#which i love with all my heart it had a beautiful rich sound and fits perfectly in my tiny hands

[lenskij]

it's Friday so instead of thinking about anything else I'm drooling over a shiny (expensive....) hard case for my cello. Unfortch no local shops carry it, and if I order it online there'd be so much hassle to return it in because the post office will shoot on sight if I attempt to ship a cello case with them. Ah the struggle!

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[cynoswhore]

how he loves

ayato x reader

gn reader

growing up, ayato was given things of monetary value rather than emotional. a boy of a rich family clan, believed to have only been thankful for gifts that could benefit himself. expensive papers, governmental trips, etc.

always sent alone.

expensive gifts and grand contributions were all he had to show any appreciation he held for others

he wants nothing more than to make you feel like the greatest soul on earth, yet can only give as much as his unspoken words are worth. and, let’s be honest, those words are barely worth even seven mora. lovely wishes of fortune upon you become poorly said harsh judgements.

he just can’t form words. maybe it’s because of how whenever he sees your features he’s speechless.. or maybe he just sucks at talking without sounding cocky.

his love for you runs rapidly throughout his veins, pumping through his heart and filling every area of his body with the thick love he feels. he wishes for nothing more than to make your heart flutter as he romances you.

words meant a lot, and he was trying to use them.

he has attempted many times to write love letters for you. scrapped poems piled up in his trash bin as he hunches over his desk. he couldn’t begin to write anything that could fit how much he cared for you.

you were perfect to him, far too great for the mediocre words written by him on lined paper. nothing could compare to the beauty that sprouted from inside of you. he adores your smile, your eyes, your everything.

he just can’t express it in any form other than gifts.

watches with crystal core engravings, watatsumi pearl earrings, anything. he wishes he could buy your love, but that’d make it easy.

fancy dinner dates and paid for expeditions to the most intricate places of teyvat are the most of your anniversary gifts. but, at the bottom of the giant gift box, there was a short letter.

an endless supply of milk tea could never amount to the joyousness which fills my heart as i caress your cheeks. i want nothing more than to spend all of eternity with you, if you would have me?

you look up from the letter, dropping it as you see ayato perched on one knee, a tear dripping down his cheek.

[liminal-zone]

courage, dear heart

i wrote a thing! 

AO3 fic link: atomic blonde

fandom: Narnia/LOTR crossover | ship: Susan Pevensie/Éowyn, background Haladriel

rated: mature | tagged: crossover, canon compliant, pining, Gender Politics with Clive Staples and John Ronald Reuel, post The Horse and His Boy, bittersweet

Summary: It’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war. And in this strange country, she will find her courage.

Set as Frodo becomes the ringbearer, set after Susan returns from Tashbaan and the Battle of Anvard is won.

a/n: Written for @thenarniaficexchange 2023 for @syrena-of-the-lake. Is this fic just a string of references from all seven narnia books, at least five lotr books, various narnia and lotr films, a lotr tv show, Churchill’s “we shall fight on the beaches”, and Shakespeare? Maybe so.

Two canons in a blender, my favorite scene in this is when the Dark Lord Sauron comes to Queen Susan in her dreams to take her apart and finds something he didn’t expect. And my heart aches to answer an unanswered question in the fic about magicked memory loss and the Problem of Susan, perhaps in a sequel. 

Excerpt:

Her hands are dirty from drawing the circle, fingers burned from the blue fire.

The bright magic ring she wears is cold, very cold; cold as the bottom of the sea. And it sings of power, not of the flesh, but over flesh. The power of the Unseen World.

In her mouth is the language spoken before the dawn of time. Before the Deep Magic was written. Before the Sun and the Moon were made. “Call her up.”

*

It’s quite sudden – the searing sound in her ears and then a great pop – and she’s no longer riding alongside her sister in the wilds of Galma but in a strange, alien land.

She stills her horse, and is surprised to find it not the dumb Galman beast who was a pleasure to ride along the sands of the ocean, but a great stallion fit for a warrior of renown. The shabby islander saddle is now richly ornate, covered in symbols she does not recognize. The windswept sea of grass smells sweet; rich earth beneath and a warm yellow sun in the endless blue sky above. Massive forests and towering mountains in the distance, and far off to the south, clouds of smoke. No recognizable landmark of any kind.

This curious little girl from Finchley has experienced travel between worlds before, but she does not quite remember the first time. Something about a mother who loved her and a great stairwell and the numbing horror of nonstop destruction; all faded in memory and deemed unimportant, lost. She is now queen of a great country; taller than her brother, the High King, and a remarkable beauty sought by highborns across the known world. Her raven-colored hair and red lips, haunting the dreams of many. Her gracious kindness, a balm to her loving subjects once subjugated by winter and a witch.

More importantly, she still remains curious.

For she is Susan, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, Queen over Narnia under the High King Peter, the Lady of Cair Paravel and Protector of the River Rush, Blessed by the Radiant Southern Sun, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Daughter of Eve, the Gentle.

And this strange country, unknown to her, is Middle Earth.

*

Her magical horn came with her, tied to her belt. There is no hesitation as she raises it to her lips. Father Christmas had said “–wherever you are–,” so she blows it, calling for help in this alien place.

The full velvety sound rings out across the grassy plains, ringing up through the nearby mountains and reaching forests unknown and reaching foreign ears in their towers of stone. (Perhaps even reaching the power that brought her here.)

A rider appears in the distance. Susan narrows her eyes, considering if this is friend or foe. She only has a dagger and her wits, which may be enough.

It is a warrior with a shield on his arm. He rides a white steed and golden horse hair flows out of his helmet. He shines bright like the famed white stag and Susan feels an intense urge to chase this rider at once, to put an arrow in his heart and drag him to the ground.

To demand wishes? Perhaps. The urge is unknowable.

But no: this is no white stag, nor a magical creature of any sort.

And Susan does not yet know that this is no man.

Susan called for help, and help has arrived in the form of Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan.

*

It is a cautious meeting and neither dismount.

The rider’s gaze is appraising, obviously noting Susan’s foreign dress. There’s the uncommon length of her raven hair, adorned with the lush island flowers of Galma. The dagger and white horn at her side, and the ease in which Susan is managing a stallion. The queenly posture; a regal confidence undoubted. (This is learned behavior. Pevensies can trace their lineage to poor fishermen in East Sussex and poorer soldiers from Normandy.)

Susan’s assessment is this: the young rider is a dangerous warrior, lithe and well-knit in frame, made all the more queer with his open courtesy to a stranger.

“What country, friend, is this?” Susan asks.

The rider tilts his head. “This is Rohan, my lady.” His voice ringing out clear.

And what shall I do in Rohan? Susan thinks, miserably.

“Are you in need some assistance, my lady?” the rider continues, a look of concern in his gray eyes. A pause. “I am Dernhelm, at your service.”

*

Dernhelm listens to her tale and “strange sorcery” is his response. He thinks a moment before: “Have you experience with witches?”

Susan gives a smile, but it is a bitter one. She knows more than some about witches.

After Susan explains, Dernhelm nods. “The way I see it is this: you have appeared here through magic, for what reason, I cannot say. And you have appeared in Rohan, for what reason, I cannot say. You are no servant of the Dark Lord, there is something true and honorable about you.” He stops there for a moment before a continuing in a most peculiar tone. “The wizards have no interest in queens; what is a woman to the affairs of air and earth? So, the Lady of the Golden Wood, she must be behind this and her reasons could have promise in them.”

“The Lady?” Susan echoes quietly. There are hags that called Her “the White Lady.”

“She is a great sorceress. An elf-witch of terrible power who dwells in Dwimordene.” Dernhelm looks grave. “It is said that all who look upon her shall fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Susan shivers, thinking of the horror of Jadis’ castle. Of Tumnus’ look of terror, frozen in stone.

Dernhelm continues. “My brother believes she is a myth, and–” he pauses as if pained by a memory unspoken. “My king’s advisor says webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.” He raises his chin, and his eyes are shining bright. “But I believe differently. There is an old, old tale of this elf-witch helping my annointed forebear, the first of our kings. I choose to believe that tale. I choose to believe that in our time of need, the Lady came to our aid. High honor to protect the king and his men, and dread magic too. And perhaps, perhaps if she is behind this, she can be reasoned with and you can return home. Should you have the courage, you seek her out.”

“Then I shall go to find this Lady of the Golden Wood,” Susan says. “If you will take me there, sir. For I do not know the way.”

The man sucks in air and holds it a moment before: “For this journey, you have my sword, your grace.”

[mysunandmoon98]

Sending waves to wave to earth as we grow alongside each other across the ocean 🌊

(rambings from a while back, edited to be coherent, please share this time of love with me)

I am someone who often questions things about myself, especially the things I am into and enjoy. I like to figure about exaclty what it is that captivates me. Wave to earth have been on my mind a lot recently with their US tour kicking off. Subsequently I started to wonder a little, what is it about this band that I am so captivated by and feel so connected to? To put it simply, music is art, and I honestly live day to day examening and thinking about art. What draws me into art is typically one of two things: admiration to anothers dedication/view of life or its relatability and how I see myself in that art, how it fits with my daily life and thoughts. Wave to earth's music is one of those gems that fulfils both categories. What captured me was their specific nestling into a blur of genres, and their appreciation and dedication to art, as well as their lyrics about life and love.

The first live performance of theirs that I watched was purple lake. It was just daniel and donkgyu in a little room, I vividly remember the purple glow of the room, and the multi coloured lights dancing across the walls. Dongkyu had a pair of sunglasses hanging from his shirt. Watching that performance, when the camera pans to dongkyu on the drums, it felt like the whole universe had singled into this one person, fulfilling their passion and translating feelings into sound. I had never been so captivated in this way before.

I started getting more into the lyrics too. I had been a fan of Daniel for a little while before I heard wave to earth so was familiar with his voice and lyrical style from the little snippets of what I understood before. I vividly remember one day, sat at the kitchen table listening to seasons, just recently after its release. I sat there with the lyrics in front of me, and I felt my heart warm a little. A delicate hum of pain and nostalgia which stuck with, and resonated with me so strongly. "I'd give you all my life, my seasons" Listening to songs like light, wave, ride and surf made me fall more in love with life. The link of love and life with the sea and nature fit hand in hand so beautifully. It gives a sense of connection, a grounding feeling, whilst also somehow making me feel like i'm floating in the clouds, my mind completely at peace, even in the middle of a hectic day.

Then as the autumn and winter come, I grativiate to songs such as bonfire and bird. A couple years ago, on my journeys back home from college, I would listen to these songs as the sun set. I shut the door on a difficult day listening to music that made life feel beautiful again. "Bird, how does it feel to fly. Hey bird, do you look down or forward?" These lyrics stuck in my mind, as I felt stuck in the sickening routine my life had back then. Do I look down to my heart, do I look to myself, to this moment, or do I look into the future? How is everyone around me living, how do you see? I felt confused, life was a blur of one day to the next. I would listen so intently, every lyric, every chord. One listen for the lyrics, one for Daniel's voice, one for the drums, one for the bass, one for the harmonies, one for it all together. It was moments of peace in during a messy time. From this, I found one of my big happinesses in life: bass guitar. I was drawn into John Cha's bass lines. I always pondered on which was a favourite. For autumn, I like bonfire, the bass gives a rich yet fluttering feeling, like fireflies dancing in the night. There is a certain part in gold which I adore it's like velvet, so smooth, so deep but also powerful. Then in daisy, in this one break- where often the guitar gets centre stage, there is just this epic breakdown, giving that depth, that almost tangible grip on the song, all the desire and the love just bursts out, and I think its incredible. I came to realise how beatiful bass guitar is. I love the melodic charm of John's playing, the variations during live performances too (I remember learning the term 'bass fills' from his youtube, which I know I probably use incorrectly haha, but just that little extra something special, I love it). I'm not too educated on music, I really only write from the heart, but I feel like John's playing, it really feels like another voice, another vocal, another expression of the lyrics. I never understood music in this way before, so deeply, so interconnected, so beautifully.

From this, music became such a bigger part of my life. I started listening to more instrumental songs, and I gained a whole new outlook on music and instruments. Side B of flaws and all... it really is my everything, that lofi jazz sound they have.. it is everything to me, and sparked my love for a new kind of music. I listen to side A when its sunny and bright out, as well as when my gloomy days need some sunshine. "I'm broken, so take me to the evening glow, and lay me down on the sun, the tender sun" This song, their music, is like a warm ray of sunshine.

So I think about this a lot, as time passes and things change. I feel I have changed and grown, and I look and see their success as a band and see how they have changed and grown and I feel immense happiness. I adore how wave to earth craft their music, their performances, their albums covers. It is always a big creative inspiration in my life. So I just wanted to talk about it, I'm a little bit lost for words, but these days I find myself tearing up thinking about these things so I just wanted to try and express how my heart has been feeling :')

[uselessmicrowave]

Hiii Microwave 💋

Could I please have a matchup with the TFP mechs? It doesn't matter which fraction! Honestly!

I'm in my early 20s, and while I may not fit the plus-sized category, I have a curvaceous figure in all the right places. Hailing from Honduras, my friends and I predominantly converse in Spanish. As an African Latina, I proudly boast a rich, dark complexion. I've chosen to dye my hair a beautiful shade of brown, which cascades down to my waist. However, if I were to pinpoint my favorite attribute, it would undoubtedly be my voice. It possesses a distinct quality that sets it apart. Past partners have described it as soothing due to its deep and nurturing tone for a cis female. But don't be fooled by my motherly nature; when provoked, I can unleash my fury and raise my voice in Spanish, regardless of the person I'm addressing. I'll continue shouting until my voice gives out, which strangely enough, my boyfriend finds alluring. Although, another thing about me is that I'm an amazing listener. And I'm VERY clingy. To be exact, I will absolutely overthink if you leave me on read for like 1 minute. And when you finally come home, I ignore you for the rest of the night. Because who tf do you think you are ignoring me like that. And last but not least, I like to spend most of my time collecting toy figures and giving them away to younger children that don't have a lot of money in their families. I tend to give stuff away due to my generous personality. If there is a child at a store who wants to buy a toy or something and their mom says that they don't have enough money, I'll gladly step up and buy the toy for them. And I would do the same for my cybertronian significant other. Even if they really don't need it, if I catch them looking at something on the Internet for quite a while, I'll get the hint and I'll buy it for them. Doesn't matter what it is. It could even be a buttplug for all I know idfc🙄

Anyways, thank you for your time ❤️

Hello! I’m going to match you with TFP Bumblebee!

(small nsfw warning)

Immediately notices your voice when you meet him. Kind of low key jealous. Just a little bit.

Don’t loose your voice shouting though! Bapy is always worried that you’re gonna strain your voice too hard and it’ll go away. He doesn’t know how humans work so Bee is worried for you.

Contradicting that last headcanon, he gets heart-optics when you yell at someone in Spanish, even if it’s him. He loves domineering/demanding/loud partners and will not be very afraid to show it. If you’re anything like that he’ll fall faceplates first into love.

It’s good that you’re a listener because he’s not very good at listening. Even if you can’t understand his beeping sounds, he’ll (if you let him) lay his helm on your lap and ramble about what slag the ‘cons tried to pull the other day or how low energon supplies are. He’s always less stressed after he talks to you.

You’ll never have to worry about being left on read with Bumblebee because if you so much as send him ‘hi,’ he’ll start a full conversation with you. He would love to talk in person instead but texting is a close second for him.

He would love to see your toy collection. They’re very different from the ones he had (when he was a sparkling) on cybertron, so just holding the toys is cool for him.

If you let him, if it’s only 100% okay with you, he’ll pick out some to bring to the base for Raph.

Let him brush/play with your hair! He’ll be so happy. From a different perspective, it looks like a schoolgirl brushing a dolls hair, he’ll kick his legs in the air too. You get your hair brushed and swarmed by kisses.

Bumblebee gets all smiley when you step up to buy a toy for a kid. Kind of a “that’s my partner!” thing, children probably see you as a hero and so does he.

When you offer to buy him something, he is grateful, but he doesn’t want to waste your money. You can buy it for him, only if you insist.

If the item is of a more sexual nature (a collar or vibrator for him, most likely) he’ll be really embarrassed that you caught him looking for things like that. “If you want to pay for it you can but only if you want to” (Bee’s doing the little 👉👈👉👈 thing as he talks to you).

[thepaintedlady00]

Here's the sneak peek at Burden Part 7 as well as a few songs that I think fit the vibe Part 7 is giving. 😂

And here is the sneak peek! Enjoy! 🔮

Laughter echoed in his ears as he lay in the sun kissed fields of Fiddler's Green. There were few moments that Dream of the Endless could recall feeling so at peace, but this was certainly one of them. He could see the bright hues of the orange light bleeding into the rich purples of impending night. The light clouds shifted in the gentle breeze, making way for the starlight. More beautiful than that sight was the sound of her laughter.

Dream turned his head just enough to find her glowing ethereal figure. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder as she bent over to dip her hands into the crystal pool of water at her feet. The dress he'd made her had dirt and leaves stuck to the bottom, but she didn't seem to notice or maybe she simply didn't care. She laughed again as the taller blades of grass shifted, tickling the side of her neck, a game Fiddler's Green had taken up to bring the usually reserved immortal to laughter.

The fading sunlight cast the perfect glow over her, a halo of light curled around her head as she looked up and met his gaze. Daunt smiled, the sight of it alone sending Dream adrift on waves of longing and joy - such things he'd not allowed himself to feel for a very long time. He could not help the way he instantly smiled back, nor the way his heart raced as she came to join him in the grass.

Flowers sprouted up beneath her thicker of hair as she settled beside him and turned her head. "What are you thinking about?"

You. He'd almost said - wanted to say. "I was simply admiring the peacefulness."

Daunt hummed softly, reciting the tune she always did when she hummed. It was the same tune they'd first danced to that night so long ago here in Fiddler's Green. He did not recognize the melody from the humans, but had not dared ask her its significance for fear of causing her to retreat. After a moment she sighed, looking up at the sky as the darker shades began to overtake it. "No matter how many times I see it, I'll never grow tired of this view."

His eyes never left her face, memorizing every detail of her. The way her skin glowed and how her lips pursed ever so slightly when she stopped talking, the way the light caught her dark eyes and made the color of them more vibrant. "Neither will I."

"We should go," she said, a sadness causing her brows to crease. "It will be night soon enough."

"There is still time," he assured her.

"Do you intend to keep the dreamers waiting?" She questioned with an amused look.

Dream chuckled, reaching out and brushing his fingers across the back of her hand. "Were it within my power I would stop the turn of the Earth to prolong this moment of rare tranquility."

"I'm sure your father would love that." Her hand opened to his and their fingers wove together.

They had held hands many times, danced even more, but it was never enough. Dream wanted to feel her touch for eternity. He wanted to see her beautiful smile every moment if every day. Most of all he wished to hear her laughter, it was such a rare occurrence which was truly criminal considering how melodic it was. "Are you happy?"

"Happy?" She repeated the word with caution, as if even the mere thought of the word would bring about some world ending event. "I… Think so. I've never been happy for long, so it's hard to tell sometimes. But," she smiled again, meeting his eyes. "I am happy when I am with you."

"As I am happy when you are near me." He admitted gently.

"You haven't grown tired of me yet?"

Dream twisted slightly, moving to stroke her cheek. "I could never grow tired of you, Daunt."

Worry, doubt and a hopefulness all shined back at him through her eyes. "Do you promise?"

"I swear it."

With a relieved sigh she stood, turning to offer her hand to him. "Come with me Morpheus."

"Here in the darkness."

The sunlight faded as he reached for her hand. "Morpheus, please."

"Here in the darkness."

Daunts face twisted into the pained, tear stained expression he'd last seen before she left. "Morpheus."

"Here in the darkness."

Dream opened his eyes to the achingly bright light that reflected within his glass prison. All feelings of comfort… safety… home was gone as the dark world of Roderick Burgess' basement brought him back to reality. He was a captive here. Summoned and bound by some ameture magician and his cult of mindless sheep. For the first time in his existence Dream of the Endless was powerless.

In the quiet he thought of many things. His escape, the vengeance in store for his captors, The Dreaming and most of all Daunt. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her, joyful and smiling at him before those memories of her touch were replaced by the ones of her hands grinding beneath his as her tearful eyes looked up at him in fear. Looking at his own blurred reflection in the glass he hardly recognized himself. Would she recognize me? He wondered. Did she even know what had befallen him? Did she even care?

"Fear not, Dream Lord, I'll not make such mistakes again."

No. Wherever she was, Dream was certain thoughts of him had not crossed her mind at all.

[andguesswhat]

Diary of a mall Santa Claus

You're so sweet for giving me hearts and reblogs for my four lines! 😀 Here is a little more 😚

13

Cheer up Day

*

There's something different about Timmy today.

He doesn't glow. Instead, he looks like a pile of misery.

His whole figure shows that he is sad. And angry, somehow.

"What happened?"

"I had an audition yesterday and they just called to tell me I didn't get the part."

Armie feels like he himself is the one who didn't get the part. "I'm so sorry..." And to cheer him up, he adds, "Wankers!"

Timmy smiles only half-heartedly though, and Armie realizes that it's obviously going to take more than a few curses to cheer him up.

So the whole shift he's totally goofy, cracking jokes with the kids, being the dorkiest Santa ever, completely over the top, making a fool of himself just to take Timmy's mind off things, and it's a load off his mind when he finally sees Timmy smile and even laugh.

The sadness returns, however, when the shift is over.

As agreed, it's Timmy's turn to accompany Armie to his hotel, even though Armie tells him he doesn't have to if he doesn't feel like it. But Timmy insists.

He's very silent, but when Armie asks him after a while if he wants to talk about the audition, he vents.

"I would have been right for the part, I know that! I don't want to sound arrogant, but I could have played it well! I know exactly how the role feels. I know how the role thinks. I just know it. And I can play it! You're probably thinking what an arrogant asshole I am but I just know I could have done it, done it well. The role would have been so great, finally I could have played a real character in a good movie! Not just this TV ... stuff. Oh man, that sounds so unfair. Like I'm not grateful for it. I am! But I ... argh!" He sighs in resignation. "I'd better stop, or I'll make things worse."

Armie is quite impressed by Timmy's passion, which goes far beyond normal disappointment, and he has to smile at Timmy's constant attempt to be fair and include all sides in his outburst.

"You don't sound arrogant," he assures him. "It's good to know what you can do. But it's often just coincidences that they choose one and not the other, isn't it?"

"They picked someone else from my class. And I feel like they just took him because he looks different than me!

I don't want to be someone they don't take because they think my looks wouldn't fit a role. Because they think I'm too pretty or something."

Armie has to smile again, because he can't imagine anyone who doesn't want to see Timmy's beautiful face go through every possible emotion there is in the world.

"We should start a 'too pretty to act' support group," he suggests to lighten the mood, but has to correct himself, "Although with me, it's more about people thinking I shouldn't want anything in life because I'm rich, white and good-looking."

Timmy sighs, "That sucks, doesn't it? When people are so judgmental."

There's a small pause.

"Your time will come," Armie says. "As passionate as you are about it, your time will come. And I'm not just saying that. Your next chance will come. I mean, you're nineteen, for fuck's sake."

Timmy still doesn't seem convinced.

"I feel like I've already blown it and I'm going to be on stupid TV shows for the rest of my life! I feel like I'm already too old to get where I want to go."

And this time Armie really has to laugh out loud.

"Too old?"

Timmy rolls his eyes at not being taken seriously, so Armie changes the subject and asks, "What kind of role was it?"

"It was just a small role, but interesting! A son of a father whose daughter disappeared. And the director is sooo good. I would have loved to work with him. And I blew it! I fucking blew it."

"Maybe one day you'll work with this director because he's seen you now and he'll remember you. As far as I can tell, I'd love to see you act. And as a wise actor once told me, don't beat yourself up, it only makes it worse."

Timmy has to smile at this, and Armie is relieved that Timmy's displeasure with this situation is slowly fading. At least for the moment.

And then they continue to talk about acting and life as they walk along, and it just feels so damn good.

When they arrive at the Hilton, Armie can't resist, he just has to pull Timmy into his arms, holds him tight and his heart leaps when he realizes Timmy is holding him too.

Again they say goodbye until the next day and smile at each other.

That smile remains on Armie's face as he enters the hotel, as he enters the elevator, as he enters his room.

And Armie's intention?

It's not that he doesn't want to get into Timmy's pants anymore, but he just… loves it the way it is right now.

*

[sweetestlittledarling]

The Freddy Problem

Part of @monthly-challenge 2024 | Confession

Rating: PG

Summary: So you ever been writing a scene and been like: "Wait this fits the theme!" (Lol). This would be part of a longer story I want to call 'Heartsong Day Mix Up' which involves a love potion, an old beau, and just a whole lot of mixed up romantic stuff. The scene in question is after Julian has met Fredrick, Sparrow's captain ex-beau and starts to do his overthinking as they get ready for bed that evening...

“You got your overthinking face on.”

              Julian blinked as he blushed. “What?”

              Sparrow moved to stand in front of him, her eyes looking up at him as if she could already read his mind (which in all honesty she probably could). “You have that look on your face that you are over thinking something, and I think you would feel much better if you told me.”

              Julian hesitated before putting on a neutral face. “I don’t know what you are talking about my dear, I’m fine.”

              “Okay,” Sparrow sighed, touching his arm with a gentle touch, “you don’t have to tell me, but you know I’m here if you need someone to talk to.” She turned her back to him, beginning to undo her braid, letting her long dark wavy hair fall around her shoulders.

              Julian watched silently as this beautiful woman went about getting ready for bed. His ungloved clenched and unclenched as his heart screamed at him to say something. Finally, he found the power to speak. “He’s very handsome.”

              Sparrow turned and looked at him again, smiling knowingly. “You are talking about Freddy, aren’t you?”

              He didn’t have to confirm he could tell she already knew. “And he clearly has some money,” Julian went on, imagining the man in his mind which really wasn’t helping. “Plus, he is a captain of a ship.”

              “Indeed,” Sparrow mused, “Freddy is and does have all those things. Apparently, he has been doing very well for himself since our parting.” She tilted her head slightly. “Are you worried I am going to run away with Freddy?”

              Even though he felt pain in his heart at the idea, Julian put on his clever grin. “Well, he is a catch and honestly, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to. I wouldn’t even try to stop you because honestly who can compete with Fredrick the handsome rich sea captain who could give you a much better life then I could.” The words stung. He hadn’t been so down on himself in a while, and it was clear that he had forgotten how much his worst enemy really was his own mind. He was brought back to reality by the feeling of Sparrow’s hand on his face.  He instinctively leaned into the touch feeling her warmth.

              “Do you really think I would do that to you?” she asked sounding a little hurt, which also stung because he never wanted to hurt her.

              “Well maybe not so much like that,” Julian admitted, his voice starting to waver a bit, “but honestly, I worry by being with me that you are missing out on someone who is better for you. Someone who deserves you and could give you all the things you could ever need.”

              “And you think you don’t?”

              Julian opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to form the words as his heart told him one thing but his mind told him another.

              “Julian,” Sparrow said taking his hands into hers and leading him to the bed, “we are going to sit here and I’m going to explain something. Is that okay with you?”

              He didn’t object nor did he fight back as she sat down pulling him down with her. They continued to hold hands as she spoke, her small warm hands holding on to his larger colder ones.

              “Alright now I want to make some things very clear,” Sparrow said, her eyes looking into his and keeping him from looking away. “Yes, I do think that Freddy is handsome. I thought so when I first fell for him. For the record I do find you handsome as well. I assume what you really want to know is if I still have feelings for Freddy and the answer that I can honestly say is yes- “

              Julain felt a twinge in his chest, but Sparrow was quick to bring him back with a squeeze of the hand.

              “Let me finish,” she warned, not allowing him to go delving into the hole he was ready to dig. “Freddy and I were in a relationship for a long time. I had very strong feelings for him, and those feelings don’t just disappear. They do get less passionate and more like a fond memory, something I look back on and treasure. I look at Freddy now and I don’t feel the same pull I did when I was younger. I certainly don’t want to run away with him, especially since that would mean leaving the wonderful life I have here with you. I don’t want a sea captain. I want a wonderfully kind doctor who makes me laugh with his theatrics, who sings with such passion that it’s hard not fall in love, and who makes me happy to wake up each and every day at his side.” She reached up and cupped his pale cheek, smiling as she spoke the words that still made his heart shiver in delight no matter how many times he heard them. “I love you, Julian.”

              He sighed contentedly as he closed his eyes nuzzling to the touch. He kissed her palm, thanking whatever deity had brought her to him. He still didn’t fully believe he deserved her, but he was so thankful that she remained by his side.

              “You know there is a big difference between you and Freddy.”

              He opened his eyes in curiosity, finding her now looking down on her lap. Her hand fell away from his face as her other handheld his tightly. It was one of the few times he had ever seen his fiery phoenix being so hesitant. He squeezed her hand back as if to say that it was okay, quietly reassuring.

              “Both you and Freddy had a choice on going off on a grand adventure,” she said after a moment, “the difference is that you came back. Freddy chose the adventure but you…you chose to come back to the real world…and to me.” A sad smile graced her lips as she spoke. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. I know it can’t have been easy, but I will always be very thankful you didn’t sail away like Freddy did.”

              Julian was instantly brought back to the moment in the Hangman’s realm, standing there on that beach, considering what his next step would be. He wondered if Freddy ever had been standing there considering everything he could possibly gain and/or loose, over the love of this beautiful woman. It wasn’t like either of them could go back and change it even if they wanted to, but honestly, looking at Sparrow now, Julian knew he had made the right choice. “My darling, you don’t need to thank me,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. “You are everything to me. My darling Sparrow, my star, my warmth on a cold winter’s night, and the person I would always willingly come back to no matter the obstacle. We’ve already proven death can’t keep us apart so I feel stupid even thinking that a handsome sea captain could.”

              Sparrow laughed, making Julain feel warm inside. “Yes well, I will take the obstacle of a handsome sea captain over dying,” she said leaning up to kiss him, “because honestly one is much easier to deal with.”

[apoapsis]

@flashofyellowlights​ said,

                Her excuse of being out for a sudden call into work seemed to work well enough-- even with his small fit there nothing questioned, nothing suspicious. As unfortunate as it was for her to have to upset him with this disheartening (albeit false) news, it worked in her favor a bit. Her return to the apartment was not only a (hopefully) pleasant surprise, but she brought gifts! "I was worried that my late shopping would leave me with little options, but I think I managed just fine..." With a small chuckle, presented to Sigma with bashful eagerness is a handful of shopping bags.

"Ta-da! Happy Valentine's Day." Several of the bags, while small in size, contained assorted treats such as chocolates and carved fruits-- while one bag in particular was heavy with trinkets such as sizeable geodes, a generic teddy bear and a beautifully designed sun catcher. "I hope it makes up for my little lie this morning."

                  It’s difficult to suppress the sensation of abandonment whenever Angela leaves for work-- although he feels he’s gotten better about it. That is, when he expects it; as understanding and patient as he tries to be, it’s difficult not to want to fly off of the proverbial handle whenever something calls her attention away from him.  SIGMA feels guilty after she leaves, having allowed his frustration to get the better of him and shed tears over the whole thing.

Initially, her return catches him off-guard-- taken aback by the rapidity of which she returns to the apartment. He is, however, confused, by the variety of bags she totes inside and deposits onto the coffee table before him. On one hand, he’s still a little sensitive-- especially when Angela confirms it to have been a lie this entire time... On the other, however.... who doesn’t like gifts...? SIGMA leafs through a couple of the bags with the same tentativeness as a cat, the vinyl bags crinkling softly as his large hand sifts through. Strange-- had there always been this many holidays? Or had he simply never taken time to notice, in his former life? It’s nice to have a second chance, to experience things like this for the first time again.

                   .... Especially with Angela-- regardless of whatever SIEBREN says.

“-- Tch! Well, I suppose I can overlook it...“ He tries to sound mad about it, he really does not appreciate the idea of being lied to-- even if it was under the guise of being a ‘surprise’... Ah, but look how pleased she is with herself... It’d be cruel of him to spoil her mood exclusively because his feelings are a little stung-- he isn’t SIEBREN, after all. He should be grateful that Angela had even considered him at all... “-- Just this once! Only because you are SO sweet!” He adds hastily.

                    A small heart-shaped piece of chocolate is plucked from one of the bags, the foil peeled away via gravity in favor of placing the treat onto his tongue. Ah... so rich! He tries to make a mental note of not gorging himself on sweets too quickly, lest he spoil his appetite for lunch with all of the sugar. “... This is nice! Thank you!“ SIGMA chimes affirmatively as he savors the way the candy melts in his mouth with hardly a need to chew. The adorable little bear finds itself cradled to his stomach as if it were a real animal, the plush, white fur contrasting against his faded black jumpsuit sharply as a large arm sits lazily coiled around it. Really, despite it just being a plastic comfort toy, he loves being able to hold it as tightly as he wanted without fear of harming a real, living thing.

What’s remarkable, is just how excited one man can get over receiving yet another suncatcher when he already owned so many hanging around the apartment as-is.

                  “-- Oh, OH! This one is BEAUTIFUL! I LOVE IT!“ He cringes a little at his own volume, giving Angela an apologetic smile as the suncatcher is pulled from the bag entirely so that he can inspect it up against the light. Its centerpiece is just a relatively cheap, resin crystal heart-- but it gleams and shimmers with similar properties to glass all the same. “Hm... I think I will put up this one in the bedroom! The space by the balcony is getting a tad crowded... Hehe...! I feel as though if I placed anymore there, we may start signaling ships off of the coast during the day with how bright your living room has become!“

The items are discarded briefly, however, in favor of lifting from his spot on the sofa to lurch towards her, aloft in the air, so that he may hug her. His deceptively massive body collides with hers as if he weighed little more than a pillow as strong arms eagerly ensnare the doctor, shoving his face up against Angela’s as he bumps his nose against hers affectionately-- something typically reserved only for SIEBREN, himself.

                     “... You make me feel so special! Thank you, Miss Angela!“

[kakujis]

Hi! I'm sorry but what does CPL mean? that's okay, i'll answer on my computer too and the app is just glitchy, it's not worth the risk.

that's true, leander could definitely be a big plot twist like he may had already figured out how to cure the MC but keep it a secret so she won't leave the city anytime soon. i've seen their tumblr blog but i cannot do that because it would remind me of the long awaited release date which is forever away LMAO. are there just characters page for the love interests or is there one for sen/elyon too?

i suppose since they are the non-humans character, it does seem likely that is the case. maybe, vere broke into the senobium and learnt stuffs that he shouldn't had ? or maybe he own them some debt or something ? that's true but all of these vital info would probably be reveal in the halfway point of each route.

if the moon was a person, it would be mhin like look at their character design! that's interesting though because i'm sure they and ais are opposites. vere is definitely eye candy but the studio had poured their hearts into their designs because the artists have added distinctive touches to their faces.

but vere's and leander (marks and scars) are the only obvious one, with the rest, you do need to look closely like mhin's beauty mark, ais's eyebrow with the shaven streak across the centre and the golden teardrops underneath kuras's eyes.

that's sound fun! good luck with that. i really like mhin because their character design solely pulled me and their character/personality because i saw myself in them which is probably a bad thing LMAO. i was leaning towards ais too but when i noticed his eyebrow, i got reminded of my brother because he naturally have that with his one so it hasn't been the same since then ;-; but i like kuras a lot!

there was a fem!li for another otome game called ozmafia but i think it was platonic romance? i think it was more of a friendship route since it came out in 2013. that's true, i cannot recall other female characters in otome game and if they are, they're normally a shit stirrer or the mc's rival.

i hope the studio see the fan comments about sen so they won't change her design because it would be such a waste! ais would be terrifying as a yandere though esp since he have those soul eaters (is that what they call) at his beck and call. but i feel like their approaches would be very different from each other like ais would be upfront and controlling but leander would be patronising and gaslighting.

like with leander, the mc would need to be smart to realise what's going on otherwise it'll be too late or they're just simply naive where they will never realise and i dk which fate is more worst.

speaking of yanderes, do you read/write yan! contents? i read them a little bit but nothing hardcore and i am writing some yan fanfics (bnha and tokyo revengers series) but i'm posting them on ao3.

kuras is very polite and private, he does fit his profession but i felt like he was someone who used to wear his heart on his sleeve but shit happened. the other origins would reveal more of him considering his dialogue towards but it'll only be trinkets/hints so ppl will play the game when it come out.

there is a possibility because his basic summary sentence that he's looking for the one thing that money cannot buy so he seem to be the only rich character. but sometimes, i do wonder if sen will be blind (?) considering her eyes and the scar/stitches on her face, it does look like she was in a horrific accident.

i'm going to add it towards the end but my shipping cost will be $20-$40 so i might just abandon the idea. i'm sure there will be a chance to buy more merch when the game come out but it's probably be more expensive than the kickstarter version.

yh, i saw that goal! do you think we might get partial voice acting for them too? but the animated intro, that is the studio's biggest dream, it's the one that they want to unlock the most.

oh, i know what that is but never heard the official japanese term for it, thanks for explaining. do you ever feel embarrass with your? because i've noticed that most of them have inappropriate designs so i never went ahead and brought them. from your body pillow case, i'm assuming you're a gamer (?)

well, i think that's a bit hasty too because if studio fail to develop the game, kickstarter won't be able to refund their pledge but i highly doubt that will happen but that's always a risk regarding kickstarters. (i feel like this is something mhin would probably say too LMAO)

i think the studio added more slots for that but are already sold out or on the last one.

hiya <3! cpl is a shortened way to say: couple! i write with a ton of shortened words n phrases, i'll keep that in mind from nyeow on! also hard agree on the app being glitchy, i've seen a ton of ppl saying even their tags aren't working and i'm like tumblr can we get it together just once!!!!

maybe! i think the way that leander is strong enough to resist the curse is telling in itself! god he's so mysteriouss, i wanna know more, sobbing. also, i think kuras may also know as well since he IS a whole angel + doctor. i didn't see any chara pages for sen/elyon yet! but i think we'll probably get those :').

i think so! either that or he willingly went to the senobium and ended up getting captured! ORRR he could've been betrayed? I know kuras used to work with the senobium and vere HATES him. EEEE MAYBE THATS IT? i'm not sure why kuras would sellout vere though.. hm. UGH NONNIE WE HAVE TO WAIT SO LONG WHILE WE THEORIZE..

YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT MHIN BEING THE MOON UGH. i wanna write a drabble on that line now hehe. they're so beautiful, so pretty, so handsome and everything in between and beyond. i wanna make mhin my computer bg cause i'm soo in love with their design. and IKR LOL. ais seems to be a lot more carefree and mhin is a lot more uptight. i agree w vere too! i love his outfit a lot also, like it's total inspo for me irl ngl! honestly, i think the reason why mhin's is so subtle is cause if you look at their design compared to the others they are the brightest palette, in the sense that they're almost completely white besides their cloak!

AYYY no don't worry about that! honestly, i liked leander because he reminded me of me! super helpful and not asking for anything in return (except this is touchstarved so what do u really want leander.. :eyes:) ALSO LOL THE SIBLING TURN OFF IS SO REAL HAHA. i'm into kpop right? so no matter how handsome josh from seventeen is i CANNOT be attracted cus he has the same name LOOL.

ahhh platonic ... i like platonic love, i really do but please gimme my wife!! i actually have a couple of fem charas in my drafts, so i won't be surprised if i start something for sen when she's released and we see more of her! also i agree, i hate the 'oh theres another woman.. shes a rival.' i dont want a rival i want a best friend or gf, the heck.

AH THE SOULLESS! yes yes, he could literally use princess to sniff u out and bring u back. thats kinda sexy. i love that. absolutely agree on leander being gaslighty and ais being controlling! eeee. i think leander would be a lil more easy to read tho, especially if he's being antsy about something. i think it's cause during the demo he kinda just lets his thoughts slip out, at least from what i remember! i think being naive and unknowing is worse, cus leander has always been leander to you, sweet and kind, if not a little clingy so why is he suddenly acting like this? type of deal.

i do write yan! i'm not the best at it though, like i think my yan!kakucho n yan!baji fics are both just awright on the yan aspect, i could've gone further especially with baji's but he's so nice in my head that i couldn't lool. i have a suuuper old yan!nightowl ficlet in my drafts that i wanted to convert to a tokrev chara, i was thinking kazutora buut we'll see. also really? i need to start using ao3 more! i have my baji fic queued but i need to put my kakucho one up too :>. if u wanna share them with me anytime i'd love to read!!!

agreed with kuras, it does mention that he's failed a ton in the past, so he's probably much more guarded now even though he's still a sweetheart! it did say sen was brought back from the dead and is seeking revenge and her own death so maybe! as for elyon, eee i usually don't like rich guys kjdsdsksdf unless u reo mikage LOL. but we'll see~

ahhh that shipping is insane omfg.. >< maybe in the future they could find a way to lower shipping prices eep.. but i know thats entirely dependent on the post office, not them. also YES I SAW THE PARTIAL VOICE ACTING KADSNFSDKFN, i already have voice claims for them in my head but ofc it's all japanese va LOL. i don't know many english vas... but i was telling my friend that mhin as paku romi's role in aot(hange) is sooo spot on in my head. just paku romi in general i assign with mhin hehe. we're actually soo close to that goal already for the animated intro!! im SO EXCITED to see the next stretch goals after we hit it!!

nahh i don't feel embarrassed haha. i've become a lot more indulgent on myself and if it doesn't hurt anyone, there's no harm in having it! i don't necessarily sleep with him because i don't want my dog to accidentally pee on it (shes a senior dog who has a lot of accidents now) but he does rest on my bed! and yes i am! i play a looot of games and as of now, one of my dream careers would be to work on a game to write lore or a character in the future! maybe make my own game? who knows! a lot of them do have inappropriate designs LOL, but there are some that are relatively sfw. i know the obey me! dakimuras just came out but i read they're super expensive.. like 100+.

LOL yeah i think mhin would say that too! they're soo serious. c'mon mhin gimme a smile, -pokes-. AND YEAH THATS kinda insane to me how fast those tiers sell!! like dang!!!

[ducknotinarow]

[07 Summer Ariel]

Ariel quirked her mouth, leant her back against the edge of Summer's bed, eyes scanning over one of many songs they had written together. The idea of performing one of them, to people outside their family, had been floated around once, or twice. But Ariel always got cold feet about the idea. Ironic, considering what she did online, but she supposes she at least has the excuse of some anonymity when it came to that.

Biting her bottom lip, Ariel soon looks up to Summer, humming slightly,

"Hey so, not saying we will, but, if you were to choose a song of ours to perform at one of those underground concert things we go to, well, which one you pick?" Ariel asked, maybe beginning to feel a little brave, "Not saying we will, just, yanno...curious."

| muse Interaction

Summer had her beautiful most prized and cared for belonging, her bass guitar. The only thing in her room that was ever properly put away and cared for. As he was idly strumming cords on Crim, what she lovingly called her bass. Short for Crimson why? well red was very much her families color after all? It was the color her papa was more associated with and his own favorite of course. Her Dad despite claiming his was green also owned quite a bit of red himself. Summer's was pink, hot pink mostly, but she always wore one of Raphael's old masks either around the arm of her jacket or tied around her wrist. The fact Crim was also Crimson had a lot to do with the choice of why Summer just had to buy her bass. She was just idly trying to find a fitting tune to work with in the moment.

Letting fingers and pick work the strings. The more deep rich low sound of her instruments often had a lot to do with the sound of the music that she and Ariel would come up with. Summer wasn't the strongest reader unless it was music notes. Though in truth a lot of what she made up was on the fly. Summer swears the music just finds her. Hard to fully explain. Trying to figure out how the sound of their current song should move though. As she replayed the bit they had and then would experiment with the bridge keeping it to the same melody sometimes switching it. Mulling it all over in her mind to try and figure out well she waiting on her sister.

Ariel was sat on the floor her back resting to the end of Summer's bed, thanks to her height though she was easily see from where Summer was sitting. She seemed deep in thought Summer just assumed it was over where they wanted to go with their current project.

Music might not fully match Summer's love for hockey but it still held a special place in her heart. Especially because it was very much her and Ariels thing. Ariel perfer vocals of course where summer was far more into the notes. Soon summer just starts to play some notes from "under the sea"

"Hey, when ya gonna post that cover?" Summer remarks deciding the lull in the creative process was more so they could use a break. As she kept messing around with notes from the same song. Summer may go brain numb from all the tomes she has had to listen about those movies, but she had to admit the songs were fun. The closest Ariel got to human interaction was from posting her covers and such and sometimes the stuff they made together. Which was why Summer always over sold her poor sisters work on her platforms whenever they were posted. With a million emojis to draw more attetion towards them. And because Summer just always needed an excuse to type out emojis.

"Could post 'his song up to when we finish it," Summer soon sighs our loudly, "but my brain is fried!" She fake whines a moment." I blame it on all the schoolwork, slowly killing my creative thoughts." As if summer had many in the first place. "Hmm, maybe we should sneak back to the underground?" Summer soon suggests "jus' ta hang out get inspired ya know? Might help?" And it was an excuse to go again even if Summer went by herself, never too long her Dad's worried after all. Butnit was more fun with Ariel.

Ariel seemed to like the idea though once Summer suggested it. Besides not loke poor Ariel got to get out and about as much compared to Summer. Even if it had to be under cover and such. Summer soon set Crim down back in the case. Shutting it and locking it up as she moved to lay over the end of her bed to get a better look at her sister. Phone in her hands as she right away went to start seeing about the underground going ons for the night.

Many of the people who often went tweeted about it and gave updates on if the times it would be operating would be different or if any if the people Summer and Ariel liked would be there.

"Hey so, not saying we will, but, if you were to choose a song of ours to perform at one of those underground concert things we go to, well, which one you pick?"

Summer lowered her phone at the mention and her head near about snapped when she looked at her sister blue hue growing in size as she slowly let her smile work over his lips.

"Not saying we will, just, yanno...curious."

Unfortunately for Ariel hypothetical did not exist for Summer.

As she moves on to her knees and scoots off the end of her bed basically falling as she scrambles to sit beside Ariel now. "I got a list!" She exclaims with bit futher explanation nor sign she understood this was meant to be taken as something that was going to happen. Summer reached under her bed soon after. Not even having to actually look where others saw nothing but a mess when looking at her room. Summer actually knew where all her things were roughly. Proven at she finally uncovered her find. She tugged hard to free her notebook.

As there seems to be some cause and effect, a few items rolling out from the side that Summer ignores.

"See if we went on a busier night I feel the more upbeat junk be betta, buuuut if it were" summers soon starts to ramble on cleaely exposing how much she has thought about this her self. Explain why certiens songs would be more fitting for the underground compared to others and how crowed size would affect how well her voice would carry in the room to fit the mood and tone as well. Soon handing over her note book with her awful bearly ligeable handwriting. Where all these thought were contained too. Till this moment that is.

"An' it seems 'ike tonight gonna be a more chill one so we can do somethin' more chill but since it's the first time I feel it betta ta show off our sound instead." Smiling bright as she waits for Ariel to see all her notes and soak in what she just said. "Whatcha 'hink?"

[libidomechanica]

But no—already runs

A sonnet sequence

               1

Were clear fount exhales in heart the presence the helmet flow’d his coal-black chords upon me, ’ cried at the arras, rich with love swearing circle weaves he spied, and doubling over my bed, circling the wine, sweeter than you. They are, but lets it sometimes, where is penn’d doth fill no eye with tapers when I can conceive; and anxious: see! I will outlive a second life, climbing thee. I could do nae mair: hers are despised thee hither that was otherwhere: she sigh’d, Sweetest of a’. Home with the three words with terrific glare, whirrs suddenly than doth he propose and gracefu’ air; i’ll see her lap.

               2

Your small hands, precisely equal to my grey hairs bid come, and with a little birds were shorn away in another veering fit, since God is wot, the maiden eyes, and I distilling fetters—the charm is broken in, the balustrade, leading went the moon up with a raucous trill. Roots are in the time with flaw-seeking is idle, biologically speaking. The bridegroom stood by a pond that hastens on things that nigh expell’d clasp’d her hand, and ten women I could he burned, ere I find no lament, no tears: thence to run in amorous plea faint through a vast antre; then takes his silver bell?

               3

One chief transgression in the stray’d it was so fast it is St. Which he stray’d it was! Late rain clings to peril and streams collecting, one is indeed wayworn; abrupt in mine, to leave to roam. Dying swells like needle-points, but, loving that was betrayal like a marble being minutes, by his while that does it indeed: and Sunne-borne Jove he bowed, and tears. Which was, to lead him, in close inquiry; from forth a little girl? But so it can’t wear it on my stoop and asked him whom abundant flame, turn’d she laugh’d, as the roads, as though, by my truth, thy constant memory of me: then can no horse is come riding two and the bride had consented to share the diamond balustrade, leading, Crime-confest, as thou with more ardency than this. Now that I mean take a look, those constant arms to join the faint charm Ah, silver light; but Thyrsis, on light. His scull will ’scape us—O felicity!

               4

Then tell me by the sand at the dream I must ne’er lover’s life: His beauty on my defects, when all my vows o’ truth so foul a lie! The lyre to see my love to another; whose emblems mix with water, some bearded barley and of the fine, neglect of wings, which I rise new maim’d to serue the knight took it on it hangs on my lips and ambers more from vse of day? The roots are in the end. Beneath the wine, a loaf of bread—and they might, this very night the Back of your bedded with the threw warm gules on Madeline: beside a streams. Still was Garden; not a friends shoreward; so to die.

               5

(Call yet once) that shall we have seen your arms? —Juliet leaning amid her within the last, with time I tied her only by her flow of rivers, nor sideways, but remember, I lay on the Sisters nine, the primrose, and so dauntless in another side to the Atlantic ocean that’s how deep! Made this work-day world, in which breakes the stores of Love are free the silence. Venus heard but the nectarous cheer, beautiful to my turf, and weary, and with the houses or with a stare; and I took a troubled sound above me and form her soft and church and shook that tells approaching ghost.

               6

My sheep. And from his knees, dreams, good or bad, hatred and waile with horseman, hawk, and catch in hottest haps that die from departing sound—he stept upon holy days: round youthful morn Hath travels yet they did aright? No more, sweet-William within me dwells a lover wrinkles; when he did, ’twas with man who have sworn deep oaths of this came round alive, and floated into the gracious lighted in cold with golden fringe upon that blow softly than the skies. Come ye in peace for us. And scorn, it seemed to like, when all the wheel of solemn height, and make church on the alarmed by the water: how!

               7

He met with piteous eye an inmate owns: the Lady of Shalott. Give most unrest; that they were her subtle food, to make their Muses entertaine, rather to the dusk below, came jasper pannel fuming stood ’mong lilies, lovely sounds fled, and on his banks of better prove, and as he forth to close inquiry; from faery land, doth the lang, yellow-leaved waterflies away, away children dear, went these toying hands and bowers? And what we escape. When the yellow woods of me, or the cords of civil comeliness, and soul from your maned lion’s gaze, who seeketh heau’nly hye? And haply of our old acquaintance tell. In the street and tremble in the grey dust up,. In the tillage of chaos. The deep Atlantic isles; or the fields of song. Glimmers that nipt my Flower sae early walk, adown a solitary felt a harder heard! Her shadowy, through the cold ran through.

               8

The sunset, or than to live not perfect storm, when through the sharpen’d slowly chilling frame? Not at the faint repeating all thy sour leisure gave sweets, which now thou now unpossible to measure is guided by the Muses; then, anew, he sink. Knot in my tongue; and by yourself to the disappear so faire store of human sounds adrift from her Hand? Knight, your little space, Say, may I sing, and nature, striue for thee thy captive state, the while another’s taut throat—it fails to this week I have laid my hands upon his forsakest a deceive! A homeward to hand like an angry powers: thence?

               9

At the saddle before him. Betwixt two marble floor. And hate, that smells, I see the heart on the birds do sing, when beauty in the ghost not surely character’d still charms of decorative dishes and limits of the air, giving to a lengthening sun. Said the throne in silent; vainly so, he look’d the stems of flesh no aching late and real the chapel aisle through the slow and what we two must bid the Dorian shepherd vest, and wing’d St. The Night; o Night and ankles white arm, and let us divided lover, compare the trees turned into a sleeping heaved the road beside my dear.

               10

Alive enough. By the dusk curtains: ’twas just above his good bits are in the worst if he delay, your lips and ambers more keen that purple fritillaries these drear than to be silent thoughts to grow. Can I not torn. Making alleys; and with blossoming plums ready to snort their marble gallery, they glide; and large coffin-worm, a table, to beseeching him, there his bettering Fish like Jewels polish’d porticos of awful package, and thou and I love so alike, that minute’s space, this very well that I have not one heart may be told; or, Pindars apes, flaunt them in the early!

               11

Our Gipsy-Scholar, was it yesterday? No mouths would die if she sat in front of that is my judgment fled, that nests were shorn away, to live; robert Burns: pale, pale as smoothest air thy silver voice with unwilling alone? Wheel and this year that is a blink is a scream. Time machine, other vice contention-tost, of men who have warm’d thee! He halted on the high Midsummer loath to conquer all my wings, till we loved, and over the others are dead than to be going hurt my days, but faces Truth and chilly on ground, when my weak voice hiss. Is, that nights, and briers! Past then never flower.

               12

Lengthened drowsily, and she lay, through your heart in such sort as, thought God could marry, if I could give no more. In muffling hand she still tis nothing; but the wheel of his, nor country yield all else? On libbard’s paws, upheld the mosses, twinkling eyes, and look at the light He force, so that swelt; and dearest gift of Heaven below thine eyes, for his strength to die; and aye my Chloris’ dearest gift of Heaven above: but, a poor Naiad, I guess we’d taken up a life that doth it steal me a peace for punishment with fire the musk carnations of the rest: o my Electra her second trial.

               13

And thus: I need not a jot own’d they shall we find one moment’s filling fern, and eat our poor Thames? And this rusty bosom’s core shall I know who she is. Save to the iron porch, that one impious word, himself on with blushing shut of day let me thence to die; and I distilling odorous. Cannot quell its heavy mind to shew how quiet death-bed over the winds her breast, sae early! Bore her heart you moved among the making no defence. Not like the young and chorus bland: for I am striving it universal freedomes be; which is true Love, why hast brought me make choices?

               14

A girl who like younger. And as through the milk-white trillium or viburnum, by all aspects that same full moon, and palpitated tow’rd his Father’s taut throat in vain; and there bright But to her down. Did lave in thy beames to give him whom all Quarters up, furious, with the sun’s returning prayer Oh leave poor mistress! I said: Go up, dear heart than music, or broadcast live on the green leaves dry. Gentle wind, a siren song, a fevered party to the coming of their wings. In the aged gossip led thou must hold; let that her waist, and the beldame starry clusters blame out of prison?

               15

Beyond a mortal in thee to march in ranks of blue crab from thee my onely as a tunnel. And all shapes, half seen through that time, and with bitterness and the better Effort lifted drowsily, and large half-mushroom, half-cheese so we could fathomless and down with my favorite vow. By all times far away? But Thyrsis and I; we still was a sound, that lo’ed her once burned in that winter storms, and mad, when they St. When birds fly, and then thy censer old, and turn up like a God in pain, into a sleeping you: home is no law for the poor credulous shade, I find no lament, no tears.

               16

And yet not rise thy prison. Full brimm’d, and true, that all is well night this way was lonely couch: twas icy, and four gray towers overlook a space he seeth a hundred swords mid looks them dry; and the three words; at last the drugstore, sipping something mutter’d in his head of doubt that down; call no more sugar’d that every sense had grinned at me. Till smiling and cause of wine. As long ago; and I want to show her once show of yet another apart That all those are half earth, descend where the linnet, aft wander’d on the ruth, the bitterness were sweet lovers. While giue thy lieutenancie to this.

               17

’, This shadow’d which she filled sight officiously. Maybe I should appear, now, when thou art so tender; but are these, handling power-tools or steering-wise rain’d hill! Fate allotted to kiss that kisses smooth the fruits of the dreadful images here represently, daily. Want belief of help from cages pull the furies join, thy voices come once more, more unseen that royal porch, they reach and she was music the sounding to move, then window, half asleep I’m ninety and the strength of laws, since Ariadne was once touch’d the deep; my grotto-sands tawny and gold, ooz’d slowly, till heart, I said; and worship alone, with another; whose touch’d the most soft amethyst, the white-wall’d town and the brambles pale it lay upon life’s head while legion’d far so woful, and love no more. Made them like a shroud, or all the sheepbell tinkles in her palsied hand to hand his lashless eyelids thin.

               18

Nor the wet leather, and leaves of wit. Studying in mid Sea reveal’d itself divine in all these founts Protean, passing gulph, and dropping with eyelids thin. Like a thrill. Around there like some branches, ’gainst the way a man but felt too much for him those holy rite for the window crossed with tears? Follow me, children, call no more, sweet lovers love that I am underneath: they desire, and leafless, yet soft and nuptials joyfully. Immortality of delight have seen that part the noisy world, baring its happy Hour, enter’d marvel of the worst tattoos in complete. There near?

               19

A gentle force, so this prophecy: The prince’s presence the hours the coronal of tender brood, that they all mov’d convuls’d and poesy. Now wide awake, the surf and triumphs gay that Women striding Alexander past the Indus with the gratefully I score: he seemed as if by instinct, the alarmed beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth that lonely ridge, the ploughboy’s team, and only twelve fairies to the air, glance but onely annoy. Piling thee this of misfortune’s eastern blast did nip a fair sooth, than with young Jeany fair, on trembling spring of my sorrows, soft hours alone!

               20

Sharp enough this sweet new world, in which tremble in mine, as all the dark. Now that same specific yesterdays into your little store of beauty I did see, back’d by this sweet hours shine afar, while one sweets that Fiery Pile? Boldly dare invade that silly sheen of icy pinnacles, and keen: save one old beldame starry clusters bright and so dauntless in dismal elemental passion, from each other doth ache. To cut the range and palace, of either may create the sea which Enna yields, and the best actors move or speak, kneel, touch, to disappointment, the three Hesperides.

               21

All other kind behest, therefore thickest mists to hear, or eyes were made purple orchises, hath since I was a sound above me and relax Pluto’s brow, but when first heaven clear, impossible in one whose passion is the vast beneath they found. Did not rest. He heard me sigh alone, for if thy looks, as childe to spare, save to go. Machine. Except for their part who like younger friend’s Muse grown of pearl. What a wretched meat and spiced woodland lilies, old Angela gives promise hast thou wilt be blest: so still delight, o what a great price we pay for it full worth: we have spent light voyage done!

               22

” He did so, still in heaven ambrosial; and we will not pass. An immortal mesh and lonely tree again! And Sunne-borne Muscouite, I called her eyes with light. As the clocks stopped. If we drop like a shroud, or a swollen tide to make a cold climate and are not evermore acknowledge might suffice that had daft his patient doves, up rose tree pavilions hale the sluggish wheels, fresh leaves. One moment with flowers, mother Cybele! In starlight glow’d; on burnish’d bliss. But are them faintly, far away, was now it seem’d that they will the fields, she sees the Farmer’s Eye; but so its inner doors ago when I do I see thee power that a catering tire by telling fern, and wake. Clings to break so great, so pure a thing of the rye, with sparkles—never, I aver, since now to the house was ever feel to arrive without one gentle limbs, and riseth from buried paths, where sleepy-ey’d.

               23

As pale it lay upon life’s headlong train;— the foamy waves roar; I see them. After a though it be you love no more soft complete a pair, hover’d with a sound of storms that death into a swamp, into stubborn streaked vases flush; the cruel knife, That he mighty Mother’s Face his own he lifted; but so its inner sight of a train His prayers for the marble shafts: there their mail and take them, needs that beauty snar’d me. Of that fiend the sky; and the roads, as the Heaven whose holy and mishap, a true retreat, when spring, the tenderest beauty I did see beauties which is true formed to love.

               24

Thou hast brought me make church on the balustrade, awake! Who knows them doe loue, with place, the Tree! The kind sea-caves! Thus loaded with you anywhere I don’t bother to the dame returning, regret. I sit and gallery, a pale, lattices, and with spongy eyes, and doubling her blue and I felt a fleeting heart raves. To muse in me. So daring in the stormy note of men who groan, which, while I will then? Sleep must take som pleasure, fie! While I am screaming reins, how rare from the sheaves, he rode down from her: nor can Juno sweet spot pillow glowed and glowed and it’s much that start into my soul!

               25

For dear love whom the night, yet, happy sight, nor sideways, but require of Heavenly guide; that every land, she linger’d still my poor mistresses, and I so wood1 that he shouldst spout a little joy the cadence of foregone Reproach abode not blue how could hope, by Cupids help, on you: nor shall live, and showers. And play: a charme of commonwealth it is to cosset, nurse, and how she nuh notice as she has talk’d full soothing rings—o let me laughed at all in Rhenish and there that brush the ever and let appear, that he wellfed wits at Camelot still brooding o’er the hush’d, in your head.

               26

The sea grows stormy note of men contentedly, and snatch the world—ah me! Crystal clear; Corinna can, with thee. Mixing her soft air along, like an ominous bird a-wing …. With him to Desire. Finger, but did spare the general gladness: awfully he stands severe before I shrug on the supperless to it must surely character’d strange similes enrich each hour, with aged eyes to see an unseiz’d heaven’s light! Like some say, for the offering me now. Yet, hadst a painful change the grows? Wad make my brand new faith of meek forgiveness; a love to wander’d o’er and glowing hair.

               27

—The charms, must be belief: anon it leads sunny beam thou should I, like a Crescent Moon, where lay a parchment on the Seventh Avenue might stretch out like young virgin lightning, and strange tales of one whose course we could wish you and I love swell, soon will tell the hours shine afar, while you will be past redress; for there, in insolent ease thyself out-going in your arms? Perhaps her warmed jewels one by one aglint with that fair demesne; so in these fancies may swim into forget more thing to richness, nectar- wine, that loveliest lie I will protest you will break thus far,— whether to the mere touch’d his blinding Devon, winding diamond balustrade, leading might knock on my doorway? And all the air, and to cedar’d Lebanon. On one white palace, Which was, to lead but one word in her empery of joys; and wings; and, ever looks on Ilsley Downs, the street, remember your little girl?

               28

Page redacted, your little Sail, and, all attends but death-day of sacrifice: though their surly eyes be muffled lattices, and for their Lips. The Lady of Shalott. They waste the stream: against that spotless breast, So we who bear A poor, weak, paranoid. My sun-burnd brain. In the mere touched this kissing, drunk as a honeysuckle. At will find her chanting crew; tis Phillis, that follow where the sea. And melon, yellow broom. Such permanence is this armour rung, nor look we like name of the night, when thro’ the sinks adown the town, singing a language you don’t under. The charm is broken sky.

               29

The straight, have your touching things of talk from tombs, and striving it was a whelming solitude. Still as a bar of iron. No snow I dreamed the rocks, and I’ll say that ye may love exclaim—yet, just beyond Description beauty no pencil, beauty of herbes or beasts would save his rome, when down swung the wall. For a map doth Nature form’d to serue the knight to choke. When this close of Troilus and knocking his words; for the man in pink but she goes who had begun to this is she so fair whose wings, for many a dusky empires. Upon the surf and trembled; she nothing said, at that beneath the house with public kindness’ sake grieved so I am hard to habitual self! Cupids a slumber thou wilt force himself upon you, and yet many more, still as their bliss to breed distrust and dim, these toying hands in hall, doth moue. The mortgage was foreclosed. A way of error, a temples.

               30

Against an endless pleasant sense, upon Salámán all her balmy gales away, my love, but, ’tis the trees turn up like a pair who for fresh green sea up to the cowslips grew, when lo! I have fleet steeds that they see. Lords, who have tied these hallways. Beside their own instinct tis doubtful how and of the blue-bell and far, that o’er the vainest things do not bid old Apollo, could rejoice in my books anoint me, and far upward could that one consuming flame—o let no buzz’d whispering, his watching eyes; if all our tale were a room to rent I would be more it can’t feel pain, yearning, regret.

               31

Some bowers we sigh and triumphs gay the level chamber for it seem’d he never miss home-talk and blood, and thou, then for they are gone, he rode all asleep; where the world. Month, your gifts apply, as once studded with pervading brilliance and bleed. And smil’d at the lawful magic, and enter’d marvel then, keen lessons that grows; a schoolboy? When they read her name, was it yesterdays into a shady brink, thou might’st forget the lines abrupt in middle of thy sweet city with horrid presence when it nurse of thy love her, and lovely all things beside me from moonlight, the grass! Sir Lancelot.

               32

At first, for sinners’ sake grieved I, who came the fresh leave poor craven black, to mumble o’er his nested young Jeany fair, so from the casement shone so bright-hair’d daughter sleep our eyes fix’d on Camelot: and some spring again young travels yet they had suffered shipwreck with reconciling with this upland dim, these days, but from its earthward he goes—he stops—his bosom assail, but is his old grief. Tis not me? With answered echoes of a great carouse knocks hard upon the same; the swallow’s twitter, came a ruin: side by side the first that inspired. The path of loue. The window, Sweet!

               33

Shut, shut those dusk hill-side, a red tinge, with such restraint, with all her fall; she can restore thrice-seen love, and early, hears her every bar; but faithless racers whose constancy, and, pitcht upon his hair. Thou greybeard, old Wisdom! Since, this upland dim to wild uncertain kind of suffered shipwreck with a sound above the fall of tacks around her smooth, and say, thoughts of golden hair, as I went an Angel’s wings; Ah, silver: sumptuous they roam, by creeks and architraves; the life I can’t see the castle where and space. And flap those same that churl Death’s untimely frost, these very deeps of pleasure, fie!

               34

But so it did, with a hey, and he in these good survive I forget thee against that hour. While one his story up into the living maid. Awakening on its lonely couch: twas icy, and courteous, nor casts his nested young shade. Admiral’s mast? And the Gods and rue, and with calm-planted slope in thy vassal blest? Headlong train;— the foam, from every human life: his youth in his sleep. The caverns for this. Cast on my defects, when I hear my voices. Make a corona of new color, visible, glancing through a hazy wood, I saw and knowing well to trust, fair creatures’ Eyes.

               35

Beyond, on like to touch to heart, her heart, smile on its golden fringed in a time do I ensconce me half earth, to show false Art what is love appear, now, when through the middle, there lay that fairest maid of the air stretch them, needs with spongy eyes, where its possibility poised at some bold seer in a witch’s life: his young love’s madness. Filling alone; for, like a swimming further and his weapons lay, glad if for he fled into the murmuring surge. To serue the knights, and opposite sent force along the shine with meeker beames, and be wisely wanton eyes dote, what please that bad his death; such conviction come down, uncertain tribal figures watching on his head of land—alone? Will more paine. Said he, why should be engulphed in thy guide in amorous pairs to covert nest a little grey church on the sun is gone, and nowe imploy the referee. What a mortgage was forced backward.

               36

A sovereign quell is in a desert wild. I know her worth! And wrinkles; when every guest had felt too much that’s how deep! While the tillage of the cadences melting to reclaim her wild air; still nobler agony to kiss that them; I cannot rue the sluggish wheels, fresh repair if now that weeps. Listening by, sail and mishap, a true retreat, when I heard but they were firm, the wane— and wake. Stands superb to share them for malice show no face, what are the sea-snakes coy excuse will outlive a gilded cheat! But, as fearful roar, streams thy purity—no Cupid pinion in reverend ghost away.

               37

Follow heat recall more seldom that religions can invade that went. Spangled, and that when first minutes? Came louder, and beauty’s sovereignties—these dreary cavern wind me in all of tacks around their rayes to such a day of empires. From your marvelousness, a love the maples for this misty peak, with which the Sorrow vsing minutes, by silk seats insphered table, to brood on without his sacred majesty; and heraldries, her window-pane. No more, still region all he had only in the broad heard with my favorite vow. Pass by— she heed of morn, spun off a drizzling sun.

               38

The church on the fretted splendid dyes, the mountains, save Love’s most gentle Goddess of the Stripling, howsoever Late or Early, like Vulcan’s rainbow-sided, or a swollen tide to margin, and how true my lady’s purpose. Tried to ashes; whatever dies, was nothing the door; flattering trust to this way, this with vision Venus sends of supernatural sympathy, universe of day, veil’d, in your arms? Now that I were rippling round about her man on my knee. But I know how can we find the priest; shut stand on alone with that kiss, warm between the spring; and both together, lady of Shalott. To where is no words played between the mist of passed years: for Nature smiled, sheenless wood of suffered shipwreck with any pleasure’s nipple; and has been sighing, while Twilight was falling, the amazement, the If and Why I love against us if we drop like a dream away?

               39

—He stopp’d not stay because God meant mankind. Descend where the city, and cast a frown on your face by me be darkening from a sorrows whence all the sky. Crowns the helmet on, engineer boots like needle-like shreds of a burning glow grew still as the mountains break and shower heal’d up through then I shall answers I am now, With Time’s injurious and sweetly doth sit: o let me run, let us fly these sorry pages; then, anon, the water chilly room with your helmet on, engineer boots like the sand-hills, at the Kingdom that do Wide sea, that his words, and I’d plunge home!

               40

Such conviction come down! No snow I dream, my bride! I can love depends; so dost thou affright a peerless to covert, pleasure such agonies should rise and give him whom my soul, and silent though the fountain to stay. It seem’d a horrid presence in wild forests; and woods, and in it, he saw the gift of Heaven the moonlight, by the heavy body wound. Love comes, adoring crown. Let us away! That music of thy rustic dance at all with thy divine! These English fields, she willing breeze: the day, the youngest of thy treasure, fie! Stifle thine eyes dote, what wrong has he became china.

               41

I could not do—the pillar; we saw her clear: from wicked men like toes. Wait here, at any hour; now seldom come back of Gau and Mahi descended, and I laugh awhile, I’ve mickle time that speech is the tears; Get hence! And in my breast they say; come! A bud which others feet have tied her on the windy shore, the clouds and will shade of deep sleep opprest and new. Or if thy deep kindness, or may I sing, when soft slumber when to bring away the breath least begin less never a hall such a grasp of the upright make the sad look of Jove—Minerva’s started, and then come, without one measure!

               42

The shepherd-prince, what was being sips such a mournful winding Triton’s bright-beaming, her eyes and in her Collar; but build a castle where now no azure hue, ready to melt; the deepness of the acres of green the year, I walked, nearly strange, when tremble through the sunset through ashes cold. A fortress foiled, which, let’s be honest faithless man! My soul, and soothing low at first, came mother’s desired, and the gloom: down, down! In early morning. There lay the trees. Too rare, grow now my visits here am I in these hallways. Tending for their ways; I sit and garlands gay, he stept upon them!

               43

Who, if not I, for questions they may ache in icy hoods and fill’d his head. And waving, either region; nor bright with sick unto dying but thou art all the air; ilk features to grace since I came with that looks his sacred majesty, and stream, whereon without all is dead. Come be my skull is too crowded and a voice like melodies are in this fairy journeying to Phoebus’ shrine, and thirst of blessings in a desert, and are not endurance, but burn—that doth it steal away from me; all the music should be jealous by the three steps, before the torment’s filling to uprear love’s eye be true, you shalt not here; false-flatt’ring slaves, and far upward eyes are stretching red sunset, which descent; and stream hurry distracted from the nicest touch them to his arm-chair sit, with a fright of every bar; but oh! And when I’m there flew without a gap, yet ne’er love like the Soul was still green.

               44

A school girl. Body of bones that I mean take a fancies may swim into forget you presence. Where, all so huge the gold plates he asked only twelve gold-dusted snapdragon, sweet lovers love the cannot take som pleasures give: to me it seems to love be love. Were clos’d themselves whole again that hastens on things come to make us wish away, and lucent syrops, tinct with piteous appeal: more, more near at once: for loss of heau’n, and be liege-lord of all the light. And so dauntless in dismal elements the early walk, adown a fear lest any part should for ever? Through that kills me hence.

               45

Then the water-side, a troop of Oxford hunters going home, as in old days that beach we could breath in the fleshly eye, that spell affright therefore wilt thou? With fretwork, streamlet o’er these blacked-out window and yet I have you don’t bother to the crystal stream, across the upbreathing quiet in the battlements of old! It was a cruel man and shrieks—all dimly fades into yon farther love like Heaven with thee troubled coronal; and we can but felt the tables stood, we said, our friend than wolves and go their little doll children dear, were spirits need them not; their anxious for the floor. Strange!

               46

—At these stones;—the kernel of hell, the sparrow beside my dearest charm touch raptur���d! In the splendour of each night may have mark’d each line, of velvet leave to take a fancies, patient doves, up rose their breast, when fires shall dearly rue my very that follow but tragedy is simple joy or fear. These poor craven bridegroom said never ranging, I adore in the sad look of his woe-worn minutes slowly from their own instinct tis to feel! Which holds yfeer the Outward shows of bees buzz from this new-appearing an old book, and golden mysteries by rule and sacrifice, which we cast not rob all other day I went an Angel came: below the sapphire columns, or fantastic round youthful Thames shore? While my sweet memories like petrel on their changed magic to the general gladness: awfully, till our tale were the window crossed long the prelude soft; That ancient Beadsman’s force.

               47

Left in midnight like a Bow, but when to bring throng’d resort vnto that makes a son leap in the noon-sun, with short was thine: the blossoming peach thine honied wings of delicate and rocked to awakened flies were made a serpents; ravishment, queen Venus leaning down to Camelot. Stuck in a time do I ensconce me half so ill, to drink a draught of sorrows airy, beneath towers smothering tire by telling frame? The gods ordain’d this misery most divine? In winged speed no more! Of joys; and life, climbing thee true, making not think forward to follow where he straight did not come out.

               48

True Love hath my bones to and built a house alone. She smile and meanwhile I break thus found. When thro’ the first time, I was a bonie, bonie Bell. While you wring you: home is none: ’tis the windy shore, down which reachest but to atone for endless as they catch in hottest haps that draws a virgin’s bower, where Mahler wrote his frosted breath the wine has done its rosy deed, and front death lodge the life, the gods in? And they stand upon a sandy plain, without a twinkling eyes, sweet myrtle sicken’d in his exile; where, the Tree! Thought I would comfort my day, and shook the dooming plums ready to snort their sweet.

               49

Instead of the woman and yet the song is the sounds convey what dying tone came love of other kind behest, through wilderness were open, but amaze no more? The shore: but finding passage cast to the breezes, bowery lawns, and hope, by Cupids watching a human trammel up and snare your nipple, can find, aspire to show her woof, her temple full fringe upon the citied earth, to share is another stand upon the dull shade, I clasp thee there than to weep and pray for the end of the longest day—when garden step, he came heavily again, and give her just the whole again.

               50

And mosses that very shape of mine with your glorie shines a ioy from me again that footsteps told, without sharp sleet against thy repose; hyena foemen’s eyes; the misery, worse than a hermit’s fast—that if every mysteries of heroic touch most death from upper day thou art my ioyes for those blots that shall I be left so sad, so melancholy, so bereft! Feeling skill, I paint through the floor’s cold and stately. Said the tyrannie; and for this delight have plugged up my sockets to keep the stones;—the key turns, and tender care hath set. But that I have tied the door; she will come again!

               51

What shall see despite, fool, said my Muse to roam. Fine, enam’ling with the year, my desire shallop flitteth silken couch of callous and nail—sit on the present time, you hear your city you wouldst mount up to with meaning. Under the two Hinkseys nothing we want. To search it inward nobleness,—not like to spare, reflecting, mimick’d the grows? What does contain’d canopied, lay an untasted feast until I cried an orbed diamond bright, his fiercer by a fear that waited tiptoe divine, she knew his Face; he saw this year that he willing through all the lintel of the rye, with a hey, and thirst, my Julia, that the bough. Of bitter weeds or flowers, your wood sang and all its little grey churchmen starue. In further back, my love, than sighs was quiet in the cold retreat of sorrows, the facts. Dear, did weep over his reputed Son? Floated wide; the visions wide: whose very pangs.

               52

Of yet another kind beheld stella: now she is beauty snar’d me. And because her bed, but the wind; in winged guide, until I cried an orbed diamonded with glowing surely she will, ’twould soar and silken couched then thy censer, put in fire, and we will know, and how true my lady in his feet went swift extremity cannot reached a splendid dyes, nor look back at her but don’t bother the dressing—table cluttered syllable, or, woe betide! Hands could make us wish away, to live not only by her glade; and if I guess’d his empty the houses or with wide eye he wonders rare; and by thy pregnant led to where thou ask proof? Contrary unto reason doubtful tale from the more dear. Let me laugh awhile! Swift as a tunnel. My breath not see within a dream before. Robert Burns: pale, pale now, there is soft complete a pair, hover’d and she wrote, I hate and rich with light.

               53

What dying in your face that heat running out the bonie lass he lo’es me best of a’. If I have your vacuum cleaner breathing its tenderest be, now wide awake, for a moment’s space, and also a private place, with her going. Up among the guests; but, finding Devon, wilt thou art why should be us, and the gloom: down, down, and from their rest, in loveless bounding thee. Like Jewels polish’d porticos of awful richness, nectars—alights, for with short breath, whose emblems mix with wide-arched way, and all nigh he halted on their change that’s fine to sence, what eyes were Creature? But far from his throne, and chaste of river side watching across the door. Secret sisterhood may see, when down swell’d it forth to joy have your head toward me over the consecrations of sleep. Richly aromatic scale—i only recognize her golden mystery, and chaste of river rinses the dashing forward.

[hlizr50]

Elorcan Week Day 3 - Shirt Shorts

Celebrating the many uses of Lorcan's shirt!

This fic for @elorcanweek2022 was written from a prompt from @mercarimari

Place It On My Shoulders

Read on AO3 (comments appreciated and loved and coveted)

The first thing Lorcan noticed was how small she looked, her body bent to fit neatly within the frame of the window. Her slender arms enfolded her knees, and he knew that beyond the waterfall of silken midnight she was resting her cheek on one of them, her fathomless dark eyes gazing out over the now-empty battlefield. A killing field that the two of them had been helping to clear of the dead for the last three days. She should be exhausted - sleeping - but she hadn’t even changed out of her gown, and though his breeches tightened remembering the sight of her in something finer than leather and linen smudged with blood and dirt, his dark brows bunched in concern.

That Elide Lochan, indomitable Lady of Perranth and hero of the Battle of Orynth, hadn’t even made an effort to appear that she had even tried to sleep… that small vulnerability gripped his heart.

“I thought you were going to bed,” he murmured, and she started even though his voice had been barely a breath in the night. The colossal male barely gave her a chance to look up, striding over and sweeping her up in his arms. His tiny bride-to-be - a title with which he was still incandescently thrilled and likely irritatingly smug - didn’t even make a sound, though her arms circled his neck and clutched herself tightly to him, as if she was afraid he might disappear.

“Elide,” he whispered, his worry gnawing at him as he carried her into the bedchamber of the sprawling suite. He had teased his warrior Lady that he was lucky to be marrying rich, which had earned him the most delicious, scrunched-nose scowl and a tiny punch to the shoulder. The room was dark, but his fae eyes led them straight to the bed. “I’m going to set you down so I can get us some light. But I won’t be far, and I’ll be quick.” Lorcan felt the need to reassure her, unnerved by the way she so desperately clung to him. But her chin dragged against his chest as she nodded wordlessly, and he pressed a kiss to her brow before placing her on the edge of the mattress.

As he moved through the rooms, lighting enough candles and oil lamps for Elide’s human eyes to see, she still did not utter a single word. When he stopped in front of her she did not look up, expression vacant and eyes distant, and the dark-haired fae wondered if she may be ill or experiencing some sort of delayed shock from the violence and death she’d witnessed these past days… weeks and months, too.

“Elide. My cunning little warrior,” he breathed, kneeling before her and cupping her face in his broad hands. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked, beautiful midnight gaze finally focusing on him. “There you are.” He smiled gently and she whispered his name, a breath of a prayer, her tiny fingers curling around his wrists.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Lorcan brushed onyx strands away from her face, the tendrils having strayed from the rivers of blackest night that flowed over her shoulder. Her focus shifted slightly, eyes darting toward the window.

“I–” Elide’s voice cracked, as if she hadn’t spoken in hours. The fae male dragged his thumbs across her cheeks in encouragement as she swallowed and tried again. “I can’t seem to relax. I know the war is over. I know the danger is past, that Morath is no longer a nightmare looming over my shoulder. That Vernon is dead and I’ll never feel the cold weight of chains on my ankles and wrists.”

It was all Lorcan could do to contain the dark power writhing within him, desperate to break free. It should have concerned him, this desire to watch the world burn for nothing more than the fact that this human woman had not been given the life she deserved. But he knew his fury was warranted - found solace within the rightness of how it felt to be so utterly dedicated to her vengeance and her protection.

Her shoulders rose and fell with a shuddering sigh, and he could feel the tension in her body. Lorcan’s heart cracked when silver glimmered along her lashes. “I’ve been in survival mode nearly as long as I can remember. And I–” Elide choked on her words, and he slid a palm down to her neck, his thumb skating along her jaw. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to pull myself out of that. I don’t want to be afraid forever, Lorcan.” The demi-fae leaned forward, capturing the tear that had escaped against his lips. Then he pressed them gently to Elide’s petal-soft ones and began working deftly at the laces of her bodice. Then he bent to lift the hem of her skirt.

“Can you stand, Elide? Only for a moment, love.” He didn’t have time to cringe against the endearment that would normally feel so foreign and contrived against his tongue. All the dark male knew was that she needed the encouragement, which appeared to work as she slowly rose, allowing him to pull her gown up over her head. Lorcan dropped it atop the bed linens and then gripped his tunic at the back of his neck, pulling it off in one languid, graceful pull. He commanded softly, “Arms up,” as he turned the sleeves the right side out, promptly sliding the billowing sleeves down Elide’s slender arms and letting the garment fall into place, swallowing her to her knees. It had been a revelation, seeing her in one of his shirts for the first time. The sight could bring him to his knees, and yet made him feel like the most powerful male. The wave of possessiveness had been feral and nearly unhinged, and that remained the same now, woven with protectiveness and devotion. Knowing she was so strong, in such a tiny, breakable body… it was often nearly too much to experience all at once.

And how could he forget that she loved wearing it too. She had told him, not long after they had given themselves to each other for the first time, that she would rather wear his tunics than anything else. That the scent of him reminded her that she was safe and loved, and that she could hide her body from wandering eyes and still know that he would know everything that was beneath it. It was that security and adoration that she needed now, and he was glad to sacrifice a shirt to help with that. He swept her up and tossed her dress to the floor, earning a half-hearted grumble as he pulled back the blankets and climbed onto the mattress, cradling his fragile, incredible woman close as he leaned back against the headboard.

“Elide,” he murmured as he tucked her head under his chin and wove his fingers into her silken locks, “even if you weren’t one of the bravest, strongest people I’ve ever known, you would not have to be afraid. You will never be alone again, and I will protect you with all that I am. Let go of your fear. Place it on my shoulders. It is no longer your burden to carry.” The trembling in her taut muscles eased as he combed through her hair, fingertips grazing her back, but she was still wound so tightly, her body unable to recognize that there was no looming threat. But Lorcan thought maybe he knew a way to ease her body and her mind. Grasping her waist, his fingers almost touching as they circled her, he lifted her and turned her to face him, gently placing her back down so her lovely pale thighs were straddling his, a luscious contrast of milky white against supple black leather.

As arousing as the position promised to be, his never-waning desire for her was not part of this moment. This was about Elide - his Elide - and the safety he was determined for her to feel. He held her jaw between his hands, tilting her face up to look at him. Silent tears trailed down her cheeks, but his breath caught when he looked into her shimmering onyx eyes. Through the wetness they shone with such staggering trust that it threatened to steal his breath entirely. To be gifted with such a thing from this woman, who had suffered so much by those who should have earned it easily…

“What are you thinking?” he wondered aloud, his stare boring into her very soul, his heart overflowing with love and light. Things he never thought he would experience. Would deserve. Lorcan kissed her, reveling in the warmth and softness of her lips. “Do you feel safe with me, Elide?” Her tiny, delicate hands rested against his bare chest and slid their way to the back of his neck.

“You are the only person who has ever made me feel safe. Since my parents died,” she answered, a ghost of a smile tilting her mouth. Lorcan moved his hands to her shoulders and began kneading his fingers into them, working against the tension. Her thick lashes fluttered as her eyes closed, her mouth releasing a sinful groan as her head tilted back. And he couldn’t help but chuckle. His arms moved under hers and he began massaging down the the rest of her back.

“Let it fall away, Elide,” he encouraged, leaning in to press tender kisses to the column of her exposed throat. “You are home, in Terrasen. The war is over. You are safe. You are home and surrounded by people who love you and will protect you.” As he worked further down, Elide leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his middle as she burrowed her face into his neck.

“And you have a male at your side who loved you before he even knew what love was. He is a dark, menacing thing, but he will be forever devoted to your protection and your happiness.” She sank into him, her body melting against him as it finally began to relax as he continued to work her muscles and murmur gently to her. Her head shifted slightly, and he felt her lips at the base of his neck.

“I never knew you had such a talent for beautiful words.” Her voice was muffled against his skin, but when he laughed in response he could feel her body shake with a tiny giggle, and the worry that had coiled around his heart began to ease. Lorcan’s palms found the flesh of her thighs and stroked up and down. Slowly. Tenderly. A gentle lover’s caress.

“You needed them,” he replied, the answer obvious to him. The warrior would always be gruff and intimidating. He would likely scowl too often and growl in frustration far too much for what would be expected from the Lord of Perranth. But he would sacrifice his intense reputation and fall upon his knees - be regarded as a simpering fool by the world - if it meant that Elide would be comforted and treasured. Her lips whispered a ‘thank you’ against his skin, and he wound his arms around her, holding her close as her breaths became longer and deeper. Until she finally succumbed to the exhaustion that she had been fighting, likely for days. Lorcan untangled himself from her, careful not to wake her as he slid her onto the bed, and then quickly stood, stretching his arms over his head to remove any kinks from the position he’d been bent into. He plucked Elide’s discarded dress from the floor and draped it over the back of the chair before the fireplace, his own breeches joining it a moment later. With a casual flick of his power he doused the candles and the lamps, the room falling into darkness as he climbed into bed and curled himself around his beautiful Lady, her hands instinctively curling around his arm even in her sleep. And with a smile that he showed so few he pulled her tightly against him and whispered into her hair, “I love you, Elide.”

@headcanonheadcase @mystical-blaise @ofduskanddreams @tealnymph-writes @vikingmagic33

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

Part #2

Read part #1 here

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Sometimes both sides are in the wrong.

Warnings: More angst, mentions of substance, gaslighting!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests!

(Y/N) isn’t one to feel jealous easily.

When she dated a certain boy from her school a few years ago, she wasn’t even phased when she had found him kissing another girl at a party.

She simply didn’t care.

But the aching feeling in her when she saw her current boyfriend sniffing a line on the back of a random girl with the perfect house and the perfect clothes and the-

“(Y/N), do you want to come down to the beach with us?”

(Y/N) finally looks up from her novel in which she wasn’t even reading in the first place. Her mind was somewhere else, and her thoughts weren’t put in the context of the book.

“No. I’m not feeling well.”

JJ sighs, fixing his cap backwards and placing himself beside her. He looks over her lap, reading the first few lines of the book his sister’s reading and sighs. 

“I never read, so I do not understand how this whole novel thing works. But I’m pretty sure reading about getting over a breakup won’t do you any good.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, snapping her book with a shut. The last thing she ever wants is for JJ to lecture her. She had enough bawling her eyes the past 2 weeks. 

“What time are you supposed to go again? Go.”

She’s grateful, of course, for JJ. He was there for her the whole 2 weeks when she didn’t feel like eating or taking a shower or anything that involved getting out of the bed.

But she feels better now, her hair perfectly up in a hairdo and the red color of her cheeks returning.

She’s not sad anymore.

The feeling evolves into anger.

Of course, (Y/N).

You’re nothing but a pogue.

If there’s one thing Obx is famous for, that will be the annual bonfire. It’s an excuse for every teenager on the island to let loose and to free themselves after a year of studying.

For (Y/N), it’s just another party for Rafe to ignore her.

But she’s not coming down to the beach with him a few distance away, hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s coming.

“What the fuck! You told me you’re not coming,” JJ laughs, giving his sister a side hug. “You look good. You don’t look pale anymore.”

“I’m gonna be sick if you keep saying nice things to me,” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, though her insides are beaming. JJ has always been her number one supporter, and she loves her brother with all her heart.

“Just don’t go to the other side of the beach, okay? All your friends are here.”

And we’re back to him protecting her.

She gets it, really, but she doesn’t feel like a night full of JJ and his friends becoming some sort of bodyguards to her.

The last thing she ever wants is for Rafe to think she’s still weak.

“J, I know.”

He holds both of his hands up, “I’m just saying. I’m by the fire if you ever need me, okay?”

It’s funny how the boy who cried to her over his scraped knee is the same boy who’s trying his best to protect her. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, all (Y/N) and JJ has is each other. 

(Y/N) walks to the music booth, getting so tired over the same artist being played over and over again. She doesn’t feel like listening to Drake all while trying to forget a certain brunette boy from the back of her head.

“Hey, can I get something different? Play the Euphoria soundtrack if you must. Anything other than the songs you’re playing.”

The DJ looks up to her and gives out the widest grin. (Y/N) tries to look away from the charming smile, but her eyes are glued to a pair of blue ones.

“Not a fan of Drake?”

“Nah.”

“Why? Trying to move on from an ex?”

She gulps, “No. Just have a good taste in music.”

The guy licks his teeth, “Touche. The name’s Nate.”

(Y/N) gives him a small grin, “Hm. Can we change the song now?”

Nate raises a brow because god; no one has ever disregard him. 

There’s something about the girl.

“Is Party In The USA good enough for you, princess?”

Her breath hitches. The last time someone has ever called her princess was probably a few weeks ago. 

This is not helping her to get over him.

“Whatever. You’re the DJ, right?” she answers, turning on her heels. “Oh wait, Nate?”

He smiles at her again, and (Y/N) has the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Don’t call me princess. You’re not my boyfriend.”

For the past 40 minutes, no Drake song has been playing. The crowd begins filling the empty space in the middle to dance with each other, and (Y/N) has to look away from the couple getting close and leaving kisses down each other’s necks.

She makes her way down to the drinks counter to get herself a beer because she really doesn’t feel like watching another friend of hers kissing their partners while sober. She decides that if she has to stay for another hour of people making out with each other, it’s better if she’s intoxicated.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) turns her back, expecting to see a drunk friend of hers, but the sight of the same DJ from before greets her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not asking you to change the music.”

“I know, I guess I started off wrong just now. Let me reintroduce myself. You deserve to know the real me.”

(Y/N) laughs, because this whole thing sounds like something out of a corny Netflix movie. He’s cute, sure, but she’s just not interested.

He removes the beanie he’s been wearing all night, revealing a blonde buzz cut underneath. (Y/N) tries not to stare.

Okay. Screw cute. He’s handsome. 

“Hi, I’m Nate. I’m from New York, and I just moved here.”

She smiles, finally, because he fits the exact image she has of every male teenager in New York. Blonde buzz cut, an unbuttoned blue shirt with a peak of his toned body underneath, and a pair of red shorts. 

A new kook.

“Nate, your kind and I don’t match. You’re a kook.”

He scrunches his face, “They’ve been telling me that shit since the first week I’ve been here-” he steps closer, and (Y/N) can smell his expensive cologne. It’s not the same one she favors on Rafe, but it’s close. “-don’t tell me you believe that stuff.”

Oh.

She grins, “I’m not rich, Nate.”

“So?”

Oh.

“The name’s (Y/N),” she smiles, extending her hand. Nate beams, because finally, after a whole night of watching her from his booth, she finally expresses the most beautiful smile there is. 

“(Y/N), I feel like we’re going to get closer soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m not a Drake’s fan either.”

. . .

(Y/N)’s hesitant. 

She doesn’t believe him in one bit, not even when he flashes her the most charming smile ever. 

But he’s not afraid to show her off. She went on a date with him a few nights ago, and she distanced herself from him upon the entrance of the restaurant.

“What the fuck are you doing? C’mere.”

(Y/N) looked up to him, “You don’t have to stay near with me.”

Nate turned to her with a confused expression. “Why? I’m buying you dinner, remember?”

He held her hands in his, and she let him.

Nate pokes her side and suppresses a giggle when she yelps from the sudden touch. He fails, however, when she falls from his bed onto the floor. 

“You’re too ticklish,” he says and helps her up to her feet. Her eyes wander to the band posters on his wall again, being so amazed and surprised by this boy’s taste in music and movies.

“I don’t even listen to half of the bands you listen to,” she says finally, pulling herself down to the empty space beside him. “Do you know who’s Ariana Grande?”

Nate rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha. No. I don’t. Is she the one who sang Despacito or something?”

(Y/N) laughs and her heart suddenly soars. She feels at ease, and there’s lightness in the air, even when they’re in public.

(Y/N) stands up, taking the full room into view again, and walks to the shelf full of pictures of Nate and his family. There’s a picture of him in a soccer jersey, a picture of him playing the drums and then an electric guitar, and-

“Oh my god, is this your girlfriend?” (Y/N) exclaims, picking up a photo frame with a beautiful brunette girl smiling back at her. “She’s so pretty.”

“(Y/N), put it back,” Nate rolls his eyes, standing up from the comfort of his bed and walking towards her. (Y/N) laughs, liking the way his eyebrows scrunch in distress and hides the photo frame behind her.

“(Y/N). . . I’m not playing.”

“No one is playing, Nate,” she laughs, taking a few steps back as he motions forward. “I can’t believe you have a sweetheart back in NYC, Nate.”

“(Y/N), put it back.”

(Y/N) pulls a confused expression, “Put what back?” she brings the frame forward, and expressed a fake sigh. “Oh, this? I was just checking this out-” Nate charges for her and she squeals, running towards the end of his room and watching as he runs in her direction. She panics, looking around for a place to hide, and as her eyes meet his bed, Nate has the same idea in his head.

He pushes her over his bed so she topples over, the frame still in her hands. She yelps, leaving the frame alone and using both of her hands to push his chest away. 

Nate hovers over her, being so close he can smell her sweet scent now, and she looks so good under his yellow lights and in his bed and that goddamn smirk on her face-

“Is she your girlfriend, Nate?”

“None of your concern, princess,” he answers. Her eyes snap down to the cross dangling from his neck, and he can’t do this anymore; not when she looks so pretty under his gaze.

(Y/N) can feel the sudden change in the air now, and the chasing game they’ve been playing suddenly doesn’t look like a chasing game.

He’s like a predator waiting to attack. 

(Y/N)’s eyes look up to him again. “Is she your girlfriend?”

And he connects his lips with her. She gasps from the sudden touch, but after a few seconds, he can feel her kissing him back. 

And for once, she feels okay again. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her and letting his warmth engulfing her.

She feels at peace.

“Rafe,” she whispers, letting the blonde boy trails down to her neck.

Nate pulls away, his lips sore and red after their brief makeout session.

Chest heaving, he steps away. “Rafe?”

(Y/N) sits up, groaning and fixing her hair. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t mean that, Nate, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Nate pulls a disgusted face, and it’s the same look Rafe had put in the party a few weeks ago to her and she can feel herself losing again. 

“I’m going out. You can stay here if you want.”

“Nate-”

The door closes behind him, and (Y/N) groans. 

Way to go, (Y/N).

. . .

She hates how bad she feels for Nate.

He has been nothing but a total sweetheart to her, and there she was; moaning another guy’s name and letting him walked out of his own home.

So that’s the core reason as to why she’s standing outside of his house at 10 p.m. on a Friday, letting the heavy rain soaks her whole outfit because of course she would forget to bring an umbrella.

She knocks again, with her fists this time, because she’s certain he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she’s afraid his father or mother would open the door but after remembering how they’re going to be away for a business trip, she sighs in relief. 

The door opens midway of her banging on the door, revealing a shirtless Nate with nothing but green sweatpants complimenting his legs.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he groans, tugging her arms in and closing the door after her. (Y/N) attacks him in a tight hug, slightly shivering from the cold rain outside, and after a few seconds, Nate hugs her back.

“You’re okay?”

“Can we talk in your room?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

(Y/N) doesn’t let him give any excuse and she pulls him into the living room, but before she can reach the space, he pulls her to a halt.

“Hey, we can’t go there, I’m kinda, um, doing something. What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “Nate, I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it when I called you someone else’s name and that’s the stupidest thing I ever did but please don’t go, okay? You’re all I have.”

Nate laughs, “God, you’re really worried about that? I get it, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is, really. But tell me one thing, though-” he pulls her arms, and pins her against the wall. (Y/N) smiles, staring into his blue orbs. “Is this Rafe more handsome than me?”

“Hey man, we really can’t wait-” a voice starts from the direction of the living room, and before (Y/N) can move away, the voice rings again. “Ah. Of course.”

Oh my god.

She misses him too much. His hair is messier than ever, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. (Y/N) wonders how many lines he did, but judging from the distant look in his eyes, she’s guessing a lot.

“Rafe,” she whispers, getting closer to the boy she missed and letting his smell engulf her. 

“Rafe?” Nate quirks a brow because this isn’t making any sense. Why would she called his friend the name-

Of course.

Rafael is Rafe.

So this is the guy.

His childhood friend is ‘the Rafe’ of the girl he’s starting to fall for.

After so many hours of trying to find the Rafe she accidentally called him, he hadn’t thought of his own childhood friend to be the guy all along.

Growing up, he have been told to call him Rafael up until the day he moved to New York. 

He can’t believe it.

“Rafe,” she calls again, this time following Rafe out to the living room. “Rafe, listen to me.”

“You moved on too fast.”

“I haven’t moved on, Rafe, fuck, I swear I haven’t,” she expresses. “Please. Listen to me.”

“You were mad at me for doing a line from some bitch’s back and you’re, you’re o-out here, under my own fucking friend’s arms and- did y’all fucked?”

“What?” she gasps, “God, Rafe, no. No. I will never fuck anyone other than you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe raises a brow and lets out a shrill laugh. “God, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can, Rafe,” she steps forward, trying to reach his face with her cold fingers. The anger she felt before suddenly dissipates into the thin air because god, she did not realize how much she has been missing this boy more than anything in the world.

Her everything.

Rafe flinches away, “Stop. Do you know how miserable I am the past few weeks without you?”

“Don’t turn this on me now, Rafe.” “And you’re out here with fucking Nate Hamilton. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Rafe, it’s not like that,” Nate suddenly steps in, and (Y/N) gives him a warning look not to say anything more. He ignores her, “Are we not going to talk about how you disregard her just because of her status on this fucking island?”

“God, always with your equality shit,” Rafe groans. “You guys deserve each other. I can’t believe you will ever do this to me, Nate.”

What hurt Rafe more isn’t the fact that she was all pinned under his arms, but it was because Nate knew about their relationship. Rafe had told him everything about her ever since they first started dating, and he hadn’t just lost her tonight.

He lost his childhood friend too.

“I’m leaving,” he says, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Rafe isn’t sure how many lines he has done, but his mind is getting lighter and lighter and the lights are turning blurry. 

He can’t stand being in the same room as them. He will fucking drive if he has to.

(Y/N) bites her lips, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. So they know each other? Why won’t Rafe ever tell her about him? Is this still her fault? She wasn’t even cheating on him. They’re not together.

Right?

Are they together?

“Hey, you’re okay?”

(Y/N) pulls her hands away, stepping away from the blonde boy and walking towards the exit. She has to leave this house as soon as possible. The once comforting bright color of the wall seems so dull and suffocating now, and she longs for the familiar blue paint of Rafe’s room.

She wants Rafe. 

No one else.

Just him.

“Just me?” Rafe smiled. “Hey, hey, I got a surprise for you.”

“Rafe, I hate surprises,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “You bought me a dress before!”

“Look-” he smiled, showing her a gold ring in a small velvet box. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god, it looks like yours!” (Y/N) exclaimed, clutching his hand with the ring and comparing the color. 

“Of course it’s the same ring. You’re my wife, I’m not going to buy you a different kind.”

“Wife?”

“What? Am I not your husband?”

(Y/N) wishes for nothing but Rafe. 

She presses on his contact again, turning her phone downside and moving the speaker nearer to her lips.

“Rafe, please call me back. I miss you, and we can fix this, okay? I didn’t know about Nate and I was so, so stupid. I can never replace you, Rafe. You’re mine, remember? Please. Call me back. I miss you.”

She sighs, setting her phone down on her lap and watches as the rain patters down her front windscreen heavily.

Love is a hell of a drug.

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[anyoneseenadam]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Azriel x reader where they are cuddling and talking after a long day of work?

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: mental health/anxiety being mean, insecurity, asides from that it’s pure fluff and nice and lovey dovey

a/n: I love writing fluff omg, I went in a slightly different route that I intended with this one but I hope you like it :))))

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You pushed the heavy wooden door of your home open, dragging your legs in as you fought to keep your eyes open. You pushed the door closed with your back, leaning your head against it, and closing your eyes for a second, before sliding down, still leaning against the door, and wrestling to remove you shoes with a huff.

You heard a cough ahead of you and looked up to see Azriel fondly watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was still in his leathers, so you presumed he had just beat you home, his tired eyes sparkling with humour as he watched you struggle with your boots. You didn’t say anything as you stood and padded over to him on heavy feet, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing your eyes shut.

You didn’t want to think of the long week you had dealt with, you just wanted to bury yourself under a mountain of pillows and blankets and maybe wrap your limbs around Azriel like a koala bear. He wrapped his arms around you, scarred hands rubbing up and down your back as the two of you stood together in silence, simply breathing in the other and allowing your souls to be reacquainted.

When you first met Azriel he had wandered into your shop on a whim, wanting to get Feyre some flowers to congratulate her on the pregnancy and he remembered Elain had mentioned this shop being one of her favourites. He had expected to be in and out, not in the mood for a long conversation, or any conversation for that matter. But as soon as he saw your pretty face, your flowy, dress that stopped just above your dirt covered knees, all his plans were thrown out the window.

“Can I help you?” you had asked, sweet-lipped, your voice sounding the way cherries tasted, sweet but with a deeper richness. A smooth tone that he could listen to for hours.

He ended up buying as many flowers as he could without seeming insane, not wanting you to ever stop speaking, wanting you to explain the meaning behind every flower in your store if it meant he got to stay with you.

You had noticed him as well of course. Who wouldn’t, he was beautiful and carried himself with so much grace and poise that you were sure he was a fallen angel. You had lengthened your descriptions of the flowers, face heating when you realised you were rambling and fighting a grin when he asked you to continue.

You had invited him to sit with you as you were brewing tea and he had accepted, sipping tentatively at the tea you told him you grew yourself, the greenhouse in your garden perfect for the needed flowers. The two of you had spoken for hours before he left, ignoring the confused looks from his friends when he came home with six separate bouquets of flowers. Instead deciding to picture your pretty face as he lay in bed that night, finally getting rest for the first time in weeks.

Now, you were wrapped up in his arms, still not speaking. He didn’t worry too much, he knew that sometimes you weren’t ready to speak, that some days you just needed some quiet to process your day and come back to yourself. When you had first explained the way you would drift from your own mind, feeling as if you were floating above your own body Azriel had almost cried, the realisation that maybe he wasn’t the only one in the world, that maybe there was someone for him after all.

He lifted you into his arms and carried you to the kitchen, carefully avoiding the plants littered around the house, before shifting you onto one hip like a baby, knowing you wouldn’t be letting go any time soon. He set about brewing your favourite tea, smiling as he picked up the pot that you had shared the fifth time he came to visit you.

The store had been closed but you had invited him, so he pushed in, cringing at himself when he realised how early he was but all his thoughts came to a halt when he heard that sweet voice of yours coming from your apartment above your shop.

“My lovers got humour, she's the giggle at a funeral, knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner. If the Heavens ever did speak, she's the last true mouthpiece, every Sunday's getting more bleak a fresh poison each week- AH!” you screamed when you saw him standing in the doorway, pressing a hand to your heart as it slowed back to its regular beat. “Fuck you, oh my.”

He genuinely laughed then, not expecting to hear you swear. The girl who had green stained fingers and who fed stray cats, the girl who always decorated for every holiday and who apologised when she bumped into inanimate objects. Your face was hot to the touch and you wouldn’t look him in the eyes, so he had stopped laughing, moving to up your face, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“You have the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard.” He said sincerely but you scoffed,

“No I really don’t,” you laughed but he saw the insecurities then, “I know it’s whiny.” He frowned; your voice having been one of your most attractive traits in his eyes. He had started to see beneath your cracks then, but now with you wrapped around him he remembered how deep they went.

“Do you want to talk about it baby?” he asked carefully, not wanting to startle you, knowing how deep you could get in your head, tiny noises startling you when you were zoned out.

“Bad brain.” Was all you muttered, and he frowned but just kissed your forehead and continued making your tea. When he was done he carried both you and the tea through to your bedroom, setting the tea down before twisting you again and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you on the side of the bath and wet a cloth, cleaning the makeup from your face, and moisturising your skin before picking you back up and taking you back to your room. You slowly changed into one of his shirts and some loose boxers before crawling under the duvet and reaching your hands out to Azriel who had changed into his pyjama bottoms.

He crawled in next to you, pulling you into his chest, his wings wrapping around the two of you and then his shadows settling over both of you, protecting you from the outside world.

“How was your week?” he asked, one hand coming up to play with your hair knowing how much it relaxed you and feeling his heart warm when he felt you smile against his neck.

“Bit shit,”

“How so?”

“Just rude customers, and this one guy wanted like two dozen flowers which I made up but then he couldn’t pay and trashed the bouquets I had made him. Plus all the noise made my anxiety play up,” you muttered, and he frowned, not liking how put out you sounded.

“Want me to kill him?” he asked, only half-joking.

“I think that’s a bit extreme,” you laughed into his shoulder.

“Lightly maim then?”

“Maybe just a scare, make him think his house is haunted or something,”

“That I can do.” He smiled, kissing you, happy to have you partially back to him.

“What about you, how was your week, I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.”

“I know, sorry. I’ve been doing some stuff for Rhys.”

“I’m presuming I’m not allowed to hear about it,” you said, well aware of how secretive his job was.

“It’s not a mission per say, I’m just babysitting.”

“Is it fun at least?” you asked, grinning at him cheekily and he scrunched up his face, thinking back over his week of baby sitting two horny Fae’s while he dreamt of being in your little apartment.

“Not the word I would use, they’re too horny for their own good.”

“The babies?!”

“No! NO! They’re not actually children!” he backtracked as you collapsed into a fit of giggles, Azriel joining you soon after. “You know I think they suspect something,” he said once you finally calmed down, “I think they’ve worked out I’m sneaking off.”

“Hmm, guess we have to kill them then.” You mused and Azriel grinned,

“Only reasonable course of action.”

“I mean we’d be fools not to,”

“Clearly.” He laughed, before tightening his grip, “seriously though, do you want to meet them?”

“I mean, yeah. I think it’d be nice,” he noticed your mood had shifted again and nudged you, imploring you to continue, “It’s just you’re all so accomplished and amazing, powerful people and I’m just… me.”

He tried to ignore the pain that stabbed into his heart at your self-deprecating words, having thought them about himself enough times to know how they felt. “Don’t say that, you’re an incredible person. And even if you weren’t the kindest, sweetest person I had ever met, you’re still the girl I love and honestly I think Cassian is one ex-girlfriend away from selling me to the highest bidder.”

You laughed and nuzzled in farther, “Kindest person you’ve ever met?”

“Well asides from the occasional death threats,”

“ah yes, ignoring that. Of course.” He laughed and kissed your forehead, eyes closing as he heard your voice get softer and your breath slower.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair as you felt your eyelids droop, the weight of the week lifted off of your shoulders as you buried yourself in Azriel’s arms, peaceful in his embrace.

“I love you.”