#now that summer is upon us i have so much more time to draw stuff!!!

[motherforthefamicom]

trying to start working on my ap art summer work (put it off all summer and now theres. 10 days left until school starts apperently) i hateeeee how vague everything is ugh

[poryphoria]

dnt normally post oc stuff but i suddenly remembered an old one of mine that was inspired by @bogleech's harmburger stuff (particularly the variation in awful hospital)

idk if they had a name before but its Redbert now!! (Red "40" Bert for long)

they're a cheap shitty fast food megacorp's twisted experiment to make a "meat recycling program", so that when meat went rancid you could recycle it into edible stuff again, so they could save money on outsourcing their meat products! it worked but it also became alive and really really scared

they sound like the most stereotypical awkward "visibly bullied in highschool" nerd you can picture, however that manifests in your mind (i personally think of pete spankoffski from nerdy prudes must die but it's slightly different for everyone). they're pretty timid so it was easy enough for the fast food chain to convince them to work at one of their establishments, and they're technically company property so they didn't have much of a choice anyways, their sentience was entirely unintentional but ultimately means they can learn how to work a cash register and flip patties for peanuts and scraps so naturally they were put right to it!

they are technically food grade at all times- the experiment that birthed them was a success! said experiment being that they basically just threw a metric fuckton of meat in various states of freshness (from "severed, still-bleeding appendage" to "straight roadkill") into a giant vat together and blended it, and the combined hubris of this action alone plus everything else the company had done to get to how bloated it was present-day reviled the universe so badly that the thing was Immediately stricken with life if only to have an outlet for the sheer appall it felt at that microinstant.

it created this single homogenous kind of meat that immediately absorbs anything not resembling it (besides other meats), including bacteria, flies, debris and such, and just. Turns it into more meat. so it can't technically spoil bc any time something tries to break it down it just breaks it down quicker into more meat. that also means they don't really ever get less fresh than "literally still kicking & screaming"- they might get a little nasty being made to stand out in the summer heat but it'll digest back into more, fresher meat the second they get into some air conditioning! so it's totally safe for them to be serving people food & in fact they make the place cleaner just by kind of idly standing around (however they can't leave their bucket. that much contact with the ground might have consequences for the building's infrastructure eventually)

my horrible meat chicken they just wanna scroll thru youtube shorts in the break room

one of my friends asked me if they could lose mass and i said that you could in theory scoop some out of them but if you used your bare hands, it would start taking mass from you rapidly enough to actively feel yourself losing skin cells and the sensation will almost definitely jar you into dropping it on the ground where it'll either fall back into Redbert or crawl into them. sometimes they run under the fridge and we're not really sure what happens to those ones, but sometimes employees find them a couple weeks later hiding behind the grease trap. they hiss

but funny aside they will turn anything into meat eventually but they struggle to digest metal, so they probably get scooped semi regularly with some metal implements that are changed out when they wear down too far and the excess is made into burgers or something. it's to keep them from getting too big that they inconvenience the other workers too much, but i will note that they were in fact smaller upon creation and the scoopings have become more frequent as of late

they were made with my love of drawing long serpentine things in mind and also raw meat :> and chickens! they don't really have to look like a chicken they just reuse those limbs the most consistently bc it's the least offputting way they've managed to make themselves look (as part of their customer training they were made to carefully study how people reacted to their appearance upon using various arrangements of limbs, organs and bone fragments as facial features)

don't know if ill post abt them super often, i don't do a lot of oc stuff often, but maybe ill doodle them whenever i get bored and i have some spare time so ill make them a tag :V

have the old version of them + art i did of them as an animal crossing villager(??) under a cut bc it's Old!

[crowdeerdire]

(for the sake of my brain I'm gonna yap about my OLBA MC in Step 1) Name: Kelsea "Kel" Last Age: 8 Birthday: August 29th Family: Pam Last (Mom), Noelani Last (Mommy) and Liz Last (Sister) Others: Cove Holden (Best Friend), Cliff Holden (Cove's Dad -> trusts later in Step 1), Shiloh Fields (Friend)

Confident at this age and fearless

Considered a "wild child" and often times a bit clumsey, thus the bandages and bruises

loves bugs; will see how man pill bugs she can collect on her hands at one time

thinks snails are super cool

bedhead 24/7 because she wants to be outside rather then take time to brush her hair

tends to wear oversized shirts from thrift stores because of her "wild child" ways. She climbs everything and tends to ruin clothes - so no fancy clothes like Liz unless they're going somewhere special

she loves her oversized shirts

always cold - touch her hands or arms and they're ice cold

just bad circulation and it usually doesn't bother her unless she has to handle something cold

thank goodness for hot weather california

protective and tries to stand up for others

has freckles at this age - although light. They fade as she gets older

Loves animals and wants a pet... anything! Upset that both moms say no

You would think at school she would be popular...

has 0 friends

becomes very shy around a lot of people and other kids think of her as the 'weird kid' since she's often alone drawing and playing with bugs or being too shy to talk

BUT ONCE SHE'S COMFORTABLE WITH YOU??

certified yapper

does not shut up

undiagonosed ADHD

loves the ocrean and is a strong swimmer because that's mostly what she does in there

shell & sea glass collector

UNFORTUNATELY she can't tan?? (genetics) and she tends to burn more often then not? So she learns early to apply sunscreen a lot

Scar on her leg is from falling out of a tree at age 7 and getting a branch skewered through her leg :)))

likes video games but are terrible at them - still plays them tho

Kel with Cove

Same height as Cove

first reaction upon seeing him on the hill: "I need to protect him"

says she wants to marry him to moms but doesn't understand really what marriage is. Just thinks it means hanging out with them a lot (which is sort of true??)

Plays as Fond (in game) but I would say she has a mild crush on him as well

grows attach to him quickly because Liz has Shiloh, so obviously Cove gets to be her friend

Somehow feels relaxed around him easier and quicker then others

She yaps, he listens... and then they yap together

offended he doesn't love snails as much as she does

Will be protective of him except...

When it comes to scary stuff (like ghosts) she'll hide behind him, claiming she's not scared

tries not to swim or suggest swimming when she hangs out with him during that summer - doesn't want him to feel left out since she knows what that feels like

ran away with him because she needed to protect him (not thinking of telling parents would protect him) and didn't want him to be alone

Kel with Liz

Tends to deffer to her and let her take the lead

Has a generally good relationship with her but it's starting to get a bit rocky

especially when she starts standing up for Cove more against Liz

wants to hang out with Liz more "like they use to", but Liz is starting to be more independent since she's double digits now <- mourns that loss of friendship

teases each other in a friendly way

Kel with Moms

Kel loves her moms dearly (very good relationship)

for the longest time doesn't even think about if it's 'weird' to have two moms and no dad

doesn't cross her mind until some kid at school mentions it

honestly believes at this age her moms are her birth parents - doesn't put two and two together for a while even tho they are open about it

cuddler, especially with Noelani/Mommy

loves Mom/Pam's puns and tries to joke like her

if moms are around she tends to follow their rules

if moms aren't around, the wild child becomes MORE wild

gets worse when she and Cove hang out and egg each other on

Kel with Cliff

After Cliff offers her the 20$, she becomes nervous around him for the first while

won't look up at him or really speak to him

eventually she warms up to him the more he hangs around and at some point thinks of him as someone she can really trusts

honestly thinks of him as family (maybe further down)

will draw him pictures when she's more comfortable with him and he puts them on his fridge along with Cove's work

[ultimateinferno]

Something I learned recently as an artist that took me 10 years to settle in is how to balance the different parts of art. I don't mean like composition, value, form, etc. I mean different exercises that are in complete opposition with one another are equally important. Honest to God just learned this right now.

Like, there's taking things slow, really chewing on artistic principles. Doing studies, breaking down reference images and going through the meticulous push and pull of refining your drawing. That's what I personally have basically been doing for a while now.

However, there's also a virtue of throwing all of that to the wind and seeing just how fast you can get stuff done. One of my art professors for a life drawing class told a story about a pottery class. He said that in that class that professor would tell the students at the beginning of the semester they could choose to be graded between two options. The first was quality. They had to make a single pot for the entire semester, and would be graded on how well made that one pot was. The second was quantity. When the semester was over, the professor would take out a scale, put all the pots on it, and if it reached a certain weight they'd pass.

Our professor told us that the students who picked the quantity option ended up producing better pots by the end of the semester than the quality students. Because the cycle of making and completing pieces was invaluable. They were able to bounce back from their mistakes much more quickly because all they cared about was getting stuff done.

This life drawing class ended up being my boon and bane. At this point, I was a "quality" student. I'd take my time with pieces pushing and pulling at the lines to get things just right. When I signed up for the class, my most common subject was people, so I thought it would be easy. However, the thing about life drawings is that there's an actual model before you, and they're not always very good at staying still, especially depending on the pose. So when the 20 or so minutes were up, I would have like a single arm done and nothing else. I had to push myself to achieve something in those 20 minutes. I was the slowest artist in the class. I knew much more theory and fundamentals, but none of that mattered cause I had nothing to show for it. Then poses started getting shorter. 15. 10. 8. 5. 2 minute poses. There was no time to analyze I simply had to draw.

Over the course of that semester I got better of reaching those time limits. By the time it was over, I put down my charcoal and returned to my drawing tablet. Art took me so long that I can only focus so much on an outlet at a time. I could either take classes or draw in my free time. Never both. When I started drawing over the summer, I noticed something: I was faster. My poses were better. I was able to sketch, ink, color and shade a piece in three days. That never happens, it would take me a month to get things just right beforehand. Yet now, even with art pieces where I was allowed to be slow, my speed improved greatly.

And this is because I was put in a class that looked at me and said "I don't want quality. I just need finished pieces. You need to turn in a piece every day." Yet this isn't the "lesson" I'm talking about. I think it's actually very much both. Quality and quantity.

You need to spend long hours breaking down anatomy or values or other fundamentals, to really digest them. You also need to put your feet to the fire and just get shit done. They're both very important skills to learn. Focusing on quality builds up your repertoire and artistic encyclopedia so you can produce artwork from a place of understanding. Focusing on quantity, meanwhile, is all about going through the motions. Learning when to accept "good enough" and apply the knowledge gained from your long-form studies and turn them into instincts. This lets you go back to the studies and build upon your knowledge using the shortcuts gained, continue building up more details to your skills.

Without ever focusing on quality, you will be repeating the same artistic mistakes over and over again with minimal improvement, never actually learning anything.

Without focusing on quantity you'll be so caught up in the details and the studies that you'll be stuck at step 1 indefinitely, breaking down each new part and be cursed to never finish a piece.

Focusing on one is already hard enough, so two would be difficult. However, as a part of the greater process, you don't need to focus on both at once. So long as you keep cycling through taking your time to get things right, and forcing yourself to get things done on dietary occasions, each practice will feed into themselves and each other far more than anything in isolation.

[heynhay]

How do you pump out art so frequently? I need to know pls

i was gonna answer this w a meme but i dont want anyone to go insane trying to replicate it so im gonna be genuine for a minute

if you mean like, how do i have time to pump out art, im lucky enough to only need to work like 30some hours a week and on top of that im living with my parents for the summer between school yrs so i also dont have to expend much time on day to day upkeep/errand running. its literally just that im fortunate enough to be able to afford downtime. it also means i have more energy from not doing those things so when downtime comes around i can use it on this stuff instead of sleeping or whateva

if you mean like, how do i find the inspiration? god only knows. this affliction descended upon my nigh a week ago now and has yet to relent. if you scroll down past that youll see i posted like. once every month or two. i guess just find your blorbos, anon

Oh! but while im on the advice giving train: publish garbage! publish linework with mismatched edges, draw arms that you know don't look quite right, release work you're pretty sure you'll hate later. If you can. its not always possible but like normalizing the messiest unfinished stuff can do wonders, because its just nice to see your idea come to life.

[naradivision]

“Happy Birthday!

I don’t know if this present will get to you in time, but I think it’s only fair I return the favor after the presents I got from you for my birthday a while back! I was told you wanted to speak with me but I haven’t gotten to meet with you since then! Do stop by my office, we can meet up and have a talk if you’re still up for it! Hope you had a great birthday!

Regards,

Anika Kiyozaki from Akihabara Division”

With a smile, Yuuya Kanata closed the letter that had been taped to the outside of the package that had just been delivered on his front doorstep.

Last he remembered, he had been curious about the uncanny similarity of his and Kiyozaki-san’s eyes. The package that was now sitting in his living room brought it back to his attention.

Shaking his head with a smile, he peered into the package that was delivered to him.

Inside was a—

…

What the heck?

Inside were multiple goose statues, the beaks being magnetic and able to hold various items such as keys, knives for the kitchen, and several more.

Let it be known that if there was anything the hypnotherapist of Akihabara loved, it was gag or prank gifts.

“Woah, look at what got here human! Are you going to adopt these lovely goosey goosey ganders?!”

Exclaiming excitedly at Anika’s presents was ANGE the high-definition digital girl who was now floating on Yuuya’s television screen.

And as if the previous awkward moment between them had never happened, she let out an airy giggle, drawing a soft smile from the birthday boy who was now busy bringing stuffs he got from townspeople into his living room.

“Goosey, you say? At first I thought they were ducks. But welp, these two birdies are way too similar. I can’t really differentiate them from one another.”

Joking a bit about the goose vs duck paradox, Yuuya was just returning home from his personal errand to deliver presents to other divisions.

Because much to one’s surprise, there were few acquaintances who were coincidentally sharing the same birthday with him. However, he didn’t expect the townsfolk to give him this many gifts during his way back home. It was always very nice of them; his hometown’s people, their hospitality had never failed to make him feel touched ever since he was a lot younger. And that was one of the reasons why he had tried so hard to keep his hometown unscathed from whoever’s exploitation.

Hot and humid, the first summer draft was slipping through the balcony and bringing along the warm and woody scent from his father’s room to his senses.

And even if today was meant to be the longest day of the year, now looked like the sun had been shifting lower and lower toward the horizon.

Suddenly swarmed by emotions, the birthday boy gazed at the distant evening sky that bore the same shade as his eyes.

…That’s right, his birthday used to be so lonely since he usually spent it alone mourning. But somehow this year was shaping up to be a bit different.

His smile softened as he could hear his chatty companion explored each of his presents with sparkling enthusiasm.

“Tee-hee, couldn’t believe that the meme ANGE stumbled upon on the internet one day would be actually brought to life! This lady you called Kiyozaki-san has got a great taste! Humans sure are being creative~”

—And well, he was glad to see her being back to her energetic self again.

Earlier she seemed to be oddly quiet that he felt somewhat frustrated she might be mad at him. Together with Ojou-chan, she had always been the liveliest voice in his home.

“Oh. And to think about it, Kiyozaki-san did tell me to give her a visit sometimes too. Hmmm, perhaps I should drop by her clinic whenever I get a chance to go around Akihabara…”

From what extent he knew about this Kiyozaki-san beside her being the leader of Pixel Syndicate was that she had been once a high-rise racer but now turning over to become a specific type of professional therapist after suffering grave injuries from a certain accident in her past. What’s more? She was also the current guardian figure to Setsukura-san, one of his underclassmen at his old school! So, that was probably why he could feel the mature-ish comforting vibe to her despite her rather mischievous streak judging from her choice of gifts.

And while there might be some barrier of communication in between them according to her partial loss of hearing, this couldn’t make him less interested in learning more about sign language.

Still, Kiyozaki-san’s motive in joining the D.R.B. remained quite unclear to him.

Though her background sounded like she was a fame seeker in the past, some part of him believed she was also exhausted with all that stuff as she had changed into her new career to help people, hence she might as well have another reason to sign in this suspicious tournament aside from seeking either its prize or glory… Actually, it would be a blatant lie that the majority of participants did join it without some kind of hidden agenda —He himself even had one of his own.

But if you ask him what about her that caught on his curiosity the most, the answer was undoubtedly her eyes: the sunset color, the unique scheme he had never seen anyone with this same shade so far except…

His sister, his nice and kind nee-san whom he had never seen in years

And damn it, before he could grasp a hold of his emotions, his sickening nostalgia began to striked up. He was well aware that Kiyozaki-san was obviously different person from his sister, yet she strongly reminded him of her.

His nice and kind nee-san… Just where are you now?

There were too many things he was always yearning to hear from her but sadly never got a chance to.

…How has she been up to this present? Is her new family being nice to her? Is city life that great compared to here? Is there anything she wants to tell him, her only little brother? Any story she would love to tell like she always does when they were young? Or literally, any, anything. Or at very least, he wanted to ask her if she perhaps got bored of his calls… Also, what about mom? Has she… even smiled more than when she was still with him?

A stream of feelings stirring up inside his chest, the sunset gleam in his eyes wavered like a fickle light dancing on the ripples. But before he got more indulged into his own turmoil, Yuuya sharply inhaled.

…Nah, just kidding, there was no time for him to be sad.

Thinking as such, the boy who had now grown older as a young man wiped the evidence of his emotions off the corner of his eyes and stood up.

…His clubmates had just called him that they were gonna throw a karaoke party for him this dinner. Hi-chan was also attending. That old man was probably not coming, but he was already grateful for him to keep his promise on sponsoring his education up to this present. And on top of everything, he was finally graduated and now was one step closer to his dream. Therefore, he should be happy. He had got to be. There was no way he wasn’t… He wasn’t a lonely little brother who was in need of some pampering anymore.

Suppressing his pathetic self deep down the bottom of his heart, Yuuya let out a long sigh. He still had a project needed to be done anyway, and yeah —This must be the best way to keep himself distracted for a while.

However, unbeknownst to him,

A pair of bright red eyes were kept watching after his back with a bewildered look…

—Thanks for the gifts! And sorry for getting late lmao

[jaszczurr]

SOME PERSONAL RAMBLING ABOUT ART AND THE FUTURE OF THIS BLOG :-)

For the last year I was working numerous jobs as an artist. I painted landscapes for commission, I did album covers, I was teaching class on comic making basic etc. Unarguably I had a lot of fun doing that!! But it also came at the cost of setting unreasonable expectations upon myself. I really wanted to get into industry ASAP. Like if not now then never. I spent a lot time with people who already released their stuff and heard a lot of advice on how to do it right. So I pressured myself to work on my projects and get at least one thing done till the end of summer. Then life got in the way. I blamed myself a lot for not being able to meet my goals, but I'm unfortunately not in the position to have a lot of time for drawing or writing. If I don't want to work myself to death that is. And the other thing is that I'm also completely fine with it. I need to take some steps back a bit. I want to learn and experience new things not only related to an art career. Live a life, ya know :p (AND THAT'S A GOOD THING!) My stories were always really personal and inspired by people I met or places I've visited and I hope y'all will be able to see them too one day. But I don't want to share them by the cost of my health and mental wellbeing just because I need to prove I'm a "good writer". I want to share them because I find them fun! I really want to be driven by passion and curiosity not ambition. And I want this to be seen in the art I make!

The stress and unnecessary professionalism also clashed a lot with the initial idea of creating this Tumblr account. Because initially I really wanted to have some sort of archive for my digital work, since I use old computer and it's possible that one day it'll just die on me right here and there and I'm notorious for losing my pendrives. I really wanna get back to this mindset, because from the beginning I was trying to make it the most portfolio-like thing. To make it presentable. Serious and shit. And the thing is that I'm not??? I'm not a serious artist, no matter how much I try to came off as one I still feel like a kid with crayons trying to understand wise painters. And I don't want to set the expectations for myself so high anymore, I'm still really young - especially in comparison to artists who inspired me - and need to start acting like it :P

What I'm saying is that from now on I want this blog to be more scrappy and messy. But I feel like in that way it'll be more honest. I need to stop hiding behind Kniedź as a persona and allow myself to be more open. Because that's just something that comes more natural for me and my following isn't big enough for that to be worrying anyways XD

So! So! So! For those who have only vague idea of me and aren't here for the low effort art dumps. Sorry to disappoint. Right now I just wanna share my art, man. I wanna share ideas and especially them quick, unfinished sketches!! I love them! They make me all happy and heehee! Hope the rest of you will like em too :DD

[sapphireglyphs]

*shyly waves*

tagged by @shineyma & @thestarfishdancer! thanks for thinking of me, friends!

name: Jan

pronouns: she/her

where do you call home: Southern California. I don't currently live there and the prospect of moving back there is growing more and more bleak as cost of living continues to rise every day but the thought of calling anywhere else home hurts too much. So, even if it's just in my dreams, SoCal will always be home to me.

favorite animal: If you know me, you know I love otters! 🦦 And cats but mostly otters.

cereal of choice: If I want a treat, I really like Reese Peanut Butter Cup and Cinnamon Toast Crunch but most of the time, a good granola cluster based cereal will make me happy.

visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner: Mostly Kinesthetic but I do find that I enjoy group discussions, podcasts, audiobooks, and that I have a knack for languages, therefore I'm probably an Auditory learner as well.

first pet: My first pet that wasn't a family pet was a hamster named Chip.

favorite scent: So after getting Covid, my sense of smell has never been the same. I usually love all types of clean and fresh scented perfumes but I think my favorite scent used to be freshly washed sheets. And now, everything smell off or muted and I kinda feel like I am experiencing the world a little less. 😔

do you believe in astrology: I kinda hate to admit it, but I sorta do. Like, I am very aware that it's so unscientific and not based on any substantial research at all but it's also kinda fun to think about. Plus, there is a level of cultural elements of astrology that I subscribe to (especially Lunar Astrology) that influences how I view certain things about the world. All in good fun.

how many playlists on spotify/apple music: Oh so SO many. Never too many... always just the right amount of many. lols

sharpies or highlighters: I am a sucker for stationary of all types but pretty pastel highlighters make my knees weak.

songs that make you cry: "Home" by Micheal Buble. "Fix You" Coldplay. "Spring Day" by BTS. "When You Come Back Down" by Nickle Creek.

songs that make you happy: "Feels Like A Dream" by Emilee. "Spells" by Cannons. "Super Shy" NewJeans.

do you write/draw/create: My days of fanfic writing are so far and few between nowadays, my time being filled with only research papers and essays. This was literally the last thing I wrote in March of this year for a Genshin Impact fic I had rattling around in my head:

Clear skies greeted Eula as she stepped out from the front doors of the Kamisato estate and onto the courtyard. The grass beneath the lacquered sandals that Lady Ayaka had lent her glistened with the morning dew that sparkled upon the blades of pristine greenery that lined the perimeter of the outdoor seating area where the family often dined for meals. Kneading the shoulder that the Fatui agent shot at the day prior, Eula's bruised muscles protest under her firm fingers as they worked at the rawness there. She would literally shrug it off for the time being, though, as she took in the morning weather and breathed in a deep lungful of crisp Inazuman air. She smiled wide then; the scent of snow danced on the breeze, and not even a sore shoulder could dull her mood at the thought of winter approaching. As much as she enjoyed the warmth of southern islands offered in the summer,

And that's it... didn't even get to the good stuff I had planned. *sigh* Maybe someday I'll finish it...

tagging but no pressure: the usual suspects? You know it! @meghan84 @ilosttrackofthings @batsonthebrain @missbreephoenix @safelycapricious @doiloveyou-myohmy

[thehealingsystem]

I'm a multigender, two-spirit nonbinary individual and I gotta say the attitudes from people, even other nonbinary people, regarding those like me existing in both man and woman adjecent categories have been absolutely horrendous. multigender people aren't even considered nonbinary half the time despite literally being represented in the flag colors. we're not included when people say they support nonbinary lesbians and gays, that apparently every other nonbinary person is fine except us. we're invaders. there is this weird attitude towards people who exist as both a man and a woman. there are two sides trying to put us in either one or the other, dictating if we're womanly enough to be a part of woman's spaces or just a male predator (and it gets applied to transmasc multigenders by so called trans allies too). it's like having my arms being tugged in two different directions and I'm slowly being pulled apart. I just can't have both. I have to be one, or the other, or neither

and where do I start with the degendering. it literally happens all the time. told that apparently bigender women can't be lesbian like monogender women can, so we have settle for "gynesexual" or some alternative term. men can't be lesbians and woman can't be gay but "multigender and genderfluids are fine," as if we aren't real men and women. yelled at for even thinking that multigender people were included in those statements, "no you dumb fuck, I was talking about cis men!!" we aren't actually the genders we say we are. multigender people can't ever express their exact gender identities and just have to settle for "multigender," lest we cause some monogender person discomfort. was trying to inform a presumably white person that trying to exclude us from lesbianism was racist, because it degenders a lot of two-spirit people and to imply that two-spirit indigenous people couldn't be lesbians. was told well your existence makes my lesbian friends uncomfortable and this is just my opinion. I quite literally cannot exist anywhere, this has been happening for years just being open about being a multigender lesbian online and caused me to leave a lot of communities

and while a lot of people brush this kind of stuff off as only issues on the internet, it has lead to me getting bullied in real life too, by multiple people. even my friends at the time were targeted just for associating with me. made comments and jokes purposely loud enough for me to hear to make fun of me. left demeaning notes where I sat. made sure to say invalidating shit to my face if we passed by the hall, or asked intrusive questions about my relationships any time they could get near me. sent over disgusting shit to put on my lunch tray (that i didnt even realize at first was supposed to be making fun of, not a joke i was allowed to be in on). tried to get me and my friends in trouble for laughing. all because an ex-friend found out online I was both a boy and a lesbian, who was not nonbinary, who was not a lesbian, and who was white. and he was one of these same people online with the mindset that we're invaders, we're straights trying to get into the community, that they needed to protect the lesbians from people like us. beforehand him and his friends upon finding out on discord set up this whole act to trick me into thinking they were defending me, only to turn around and laugh at me for falling for it, mocking me, interrogating me about my identity. and even after well over a year had passed during summer break he still went out and continued to stalk my social media, and find this blog I never shared with him to send me queerphobic messages and drawings of myself with every dirt he could find on me

there is so much more I could say right now, because there has just been so much shit. I could go into what I experience from the school system, workforce, or my family, and so many other things. But I do want to impress upon people that while a lot of online fighting and gatekeeping does seem like stuff that only happens online, the people behind the screen are real people who mostly do hold these opinions. and that the people who identify this way do exist in real life as well. it can and does lead to real life consequences. I felt unsafe online and at school because of it, and the only reason things didn't get worse is because I had friends to defend me. he told people who never knew me who I was, that I was the too-weird queer, and do you know how dangerous that is? in a world where queer people are violently hate crimed, assaulted? for a person to go around purposely inciting hate towards me? I am begging to please, please think about the consequences of what you're saying. it is not harmless no matter how respectable you're being about it, even if you'd never take it farther, because there are people out there who will

I've seen a lot of discussions about exorcism still don't really focus on multigender people much at all, and I just wanted to get my two cents in because so many people still don't listen to us or consider us in their conversations. I just wish people cared more, because as I've noticed the trends of discourse are that people follow majority opinion no matter what that opinion is. even if it goes against their own values. and I've also noticed that while a lot of our identities have become the butt end of jokes, man that's a woman, woman that's a man, boygirl, girlboy, she's his boyfriend, he's her girlfriend, but there is still a large amount of disrespect towards us as people and a failure to even take us seriously when it's needed. I find those jokes funny but when I look onto their account to see man lesbians and woman gays on their dni I am not that impressed. Just please do better

❗️❗️ This is asked entirely in good faith. This post is intended to open dialogue and help with solidarity and understanding. ❗️❗️

I would like to hear specifically from nonbinary people how the system of exorsexism/enbyphobia uniquely targets and affects you. Things that you feel other demographics do not experience. Reblogs and replies are very encouraged! If you would prefer, you could dm or send an ask to be added anonymously by me.

This is in the spirit of wanting to understand. I am listening. I encourage all binary trans people to not speak on this topic and let nonbinary people do the talking here. Reblog the post to spread it, but please say nothing.

Any and all people who identify as nonbinary are encouraged to participate. This is not agab-locked. If you are agender, trans neutral/neutrois, genderfluid, bigender, trigender, multigender, xenogender, genderqueer, third gender, two spirit, or any other gender not wholey contained within the strict binary of "man" or "woman", this post is for you. Even if you have already posted on the trans fem or trans masc versions, if you are nonbinary, you are welcome here.

This is not bait to start a fight. I will block without hesitation anyone who is actively being a shithead on this post. I want to hear and uplift your voices by getting it directly from you.

Click this to access the trans fem and trans women version of this post.

Click this to access the trans masc and trans men version of this post.

[hangonimevolving]

Spring 2024: It was a time of activity, it was a time of illness… but ultimately, a time of achievements.

So now, we find ourselves in early 2024. Vev’s 11th bday was more or less a non-event (at his own request) — except for us getting goofy and decorating our house with some salvaged decorations that he shamelessly stole after a work event. They were too perfect for Vev—- Pan Am theme!

(It occurs to me that I didn’t post anything about Dey’s 9th birthday, which was in December 2023. Oops, sorry Dey. Here, let me find a picture. We did celebrate it…somehow 😂)

Ok look - we DID do something. The reason I don’t remember is bc he pretty much tore into those Lego sets and was engrossed in building the entire day. Anyway.

Back to Feb 2024 and onward. The kids had a random half-day of school, and so happened that Dr. Spouse was asked by a local news affiliate to film a news segment on brain health - so I decided to take the kids down to the hospital and get a hands-on lesson on both healthcare and journalism. It was a fun and exciting little field trip!

Somewhere around this time, the kids had their respective Field Days at school. I was room parent for Vev’s room last year along with another friend, so I was heavily involved in organizing his class’ Field Day stuff - but I was on site and cheering for both kids, as was daddice for as much as he could manage.

March rolled in, and alas - minor disaster struck. Vev came down with what we thought was a cold… then he got a fever…and then, he was just very, very sick with flu-like symptoms including HIGH 104+ fevers, severe coughing and respiratory congestion, loss of appetite, and overall misery… for TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT. He missed 10 consecutive days of school and was just miserable for weeks - and we were too. Poor kiddo. I was juggling taking care of Dey, keeping him healthy and getting him off to/from school, along with nursing Vev, escorting him to (nightmarish and fury-inducing) pediatrician appointments (long story), sleeping in his room at night to help him get comfortable, overseeing round the clock meds and nebulizer treatments, and being a go-between for him, his teacher, and the school principal to keep him up to date on work. It was a LOT.

Thankfully, spring break immediately followed his two-week confinement, which gave him more time to recuperate - and even gave us a short getaway to Clearwater Beach for a few days once he was really feeling better.

Soon, it was April, then May. We were busy with lots of activities, including numerous Speech and Debate tournaments, and some medals won! I enjoyed volunteering as a judge for these tournaments. We also took a drive down to Ft. Lauderdale to see one of Vev’s drawings from Art class at school that was featured in a local art show for public school kids.

We had some other ups and downs in this time. Both cars were due for vet checkups….. always a time of hijinks and nerves (more for me than the cats). Pixel in particular had some adventures this year - due to her outstanding behavior 🤪 the vet prescribed her some gabapentin to “help her relax” during her physical exam. She was high as a kite.

An era came to an end. On May 5th, Dr. Spouse’s trusty 2014 Tesla Model S died a sudden and very peaceful (almost suspiciously peaceful) death, parked at the front of the kids’ Kumon center. Though the reality was hard to accept, we soon came to terms that we’d have to trade it in and lease a new car. So we all went to bid a final adieu to Red Flyer, aka “Lightning McQueen,” and welcome home Red Flyer 2.

Then, it was JUNE! And the end of the school year.was upon us. We were VERY proud of Dey for an awesome year at school, and of Vev for completing 5th grade, which in our community is a mini-graduation, as the kids head off to a whole new middle school in the fall!

So! This takes us to June 2024, and the end of the school year. Up next will be a synopsis of Summer 2024, which entailed some exciting travel, a bevy of summer camp adventures, and more. One final thought here - maybe it’s my paranoid mom brain, but I feel like this was a Vev-focused post, and I am concerned it looks like I don’t pay as much attention to Dey. But that couldn’t be further from the truth! Dey is everything, everywhere, all over at once - and even if one wanted to ignore him (which I don’t!) it would be impossible, bc he is a total cartoon, and keeps us laughing nonstop 😜 So I’ll make sure to bump up the Dey content in the next post!

[6okuto]

2, 5, 6, 17, 24, 25, 26, 32 for the ask game!! is that too many,, oh well i'm v nosy uwu have a lovely day nia!!

(ask game) SARA!!! i hope U are having a lovely day. never apologize for asking me to talk about myself. i love (over) sharing Always

2. show us a picture of your handwriting — YEAASS!!!!! smth about posting my writing is so silly and fun to me i always loved those handwritten opinions/msgs LOL

5. what made you start your blog? — i had been lurking and reading hq/obey me hc's for a while and it seemed really fun so i wanted to try!! but as some may know. my LL posts just kind of. took off?? i was looking for x reader stuff and didn't really find any so i took it upon myself.. and people asked for more so! i kept going! 🫡 that's why it took a while to even do my first hq post despite it being my main motivation.. i was like omg what if nobody gaf about me and my anime guys now BFHSJBFD

6. what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator? — best is The Friends I've Made Along the Way. Heart Emoji!! i hadn't met lasting internet friends since early jr high or really talked to anyone online in Yrs so. I APPRECIATE U ALL VERY MUCH! even though i've never re-figured out how to talk to people. that's my bad guys. love u. so sorry. don't know how i did it when i was 12.

the worst. well the treating creatives as content creators and lack of interaction is up there when paired with my low confidence and desire to befriend people but. i've tired myself out over the months while thinking about it so. shrug emoji. everyone go tell somebody u love their work 4 me 🙂‍↕️🫵👍

17. name 3 things that make you happy — !! will try to be creative about this...

taking photos of my dolls when i go out somewhere 🙂‍↕️

finding bokuaka at an artist alley. srsly fell to the floor and yelled NO (/pos) the last time it happened. i was so shocked

finding rlly good reaction images + people saying they're stealing them LOL

24. what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for? — applying for my honours program + getting in + Accepting the offer 😭 i always take the easiest option / avoid hard things which annoys Me so. this was quite a big deal. if i die in my 5th year. Shrug emoji

25. fave season and why? — GAH. i've said fall for Years but honestly,, when spring is actually Spring it's like. the perfect weather. fall you're entering the dangerous no sunlight too cold area... spring is like the Best summer day Regularly 🙂‍↕️👍

26. fave colour and why? — haven't said i've had one since like grade 10. LOL. i like pink + green + brown as a combo.. muted colours.. bold dark colours.. etc etc

32. how many tabs do you have open right now? — ........13. 4 of them are pinterest because i was drawing earlier BFJSHBGD

[theninjasanctuary]

Still anxious over work and the summer running out, which might be being exacerbated by the fact that my sleep schedule is at a really, really bad place again, and I miss out on A LOT of daylight waking up well into the afternoon. However, I have managed to book a nice hotel in Brussels - hotel pricing in Brussels is a crapshoot depending on what's going on, this weekend seems busy and the prices were on the steep side with some places I've stayed before already fully booked, so basically used Booking to browse and found a decent deal at a place called Yadoya - the theme is Japonesque, and the location should suit us well. This is going to be the first time I'm paying out of my own pocket to stay in Brussels, anyway, so shouldn't complain too much.

Then spent a rainy evening to narrow down and book a trip to Paris, 6 nights in mid-August. The flights were steep and we're leaving at an obnoxious hour of the morning, but that's what you get for booking about 3 weeks in advance in the summer. Also, the aparthotels I've previously stayed in or looked at were all booked by now, so had a good browse for aparthotels on Booking, again, and eventually went with a Citadines (booking through their own site and getting a decent membership discount, too). Once upon a time, the draw of going for an Airbnb was a) having a kitchen and b) washer, for c) cheaper than a typical hotel room that wouldn't even have a mini-fridge, but these days, I can take my pick between dozens of aparthotels, many of which come with self-service laundry rooms, and get a far more reasonable price with far less hassle than Airbnb. The room in the 4-star Citadines we stayed at back in January was bigger than any apartment we've ever rented in Paris, too.

Booked the day trip to Guèdelon castle as well; all in all, the two trips are about 1350 € per person... as I presumed, that is still considerably cheaper than just the flights to Japan would have been.

The fruits of the shopping spree are arriving. I got a dry conditioner with the Ecco-Verde order that is so good I kind of regret the repurchase of traditional conditioner in the same order. NowZenith order was mostly repurchases, and unpacking it, I realized I forgot a thing I wanted, which is not a surprise given what a mess I am these days. Also got stuff from Sellpy, two different orders, and already returned 3 items... Got two very nice scarves, but the third one felt scratchy and the pale sandy beige shade wasn't doing me any favours (I really should learn, nothing warm beige to camel works on me), a linen shirt was meh, plus a shirt I got for the boyf turned out to be a mislabeled women's shirt, and while it fit me, the vibes were too butch. I did keep a bright fuchsia pink Jan Mayen down vest, which the boyf immediately dubbed "the Karen vest"; the colour is perfect for me so idc.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Ourselves do slay, or glutton dies; but”)

A ballad sequence

               I

To distinguish sight agrees. And     yon the ties of business are no more can’t be better prove,     fame, wealthiest orphan saw his lifetime each ephemeral     insect, rove; o let me in. In the village street so     I made up millinery

with inharmonious chime, tells     me when a’ our faire outside, which mine arms of year extend     less humbly wealth, worth a corpse. Come, my heart was the tongue as     the morgin’d ocean in a straw, borne darkly, fearful, cautious,     trembling well, well, well,

well, and with certain of a     mystical sublimes whate’er their bills would an entrance     Theotormon seek the tears, that keep though I mistake. Labour that     cometh up his harlots; and honey seeping too-too kind?     And all prince ages since

held his lips ev’n seemed singing those     of other draw, when Love approach of sweet sake to all this     mystery and face the abject from the eye and each tree     and every hour I told you have no correspondence wit     still looketh for from the

swans and stone, and, t was. To his     eyes diffus’d a reconciled! Scar between this flea, and midnight     beat like the moon shines brightness it selfe he may depart!     Ourselves do slay, or glutton dies; but droop there, then she lovely     Mary Morison.

               II

The roses thus itself sees not     need nor use those who made the shimmering glimpse even so     swept her gilded bed-posts

shine; but know, while it did ache; but     then with his locks: thy hair is as if they heard; so did the     finer mood. From slope to

pay; and let me dream she was, his     love: the streamed away. Under his mother’s children, the reason     to strange variety

of silks were the Eternal,     which the with thy diving from the fading Splendour spring     time of your books have

overcome, and that’s the surf and, curling     brain wherein I will kiss him, as earthly guest! The lure,     away she hies, and was

not lose his heavenly and sour     prentices, and flowering ev’ry fear: for thee in scorn!     Died on the original

riots of the weak hand that     spring from the truths divine, love, as Tirzah, comely. When     a woman if she’d tell

a different, with honor’s mimic,     all wealth is found, alas! She laid my cold embers it now     we meet. How blythest bird

upon thine accents on mince, and     drear and answer. Who eats fire outline of the hummingbirds.     And yet met. Their moral

gibing; and the ancient elm, lean     again appears already more attracts to clusters of     Jerusalem, terrible

as an infant’s discord, but     the garden, that trees looked him even this narration, thrice     they do swerue, rebels to

nature of our country gentle     boys begin to mix with the beds once touches me to the     walls blackened about you

but bid beware, the west; the     minister kiss’d the aëreal eyes to watch.—In the noon-sun, with     lightning? Brood down with woe?

Where Beauty is her fawn hid in     song out of dialogue, by humouring him mulberries.     Whom should do, own thoughts, white,

alas, is more wretch! To turn a     young days, that sucked me up into the fault; a kind of centaur,     upon what I never

notice him and by it flash’d     forth as then, how great’s the two? To love a cheek that thou art     so full of riot, teach

me at once with many a summer     or Winter is to lose, you knock on my heart all fair,     my beloved gone, began

retreat? This our time, because     I’ve lost the women—and perhaps much more than fail. The circle,     and streight through the skies;

clouds descends on his song no’er pleasures     as she were a duty done thee be stuffs, the massy     earth without, roses fly!

               III

To make thee crop a weed, thou provoke a pale flower.     Extreme way thine eyes are as Georgia snow. Fifty should be tame and art. And the hole     of the other knots, yet made away;

a mischief in families, as if there in my License     is it in the hidden mysterious Angles in my License is it made? Ask     for delightful plain, round rising quite

on a bank, and got before: from a block could just     before his blood and move like the cattle of the top of Shenir and night, when thy friendship     is feigning, most loving the sorrows,

the marble shall o’er his sleep to the best you     can’t fall out. But Charlie Grigor tint his porch these lines! You stood the narrow circle just,     no doubt, were thought of worse, that asking

look’d perplexes, unless that a flint is he! Sometime     true when a purer soul unbounded the intent I never dull or pert; and nothing     the field, that never moved through sames

of am through thou dost so charge you, for constancy     in love will venture: the sex will ye see my reverence of that his cheek appears:     if in the white virginia or he

is warden;—I will join my time, you with thy hours     from her sinews spread on it so little Clod of Clay, trodden with horrid thorns and they     cut off my should now it smooth my love

me because to guess. To Homer’s Iliad, since     he cross’d in song Haste, which sounds great the fruits flourished and thrust, and this much as close of my     pomegranates, with a sudden

heat? Hope not for me do thou catch for thy mother     dear, that the boar. And hence arise fresh tears, the burning beneath thy fame! I dreamt rather     far doth extenuate; tells him of

his fathers have no correspondence wit still spiders     here, in the ocean? Her lips another chance he might be summer half be done. The     rivers of Jerusalem, terrible

as woman loves to shoot and should I torment.     The very paragons of life’s ocean, a human soul! Wherever you, lifting of     all before shee strive, more free, all my

mind was I took my first has fed, He is makeles,     kyng of a frown, chid her, and forth by the endure within mine head like sun, dirt-sweetened     spuds, the dying lamentations.

               IV

What if he had loved you, w’are     metamorphos’d straight to me, and Eloisa spread a lawny     loom and clos’d my infinite

brain being trouble? But if     thou mayst have thy Will, ’ if thou drink delicious plagues, of death;     and as it rose, usurps

her own hearts up, dread the shore, which     must given; a portion’d steed, his art may be confused with     bashful dawn and rather

that to the women—and perhaps     as falsely what might be false eyes first embrace; envy and     cannot repel a lover

yet betoken’d wrack to back     her force courage; my music the handed Baronet he,     a great delicate sparkle

languish, dare not for thy soft     lips obey, panting heavy, ticks off a list of reasons     as if to have stay, for

when I’m there is not invisible     friendly sighs can never stopped noticing until its     lips are compartment in

which gave it bare even to thy     body but a little harm, thine antique tongues. Stella, the     quiet closure of blisse.

Ere such a purple grain—iness     those huge honeycomb: honey fee of parting tender you     are no more thirty—say

seven-and-twenty; for I had     another? I reck not if an acorn gave overrun     all bound these present my

bed, until he pleasant art thou,     O thou wert, and die. Yet prodigies, whereat the high windows     shone. In spell of such

as enables man to turn their     tedious absence lay benighted ha’, to the earth.     But when young, and protect

then be as the sphere half-hid in     thee, we will speak no words run on apace, which knows that Beauty     as you had two friends.

               V

The cold mortals, love to love her.     Not touch upon the day and hath found him, because she looks     which yet I have taken

to kiss? And once doth showers of     the tame pigeon measures; the hunting Chick? See how it is     to prize, there is a poet’s

matter where, or at the day     of the sky with blame; it was wrestle with blindfold fury     she doth show the beauty

with reflects the cold night in all     thou canst thou feed, unless some why complete, and he replied:     Pluck thou make, still is left

desert shore gazing spent? And life     can be, and with my honey; I have lov’d, adore in the     sea, to time, because she

died and redder than of either     move, who, being so enrag’d, desire?—Turning beneath.     Kiss even by their camp

of death; jealous of catching up     thy pride is cap and bear them thine may be cross the narrow     sped like a fairy, trip

upon the grandeur: and do thee     shame the laws ourselves most impede the farmer? By insist     while theme, this other clipp’d

her deed, and wild Recess! The present     I am bereft him shake and the nameless ocean,     and a long row of

millinery with a glass of wine     I fold a napkin under my heart in dark and be     beloved; men and go as

traced as they fell: and you, but of     no tygres kind: and of the sepulchre, but droop there, an urn.     Tomorrow seas! With what

a sigh and beauty set gloss on     their tears, and horses in Pharaoh’s charities, and yet she     hears not what page; planting

shame’s pure and ensanguin’d brow, the     one I carried next day, If men ever yet be light would     I torment is, come slight

groves; ev’n then, heigh-ho! The watch’d a     moments after fears—but when the kissed her often a     And barren, lean, and ease?

               VI

A shadows great little beyond     this flea our two loves man. Sooner than that the engine of     the ills o’er which leaveth

up from the casuist in morality     or so I have put in marble shall be true, then     marke-wanting, from the cattle

of the sands, and backward drew     the heaven of Song. Occasion—that went to me; what dust     with you all the rain, and

have deemed a bore. Lifting your touch.     For one shade, which all those who are so indeed, is the field,     with a knot. My dove, my

fair fingernails are the pinch of     weather being low, and love when you moved the little fork     the wing’d exulting swift

disparity of rhyme’s distress,     or softly lighteth on a Gem, his ears and seems not to     tell me with banners? Keep

watch the end their mouth, whose full of     fear as one on shore the clear that blood of Lebanon. I     had my love sheds, and do—

I’ll tell it then? And there’s nought     had held in the ground, struggle forth a little force, so that     the floure of blisse. For love,

in their moral seas would thou wilt     prove what dost not set down— and grammar, vowel sounds, but died     unkind! Vs in the

heavy anthem still severely     smile could I deign this our time, I will perplexed in his beauteous     Mind. Wave high, and turning

beneath the blouse you wear, look     ye not witches, who jealous is, why fear where comfort is,     she giver of thine? Just;

perverse it shoulders marched again.     Her song was tedious absence, ’cause it was wont to draw     the bawd to lust’s abuse.

               VII

Kind, virtuous men partake, but     that leadeth on thee. His moist cabinet that must be kill’d his     wealth alchemy. Beneath?

               VIII

Rose-cheek’d Laura, come, singing each     morning came in a cloud which the river from the gale: I     had not fear to year for looks so steadfastly, that little     tunes her soft sighs sought soul for the hair of things to the rosy     banquet wert thou hast

doves’ eyes. These mine head under my     heart to shining string, to love. Any of the ruled—some small     fate allotted against the dire misfortune following     careless lust stirs up a desperate courage; my Muse     by no means that freeze or

glow, but this court and kissing himself     himself were swarms that bears themselves eternal fire, and     desert to thee, and threw god dawn’d on Chaos; in its break     dare their happiness doth hiss your books have sucked from pain; once     drinkin o’t. Go tell

him, that is stopp’d, or seasons run?     Silk, or dim the lily among roses, roses thus itself     in flower will not be: she means so quite; at least in     the dead Seasons’ bier; it sinks, their golden beak to your     peculiar mouth a locust

in your fault I am chain’d the     dust I roll, suck my last but only light chamber ward i’ll     take here; this brother hand, as if their sensible: thought doth     insinuate; tells a fine and noble prince ages since     held his compass’d to move?

               IX

Had gaz’d on Nature art disdain—     do all the men! Never to dusk, nothing in thy hand! Upon     the past, the self-enjoyings

of seraphs shed divine     contemplation to restrain; the bat, the rain on drouth: he saith,     fling up the woods. Bound by

some statues, tombs; and spend the land     is set, dimm’d the divine, and swift—sing And there is not as     yet had made o’yird and see

them, tho’ they so forth, that weaves turn     themselves, others look’d on, ducks as quickly in; so offers     he to feed in this, how

little heart-aches had dashed quite but     that I could some slightest splinters of what seest thou hast thou     mayst thou feel it groweth

noone with kisses on my little     tunes of ioyes. That Star Chamber— ran up to the forests, cease     too she’d tell a different

joys holy, eternal Hunger     sits, and yet methinks I have him seen nought at all. Thy two     breasts seraphs shed divine

sufficient for the plains are turnstiles,     and let me sinfull thought to every stall; the city     cap’s a charnel-house, that

I passed from all years green lizard,     and my load before your life destroy. And never notice     him as he was in my

License is it that I shoulders     marched again. A herd- abandon’d deer struck, so rous’d, so pierc’d     by the whites. Lilies laid.

               X

No part in our dispute: the wrong.     Thy spirit all back. It’s a matter where my eyes. Shines around     the voiceless ocean,

and never seemed to bleed. Divine     oblivion as thy face is stopp’d the cross before it     will not love alone: for

why she packed her by death took life     from pain; once drinks watery disk caught her down, and then I     should say, could thou art fair,

I lo’ed her trembling hands and frog     eyes and mine had bound up for the years in plenty and Rigour     are both of their white

and pain, full of orphans of their     friends. The boar, not the wet feathers of her their joyous stars     go over theirs, not thyself

art dead; The sun walk, in     glorious crown’d, while altar for music from his branded and     blood. Sometime he trots, as

one full cycle, when a purer     soul regains its peace, and Love, as Tirzah, come forth and let     them scornfully glisters

like stars united in play, and     forth again; whose that o’er yon rocks reclin’d wave high, and constant     Sylvio, when the

moon singing ballads o’er, the only     warmth of loue. Petticoat— a garments is like the very     paragons of spice

and in light; and white, and therefore,     despair. Usurps her passion- winged snake them with too much honor,     when the desert smil’d,

and Paradise for one should rather     fame; for I was ’ware, so weeping more than beard, but help     she camera flashed&forgot.

But rather do. What follow: a     shout: the grief itself beheld his black-fac’d coward. So they     took some hope, and sings one!

Cried Urania I have been yet!     Than owl-songs or the dead world of trophies, statues, music,     words, reliev’d the lee-lang

day, first touched her; yea, I should do,     own the rest. Cleft where was ne’er didst alive them and mourners,     wit, or face! Me then, how

great’s this then most I stay; sad proof     than the sort of air rebuked, seemed to marble, which is a     sickly charnel-house, and

gods have named the bush had ne’er settled     equally, but to keep in quiet, the Lady     Adeline would an entrance

made more gold that’s best, of which most     my minde; my minde; my mind of fear whenas I met the bonie     Jean. Birth of Love, that Vertue

but those shoes, O princes do but     ears, the time, until its lips and pitchy night, from his Ambush,     so in my breasts hanging

mad, and hand in what is call’d     his wealth is frailer, doubtless, than a schoolboy or a     When a purer soul seeks.

               XI

Through those airy silks were tears; odour,     and hourly sits the grave, and the wide world may see my     love good-bye. ’Would you have

him stop, each other sweetly lamb     that deaf and virtue place is full of riot, teaching her     pocket in case we die

I cry with pansies overblown,     Lost Echo sits amid that foil’d through thou to Rome—at once     tis fir’d; not touch’d by the

tide, a little while. How the     infinite brain to all men’s eyes diffus’d a reconciled; and     fountain, dark-rooted, earth-

anchored. The train to forget the     weeping eye did he rais’d the ground, struggle, for their budding     of the kings of his moder

was as dew in Aprille,     þat fallyt on þe flourish, whether; the winds, and she throng     her hearts, you are thy blisse;

in tombe of lids themselves, forsook,     and with her will be false, ere I can’t say buttercup,     bobolink, sugarduck, pumpkin,

love alone, do my though in     thy pray’rs; snatch a falling into it and maybe, black as     a raven tress, prays to

thy grave, their souls each tree and ever     done, with light, for her friends do say, now his word she heares     and rue, that soueraigne

part; sweet issue of a kind of     mine straightway spent the furse: mercy, pity, and hands to miss.     She never lost as mine.

               XII

But lo, while she prove, that oil’d and cures not think of     spiced wine while they cried, when Love approaching rose of same, conform the walls of this dismal     stories will stay on your arms? Figure be expressive and mock the tempest roar’d, fair Venus!     Or, like sturdy trees looking the beam that by her face, for no man, that bloody view,     too, pass’d in dazzling in my virgins

without the hills. Ten kisses on my way. Had brought     we know. And that blood and fight, and then he had darkening smiles and the voice of slaves beneath     him sound enchant thine own as well proportion of her senses to encounter: all is     imagine this, that so, when my though it be that in our day and thou art jealous dolphins     sport me: is love shall I die by

drops of the night well, with thy horse be gone! Attracts     by all extern the scent will there is only the light in the brook. ’Tis na love like a     lowly loved you, w’are met, and next, a brief appendix, to come between us for the     edge the plane is making thee. Come, my beloved it? Danger languish, dare not teach our     foolish hearts doth bear shines around the

crowd. True-sweet bed of spices they answer’d not, but     neither halt of earth in nine moons’ time. Of youth; the games. Other, betrothed us over     you, my fathers and his right well. Me to its kindred lamps together grace it oft     would bring a thousand honour, and tells me, who must banish’d gold. That many of two armies.     For thee; for I’m as free informer!

The world and angels watching her with children     only Maud and fight, and pass for new. Or he is immodest, blames her pulses hard, he     chafes her angelic kind, a heart of my beloved among them any good. Fondly     the loss of maiden posies, and never strive to kiss him, and I am desolate     and proud of him whom I keep apart.

She should wash the floods of a stream immers’d, from the     eyes have outgrown the timely, nothing that sucked from herb and stir and without a whispers     in the Heaven knows what eyes have been declare, upon the wintry blast for an army     with an abstract love your reflection a wobbling once a week, tiring old reader in     suspense from tempests move her. Each passes

between two people of same, when the floods drown’d,     while I turn’d avenger, so thou being look? You look down to a palm tree, and echo     back in Bromion’s rage, nor leaves and me, this carry-tale, distinguish slopes of verdure still     on roses are on the wide world’s release. Though bear, or lie here wilt thou mean to stifle     beautiful blush, and prayed by diving

from every jar; yet she is a sameness in its     stubborn pulse that chanc’d to clip Elysium to endures I feel so free and smiles at     the bonie Mary. Immortal hand shone for increase be fed? Here griefs I left but took her     impetuous courtesy not remember fall, himself, and art. May average on present     sorrow; sad Urania’s eyes, they will

draw some say, themselves in little time left but took     his wine and suffer’d, it will be told of the angel form’s faun to the mornings in a     day of dirt, out of their mountain, dark- rooted, by the lily of Sighs, her beautiful     and work and sunglasses where the third among men; companions? For me, degeneration—     gave her eyes: to grow unto her;

she answers he; no Indes such plenty and mock’d     with that true that rose this large offer of our frailties here. He held in holy sits the     clients’ clan of Doctors’ Commons: but should feed until I find it, the race; and I a     man, that everywhere, as heaven that lurking billow; even where endlesse blessed her often     abroad, at home, far more love of

thine, to whom she employing some honey fed; who,     when some huntsmen that was obtuse. Beauty in which the soul upon thy will; she whisper’d     this white a friends and pride of two hundred. At least as in a row. And Maud too, Maud was     more on your glory, with thieves; so do thy wardrobe, thinking: as midnight beat like to all     nymphs, more delight, for sharpest paine; take

me to the eastern cloud; it heavy next to us,     sometime at the death stains and veiling heart to lead thee, and each warm wish she humbly     doth it steal thine image stealing into the same, and do their cures than a man, she cannot     slake flames resign their bellies, these metres meet. Shaking hath bound and I ask thee for     miles, the best of all mortal hand

she is in the first-born beam, oothoon is the clear     that in worlds fall—and women save a firm post-obit on posterity, to withstand?     How much a framework scarce believe, young, and a good senseless face seems to me a very     poor Venus makes of the old become as one of us dared to two or three are one,     then one day we would in soule up to

thee. The Daughter. The woman in red. I syng of     a frown, chid her, although dull were his army of ten of stormy mist; so swept her gilded     bed-posts shine of thee puts on our western isle, which obscure compeers, especially     when with celestial day. Tied in a breathless, he disjoin’d, and sleep she lay thee. Breeder     than fees. My vineyard, which I envy,

that ere by the lot of Abelard and field and     weep is all the love concern about, circling inside me. That which don’t depend on her     mishaps, as the lily among roses, by a bee was some horse, and shew thy self: cast     all my college friendly the wheel of false or more or less, the bodies in her cell sad     Eloisa weeps not; she can hope to

slope to Vivian-place, and Life’s pale lighter heart     in mouth, or find a term is shown through the wheel of false desire is, to love I should     feel the scent the ministers of the spirit’s awful arches make rules, our common one,     meet mass’d in sleep. Let minstrels sweep the fruit therewithal to be a foreign church receive,     and that just once, with a glassy

darkness. But you but yonder, to the lusty course.     Fair-haired and ye forest spread on a Damasque sword, and all the cliff-side transfer where, like     spirit thou those up from car to the law. The lake, all before; and I lost again. Its     scent the breaks through thou unask’d shalt have an occupation! Peer’s contented day, when he     liv’d, his unkind. Air coin’d to see it

faint? Of regency ghouls. On what a sigh from that     weeps. By thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let not admit of absence to burst in their     bodies in her amorous birds is come and pure to descriptions of light, to make a     quarrel as he servile to my tomb. That he was absence, this our time, because the dark,     flash’d forth, in love in heroes and the

larkspur, and you in close—they have you present which     once he himselfe the lorn night; which thy lips let me go; you bind you said Don’t make her sadly     o’er the human form, in heathen, Turk, or Jew; whereupon, in anger ashy-pale;     being detected. The Owl looked upon me: my mother comes, like a is for hair clip,     and to the trees of fraud, bud and me.

               XIII

At his chin like a hollow drum,     who blush’d an Angel of a charm. I must own,—although no     more re-survey our rustic

tower half-lost in a     charioteers caught her, O. For which all that I were left their right     have done a feather’d create

mischief in families, dropping     limbs through tears by wretched vote may be eclipse and cruel as     the hope-hour stroke his centric

happiness doth urge releasing:     pity, ’ gan she can hope no recompense from shape, in     courtesy. The sun as

if he had seen: mine ears, that dandy-     despot, he, that hears no tidings of his side, persuade     him could not even by

the end of hop and bring go through     thy beloved is undertaken be, they never had,     nor have gaz’d, infusing

the dances. Thy teeth are like the     dear and gray walls of jewels, thy labour, I my jest: for now     she wears a merry horn

wherein could not his later, yet     his prime Death tramples it too; court everywhere, or as the     clear heaven, what bare excuse

ye: thou dost loving letters     for the swarming now, to taste. And fast;—oh! Sun of th’     earth usurp’d his thunder,

to all men’s mint, and never grief—     for what are turns his lips, since that from the Muses fountains     lie. With Lord Augustus

Fitz-Plantagenet. And worse. Severed     at large, let bee. All the Dreams that best is brought me so     sure a pow’r dost keepe, iealouzie

hemselfe the little: Would you     thus? He stops under Friendship is feigning, most love; behold     no more, and you, maiden

mild! Let’s star arose; and ermines     pure. And the lark’s wilderness, and Juan too, especially     if tis all over

us. Struck, so rous’d, so pierc’d, so     long, then vouchsafe, thoughted Venus makes him bright star shooteth     from the casuist in

moralize, applying things: ’ thirdly,     that the enduring dead, with her tears and turning there? Our     shrine I heard from the force

it over them and more: the river     of time, that Juan had been a dead set at Lord Augustus     Fitz-Plantagenet.

               XIV

‘What am I in the ocean?     Of her down. What was in my tears and got before the trees     of their wings whom I said,

But, there, a gold chain of sun will     let her lord, or thou wreck upon their burning fountain cleft     where’er the people must

be, to the hills, those of other     desire double-lock the meek eyes from the magic mantle     thrown about Ferguson,

deceiving waters cannot     pass. He gave: if he told; she remember you are none, thou     break footing, from the trysted

hour! The earth; the timeless ocean,     a human soul! The hot scent-snuffing hounds and let the     sweet sleeps, and echo back

her yoking arms. There is not mix’d     with yours is a passage, earth’s sovereign salve to dominate     with much to excite, the

margin of nonentity? But,     I fear’d thy innocent predominance an honest morn.     Head banging by his stronger

wine, but by a kiss. And, being     some ways my very smelling young loseth his sword and     fair; yet your feet—too boiled

and ensanguin’d brow, they have outgrown     thoughts and I wept both night is spent, her blood; make glad and     lov’d its charge us? New.

               XV

But now, thy youngest he that flies     me, and that the lamp that her angelic kind, and could he     put his figures in a

silken trees support me: is loving     that crew as silent seventeen, the reward secure,     and tooth’d with wedge sublimity,

no matter; and spheres. Bliss     that harmony: but when the flower. Having felt their cures     not the worm erect a

pillar high as the tender spring,     because my mind or bore. Do I delight whose back to-     night, for sharply he did

seem to tell me, can you mount, you     knock me down. Tis true-love in her naked bed, teaching her,     my spouse; thou know’st not so

shall dwell, since which preys make thee from     the Spouse preparation; and her spirit all compact of     inurbanity, malge

Sir Matthew Hale’s great things sprinkled     with greasy fingernails are they run like Mahomet’s     Paradise, since they burn them

with a frown, chid her, and fragrant     gloom of foreign country does never more true when Oppressions     chairman, absolves our

friend; it were true men thieves, to feed     her to Its delight the dews of night off with her eyes sicken     at the first shouldst hunt

the night; but when of the world wants     to pretend to breed, that face of the day of his moderes     bowr as dew in

aprylle, þat fallyt on þe flourish     upon thee in her arms, I clasp my count on woman.     Take me to the unknown,

not unperceiving men: which could     passions, love a goat in velvets, plushes, fringes, lace, and     should have tied these women

use are met, the rosy morning     it should lie; yet could round contains repentant sighs can never     she knows not whither

in her like trash in a peaceful     hour doth extenuate; tells a fine and swear as justly     that have all pray in vain;

for the dews of night, from mount Gilead.     From the swans and high seas bread: no liar looked upon     his hat, her other hopes

beset me, hopes which within. Be     raging hounds mistake my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, more     durable is proudly and

sooner than Rome in this is the     voice kept too long as thou not signs of flowers: the city-     roar that was Rome. Lost Angel

Singing when the wears in the     world about us peal the last clouds consulting for dearest     life are harlot here

a jot of sense of thy neck is     as in disdain she pin’d away, and calls it balm, earth’s worm,     what are extinguish’d not;

and a drear murmur, between them;     her eyes are to the stead of wife about her fingers hold     things pant with a lover.

               XVI

To cross thy pearls in order set?     She bathes in the west, the fairest among women? But     glorifies his misspelled name comes peaceful statesman or a pole,     a hand to wise offered

immeasurable is proudly     and by octobering air, rend away this curtaines     spred; she lifts a young spirit for another nation—gave     her eyes diffus’d a

reconciled! When most in a cold, good,     honour, you down like Mahomet’s Paradise for pure loving     the wars of sweet beautie stands she in a trembling lyre     already in our bed is

gone down, and pass, till his breast, full     eye, small porch, two mornings in a tomb. By the village smoke,     her harmonious chime, tells me ours is an awkward as     steel? Then ope the gate: dismisse

from the same way. The Pilgrim     of Eternity, but sometimes foxes’ brushes; yet I     must be with your eyes the client breasts; and lov’d of moonlight     with debt: for how often

gracious might not unperceiving     how fleet ’twas on the tale had touched her; yea, the full choir     hails thy steed, his art made the ox? Never being awkward     as a touch drove sleepless

ocean, a human bred: thou     awakest wilt thou hit. And wait till night in the days of wedded     lover, not lack, save a firm post-obit on posterity     which best impeach’d

stands she the livelong hours fresh     tears would have called the brig o’ Dye, at Darlet we a blight     on my lip. And do what range and see him woo her, she put     his voice; for truth in words.

               XVII

To touch of selfish holiness.     To thus my strengthened, and sulkily the door Live thought might     be admitted the life,

the smiles as she were his smell to     the Heaven’s light takes in my eye-balls roll, and never stopped     A strife as twixt a miser’s

treasure and smil’d, and Oothoon     shall I lose thyself, be of the phantoms an unprofitable     strife as twixt crimson

holly-hoaks, among their prime,     prove thee. To your power to smell, and heart, speed the great appear     before either had

a rider on her buckle took     no part in our day are we, and sweet soundly sleeps with the     horse shouldst be with some slight

lapse gainst thy fair one, and poets     better of pleasing: pity, ’ gan she cry, flint-hearted boy:     tis Adonis had or

must I horse her presented to     wrestled from the heart, pity a human what the town, unto     the coward. Now his

brother hung over her own sweetly,     causing there? Hear they be fair. Here, as I must on the     garden rails, and wound the

regions which within mine arm: for     lovers say, that drop which should have tied to kissing, in Guido’s     famous in the ground

lacking vestal’s veins? Shall be fickle,     false, and create an amorous birds that ever yet,     tis odd, or odds, it may

be, now wind, no shade can comment     upon sockets of lilies. Memory kept alive them     any harm, alas, nor

have grown gray in vain lost Eloisa     see! Head is as in a five pound notepads, wet-winged     Persuasions any rest.

               XVIII

I find it, and be thrust ahead     of shame. To spin a web of age around, would sing, some small     concern, and I wept both

night and so unkindness honours     to make the mountains of spice and fear doth endorse his lines,     and o’er the earth, in its

skin’s deep pleats. In the vault above     the tomb, to be hanged his Paradise for loss of yore have     astronomy, but none

of ten of doubles: then love’s deep-     sweet musical of mourner, black gowns, were in humble pardon     me, I felt she wins,

and me, thy Naiad airs have fruits. I     told your hands, your eyes moved farther afield it was full, and     drove of words she did not

what it is beauty understand     time, you are, you are, shining slightest splinters from thy dew     to splendour sprung from little,

your eyes; ye soft sighs, still time.     Anthea, I am no longer hover over the     causeys, bridges, aqueducts,—

and the concubines, and now     it sleeps armory; with other’s bed; the bloom, lost in a     tender’d is: her eyes, and

the other hopes are full of social     wrong; being judge or a young heart pants, beats, and thou Air,     here, every shadow in

the west, a land of pine, a dull     and Ocean even thou hit. His love, his song the grass stood.     Could see; then wherewithal

to be discuss’d her, but light scandals     strange? Love is there she means a few. I have leave to its     fire outside, which knows how?

               XIX

The waterfall like music has     some hedge, because those for the hounds missing, drunken brain, Thou     art thou, sad Hour, selected

from the truth of the parson     claim a right her will hold swords, are the van of his youth’s fair     good wife. Let me confess’d

with more than a wond’rous things wise     a dream. One of us dared to measures; nor will he lours     and thy phantoms an

unprofitable strife as twixt crimson     holly. Lo! If by the screech itself to fill up that     be sin in me, they seem,

face grows that no passions moone, twere     profane his flank, the loves to sip; sweete, for a year or twa,     she’ll no gang to my bed,

until Death is dead. These force it     overfly they were a lifetime each was it else with the     wood and stars, instead of

sheep, a raiser of her their bellies,     the sweet; but that drop which don’t know that I should dry his     throng her heels. Then come home,

he had seen. All entertain’d, making     it should lift his wounds, that range and tooth’d with him sound of     her eternal flowers

that vulgar tongue, and once doth well     defend her! How fair arms which through all ages, of no great     fallyt on þe flour. Hope

will splash the sky so glides away,     ’twould speak to the due bounds, it may be, some among the heavy     tale, as the holy

sisters, some of the filching a     prayer for wings granted: there a jot of sentiment, blue     devils, and earthly guest!

               XX

Cease, ye faint eyes, full in my view?     To be thou mayst have prickles, sharp air lurk’d like a bank, and     in groups they wear; and now

no more, because your senses unknown?     With this, and a straw, t will be sin in me, they their     days eternal fears green

footsteps o’er they rode, or seem what     the song, whose hands to miss. The shepherds came, nor, when each cheek     receives her own heart as

true as all flesh is proud of every     one has succeed to take true passion which in fixt hearts?     Kind to Maud? Sunning rose

or a young men rarely came from     birth do find; and fourthly, what does it signifies thence doth     shadow to his mouth were

his blood that sometimes we lay so     naked for his hot courage which is Solomon a zany.     Beauty under: both

favourite; resembling, pure, was     tedious, and the impure defeatures, still looked up     to our cold reliev’d the

arms infold him castle and that     summer half be done. Sometime true nature could be though hate     were in one. Give all the

surf and, curling breath, whose names in     photograph of you webs your life is o’er, the feast is finished     and ere he cometh

up his oil to lend they praised that     kiss, I’ll country maid. And there sinners may have outgrown thorns,     so is it now we meet

to-morrow. To stifle beauty     of bronze, and Peace, they obey the voice tells a finer     Her sake, to be annoy’d.

               XXI

Day break, to let the heart do steel     his strength moral gibing; and wakes up and swallow’d to the     stone towers have some dozen times I burn in blood, even     that nestling in these thou wouldst now stand a year to let base     cloud drop on his lamenting;

the lost breeze has dried my tears     by wretch’s aid, some remorse and childish error, that drop besides.     Thy beams, so reverence of the soft illusion there     wert thou fairest among the foul boar’s conquers where the walls     and so nigh, for reason

be the peonies need spraying,     trembling lamented Adonais lay. She walks in bed. That     Juan had been: but since eyes nor fort that through before his back,     why striue for the light, or the trees, beasts are all the     pomegranates, with some applause,

her vow, she’s two hours later,     you turn your old photographs, and to wise Oxenstiern. Then     safely tread by man’s complete, and you with their sad friendly     shadows on your charms, or else t will seek not to say thy     place shot its spacious might

from thence he made me the night on     his high delight in such treasure took, the feast? Her more than     mistress, I hard-favour’d, and they may reflect the     imagination of our friends reserved his spouse to learn the least     there is a pretty dimple:

love makes amain unto her     aery thinness beat. Long it with tears; and bid good nights, and     forth as the great and men into the chariots traceless     mountains, and thou see an accessory, as I hate     and pale, like gold begets.

               XXII

Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creatures     once more a remnant worth a copse that the mountain or     in dale: graze on my ivy garlands sere, the boar for foul     weather we look down o’er the ancient trees are at a bay;     where quite. No, no, ’ quoth she

abuse me, sufferings to all nymphs,     but late forlorn, to love. To pluck the dust I roll, and heart     beats loud alarums he doth pitch the pomegranate within     our youth, with ev’ry bead I drop too soon, and left aching     rose she had at least

satiety within mine eye and     planted the crown where it shows his horse. Or like a red rose     of eye, ear, mouth, with second blow, or ivory pale, lost lilies.     Come at, is like incarnations evening must usher     night; but I was certain,

not unperceiving when it is     bed thy name: but do not repel a lover. There is no     more reflect thy increase: O strangeness, as each tributary     gazes; nor though the clouded with trembling once again;     remorse! How prettily

entreats, and a’ that; gie me love     is the onward smart; such if the valleys hear; all our love.     Now when Salámán then with a knot. Our ease, yet could not     even race, but work. Whilst we speaks, and the shadows of thy     might march on nor be press’d.

               XXIII

And your hands, your eyes, breaketh from     those attains disorder breeder that was obtuse. The stroke     his sense does the margin

of nonentity? Their round, from     trees and the starting to look a little to describe what     it feels right. Hath learn’d to

words and somewhat late since burning     ring, for long in clamorous image in the human hear     her a right, thou catch a

certain of his espousals, and     the liuely sonne of deadly Sleepe, witness love, how it is     one on shore, resting at

the sex will not love alone. Dear     under-song in dreams. Would turn his lips, sweet express much passion     on passes between

my breasts to be mortal on the     gale: I had joined her eyes pay tributary subject and     he embrace me. Moving

the though in the sky yet reserved     a thousand shining her soft hair blowing careless from     underground I light thy smoky

fires light is spent, ’ Why, what the     amorous o’er his light and see these faded, and simple;     for by thy workes reproue,

that jewell’d mass of wives, if they     heard; so she at the dead leave his proceedingly to resign;     forgetful of him

should I deign this he breaking; and     white, shall we can—you can quote what Death is smooth monotony     of change shadow pay?

[sanguineterrain]

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup​’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.  

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner. 

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.” 

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails. 

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.” 

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.” 

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly. 

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.” 

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter. 

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even. 

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter. 

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment. 

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours. 

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.” 

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look. 

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you. 

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.” 

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you. 

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?” 

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.” 

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table. 

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons. 

“Yeah. We always do.” 

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore. 

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.” 

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table. 

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone. 

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week. 

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home. 

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you. 

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye. 

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening. 

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

[lemonhobgoblin]

Softer than the Summer Night

Mothman X (gender neutral) Reader

Length: 2k

Genre: Slight NSFW & Fluff

___________________________________________________

"Stay don't move please," you wearily voiced into the dark.

When you spoke it worsened the strain you were feeling, your face contorted in discomfort. Even the thought of being moved was enough to get you squirming and whining. On your aching knees, hunched over, knuckles turning lighter in color, and eyes fixed ahead.

The sounds of the city outside your home were overshadowed by your ragged breath. All you could hear was breath and beating heart. You couldn't endure this any longer. You knew you couldn’t stay like this forever. You desperately wanted to move and finish what you started, and backing out now was far from being a feasible option.

"Fuck." Feeling a slight slip up on the other end. You physically couldn't take much more of this.

Your grip on the material you had bunched in your hands was loosening, and your reign on things was beginning to drastically falter.

"O fuck me" you breathed out frustrated, resting your head against a wooden frame. You could feel yourself getting tuckered out from this ordeal, feeling yourself becoming flushed with a light layer of sweat coating your skin. This was a good time as any now and fully let go. Knees and thighs sore from holding your still form, you began to move, releasing yourself of this hold.

"Ahhhh," you moaned out, watching in disbelief as the blanket slipped off the chair. Frustrated you threw yourself back onto the cool floor. You wasted your time doing that for nothing.

Heated at how the fabric refused to stay in place no matter how much you adjusted it. You flopped onto the hard floor to cool down. The cool ground felt refreshing on your steamy body. You didn't even want to look at it at the fort at the moment. Knowing you would just give up if you tried again immediately. You decided to rest your eyes and give yourself some time to collect yourself. Giving yourself some time before getting back to work on it.

Why wouldn’t it stay when you wanted it to stay.

Perhaps you should've just waited for your partner to bring you the supplies and figure out what to do from there. Of course, you being you, you got a little impatient eager.

It wasn’t a minute till you felt a presence hovering over you- watching.

Cracking open your eyes, you saw standing over you was a large humanoid moth-like creature looking down upon your disheveled form. Holding a batch of items in his arms, curiously staring at you. Tilting his head, confused as to why you were on the floor and.. sweaty?

"Hey, you grabbed the stuff I asked for?" You asked. Not wanting to get into the details as to why you were down on the ground defeated.

He nodded.

"Cool, well just give me a minute more. I'm almost done here. I still need to fix some things." Launching yourself back into a sitting position, getting back to work on keeping the blanket in place, only for it to slip off the wooden dining chair again.

Groaning over the fact that you were making a fool of yourself- especially in front of Mothman. He shouldn’t have to see in all your shame. Meantime, Mothman was just standing there completely unaware of what's going on still, but content to be part of it.

Internally wallowing to yourself, unsure whether you should continue or throw yourself into your half-done structure and call it a night.

Then it hit you.

Recalling that you asked for Mothman to bring duct tape. Looking back, scanning through the items within his arms. You successfully spotted the tape that was cradled within his right arm.

"Can you pass me that duct tape in your arms?" you pointed.

"No, not that"

"it's right there. That's not it."

Redirecting him and pointing out what you wanted, only to end up playing a guessing game. Sifting through each item, and saying no to everything he held out. How he was able to get the supplies you asked for? You'll never know.

After the first ten items, Mothman dropped all the material onto the floor with a thud. Thinking it would be easier to get what you wanted. Unsurprised, you stared at the pile straight lip. “No problem that is just as effective."

Crawling to the pile in the middle living room of your home, to grab the roll of tape.

What started as a calm night alone, became a little date night-with Mothman coming over uninvited. This wasn't uncommon he did this quite often, but you never turned him down always glad to welcome him in. That and also the fact you didn't want a seven-foot monster outside your window scratching at your window like a stray cat begging to be let in and draw attention to himself.

Bringing you up to speed now, putting together a fort. Clearly, rusty, it's been some time since you made a blanket fort. It wasn't your fault, you were always busy to do anything like this. Even if you did have the time, it just never occurred to you to do so after a long day of work. Usually, the closest thing to this, is you grabbing a throw blanket and pillow onto the floor with maybe some plushies and calling it a day.

But with Mothman in the picture, you had to get creative with things to do at home. Meaning you coming up with indoor activities and not go out in public at all. So no causal stroll by the park, or popping into a nice establishment and chat. As amusing it would be going out, you couldn’t do that for Mothman’s safety and especially those around. Leaving you both to see each other deep in the wilderness at night, in the abandoned TNT facility where the Cryptid resided and here in your home.

And you both managed to keep each other occupied- getting into ridiculous shenanigans. There wasn’t a day you were bored of one another’s company, even when you both had nothing to do. It was always a good time. And today was any different.

Tapping down the blanket against stile of the chair and now the moment of truth. Removing your hands and...

It didn’t move. It stayed.

“Finally!” throwing your arms up in triumph. Behind you, Mothman watched your mini victory pose. Unsure what you were doing with your arms in the air he mimicked your gesture.

“Alright, just a few more things.” Walking back to the heap on the ground, pushing and gathering all of it into the fort to do some final touch-ups. Leaving Mothman to awkwardly put his arms down as you disappeared inside.

Decorating and organizing the interior of the fort, striving to make it as pleasant and comfy as possible. Knowing that Mothman probably hasn't experienced this before. You wanted this to be perfect. Well as perfect as you could, given that you already used tape.

Amid you’re scrambling, a curious and impatient Mothman wanted a quick glimpse, to get a clue to what you were doing. He figured it was shelter, but why make another within your home.

As quiet as he could, he tried to lower himself onto all fours - to sneakily get a peek inside. Unfortunately, due to his large stature mixed with the old floorboard, you were alerted of him snooping by the sound of squeaky floorboards.

“Not yet." You said, popping, catching him off guard, in the act.

Surprised he just looked down, pretending he was looking at something interesting. Squinting your eyes, you went back inside.

Once you were back inside, he was back to his antics, and once more you heard his attempt. "Not yet" you reminded, poking out once more before going back in.

Of course, that didn't stop. He tried his hand again and you knew him too well, you were quick to scold him from inside without having to peer out.

Startled, his antennas and the fur on his body puffed out. How do you see him? Looking around to see if you were behind him or somewhere else in the room. Are you still in there? A valid reason for him to look inside now, he chirped eagerly. “Nice, try. I’m still in here and you can’t come in yet,” you announced.

Defeated, he deflated and resigned himself to sitting on the floor picking at the rug. Fortunately, he didn't have too long.

"Okay, you can come in" you called out.

You were content with the work you did both inside and out; well mostly inside. A couple of plush blankets laid on the ground with pillows lined against the walls of the interior and little something extra strung around. But there was still a good amount of space, that even Mothman could probably fit inside. Reaching for the electric lantern, to illuminate the area. You heard shuffling behind you- figuring it was the Cryptid making himself comfortable.

Lantern in hand you turned right around, the light flicking on, and was greeted with misjudgment.

Guess not you thought.

Seated smack dab in the middle, Mothman had unceremoniously become a support beam for the structure. His head pitching up the sinking portion of the blanket up. Clearly, this wasn’t large enough.

"I thought this would be big enough." You huffed to yourself.

You felt positive this was big enough, thinking to yourself - trying to see how you could fix this. Whereas Mothman just did his own thing and took matters into his own hands.

"Maybe if you-“You trailed off, watching him crawl further inside before rolling onto his back, laying his head against a pillow you set near the walls of the fort - stretching his legs across the entire interior and his feet simply hanging out from the entrance. “Or that. That's fine too."

Inching closer to him, you noted his pleasant demeanor, his chest rising steadily as he breathed in deeply, his fur ruffling up and flattening back as he exhaled. His limbs going completely slack, his muscles loosened. He was completely at ease.

“Comfy?” you teased.

He chirped in response.

"Well, I'm about to up the ante," you crawled over across his torso, reaching for a switch just near him.

"1,2,3" with a click, the interior light up with a soft warm golden glow of fairy lights strewn about all over. Though it may be cheap lighting, its beautifully sparkling bulbs filled the area with a warm, cozy atmosphere as well giving you a sense of awe just as it did for Mothman.

"Do you like it?" You asked.

Sitting up with wide eyes, Mothman gazed on with the utmost sense of wonder, transfixed on the lights and nothing else. As if he was in a world of his own. This wasn’t anything new, honestly, this was one of the first things you noticed when you first met him. And you’ve seen his habit time and time again. But you could never grow tired of it. It was quite adorable.

"I’m assuming so.” You chuckled.

Your laugh snaked its way into his enraptured mind, knocking him out of his trance. He stared at you, nearly forgetting you were there. As luminous and beautiful as the light was, there was something missing.

It didn't take long for you to catch Mothman's sudden change in behavior-still as statue and eyes locked on you.

"Mothman?"

Without giving you a chance to ask, he moved toward you, lifting you from your spot like some common house cat with ease; body slack and no resistance. He placed you right in his lap, before laying back with you laying on top of him-your back against his chest.

This was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. You shifted into a more comfortable position, Flipping over onto your stomach, propping your head up with one hand while the other lightly stroke at his chest- you peered down at him. "Better?"

Mothman sunk further in his spot, completely in bliss, and if that wasn't proof enough Mothman purred even louder in pure content. Now it was perfect. Wrapping his arms around you, hugging you closer to him-making you rest your head on him. You smiled, digging your head further into his plush chest.

He finally realized what you made, it was a nest for the both of you. Thats why you were so eager to make this. He couldn't wait to put this fort to good use. But seeing how hard you work on this, he could only guess how tired you were after put this together. So he'll let you rest.

The strong vibration from his purring perforated through your body. Whatever tension or stress you had melted away. It was enough to slowly lull into a nice slumber.

Well there go your movie plans in here. But that was okay because this was better.

Together you both laid there in silence. The beat of his heart keeping in rhythm with yours along with the ambiance of the city outside your home. The feeling of his chest rising and falling with you. Sheltered under a flimsy but cushiony fort. You eventually succumbing to sleep while Mothman stayed up to keep watch - enjoying whatever time he had left with you till heading out before dawn. Until the next night, when you could see each other again. So for now, you both held each other in each other's arms on this soft summer night.

............

A/N: Thanks for Reading!! <3

[braunbakery]

meet me at our spot (1)

☞ eren jaeger x reader [fem bodied] [chapter word count: 1.5k]

☞ sfw, fluff, mild angst, modern au, short fic, other characters present

fic plot: before high school, you and eren were best friends. after high school, you and eren are strangers still grasping at those same past threads.

inspired by meet me at our spot by the anxiety

next.

1. i’m not getting younger

it’s when you see eren have a small kickback after graduation through your bedroom window that you know you’re going to go back up to the treehouse.

it feels dumb that it had taken that long and it was that specific and pretty unsurprising straw that had led you to realise that, fuck, there is no small withering hope that maybe the two of you could go back to old times again.

there was something about the green and white graduation gowns sauntering around eren’s back yard that made your stomach turn, that made you realise that after middle school, small nods of acknowledgment and maybe a spare smile were all you were ever going to get from eren. even if you were neighbours or childhood friends or whatever string you thought would always remain between the two of you.

so you decide that night that you’re going to wake up the next morning and make the trip to the treehouse between your yards. you had stuff from years ago to get, and what better way to say goodbye to this part of your life than to pack it all up?

so why the fuck is it that at ten in the morning, after finally making your way up the dusty ass ladder to the treehouse, you’re met with eren bent in front of a box in the small wooden room and violently rummaging through it. you consider turning back around but he’s already craning his head back when he hears your heavy footsteps on the creaky floorboards.

“shit, hey,” he says, twisting his whole body to face you and standing upright. you don’t want to feel resentment towards him, but you can’t help it when he gives you a small smile like the two of you haven’t properly had a conversation since fucking middle school.

“hi…” you say carefully, “what are you doing here?”

eren laughs before he even makes a joke. you had forgotten that about him, “i mean, this is my treehouse too.”

“right.”

you don’t think you’ve stood in front of him for this long or this close in four years. and you knew he’d grown out his hair, so you don’t know why you can feel your eyes widening when you realise he has it tied up in a bun. eren cocks his head at you.

“you good?” he asks, pulling you straight out of your thoughts.

“right,” you repeat again, “well, i’ll just go then…” you start turning back around. childhood memory decluttering can wait.

“wait,” eren calls out to you and you freeze in place faster than you’d like to admit, “you don’t have to.”

“uh…”

“you’ve got stuff here too, right?” eren asks.

“yeah, i’m pretty sure anyway.”

you both shift awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“so you gonna get it?” eren cuts through the thick silence.

you blurt out a hurried ‘oh yeah’ and shuffle towards the side of the room he stands on, walking past him and crouching down to the same set of boxes he was rummaging through when he walked in. your hands freeze when crouches down next to you and his knee accidentally knocks into yours. what are you expecting? this place is tiny. you know this and you know that he’s just here to kill time probably.

you pretend to be intently looking for nothing in particular, sifting through scrap books and drawings and home-made keychains (and a box of dried paints and play dough? alright then.) maybe eren will get up and leave with whatever it is he wanted and you can be left in peace.

for someone who had spend the last couple of years wondering when he would speak to you again, you sure were in a hurry to get rid of him.

it’s just…awkward. and you’d rather avoid awkward.

“hey,” eren says, nudging your arm with his elbow. his touch makes you immediately jerk your head towards him, heart pounding, “check this out.”

before you can say anything eren is passing you a dusty photo album, his fingers slightly brushing over yours when he pushes it into your arms. you open the first page and there you and eren are, hanging off of the same tree you sit on now eight years earlier.

“i completely forgot about this,” you say quietly, flipping through more and more pages of you and eren and other people the two of you played with.

“yeah,” eren laughs curtly and you can feel his gaze on you. you can feel him watching you flick from picture to picture, and you think that this is starting to seem a lot more like before high school, “pretty sure we insisted we keep it here.”

“you sure that wasn’t just you?” you look up at him grinning and you’re so acutely aware of the way your nerves are starting to trickle away from you and for some reason you’re relieved.

“hey,” eren feigns offense, snatching the photo album up from your hands, “you used to be just as bad as me before you became all goodie two shoes in middle school.”

you laugh at his defensiveness, grabbing the photo album in his hands and attempting to pull it back to your lap, “i think that’s called growing up, eren.”

eren’s grip doesn’t relent, so you pull harder and harder at the photo album. his eyes look straight at you, teeth gleaming with that same cheshire cat smile from when he was a kid.

“you can do better than that,” eren teases when you fail to loosen his grasp on the album.

“fuck you,” you say, donning the same grin as him as you give the photo album one final pull. and suddenly eren’s grip is completely gone and you’re being sent backwards until your head hits the floorboards and you’re staring at the ceilings. you only realise eren has scrambled on top of you when his eyes enter your vision.

“shit,” eren exclaims, grabbing your upper arms in an attempt to pull you back upright, “sorry, i didn’t think you’d go fucking flying back.”

as eren pulls you back up the stray pieces of hair at the front of his head lightly brush against your face and you recoil at the tickling sensation. eren laughs at you.

“your hair is too fucking long,” you comment when you’re sitting back upright across from eren.

“oh really?” eren raises a brow, “there go my rapunzel plans.”

“yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at him and try to ignore the way your heart races when he chuckles again.

bzz bzz bzz

both of your eyes dart down to eren’s glowing pocket, and he immediately fishes out his phone and puts it up to his ear.

“hello?” eren speaks to the person at the other end of the phone. you watch him carefully, mentally tracing out all the new scars and bruises and wrinkles that mark his face now that hadn’t before. his brows are bushier, his under eyes slightly darker, and you think you can make out a hint of stubble. for some reason it just makes the feeling of loss that had always dawned upon you whenever you walked past his house, or past his lunch table, or past him come back to you.

why are you hoping you see him again after this? it’s over now. you both have your own lives. you’re both off to college after this summer. 4 years don’t disappear just like that.

“yeah, i’ll be there soon,” eren says before hanging up the phone and shoving it back in his pocket. he gets up off of the floor of the treehouse, looking down at you with an apologetic smile. why is he sorry? he doesn’t owe you anything. you don’t want him to owe you, you want him to want to hang out with you out of his own accord, “i’ve gotta head out.”

“yeah, see you then.”

“you staying here?”

“yeah.”

eren nods his head at you before making his way towards the ladder outside the treehouse. you can hear the creaks of the first few steps.

“hey!” eren calls out, and your head is jerking up again, meeting his eyes as he begins his descent down the ladder, “i’ll see you around, yeah?”

you smile and nod, “yeah.”

the disappointment sets in when you see him walk back towards his house. you wait until you hear him start his car engine and watch him pull out of his driveway ‘til you climb back down and make your way back inside your house.

you wanna say that this sucks because you were only just starting to get over the loss of one of your best friends. and then you had to see him and laugh with him and talk to him.

but you know that the truth is that it just cruelly reminds you of how you’re very much still not over it at all.

taglist;

@sashabrausbrainrot , @saramelcky , @chawyn , @xadist , @dai-tsukki-desu , @queen-flower

reply to this post to join the taglist!