#i love men who think to much

[strxnged]

ALHAITHAM: # magic.

My secret santa gift for the illustrious Miss Ying @mlkbwunnies (AKA Mrs. Alhaitham)! Thank you for tolerating my poetic inclinations—I can't be normal about anything including your selfship. I am so glad to have met you in the last year or so. You are truly a light in the (many) communities you contribute to! I love being in your server and getting to chat with you and seeing your life updates on my dash. I hope this coming year is full of blessings and light!

Word count. 0.9k. Genre. cozy; established relationship w. a touch of magic.

Alhaitham was roused by the sound of music.

Nascent light of a sun hinting to rise cast a gentle glow on the bed he shared with you. His gaze fell on your bare shoulder. He felt a dreamy rise of strings, a melody of chimes, and his own heartbeat swell as he leaned over you and placed a warm kiss on your cheek. Though he meant for it to only be one kiss, he saw your beautiful lashes and flushed cheeks and he couldn’t resist planting a few more. “Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered. This woke you enough that you half-hummed, half-sighed with a dozy smile—maybe at him, maybe at your dreams. Smiling, he tightened his arm around your waist and gave you one final embrace before he slipped out of bed and donned a housecoat. The music was fading.

It was only as he shut the door to the bedroom that he paused, listening. The music had suddenly stopped, leaving him in somewhat confused silence. It was only a minor hypnopompic hallucination, a common and harmless occurance of post-slumber muddlement. Alhaitham was skeptical of anything deeper than this; he knew that the space between the land of dreams and reality was only a mental trick. Even on a magical day such as today, his mind was only playing tricks on him, he was sure.

Yet he was acutely aware of a sense of wonder. Would it… come back if he opened the door again?

Alhaitham set his hand on the cold doorknob, considering. He was the only one aware of this idea. Kaveh wasn’t around to seed doubt, and you would only think that he was gazing at you one last time. This was something that, at the thought of it, eroded any other concerns. After all this time, he couldn’t get enough of gazing at you. He turned the knob. 

You were still adorably bunched up under the blankets, fast asleep as he’d left you. But the music came flooding back.

Anxiety crept through his body. Perhaps it was a confirmation bias? An expectancy effect? If he closed the door now, the plucked harp floating through his mind would stop, but only because he thought it would. So he thought, determined, that of course it would continue, because that was how hallucinations worked.

The door shut. The music stopped.

It was all Alhaitham could do to step lightly as he sped across the house to one of the bookshelves—yours, which was filled with charming fairy tales, poetry, and anthologies of holy and magical phenomena. Neither of you were very superstitious, but sometimes coincidences occurred in this world that could not be explained by the comforts of science.

He set the book on the table by the window, turning immediately to the index. Slipping his reading glasses onto his nose, he dragged his finger down the list until he saw “Christmas.” He flipped to entries which denoted werewolf children, burning shoes, baths, pudding, elves—but nothing, to his comfort, about music playing in the mind. He was about to close the book, make a coffee, and pretend that it hadn’t happened.

Music, he thought.

Guided by the index, he journeyed through several more entries until he saw one that made his heart skip a beat.

Musical Fantasy: A misunderstood phenomenon characterized by hearing beautiful music in one’s mind. Despite popular conceptions, it only occurs when the one you love is dreaming of you in the early morning. These melodies can sometimes be heard by and channeled through spiritual mediums, and thus transcribed into playable notes. It is said that hearing Musical Fantasies indicates mutual, undying desire.

Alhaitham closed the book and returned it to its position on the shelf. As he brewed his coffee his brows were furrowed in consternation. There had always been a part of him that fancied mysteries, a part that was drawn to the magic of the world. It was against his best judgement and beyond his control. To step into the murky waters of the supernatural would mean to let go of his need to understand—to let go of his impulse to feel in control. He didn’t hate it—he feared it—he was captivated by it. Despite everything, he was intrigued. 

It was not too different from that shine in your eyes that had gripped him all those years ago.

He heard your quiet footsteps like a cat’s down the hall, and he stood, his chest fluttering. Music or no music, he needed to see you, and needed to feel your gaze returned.

As you stepped into the room you seemed to hit a warm, gentle wall. Alhaitham’s hands pressed the small of your back and your hair, drawing you into a tender but tight embrace. The music rang in his head, and yet it seemed to fade into the background when he felt your skin against his. Electrifying. Profound.

His breath tickled your ear as he said in that low, alluring voice of his, “I love you.”

Alhaitham felt you melt into him. And in that unique, familiar way, magic and logic coincided to explain exactly how he knew you were his.

Author's note. I must add that I'm pretty rusty at writing romance these days, so I hope you don't mind that I added in some contemplation with the magic component. Merry Christmas, Ying! And pass it on to your husband, too. (。・ω・。)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[knifearo]

this year my challenge for everyone is to unlearn the association between love and morality. love is not something that is inherently morally good, and the absence of love is not something that is inherently bad. sex without love isn't morally bankrupt, it's just an action. people without love aren't less kind or less good, they're just people. when we can get past this false (and often unnoticed) dichotomy of good love/evil lovelessness then i think we are going to be able to take leaps and bounds in sex positivity, aro advocacy, certain discussions of mental health...

[bertoyana]

charles and erik with each other: oh dear, oh dear. gorgeous 🥺👐 charles and erik with the villain of the week/the x-men: K1LL YOURSELF 🔥🔥🔥

X-Men: First Class (2011) | X-Men Apocalypse (2016)

[trixxedheart]

It is amazing how the "people that love and uplift transwomen" website will instantly fucking maul a transwoman if she even remotely insinuate that using radfem rhetoric harms trans people

[jadewritesficshere]

Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[thaern]

One of the many reasons to why George is my favourite musician and artist is the fact that even when he was raised in a small town with many closed thoughts he didn't let that or even the fame construct a image of him as utterly masculine and stereotypical, with his friends (different from Paul) for him showing love to everyone being physically close to them or hugging them no matter the gender, was something normal, a simple act of love.

Just like Olivia once said, George had romantic relationships with all of his friends because he was so full of it that it didn't scared him to show it, being making presents or just giving a hug, he did not let the fragile masculinity and conservative speech stop him from being himself.

And that, for a man raised in the late 50s is something to admire

[lunarharp]

more phoenix wright situations

[lunar-years]

This is not a genuine interview where he shares his genuine thoughts. His job is controlled by a network that profits at least 50% from Republicans, and who are receiving a sitting president at their biggest game. If you think they haven't controlled talk over DT because of how it affects the sport then you aren't living in reality. He can't just say what he wants, he's not a random person ln tumblr. There's a reason even Taylor mainly ignored him in her endorsement of Harris, it's just bot worth it and it doesn't pluck him out of the white house.

If you think there wasn’t a better way for Travis to answer that question that wouldn’t have involved saying it was both “awesome” and an “honor” as well as spouting that America is the best country in the world, I’m sorry but you are the one not living in reality. As just one example of a better response, this is how Jalen Hurts, QB of the Eagles, answered a very similar question:

But maybe it’s only in the Chiefs contract that they’ve got to praise the presidency! 🤪 lmao.

[eelclaw]

stupid fucking bastard. i am not coping with the leaks

[runespoor7]

Do think it's very crunchy that WWX only defends his new flavor of the month in the ancestral hall. Not himself. Not WN, to whom JC did arguably have a life debt and for whom WWX did dump JC. Not any of these old things; just the shiny new hot powerful protective dude that he doesn't have any meaningful preexisting bond with and that he's been falling for since returning and running away from his previous life.

Just the perfect, serene blank slate of novelty (and the guilty undercurrent of once again feeling something that isn't socially acceptable and won't be welcome).

[manichewitz]

actually abt to cry thinking abt the impact and popularity that yuri on ice had when it came out, how it won every fucking animation award it could possibly get, and it was so good that OLYMPIC FIGURE SKATERS used the yuri on ice theme AT THE LITERAL OLYMPICS and yet we’re not getting a season two or a movie. is this homophobia or am i crazy

[jubilost]

i need to get him pregnant

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Surprise bitch! I was interview anon this entire time!

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HELP MEEEE ok i see why i kept gettin asked if id seen this yet vjaLVJA THANK YOU SO MUCH

[cankersaurus]

Toxic Yaoi

[red-moon-at-night]

The Heart wants what it wants.