached pages. you let your hand take the drawing where it wants, and these days, there’s only one place that your hand (and, subsequently the rest of your mind and body) seems to want to go.

masamune.

he appears as fish-tail flicks of your wrist bring him to life on the pages, each sketch fluid and overlapping with the next, almost like the depiction of dance — the crinkle at the edge of his eye, the curve of his hand as he rests it on the hilt of one of his blades, the strong, graceful slope of his shoulders and back, the crescent moon curve of his lips as he smiles, ever light, ever teasing, in your direction.

“ah… is that what i look like?”

his voice makes you jump, and even now after all this time, it sets your heart racing in your chest as you whirl around to find his nose inches from yours, that self-same smile hinged across his damnably gorgeous lips.

“w-wh — why aren’t you sleeping?” is your stumbling, cobbled together response to being jump-scared in the middle of his castle pagoda, but it’s the best you could come up with. he only leans back, chuckling, his arms tucked into the long thin sleeves of his kosode as he casts his eye up towards the full moon, his expression for once devoid if mischief or calculation. it’s strange, seeing him like this, so still and so quiet, and something about it makes you go still too, wondering if this is what its like to be caught in the eye of the storm, where the quiet is only ever momentary and destruction dances just beyond where your mind can reach.

“i could ask the same of you, kitten. so tell me… why aren’t you sleeping?” he grins as he joins you, propping one arm on a bent knee, watching as you gather yourself, palms pressing to the pages of your sketchbook.

“i… i couldn’t sleep.” you look down at your own knees, and it strikes you then that your feet are still bare. you can’t help glancing at masamune, and sure enough, his feet are bare too. no wonder i hadn’t heard him coming.

but something about this sets you off, the sight of his bare feet next to yours, and even though it shouldn’t be so tantalizing a thing — the flicker of bare flesh, the hint of skin unseen— you feel like one of those ancient victorian maidens, blushing at the sight of bare ankles.

you can’t help it; you start to laugh.

and masamune, sitting beside you, finds himself transfixed, held still by the sound of your laughter, pouring from you like rainwater from a stream. so clear and beautiful it sets his body arrack with shivers.

“what?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, “is there something on my face?”

at this, you pause, stifling your giggles with a hand pressed to your lips, and you look at him. your eyes meet, and not for the first time, you feel yourself falling into them — into him. even like this, his one blue eye is something of a miracle, a thing of celestial majesty. it wasn’t until you’d met him that you’d realized what blue eyes look like up close — up close, they are the shattered light of a millions stars, fractured and reformed and singing through a universe of endless dark to end up here, shining out from him and landing on you, and god — he’s looking at you like all those million, billion years of starlight had traveled the expanse of every galaxy just to look at you.

just to see you like he does now.

“no… there isn’t,” you say, whisper, more like, reaching out a hand to trace your thumb over the lid of his closed eye. he doesn’t push you away. instead, he leans in closer.

“then, what’s so funny, kitten?”

you simply shake your head, trying to swallow down your belly-full of laughter, your mind showing you a strobe-quick flash-forward of you trying to explain the concept of foot kinks and websites that cater to such 500 years in the future before deciding — no. alas, tonight is not the night you try to educate one date masamune on the intricacies of body part kinks. though no doubt he’d take it in stride. no — that thought too, you tamp down before you’ve the mind to follow it down into a deep, dark rabbit hole from whence you might never recover or be recovered.

“tell me, please…” he grins, a grin that is simultaneously plea and pleasure, and in it, you can hear the knife-sharp promise of desire, “i’d like to know if something other than me has the power to make you laugh so much.”

“it’s just —” you bite your lips, fighting for the words, “we’re both barefoot.”

he blinks. and you can tell that whatever he was expecting the answer to be, this is clearly not it.

you track the flitter of emotions as they dance in quicksilver steps across the planes of his face — surprise, confusion, amusement, all painted porcelain perfect on the dark of his brows, the faint twitch of his lips. finally, he settles on a sorted of muted bemusement as he cocks his head at you.

“and… do people of your time tend to sleep with socks on?”

“no, it’s just…” you blush again, unable to help yourself.

“just what?” his voice is light, and he is still.

you swallow, hard,

“just… it’s weird — i mean — it’s not like i haven’t seen anyone else barefoot before just… this was — you’re just — and i —” you trip over your words in a hurry and end up tumbling through into incoherence so fast all you can do to styme the flood is to clamp your mouth shut and pray.

oh god please… tell me this is a bad dream.

but when you open your eyes, masamune is still there, watching you with that singular eye of his, expression inscrutable. and still, he doesn’t move.

“so…” and finally, finally, the stillness breaks — he cracks it open like an eggshell, stretching himself out as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, lengthening till he’s splayed out over the gleaming wooden boards of the walkway, his face bathed in ghostly moonlight.

“i’m not the first man you’ve seen barefoot, hm? that is a problem.”

your mouth drops open and for a moment, you gape at him wordless and fish-like, and he laughs as he turns to look at you.

“tell me his name — i’ll have his head in the morning,” he says, in a voice so casually serious that for a moment you think he might actually mean it.

“masamune!”

and then, he’s laughing too, a big, bright, uproarious thing that shakes his entire body like the foundations of the earth. it is deep and rich and lovely, warm and sweet as sun-kissed honey. you let yourself be swept up in his laughter, dropping into silent giggles, and then something louder, letting your shoulder bump into his, your bodies finally touching and then —

there’s a flurry of clothing, a shifting of weights. you find yourself pulled into him, tipping towards him like inevitability.

your sketchbook lays forgotten on the walkway next to you as masamune holds you close against his chest.

“ah… i really don’t like that…”

an entourage of tingles frissons through your body at his words.

“don’t like what?”

“the fact that you’ve seen someone else barefoot before. it bugs me.”

you peer up at him, lifting your head ever so slightly from his chest. he’s looking at you, and the sunrise-blue of his eyes are shadowed with something darker now, something decidedly less innocent than just the thought of bare feet.

“then… what will you do about it?” you ask, feeling the heat of his body, the solidness of him, the rightness of you between his arms.

“hm… are you teasing me, kitten?” his voice is gravel and earthquake and you’re emboldened by the sound, by the way his pupil dilates, the black hole at the center of every galaxy — gravity made solid, made real.

“yes,” you breathe, leaning up like a dare and he meets you gloriously, his lips hard and pressing and soft and pulling. there’s a fire unspooling at the base of your spine, stoked by the heat and truth of him, so close, too close — you break apart gasping. he grins, lynx-like and wolfish as he grazes his teeth along the column of your throat.

“good,” he says, sighing into your flesh as you arch up into him, your fingers curling into his hair as he flips the pair of you over. he pulls you beneath him and he is storm and thunder, he is rain and wonder — he is water to your desert skies, the sunlit days to all your moonless nights.

and as he makes to rend you into pleasure, into nothing more than ache and belonging, he pulls back with a bone-deep growl, a sliver of hesitation, of self-preservation.

“are… are you sure you want this?” that you want me? the echo is not lost on you.

and it’s not the first time he’s asked you the question, and you have a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. but you reply as you had, once upon a time, in a distant, sun-drenched afternoon, when you’d been telling him about one of your favorite poems from your time.

you smile, tug him down for a kiss.

“yes,” you say, like you’d done on that long-ago afternoon, “i want you — i want this, masamune. because… I love you.”

“i will love you when you are a still day… i will love you when you are a hurricane.”

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: Good Omens

Author: Neil Gaiman

Rating: 1/5 stars

I picked this book up at the library because I remembered seeing a few positive reviews, but then I saw a bunch of negative reviews, and the implication that these books are somehow the shibboleth by which one may judge one's literary taste (or, indeed, that all right-thinking people must like these books) set me against them. (When I was in high school in the early '00s, for instance, I was harassed and threatened because my taste in books and music didn't conform to my peers' ideas of what people like me are supposed to like. I'm still quite sensitive about it.)

After a bit of procrastination I picked up Good Omens, having heard that it was odd in a good way. As it turned out, it was both good and odd, but it wasn't the kind of odd that I like.

What is it like? Well, it reminded me a bit of Turtle Diary -- that is, it has a great deal of odd detail, all used with an eye towards creating a vivid image. But where Turtle Diary managed this with a deft, artful touch, Good Omens is obsessive. In Turtle Diary you get "Four different forms of religious sign and symbol": the cross, the Star of David, a crescent moon, and a life raft. In Good Omens you get plant symbols and animal symbols and religious symbolism and religious symbolism based on every ancient and forgotten pantheon there ever was, and the name of every seraph and cherub and angel and demon to ever be mentioned in the Bible, and everything else. You get a whole list of band names that look like gibberish, because if there's one thing a demon ought to be named after, it's a band. Needless to say, this casts a long shadow, and every single line, and even every single sentence, is supposed to be not only vivid but also full of meaning and with some sort of cultural reference, even if the reference itself is nonsensical. And often, as in this example, it means that the line will be awfully goofy, no matter what the ostensible subject matter is.

I don't mind when the vivid detail is organized and aiming toward a particular effect, but there are a lot of minor quirks in the book's prose, without any discernible pattern. Sometimes it seems to be going for a style of Victorian dialogue, and then it'll go off on some digression about something that's supposed to be modern or some-or-other, or it'll switch to the conventions of head-hopping in modern fiction (the book's two protagonists, angel and demon, each get "perspective chapters" not just about their own thoughts but their own bodies and feelings), and then it'll jump back to a dialogue with no word-order changes and different sentence structure from the rest of the book, or to a form of prose that is clearly supposed to be a pastiche of classic literature, and then back to modern head-hopping, to make sure that you keep track of who's doing what to whom and what they're saying.

I kept waiting for the effect to reveal itself, and it never did. On the one hand, I can see that Gaiman was trying to do something like Anna Karenina, in which a cast of vivid and realistic characters is put through a sort of symbolic dance in a circus ring of the author's devising. A lot of people like Anna Karenina, and I think this is because Tolstoy gives his characters a lot of interiority and their relationships a lot of psychological weight. Gaiman also does this in one regard, but . . . well, what's the opposite of "psychological weight"? I think it would be "unreliable narrator," and Gaiman doesn't quite give that, but a lot of his characters seem unreliable, both in terms of their self-deception and in terms of his self-deception in painting a picture of them and their interactions. Gaiman has some skills as a writer (for instance, creating a sense of humor without playing for laughs), but those skills simply aren't enough to make him a good writer of the kinds of things that people like about his books.

More vexing, in a sense, than Gaiman's creative approach is his creative attitude. He seems to have no interest in coming up with original ideas about anything, except in the most superficial sense -- as a result, the book feels like a literary junkyard, filled with patches from books and myths and musicals and films and whatever else, unconnected to one another except by the fact that all of them come from the same junkyard.

This might be a lot more acceptable if it didn't run into the problem that one of the book's main characters is a woman who runs a bookshop, and this woman -- the owner of the world's single most well-stocked used bookstore, it seems -- talks in a weirdly specialized way about books that she read and enjoyed when she was 11, but, on the off-chance that her audience includes someone in her same age bracket, has to talk in the sort of generic awe- and wonder-pilled, "cool literature" style you might expect from the social media of a 13 year old who has never encountered anyone who doesn't appreciate literature.

There are two things about this that bothered me, one more than the other. The first is obviously an unnatural over-familiarity with these authors and their works, just as would be the case with the 13 year old in the example I gave. The other is the way Gaiman presents a woman as having read in depth and gotten something from a book in her past, even though she only actually mentions a couple of chapters, the plot of the book in question, and a general atmosphere -- which is more or less how I would talk about those books, if I had to talk about them at all. Oh, and I mentioned earlier the way Gaiman uses pop culture terms to refer to things from the past and the present. The strange thing is that he doesn't show any interest in the actual thing -- like, it's hard to imagine that anyone who actually knew anything about them would have said "Oh, you mean she's reading Colette and Poirot! How very stereotypical and appropriate of a woman!" -- which, I can't stress enough, is how Gaiman mentions these books.

I have no idea why this bothers me as much as it does, or why Gaiman seems to be inviting this kind of questioning in the first place.