#part two of last post's poem.

[yakny]

Words and thoughts, unable to be vocalized anymore, just vacantly staring at a smoked artificial sun. I wanted to feel brand-new; clean and pure. But by the next logy morn, I awoke mid daymare

[crossbackpoke-check]

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two

[coconut530]

Bump in the Night & Sleeptober Day 21: Black Dog & Room Below

[fayes-fics]

The Secrets We Keep: Pt I

Part II >>

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you…

Warnings: none yet… fluff and angst. Childhood friends, yearning, arranged marriage, kissing. Pt II will contain a warning/rating change.

Word Count: 5.1k (this part)

Authors Note: Part 1 of 2. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. I won't post your ask yet, as it contains spoilers for the second half. Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. I’m in the process of writing Pt II, so there will be a gap between instalments. Enjoy! 🫶

-i-

For as long as you can remember, you have loved one man secretly. To the point that you cannot imagine your life without a deep, burning affection simmering in your very core, as fundamental to your existence as drawing air into your lungs.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Your families have been neighbours in Mayfair and Kent for many generations—two aristocratic dynasties that, despite enduring friendships, have never seen intermarriage. There have been attempted matches down the years, according to family lore, but nothing came to fruition. 

So when you were brought to Aubrey Hall as a mere babe in arms, the eldest daughter, there were many good-natured jokes that Anthony’s future wife had been born. But the Viscount, wonderful as he is, was not the man who stole your heart just a few short years later. A bright sunny day in June that you suspect Benedict may not even be able to recall, but you can with perfect clarity, even now, some fifteen years later. 

He picked you as the first person to join his team for a round of garden games. Paying you heed and ensuring you were included, patiently showing you the ropes and applauding your achievements, ignoring the ridicule from the other twelve-year-old boys for letting a girl - and a little five-year-old at that - join in their games. 

Ever since that day, all you have ever seen is his enormous heart and steadfast empathy: always the one to reach out to those excluded, to be supportive, and to love harder and more expansively than his siblings. Thus, unsurprisingly, he became the focus of your singular devotion—a childish adoration transmuting into something more profound and complicated as you matured.

On your fourteenth birthday, your mother gifted you a thick notebook. And it became your refuge, the private canvas on which you outlet your innermost secrets and thoughts. The beautiful but now slightly battered, silk-covered tome is still your most treasured possession even now, more than six years later, so close to filled now, with only a couple of blank pages left. Never long from your hands, but when it must be, carefully stashed under the floorboards of your bedroom. Its pages the reflection of a naive, growing heart. There is one person who features frequently on its crammed, jumbled pages. Sketches of his handsome face, mostly from memory, interspersed with ardent notes and poems that, while they may not mention his name, are written for him. Adoration writ large in every pen and pencil stroke.

Little were you to know that the secrets you keep within its hallowed pages would one day alter the course of your life…

-ii-

It's the evening of the Bridgerton Ball, and usually, you would be brimming with anticipation for such an occasion, a chance to see the man who holds your most ardent admiration. Instead, you find yourself glum, mechanically stepping into the dress your ladies' maid Rachel assists you with, staring blankly into the vanity mirror as she adorns your hair with jewels. Still reeling from your father's shocking announcement the previous day.

The inheritance of a European title had seen him spend eighteen months abroad. In his absence last spring, you were able to persuade your more indulgent mother to delay your societal debut—a yearning to be free in the ways you know no woman really can be for long. A compounding factor was spending the summer in the Highlands with her sister, your Aunt Eliza, a spirited, independent woman who taught you many things and encouraged your artistic whims. And when you were back in London, your mother’s somewhat inattentive running of the house meant you were often able to slip away in the evenings, spending your time deepening your passion for art. Frequenting galleries and conversing with artists led to you being drawn into the bohemian, artsy underbelly of Bloomsbury, a beguiling, exotic contrast to Mayfair. Another secret you keep.

Upon his return to England, your father was not best pleased to learn that not only had you been allowed to skip the previous Season, but Eliza had also taught you to fish, fence and hunt—most unladylike pursuits in his opinion. He, therefore, made it his mission to ensure not only would you debut this year but also a swift match should be made, lest you “get other fanciful, dangerous ideas”.

Perhaps that is why, yesterday, nary two weeks into your first season, he abruptly announced over afternoon tea that he had secured a match for you and the man in question would be dining with you all that evening. A deal no doubt brokered in a private gentleman’s club as if you were merely chattel to be traded.

Revulsion filled your every fibre as you were introduced to Lord Farringdon a few hours later. A wiry man twenty years your senior with a hawk-like countenance and a disdainful disposition. Apparently, a brilliant intellectual mind but accompanied by a mercurial, malevolent reputation. You had read in Whistledown rumours about his mistreatment of his household staff and his previous wife. A forlorn figure who became a recluse long before she died of consumption tragically young. The idea of being betrothed to this cold, abusive man turned your stomach—a seemingly outsized punishment for your rebellion. Once the man left, you had begged and pleaded with your father to reconsider the arrangement, but sadly, your appeal fell on deaf ears. 

And so here you are. Going to a ball at which your father plans to announce your engagement. The stately beauty of Bridgerton House is not as heartening of a sight as it typically is. Tonight, it feels more akin to a gallows.

As soon as you arrive, you are scanning the crowds for the only friend you know will understand just how ghastly your predicament is—Eloise Bridgerton. A kindred spirit whose interest in marriage is as scant as your own. Bonding over your similar yearnings for freedom, you have been good friends since you were little, many a day spent together as children running through the Kentish fields, escaping expectation and flouting convention.

Acutely aware of time running out until your father speaks up, you fiddle distractedly with your fan, impatiently awaiting her entrance.

“For heaven's sake, y/n, please cease your fidgeting!” your mother chastises under her breath, snatching away the item. “I do not see why you are so agitated. Tonight is to be a wonderful occasion for you!”

A myriad of caustic comments are on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. The last thing you want is to draw attention, and you certainly don't want to be gossip fodder; these ballrooms are a veritable hotbed of eavesdropping if Whistledown is anything to go by. 

When the collective Bridgerton family finally enter their ballroom as hosts, however, your eyes can't help but drift to Benedict instead. A reflex from years of longing, even though it is his sister,  arm looped into his, whose counsel you seek tonight. You excuse yourself to fetch a lemonade as soon as you spy a window of opportunity—Eloise standing alone, looking excessively bored. Abandoning your glass, you hurry over to her.

“I have news…”  You try to keep your voice neutral but grab her arm and practically drag her away from anyone within earshot.

“Well, it cannot be good if you are willing to rip my arm off to impart it,” she remarks dryly as you lead her down a hallway.

“It is not,” you pull a face that you know will convey to her the gravity of what you need to divulge.

With a nod of understanding and a look to a nearby footman, she leads you beyond him into an area of the house off-limits for guests. 

“Tell me…” her tone is sincere as she ushers you into the library and closes the door.

“My father has seen fit to arrange a marriage for me. He is planning to announce it tonight, right here at your family ball!”

She says nothing, only a sympathetic noise as she pulls you into a consoling hug. The emotions you have been tamping down for hours escape as a couple of bitter tears, her arms banding tight around you. You are not sure how long, but you stand in a hug, just grateful for her steadfast support.

“What am I to do?” you whisper.

“I do not know,” she confesses. “Have you tried to reason with your father?”

“A hopeless cause…”  

Her mouth twists in understanding, knowing you will have put up a spirited defence as much as she would have. She detangles from you and goes to a nearby brandy decanter.

“It's the very least you deserve, frankly,” she points out, handing you a glass and pulling you into a loveseat with her, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, clinking her glass against yours in a silent but bittersweet toast about your seemingly futile situation.

-iii-

Half an hour later, your parents are distracted across the far side of the room with friends when a large hand grabs yours out of the blue. You startle when you realise it is Benedict, your heart suddenly in your mouth. Before you know it, you are wordlessly being pulled out of the French doors behind you and into the night air.

“Where are we going!?” you demand when you recover from the initial surprise, his gloved hand tugging yours along through the darkened gardens. 

“Shh, make haste, we must not be seen,” he hushes you but keeps moving, furtive and fast, your feet having to take extra steps to keep up with his long stride over the lush, dewy grass.

“Benedict…” you try again once you round a thick hedge into the rose garden.  “What is going on?”

He slows a little but does not relinquish his tight hold. Gravel path now crunching under his boots as the honeyed scent of damask hangs heavy in the air. 

“Eloise told me,” is all he offers. “So we are escaping.”

“W-we are?” you stutter, frowning, a claggy tumult behind your ribs at his use of ‘we’. 

“Yes! Or at least we would be if you would keep quiet… please…” he amends, sounding a touch contrite about his initial brusqueness, but speeding up again, headed straight for a small wooden door in a high stone wall, almost hidden behind long, draping ropes of ivy, glowing silver in the moonlight.

When you reach it, he releases his grip on your hand and shoulders the door open with considerable force. The weathered wood creaks loudly, almost splintering under the duress. He signals to the inky blackness of the deserted mews behind Bridgerton House.

“It is now or never, y/n,” he warns as you look back at the house, lit up with the life of the ball inside. “So what is your choice?”

He may be presenting it as an option, but really, you know there would only ever be one answer. You would accompany him to the ends of the earth if he so much as asked. And so wordlessly, you step through the doorway and into the narrow street beyond.

“Good choice,” he compliments as he follows suit and closes the door behind him. “You may stay at my friend Granville’s tonight,” he offers sagely, “I have not seen him in a while, but I will explain when we arrive; I am certain he can provide shelter.”

“Benedict, I already know Henry… Quite well, in fact.”

He looks taken aback as if it had not occurred to him that you may move in the same clandestine circles as he does. To be fair, you have always been discreet in your outings, and it’s not something you have divulged to anyone, including Eloise. Still, what confounds you more is why he is suddenly so seemingly invested in seeing you escape from your predicament. It doesn't entirely make sense.

“Well, then,” he cuts into your brief reverie, “you know Henry is a generous host and discreet about the affairs of others. Your father will not come looking for you there. It will buy some time to figure out what to do next. To ensure your freedom.”

“Freedom?” You scoff. “Benedict, as much as I may wish it, there is no other path open to me. Tonight is merely a delay tactic at best. The only way to stop my father’s pursuit of this union is if I marry another….”

The admittance of this truth out loud makes you restless, belatedly realising that it truly is your only way out. You stalk towards the main road, the faint glow of the street lamp guiding your way over the cobbles. You soon hear Benedict’s footsteps behind.

“That is ridiculous!” he exclaims as he attempts to catch up with you. “There are other options available to you…”

“Such as?” you whip around, raising your hands, countering his assertion. When he falters, you return to walking, throwing a tart addition over your shoulder: “Unlike you, a man, I do not have the freedom of choice.” 

“You should always have a choice…” he counters earnestly, still catching up to your furious pace.

“Should and do are different things, Benedict. You do not even know how lucky you are!” You add bitterly, rounding onto the main street.

A gust of wind causes you to pause and a shiver to run down your arms, your gauzy dress not enough to ward off the unseasonable chill in the air tonight. Ever the observant gentleman, Benedict shucks his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Uncharitably, your ire makes you attempt to shake it off, even while knowing it is intended purely as a chivalrous gesture. You are surprised when he seems to grasp your shoulders tighter, holding the heavy velvet in place. It is cloaked in his woodsy, citrus scent, your vexed state turning into an entirely different type of flush as he crowds closer to you.

“My birth has allowed me certain privileges, I concede,” he replies, his stare seemingly far away as you are unable to look anywhere but the dampness of his bottom lip, shimmering slightly in the lamplight. Then he tilts his head down to meet your eyes. “But that does not mean I am able to have everything I wish for in life, y/n…”

Your tongue burns to ask what it is that he wants but cannot have, yet you do not allow yourself to pry. But seeing the wistfulness in his gaze deflates your irritation, your long-held adoration for this man taking over, making you sigh.

‘You deserve the world, Benedict….’

His face morphs into one of breathtaking intensity, and you realise, horrified, you spoke those thoughts aloud. 

“As do you, y/n,” he murmurs, eyes sincere, your heart beating wildly as his chest vibrates against your own. 

The upheaval of the last day, the man you secretly adore abetting a somewhat daring escape, your heated exchange of words, the lateness of the hour, and the feel of his tall, lithe body pressed against yours…. It's all a dangerous cocktail that culminates in you being utterly impetuous, pushing up onto your tiptoes and mashing your mouth against his with no thought.

His lips are plush and warm, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. It's like a cannon firing in your chest as his warm mouth opens yours. Suddenly, you are urgently taking from each other. A sweeping tidal wave through you obliterates any kissing experiences you have ever had before. It’s a desperate slide of tongues, a passionate continuation of your sparring. His hands are like a hot brand through your thin dress as they sweep around to your back, tugging you into him, his heat, scent and taste overwhelming.

But all too soon you are pulling apart, a need for air in your lungs overriding the spontaneous, reckless moment. For a few seconds, you stare at each other, breathing each other's panted air, hands still grasping onto each other, almost confused by what just occurred… until the whinny of a passing horse carriage has you springing apart as if burned. 

Realisation engulfs his entire being. “Oh god! Please, please forgive me!” he stutters, backing away, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, almost tripping in his haste to put space between you, even though it was you who kissed him. “Please, just go to Granville,” he counsels rapidly before turning heel and disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone, unmoored and breathless, utterly turned upside down.

-iv-

You drift home in a daze, your family’s London residence only a few hundred yards away. Your escape plans are forgotten in the haze of tumbling thoughts about that blistering kiss. How fervently and immediately Benedict had kissed you back, how wonderful it felt to be caged in his arms….  Climbing into bed and passing out, still bewildered. In fact, it’s only the rude awakening of your bedroom door slamming open the following morning that brings you crashing back to your senses.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Your father roars, holding aloft what looks like the latest copy of Whistledown. “You have brought shame upon our family and likely ruination to your prospects!!”

Utterly alarmed, you sit bolt upright, blinking, taking a few moments before you can find your voice. “What are you referring to, father?”.

He glares at you, then throws the paper onto your bed and stalks out of the room without another word, puce with outrage. You know there will be crossed words at the breakfast table. The sight of your name on the crisp ivory page immediately draws your eye, and your stomach plunges as you read the paragraph:

The annual Bridgerton Ball last night was, once again, resplendent. A triumph that the dowager Countess can be rightfully proud of. Although less contentment could likely be gleaned from the behaviour of her offspring. The second eldest of whom was allegedly seen escaping into the unlit gardens hand in hand with none other than the most reluctant of this season's debutantes, the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. Perhaps the rebellious Miss will not have to endure many more of society’s events that she so patently abhors, should a proposal from the most wayward of Bridgerton sons be forthcoming? I, for one, however, Dear Reader, am not holding my breath…

Hiding in your room as long as you can, hunger drives you to join the frosty lunch table, apologising for inadvertently ruining your father’s plans to announce your betrothal and meekly explaining the incident with Benedict as a complete misunderstanding. It was merely an old friend helping you to gather some air before the big news was to be proclaimed. His taking your hand was out of benevolent concern, nothing more, and when you suddenly felt unwell, he chivalrously saw you the few hundred yards home. The lies feel odd on your tongue, your thoughts only of Benedict’s mouth and body moulded hotly to yours as your father lectures about appropriate behaviour for a young lady and your family’s long-standing friendship with the Bridgertons not being an excuse for a lackadaisical attitude to impropriety.

“There is nothing else to be done now—I must secure you a special licence to be wed tomorrow before Lord Farringdon hears about this,” he decrees with finality, his tone brokering no argument.

You slump silently into your chair, dread creeping through every cell, silently chastising yourself for not following Benedict’s advice and running away. If only you hadn't been impetuous and kissed him, you might have been in your right mind to do so. It feels cruel that the one moment you chose to throw caution to the wind is the one moment that sealed a worse fate.

-v-

That afternoon, your mother ushers you to the Modiste, paying handsomely for a very rushed wedding dress. Something simple that can be finished at such a late hour. It will only be your family in attendance anyway; so much else seems unnecessary. As you stand forlornly upon the raised dias, ivory silk tacked up around you with pins; your mother announces she needs to depart to secure other last-minute arrangements, leaving your trusty ladies' maid to accompany you home once alterations are complete.

“You do not look a happy bride…” Madam Delacroix mutters after the tinkle of the bell above the door signals her departure.

“Your observation skills are certainly not lacking,” you respond quietly, craning to double-check that Rachel, your maid, is out of earshot, sitting listlessly in the front of the store, staring out of the window.

“I do read Whistledown, my dear,” she remarks delicately, “and this does not appear to be a dress someone marrying a Bridgerton would wear.”

Your stomach vaults at the implication; the thought of marrying Benedict has your heart going haywire, even as you know it would never happen. The crestfallen look as your mind flits to the awful man you will be marrying instead is one you cannot hide as she meets your eyes in the reflection.

“It is not indeed,” you sigh, “but Whistledown has rather accelerated my unfortunate fate. Hence the rushed dress…” you gesture to your outfit.

“Mr Bridgerton is a friend?” she digs delicately.

“Lifelong,” you admit, “but Lady Whistledown could not have been more erroneous in her assertions…”

“That you and Mr Bridgerton are together? Or that he would marry you?” 

You look away from the mirror and down to where she is crouched by your hem on your left side, taken back not only at her astuteness but her drive for information. Almost as if she were Whistledown herself.

“I do not mean to pry,” she modifies, “merely to understand your predicament. Maybe I can be of assistance? I have privately counselled many a young lady on the eve of their wedding. Be it a happy occasion or not. And have kept many a secret of the Ton. ‘Tis the reason my business is so successful, Miss y/l/n. A good modiste can be a trusted confidante.”

“W-we are not together,” you stumble out without meaning to.

“But you wish to be? Or perhaps something has happened between you?”

Your eyes dart furtively, and your cheeks heat at the memory, but you say nothing. 

“You need say no more,” she chuckles and offers a knowing smile that appears as much reminiscent as sympathetic.

You rapidly attempt to deflect. “I do not wish to be married to anyone, really. I do find it so unfair a man is free to pursue his passions in life, but merely due to my sex, I am not.”

There is a nod of understanding, and she stands up with her hands on her hips. “I keep a certain array of refreshments for special clients such as yourself.” She nods to what looks like a liquor cabinet partially obscured behind a curtain at the back of her shop. “If you can dismiss your maid, I can assist you on your last night as an unmarried lady.”

The suggestion is too intriguing to refuse. And Rachel will greatly appreciate your pin money.

A few hours later, you are sat upon a circular conversation chair, Gen, as she insists you call her, pouring you another snifter of brandy.

“Tell me, what is your passion?” she inquires, her polished French accent slipping a little, sounding far more East End than Parisian. Something about that makes you like her more.

“Art,” you answer wistfully, “not that I have many opportunities to practice beyond a private notebook. But it is my most prized possession.” You gesture to your pelisse, hanging on a nearby hook. “I have it with me always. I have sewn a secret pocket into all of my coats myself.”

“Ingenious! ” She declares. “You shall have my job one day!”

You laugh, feeling light for the first time in what feels like days, as Gen leans in, raising an eyebrow. “I can also see well why you may have bonded with Mr Bridgerton…”

You giggle and lower your eyes, taking a fortifying sip.

“But it is not just that, is it?” Her tone is thoughtful, delicate even, as she continues: “A life outside the boundaries of so-called polite society can be so very beguiling, can it not? I have seen you, Miss y/l/n, at parties in Bloomsbury…”

A panicked bile rises as your head snaps up.

“As I said before, I am always discreet,” she reassures, “your secret is more than safe with me,” she winks before taking a generous sip from her glass.

Possibly, it's the alcohol, but her understanding of your predicament and the fact she has, unbeknownst to you, moved in similar circles brings an odd sense of relief. Having a confidante, someone to finally share your secrets with, albeit a somewhat stranger, lifts a burden from your shoulders. Wonderful as Eloise is, being the sister of the man who secretly holds your heart is not without complications in many ways.

“Another?” she chimes animatedly, holding aloft the bottle.

You cannot resist that offer.

-vi-

It’s close to midnight when Gen loops her arm in yours as she guides you, quite inebriated herself, away from the hackney cab to the familiar abode of one Henry Granville. Her declaration that a party is what you need on your last night of freedom is definitely not one you would dispute. A myriad of heightened emotions roil inside as you await the door being answered: contentment at your newly cemented friendship with Gen, bewildered every time you think of your kiss with Benedict and abhorrence for tomorrow. 

As you wander into the debauched tableau of a party in full swing: the air thick with smoke and merriment, the sounds of pleasure, people consorting together, a hedonistic swirl of self-expression unfurling all around you—it all consolidates into a yen to be reckless. Take part this time rather than just observe as you have before. Alcohol mutating the simmering rage about the injustice of your circumstance into a yearning to experience pleasure, especially physical. To get lost in sensation on your one last night of liberty.

So when you encounter Sir Simms - Matthew - friend to your older brother, renowned rake, but quite handsome, you throw caution to the wind. He seems delighted to see you, instantly flirtatious and familiar in a way you would rebuff any other night but this one. Whispering in your ear how very bold you are to be at such a bohemian event and pondering what other adventurous experiences you might be willing to indulge in. At one point Gen pulls you aside, her breath sweetened with fermented fruits, as she leans in and counsels you to be cautious. But you rebuff her concerns, swatting away her hold and returning to Matthew, allowing him to pull you into a kiss. 

It’s not the same as with Benedict; your mind screams at the altogether more jarring experience. A wet invasion of tongue that is less pleasant and certainly doesn’t fire anything inside you the way that he had. Merely kindling a defiant resolve to rage against the dying light of your freedom. And so when he slurs into your ear, you consent to his invitation upstairs, knowing fully the implications of what will transpire—feeling vaguely detached from yourself as he pulls you along by the hand towards the staircase. 

Suddenly, your field of vision is filled with dark blue velvet, a strong arm wrapping around you, caging you into a warm body mass, disconnecting your hand from Matthew’s—crossed words in two male voices. A momentarily confusing blur that only begins to make sense when you tilt your chin up… and the breath is quite stolen from your lungs.

Benedict.

At first, it feels like a cruel mirage, the man you most desire here to stymie your last gamble at impulsivity. His hold is strong as you sense Matthew shrink away, defeated by Benedict’s threat to expose some dalliance or other. But as he whisks you to an empty room within the house, all you feel bubbling up is anger.

“Stop trying to rescue me!” you rail, reeling out of his grip and stamping your foot to emphasise your point, uncaring that you may be behaving more akin to a petulant toddler.

“Stop making foolish decisions!” he lobbies back after a fleeting wounded look.

You glare at him momentarily before turning your back and staring out of the window into the inky blackness of Granville’s garden, frustration prickling a tear in the corner of your eye.

Behind you, there is a sigh; then his voice turns softer. “Why did you not follow my advice? I came here this morning only to be informed you never arrived…”

That he came to check on you weakens your bluster, although you still have no earthy idea why, once again, he is so invested in your actions. But you are not done saying your piece. 

“What does it matter now?” you bite bitterly before spinning around to face him. “Benedict, we are in Whistledown. My father would have arranged a special licence for tomorrow regardless of whether I had come here or not…”

“He did what?” he splutters, shock almost choking the words.

You square your shoulders and cross your arms defensively. “I am to be married in the morning. 11am at St George’s.” When all he offers is floored silence, you uncharitably dig the knife in. “No thanks to you...” 

Your words are like a body blow, a world of hurt in his quiet tone as he stares at the ground. “I was only trying to help.” 

Regret floods your every cell; why you would choose to lash out at him, even you don't know—so many conflicting feelings and strong liquor coursing through you.

“Please… let me return to the party,” you sigh wearily, after a beat, gesturing to his blocking your exit from the room.

“You would regret what you were about to do until your dying day,” he attests, lifting his head, a vein on his forehead pulsing as his jaw tenses.

“Perhaps,” you shrug. “But that is my burden to endure, not yours.”

“I am your friend,” he frowns, “I will always want to alleviate your burdens…”

“I do not want a friend, Benedict, not tonight. I want a beau.” If you aimed to shock him, you are successful; a cavalcade of expressions warring on his face as you plough on. “So please move so that I may continue with my most inadvisable plan….”

“No.” It's soft but unequivocal, resolute.

When you realise he is not going to budge, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Benedict?” 

There is a gruff noise in the back of his throat, and then, with two determined strides, he is pressed up against you, his breath hot on your face. Then he is kissing you, ferociously, wantonly, opening your mouth with his, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you roughly into him.

And you are lost.

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[babydollitzel]

can you do ponyboy x reader headcanons!

𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜’𝐬

𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings/extra; nothing bad really just metions of making out and ‘the talk’

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ I tried making this long since my last couple of posts have been pretty short so yeah I’ll try to make my next posts longer!

𐙚 he’s lowkey so sassy

𐙚 but other than that he always walks you home just in case some socs try to mess with you, even though he’s worried himself that they’ll come for him

𐙚 but besides his worries, when you guys walk you hold hands and swing them back and forth

𐙚 I feel like he gets jealous sometimes so if someone’s checking you out he’ll just hold your hand or have an arm around your shoulder to show that you’re dating

𐙚 writes you little poems and notes about how much he loves and appreciates you

𐙚 you guys going to the drive in, but hardly watch the movie. You mainly spend the time eating popcorn, drinking cokes, and just talking

𐙚 you guys hang out at your house a lot since Pony shares a room with Soda

𐙚 like you guys are just laying on your bed, your head in Pony’s lap while he reads some book to you

𐙚 you guys study together sometimes, but sometimes they end up in small make outs, I mean, it’s what most teenagers do after all

𐙚 but you guys don’t do anything further than making out, after Darry had given you both a very uncomfortable ‘talk’

𐙚 as for cuddling I feel like sometimes he likes being the one being held

𐙚 like he’d be laying on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair because when his hair’s not greased, it’s so very soft

𐙚 if you guys argue they’re just over petty things because Pony’s lowkey stubborn, never wants to admit he’s wrong

𐙚 but fortunately in the end you guys always make up

𐙚 when you guys hang out Johnny’s there 70% of the time, sometimes you wonder if Johnny’s the third wheel or if you are

𐙚 but you don’t mind because Johnny’s your friend too

𐙚 whenever he has a track meet you always make sure to sit at the bleachers, sitting at the row that’d be closest to Pony, that way he can hear you cheer for him extra loudly to embarrass him

𐙚 One part of him is appreciative that you’re cheering for him but the other part is just feeling embarrassed as heck.

𐙚 Like he’ll just side eyes you and motion for you to stop but that’s how you know it’s working!

𐙚 but anyway your parents think he’s a pretty good kid too, he’s pretty normal besides being named ‘Ponyboy🤓’ but that’s alright

𐙚 As for Pony’s brothers, Darry knew you were a nice girl, but wasn’t sure about you guys dating. He’d rather have Pony focus on his studies.

𐙚 Once he saw you and Pony studying together, he knew that you were good for him and his schoolwork

𐙚 Soda thinks you’re a nice girl too, but do expect him, Steve, and Two-bit to tease you and Pony

𐙚 Overall he’s a real good boyfriend ♡

[ljaylmaoo]

Only Yours

hook x fem!reader

summary: you and hook have a relationship that everyone wishes they could experience and someone tries to break you two apart

genre: very angsty, also extremely fluffy

warnings: hook is really soft in this lol, hickeyss, arguments, there’s a kiss without consent in this, I think that’s it

a/n: hii! this is my FIRST post and one-shot that I wrote out of pure boredom lol. if there’s any typos sorry, I wrote this from 2 am to 7 am in one go lol. please let me know what you think after, AND PLEASE feel free to send requests! as I had a lot of fun writing this and would love to write more! hope you enjoy! thank you :)

word count: 3.6k

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

At the moment, you were doing the final touches of your makeup in anticipation of Castlecoming. You weren’t very fond of wearing a dress. Sure you loved fashion, but dresses? Most certainly not. But you promised Bridget that if she got Ella to wear a dress, you would too. You also wanted to surprise your boyfriend James who would never expect you to actually wear a gown such as this one. So there you stood, admiring your figure in the gold, arched, full length mirror that sat in the corner of your dorm after brushing on some highlighter on the highest part of your cheekbones and tip of your nose. You cursed at yourself for liking the way the gown looked on you.

“Wow..”

The sudden low whisper like voice from the left of you made you jump a bit then relaxed when you recognized the comforting voice of your boyfriend which instantly washed away the nerves you previously had. You glanced over your shoulder, a radiant smile that couldn’t be hidden even if you tried crept up as you caught the sight of your breathtakingly beautiful lover carrying a bouquet of your favourite flowers in one hand and a box with a bow that held a corsage that luckily matched your dress perfectly.

He slowly made his way up to you, taking in every detail of the rare sight that lied in front of him. He gently set down the box on your vanity, “Art has no depiction that’s fitting of your description. Even the most ignorant would applaud and long for my loves radiance.”

A soft blush washed over your cheeks, “says you, my pretty boy.” You giggle taking the flowers he presented to you with a bow and placed your arms around his neck with him pulling your waist close to him. James has always been a romantic. Every compliment he gives makes Shakespeare’s poems seem dull. Everyone in the academy ached to have your kind of love. And the girls were envious of how James showed his love for you. Always showing you off every chance he gets. He was proud to call you his. He also could never keep his hands off of you, always had to be touching you someway twenty four seven.

Though you two were infatuated with love for one another, there would be the odd argument that would leave you not talking for a day or two which was usually due to his mean and sometimes cruel words that he really didn’t mean. He was still a VK after all.

“Doesn’t my darling look ravishing today?” Was something he would ask the VKs daily as he watched from afar with googoo eyes while smiling like an idiot as you were laughing and talking with your friends, not taking his eyes off you once. Even if you were in a fight and not talking that day.

“Aren’t you guys in a fight?”

“Doesn’t make her any less breathtaking and heavenly to look at.”

These days were torture for him. He tried to be tough and not show how much he was suffering without you, but it never lasted long. By the time he finally breaks he comes knocking on your door with a teddy and “I’m sorry” flowers with him apologizing profusely almost leaving him in tears begging you to take him back explaining how lonely his bed is and how he missed being tangled up with you in your bed every night having the ability to hold you close to him as you drifted off to sleep, and of course you can never stay mad at him. Especially when he’s making himself look like a fool in front of others as they passed by not caring if they judged him by how pathetic he looked, his mind only being set on getting you back.

He was also very protective and possessive of you. If anyone was mean to you or dared try to lay a hand on you flirtatiously, he wasn’t afraid to handle them himself or he would aggressively yet still carefully grab your waist, sometimes with his hook, and kiss you in front of them before smirking at them and watched with satisfaction as they rolled their eyes and walked off. He’d also sometimes give you a few hickeys, making sure that they were as visible as possible. you both wore a necklace with each other’s initials engraved and a diamond heart.

He had also gifted you a beautiful promise ring for your one year anniversary and you’ve worn it ever since.

His favourite pastime was gazing at you while you did your schoolwork or as you slept in his arms. “My heart is so full of you, I can hardly call it my own.” Is just one of the many examples he would say whenever you got insecure and were in denial. He always made sure you knew his devotion to you was for eternity.

You were soulmates without a doubt. Twin flames.

He kissed you passionately, hungrily placing his soft plump lips on yours. You melted into his touch, smiling at his desperation to get as physically close to you as possible in anyway he could. You tried to pull away to catch your breath but he wouldn’t let you, “James” you laughed with his lips still attached to yours, lightly pushing him away at his chest.

He finally pulled away, “yes, love?” He smiled still staring at your lips, lovingly

“I could barely breathe” you laughed again, “I’m sorry darling, I just can’t ever get enough of you.” He shamelessly admitted. You both stayed close admiring each other’s features, leaving no room in between. His hands still firm on your lower back as you stroked his hair. His hair was probably your favourite feature of his. It was soft and always the perfect length, swept back.

“I love you so much.” you whispered looking into his eyes while fixing his collar and necklaces after messing it up a bit from the kiss

“Not as much as I do you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think so” you replied knowing you always lose the ‘I love you more’ arguments. He laughed, “oh darling, we both know that’s not possible. My love for you will remain as infinite as the stars.” He said while caressing your cheek. You placed your hand on top of his and smiled shyly. He grabbed the box off of the vanity and took the corsage out, he gently took your hand and slid it onto your wrist then kissed your hand softly. “There you are my love.” He said while looking up at you. You had your hand on your chest, “oh my goodness! Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You said while looking at it in awe. He smiled, “of course darling.” He gave you a quick kiss and lead you to the door and opened it, “after you, gorgeous.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You and James entered the ballroom together with your arm wrapped around his and hands intertwined looking around the huge decorated room. It was everything you’d imagined it would be. Everyone dressed up in breathtakingly beautiful suits and gowns scattered around the room mingling with their friends or dancing with their loved ones as music played in the background. James watched you in adoration, the amazement in your eyes made them sparkle along with the light glistening from the chandeliers above. The two of you got some glances from your peers of course as you were named ‘Best Couple’ in the yearbook and everyone adored your relationship for the most part. Among the people who were jealous, there was one girl in particular that absolutely despised your relationship. That girl goes by the name of Aria. (if your name is Aria I’M SORRY LMAO) She hated how happy you guys were especially of how loving James was towards you and hated how much people adored your relationship.

She was also James’ ex girlfriend.

They were together for eight months and broke up just five months before you both officially started dating. During those eight dreadful months, they were extremely toxic. They would get into pointless heated arguments on a daily basis at school, some even resulting in James earning a slap to the face, but then would be seen back together by the end of the day making out by the lockers or something. You knew of James beforehand because he was part of Uliana’s crew and also because you had to pass his locker almost everyday in order to get to class and that was usually where they would have their fights. He never paid any attention to you at first, but when Uliana began tormenting Bridget, you caught his eye. He’d constantly try to flirt with you and you would often find him to be staring at you whenever you weren’t looking. One thing led to another and after four months of his many attempts to try and get to you, you finally gave in and decided to give him a chance and a month later, it was made official. You don’t know what changed in him for him to treat you the complete opposite of how he treated Aria and she hated you for it though she couldn’t do anything about it because she knew what he and the VK’s would do if she did. So she always judged from afar, only doing as much as giving you a glare everytime you made eye contact. She wanted to try and sabotage your relationship the night of Castlecoming and break the two of you up, so she came with a plan.

Aria was with her friends when one of them spoke up, “woah, they look grossly fabulous tonight..” she turned and her jaw dropped instantly when she saw the two of you on the other side of the room talking to Uliana and the rest of the group, James spinning you around to show off your gown. She boiled with rage and turned back to her friends, “yeah, we are definitely going to break them up tonight.”

As James was talking with Morgie, you spotted your friends Bridget and Ella so you lightly tapped his shoulder and leaned in to whisper making sure Uliana didn’t notice as she was currently talking with Maleficent beside you, “I’m going to go say hi to Bridget and Ella, okay?” He looked down at you and kissed gave you a quick kiss, “okay, love.” You gave one more kiss on the cheek before heading off towards your friends.

Bridget squealed with excitement as she saw you approaching them, “oh my gosh! Y/n?! You look amazing!” She came up and pulled you into a hug, squeezing tightly to express how proud she was. “I know, I know” you jokingly said after she let go while blushing a bit. You smiled and hugged Ella, “wow I didn’t actually think I’d see you in a dress, like ever.” Ella gave a small smile and laughed, “I could say the same to you.” You scoffed, “well of course I did. We wouldn’t wanna disappoint our girl here now, would we?” You said while patting Bridget on the shoulder who was bursting with excitement jumping up and down while clapping her hands, “okay we need! To take pictures, come on!” She insisted before pulling you both over to the Photo Booth.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It was later into the night and you were dancing with James, Ella had to go home due to her strict curfew her stepmother gave her, and Bridget went back to her dorm to let you and James have some time together. Aria and her friends watched you with rage as you were gazing into each other’s eyes lovingly, waiting for the perfect moment to begin her plan. He spun you around as the song ended and kissed your hand before leading you off the dance floor, “could I get you another drink, my love?” He questioned, “yeah, sure. I’ll be over there I just have to go to the bathroom quick.” He nodded and the two of you went your separate ways.

Aria smirked at her friends as the first part of her plan had come. She slyly walked off to the fruit punch table and stood in front of it waiting for James to walk up. “Hi James.” She said suspiciously sweet, he only rolled his eyes and scoffed, “what do you want? Can you move, please?” Aria gave a fake pout, “what? All I did was say hi.” She said innocently, “oh did you want some punch? I’ll get them for you.” She turned and grabbed two cups, “two right? One for you and one for your little girlfriend?” James had his arms crossed and stood impatiently, looking away from her, “yup.” Aria giggled and poured the first one, “here’s yours” she smiled before turning to pour the other. James took a sip of the drink while he waited.

A few moments later, you finished touching up your make up after washing your hands in the bathroom and walked out towards the punch table but you stopped in your tracks. There, in front of the punch table was Aria who had forcefully pulled James into an unexpected kiss. Your heart shattered at the sight. You made eye contact with James who had a shocked and angry expression that you couldn’t see. Your eyes welled up with tears before you ran out of the ballroom. James pushed Aria off him, “get off of me! What the hell, Aria?” He scolded before shoving the punch into her hands and ran after you. She watched him run after you with a smirk taking a sip in satisfaction.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You came bursting into your room as you cried, slipping off your heels and taking the accessories out of your hair and throwing them onto the vanity followed by your earrings and necklace. You ripped the corsage off your wrist and threw it into the trash can beside you. You studied yourself in the mirror, hating yourself for deciding to wear a gown only to surprise the one you thought loved you most only for them to humiliate you and look like a fool. You went and sat down on your bed as you cried into your hands. James came into the dorm in a panic causing you to jump, “Love, I can explain!” You furrowed your eyebrows in anger while looking at him in disgust, “no! I don’t want to hear it, James!”

“No, no, no, really darling! It wasn’t what it looked-“ you got up from the bed, “Oh yeah? Cause it looked like my boyfriend was kissing his ex girlfriend by the punch table!”

“Well yes but-“

“Do you still have feelings for her, James?” You yelled as you walked closer, “were you only using me to get back at her? Did you even love me?!” He was stuttering as he tried to answer every question you threw at him, “what? No! Of course I do!” He tried but you continued to yell at him, causing him to get angry and the screaming match began. It never ever got this bad before. If the dance wasn’t still going on, everyone would for sure be able to hear every insulting and harsh words you were throwing at each other. There were hot tears streaming down your faces as you continued. But as bad as it was, and as much as you wanted to, neither of you had the willpower to officially call the relationship off. You loved each other too much to do so and you both knew that.

You took the flowers he gave you earlier off your desk and harshly shoved them into his chest, “Get out! I don’t want you here! Leave!” You pushed him out the door and slammed it in his face. You took a deep breath and turned around, and started towards your bed. You didn’t know what to think or how to feel. You knew what he was saying made sense and knew he loved you far too much to ever do something to hurt you. But you don’t know why you kept going at him.

You sat down and stared down at the floor, your mind so lost in deep thought that you didn’t even realize you had changed out of your dress and into your pyjamas. You looked down at the shirt you’d just finished putting on and sighed, it was his shirt. You shut your lamp off and lied down on your bed and stared up at the ceiling as the thoughts in your head continued to flow. Why was he with Aria in the first place for that to happen? He shouldn’t have let that happen. But after a while you felt really bad for what you had said to him and the names you called him. But was he mad at you now too? You heard something that was slid under the crack of your door, you sat up and looked at the little piece of paper that was on the floor. You turned your lamp back on and slowly walked over and picked it up. You opened the paper, “My Beautiful Darling Y/n, no matter how much we fight, the love I have for you will never fade. You will never be unloved by me for you are far too well tangled in my soul. The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I’m so very sorry I let this happen, My Love.” You wiped a tear from your cheek as you finished reading. You set the note down on your nightstand and lied back down on your bed.

You tried to fall asleep but you just couldn’t. You missed the feeling of being secured and safe in his arms while he whispered sweet nothings as you drifted off to sleep. Your bed felt cold. Lonely.

After a few more minutes of attempting to force yourself to sleep, you got up and crept out of your room and down the stairs and proceeded down another long hallway before stopping in front of an all too familiar door. You stared at it, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea. But before you could make a decision, you were already making your way inside the dark room. You quietly walked towards the bed, softly and carefully getting under the covers making sure not to wake him. The warmth and familiarity of his body heat made you feel at ease. You looked over at his sleeping figure who was facing towards you and traced his features with your eyes, admiring everything about him and couldn’t help but smile. You really did love this boy with all your heart.

You turned away from him and sighed before closing your eyes to sleep, but just as you were drifting off, you felt an arm snake around your figure, pulling you close. You smiled and melted into his body as you felt the warmth of him engulf your backside, placing your hand on top of his that was placed above your stomach under your shirt. Well, his shirt. He pulled you closer and you felt him softly stroking your hair. Though it has only been a few hours since you’ve felt his touch, it felt like forever. You turned in his arms to face him and wrapped your arms around him scrunching the fabric of his shirt tightly in your hands while burying your face deep into his chest, he had managed to somehow pull you closer though it was physically impossible already.

“I’m sorry.” He heard your soft voice cry, muffled from being buried in his chest. He shook his head and stroked your head, “shh, no, no, no. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong, my love.” You let out a quiet sob which was terribly agonizing for him to hear. He looked down and placed his hand on your cheek, bringing your gaze up to his. You looked into his eyes with a pitiful gaze, he saw how broken you looked. The moonlight that seeped in through the window above his bed glistening off your tearful eyes. “Don’t cry, love..” he tried but you rambled on, spilling everything your heart was feeling at that moment causing the pieces of his already broken heart shatter into a million more pieces. He stared at you not knowing what to say after you were done, only pulling you into a deep kiss, more passionate than ever letting his body do the talking without saying any words, pulling your waist close to his. He left sloppy kisses down to your neck, lightly gracing the sensitive skin with his teeth making you gasp in pleasure and gently pull at his hair before he continued to leave his mark with a smile while telling you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you.

This continued until both your neck and chest were covered with love bites. He trailed kisses back up and kissed you once more. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily while looking into your lustful, heavy lidded eyes that were threatening to shut and noticed as your breathing slowed. He pulled you back in and you cuddled back into his chest, “I love you.” You whispered, trailing off as you began to fall into a deep, well needed slumber.

“I love you too, Darling.” He whispered, leaving a delicate kiss on your forehead and rested his head on yours as you both drifted off to sleep.

[moxiepower2]

Nevermore theory based on RnF’s latest post!

I think the eyeball in the center is both a reference to both the Old Man with the pale blue eye from “The Tell-Tale” Heart AND Ligeia’s eyes from “Ligeia”

(1/3) First of all: Ligeia’s Eyes

The coloring of the eyes doesn’t quite fit with the art in the post (Ligeia’s has black eyes) BUT I find it hard to ignore the star and dream imagery used when it’s VERY present in “Ligeia”.

The narrator (the husband) studies astrology and is DEEPLY in love with the darkly beautiful and intelligent Ligeia. She is described almost like a vampire with long raven hair, ivory skin, and a wild appearance. He is especially fascinated by her unusual large black eyes which he compares to the “twin stars of Leda” and describes them as “luminous orbs” (this last part also reminds me of the “orbs” from the 1st episode btw).

Ligeia later dies of illness, telling the narrator of her deeply love and reciting a poem about the unfairness of mortality on her deathbed. In his grief, the narrator becomes addicted to opium and later remarries Lady Rowena whom he doesn’t love. He ignores her, preferring to find comfort in “opium dreams” during which he has vivid visions of Ligeia.

Two months into his new marriage Lady Rowena also falls ill and is rendered into a state of half-slumber. Rowena also often has fits and starts crying out in her sleep leading the narrator to believe that some “phantasmagoric influence” is haunting Rowena in their bedchamber.

The narrator’s sanity/accuracy is honestly questionable before the “haunting”. He has a bad memory and doesn’t even remember MEETING LIGEIA OR HER LAST NAME?? The narration given is honestly pretty dreamlike itself as it’s hard tell what’s real or not between the husband’s opium addiction, bad memory, and debatable sanity.

At the end of the story, Lady Rowena dies and according to the narrator, her dead body turns into Ligeia. The corpse awakens the next day as newly risen and alive Ligeia who has seemingly defeated death.

“Here then, at least," I shrieked aloud, "can I never --can I never be mistaken --these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes --of my lost love --of the lady --of the LADY LIGEIA."

(What a very sane human being as per usual in Pow stories. Also, this went on a bit long sorry)

(2/3) The Old Man

Hang in there with me, this part is much much quicker to explain!

So, Tell-Tale Heart. I think this is a Poe story everyone pretty much knows. Guy is seemingly driven to madness out of fear of his old neighbor’s pale blue eye. He secretly watches the Old Man while he’s sleeping and later murders him and stuffs the body parts under his floor. When the police later arrive at the house, our narrator believes he hears the sounds of the Old Man’s heart and confessed his guilt.

Some imagery: Not much star imagery but definitely some of dreams/sleep. Much like Ligeia, the narration is definitely dreamlike. The Narrator is unreliable/insane so it’s hard to tell what observations he makes are actually real. The Old Man and the Narrator struggle with nightmares. A good chunk of this story is spent with narrator as he watches the Old Man sleep every night for a week.

Also, the eye in RnF’s post is a SINGLE PALE BLUE EYE. (Yeah, this last one is definitely surface-level evidence but I don’t think it’s without merit)

That’s pretty much it.

(3/3) How does this all connect?

The main reason I think that this new art piece connects to Ligeia AND The Tell-Tale heart is largely due to THESE GUYS

That’s right, Deans Merry and Mourn.

The Tell-Tale Heart

Awhile back I made a post theorizing that Annabel is connected to The Tell-Tale Heart due to the heart imagery surrounding her character (such as her spectre design). In the reblogs, me and @muzetrigger discussed more detailed theories (off-topic but @muzetrigger made a VERY convincing argument that Annabel Lee might play the role of the Narrator)

One of the topics that came up was the possibility of the Deans representing the character of the Old Man. @blacknedsoul-blog made a post a while back “I Think the Deans Are Fucking Lovecraftian Gods” (highly recommend) which pointed out that the Deans’ white/black heterochromia could be a reference to the Old Man’s cataract-ridden eye. Upon a closer look, it’s even possible that their white eyes are actually a very very pale blue.

I would also like to add on to this theory by pointing out that much like the Old Man’s Eye drove the Narrator to murder and madness (though unwittingly), the Deans are driving the students to those very same things by forcing a bunch of already traumatized people to participate in a death game.

Ligeia

Earlier in this post, I mentioned that the husband from Ligeia compared her eyes to “the twin stars of Leda”

These TWIN stars, Castor and Pollux named after a pair of TWINS from greek mythology are widely known as the “Heavenly TWINS” and form part of the constellation Gemini. Hmmmm….

A few more similarities to Ligeia:

The Deans also have the ability to get in people’s heads and MESS WITH THEIR MEMORIES. In Ligeia, the Husband is completely consumed with thoughts/visions of Ligeia for most of his waking and sleeping hours. He is seemingly unable to focus on anything else and this continues even when his new wife Lady Rowena is dying. As mentioned before, the Husband also has a memory problems and can’t remember meeting Ligeia or even her full name, just that he loved her. This is not unlike the memory loss of all the students at Nevermore Academy, particularly Lenore & Annabel Lee.

By the way, have a mentioned how interesting this panel from the Bell Arc is? It’s very suspicious the we glimpses of the eldritch forms of the Deans and their Pale Blue Eyes right before Annabel Lee experiences a flashback of hearing the news of Lenore’s death. Not to mention they are physically lowering Annabel INTO THE MEMORY. Its almost like the Deans are the ones took the memories in first place and are just “returning” them or part of their job is being responsible for guiding students to their memories. HMMMM……

Not to mention they spend most of their time in DREAMLAND, a special dimension where you can relive past memories and even reach those whom you unable to speak with. Like say… a certain French man who’s UNCONSCIOUS in a brick wall.

Also, I seem to recall there’s definitely some night sky related imagery with these two. Especially when we are getting glimpses of their spectrey/eldritchy side.

Lastly, let’s go back to the Deans’s heterochromia. They both each have one BLACK EYE and together that makes a pair.

Also, I might be reading into this WAY too much but, take a good close look at the black eyes. In each, you’ll notice there’s a small white pupil. Kind of like a a single bright star in the black night sky. Two twin stars.

[nwarrior777]

So, august is Fat Liberation Month? i can't pass by!

Hello everyone! I am Kris, 27 yo queer representative artist. My goal of art is to draw diverse relatable characters in a gorgeous way, so people can feel themselves valid and seen

My characters are always, with very little exceptions, fat, queer, and has other realistic features of appearance. Recently i dived in disability topics, so i am adding this too. And i am doing such art for about a decade, so if you will look my blog you will find so much!

Here is what i have:

Short films! i have 3 original ones already on my youtube (NWarrior777)

(moments from film "LoveLoveLove)

A lot of comics!

(first two are pages from "Temperature of Love" and third one is one of WWV comic strips series)

Here is post there you can find most of finished comics! Also #wwv for series of little ones with that tomato vampire, werewolf and witch poly family

Even poem! (i started one not long ago. and also have accessible game in development since last year!)

(a part of my poem "And then the Rabbit saw The Sun)

And much much more!

oc drawings, fanart with diverse au and headcanons, tutorials, just art of random characters and oh! my pride - a project of mine i was making long ago

it's #reqbodyposi (both name and tag for find) - a project where people sent me request describing appearance or disability feature and i made art with it There are more than 50 drawings in this project and almost all characters are fat (i drawn fat character as default unless someone specified in request about thin figure)

So yep, welcome!

❤️❤️❤️

p.s. also all my content is free, i monetize only соммisоns. Which are my main income and i need to pay rent soon, so if you want and can support me by this or donate look in pined post UuU

[fr33time]

the subaru hcs are so adorable and your writing style is rly sweet!!! may I ask for a haku or a zenji bf hc too please?

A/N: heeheee yes of course, thank you for enjoying the last set! I honestly love Haku and Zenji so much. Also sorry for disappearing for a couple months, I haven’t been interested in writing but I wanted to finish these headcanons so I think I’ll be posting here a bit more now! Enjoy your night, smooches! ♡

BF headcanons with Zenji Kotodama and Haku Kusanagi ♥︎

Divider credits: @thecutestgrotto

genre: Headcanons, fluff

requesting rules here!

Zenji Kotodama

♥︎ Having a ghost as your boyfriend is definitely an interesting experience. Both of you really liked each other, and started a relationship but there are some hurdles you two have to jump over to be together. For example, going out places together, people think it’s a bit weird you’re talking to an anomaly all the time so you have to be a bit discreet so people think you aren’t going crazy.

♥︎ Zenji is very forward about his feelings, his confession took 7 minutes altogether. A 5 minute ode to you accompanied by his biwa, and then another 2 minute poem dedicated to his feelings. You have to be a bit patient but he’s so sweet about it that you don’t mind. He spills out his love through words and he tries his best to articulate those feelings.

♥︎ Occasionally likes to watch you sleep, he tells you about it in the mornings and makes sure that it’s fine. He wants to make sure you’re alright, since he can’t sleep he just wanders around and checks up on you.

♥︎ Both of you love to have sleepovers, his version of the sleepover is to just lay beside you the whole night. He makes sure that he stays so that you won’t feel lonely in the morning, he doesn’t sleep but he’s learned to shut off his mind for a bit to pass time. Even though he passes through you when you make physical contact with him, he lays his hand “on” yours to make it seem like he’s holding your hand while you sleep. He adores that you look so peaceful.

♥︎ He tries to get his younger brother used to you, he seemingly reacts hostile to anyone that tries to get close to Zenji, so he tries to give exposure therapy. You hang around Zenji so much that his brother doesn’t react anymore. Whenever someone is slightly mean to you and he’s nearby, the dolls eyes turn red and end up scaring away the person.

♥︎ Writes poems and songs for you all the time, he just has so much love for you that he can’t help it. You know the confession he performed for you? He tries to get Haku to help him put on an entire show for you, at some point Haku has to tell him to slow it down just a tad cause he’s afraid that it may be too much for you to handle. Unless you’re totally into it, you’d have to tell Haku directly that you don’t mind it, cause he knows that Zenji can get really excited.

♥︎ When you’re down, Zenji is very quick to notice. If you have your head tilted downwards, he’ll kneel down and look at you in the eyes and ask “What’s wrong my dear?” He shares your sadness with you, and he shows it. How can he be cheerful when someone he deeply cares about isn’t? Encourages you to cry and let it all out. If you’re not into sharing, you’d have to tell him what exactly you want because he won’t know what to do otherwise. When he’s so open about how he feels, he’s not sure how to comfort someone that would rather stay silent, especially when he can’t hug you. It breaks his heart to see you upset, and desperately tries to put the sweet smile back on your face.

Haku Kusanagi

♥︎ He loves to see you flustered, it’s one of the small joys in life for him. It amuses him and he’s just naturally flirty, so he finds that he doesn’t need to try that hard. If you flirted back he would be a little surprised but he loves to see you try.

♥︎ When it comes to PDA he prefers a nice, sweet handhold. He likes to make you feel loved and feeling close to you is part of that. In the winter he likes to share his scarf with you, and stuff your hands in his pockets so you’re warm… but it’s really just to get close to you, obviously he wants you to be warm as well, but he has his alternative motives that he’s free to share with you.

♥︎ Haku doesn’t play his flute that much since it’s mainly for spirits, but if you enjoy it then he can come up with a couple lovely melodies for you. While doing so, he accidentally calls tiny spirits and without your knowing, they gather around… whoops.

♥︎ Haku is usually busy around Hotarubi, so he can’t come visit you that often. Once in a while he’ll call you to tell you how much he misses you, and to save himself some time and energy, he asks you to come over and sit with him.

♥︎ Tries to find new ways to scare you, most of his tactics involve his expertise with spirits though. Hotarubi is a mysterious place and some of the things he says can be believable if he wants to convince you hard enough, he doesn’t try very hard though. He immediately says “just kidding” to put you at ease. It’s when he doesn’t say “just kidding” that you need to take what he says seriously.

♥︎ He isn’t one to be very open about his feelings, at some times he gets distant but when he notices you worrying he tries to tell you that everything is fine, he just needs to think for a bit. He’ll let some things slip but he changes the subject immediately, the one time he tells you about the deeper parts of himself it’s when it’s at night and you two are alone.

♥︎ At times when you cry, he feels like he doesn’t know what to do but he tries to handle it with his own experiences. He tries and gives practical advice, but he realizes that it may be ineffective at some points so he sticks to rubbing your back and validating how you feel. He goes with the flow so he goes along with what you need.

♥︎ When you two are alone in his room, he likes to look up at the ceiling with you. He supports your head with his arm and enjoys the silence. He won’t protest to what you want, it probably isn’t that great to be lying around on the floor all night anyways…

[facts-i-just-made-up]

what kind of music was around in the 80s

The 80s contained three distinct types of music:

New Wave

Glam Metal

Gothic Rock

New Wave was the most popular type of music, using synthesizers and incorporating cues from the post-punk world. Groups like The Talking Heads, The Flock of Seagulls, and The Gary Numan all made music that sold like pop music, but also maintained the limited creative diversity and inoffensive lack of risk of pop music.

Glam Metal took the pioneering darkness and toughness of Heavy Metal pioneered by Black Sabbath, Motörhead and Iron Maiden, then replaced it with long hair, expensive jackets, and songs about partying. The most metal thing about glam metal bands were their logos, which were airbrushed to look like they were made of metal. Sadly, the addiction of many such musicians to very tight pants rendered them all incapable of having children, so this genre didn't last beyond the 80s.

Gothic Rock by contrast ignored all pretense of popularity and embraced the pretense of unpopularity. The best gothic rock was the least popular, which made it the most popular, which in turn made it suck. Thus no gothic rock band lasted more than two albums before switching genres, failing and breaking up, and then going back to their origins with a reunion tour. Such bands embraced the dark aesthetic of the gothic revival and wrote lyrics resembling poems by Edgar Allan Poe and Edward Gorey. They were also fond of skulls, bats, and taking black and white photos in graveyards. You can easily recognize real gothic rock by the tendency of its singers to sound like they have tonsillitis and, paradoxically given their usual diet, not enough coffee.

The 80s also contained the video for "Never Gonna Give You Up," which is well known online yet rarely recognized as the breakthrough video by Simon West, future director of Con-Air. That part's real btw.

[ooo-yeah-baby]

im the anon from earlier lol

can i request a yandere gilbert blythe where it's his and the readers' wedding day? and then maybe including at the end them "cuddling" in bed together but it's really him holding her tightly whispering about some future together while she cries

sorry if that's a little morbid, i just thought it'd be a cool part two to the first one you posted

Arranged Pt 2

Yandere Gilbert Blythe x reader

I only write sfw, feel free to make requests. Thank you for asking!! Kinda short and not proof read. Enjoy :)

I love you..." his voice rings in your ears. 

"You're so beautiful..." his words make your skin crawl. 

"Are you listening?" You have no choice. 

From the moment your mother made you let him in to the note on the school board to shuffling down the isle this morning, you were miserable. 

Possibly the only enjoyable part of this was seeing how proud your mother was the whole way through. She had fixed up her old wedding dress and fitted it to you. She made you up like a doll for the ceremony. And as your father walked you down the isle you could see tears falling from her eyes. He was so happy. It would have been discomforting if you had thought too much into it though.

Gilbert stared in astonishment as you walked down the aisle in the church. When you arrived at the altar you wanted so badly to repeat the same actions as  Prissy had. Run out of the church and into the field. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

After the ceremony the reception was held. Your family and friends all told stories of both you and Gilbert- which were very much exaggerated for the occasion. 

Anne had written a poem, Josey made a few snide comments, Ruby talked up every interaction you'd had with Gilbert as if she hadn't been in love with him just a year ago.

It all made you so sick that you couldn't even swallow your food. 

Finally you were here. In Gilbert's home. Bash in the room next door caring for his baby, and Gilbert hugging you from behind, his face in the crook of your neck. 

"Are you listening Y/N?" He repeats, giving your body a small squeeze. You nod, tears sliding down your cheeks and over your nose. "I'm sorry..." he takes a deep breath. 

"For what?" You ask, knowing the answer. He'd done this countless of times in the last few months. Apologizing but never changing. 

"I want you to be happy..." you don't respond. It's easier to tune him out. "I'm aware you didn't want thus marriage..." you've fought him every step of the way on this. "So I'm sorry for forcing this onto you..." he's not sorry. He's quite right happy with himself. "But I do love you." The tears begin streaming down your face. "and I'll make sure you're happy. We can have a happy little family- if you want!" He stutters a bit. "We don't have to have kids if you don't want any. It's up to you." He thinks for a second. "It could just be us- and Bash and Delphine, of course."

This isn't love, to you. It's possession. It's kidnapping. It's grotesque and disgusting. Love is supposed to be flowery and sweet.

Maybe you could've had a real romance if Gilbert had approached you correctly; Walked up to you in class, talked to you about your day, invited you over for a nice meal and took your wants and needs into consideration. But that's not what he did. He went to your parents, who gave him his guaranteed spouse. It was as if nothing you thought or felt mattered. 

"I love you, Y/N..." he leans over and kisses you on the cheek. "You don't have to say it back." Then reaches over and blows out the candle. 

You rub your eyes dry and your cheek raw. 

[yuomizuu]

⋆.˚ ᰔ . to be with you, is to sit in autumn sunlight !

[ kazuha. ] — just a couple of random hcs that suddenly came to me! it has truly been a hot minute since my last post but regardless, hope you enjoy the zuha brain rot folks ^3^

w.c: 945

➴ kaedehara kazuha.

if there’s anything that kazuha enjoys doing—apart from writing poetry, resting upon a warm rock, or indulging himself in a bit of sake—it’s your presence.

whether it’s taking a leisure stroll through the streets of liyue together or simply listening you talk to your heart’s content, kazuha finds your company to be as pleasant as a gentle autumn breeze. when the alcor is buzzing with an endless revelry that continues on into the late hours of the night, kazuha will seek you out, quietly taking your hand and leading you elsewhere, away from the festivities to instead pursue a secret rendezvous of your own.

if he’s not particularly keen on leaving the ship, then he’ll steal a bottle of sake and two cups and instead bring you up to the ship’s nest, enjoying each other’s company as you both silently admire the rolling ocean waves across the horizon.

but it’s also important to remember that kazuha is someone who enjoys his own solitude from time to time as well. therefore, his most prominent forms of love languages would probably fall into words of affirmation. you recall the time beidou had referred to his manner of speaking as having flowers come out of his mouth instead of actual words and honestly, you would have to agree. countless times has this charming wanderer left you with nothing but a racing heart and a hue of rose tinted cheeks from just a few cherry-picked lines.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·♡·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“the sunlight is bright, the leaves are vibrant and yet, your eyes, your smile… when you look at me in this moment, the brilliance of flowers and daylight seem dull, as if i’m staring into the heart of a blooming star.”

“… kazuha!? where did that come from all of sudden??”

“hmm… just thinking of some lines to use in my next poem dove.”

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·♡·໒꒱ ────── · ·

kazuha will seldom chose to call/refer to you by your actual given name, not because he finds it awkward, but he simply prefers to use his own terms of endearments with you. the most frequent of which being ‘my love’ and ‘dove,’ however don’t be surprised if he suddenly throws in a new one into the mix. the times in which your name is spoken by his lips are the quietude moments beneath the viel of stars at night in which he recites poems to you in your honor or softly proclaims vows of forever being yours.

each time the young ronin prepares to set off on another journey, ready to follow wherever the winds take him, he leaves a token of himself with you. this token can end up being a variety of things: an item he procured on his previous travels, a simple flower or leaf ( though to him, they are anything but simple ), or even the red tassel on him with the ornamental maple leaf where his vision is tied to. whatever it is you end up receiving, it serves as a reminder that even though he may travel great distances, he will always return to you.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·♡·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“they do say that distance makes the heart grow fonder.. so you need not worry my love. a part of me will always be with you, but i can only be complete if i am by your side.”

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·♡·໒꒱ ────── · ·

as if the token itself weren’t enough, kazuha will undoubtedly continue to keep in touch with you via written letters. he does this special thing where depending on the nation he’s currently traveling in, he’ll pick a local plant speciality and seal it with wax to the envelope — a way of letting you know where he was in the world. sometimes he’ll simply muse to you about his travels, writing about all the wonderful sights he’s seen and is certain you would enjoy. on days when kazuha is missing you more so than usual, his letters will consist of haikus/poems centered around you or just going on a lover’s tangent about how much he adores you.

you also write to him, and of course, kazuha finds immense happiness each time he receives your letters. if he’s having a hard time falling asleep at night, he’ll read through your letters, hoping your words alone will manage to lull his restless mind to sleep ( and they do ). back home, he’ll fold them into origamis in order to preserve them and from that alone he’s able to recognize what letter of yours it was in and what you’d written in particular. ( beidou is constantly finding random origamis scattered around her ship sometimes www )

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·♡·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“hey [name], mind giving this to kazuha and reminding him not to misplace them around the ship unless he wants a drunken sailor stepping on them?”

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·♡·໒꒱ ────── · ·

when the time of your fateful reunion finally arrives, it feels akin to a homecoming for kazuha ( although he would argue that it is exactly that because well.. you are his home ). the moment he sets foot onto the familiar grounds of liyue, his eyes seek you out instantly, knowing that you would be waiting for him just like you always do. some days he’ll surprise you, silently walking up from behind and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck and planting a series of kisses — ones that are so gentle and feather-like, it felts as though a butterfly had landed there. slowly, they’ll trail up until he reaches your ears where he whispers to you his greeting and how happy he is to see you.

you can most definitely expect to be showered in all his love and attention for the next few days so hopefully you won’t find yourself tiring of him too quickly :)

[storiesfromafan]

Obsessed Pt 3

A/N: I am finally back with part 3!! I am sorry for my absence, as I mentioned in anther post, I had taken time off work and it was my birthday on the 11/7. So I took some me time, haha.

I hope this part is alright, I finished it not long ago, so sorry if its not edited properly. Please don't come at me for mistakes or anything, haha.

Also, the last week or so, I have been thinking of a new series for one of Austin Butler's characters; Benny from The Bikeriders. Lets just say Austin has me in a choke hold right now lol. After this post I will be putting up something I wrote for him. I am finally branching out in my writing, which is terrifying lol.

With that, please enjoy the next part of the Obsessed Series.

Part 1 & Part 2

What was he thinking sending you that poem? What possessed him to act on his thoughts? Mattheo questioned himself over and over, tired from lack of sleep from his mind trying to figure out what was going on. It was like he was on autopilot when he done it. Mattheo had thought about the words, which his hand had written down and then mindlessly sent the words to you.

What had you thought when you got the letter? Did you read it? Did you like the muggle poem? Or did you hate it? No, you would like that poem as he had seen you reading it numerous times. Were you interested in knowing who sent it to you? Did you know it was him? Or did you think it was someone else?

“Mattheo, pass the juice” Theodore’s voice brought the worried boy from his thoughts.

Blankly looking to his mate, Theodore gestured to the pitcher of juice. Finally putting two and two together, Mattheo grabbed the pitcher and passed it to the male sitting down from him with their hand out.

“You alright?” Theodore asked taking and pouring the juice into his cup. “You seem out of it”.

Straightening up in his seat, Mattheo nodded his head. “Yeah, all good”.

From the look Theodore shot him, he didn’t buy Mattheo’s words, but let him be. If Mattheo wanted to talk to him, he would when he was ready. Mattheo went back to sitting silently, pushing his food around his plate, taking a bite here and there. He didn’t have much of an appetite, as his stomach was in knots with worry.

Looking up from his plate, Mattheo looked across the room to the Ravenclaw table. From where he sat, he could just see you sitting with your friends. You were talking and laughing like nothing was a miss. Maybe you hadn’t opened the letter he sent. But that still didn’t put him at ease.

Once breakfast was done everyone began to make their way to classes. Both Theodore and Lorenzo had gotten up before Mattheo, Theodore clapping him on the back in passing. With a look to you, he saw you were getting up with your friends, that was when Mattheo got up too. He wanted to follow you, even if you had different classes. But you had left The Great Hall before he could catch up to you and your friends. So reluctantly he followed his two friends, and went to morning classes.

First up Mattheo had flying class with Gryffindor’s. It was a pretty normal lesson; a few students falling off their brooms, Malfoy’s snarky comments, Potter facing off with Malfoy. Just a typical Slytherin and Gryffindor class.

Walking back into the castle, Theodore and Mattheo were pushing each other and laughing while Lorenzo strolled behind them. Pushing Theodore into a passing group of girls Mattheo roared with laughter, his friend apologizing for his mates actions. He then took off after his friend, grabbing him in a headlock. A small battle between them ensued before their next Professor made herself known.

“That is enough Mr Knott and Mr Riddle!” Bellowed Professor McGonagall. “This a hallway, not a dueling area”.

Both boys separated at her words, standing beside each other with their hands behind their backs. Lorenzo stood behind McGonagall snickering at his friends, all the while the students in the halls watched on with curiosity. The Professor took to scolding both boys, much to the amusement of those watching. To finish it, McGonagall escorted both boys to her class, which only gained more stares and snickers from their passing peers.

Once entering the classroom; Mattheo, Theodore and Lorenzo made their way to seats in the back of the room. Lorenzo and Mattheo sat at the back row, while Theodore and other Slytherin student sat in front of them. Throughout the class Theodore turned back to make comments to his friends, or share drawings he did out of boredom. Only after McGonagall caught them, did they finally settle down and take her class more seriously.

Now left to himself, Mattheo's mind went back to you and the letter. His stomach churned at the questions surfacing again. His mind was all over the place. The usually calm, cool and collected Mattheo Riddle was a worried mess. Part of him didn’t care about sending you a muggle poem, while the other half was worried about it getting out to the students. It would look bad for his reputation.

When class finally wrapped up, the three Slytherin mate’s packed up their stuff before getting ready to head to lunch. Theodore was already off a head with the Slytherin he had been sitting with, deep in conversation. While Lorenzo and Mattheo followed a few meters behind.

“You alright mate?” Asked Lorenzo with concern. “You seem out of it”.

‘So, it’s obvious then’ Mattheo thought to himself. He gave his friend a half smile, “do I seem like somethings wrong?”

Lorenzo nodded. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Looking to Theodore, Mattheo called out that they’d catch up later. Theodore looked back, not thinking much of it, but called back he’d see them then. With that sorted, Mattheo dragged Lorenzo off to an empty corridor. Out of the two friends, he knew Lorenzo would be the one to give him less shit for what he did.

So, taking a deep breath Mattheo began to explain to his friend what was going on. Starting from a year ago when you helped him, how he thought about that moment and you. Then how every time he saw you, he studied you, noticing minor things about you or what you did. How he wanted to be around you. And finally, the poem he had sent you.

“I sent her a bloody muggle poem!” Mattheo said holding his head. “Now I can’t help but think a million questions that I probably wouldn’t get answers to! I was an idiot!”

Lorenzo, still processing what his mate had just shared with him, lent back against a pillar. Part of him was amused at the situation Mattheo was in, while the other half didn’t think he had it in him to catch feelings for one singular girl. All three of them were known for their rotation in girls, never staying with one more then a few weeks to a month. But here was Matthe Riddle, looking to finally have grown out of his Playboy ways.

Lorenzo smiled at his friend. “You look to have gotten yourself into quiet the situation, huh?”

Mattheo groaned. “No shit. What do I do?!”

Lorenzo pondered his friends words. “Honestly, I don’t know” – Mattheo groaned again – “but maybe wait and see if you get a letter back? Surely, she wouldn’t just leave you hanging, maybe she is trying to think of what to say?”

 Thinking over Lorenzo’s words, Mattheo slowly nodded standing up straight. “Maybe…maybe you’re right”.

Lorenzo nodded. “Yes, we will see if I am. But I have to say mate, this is a new side to you. How feminine of you” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Haha. Have a good laugh” he sulked, putting both hands in his pockets and pouting.

“All jokes aside, I am happy to know you fancy a girl whole heartedly” comment Lorenzo moving from the pillar.

The pair began to walk from their secluded space, and head to The Great Hall for lunch. No doubt by now Theodore would be wondering where they had gotten to. Mattheo smiled at his friend, feeling less stressed after finally confiding in someone about his mindless moment.

They were laughing and joking as they walked when a head of them, they heard a whooshing noise. It only got closer before a letter came hurtling to them, suddenly stopping before Mattheo’s face. Blinking a few times, realization kicked in and he grabbed the letter, in case if anyone had been near by could or had seen. He stuffed the letter in his pocket, while Lorenzo gave his friend a sly smile.

“I told you” was all he said shoving Mattheo’s shoulder.

Mattheo shook his head. “It might not be from her”.

“Then open it, dare you to” Lorenzo laughed.

Looking around, the hallway was empty, but he wouldn’t take the chance. “Not now. After classes” Mattheo replied.

With that decision made, which when Mattheo thought back on and decided was a stupid one, the two males made their way to The Great Hall for lunch. And now Mattheo’s appetite had returned a bit, well compared to breakfast it had returned. After that he managed to get through his afternoon class, but barely. The letter in his pocket felt hot, warming his skin, itching for him to read it.

Finally free the three Slytherin’s emerged from the castle into one of the few courtyards of the school. Theodore complained how the building had been so stuffy, and that they were missing out on a beautiful day outside. So, they decided to lounge around in the courtyard till dinner. Crossing the yard to a large tree that they usually hung out at, Mattheo was fidgety, wanting to open the letter and finally know its contents. Seeing how his friend was, Lorenzo nodded at him. And so, they both came up with an excuse – the ruse of meeting up with a Hufflepuff girl – to let Mattheo slip away.

Without a second thought Mattheo re-entered the castle, making haste to his dorm room. He didn’t know if it would be empty, but he’d find out as soon as he got there. Thankfully, upon entering he was relieved to find not a soul there. Dropping his bag by his bed, he pulled the letter from his pocket before sitting on his bed. Holding the envelope in both hands he noted the lack of a name on the front. What did he expect? His name? Yes, as many girls addressed their letters to him, but there were a few that kept it blank. Yet he had never signed his letter to you, so there would be no name on a letter. Turning it over he saw the wax seal, the last thing holding him from the contents and who the sender was.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Mattheo finally worked up the courage to break the seal. He sat there for a minute, as if rushing to get the letter out it would cause it to escape his grasp. Eventually he slowly pulled the letter out, before opening the parchment he took another breath and thinking to himself how silly he was being. It was just a letter. He gets them all the time from his fangirls. But if this was from you, it meant so much more.

Finally, he took the leap and unfolded the parchment. He was meant with a fair number of words, which read as such:

Dear Mystery Sender,

Thank you for the poem. I am glad to see there is someone else who knows of the muggle Lord Byron. Do tell, are you fond of his work? I can honestly say that poem you wrote would be my favorite of his.

Do you possibly have any other writers, poetry or anything, you enjoy? As I feel you know my enjoyment of literature, you could recommend something new for me to read.

Finally, if this was some kind of prank, please don’t bother to reply. I have entertained this for almost a day. I don’t like to be made the butt of someone’s joke.

Sincerely,

(Y/N) – don’t mess with me – (L/N) ❤

Mattheo stared at your letter, his brain slowly processing not only that you had wrote him but what you had written. You were messing with him, you thought he was pranking you. That was far from what he wanted to do. His intention was to show you, in a language you understood, how he thought about you. Cursing himself, Mattheo dropped the letter on the bed while hitting his head.

“Great” he sighed. “She thinks I’m fucking with her!”

Just then the dorm room opened, making Mattheo grab the letter and hide it under his leg. Lorenzo stuck his head into the room, upon seeing Mattheo rushed in and closed the door before crossing the room to his friend.

“So?! Is it from her!?” He asked in a hurry.

Mattheo would have laughed at Lorenzo if he hadn’t been in such a slump from reading your words. He nodded his head, to which Lorenzo pushed him further. Not knowing how to put it, Mattheo pulled out the now crumpled parchment before handing it over to his friend. Without wasting time, unlike Mattheo, Lorenzo read your words. Excitement dropping after reaching the last sentence of the letter.

Lorenzo dropped to sit at the end of Mattheo’s bed, placing the letter on the bed between them. “Well, that was not what I was expecting” he comments. “It started out promising, before crashing and burning”.

Mattheo half moaned and half groaned snatching the parchment up in hand. “I know! What am I going to do!?”

Silence settled between them, both thinking over the situation and possible solution. “Write her another letter, this time your own words would be best” Lorenzo stated, stressing ‘this’ and ‘time’.

“I figured as much” muttered Mattheo. “But do you think she will believe me? And not think it’s a prank?”

“Only one way to find out; write her. You won’t know if you don’t try mate” Lorenzo said, voice of reason.

Mattheo slowly nodded his head but decided to let this new revelation swim in his mind for a while. Opting to waiting till after dinner to construct a response to your letter. He didn’t want to rush a reply and make things worse. But to be fair, no matter what he reply’s with could go badly, as you might think it was still a stitch up.

Thinking Mattheo’s choice to wait to reply was a good idea, Lorenzo ushered his friend from his thoughts and their dorm, and to dinner. Before leaving Mattheo stashed the letter in his bag, silently hoping it would be safe and trying to think of a better hiding spot for future.

A/N: as always, let me know what you think and feel free to request :)

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Two: Place In Me

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Chapter 2: Place In Me

Note: Me: I don't know when I'll post chapter 2 maybe on the weekend but who knows. Also me: posts 3 hours after saying that. Once again I wanted to thank everyone for reading and interacting! I appreciate all of you so much. Not edited so be warned. I confused everyone with part 21 and this doesn't provide any answers! Just more context for other parts of the smau. Enjoy!

Warnings: none, bad writing, Rafe being mean, y/n being mean

Word Count: 3,371

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

She thought that she made herself clear and that they understood where she was coming from after her speech in the green room.

She’s not expecting Barry to be sitting on the couch of the tour bus she had chosen to sleep in, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead from her run, slightly out of breath. 

When she opens the door and sees him sitting there, she jumps.

“Fuck, Barry what the hell?” Barry had a very specific regime for show days. He should’ve been napping on the other bus.

“We can’t go on hiatus. You’re being selfish.” She feels her ears start burning, she scoffs at him. 

“Selfish? You better be kidding me. The audacity of you to come in here and accuse me of being selfish?”

“Y-” She doesn’t let him continue.

“I have put up with this bullshit for two years, Barry! Just because I’m tired and need a break doesn’t make me selfish.”

“If you would just talk to him.”

“No. Fuck you. No.”

“If you talk to him, and he explains himself, you’ll understand and this can all go back to normal.”

“No. I will not fix this. I don’t need to fix this.”

“What happened to be there for each other?”

“Barry. You and Topper were supposed to be there for me!” She snaps, her voice rising.

“You were the only people who knew exactly what I was going through not only with Rafe but with the fame and the drugs and the people wanting things from me. You were going through it too, I know you were. But you abandoned me the second Rafe decided to what? Get in a relationship? You threw me away, I was so alone!” 

Tears are threatening to spill over now. She hates how she can’t get angry without crying. 

“I went through everything by myself and the people I thought were my best friends abandoned me. I get it okay. You chose your boy. But I thought I meant something to you. I thought I was your friend. He broke my heart and my spirit.” She stops to catch her breath, “I was a shell of a person and you still didn’t even ask me if I was okay. In two years you haven't checked in.”

“y/n..”

“He told me he didn’t want to live without me and the next day I found out he was seeing Sofia. And suddenly I wasn’t his friend or his bandmate or even a person. I was just someone he fucked. And I don’t care why he said that. I don’t care if he meant it or not or if he was lost and scared. He still said it. I’m done. I’m done with him, I’m done with this Los Angeles, I’m done. I don’t owe him anything. I don’t need to talk to him.” She finishes her chest heaving. Barry is staring at her, eyes wide.

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay in the band. But it’s work. That’s all. We aren’t friends.” 

Barry’s silent. Still sitting on the bus couch. 

“Get out. Please.” 

+++

The early days of getting over Rafe were hard. She wanted to go back to who she was before him. The version of herself before she got involved with him. Journaling and writing song lyrics and poems could only do so much. Everyone told her that she needed someone else. She understood that but she didn’t feel like it. She wasn’t ready to get her heartbroken all over again. 

Not when she constantly got her heart broken on tour, not only when she saw Rafe making out with Sofia backstage but when Barry walked right by her without acknowledging her existence, or when Topper pretended not to hear her. Her heart cracked every time for the little girl who trusted these boys with her entire being and let them in only for them to stomp all over her. 

She spent endless nights on tour, alone in her hotel room crying at the top of her lungs and on the tour bus muffling the sound of her sobs with her pillow. So when people suggested she needed to meet someone to get over him, well, it didn’t sound like a good idea to just let someone else in to break her even more when they eventually left. 

It got better little by little, the heartache over her friends hating her. The heartbreak over Rafe choosing someone who wasn’t her, someone who was worth it. The loneliness never did. It was crippling how alone she felt. There were times when she wanted to go back to the drugs, drinking, and partying. She would feel so much better if she just couldn’t feel anymore. She didn’t go back on the promise that she made to herself. She would never be that afraid high out of her mind 17-year-old girl again. 

She isn’t sure if she gets over Rafe or if she learned to live with the pain. Sometimes she thinks she’s so angry at him and that’s the reason she doesn’t want him. She misses him all the time, she thinks she’ll miss him forever. At least who they were before they had sex and fucked it all up. 

She lets everyone know that when the time comes she’ll make them all aware. Cleo tells her that she better be the first one who finds out she’s seeing someone. She tells her that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The day she met him was one of the most ordinary days she had lived in her entire life. She had woken up in her Los Angeles apartment, made herself breakfast, gone for a swim and gotten ready for the day. She didn’t have anything planned for the day, maybe tidy up a little, call Sarah, and run some errands. The craving to make brownies hits her out of nowhere, she doesn’t have any of the ingredients at her house though, the life of a touring artist. 

She’s leaving the grocery store with her reusable bags filled to the brim with all her cravings. She’s digging in her tiny pink purse that can’t hold anything for her keys when she drops two of her bags. 

She doesn’t want to get angry when she sees everything fall, she stares at it for a second, takes a deep breath and moves to pick it up. Once she gets everything together and packed up in her car, she decides that she needs a little treat for putting up with her groceries falling.

Her favorite pastry spot in LA is right by a hotel where all the celebrities who don’t live in the city full time. It’s usually a curse because everyone is hanging out or camping outside the hotel for a small glimpse of someone famous.

She thanks Caroline, the bakery owner and steps out of the store without looking at where she’s going. She feels herself collide into something strong and hard. Someone. Her pastries shake in the box. Of course, this would happen too. Why can’t she just keep herself from dropping her food today?

“I am so sorry.” She says to the man standing in front of her. He’s pretty, she thinks. Dark brown hair, almost black, brown eyes that look very familiar, and strong, and his arms are bulging where his black shirt sleeve ends. He’s hot. 

“Don’t worry, you’re fine.” She hears his friend behind say something in a different language and the man in front of her shakes his head and smiles at her. 

“Are they making fun of me for being a klutz?” He laughs. 

“No, they think it’s funny that I would run into my celebrity crush. Literally.” Any other time, if someone confessed that she was their celebrity crush, she would run so far so fast. Something keeps her there, smiling like an idiot, at a loss for words. She says the first thing that pops into her head.

“Have we met? You look familiar.” She feels like she’s seen him somewhere but she can’t place him. 

“Mira que te ha visto a través de la ventana.” one of his friends says, he shushes him not even turning to look. 

“I’m an actor?” He says it like a question, his cheeks flush, and he’s embarrassed. It’s endearing. 

“Yeah? Have I seen anything you’ve been in?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“So as your celebrity crush, it seems that I have a responsibility to watch whatever you’ve been in, don't you think?”

“No way.” He smiles at his friends doing a quiet chant of something behind him.

“No? Not even if you join me and walk me through it?” She knows she’s giving him eyes now, looking at him through her eyelashes, fluttering her eyelids a little too much. Her resolve is gone, she doesn’t know where her confidence is coming from and she’s going to use it until it’s gone. 

“We could arrange that,” he pauses, “Julio.” He extends his hand out for her to shake. 

“Y/N.” and maybe when she takes his hand she feels a shock run up her arm. 

Maybe she’s being dramatic and jumping the gun but what if everything she’s been through led her to this moment? Right here with him. 

+++

When Rafe finds out Y/N is seeing someone he tries not to lose it. He knows he has no right. His palms start sweating. He feels his breath shorten, he’s honestly a mess though he doesn’t show it. 

At least not until Topper pushes him on the subject when they’re left alone. 

“She’s seeing someone.” The room is eerily quiet, they’re in the studio recording their second album. Y/N had gone off to probably call her boyfriend and Barry was off doing who knows who.

“Yeah.” He’s short with his answer, scrolling on his phone to distract himself from the ever-intrusive thoughts of her her her. 

“You good?” No. No, of course he’s not good.

“I have Sofia.” Topper clears his throat and continues his torture on him. 

“Doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Yeah.” He looks over at Topper, his eyebrows lifting in acknowledgement.

They stay quiet for a few more minutes, the questions and thoughts and everything eating at him.

“Who’s the guy?” The question forces its way out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to know anything about the man that holds her heart.

“Some actor,” Topper responds nonchalantly, looking at him like he’s going to blow up if he moves anymore.

“Cool.” He wants to claw his heart out. What the fuck is happening to him right now.

“Rafe.” Topper isn’t convinced that it’s cool at all. Because Rafe can lie to everyone in his life but not Topper.

“No yeah, that’s cool. It’s great, yeah, good for her.” He knows he still doesn’t sound convincing.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Let her be happy.” He’s going to be mature about this. He asked Sofia to marry him last year for god sake. If he gets to be happy, she does too. Is he happy?

“Rafe.” Fucking Topper and his questions.

“I’ve fucked her life up enough. She deserves this. Deserves someone.” It spills out of him again, his eyes meeting with Topper’s, begging him to stop. 

“Do you ever miss her?” Topper’s not showing him any mercy today, wanting to know everything he’s kept inside for the past two years.

“More than anything.”

“You fucked up” understatement of his life. He ruined her and in turn, ruined himself. He was stupid and selfish and he deserved the worst.

“Yeah.”

+++

“You have to apologize to her.” Rafe’s once again fiddling with his guitar. The arena is empty except for the techs playing with lightingThe stage had been set up the night before. Y/N was with Sarah exploring the city before she had to be back for soundcheck. Barry was taking a nap and Topper was being a pain in his ass. He tweeted some bullshit at him and Rafe had called him back to talk.

“I don’t have to do anything, she’s leaving.”

“Yeah because of you. Because of what you did to her.”

“I seem to remember that you were included in isolating her.”

“That only happened because she was so hurt she pushed everyone away and I thought I would make it worse by forcing her to talk. Anyway, that’s between y/n and I. You need to take responsibility, Rafe.”

“For what? It wasn’t my fault I didn’t love her.”

“Oh fuck off Rafe. You loved her. You were just scared.”

“Of course I was scared! It could’ve ruined everything. The band, our careers.”

“You shouldn’t have ever gotten involved.”

“I couldn’t help it!” He closes his eyes, doing the breathing exercises they taught him in rehab, in therapy. 

“Please, just talk to her.” 

“She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“You have to try!’

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Because I’m engaged. I’m with Sofia and I’m happy and if,” he breathes “if y/n were to even give me the slightest greenlight I would burn my whole relationship to the ground. Her whole relationship.” He says the last part under his breath, hoping Topper doesn’t hear it.

“What the fuck, Rafe?”

“I know.”

“Why now?”

“I did and said some shit back then to not fuck up the band. It was wrong, stupid and childish. It’s not a question of ‘why now,’ I never stopped.”

“You still love her.” Rafe doesn’t confirm or deny it. Topper shakes his head. 

“You need to apologize.” Topper leaves Rafe to strum his guitar in thought. 

+++

Everything changes when he comes into her life. It’s like she was living in this deep black hole of anger, sadness, and endless turmoil. He’s her calm. He grounds her and she feels like she can finally breathe. She hasn’t felt wanted in such a long time and even though they are long distance most of the time between his film schedule and her tours, she has never felt alone since meeting him. 

She has a video from him every time she wakes up in the morning. Sometimes it’s just him telling her something that happened to him during the day, or a funny story, and sometimes he sings. She wishes she could drop an album just to feature him on it. She wants the entire world to know that he’s hers and she’s his and she is so incredibly in love. 

It’s scary going from such a low to such a high. The extreme contrast is intimidating at times but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She learned what she wanted in a relationship from an extremely difficult situation and somehow it was all worth it as long as she got to have him in her life. 

They’re together for a year before it gets out. They chose to be private about their relationship, it’s easy when he’s halfway across the world most of the time. That doesn’t stop her from spending every single moment that she isn’t on tour or in the studio next to him in Spain, Italy, France. She loves him. She would do anything for him. She knew that he was the one three weeks into their relationship and when she told him and he told her he felt the same, it confirmed it.

It’s her fault it gets out, he said it was about time and he wasn’t mad about it at all. 

Sometimes she still finds that deep-seated anger she holds for Rafe bubbling over. It’s all-consuming and she can’t stop the venom that leaves her body.

When Rafe’s engagement gets out, she and Julio step out on a date night. Cleo calls the paparazzi for her. It’s a great plan until everyone is freaking out because they’re convinced she and Rafe were dating this entire time.

She loves her fans but sometimes the theories and threads get a little too much. Mostly because they’re correct most of the time. 

At first, she was scared of Julio seeing all those things and seeing how everyone wanted her and Rafe to get married. She was scared he was going to run away. It never seemed to faze him. He never not once doubted her. He understands how people get and believes her when she tells him she chooses him for the rest of forever.

+++

Topper’s words haunt him. He wants to apologize to her and give her and himself some form of closure. He doesn’t know how to approach it. They haven’t talked in years, not really. How does he talk to the person that he hurt so much?

He catches her after soundcheck one day, his wringing his hands together, riddled with anxiety. 

“Hey, Y/N?” He calls out after her as she passes him.

She slowly turns around and crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows at him in surprise. 

“What can I do for you?”

He gulps as she looks at him expectantly.

“I was wondering if you had listened to the album?” What? Why the hell did he open with that?

“Why would I listen to the album?” She asks incredulously 

“Well, because I mean it’s about,” he stumbles over his words, “I just wish you would listen to it and maybe hear me out.”

“You want me to listen to your album so that I can hear you?” She nods her head and puckers her lips. 

 “It’s so stupid that after all these years you can’t apologize to my face so you what? Make an album? Is your apology hidden in there somewhere?” 

“Yes-No, I just think that if you gave it a chance, we could talk about it.”

“You want me to pretend to give a shit about your album when you can’t tell me how you feel right now in person?” She’s laughing a little now. Shocked at his suggestion. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Please, can you just listen?” 

“No Rafe. I am so done with this. I have been done with this. I don’t care about your album, I don't care about you.” Her words hit him like knives in his heart.

“Why do you care about my opinion about your album? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know that your album is about me? You called it Angel, Rafe! The fucking nickname that you gave me when we were 12 years old! I’m not some dumb girl who you can just manipulate and get whatever you want out of her. Not anymore. I am not that person for you.” She stops, her hands coming down from where she was waving them. He wants to say something but his mouth is dry and he has a ball the size of a grapefruit stuck in his throat.

“You made it incredibly clear to me that you don’t think of me as a person. Like- what did you say to me? That I’m just a fuck?” He grimaces when she throws his words from three years ago back at him. 

“Yeah, you said I’m just some girl you fuck, ‘you’re just some girl I fuck I don’t care about you.’ Sound about right?” He can’t move. He’s frozen.

“You could have worded it a million different ways and still gotten your message across. You could have been so much nicer. Let me down easy. Let me know in a better way that you found someone that you wanted to get to know. I would’ve put everything aside and just been your friend but no, you decided that I meant nothing to you, that everything we had been through, everything we had built, Our friendship was not important to you.”

 “Because I’m just someone you fucked. So, Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my opinion because you’re just someone I fucked too and someone that I no longer care about. You are just my bandmate. You are just a coworker, I don’t think of you. I’m done with you. Keep your album. Good luck.”

He was so fucked. It would be a miracle if he ever got her to forgive him.

[idcallmyselfhuman]

XiaoAether Masterlist 👹⛅

Edit: version 2.0 here

Or, every XiaoAether moment that I can remember (and an attempt to organize them)

Starting this off with the one scene that made us all go "wait a fucking minute" at the very start of the game,

Battle of Osial

Aether's feet were already steadied. Xiao could've let go, or let him fall as gracefully as Mountain Shaper did to that guard (I would've hated him forever) but considering that he insists that being near mortals is such a biiiig no-no, he could have, but he didn't. No, even more, he fucking tightened his hold.

-

Teyvat Food Notes (Sweet Dream, Adeptus' Temptation and Satisfying Salad)

Next! The promotionals during Xiao's release as a playable character. Specifically, Teyvat Food Notes. To celebrate his release, they made an Almond Tofu + Sweet Dream Food blog.

Note: Both google translate and Papago seem to use Mandrill instead of Xiao, so... just know that's who it's talking about.

This is where we learn that Xiao didn't even make "Sweet Dream"; this dish was Aether's thank you gift to him. Xiao's specialty dish is a gift from Aether. I'm- agh. ANYWAY.

We actually also see Sweet Dream in Childe's birthday art. And I'm really sorry to Tartaglia but seeing it stole all his thunder. I could not get over it.

I like to think Aether was so busy making Childe food that he absentmindedly started preparing Almond Tofu in the way he's used to (because of how often Xiao requests it :'> ).

Just when I thought that was it for the Teyvat Food Notes and I could've moved on, I found this in the Adeptus' Temptation food note; the one they made for the first Lantern Rite.

Note: "Fairy/Buddha Jump over the Wall" is apparently an actual Chinese delicacy that the Adeptus' Temptation is based on!

I found this part really cute, especially right now because of the poetry event. Since the beginning, Aether's always known that Xiao was capable of being poetic, it just took them being close and his encouragement for Xiao to actually make a poem.

Lastly, Aether's Satisfying Salad. This isn't connected to the food blog this time (since that one's for Mona), but rather, this and Almond Tofu are the first dishes Aether has ever given Xiao in the game. I included this despite it being pretty minor because in Moonlight Merriment, Smiley Yanxiao actually brings this up again.

Smiley Yanxiao: The boss told me to take care of him, but this guy, let me tell you - he is one tough nut to crack. He usually turns his nose up at everything that isn't Almond Tofu.

Xiao willingly ate something that wasn't Almond Tofu because... because what, it was given to him by a cute blonde traveler? The jury's still out on that one.

-

Lantern Rite 1.3, Baizhu Story Quest

I'm sure we're already familiar with this scene, right?

The very first time Xiao promised Aether that no matter what, as long as he calls his name, he'll be there. Right after that was Moonlight Merriment, where the game literally specifies that Xiao made that promise just for Aether. Way to make your commitment subtle.

Ah, Xiao, you're so easy... Of course, this wouldn't be the last time that Aether calls for him and Xiao arrives immediately. This also happened during Baizhu's story quest to, yet again, the astonishment of everyone around excluding these two. (Xiao's dedication is one of a kind)

Xiao worries over Aether often, despite knowing that they're both formidable in their own right. I also think it's sweet how every time they meet, Xiao's departing words are always a reminder to call for him whenever needed, to the point where there are times that Aether just goes "Yeah, we know." before he can even finish the sentence.

Unfortunately, though, there is one time where Xiao failed to reach Aether when he called him, but only because he physically wasn't able to.

-

Perilous Trail (Interlude)

The only thing that prevented this man from getting to Aether like always was being in a different plane of existence. Romeo and Juliet wish they were this romantic istfg

Aether: Come find us.

Xiao: No.

Yanfei: But Aether's in trouble!

Xiao: How do we meet?

Now where else did someone pull this tactic recently-

...Again, XIAO YOU ARE SO EASY. But anyway, back to the Chasm bc I wasn't quite done with that-

As soon as Yanfei tells Aether that Xiao is awake, Ae comes running. Just full on "stop saying you're fine i'll be the judge of that"

And he looks so angry when Xiao brings up writing a will. augguh they are sooooo- (i would put a reaction pic here if i didn't have an IMAGE LIMIT fuck tumblr bro)

To finish off the Chasm Interlude on a more serious note, this entire conversation was really touching, and I love seeing the progress these two have made over the years. Xiao letting himself open up with Aether's help year by year is one of my favorite things about this game.

-

Teapot and Character Voice Lines + Birthday Letters

For the first and second Lantern Rite, Xiao was still adamant on not even stepping foot in Liyue Harbor, declining every invitation to go there because of how much he disliked being near mortals.

Yet in his teapot voicelines, once you reach a high enough friendship with him, Xiao actually takes the initiative to invite Aether to go to the city, if only to understand him better. Xiao explicitly says that his willingness to go to the harbor was for him.

More About Xiao I: I'm willing to protect you.But don't think about getting close, and stay out of my way, or all that awaits you is regret.

More About Xiao V: It's too late. The connection between us is too strong. Even if you wanted to, it's too late to sever it. Hm? You've never thought to sever it?

About Shenhe: It seems Shenhe places a great deal of trust in you. Well, how could she not. There are few people in the world as kind and good-natured as you.

Shenhe, About Xiao: My first impression of him was that he's not one to smile. After meeting him again more recently, however, he's still as reserved as ever, but… he seems a lot more relaxed now. Maybe he… met someone special.

That line by Shenhe made me happy. Aether's effect on Xiao benefitted not only him, but the people surrounding Xiao as well. We even see that in his birthday letters, where at the most recent one, he follows Ae's advice and goes to spend time with old friends.

They're also all just insanely romantic, I feel like that goes without saying. Every year, I wonder how Genshin would possibly top the one before it that isn't just an explicit confession of undying love.

-

Lantern Rite '23

I'm here to remind you all of a beautiful scene that should never be forgotten for years to come.

Regardless of Genshin trying to be mysterious and making us guess who saved Aether, the fact that they both came rushing over is incredible on its own. They know that Aether isn't a damsel in distress, and Paimon's acting was so on the nose, but they still couldn't allow even the slightest possibility of harm to come to him.

Xiao looking away and talking in circles just to say he really was worried is the funniest fucking thing.

For the Lantern Rite event itself, if you've read this far in, you're probably already familiar. I really wish there wasn't an image limit because I have so many screenshots I want to put in here. If you want a refresher, watch this and start around the 2-hour mark

I wanted to put my own video in the post but you can only put one :/// I'm fist fighting whoever put these limits. 1 video file and 30 images? who are you

BACK TO THE TOPIC

There really isn't much I could say that I haven't already said before. For XiaoAether shippers, this was hoyo spoonfeeding content on a silver spoon. It's Aether and Xiao at their most comfortable with each other, talking and spending time with the people they care about. It's Aether fulfilling his end of the bargain of bailing Xiao out of uncomfortable social situations, because if you haven't noticed throughout all of these examples (or even outside of that), Aether is so perceptive when it comes to the comfort of the people around him.

This was also the event where we find out that for Xiao, the most distinguished guest in his eyes was Aether (Even though Ae thought he was going to say Zhongli..)

I have a lot of love for this event. But since this isn't just a lantern rite post, I'll move on.

-

Waterborne Poetry

The catalyst for this post. The reminder of how lovely this ship is, and how far these two have come.

As we have all learned from Xiangling, Yanfei, Venti and Hu Tao, you only need to mention Aether's name to convince Xiao of whatever it is you're planning. The part where Aether and Team Chongyun were trying to convince him to come with them and touch some fucking grass was really cute.

This event and the previous Lantern Rite also had Aether and Xiao talking privately, only to get interrupted by Paimon/Xiangling (as well as calling them out lmao)

And, of course, the scene that everyone freaked out over,

This. I don't think I'll ever get over this.

The fact that they had Zach voice this- A short, but sweet moment where Aether looks at Xiao from afar and immediately gets inspired, performing a poem where the real meaning is shared only between the two of them...

And Xiao's smile.

An expression that Aether had done so well to bring out.

2023 was the year of XiaoAether. Thank you, Hoyo.

-

Done! I HAVE SO MANY SCREENSHOTS AND I COULDN'T EVEN USE MOST OF THEM ToT. I actually had clips that I edited but Tumblr said no. Good thing there's YouTube.

Another reason as to why I made this was because some shippers said that XiaoAe didn't make sense because it lacked depth and I was so affronted by it that I did all this out of spite (and love for these characters. mostly love.)

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for October 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Impactful by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Having “packs” sort of belonged to the past, but it wasn’t entirely unheard of to move in with a bunch of friends as adults. It was practical in many ways: there would almost always be somebody home to receive packages, they could divvy up the house work and share living costs, they would always have friends around and if any of them had children, their aunties and uncles could look after them!

So. It wasn’t unheard of. But it was definitely a thing they would be called hippies for. In fact, almost all of them had already been called hippies and weirdos for it.

＊ Travel Blog Entry #28 by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou [G, 89 words, Harry/Louis]

Harry and Louis return home from a holiday. The last post on their travel blog is this poem.

＊ Hold Me Like A Grudge by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou [G, 890 words, Louis/Harry]

You can press your lips to someone’s skin and know this is the last time.

＊ And Now I'm Falling For You by @enchantedlandcoffee [T, 711 words, Harry/Louis]

“What did you do?!” Louis exclaimed as he waded out of the water, Harry hot on his heels. “I tried to save you! You know, this is the part where you tell me I’m your hero, and then you-” “And then I what, Styles? Shower you with kisses? Get a freaking grip, Harry. We’re not in one of your ‘old-school musicals’ with cheesy background music and full on choreographed dancing! This is reality and you just ruined my chances of riding one of the biggest waves the town had ever seen!” “Well, I’m sorry for not wanting to watch my best friend drown because he was too stubborn to admit that the bloody sea was too dangerous for him to surf in.” “That’s not what was happening and you know it.”

OR Snapshots of A Teen Beach Movie Larry AU with a twist

＊ I regret you all the time by @disgruntledkittenface [E, 3k, Louis/William Prince of Wales]

Louis’ friends don’t understand, and they wouldn’t even if he explained. But every time William texts, Louis drops everything to go see him.

＊ I'm the Big Fish by @lululawrence [NR, 5k, Louis/Pedro Pascal]

Pedro laughed with the man in front of him who… oh god. Was that Oscar Isaac? Louis wasn’t going to survive if he was left in this room with those two for long. He should probably make his exit, except then Pedro started doing some sort of freestyle it looked like while Oscar cheered him on. Louis couldn’t help but chuckle and was trying to hide his smile as he watched on when Pedro turned and looked directly at Louis, freezing when he did so.

After an awkward moment at a party he wasn't actually invited to, Louis keeps running into the incredibly attractive Pedro Pascal. Somehow, it's Pedro who manages to keep making a fool of himself, causing Louis to grow increasingly more confused at his behavior while also feeling more drawn to him. Maybe someday they'll be able to manage a moment that doesn't end in one of them feeling the need to run from the room in order to escape the other.

＊ Glammer, Top Hats, Cigars and Suits by @rockstarlwt28 [NR, 3k, Louis/Dominic Harrison | Yungblud]

Based in the 1920s - Alternate Universe.

When Isla found a love for the melody formed by a strumming of strings, Louis didn't expect to fall equally in love with his daughter’s guitar teacher, Dominic Harrison.

＊ Bouncing off the Wall by @signofcomfort [G, 34k, Louis/Harry]

Harry Styles is Louis' self-declared enemy, but it doesn't help that they are neighbours and their families are friends.

＊ Spirits by itsraininginengland / @ilovellama14 [E, 4k, Louis/Oscar Isaac]

A one shot set in and Edwardian music hall. Prompt from and written for the Louis rarepair fest. This was a challenge and a pleasure to write.

Edwardian music hall performer Louis Tomlinson meets the newest act in the show, the American magician Oscar Isaac. Romance, smut and a seance ensue. Also featuring best friend wing man Harry Styles.

＊ That's Happiness To Me by @louislittletomlintum [E, 24k, Zayn/Liam/Louis]

“Seems we’ve got a little conundrum on our hands,” Louis murmured into Zayn’s ear, feeling his hands settle back on his waist and pressing a little closer.

“Mm. Seems we do,” Zayn responded, and Louis liked to think his voice was at least a bit intrigued.

Louis’ mind was whirring. He’d wanted to try and get with Liam tonight, but now a new, better idea was forming. Getting Liam with Zayn, if possible, would be something of a dream come true. It would maybe blow Liam’s tiny brain, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices for good things to happen.

“Do you wanna try pull him together?” Louis asked Zayn curiously, grinning against his skin when he felt his hands grip tighter.

＊ It’s a Craving Not a Crush by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 9k, Liam/Louis]

All around him, his coworkers have started pulling out their chosen lunches. And Liam does the same, reaching down to the backpack at his feet and pulling out the Tupperware of leftover spaghetti he’d packed this morning.

When he sets it on the table he notices a little neon pink post it note on the lid that he didn’t remember being there before. Written on the note in messy scrawl it says: Have a wonderful day husband! Can’t wait to suck you off when you get home!! XOXO -Lou.

Liam feels his face go bright red again as he hastily rips off the note and crumples it in his fist. He glances around the table, but thankfully no one seems to be paying him any attention. They’re all wrapped up in their own food items or listening to whatever their boss is talking about.

(Or the one where Liam and Louis are best bros who end up getting married so that Liam has the insurance he needs to go to rehab. Now that he’s sober, they can get divorced. But do they want to?)

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