#love letters to the moon

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

I miss you. You are all i ever think about. I fill my days with distractions but… you are in my always. I can love no other; you are too caught up in my soul. I want to be with you. Forever. Always and forever. I try to forget you (as I hope you have forgotten me) but it is in vain; i pour my soul into everything i do. I pour you into everything i do. Is there one song i hear that you are not in the lyrics of? Is there one heroine that i read of that is not pale in comparison of you? Is there one quote that i see that doesn’t have you between the lines? Is there one poem that i write that is not about you?

No.

[petaltexturedskies]

your heart requires moonlight

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West dated 7 October 1928

[icanseefire]

I never understood how one could fall in love with the moon, until I found mine

[spacedlexi]

ok but I would play the fuck out of a farming sim in your style filled with butches

if i knew anything about coding it would be So over instead im just sitting in a massive pile of all of my designs. which i will take this opportunity to share i guess :) i have designed pretty much every building and am currently working on interiors

only a handful of the townies have been designed and the rest are just vague concepts but as a bisexual gendie neuch girlie i really wanted to make a cast that has something for Everyone so im taking my time with them. this is my "perpetually on the backburner" project i go to when im feeling lost creatively

[pineappical]

would calling this something like "the sun to his earth" be a little bit too cliche? maybe...

[psystirene]

MADE STAMPS OUT OF MY RAIN WORLD ART!!! Free to use, credit appreciated but not 100% necessary!

2nd Batch (Screenshots)

If you want you can request a stamp of any art I've made but I probably won't make art for the express purpose of turning it into stamps lol (though I may make more batches later)

OH YEAH ft. designs from @whippiekippy on some of the ship ones. I would turn the ship art I did for rw ship month into stamps but a lot use other ppls designs so idk lol

[starberriemilk]

"I was a diligent student. The only things I cared about were my textbooks and the school lectures!"

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Vladimir Nabokov Letters to Vera / pinterest / @heavensghost WHAT IS LOVE IF NOT THE SHARING OF SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL? / Young Royals (2021-) cr. Lisa Ambjörn, Lars Beckung, Camilla Holter / Kiersten White The Chaos of Stars / Alida Moon / Blue (2002) dir. ��藤尋 Hiroshi Ando / Haruki Murakami Norwegian Wood

[fantamghost]

h

[livwritesstuff]

‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

[mccn-bcys]

Je T'aime

prompt: Love Note pairing: steven grant + gn!reader summary: you've been the best thing to ever happen to steven. He loved doing so much cheesy love things with you, even writing little love notes and letters. warning: light angst, steven being a cutie, steven speaking a little french, fluff word count: 1.2 K author's note: this is my second work for the Moon Knight Bingo hosted by @moonknight-events. the bingo board will be at the bottom of my fics for it. This one is a little short, but it's sweet and I just love steven grant so I hope you all enjoy this! As always, if you like it, please, please, please reblog to share it with your friends! also i'm starting my tag list over so if you'd like to be tagged in future fics for specific characters or for this event or for all fics, tell me in my asks and I'll add you to the list!

Steven Grant has always been a romantic. It’s in his DNA, he’s convinced. He loves the idea of love, the idea of unashamedly showing and professing the love that you feel to the person you feel it for. He’s proud to admit that he has seen just about every rom-com out there. He never misses a new Hallmark movie – yes, he knows the acting isn’t good, and that they’re cheap and silly, but they’re reliable. Love always prevails in them.

Sure, there’s probably a reason that Steven has a romantic heart. If he had to guess, he’d probably say it comes from his relationship with his mother. I mean, Steven was born from Marc’s lack of love from his mother; Steven was there to see all the good times with Wendy, he got to experience all the love from his mother, while Marc took all the times she didn’t love. Perhaps Steven liked the idea of someone loving them unconditionally. Perhaps it was the very concept that someone could love them both, that one of them wouldn’t have to take the bad days, or the days that lacked love, because there wouldn’t be days that lacked love.

Perhaps that’s what made Steven fall in love with you so quickly. Because from the start, he knew you would love all of them, not just one part of them. Even if there were bad days, or hard days, you were still here, showing that you still loved them. It was mind-altering, especially for Marc. But for Steven, it meant the world.

Especially, because now he had someone to express all his love to, someone who appreciated all the ways Steven liked to show his love, no matter how cheesy or silly they were. You adored everything he did.

Steven knew you kept all his gifts. They were in a box in your closet. It was full of date receipts, jewelry, drawings, poems, and all other things he’d gifted you throughout your relationship. One thing that he could never find was all the love notes he left for you. You always say you love them, but he never sees them anywhere. And even though he knows you would never do such a thing, the bad part of his brain wonders if you throw them away, or if you tuck them away and forget about them.

That is until one day. You were in the shower while he was combing through your bookshelf, seeing if you had any new books for him to read. And there’s a book he doesn’t recognize. Have you always had this book? It looks almost like a binder, like a notebook that’s meant to pass as regular book. Should he open it? He supposes it couldn’t hurt. If you didn’t want anyone to read it, you wouldn’t leave it out. And even if he isn’t supposed to read it, he’ll take the blame for nosing around.

Pulling it from the shelf, he flips it open, seeing that there’s pages but they each have sheet protectors on them. Pulling out his glasses, he reads the first page, and he realizes what this is. Thumbing through the rest of the pages, he looks and sees the rest of the protected pages in the book.

His love notes.

You had all of them, sitting on your bookshelf, protected in this little book. Emotion wells in his eyes as he reads them over, feeling relief flood through him as he now knows you did like them, you kept all of them, and you kept them on your bookshelf for anyone and everyone to find it and read it.

“Took you long enough to find it,” your voice sounds from behind him, making him slam the book shut and whirl around, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“What?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found that before now. Figured it would be the first thing you read when you started reading my books,” you chuckle, walking over to him, your wet hair framing your face as you’re wrapped in a towel. You must’ve used him soaps, he can smell it.

“What do you mean?”

“I left that book out for a while for you to find. On the table, the nightstand, almost everywhere. But you never mentioned it, so I figured you never looked at it. It figures that you’d find it as soon as I put it on the bookshelf.”

Steven didn’t really have any words, wasn’t sure what to say. He just looked down at the book, reading over the words that he had written to you.

“You kept them,” he says softly. It’s not really a question since he can clearly see that you did. But you answered anyways.

“Of course, I did.”

“Why?” he finds himself asking. Obviously, it was because you loved him. But he can’t keep himself from asking, as if the notion baffles him.

On some level it does baffle him. The letters themselves are silly, elementary. But still you kept them, even though anyone else would not have wanted to keep such childish things.

“Because you wrote them. You took the time to write down the way you felt. Because they’re from you,” you said like it was simple. Because, to you, it was simple. You loved Steven, so you wanted to keep every little thing he gave you.

He looked at you softly for a moment, just looking at you. What did he do to deserve someone like you?

“What?” you ask softly.

“Nothing, love, just… thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

“Funny, I think that same thing every time I read those letters,” you chuckle, slipping your arms around his waist.

“Every time? What do you mean?”

“I read them a lot. Mostly at night before I go to sleep,” you admit.

“Really? Why?”

You looked at him with a curious glance, but you looked so patient and amused. “Because they’re from you. They make me feel loved and comforted. They make me think of you.”

Steven’s chest tightens with emotion. Slowly, he slips his glasses off his nose and puts them back in his shirt pocket, placing the book back on the shelf as he slips his arms around your towel covered body, and he just looks at you.

“Je t'aime plus que tout,” he whispers softly as he brushes a wet strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. His heart squeezes when he sees the way you smile brightly at him. He knows that you love when he speaks French, you’ve always found it romantic and beautiful.

“I love you too, Steven,” you murmur back, leaning in to kiss him softly, which he gladly returns. When you pull back you grin and give his ass a playful squeeze. “Now go take your shower so we can read together before we go to sleep.”

“You got it, love,” he smiles wide, giggling softly as he pulls away to walk to the bathroom.

It’s still steamy in the bathroom from your hot shower, the mirror clouded over with steam. Except for the spot wiped in the center of the mirror, where Steven’s face fits perfectly in, and the words that had been written in your handwriting and Steven realizes you had left him your own love note:

Steven, You Are So Beautiful, Inside And Out. Je T’aime.

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tag list: @moonknight-events @toracainz @marc-spectorr @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight @luvpedropascal @missdictatorme

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Maybe, in some other universe, where we are older and wiser and closer…. maybe we could’ve been happy. Maybe you would love me. Maybe I wouldn’t have hurt you. Maybe… our love would amaze and shock the world and they would know that surely, there is something more powerful than all else.

[petaltexturedskies]

Virginia Woolf in a letter to Vita Sackville-West dated 7 October 1928, from Love Letters: Vita and Virginia

[helluvahotmess]

'I want you to continue to be who you are.' what if i fucking died what then

[teddys-draft]

Hii (with the intention of watching moon with you)

[rotten-dog-teeth]

I'm aroace, aplatonic and on the afamilial spectrum, but I am still completely and utterly in love.

I'm in love with the moon. Every night I look for her in the sky, and every time I see her I grin sheepishly at her with adoration in my teeth. She's so pretty, my darling lady, and I feel so ridiculously smitten with her.

I'm in love with the German language. I imagine her to be a beautiful, round forest spirit in the dark of the woods, with long, brown, coiled hair, whom if you are quiet and gentle enough, may appear before you before leaving you once again to hide amongst the trees. And when she speaks and I read her words, my heart flutters.

I'm in love with the double bass. In the back of my mind, we dance, elegant together in old, crumbling castles, sweeping through the gold pouring through the stained glass windows. Their dark, soft, comforting notes like an auditory weighted blanket.

I'm in love with old books. I rescue them from neglect and unwant, and I hold them in my frail, damaged arms to my chest and whisper to them that I love them and will care for them, and tend to the love they have been bestowed throughout their lifetime by previous owners, and that I'm sorry for their neglect, but that if they will allow me, I will love them with all I am capable of.

I'm in love with poeticism. She plants her claws in the walls of my chest cavity, and from the gashes burst plumes of flowers, each with their own story and affectionate symbolism that they hold so dearly in their fragile figures, dusting my lungs with tender meanings that I will echo out into the world.

I'm in love with the colour brown. They recieve so much cruelty and dismissal, despite being such a loving colour. They're the colour of the home; of the wooden floorboards and furniture; of warm, hearty, homecooked meals in the winter; of the dirt in the flower pots; of the blankets you cuddle in the cold and the knitted jumpers you cradle yourself in. They're warm, and loving, and affectionate.

I'm in love with so much and so many, and I am so full of love it feels like I'm spilling out of my body. I never want to be in a romantic, sexual or platonic relationship, and I do not want any more family than the small household I have, but in myself I will forever be planting kisses on each and every one of these things and so many more, and bowing my heart for them.

/aff /gen