#far more beautiful with the poetry

[limeade-l3sbian]

"for colored girls" was nothing more than black trauma porn from an unhealed man using black women as a proxy to express that lack of healing. on top of that, tyler perry has no sense of subtly (e.g. ANY of his movies/shows) so to him, to have such a dark movie with a literal rape acted out on screen and all the other bullshit he incorporated makes the movie and him as a writer "raw".

his version of "oscar worthy" and "deep" is tactless brutality in manners of visuals and dialogue. he thinks if he incorporates rape and molestation in every piece of media he puts out, this somehow defines him as a "raw artist". But without tact, grace, understanding, the ability to listen to anyone else but yourself, and avoiding partnership with other unhealed people (oprah), you have no business exploring (via storytelling) hells you yourself haven't even escaped. for your benefit, and for the audience you pander to.

of all the plays of black women, ask yourself why he chose the one with the most suffering.

[outstanding-quotes]

Frank O’Hara, “Mayakovsky”

[darcymercurialisunofficial]

How many languages do you speak?

Fluently? Six. Though technically, I know up to a total of twelve, as well as some variations in dialect. Some get far more practice than others.

[juliamccartney]

not to sound like an English Literature Student™ but it's wild how people still don't realize just how much poetry there is in rap music

[deepspaceclawstation]

I need to sink my teeth into a song is that normal

[cowskulls]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[gaypainsequalgainsamiright]

hear me out Teach would absolutely fuck with w.h. auden

[nightingale-prompts]

Talents -DC X DP prompt

The public is aware that each of the Wayne children are creatively gifted. It was almost expected. Richard Grayson was the acrobatic of course and no one was surprised but highly praised. So many parents began putting their children in gymnastics after seeing Dick's performances.

Jason Todd took up writing and published his own books at the age of 13. Poetry, anthologies, and historical fiction were the genres he favored. His books still remain on the best-seller's list, especially after his death. His poetry book "Blackouts" is an emotional journey of everyday tragedies and miracles of life. People would often quote lines from his poems after tragic events.

Tim Drake was more elusive. No one knew what he did until his name came up under a national photography award. His album called "The Shades of Gotham" was a contract between parties of the wealthy and the impoverished citizens of Gotham.

Cassandra Cain kept to herself constantly. No one knew what she did for years. People assumed that Bruce Wayne stopped forcing his kids to perform and others argued that she just didn't have any talents to showcase. All wrong of course. Cassandra posted one of her recent projects online which proved she was very talented. It was a beautiful scarf she was making for the winter. Cassandra was gifted with a talent for textiles. She knitted, weaved, and sowed many of the clothes she was seen wearing. It was no secret that some of the clothes the Waynes wore could not be found anywhere else but people assumed they had a tailor to make custom designs but no one knew it was Cassandra.

Damian Wayne did not lag behind his siblings as she quickly showed off his artistic talents. He's still young so he hasn't gone as far as opening his first gallery but one of his paintings has already been put in a museum. Some call it nepotism but art is subjective. The other Waynes disagree since they have hung every art piece Damian makes in their offices and home right next to Tim's photos.

Duke Thomas isn't one to show off too much. But he does go all out in his hobbies. He secretly takes after Jason in writing poetry and has been inspired by "Blackout" since he first learned to read. Duck related to it deeply. But along the way, he learned a different way to express himself. Kids on the streets of Gotham learned a bit of breakdancing and Duke was no exception. Duke is an accomplished dancer and has gotten a few competitions under his belt now.

Now that there is a new member of the Wayne family the public is waiting to find out what Danny Nightingale's talent is. Everyone knew that Waynes were creative but honestly, no one expected this. A play was announced at Monarch Theater and none other then Danny's names was on the ticket as the star.

[novy2sirius]

VENUS HOUSE CORE ©novy2sirius

🝮 more core posts: moon core // mercury core

🝮 trigger warning: s3x (only for 18+), venus in 5h men, stalkers/stalking

🝮 take these with a grain of salt since the entire chart matters. this isn’t a super serious post. it’s meant more so for entertainment

🝮 these are random things i’ve noticed these people seem to relate to and specific experiences i’ve seen multiple of them have before

𐚁 venus in the 1h

being told your whole life that you should be a model, being direct when you like someone/not being able to hide it, a main focal point in your life being romance, being a beauty symbol, being weirdly turned on when your crush gets mad at you, loving really passionately, enjoying being alone or just doing things on your own/being independent

𐚁 venus in the 2h

wanting to spend all your money on your bf/gf/theyf/themf, being a gold digger or coincidentally only falling for people that are wealthy, being a talented singer, being a fashion icon, having strong self worth, having good values, being a chronic shopper, being an extremely determined person, dating people who have strong self worth

𐚁 venus in the 3h

being extremely charming, being told you have a “flirty personality”, dating people you met on social media/a dating app, having a pretty/cute voice, having a crush on your neighbors as a kid, people always calling your siblings hot, loving poetry, being the only person you know who actually enjoys school, loving romantic novels, being a good communicator, wanting for there to be fairness in arguments, having a nice car, having a crush on your uber driver

𐚁 venus in the 4h

your mood being dependent on how good you look, not enjoying s3x unless there’s an emotional connection formed between you and the person prior, finding out that someone had a crush on you for years after they stop having a crush on you because they waited too damn late to tell you, your inner child coming out around your partner, people crushing on your mom, people being jealous of your family, people being jealous of your house, having a baby/childlike voice

𐚁 venus in the 5h

having really pretty hair and being complimented all the time on your hair, weirdly enjoying risk-taking activities, having similar hobbies to your lovers, your child-like spirit coming out around your lover, having flings and then ending up dating them, having beautiful children, being the life of the party, being really creative, BEING A GOD DAMN PLAYER.. sorry the men that have this always fuck me over apologies ✨

𐚁 venus in the 6h

getting the ick from guys/girls/thems easily, being super picky about who you date, one of your dealbreakers in relationships being not showering every day, falling in love with your coworkers, loving animals more than humans, acts of service being your love language, being really good at giving advice, judging others but only to help them improve because you love them

𐚁 venus in the 7h

being conventionally attractive, your best friend fucking your bf/gf/theyf/themf, people always thinking you have a crush on them/someone else when you very obviously don’t, having really pretty hair and being complimented all the time on your hair, enemies acting like they hate you but secretly being in love with you, having jealous partners, being extremely charming

𐚁 venus in the 8h

being told “you’re so shy omg” when you’re literally just existing, people always thinking you have a crush on them/someone else when you very obviously don’t, always falling for the “bad boys/girls/thems”, being stalked by your ex, dating/marrying rich people, finding out that someone had a crush on you for years after they stop having a crush on you because they waited too damn late to tell you, having a seductive aura, being obsessed with romance

𐚁 venus in the 9h

having a bunch of long distance relationships, having a crush on a bunch of people that live far away from you, finding people outside of your culture more attractive, forming beliefs based on your lovers/crushes opinions, changing your beliefs based on the people you admire, loving astrology, loving spirituality, having a crush on tv characters more than people you actually have met in real life

𐚁 venus in the 10h

being known for your beauty or the people you date, dating/marrying successful people, your career involving things you love or the arts, falling in love with your bosses or coworkers, only crushing on famous people, being admired by the public, everyone having a crush on your dad, leaving behind a beautiful legacy after passing

𐚁 venus in the 11h

having a crush on the weirdest people, not being able to enjoy a show as much unless it has a ship (cute couple) in it, finding people outside of your own race more attractive, people wishing they looked like you, dating your best friend, dating people you met online, having a lot of attractive friends, having a lot of jealous friends, marrying wealth, being a chronic online shopper, being good at social networking

𐚁 venus in the 12h

being able to hide that you have a crush on someone really well, being ghosted after talking to someone for months, having to file a restraining order against your ex, being told “you’re so shy omg” when you’re literally just existing, not being able to enjoy a show as much unless it has a ship (cute couple) in it, finding out that someone had a crush on you for years after they stop having a crush on you because they waited too damn late to tell you, having an addiction to being in love, loving spirituality, having a crush on animated characters on tv more than people you actually know that are human

[solxamber]

How Not to Court Your Crush: A Disaster in Six Acts - Malleus Draconia x reader

You're trying to court Malleus so why is he acting so weird? Malleus is trying to court you, so why are you acting so weird.

aka you try fae courtship and malleus tries human courtship, you both fail spectacularly.

Scene 1: The Offering of... Chaos?

You were determined. Absolutely, one hundred percent determined to win over Malleus Draconia’s heart the fae way. You’d done your research—well, half-researched. You might’ve skimmed some books. Okay, maybe you watched some video where a guy talked about it for 10 minutes. But still! You were ready to tackle fae courting, head-on.

Which is why you were standing in the middle of the campus courtyard holding a potted mandrake. Because, according to some source (you couldn’t quite remember which), gifting rare plants was a surefire way to court a fae prince.

Unfortunately, no one told you that the mandrake in question would scream like a banshee as soon as you yanked it out of the dirt.

"Behold!" You shouted, thrusting the potted terror toward Malleus, who had appeared in his usual fashion—stealthy and majestic, like a dragon perching on a mountain. "A rare gift for the noble Prince of Briar Valley!"

The mandrake, in all its wailing glory, let out a soul-piercing shriek. Nearby students flung themselves behind trees and bushes. Sebek fainted. Silver, as usual, napped through the chaos.

Malleus blinked at you. Once. Twice. His face was a mixture of confusion and slight amusement. "Are you... trying to summon something?"

You frowned. "Summon? No! This is for you!" You held the screaming mandrake higher, like an offering to some ancient god. "As a... token of my appreciation! You like plants, right?"

The mandrake let out a final, particularly blood-curdling scream before going silent, wilting slightly in the pot. Malleus blinked once. Twice. “I... do like plants, yes. But usually... not ones that wish to harm me.”

You grinned, proud of your extremely thoughtful choice. “Well, this one just has personality!”

Malleus cautiously took the pot from you, staring down at the now exhausted mandrake. “Thank you,” he said, sounding unsure if you were joking or being sincere. “I’ll... treasure it.”

Somewhere in the distance, Ace and Deuce exchanged pitying looks. “Man,” Ace muttered, “he doesn’t deserve this.”

Scene 2: The Worst Poem Ever Written

Malleus had been doing his own research—much more thorough than yours, of course. He’d read books. Lots of them. Mostly ancient tomes from his castle library that were centuries old. After all, human courting customs couldn’t have changed that much, right?

His plan was foolproof: Humans enjoyed poetry. Therefore, he would craft you the most beautiful, heart-stopping poem ever written, and your affection for him would blossom like the midnight roses of Briar Valley.

He found you sitting under a tree near the school, probably recovering from your last spectacular fae courting attempt (the less said about the mandrake incident, the better). Malleus approached with all the grace of a dark prince, his black cloak billowing in the wind, carrying a scroll in his hand.

"Dearest," he began, as you looked up from your phone. "I have composed a poem for you. An ode to your beauty and grace."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes. Please, allow me." He unfurled the scroll dramatically.

You sat back, intrigued. This was either going to be a disaster or absolute gold. Either way, you were ready.

Malleus cleared his throat, then began to read with all the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor:

"Your hair, like the moss that grows on the oldest tombstones,

Your eyes, like the deepest, darkest, creepiest of wells,

Your voice, as soothing as the distant scream of a lost soul..."

You snorted. "What?"

"Your beauty is like the moon, that I can never reach, because it is in the sky... far away... and also made of rock." He paused, glancing at you hopefully. “Do you like it so far?”

You bit your lip, desperately trying not to laugh. "Um... It's... something. Keep going."

Malleus beamed. "There’s more!"

"Your hands, soft like the belly of a small woodland creature..." He continued, and you finally lost it, howling with laughter. “Is it not... moving?”

You waved your hands, barely able to breathe through your giggles. "Malleus! Are you... Are you serious?!"

“I thought humans liked dark poetry,” he said, looking genuinely concerned.

“Well, some do, but—” You stopped yourself, trying not to laugh. “No, wait, keep going. I want to hear more.”

Malleus, relieved, continued. “Your beauty is like the full moon—cold, distant, and surrounded by darkness.”

Somewhere behind a nearby tree, Lilia was biting his lip to stop from laughing, while Ace and Deuce shared looks of absolute pity for their friend and Malleus.

Ace shook his head. “Poor guy. He’s trying so hard.”

Scene 3: The... Ambush?

Since the plant-gifting thing didn’t go quite as planned, you decided that maybe a more public display of affection would be the ticket. According to something you half-remembered (and maybe misunderstood), fae really appreciated grand gestures of intent. So, naturally, you chose the school cafeteria at lunchtime as your stage.

As you climbed on top of a table, all eyes turned toward you. Malleus sat at a corner table, watching you with his usual calm, collected demeanor, but you could see the confusion in his eyes.

"Prince Malleus!" you shouted dramatically, lifting your arms in the air. “I declare before all of these witnesses that I shall offer this to you!”

The cafeteria fell into dead silence. Well, except for Lilia, who was quietly choking on his laughter in the background.

Malleus blinked, his expression unreadable. “You... what?”

"Yes! I offer you—" you pulled out the cabbage you’d swiped from the kitchen earlier—"this symbol of my devotion!"

Malleus stared at the cabbage in your hands. "Is that... a vegetable?"

“Yes! It’s a sign of fertility or... something.” You weren’t entirely sure, but it sounded right. “I picked it myself!”

Malleus blinked again, clearly trying to process this information. “I... appreciate the gesture."

Lilia butts in. "Beastie, I’m afraid cabbages aren’t typically used in fae courting rituals.”

You pouted, hopping off the table. “What? But I read that—"

“Perhaps... next time, try flowers?”

Behind you, Ace facepalmed. “Oh, man. They're hopeless.”

Scene 4: The Gift of... Dirt?

Malleus was now absolutely convinced that something was seriously wrong with you. You seemed... more chaotic than usual, and while he enjoyed your enthusiasm, he had no idea why you were suddenly thrusting vegetables at him.

In his effort to reciprocate (and maybe figure out what was going on), he decided to give you a gift of his own. A very special one. From his homeland.

After all, humans liked sentimental gifts, right?

That’s why, one morning, he approached you with a small velvet pouch in his hand, his face filled with sincerity. “Child of Man, I have something for you.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, curious. “What’s that?”

He handed you the pouch, and you opened it, only to find... dirt. Black, slightly glittery dirt.

You stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the dirt. “Is this... dirt?”

“Yes,” Malleus said proudly. “From Briar Valley. It’s a very special soil, infused with the magic of my homeland.”

You blinked. “You got me dirt.”

“Very magical dirt,” he corrected, as if that made it better.

You bit back a laugh, trying to keep a straight face. “Um... thanks?”

Ace, watching from a distance, nudged Deuce. “Man, They're gonna end up with a garden at this rate.”

Scene 5: The Unnecessary Duel

Clearly, you had been doing something wrong, because your attempts at fae courtship had been met with nothing but polite confusion. But you were nothing if not determined. The next step in your (completely misguided) strategy? Prove your strength in battle. Duh.

You marched up to Malleus one afternoon, sword in hand, and pointed it at his chest. "Malleus Draconia! I challenge you to a duel!"

Malleus blinked at you, clearly baffled. “A duel? With... me?”

“Yes!” you declared, brandishing the sword with a flourish. “I shall prove myself worthy of your admiration through combat!”

Malleus tilted his head. “You... wish to fight me?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! To the death! Or until someone taps out. Whatever works.”

Malleus looked utterly bewildered but amused. “I... see. But are you sure this is necessary?”

"Absolutely. I need to show you my strength." You tried to strike a dramatic pose, but the sword was way heavier than it looked.

Lilia, perched nearby, was barely containing his laughter. “Oh, this is too good.”

Malleus raised his hand. “Perhaps another time. I would not want to harm you.”

You frowned. “Harm me? Pfft. I’m tougher than I look, dragon boy.”

Scene 6: The Romantic Walk—Through a Thunderstorm

Malleus had one last idea. Humans, he’d read, liked romantic walks. That was simple, right? No vegetables. No poetry. Just a quiet stroll. What could possibly go wrong?

Unfortunately, he decided to take you for a walk through the forest on a day when the sky decided to unleash the full wrath of a thunderstorm. And because he was a fae, storms didn’t bother him.

You, on the other hand, were not a fan of being drenched to the bone.

The rain came down in sheets, lightning crackling overhead as you both trudged through the mud. You tried to keep your umbrella steady, but the wind whipped it inside out almost immediately.

“Malleus,” you called over the storm, shouting to be heard. “Why are we walking in this? Are you trying to drown me?”

Malleus, entirely unfazed by the downpour, turned to you, his face serious. “I thought a walk through nature would be a calming experience for you.”

You stared at him, your hair sticking to your face, clothes soaked through, and boots filled with mud. “Calming?! I’m about to be struck by lightning!”

He blinked, as if only now realizing the storm might be an issue for you. “Ah, I see. Humans are... more susceptible to storms. My apologies.”

“Ya think?” You huffed, clutching your now-ruined umbrella. “A ‘romantic stroll’ usually involves good weather.”

Malleus frowned, looking genuinely troubled. “I thought the power of the storm would inspire awe.”

“Yeah, it’s inspiring me to run back inside.” You sighed, shivering. “This is... sweet, I guess. But, uh, maybe next time we check the weather before planning any ‘romantic’ activities?”

As you struggled to wipe rain from your face, you caught a glimpse of Lilia again—he was standing under a tree, dry as could be, watching the scene unfold with glee. His mischievous grin practically radiated from the shadows.

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” you shouted toward him, but Lilia just waved, clearly loving the chaos.

Malleus, still deep in thought about his failed attempt at human courtship, suddenly looked serious. “Perhaps a different form of human bonding is needed next time.”

Behind you, Ace and Deuce were trailing a safe distance away, both dripping wet but trying to keep from laughing too loudly.

“Man,” Ace muttered, shaking his head. “They're gonna give the poor guy a heart attack one day.”

Deuce nodded solemnly. “Or he’ll get us all killed.”

After days of mutual confusion and failed courtship rituals, you found yourself, once again, sitting with Malleus in one of the school’s many quiet courtyards.

“Y’know,” you began, squinting at him. “I feel like you’ve been acting weird lately.”

Malleus gave you a similar look. “I’ve been thinking the same about you.”

You blinked. “Wait, me? What do you mean?”

“Well,” Malleus said, his brow furrowed, “you’ve been offering me... odd gifts. Vegetables. Challenging me to duels. Declaring intentions in public spaces. It’s... unusual.”

You froze. “That’s... fae courtship. I’ve been trying to... y’know...”

Malleus’ eyes widened. “You’ve been attempting to court me?”

Your face flushed. “Well, yeah! I thought you were acting strange, so I figured you were waiting for someone to, I don’t know, woo you.”

Malleus’ confusion quickly shifted to amusement. “I’ve been trying to court you this whole time.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re what?!”

“I believed you were in distress, so I attempted human courting rituals. Clearly, they didn’t go as planned.”

You both stared at each other for a long moment, the realization of mutual failure sinking in. Then, unexpectedly, you burst out laughing, and Malleus, after a moment, chuckled too.

“Well,” you managed between laughs, “we really suck at this.”

“Indeed,” Malleus agreed, his eyes warm with amusement. “Perhaps next time, we should... communicate better.”

“Yeah,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “That might help.”

From a safe distance, Lilia watched, his face beaming with pride. “Ah, young love,” he sighed dramatically. “How wonderfully chaotic.”

Ace shook his head, utterly done with the entire situation. “They’re hopeless.”

Deuce nodded in agreement. “At least it’s finally over... right?”

They're so stupid (affectionate)

Masterlist

[balteringanatidae]

As Beautiful as Poetry

pairing: spencer reid x english teacher!reader word count: 2.38k contents: first time fic writer!! mutual pining, spence and reader are oblivious, smoochin’, reader is described vaguely (feminine and eccentric)

Lately, Spencer had been spending more time at the library. Not to pick up any new books—these days, he’d been dwelling on past books he hadn’t checked out in a while—but to catch even a fleeting glimpse of you.

Of course, he wasn’t a stalker; he was an admirer. Plus, he didn’t just gawk at you from afar; he’d spoken with you a few times, and that was when he found out that you had the most precious voice ever.

The both of you had spoken enough to know each other’s names and what you did for work. You were astonished when you discovered he was an FBI agent. You weren’t one to make assumptions, but with Spencer, you did, and it was far off.

He hadn’t been too surprised to find out you were an English teacher. You taught gifted high school students—essentially; you were the teacher Spencer wished he had when he was twelve.

With your deep literature knowledge, you could give him recommendations of a few poets he’d never heard of, and in return, he recommended a few science fiction novels. Which opted for conversations the following weeks. The both of you exchanged reflections on the suggestions.

Weeks of conversing—eight weeks, Spencer counted—led nowhere. In chronological order, each conversation consisted of a greeting, small talk, book talk, accidental flirting, and, finally, an excuse to part ways. Spencer always left as a blushing mess, as if he hadn’t been like that in the beginning. And you left giggling to yourself; Spencer’s coyness made you feel warm inside. Did he only act like that around you?

Neither of you would call it a friendship yet, no matter how badly the both of you wanted to. Fleeting glances, brief greetings, and exchanged smiles weren’t a friendship. Neither of you could figure out how to initiate a closer connection without seeming desperate. Spencer was desperate.

Your eccentricity all but enchanted Spencer. You weren't a rebel or a rule breaker; you were simply you, and it was gorgeous. Gorgeous, you lit up each book you grazed, as if the most alluring aura followed you. It was inexplicable why idiosyncrasy was so attractive to him—your idiosyncrasy, perhaps.

He could never get enough of your outfits, which, oddly enough, reminded him of the fourth doctor, but that did nothing but encapsulate him more. His favorite doctor, and you, with the potential to be his favorite girl? He was in love with the mere idea. He could practically infer that is where you got your fashion inspiration from.

You were the perfect girl most contemporary authors wrote about, but real—oh, you were so real. You weren't designed to be loved by some protagonist who was the contrary to you. You were created to dote on those archaic poetry books you devoted time to—the ones you were just as beautiful as.

He could nearly smell a perfectly bloomed bouquet of flowers when you entered the library. He adored how you glided across the library floor gracefully, skimming through every shelf with precision. With each step, you seemed to move along to a silent cadence. Each click of the heel of your auburn boots—matching your recently dyed hair and portions of your multicolored scarf—graced his ears; he just knew you were around.

He stood in the informational text passage, picking out two physics books. He scanned through the first swiftly; he was familiar with most of the information in the text. He simply wanted an excuse to stay around longer, hopefully to bump into you.

He’d returned the first book to its fitting slot on the shelf, expecting someone else would learn as much as he did on his foremost read. He was now solely retaining the book he was certain he hadn't read yet.

As he strolled past the various aisles, spotting you in the ‘Poetry’ section, as per usual. You turned to him as his steps halted; a radiant smile graced your face, and you gave him a brief wave.

Smiling, you're smiling at Spencer.

He involuntarily smiled back; of course, he meant to, but his lips curled up before he tried to smile. He didn't even wave back; he was just moonstruck and stared at you as you turned back to the poems, picking one from a familiar name: Sir Walter Scott.

Spencer shortly came to his senses, and his smile sprinted away from his face. He watched you analyze the poem for a few moments before he tore his gaze away from you.

He’d see your pretty face another time.

He traveled to the back of the library, a space reserved for reading. A few old-timey chairs in a row and a lengthy, velvet sofa. He took a seat near the armrest; no one should sit near him, and he left more than enough space.

His book became a simple prop in his hands as he heard you start to read under your breath. The Lay of the Last Minstrel. This was nothing short of revolutionary to him. Your delicate voice reading each line, and he didn't recall them sounding so precious—not until you read it and he hung onto every word.

You were merely a foot away from him on the comfortable couch, and he could feel your aura from his own spot. That’s when his head spun to you, hardly discreet at all, but he’d presume you were too ensnared in the words before you.

Not stumbling over a word, you had been reading for ten minutes, in blissful ignorance of the man adoring you from a foot away. He yearned for nothing but to pick at that brain of yours. He’d already had a queue of queries on his mind:

Why did you choose that scarf?

Why did you choose that butterfly hair clip?

Why did you choose that poem?

Why did you choose to sit near him? Have you noticed how he looks at you?

You felt his gaze burning into the side of your head, and you felt as if he were scrutinizing you until your eyes met his.

Adoration. That’s all you could see; it's all you could feel. He practically had heart eyes for you right now. He knew he was caught, so he didn't even attempt to break his stare.

“I—” Spencer sheepishly chuckled, rubbing his bare forearm. “I was... lost in thought. I didn't mean to stare,” he lied.

You let out a barbed sound of understanding, and a small grin crept onto your face. You could see right through his lie, and it was almost endearing. “What were you thinking about?” You quickly placed your book to the side, giving Spencer your undivided attention.

He cleared his throat; the truth was in his mind, and suddenly he didn't feel worried about admitting it. “You,” he finally said. He closed the book, positioning it in his lap.

“I don't know you too well, and I want to change that… if you're on the same page,” he suggested, his gaze fleeting from yours as he fixed his glasses’ position.

You were silent, with your eyes wide, lips parted, and ready to speak. You wanted to scream ‘yes’ a million times as if he just proposed to you.

“If you're not, I entirely understand, and I don’t want to pressure you into—“ He began to ramble, but you prevented him.

“Spencer, I really like you, and I, too, want to get to know you better.” You offered him a bright smile, which caused him to reciprocate. You thought his smile was lovely.

“It is safe to say you're on the same page?” His voice teasing, but he couldn't lie that he needed more assurance. It was difficult to accept that you liked him.

“Absolutely,” you confirmed with a gentle touch to his shoulder, which he surprisingly enjoyed.

For the subsequent sixteen weeks, you and Spencer had established days you would meet at the library, typically on weekends when you were both free. It was seldom, but it was something, something more than what you had before.

Neither of you dubbed these rendezvous as ‘dates,’ but they entirely were. Spencer would wear cologne that Morgan gifted him a birthday ago, and you would wear more modest makeup that accentuated your natural beauty. The both of you yearned to impress each other.

Each time, you would feel that Spencer looked better than the previous time you two met. Spencer would believe that an angel touched you or that the gods had favorites, and you were one.

Occasionally, the dates would leave the library and follow into a coffee shop, where he would buy you pastries and a warm mug of coffee to subside the sensations of the frigid D.C. air. You would sigh in consolation as the warmth enveloped you like a thick blanket. Spencer would giggle at the precious view.

Soon, Spencer finally mustered up the intrepidity to invite you to his apartment. He insisted that it wasn’t a proposition, but you didn’t presume that initially. You knew what kind of man Spencer was—a gentleman.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” he murmured, there was a single cloth on the floor, “I held off on cleaning my apartment for a week, so I did it all today.”

You looked around; you deeply relished the atmosphere. It was amiable, and it nearly felt like home. Then you spotted his vast bookcase, and you wondered why he even visited the library. “It looks great in here, Spence.”

Spence. That was the first time you called him that.

“Thanks,” he attempted to sound nonchalant. “I really wanted to impress you, if it’s not obvious.” He stepped back, allowing you further into his living space.

“It is obvious,” you affirmed with a quiet giggle. You loved it. You loved how hard he tried to impress you, no matter how many times you told him it was unnecessary.

You walked around the flat, noticing a bowl of fresh fruit on the remote dining room table in front of the vase filled with your favorite flowers. Was it a coincidence? Candles encircled the vase, illuminating the puny space.

“This is too much, isn't it?” Spencer stepped beside you as you ate a sweet strawberry from the bowl, painting your lips a faint red. You shook your head; you thought it was perfect.

“I thought we were only gonna watch some movies or something of the sort, but I like this too!” You comforted him with a smile. You took another glance at the table, the fire of the candles shining in your eyes.

“I just wanted this moment to… be, uh, special.” He cleared his throat, trying not to stammer over his words again.

You wanted to save him the trouble and tell him you wanted to be his girlfriend right in that moment, but he tailored this moment just for the two of you. You wouldn't ruin it.

You turned to face him, taking his hands in yours as you sensed his nervousness. All he could do was nervously smile at you before he gathered up his courage.

“It’s been 112 days since our first ‘date,’ and I really like you,” he confessed, his voice anxious. “I would like for us to be exclusive, and I really want to call you mine.” He sighed; he’d already begun bracing for rejection when he set the dining table.

You gaped into his glossy hazel eyes, watching as they fluttered shut every few moments. You caught the way he nervously licked his lips as he waited for an answer.

“I’d really like it if you called me yours, Spence.”

He tilted his head to the side narrowly, quirking up an eyebrow at you. He was nearly confused by the fact that you didn't reject him.

“Really? I mean, that's not how I planned for this to go. Are you serious?” A smile crept onto his lips, hoping this wasn't a huge bit to break his heart.

“You expected me to reject you?” You practically pouted as he nodded. You rubbed your thumbs against his knuckles. “Spencer, I’ve been dropping hints for a while now, and I’m surprised it took this long for you to ask.”

He chuckled breathlessly, finally breaking eye contact as he shook his head. “Yeah, I noticed, but I thought that maybe I was perceiving it wrongly.”

You wished Spencer would look at you again; you needed to see your reflection in his glasses and how his pupils turned to hearts. His cheeks were painted a faint red; he wasn’t good at hiding his feelings. Of course, you loved his transparency.

“I’m just glad we could have this moment and that you didn’t reject me.” Spencer pulled his hands away from yours, his arms enveloping your waist hesitantly. He was frequently fearful you would be opposed to anything he did.

“If I rejected you, I think I'd regret that for the rest of my life,” you murmured fondly, your arms swathed around his neck. His eyes met yours nervously, his gaze examining each of your facial details.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” You spoke up; Spencer was already looking at your lips; he simply nodded and leaned in with you. His eyes flapped shut a few moments after you closed yours, and your noses bumped, spewing faint giggles from both of your lips.

Your lips adjoined with his for the first time, and neither of you wanted it to be the last. Your lips tasted like the strawberry you ate before; his lips curled into a smile at the flavor. He tasted like vanilla chapstick. You could devour his lips, but you had decency, at least for now.

You didn't count the seconds; you were too lost in his lips, but Spencer did. His mental stopwatch halted as soon as his lips parted from yours. Twelve seconds—a few nanoseconds away from thirteen—you two spent kissing.

His forehead pressed against yours, both of your breaths mingling as your eyes slowly opened. The sight was practically lethal. His eyebrows furrowed and lips were moist. Your stares met as his eyes eventually opened.

“Is it a good time to say I love you?”

“I don't think there's a bad time. I love you too.”

[kenobers]

is this love? | jason todd x sionis!reader

but first free palestine !! You started hooking with Jason Todd, the second eldest Wayne child, so that both of you could royally piss off your father, Roman Sionis. Now that you've accomplished that, you're still hooking up. And spending the night. Frankly, you are quite sure what this is anymore. But you know you like it. tw: Post-sex setting, brief description of sexual activity, reader has a lot of anxiety and was maybe homeschooled as a child, mentions of poor father-daughter relationships, fem!afab!reader a/n: Surprise, I like Jason Todd too. This was inspired by this ask on gliverrwrites' blog! In hindsight, it might've been kinda weird of me, but i couldn't get the concept out of my head. thank you to gliverr and anon! please check out their blog!

There was no greater "Fuck You" you could give your father than the sigh of satisfaction that escaped your lips as your head hit the pillow.

However, Roman Sionis and all his misdeeds had been wiped from your mind in favor of the man panting above you.

You were certain that there was no work of art more beautiful than Jason Todd at this very moment. His green eyes flashed before fluttering shut, no doubt following suit with his head as it rolled back. The shock of white hair had been made curly by sweat and the comb of your fingers. His mouth hung open and uttered a string of praises for you - although the only coherent words you could make out were "good" and "beautiful". Still, they passed like poetry through his lips, which were puffy and delightfully red from contact with your own.

It was so polite of him to let you cum first so you could witness this masterpiece. Even if it was through your own post-Jason haze.

Jason's forehead came to rest on yours as his hips stuttered against yours and an all too familiar warmth coated your thigh. You took the opportunity to brush wet black and white strands of hair out of his handsome face. His eyes peered open again as he caught your hand in his own. For a moment, you expected him to smack it away, but instead he brought your palm to his lips and kissed it.

"My beautiful girl."

Even when he had melted the rest of your naked body into jelly, he still managed to turn your stomach into butterflies.

Now he pressed a kiss between your eyebrows.

"Gimme just one second, baby," he panted before rolling off of you. You sighed again as cool air hit your sticky skin, however, an anxious knot began to form in your stomach as your lover disappeared into the bathroom.

What if he left out the window? What if you never saw him again? What if this was just a one time thing to get back at your father for the countless number of things he'd done to Jason's family?

But it would be incredibly silly if he did all this just to leave you in his apartment, especially considering this was far from the first time you'd slept together. Besides, wasn't the should-be-enemies-with-benefits what you had wanted this whole time?

You turned on your side to watch him in the bathroom, subconsciously rubbing the slick between your thighs together. Jason swore as his toe collided with something. You giggled as you realized it was his Red Hood mask, the gleaming metal winking at you in the yellow light.

Jason glanced over his broad shoulder and grinned at the sound of your giggles. He brushed his sticky hair back, giving you a prime view of his sharp canine. You shivered thinking about the mark it had left on your neck earlier. He turned the faucet on and ran something under it, then turned back to you, flicking the bathroom light off.

He really was an imposing man, you noted. 6'2 and built like an ox. To you, he looked like a statue with the way the moonlight streaming though the window illuminated his bare hip and ribs, painting them a comforting shade of blue. If he hadn't just fucked you silly, you would've imagined how scary he must be to a criminal in a dark alley.

The bed dipped as your statue sat beside you. He gently rolled you back onto your back, then began rubbing your thighs down with a warm washcloth.

"You feeling alright, doll?"

He must've asked that a handful of times while he had your legs hooked over his shoulder. You couldn't recall a time when anyone else had checked in with you during or after sex.

You nodded, only to have your words replaced with a sharp hiss as the washcloth brushed over your still sensitive pussy. The administrations stopped abruptly.

"Sorry, baby," Jason apologized, although he couldn't hide the amusement on his face. "I'll be gentler next time."

You snorted, "don't go making threats now."

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you. Heat rose to your face as you tasted yourself on his soft lips. You let out a whine when he parted and rose again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin' back. Hold your horses, lady," he teased, waving his hand dismissively. You rolled your eyes playfully. Like he had any room to judge someone for their dramatics.

He wiped himself down with the washcloth before dropping it in his hamper, where your torn panties hung over the side. He'd promised to buy you a much more expensive pair to make up for it. He pulled on a fresh pair of boxes and tossed you a pair.

You sat up and just as you had wriggled them over your hips, Jason was ready with one of his t-shirts. You put your arms up and let him slid the worn fabric over your torso - not missing the way his eyes stopped to admire the way Black Canary's logo looked over your bare chest.

"You sure you're alright? You're so quiet," Jason asked, sliding in next to you. You laid back, resting your head against his chest as you breathed in the lingering scent of sex, leather and aftershave. His skin was soft beneath your finger tips, their smooth path only interrupted by a patch of hair or a scar.

You remembered the first time you'd hooked up with him, before you had accidentally caught him with the Red Hood mask. You assumed the autopsy scars were some sort of dark humor tattoo. You told yourself you couldn't catch feelings for a guy with a weird ass tattoo like that.

And now you were still in his bed. Wearing his shirt. And his underwear. Knowing his secret identity. With plans to get breakfast in the morning.

At what point had this gone beyond simply pissing off Roman Sionis? Both you and Jason had just wanted to get back at your father by fucking in his warehouses. But now you had your own space on his bathroom counter. You were staying the night after sex. You whined when he pulled away from you.

Above all else, he was so kind to you. But beneath the sarcasm and snark, he had been kind from the get-go. It was you that had acted like a rotten, spoiled brat. The more time you spent with him, the softer you got.

Jason squeezed your shoulder lightly, murmuring your name. You looked up at him dumbly. His brows were furrowed in concern as he ran the tip of his finger over your cheekbone.

"What's the matter, bub?"

You shook your head.

"'m just tired. And lost in thought, I guess."

"Oh?" He hummed, brushing your jawline. "Whatcha thinkin' about, pretty girl."

You pretended to think for a moment.

"Hmm, just about how tired I am. Ya really know how to wear a woman out, Todd."

"Well, if I recall correctly, you said-"

"I know what I said!" you cut him off with a mock defensiveness, pretending to smack his chest as he snickered. Once more, he covered your hand with his own large one, this time pressing it to his heart.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, lost in each other's touch. You started to wonder if this is what love felt like; safe and warm and blissed out. You tried to push the thought out of your mind.

"Seriously though," Jason said, his voice low. "Did I go too far tonight? Are you actually okay?"

If you had been anyone else's daughter, you were certain that you would've started crying.

"I'm...I was just thinking..." you took a breath. In your defense, this kind of tender-love-and-care wasn't in your DNA. "I'm just...I'm lucky to have you, Jaybird."

"This isn't about to be a 'but comma' statement, is it?"

"A 'butt comma'?"

"Yeah, you know, 'you're great and all, but..."

You shot straight up, now hovering over him anxiously.

"Oh God, no!" You said, your eyes the size of saucers as you shook your head. Oh Lord, if he couldn't already tell you were emotionally unstable. You fell back on your heels, ringing your hands nervously. "Unless you want it to be..."

Now Jason sat up, taking both of your hands in his, running his thumbs over your knuckles.

"No, no, pretty girl. I don't want that."

There was no malice behind his green eyes. No mocking tweak in his slit eyebrow. No violence in his grip.

You sighed in relief and allowed Jason to lay you back down. He wrapped his thick arms around your waist and pulled you into him. You were thankful for the way he tucked your head into the crook of his neck, hiding your embarrassment at the emotional outburst.

Jason kissed the top of your head, "actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come to the Manor with me on Sunday. Family dinner stuff."

You peered up at him, "Would I be, y'know, welcomed there?"

"Of course," he promised. "Look, if there's any group of fuckers that can empathize with daddy issues, it's these fuckers. Damian'll probably give you shit, but you could've been birthed by the Pope and he would give you shit. But he knows you're cool."

"And Mr. Wayne?"

Jason chuckled, sending a soft vibration through you as his dark chest hair tickled your cheek.

"Believe it or not, it was B's idea to invite you. I think he's curious."

"Probably want to vet me," you grumbled, half joking, half painfully serious.

He laughed again, "baby, if Bruce had reason to be suspicious of you, he would've launched and concluded an investigation by now. He knows you're not your dad. I know I talk my shit about him, but trust me, he gets it."

You were about to ask if Batman had been keeping tabs on you when Jason continued.

"Plus, you know," he shrugged. "He knows you make me happy."

Oh, your heart stopped for a second.

Oh, that wasn't a bad thing.

Jason wanted to take you to dinner with his family. Not because he was a Wayne and you were a Sionis and the situation was inherently funny (and bound to set your old man off). But because you made him happy.

And fuck it, he made you happy too.

That might be love, actually.

"Well, if you insist," you nestled closer to him. "Then it's a date."

[ellestray]

elle's favorite ateez fics. f = fluff ; s = smut ; sg = suggestive ; a = angst. ✧ = absolute favorites, must read. (only adding notes for these few fics to ensure readability for the overall list!) word count in brackets. last updated: may 2nd, 2024

authors; if you wish to be untagged, please let me know!

currently no individual fic for hongjoong, yeosang & jongho. please refer to the OT8 section, or come back for future updates!

성화 SEONGHWA

✧ [11,1k] plastic flowers — @bobateastay ( f ; s ; a ) ↪ note: this fic revolves around abortion, so please keep this in mind before reading. i read this on a flight— and i don't know if it was the altitude, but it broke me. the author beautifully wrote this, in a way where unconditional love, hope and pain are intertwined. one of the most pleasantly surprising and touching reads i've had on this platform by far.

✧ [2,3k] essence — @hwaightme ( f ) ↪ note: this one is for the poetic, hopelessly romantic fics lovers. everything i've read from this author was beautiful so far! the poetry in this fic was so pretty that i felt the need to share it to my friends... although i usually never share fics out of tumblr. i'm excited to read through more of your writings, bai!

[1,2k] the first snow and being in love — @i-luvsang ( f )

[884] 02:36 — @hwapetals ( f )

[642] adoration — @kisshwa ( f ; sg )

[8,6k] both — @hwaightme ( s ; f )

[200] 10:24pm — @hotteoki ( f )

[986] anguish — @kisshwa ( a )

[n/a] bf texts — @hotteoki ( f )

[79] 9:22pm — @cozykpopblurbs ( f )

[1,6k] i'll be with you — @cheollipop ( f )

[519] lazy make out sessions — @crazyforhwa ( s )

[1,2k] realistic sex — @byuntrash101 ( s ; f )

윤호 YUNHO

✧ [13k + 18,2k] unprofessional attraction ; pt.1 , pt.2 , [tbc] — @jk97 ( f ; s ; a ) ↪ note: i was so engulfed into this fic that i skipped a lecture to continue reading. fics that are heavier nsfw-wise usually aren't my thing, but here, every single line pulled me in. hell, i felt even more insane about yunho after reading this. saying i'm excited about the next chapters would be an understatement.

✧ [14k] closer, face down — @ncteez ( s ; f ) ↪ note: again, although i usually prefer fluff over smut, i absolutely loved this fic... the build up made it so enticing! i don't know if a re-edit still is in the works, but i'd absolutely re-read it regardless!

✧ [84,5k] project: make you love me (series) — @hwaslayer ( f ; a ; s ) ↪ note: pulled an all nighter to read the entire series in one go... it was that fun to read! the relationship was built up at a nice, natural pace, while still keeping the reader on their toes. (this made me very excited about the seonghwa series in progress..!)

[1,1k] bedfellows — @sungbeam ( f )

[1,3k] he knows he loves you — @honeyhotteoks ( f )

[2,5k] convenience store chances — @ohmyamor ( f )

[n/a] boyfriend texts — @koizekomi ( f )

[300] nothing sweeter — @i-luvsang ( f )

[1,1k] nsfw alphabet — @yunhobug ( s )

[425] 3:52am — @edenesth ( f ; sg? )

산 SAN

✧ [3,7k] leave the window open — @sungbeam ( f ) ↪ note: so sweet. so comforting. the kind of heartwarming fic that feels like hot cocoa on a cold winter day. (also made me feel insane about san... but let's not talk about that.)

[1k] always available — @everyonewooeverywhere ( f )

✧ [1,6k] capturing us — @03jyh23 ( f ) ↪ note: another sweet, poetic, hopelessly romantic fic— my favorite kind! finding fics like these always feels like discovering a little treasure. looking forward to all the wips!

[n/a] boyfriend texts — @koizekomi ( f )

[2,6k] take a break - @cheollipop ( f ; s )

[249] 21:23 — @petitemingi ( f )

[350] boyfriend headcanons — @i-luvsang ( f )

[600] one more minute — @seonghwaddict ( f )

[1,3k] no strings, no expectations — @seonghwaddict ( a ; sg ; f? )

[468] stretch marks — @beenbaanbuun ( f )

[475] valentine's series : movies — @whimsicalwritingsandmore ( f )

[n/a] instagram stories with bf san — @lwtqts ( f )

[371] hold me — @cheeseceli ( f )

민기 MINGI

[800] untitled — @cheollipop ( a ; f )

[2,8k] mind over matter — @mingisaddctn ( s )

[256] 23:22 — @petitemingi ( f )

[1k] 23:46 — @seonghwaddict ( f )

[447] princess treatment — @cheeseceli ( f )

우영 WOOYOUNG

✧ [1,2k] broke you heart, i'll put it back together — @dairyminki ( a ; f ) ↪ note: loved this so much that i had to read it twice. something about wooyoung hopelessly in love wanting to fix this... name twin, if you're reading this, hi- i'd be seated for a part 2 if you ever have the time to write it!

[2,2k] vacation — @bobateastay ( f ; s )

OT8

[700] when you don't say i love you back — @jjunberry ( f )

[2,4k] romance tropes — @beenbaanbuun ( f )

[n/a] situationships (texts) ; pt.1 , pt.2 — @yunhoszn ( f )

[2,9k + 3k] as boyfriends ; hyung line , maknae line — @honeyhotteoks ( f : s )

[n/a] sex ban (texts) — @kisshwa ( sg ; f )

[n/a] sending you a pic of themselves (texts) — @bombuni ( f )

[1,3k] outfit turn-ons — @starillusion13 ( sg )

[1,2k] make-up sex — @nateezfics ( f ; a ; s )

[944] showering — @seonghwaddict ( f ; sg )

[1,6k] as boyfriends — @atiny-moon ( f ; sg )

[2,5k] that one specific habit they do that highlights their love language — @sanhwaism ( f )

[1,1k] top 3 kinks — @seonghwaddict ( s )

[2,8k] making out — @sxcret-garden ( sg ; f )

[n/a] asking them to draw a flower (texts) — @eightmakesonebraincell ( f )

if any link is broken, or if i made any mistake when tagging fics— please kindly let me know!

[whilereadingandwalking]

Genji is not a perfect person, but there’s a purity to him, a beauty that’s clearly meant to be lauded, particularly in contrast to later chapters. He’s in love with love, a true romantic, and his sometimes unwise affairs are motivated by a true sense of love. He never abandons one of his lovers, which in this time is crucial. No matter the shame it brings to himself, he tries to find a way to honor the women he’s fallen for. He’s charming. No one can not love him, or ultimately forgive him his faults.

The age of Tale of Genji had strict rules of romance—of how flirtations worked (largely intermediaries and poetry), of how commitments worked, of how aloof vs. present it was appropriate to be (it’s good to commit but bad to hoard or become jealous). It was possible to love too much. Genji is accused of this, but he always remembers to care for the people he is responsible for—once he grows up that is.

Early in the text, he neglects his wife, and he also neglects “the Rokujo lady.” The Rokujo lady becomes so jealous and enraged that her spirit begins to sicken his wife. This ghost returns more than once over the course of the text. She has grown sick from obsession and neglect, and Genji pays the price for it. It’s part of what motivates him to always care for the women he romances for the rest of his life.

Later, in the “Uji” chapters, young Kaoru and prince Niou also love too much. Niou is impulsive like Genji but also flighty, and Kaoru is serious like Genji but also obsessive. Both men pursue the women at Uji with insistence that the text can’t quite forgive as it could for Genji. Both, somehow, go too far—perhaps in their attempts to hoard, or in their impatience.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Reputation to uphold

Day 5: No need for poetry.

Summary: Hiding the letters is his first priorities.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1368

Warnings: fluff, azzie being a shy baby 🥹

A/n: i loved writing this hehehe (i wrote most of this in 40 mins 💀)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"I missed this, mama." Hazel sighed, pulling away her cup of hot chocolate. Azriel smiled, looking over at his daughter, sitting next to his now son in law, Kaden.

What did I say? He was going to take away my daughter.

Y/n raised her brows. "It’s barely been a week since you’ve last had it."

Hazel grimaced. "Yeah, and his hot chocolate does not compare."

"Hey that’s mean!" Kaden sputtered, choking on his own drink.

"Yeah, stop being mean to my son."

Hazel rolled her eyes, turning to her father.

"Dad, come on, tell me a story." She had always been fond of listening to stories, and Az, wanting to make his daughter happy, had begun the new habit of telling stories every night.

Azriel glanced at his wife as she settled in next to him, warmth spreading in his chest. No matter how long they’d been married for, even just the sight of Y/n filled Azriel with happiness. Just as it had back when he had first seen her in the market, giggling with her friends over something.

"What do you want to hear about?"

Hazel leaned back, contemplating before perking up. "How you met mom and got married."

Azriel’s cheeks warmed, and he prayed his wife did not notice.

"Look dad, you’ve always said I was too young to know, but now I am even married. I want to know."

Azriel sighed, looking to his wife for help.

"Yeah Az, I wanna know the story too." Y/n grinned, not meeting his eyes.

Knowing he would not be allowed to leave without reliving his most embarrassing moments, he got comfortable in his chair.

"I saw her in the market one day. She was with her friends, and I instantly knew I was going to marry her one day."

She had been so ethereal, and she was in just a simple flowy dress. Her hair had been pinned out of her face, the breeze softly playing with the strands the way Azriel wished he could. Her smile, it could have brought him to his knees. And her sparkling eyes spoke of kindness far more louder than actions, the love and compassion for her fellow fae shining through every blink.

"Did you ever write her love letters and poetry?"

Azriel scoffed, focusing on the dark dregs at the bottom of his cup. "Me? I don’t have to resort to poetry."

Azriel felt his wife’s gaze on him, and he could picture her perfectly, sitting there, eyebrows raised in a are you sure about that? gesture.

"Yeah, he just ended up drowning in the river trying to impress me."

Azriel turned to glare at Y/n accusingly, who simply shrugged. "Now Az, lying is bad. Someone has to tell the truth."

Azriel grumbled, then again began. This time, truthfully. "Feyre needed some paint supplies from the market, and because I was free, I offered to get them for her."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel never thought he would ever ask someone for a romantic day out. After all, he never had to do that. He would just give females a glance and they would ask him to spend time with them themselves.

But this time, it was not happening. The female in the market square barely spared him a glance when he sidled up to her, pretending to look at all the brightly coloured pots on display at the stand she was giggling with her friends over.

"Y/n, that pot would look so good with your couch!"

Y/n. That name would certainly look good with Azriel’s name next to it.

"Yes Cindy, I’m going to cook on my couch."

Azriel smiled down at the pot in his hands, biting his cheek.

"It certainly is beautiful though." He mumbled, voice low so only Y/n could hear as her two other friends started bickering. He felt her stiffen before she glanced at him.

"That it is. But I don’t think I’m in need of more things."

Azriel swallowed, nodding. "You live near?"

Finally, he gathered the courage to meet her narrowed eyes. "Why do you ask?"

He smiled with a confidence he did not feel. "Where will I pick you up from for our dinner tomorrow then if you don’t tell me?"

She reared back as if his words had a physical impact on him.

"I- I’m sorry, I’m not interested."

Azriel blinked. But before he could say anything, she had grabbed her friends’ hands and dragged them away.

But from the slight blush on her face, he knew that he only needed to try and she would agree.

He bought the pot she had been eyeing so longingly just moments before, then hurried to go get the paints Feyre had asked for.

He was so sure he wouldn’t have to resort to poetry.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

The next day, Azriel was back at the market square, trying to figure out which direction she had gone. He had probably been wandering around aimlessly when he spotted the beautiful head of the lady he was so enthralled by.

"Hey. Pleasant day." He said as he fell in step beside the unsuspecting female.

She jumped, wide, frantic eyes meeting his own. Exasperation spread through her features as she realised it was him.

"You- what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, grinning as he held his gloved hand out. "I’m Azriel."

Her brows furrowed. She probably thought Azriel was loose in the head. "Y/n."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady."

She sighed. "Look, I’ve already told you I’m not interested."

"Why not?"

She paused. "I don’t like males who think they’re entitled to my time."

He nodded sagely. "Me neither. I hate people like that. But look at this like this, I want to get to know you. Maybe this could be something-"

She sighed. "No. Sorry."

Azriel’s palms turned sweaty. He had found her again, he did not want to let her go without getting something out of this. Even one evening of talking was enough. "I- I am the high lord’s shadowsinger."

Her gaze hardened. "Are you threatening me?"

His eyes widened. "No! I could never! I’m just trying…"

"Trying what?"

"To make you interested in me. It has worked before."

She rolled her eyes. "I don’t like males who try to entice me by stating their high powers."

Panic seized Azriel. This was going very wrong very quickly, and he did not like it one bit.

"I did not mean it that way-"

"Really, sir, I do not care what you meant and what you didn’t. Just leave me alone."

Azriel was left gaping after her, breathing heavy.

Fuck.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel balled up another paper, throwing it behind him before clutching his head.

He had decided that being arrogant and trying to keep up his records of never having to resort to poetry would not help him.

Your eyes like the sun,Shining so beautiful,Your hair like waterfall,You-

Was Azriel truly so bad at poetry?

He was doomed.

She wouldn’t give him the time of day, evident by her refusal to even acknowledge him the three times he had tried to interact with her after that day at the market, and he was losing hope. He had sent countless letters and poems already to her house through his shadows, and he still had received no response.

Maybe he was well and truly doomed.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"You know, I still have all those letters and poems."

Azriel’s head whipped to look at his wife, eyes wide. "Why?"

She shrugged, getting up from the couch and taking the cup from Hazel and kaden, both who grinned unabashedly.

"You think I would burn or throw away letters of desperation sent by the spymaster?" Y/n snorted. "Let me get them for you, children."

"No!" Azriel semi-yelled, shooting to his feet before dashing into their bedroom, hoping to stop her before she even tried to reveal all his secrets.

Loud laughter followed the frantic spymaster, but he did not care. All he cared about was finding those letters and burning them, or maybe atleast hiding them away so his wife couldn’t tease him about it.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

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[centrally-unplanned]

There are two big "AI Art Discourse" events of note recently, which I thought were interesting: ACX's "AI Art Turing Test" and the new paper on "AI Poetry Beating Human Poetry". Both of these I think reveal the shape of "what is AI art for", and also say a lot about how these results were utilized in discourse.

To take the latter first, some academics quizzed people on some poetry and had these results:

We found that AI-generated poems were rated more favorably in qualities such as rhythm and beauty, and that this contributed to their mistaken identification as human-authored. Our findings suggest that participants employed shared yet flawed heuristics to differentiate AI from human poetry: the simplicity of AI-generated poems may be easier for non-experts to understand, leading them to prefer AI-generated poetry and misinterpret the complexity of human poems as incoherence generated by AI.

More human than human poems! This certainly seems impressive - and it is. You couldn't have gotten these results ~5 years ago. But that maybe doesn't mean as much as you might think? Because here is the opening half of the winning "Walt Whitman AI" Poem:

I hear the call of nature, the rustling of the trees, The whisper of the river, the buzzing of the bees, The chirping of the songbirds, and the howling of the wind, All woven into a symphony, that never seems to end. I feel the pulse of life, the beating of my heart, The rhythm of my breathing, the soul's eternal art, The passion of my being, that burns with fervent fire, The urge to live, to love, to strive, to reach up higher. I see the beauty all around, the glory of the earth, The majesty of mountains, the miracles of birth, The wonder of the cosmos, the mysteries of the stars, The poetry of existence, that echoes near and far

This fucking sucks. Straight up 2/10 poem. Did this bitch seriously establish the world's most predictable rhyme scheme only to try to rhyme wind with end? You had one job that you chose for yourself, and you screwed it up! This poem has been written a million times before, and says nothing - the Miley Cyrus lyrics of verse.

The reason this won is, yes, because AI tools have advanced heavily in the past few years. But it is also because it is being tested on a dead art. No one cares about poetry - certainly not the survey respondents:

We asked participants several questions to gauge their experience with poetry, including how much they like poetry, how frequently they read poetry, and their level of familiarity with their assigned poet. Overall, our participants reported a low level of experience with poetry: 90.4% of participants reported that they read poetry a few times per year or less, 55.8% described themselves as “not very familiar with poetry”, and 66.8% describe themselves as “not familiar at all” with their assigned poet. 

"Or less" is doing a LOT of work there; "yeah I read a few nonfiction books a year" oh sure, totally. 90% of these respondents haven't read a poem that wasn't displayed in the end credits of Minecraft since high school. No one does, poetry as a medium is essentially a relic. That isn't an insult to poets, by the way! There is no shame in being a niche. Not everyone can have the reach of hentai doujin artists; the community is small but they get a ton out of it. But you can't take the art of the community and expect that art to hit outside of it.

This survey didn't ask people to evaluate art; it asked people to evaluate their stereotypical impression of an art they don't care about. It was ~600 people hired off a website, they banged it out ASAP and moved on. This is not to invalidate the results; I am not actually claiming that "real" poets would have scored much better? Maybe, I don't know - that just isn't very relevant.

Let's swing to the AI Art Turing Test results to get more into why. Again, AI art is absolutely "art" in the sense that it is able to pass the test handily. You have to be head-in-the-sand at this point to think that AI can't make an impressionist painting a la the "most liked" art in this contest:

I have seen the "well real paintings have physicality this is a jpeg" discourse points and the cope couldn't be more real - 99% of art consumption in the modern world is digital or at least prints, let's get you back to bed grandma. But I did find it pretty funny that Scott noted this AI piece as one he particularly liked:

Because it is nonsensical, right? All that "faded paint", how was it originally painted - just bucket splashes of red and blue? What are those random doors, the random stairs going nowhere on the sides, the vague-nothings engravings? Scott just didn't care about that - he liked the vibe, right? Ancient ruins, epic scale. It isn't a coincidence that the Impressionist art did the best - current AI tools are always impressionist, they have an idea of the vibe and invent the details in between. In Impressionism that is the whole point.

Now the trap is to go "REAL artists can tell because of this or that" because idk, the tools might get better, they might fill in more and more details. The real revelation here is that you don't need the tools to get better - visual art isn't so different from poetry. Most people don't pay attention to it all that much. You see thousands, thousands of pieces of art a week; you probably don't even realize how many. Do you really care if the fading paint makes coherent sense on a billboard ad or a doctor's office wall painting? So much art that is made is "industrial" in this sense - it has no need to be good. Only good enough to fulfill its utilitarian role. In these fields AI absolutely is going to Take Your Jobs in some form, and already is (though imo not a ton of them). And it won't really bother most people. This can go pretty deep - I promise you people are "utilizing" AI porn right now. They are ~appreciating the details~ way more than is typical, the product is working.

All this works until it doesn't, though. When it is an art book by a favourite artist whose vision you want to pour over, learning that all the individual details were just made by AI completely defeats the purpose, right? Imagine reading a book of these poems. Outside of the novelty, "AI is the point" factor you would rather watch infomercials on repeat, I can't imagine a more pointless use of my time. "Reading arbitrary poems" is never fun, regardless of the quality of the poems. Most people don't care about poetry! The reason you care is that you care about the poet, and what they want to say. You read poetry with context, it being inserted with intent into the pages of a manga, at the end of a video game, because you like the artist and follow them on twitter. The quality of the prose isn't more important than that.

Which is a harsh limit for all of these kinds of tests. They essentially aren't testing art, right? You do not ever get paid twenty bucks to sit down and read a dozen poems and score them. That has no bearing on how you would actually ever learn to care about a poem. Which doesn't make AI art useless or anything, more that these tests will very quickly run into their limits of what they can meaningfully tell you. The actual bar is "creating something someone cares about". From that lens, I fully believe hybrid methods that privilege artistic intent are currently working and will improve. But I think for "solo" AI art getting that to work is going to be complicated.