#the pining and yearning
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first base is wound tending second base is hand touching
#third base is marriage#this is abt calabby but applies to all ships i hope this helps <3#humor#ship dynamics#this has been a shitpost#windy#walker independence#im not being silly im not being funny it doesn't get nore romantic than this <3#its abt the tenderness and unresolved tension#also the yearning pining longing etc#anyway tropes that make me insane every time <3#1k#im being diagnosed as ace in the notes....interesting#im sorry but it doesn't get more tender and romantic and intimate than this#10k
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"Imagine liking trans boys." On it boss đŁđŁđŁ You bet your ass I'mma love the hell outta them đŞđŞđŞâď¸âď¸âď¸đ¤đ¤đ¤
#mlm thoughts#mlm longing#mlm love#mlm pining#mlm post#mlm pride#mlm positivity#mlm and nblm#mlm yearning#nblm longing#nblm love#nblm pining#nblm yearning#nblm post#nblm pride#nblm positivity#t4t mlm#bi mlm#bi yearning#bi pining#bi posting#bi panic#bi positivity#bi pride#bi butch#butch4brat#butch4butch#masc4masc#t4t yearning#queer shenanigans and all that
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its called a happy trail bc i combust with joy when i see one
#tagged as mlm but any1 can reblog :)#mlm yearning#mlm pining#mlm post#gayposting#gay posting#trans mlm
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fatima aamer bilal, from moony moonless skyâs âi am your mould, but the shape of you is true absence, leaving me purposeless.â
[text id: and is this not treason? / my soul belongs far more to you than it does to me.]
#fatima aamer bilal#i am your mould but the shape of you is true absence leaving me purposeless#poetry#literature#yearning#longing#unrequited pining#book quotations#poem#prose#poeticstories#art#dark academia#love#typography#book qoute#poetry collection#bts#franz kafka#sylvia plath#lana del rey#pheobe bridgers#hozier#anne brontĂŤ#words words words#fiction#fantasy#web weaving#jane austen#mahmoud darwish
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Thought Fiddlestan was a purely comedic ship for a while but now I get it, I see the light. Itâs about a man who nurtures and cares for others to the point of heartbreak meeting a man who doesnât remember what itâs like for anyone to care about him. Itâs about them being warm together around the absence of someone they both love. Itâs about Fiddlefordâs innate domesticity comforting a man whose deepest desire was to come home. Itâs about falling in love with the same face again but in a new context that heals your past trauma. Itâs about Stanâs unbridled affection finally validating someone who desperately needed the recognition. Itâs also about very funny old man yaoi.
#it also completely works in canon if it ends poorly and they both get their memories wiped which is maybe the funniest part#stan my man you do not remember being El Gee Bee Tee but you know who else doesnât remember? The junkyard hillbilly.#plus the yearning on both ends and the way it also makes sense for Fids to help Stan get the gears rolling on portal fixing#at its best it ends in a future where neither of them are as self destructive as in canon#and at its worst everything proceeds like normal#Fids starts a cult cause he got traumatized by the same damn face TWICE I would go insane too tbh#gravity falls#fiddlestan#fiddleford mcgucket#stanley pines
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I can't believe I decided to read orv on a whim because I just wanted a good manhwa with no romance subplot and here I am knees deep into the novel questioning my whole life because whatever these mfs have got going on is much more nastier and visceral than any romance.
#so much pining and aroaceness it just loops around into the irresistibility and the kind of devotion you see in knights from a period drama#âI shall forever rue the day I lay mine eyes on thy sunlit visage so just this once allow me bask in thy mercy like a sinnerâ type of shit#being so obsessed w someone to the point where the yearning gnaws at your insides#is infact THE quintessential part of the homoerotic experience#ig it's clear that i lose my mind reading this novel#which is both good and concerning at the same time#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint
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A growing resource addressing LGBTQIA+ daters' most pressing questions.
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fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless skyâs âi am an observer, but not by choice.â
[text id: i have the everlasting tendency to ruin everything i love.]
#fatima aamer bilal#i am an observer but not by choice#moony moonless sky#poetry#self loathing#yearning#longing#pining#poeticstories#dark poetry#book quotations#literature#lit#dark academia#typography#web weaving#web weave#art#franz kafka#lana del rey#mitski#hozier#mahmoud darwish#poetry collection#words words words#parent issues#childhood#love#books#writings
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fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless skyâs my body is a slaughterhouse.
[image credit: pinterest]
#poetry#moony moonless sky#fatima aamer bilal#literature#poeticstories#art#book quotations#yearning#longing#pining#unrequited poem#poetry collection#words words words#typography#web weaving#dark academia#prose#self loathing#parent issues#bts#franz kafka#sylvia plath#lana del rey#mitski#hozier#mahmoud darwish#fiction#fantasy#pheobe bridgers#self deprecation
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wrong number
Ghost receives a text that leaves him absolutely reeling. OR the guy that you texted on accident is weirdly flirtatious and you're kind of into it?
1.1k words. lieutenant!Ghost x chef!reader (f). readerâs age unclear but 18+ (not a minor!!). divider by @plutism.
Unknown: SOS!!!!
Ghost immediately goes deathly still, eyes zeroing in on the text message notification that blinks across his phone before disappearing.
Having a SAS issued phone means that his phone number should be impossible to find. He doesnât receive spam texts or calls and the few people who have his number know better than to bother him when heâs on paperwork duty. Which means that something is not right.
His phone buzzes again, and he feels his gut churn sourly.
Unknown: (1 attachment)
He doesnât have time to think, he just braces himself for the worst. A photo of Johnny bleeding out with a gunshot wound? Coordinates to a location where Gaz is being held hostage?Â
Heâs already reaching for his kit in case he needs to jump on a helo when the attachment, an image, finally opens up.
The breath that was suspended in his chest slowly releases like a deflated balloon as he tries to make sense of the carnage on his phone screen. Yet, it isnât one of his squadmates thatâs crying out for help. Rather, itâs an image of a Cornish hen thatâs been burnt to an absolute charred crisp.Â
His mind is racing at a speed that he canât quite process, his eyes methodically scanning the photo for any clues or hidden messages in the image.Â
Yet, even to his trained eye, the image is perfectly normal. The background of the photo is a standard flat kitchen, slightly disorganized with cooking materials and ingredients scattered about. Your feet are visible in the corner of the photo, youâre wearing a pair of girly pajama shorts and bunny slippers.
His brows scrunch together in confusion, thoroughly perplexed and slightly annoyed at the mental gymnastics that he is undertaking to try to make sense of these messages.
Ghost: Who are you?
Your reply is instant, confirming his suspicion that you have truly somehow managed to message him by accident.
Unknown: Itâs (âĽď¸), your classmate from culinary school!
Ghost glances at the image again, brows scrunching in disbelief that you are training to become a chef considering the charred and blackened state of the bird.
Ghost: Wrong number.
Unknown: Ah, how embarrassing. So sorry to disturb you! I must have jotted down my classmateâs number incorrectly during class. Have a lovely rest of your evening!Â
Thatâs that then.
He sighs and sets his phone on his worn desk, glancing back at the mountain of paperwork that awaits him. Heâs several hours away from finishing up, and Price will absolutely have his head if doesn't get it all done.
Yet, for reasons he isn't willing to unpack, the image of your bare legs tucked into those ridiculously fuzzy bunny slippers lingers in the back of his mind. His fist twitches, annoyed with himself for getting so hot and bothered over a mere glimpse of bare ankle.
Youâre just another nameless, faceless muppet in the void of the digital age. Even responding back to your text message is probably a breach of security protocol that could land him in another hour long cybersecurity training seminar if he isn't careful.
So Ghost isnât sure why he bothers picking up his phone and typing a message at all, but his thumb hits send before he can ponder it any further.
Ghost: Chicken seems a bit burnt.
Being the asshole that he is, Ghost canât help but chuckle wryly at his own joke. He figures youâll probably ignore his message. Maybe youâll even take offence to it and block his number. So when his phone instantly buzzes with a response, his interest is fully captured.
Unknown: You think? I worried it might be a bit underdone.
The corner of his mouth twitches upward beneath his mask.
Ghost: I could be wrong. Youâre the chef after all.
Unknown: Well, thereâs plenty to go around if you fancy charcoals and mash.
He's fully smiling now, embarrassingly chuffed that you're playing along.
Ghost: You asking me on a date?
Unknown: Depends. Are you a serial killer?
Ghost: Depends on your definition of a serial killer.
Itâs silent after that and Ghost canât help the kernel of disappointment that takes root in his chest. Easygoing banter is far and few between for the lieutenant who has spent the last 48 hours trying to make sense of the mountain of paperwork that piled up on his desk during his last mission. He was enjoying this exchange with you far more than he cares to admit, and several minutes pass with no response before he glumly locks his phone and returns his attention to his desk.
A full day passes and Ghost accepts that he has scared you off.
Yet he canât blame you. He knows full well that there are loads of creeps and nut jobs on the Internet who could take advantage of you. And even so, youâd be better off messaging any one of those weirdos rather than him. Because, after all, heâs ... who he is.
Three days later, Ghost is seven kilometers into his evening jog around the training field when his phone buzzes again unexpectedly. His eye twitches but he doesnât check it right away, chiding himself for the persistent flare of hope in his gut that refuses to be extinguished. Heâs been pathetically rushing to his phone with every notification he receives since your last text message came through and feeling disappointed every time it isnât you.
Itâs only when his phone buzzes again that he decides to bite the bullet and check who's texting him.
Heâs fully expecting it to be another stupid meme from Soap in the 141 group chat. Which is why he skids to a stop, heart suddenly pounding in his chest, at the sight of a message from your phone number (which he has memorized at this point).
Itâs his trigger finger that flies to open your message, eyes fixed intensely, almost nervously, on the pixelated screen of his outdated phone.
Youâve sent him a photo of a sausage roll, a proper sausage roll, thatâs cooling on a wire rack in your kitchen. He's already salivating at the sight of the juicy blend of ground meat packed neatly and precisely into a flaky case of golden pastry, as well as the sliver of your bare thigh that's showing in the edge of the photo.
He assumes that youâve accidentally messaged him again instead of your classmate until he sees the message beneath the image.
Unknown: Just wanted you to know that Iâve been testing some other recipes for our date.Â
Unknown: Thoughts on my sausage rolls?
Ghost doesnât even realize that heâs grinning like a madman until his face starts to twitch uncomfortably. He hasnât smiled so hard in months, maybe even years, and the mechanics of beaming like a lovesick idiot have almost been forgotten by his stiff facial muscles.
He responds immediately, almost afraid that you might slip through his gloved fingers again if he is even a second too late.
Ghost: Thatâll do.
(thoughts on part 2 from reader pov? i want them to talk on the phone and see ghost be all cute n awkward TT)
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#ghost fluff#pining!ghost#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#its about the YEARNING
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i wouldnât change a single thing about you. every part of you was made for me to love
#crushcore#lovecore#crush suggestion#love suggestion#romantic suggestion#soft suggestion#yearning#pining#mine
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Thinking about hand-kisses, actually.
Aventurine would like to believe he's flighty enough to not make it obvious, which he is to an interesting degree â that the pulse at the juncture of your wrist soothes his soul. To him, nothing else is more intimate. For, through this, he cherishes the very symbol of your existence. By acknowledging that rhythm, he's blessed.
Sunday's lips always linger when he kisses your hand. His fingers flex in uncertainty, strength waning and waxing before the struggle â to grasp or, to cherish? To hold, or constrict? Alas, the anticipation of decorum always leaves these questions to perpetual vacillation.
Dr Ratio inclines to kiss the crater of your palm, burrowing as deep as the lines would allow. He huffs as if its an inconvenience â perhaps, bearing the weight of such adoration is an inconvenience, even for a brilliant scholar. You wouldn't know though, that his apparent fixation with your palm is but an excuse to hide the blood that rushes to his cheeks whenever he concedes before your altar.
Mr Reca always makes a show out of it. A kiss to your pinky, another barely touching the tip of your fingernail, a teasing whisper over your knuckles. Close, but never enough. Just when you're drunk and sunk in his ploys, will he strike.
Mydei leans towards your hand just the same, but the expected kiss is always replaced with a nip, or a bite to your wrist or finger. The dumbfounded blinks, flustered fluttering of your lashes and indignant protests are far too delightful to not exploit.
Phainon, ever so graceful, is a mess in the palms of your hands. His lips cannot settle for one spot, he must kiss every fingertip, every knuckle, every phantom of a vein and every crease that marks your being. It's a waste holding back, his salvation is in embracing the fall.
Anaxa who bows before none, always kneels first before kissing your hand. It does not matter when or where, he will always lower himself to one knee and peer up at your radiance. His prayers are never verbal, but his gaze is parched enough to appeal to your heart and grant him his solace every time. But, would you still remain so merciful, if you knew the unrelenting pace of his greed?
#tired of seeing hand-kisses being portrayed lightly- they're incredibly intimate imo#the amount of yearning and pining one can convey through them is surreal#aventurine x reader#dr ratio x reader#sunday x reader#mr reca x reader#phainon x reader#mydei x reader#anaxa x reader#yandere aventurine#yandere dr ratio#yandere sunday#yandere mr reca#yandere phainon#yandere mydei#yandere anaxa#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#sunday hsr#aventurine#dr ratio#anaxa#phainon#mydei#mr reca
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pretty sure cuddling together in my bed while it rains outside is definitely going to increase your lifespan, just saying <33
#queer shenanigans and all that#queer#bi#bisexual#wlw longing#wlw love#wlw pining#wlw yearning#mlm longing#mlm love#mlm pining#mlm yearning#nblm longing#nblm love#nblm pride#nblm yearning#nblw yearning#nblw pining#nblw longing#nblw love#gay#gay yearning#gay panic#bi posting#bi panic#bi pining#bi positivity#bi butch#bi love#bi yearning
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this panel makes me laugh so hard why was he so aggressive about it
#he's not interested in men did you hear#then what about all that yearning and pining and worrying for kdj you ask? oh that's just. that's. uh.#joongdok#orv
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fatima aamer bilal, from âi am your mould, but the shape of you is true absence, leaving me purposeless.â
[text id: you and i, blur into one]
#fatima aamer bilal#moony moonless sky#i am your mould but the shape of you is true absence leaving me purposeless#poetry#literature#longing#yearning#poeticstories#pining#lit#typography#book quotations#writings#quotation#poem#prose#art#bts#franz kafka#sylvia plath#lana del rey#jane austen#mahmoud darwish#pheobe bridgers#mitski#hozier#web weaving#web weave#words words words#poetry collection
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counting the steps to the door of your heart Ëââ§ę°á â
how to be a true YEARNER (jk yearn how u want)
â´ person a watching person b trail further and further off, and person a is frozen in place. person bâthough walking awayâseems closer than ever through person a's gaze
â´ being completely hyper-focused on a book, yet every page, every beautiful metaphor reminds person a of person b
â´ you two are both lying next to each other and you feel asleep. the person next to you has to try their hardest to resist the urge to reach out and touch you. just one stroke of the cheek is all the desireâthe chance to have their hands brush across your soft skin.
â´ "i just can't do it man" "do what?" "i can't just sit in front of them and act like everything's normal. i want more, but i know that it would be wrong to have it. but i need them. i feel crazyâam i crazy?"
â´ person a keeps thinking about person b, even though they've only met once. once their eyes meet person b's, everything slows. nothing else matters except for the smile on their face. something clicked.
â´ "have i ever told you that you were the one thing that just made sense?" "no, but go on." and the other person malfunctions because... well where do they start. how do they go about this w/o rambling, or letting their true feelings out?
â´ the constant need to reach out. the constant need to grab their hand, rub their arm, and put your head on their shoulder.
â´ wanting to know everything about themâlittle or big: their daily schedule, what shampoo they use, whether they are feeling the same as you. any crumb of information would be satisfactory
â´ anxiously bouncing your knee in hopes that you can see them and have a conversation. finding any excuse to come up and talk. you just want to see them and have your eyes fall on their silhouette.
â´ they laugh at something you said, and the melodious sound of their chuckle carries around the room, gracing your ears. now, you start planning another joke, hoping to hear that warm sound again.
â´ "i don't think i can hide it anymore. how it's like my heart is on the verge of a heart attack when you text me. how i've delved into all your favorite movies, books, and tv shows ever since you've told me about them. how i wanted to be close to youânot just physically."
â´ "i kept doing all these things just to see if you would do them with me. i really wanted you to be there with me."
â´ the way that everything is fine and under control until they take one look at your lips.
â´ "you're doing that thing by the way. when you lie to make someone feel better? you bite the inside of your bottom lip and nod, then you make this really pitying look with your eyes. like a squinty thing." "...wow"
#keyotosprompts#fluff prompts âËâżË°#otp prompts#otp writing#writeblr#writing#writing prompts#imagine your otp#creative writing#otp ideas#writing prompt#dialogue prompts#romance writing#on writing#prompts#story prompts#prompt list#romance prompts#yearning#yearning used to be called pining back in my day#now all these locals yearn...#jk if you yearn you are ONE OF US!!!
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