#why is this formatted like a poem
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my dear, my perfect darling my love, my one and only my yellow tulip. i have picked up a small case, watson.
what is it?
i’m buying you some diphylleia. something trivial, nothing to interest you. i’ll be going out to look at some flowers.
what for, holmes?
i hold you in my deepest mauve carnations. i believe i will find some clues there.
why haven’t i heard of this case?
it doesn’t exist i am lying i am making you a a mulberry i didn’t think it would interest you, watson.
hmm. well, you must tell me about it later.
i cannot you would hate me i cannot bear that a daffodil. of course.
what particularly about flowers?
shit shit shit shit a purple hyacinth. flower language.
hmm.
he knows he knows he cannot know how would he clovenlip toadflax. mm. i will see you.
don’t be late for dinner.
#johnlock#holmeswatson#h/w#john watson#sherlock holmes#poetry#storytelling#flower language#unrequited love#possibly unrequited love#acd johnlock#victorian johnlock#why am i tagging this like it's ao3#i might post it there actually#if you want to know the flower meanings they're on wikipedia#yellow tulip#diphylleia#mauve carnations#mulberry#daffodil#purple hyacinth#clovenlip toadflax#<- all of the flowers mentioned#have fun <3#vanny writes poetry and songs for her own enjoyment#TUMBLR STOP FUCKING UP MY POEM FORMAT CHALLENGE
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exurb1a, from "Last Date" in Poems for the Lost Because I'm Lost Too
#lit#literature#typo#typography#fragments#light academia#dark academia#oops typo!#exurb1a#poetry#poem#aesthetic#took me a hot minute trying to figure out how i wanted to format this#i think i'm happy with it now dkhsd#idk why but it never occurred to me to just take screenshots of a word doc#ive been trying to do this on canva and shit like ?? ;o;#240304
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the happening (2008)
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Bro help I cannot stop creating
human 🫵
#the q's n a's#gayest-squrrel#i dont know why but this ask is sorta formatted like a poem in my askbox idk why#also! i didnt know there was an emoji for that#the more you know
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random ask: what is your go-to daily drink? your special occasion drink? detail delightful, recipe spectacular.
∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) / づ♡ I love you drinks [you're pretty cool though]
I drink a lot of tea! lyons usually but sometimes earl grey. with milk
and of course water. the og. shoutout to water
apple juice is one of my all time favourites also
but MOST favourite of all. is frappes. they are so good. and dalgona coffee
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When ppl in person realize i can draw, and i mention im writing, theyre like: oh are you making a comic? Then when i say no, it took me 30 days to do a 30 page 1 chapter comic last time I tried at 4-6 hours of work a day and ideally id like a turnaround of like one 30 page chapter per 1-2 weeks if i was going to do it long term so. No. I am not making comics any more.
Then theyre like: are u gonna illustrate ur book???
And while i deeply appreciate the sentiment. Its also like... well my good sir madam elder, do u typically... look for adult novels with illustration pages? I mean yes i love illustrations too but im not sure why id draw extra, when im already gonna probably make my own cover, and i want my books to be enough within confines of expected that ppl idk... give em a chance? Idk. Food for thought. Do i illustrate my book chapters mm
#rant#shdhdh#to be fair the person who asked me expected like a 100 page handwritten poem book with illustrations#not a 300-500 page novel when she asked if i was gonna do illustrations#i also like. for my Own indulgence. Considered a sexy Guide Book for my story universe. which is where yeah ALL my#goddamn character design sketches and map art and faerie illustrations and landscape art could go#since. i drew thousands of pictures when making lore lmao#but like. all that art is on paper. and i know itll take like 30 hours to 100 hours JUST SCANNING#pages individually one at a fucking time and saving tjem and. dear god the picture editing on them all#even withiut additional digital coloring is at least 5 minutes per picture. then who knows how many hours formatting a combined book with#all art. and thats before ANY text written. which is why i havent even made an art book. like of just art#hell its why i havent even backed up my 9 sketchbooks of traditional art from the past decade#its so much work its like 2000 pages of art. im just gonna let my family ancestors find iy if i get luxky#and its not desyroyed by the elements (like all my older art was ToT)#tldr my point is: i love love love art and i love the momentary joy it brings ppl i share it with#but as far as like Big output i prefer writing. its easier#art is fine wjen its like im paid to make 1 poster 1 flier 1 card one book cover etc#but ive never been commissioned to do like 20 illustrations ( i would tho! sounds like more money)#so like. on my own time for free as far as high scale takes days of work? id prefer to not do more art
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I sit before my table, presented with
An image I know will haunt me to my final day.
The finished product is beautiful in theory, but
That blank emptiness absorbs all my focus.
Like a black hole sucking in all matter,
I feel nothing as I gaze upon it.
Something so small.
Everywhere I’ve looked,
On my hands and knees for hours or minutes, I don’t know.
Each nook and cranny has been searched,
Every crack checked meticulously.
My family thinks I’m crazy,
My friends don’t understand.
Even I’m not sure why I search,
Compelled by that empty space.
Something so small.
I stand in search of paper, cardboard, markers and scissors.
Is this how God feels?
The simple act of Creation, assembling pieces of a final image for it to end so wrong, requiring more effort to fix.
But She doesn’t. She sits atop Her throne above it all, not interfering.
I look down at my work. Maybe I should do the same.
Something so small.
"Where The Hell Is That Puzzle Piece?" 09/21/2023
#writing#creative writing#poetry#poems#my writing#my poems#my poetry#hate formatting actually#why is it like this#i promise it looks better in google docs#oh well
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hmm im not allowed to post my poems anymore...
#she's says they’re too cringe#or is embarrassed of them#marilyn doesn't mind them (i'm learning their names better)#poems are better than hurting yourself though. so i think i win.#but i guess i dont eat or sleep properly so i dont know. i keep forgetting. that's what marilyn is for#(she doesn't like it though)#txt#i will put my poem in here instead#itching itching itching itching until there is blood#one way or another the oxygen must leave my body be it bit by bit#it is sinful to keep it in my lungs for so long. breathing is wrong.#and yet i exhale and inhale anyway#I dont like this format.#thea is annoyingly insecure. i want to post my poems.#oh there's the person she's afraid of#well not afraid. but they make her feel things she is afraid of. i suppose thats why im here now.#i wont respond because I don't know them. and i dont care.#i've decided i don't like them. not because of thea though. just because.
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uuugh i really want to write a poem about kissing himeno but i just feel like the "stars, can't do it, not today" gif from road to el dorado
#just some musings don't mind me#crush gush#idk why a poem i just feel like it'd be the best format to encapsulate my feelings on the matter
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poetry class was such a trip bc 2019 was my worst year at the time (in retrospect it was perfectly fine + also had qs renaissance but i digress) but not only did i hand in the gay poem of all time as my first work that my prof loved so much & i still cherish fondly. but esp the early pieces i submitted (rrf / the black swan one) were such hot character studies. even the prwp one while a little on the nose had some real fun energy even if it toed the line to girlboss in a way i didn't care abt but. occupational hazard i guess. OH ALSO THE FKCIN WHITE ROSES CASKETS ONE..
#i have to revisit oc poetry at some point bc i have too good a collection title to not compile them one day#but i was burning out hard towards the end doing weekly poems n perfectionism got me bc they all were abt ocs#+ i didnt vibe w certain formats like sonnet so those just. sucked by definition#like some of them got a little too on main and had the energy of submitting fanfiction to a creative writing class which is why#ive been staying clear of poetry bc cringe in my brain lol#but it was good !!!!! and esp esp the black swan poem was my magnum opus the format was so hot#elia txts
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[Posted 11 June 2015] I heard a legend of an archer once: it was said that her bow was strung with ice and that her arrows shot blizzards into the hearts of her foes; I do not know if the woman ever existed, but if she did… well then I imagine that her fingers must have been incredibly cold. However! There are others whom I did encounter: the tall swordsman whose blades were made of grass and the axeman whose swings caused thunderclaps – thinking again, it does make sense that there would be a legendary archer such as she.
#poetry#i don't know why i formatted the poem with its stanzas like this#but it felt like too much of a departure to completely change up the line breaks#they sound like quite a fun rpg group#also this poem did pretty well (for my work)#so i guess my friends were also ruminating on the ice archer?#2015
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i feel awful
today is my mom's birthday party i want to be with her but she invited a lot of people they're my family they love me but i'm worried i don't like being around many people even if i love them even if they love me
so i hide in my room i have my fan turned on it's so hot in here but i'd rather stay here than talk to everyone else
i want to be happy i want my mom's bd party to be nice just my mom, my sister, my dad and i but i know she wants to be with her family and i get it but i'm nervous
my parents told me to take medicine for this i was assigned an SOS med for when im especially stressed i dont want to depend on it. i want to get over my struggles without the help of this medicine. but i know i have to take it.
i already took my med. i guess i'll be fine. but, for now, i feel awful
#this is a long post#idk why i formatted it Like That but#i needed to say stuff#my rambles#this is like a poem except it isnt#... that didnt make much sense did it
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How do you write good smut?
god I wish I knew. you string words together and hope they make a hot sentence and someone go "oh yeeaah"
tbh it's practise. read smut that makes you go shaky in the knees and try to study why that smut works so well. vocabulary & action and such. write smut. repeat and rinse. I've been writing smut for ten years and I still don't think I write good enough smut to be answering this question 😂 I need my smut to be also grammatically correct and otherwise well-written text too so, practising any writing will probably help
#anonymous#answered#you hit me in the knees with this question anon cos I don't think I'm very good at writing smut and I'm left here wondering#why is it you came to me#is it just me or is this question formatted like a poem#why
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honestly i think “i am not a perfect man / and you say neither was god” is hands down one of my favorite lines i’ve ever written
#couldn’t tell you why it just tickles my brain right#it’s a poem that’s not going up for a while; i’m just prepping the insta/tiktok versions since they actually take time to format 😭#i like that poem a lot actually#aside from that line i also liked my personification of my depression/suicidal ideation. i think i nailed that one#it’s def one of my favorite poems#grace being stupid#text post#personal#the patron saint of asexual poets
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rain-kissed* (footballer!harry x
nerd!y/n)
summary: y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining
words: 6.1k
warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a major injury, cursing, kissing, hints of smut, mutual pining.
Y/N groaned as she walked into the lecture hall for her literature class. "Are you kidding me?"
There in the very front row sat Harry Styles - captain of the football team, president of one of the biggest frats on campus, and certified douchebag extraordinaire. His feet were obnoxiously propped up on the desk in front of him as he laughed loudly with his friends.
"This class is gonna be a nightmare," Y/N muttered, taking a seat as far away from Harry's circle as possible. She couldn't stand arrogant jocks like him.
Class started and the professor cleared her throat loudly, shooting Harry a pointed look until he dropped his feet to the floor with an eye roll. "Alright, since this is an upper-level lit course, we're going to kick things off with a big group project."
A collective groan went through the class. Group projects were the worst, especially when half the group didn't pull their weight. Harry raised his hand lazily.
"What's the project, Millers?"
The prof narrowed her eyes at Harry's casual address but proceeded. "You'll be analyzing the themes and formatting an anthology of poems, plays, and short stories from a particular era or movement. I'll be assigning the groups and topics."
Y/N mentally prepared herself to get stuck doing all the work as usual for her group when Millers started listing off the pairings.
"Styles and Y/L/N - you'll be covering the Romantic period."
Y/N's head whipped up in horror as Harry scoffed loudly. Of course they'd get partnered up. This was quite literally her worst nightmare.
"Fucking kill me," Harry grumbled, slumping back in his seat rudely.
"I'd rather work alone," Y/N couldn't stop herself from retorting. Immediately, Millers zeroed in on her with a stern look.
"I don't recall there being a choice, Ms. Y/L/N. Unless either of you plans to drop this course, I suggest you learn to work together effectively."
Gritting her teeth, Y/N forced out a tight, "Yes, Professor."
Harry was already texting rapidly on his phone, not paying any attention. This project was going to be utter hell.
The rest of the semester only proved Y/N right about what a nightmare it would be to work with Harry. Their first meeting to divide up the work went about as well as could be expected - which is to say it was a total disaster.
"Look, I don't have a bunch of time for this bullshit poetry stuff," Harry kicked back in a creaky chair, looking entirely too at home in the empty classroom they'd claimed for their work session. "How about you just do the whole thing and I'll, like, proofread it at the end or whatever?"
Y/N stared at him incredulously. "Absolutely not! This is a hugely weighted project, Styles. I'm not doing all the work myself."
He shrugged impatiently. "Why not? You seem like a big ol' nerd who'd be into this."
Biting back a retort, Y/N forced herself to remain calm and reasonable. If he was going to act like a damn child,she had to be the adult in the relationship–or whatever this was.
"Forget it. We're going to split everything 50/50 whether you like it or not. I'll take the poetry analysis and you can have the plays. We'll swap sections to proofread before compiling the final thing."
Harry made a face like she'd asked him to perform surgery. "Do I have to? Plays are so boring."
"Don't care," Y/N said flatly. "You're pulling your weight on this one way or another."
With a melodramatic huff, Harry finally agreed and they were able to separate the reading materials and due dates before parting ways, both dreading the long weeks ahead.
Except...after trading several heated email chains and a couple disastrous coffee shop meetups, something shifted. Maybe it was the punctuality that struck after virtually living in the library for a week straight. Maybe it was how they both surprised each other by not being complete idiots about the subject matter. But at some point, the bickering and resentful silences turned to a bearable truce and even - dare Y/N think it - a hint of reluctant respect between them.
Y/N had assumed Harry was just another brainless party bro who skated by on his looks and family money. But to her surprise, he actually had intelligent insights into the Romantic poets and playwrights - even if he still whined about having to read "this dramalogy crap."
And Harry, who had fully expected Y/N to be an uptight, pretentious book nerd, found himself caught off guard by her whip-smart analysis...and her unexpected sarcastic quips that had him stifling laughs more than once during their study sessions. He called her nerd instead of her usual name, but was now slipping back to using Y/n more often.
"Oh my god, you did not just say that about Lord Byron!" Harry snickered as Y/N made another scalding comment about the poet's arrogant womanizing.
"What? The man was an infamous manwhore by all accounts," Y/N shrugged unapologetically. "Self-important dickhead thought his brooding and philandering made him a genius."
Harry gasped in mock offense. "How very unromantic of you, love! Have you no poetic soul?"
Without missing a beat, Y/N deadpanned, "I prefer to admire poets who didn't give the clap to half of London."
The startled laugh that burst from Harry's lips was so warm and uninhibited that Y/N felt an unexpected little flip in her stomach at the sight. Whoa, what was that?
Shaking it off, she hid her face behind her book again, tamping down an oddly giddy–sort of feeling. Just because she'd managed to find Harry slightly less insufferable lately didn't mean anything.
And so it went, their bickering gradually becoming more lighthearted and playful rather than biting. The weeks ticked by as they somehow formed an unlikely...friendship? Bros? Sure, they'd go with that for simplicity's sake.
At some point, they started expanding their hangouts beyond just study sessions too. Grabbing food after class turned into actually sitting together, Harry regaling Y/N with stories from his frat's latest shenanigans as she pretended not to be entertained.
On the rare nights Y/N wasn't holed up writing papers, she started joining Harry and his boys at their favorite dive bar, quickly becoming the calm voice of reason trying in vain to talk them out of their next boneheaded plan.
"Come on, PlainJane! Live a little!" Harry teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders at the bar.
The rowdy group cackled at Harry's horrible attempt at a literary-themed nickname for Y/N, as per tradition when any new face got absorbed into their friend circle. Personally, Y/N thought it was a lame pun, but she secretly loved how easily she'd slotted into their bizarre fratty family...and maybe especially how Harry always seemed to plaster himself to her side whenever they went out.
The camaraderie and effortless banter flowing between them should've been a huge red flag that something was shifting. But Y/N was quite stubbornly oblivious, as was Harry in his own way.
At least, that was until their big group presentation day rolled around. They'd been prepping and quizzing each other for weeks, reviewing notes and analysis essays till they were cross-eyed. Harry had really stepped up, much to Y/N's surprise, retaining way more than she'd expected about the playwrights and their major works.
The whole lit class was spread out in the lecture hall, with bullet-pointed notecards and thick anthologies ready as the first group took the floor. When it was finally Harry and Y/N's turn, they moved to the front in sync, Harry shooting her a subtle wink as he grabbed the microphone first.
"Buckle up, kids - this is how you do a proper literary presentation," he drawled cockily.
Y/N rolled her eyes on reflex, biting her lip and bumping his hip with hers in playful admonishment. "Shut up and just start already."
Neither of them noticed the amused looks being swapped by their classmates at their easy rapport. Or Millers leaning back with a knowing smirk, clearly recognizing the chemistry flying between her formerly antagonistic partners.
For the next hour, Harry and Y/N launched into their meticulously prepared overview of the key figures and works emerging from the Romantic period. Their back-and-forth was flawless yet casual, almost playful at times with little ad-libs and jokes only they were in on.
At one point, Harry lightly mocked Lord Byron's arrogance with a pompous impression that had Y/N doubled over giggling into the mic, barely choking out the next lines through her laughter. When she managed to catch her breath, she shot him a look that was equal parts fond exasperation and...something more heated.
There was a noticeable spark between them that had clearly evolved far beyond the adversarial classmates they'd started as. And if anyone could miss that subtext, it became blindingly obvious at the end when they seamlessly transitioned into their concluding remarks, standing shoulder to shoulder.
"So in summary, while the Romantics may have been a pretentious bunch of melancholic lads-" Harry began.
"-their pioneering works cemented their place as quintessential figures in literary history," Y/N picked up without missing a beat.
They shared a grin before finishing in unison, "And that's the tea, no cap."
A surprised burst of laughter rang out from their classmates at their cheeky sign-off, even the prof hiding a smile behind her hand. Everyone could see it - the easy chemistry, the almost electric undercurrent between the former rivals.
Everyone, that is, except Harry and Y/N themselves.
As they moved to return to their seats amid the applause, neither seemed to register the weighted looks and muffled whispers following them. Harry just ducked his head with an almost bashful smile, still riding the high of how flawlessly they'd worked together. While Y/N felt her cheeks flushing under the weight of what she convinced herself was just residual adrenaline.
In the weeks after their wildly successful presentation, that same strain of electrifying connection only grew stronger between them. You'd never know they'd spent the first half of the semester low-key loathing each other based on their current vibe.
Now, when Harry's frat brothers tried to rib him about his "study buddy" at their typical dive bar hangout, he just threw an arm around Y/N's shoulders and proudly declared, "More like my brain twin!"
Y/N would just duck her head with a bashful grin, pointedly ignoring how her heart did a little somersault at both the affectionate nickname and Harry's easy touch.
Or like when they sprawled out on the quad between classes, passing a bag of chips back and forth as Harry ranted about his coach riding his ass over the big rivalry game next week. Without even thinking about it, Y/N would reach out to squeeze his knee consolingly as he huffed out his frustrations. It was such a simple, natural gesture between them now that she didn't even register the slightly stunned look Harry shot her before clearing his throat gruffly.
Even their friends couldn't resist commenting on their respective obliviousness at this point.
"Bruh, Y/N literally lets you call her 'love' without punching you in the dick," Niall pointed out bluntly one night when Harry claimed, once again, he and Y/N were "just friends." His Irish buddy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Pretty sure she wants to ride your lancer if you know what I mean."
Harry smacked him hard while trying not to get flustered. "Shut the fuck up, asshole."
While on Y/N's end...
"Sooooo, when are you gonna admit you have a huge crush on Styles?" Her friend Riley asked point blank over brunch, making Y/N nearly choke on her mimosa.
"What? No I don't!" She insisted a little too quickly, refusing to meet Riley's all-knowing gaze. "We're just...really good friends."
Riley hummed disbelievingly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."
Y/N opened her mouth to protest further before clamping it shut as her mind started helplessly rehashing all her favourite little moments with Harry over the past few weeks. His warm, anthracite eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at her jokes. The proud grin he'd get whenever she successfully understood something he'd tried explaining. The way she felt this inexplicable magnetic pull to stay pressed into his side for as long as possible whenever they hung out...
"Oh my god," she breathed out, smile slipping as the enormity of her revelation dawned. "I'm in love with Harry fucking Styles."
That's not to say the smitten epiphany immediately changed anything between the two. Well, maybe it made their lingering hugs and casual touches go on for a few beats too long. Or had them both shyly stealing glances when the other's back was turned.
***
Mostly though, they just continued their cozy, obliviously pining routine of late night FaceTimes and weekends holed up studying together for finals. All while Harry's team prepared for their annual football rivalry game - the biggest matchup of the season that would make or break their championship chances.
The night before the game, Y/N found herself inexplicably anxious as she sat in the stands amid a drunk, raucous crowd. Harry kept shooting cheesy grins and double finger-gunged winks her way whenever he trotted past her section, clearly buzzed on adrenaline.
"Go get 'em, superstar!" She shouted at one point, laughing as Harry blew her an obnoxious kiss before getting back in the huddle.
The energy in the stadium was electric and infectious, Y/N finding herself caught up in the cheers and chants despite not being a huge football fan normally. Something about watching her...Harry out there gave her swirling butterflies low in her belly though.
As the intense game raged on, Y/N was on the edge of her seat, nails digging into her palms whenever Harry took a brutal hit or made a heart-stoppingly risky play. At one point he got absolutely leveled by a linebacker twice his size, his helmet bouncing sickeningly off the turf.The roar of the crowd faded into the background as Y/N watched in horror as Harry's body slammed violently into the turf. She felt her heart stop as he didn't immediately get back up after the brutal hit.
"Harry!" she screamed, her voice drowned out by the gasps of the other spectators.
The medical team rushed out onto the field as Harry lay unmoving. Y/N's hands shook with fear as she watched them carefully roll him onto a backboard and load him into the ambulance. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally received word that Harry was going to be okay. The doctors said he had suffered a severe concussion and possible spinal injury from the whiplash of the hit. He would need weeks of rest and recovery.
Y/N rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. When she entered his room, her heart broke at the sight of Harry's battered body hooked up to various machines, a cervical collar immobilizing his neck.
"Harry..." she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers. "I'm so sorry."
Harry's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? You're here..."
"Of course I'm here, you idiot," she tried to joke, blinking back more tears. "I was so worried about you."
A small smile tugged at his bruised lips. "I'll be okay, love. Harry is a thick skull, remember?"
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning at his terrible joke. "Don't scare me like that again, Styles. I don't know what I'd do without you."
A look of tenderness crossed Harry's face that made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. But before either could say anything further, the doctor entered to check on Harry's condition.
***
Over the next week, Y/N diligently stayed by Harry's side in the hospital. She helped feed him, kept him company, and supported him through the difficult early recovery stages. Harry quickly grew restless being cooped up, but every time he tried to get out of bed against doctor's orders, Y/N was there to scold him.
"You heard what the doctor said, Harry. You need to rest and let your body heal properly," she chastised him one day as he tried to get up.
Harry groaned in frustration. "But I'm going stir crazy in this damn bed! I feel fine, Y/N, honestly."
"No, you don't," Y/N said firmly. "You could have had a serious spinal injury. You're lucky it wasn't worse. Now lie back down before I get the nurses to strap you in."
Grumbling, Harry reluctantly complied, though he continued to hate being so confined and immobile. Little did Y/N know, he was already hatching a plan.
A few days later, Y/N arrived at the hospital only to find Harry's bed empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to the nurses' station in a panic.
"Where is he? Where's Harry Styles?" she demanded.
The nurse gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he checked himself out against medical advice earlier today."
"What? No, he can't have!" Y/N cried. She knew immediately where he would have gone.
Sure enough, when she ran across campus to the football practice field, she found Harry standing on the sidelines in his gear, acting as if nothing had happened. White hot fury blazed through her veins.
"Harry!" she yelled, storming toward him as the first raindrops began to fall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Harry turned with a cocky grin as he saw her approach. "There's my favourite nerd. What's got your panties in a twist, love?"
"You insufferable asshole!" Y/N exploded, not caring that they had an audience of his confused teammates. "The doctor said you needed weeks of rest and recovery! You could have permanently injured your spine!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe, I feel great. Probably just overreacted with that whole backboard and neck brace nonsense."
"Are you kidding me right now?" Y/N seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides. Rain began pouring down around them, quickly soaking them both, but she didn't care. "You're incredible, you know that? You have zero self-preservation! No regard for your own safety and well-being!"
"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Harry scoffed, though his casual demeanor faltered slightly under her furious glare.
"Dramatic? You could've been paralyzed, Harry! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Her voice broke with frustrated tears. "Don't you understand how terrified I was watching you lying there, not moving? I thought...I thought I might lose you."
Something flickered across Harry's features then. His cavalier mask slipped for just a moment, allowing a flash of guilt and tenderness to shine through that sent Y/N's heart lurching treacherously. Then it was gone, the wall snapping back into place.
"Well, I'm right as rain now, so you can quit your worrying," he said gruffly, turning his back on her.
That was the final straw for Y/N. She grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, not caring that they were getting drenched by the downpour.
"You're so fucking reckless with yourself, Harry! Like you have zero self-preservation or even an ounce of common sense! Do you have any idea how scary that was to see you lying there, not moving? How I thought..." Her voice hitched, throat growing too tight to continue as burning tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Through the rapidly blurring vision, Y/N registered Harry staring, chest heaving like she'd actually winded him with her outburst. His hands hung frozen at his sides, knuckles going white as he watched her come completely unraveled. And still she wasn't finished.
"You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that! Pulling stupid fucking stunts and flipping off your own safety like it doesn't matter! Because it does, Harry. It matters so much to...to me," she finished in a thick whisper, finally allowing a tear to escape and streak down her flushed cheek.
A weighted silence stretched between them, Y/N struggling to regain her ragged breathing as Harry continued gaping at her, utterly shocked by her reaction. Waves of tension rippled through the small space separating them.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Harry seemed to recalibrate. His expression went utterly blank for a beat before, out of nowhere, his eyes hardened into flashing jade. When he spoke, his tone was laced with a chilling detachment.
"Why?"
Y/N blinked owlishly. "W-What?"
"Why the fuck do you care so much, huh?" Harry exploded, eyes flashing as he aimed his scathing hostility directly at Y/N. "Last I checked, I'm not your boyfriend or your family. I'm just some dumb jock you study with, right?"
Y/N flinched at the biting sarcasm, feeling tears prick her eyes anew at his harsh dismissal. But Harry was on a roll, fists clenching and unclenching as he visibly wrestled with...what? Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, but his next words sliced deep regardless.
"So why do you get to flip out and pass judgment every time I take a hit, huh? You think I don't know how to handle myself out on that field?"
"That's not what I-"
"No, clearly you don't think I have any sense of self-preservation or whatever psychobabble bullshit diagnosis you want to armchair next!" Harry barreled over her attempted protest, voice rising in a sharp crescendo.
He took a menacing step closer, using his full height to loom over her in a move that likely would've been intimidating...if his eyes didn't look so pained and conflicted behind that mask of bitter anger. "Tell me, Y/N - what gives you the right to freak out like that, huh? To look at me with those scared eyes like you have any claim over whether I live or die or-"
"Because I love you, dammit!" The confession exploded from Y/N with the force of a meteor strike.
A stunned silence fell over the field as Harry gaped at her, mouth hanging open in shock. Even the rain seemed to pause in the heavy tension between them.
After several moments where Y/N felt her panic rising, Harry finally found his voice again. "You...you what?"
Y/N took a shuddering breath, bracing herself. She had come too far to back down now.
"I love you, Harry," she repeated, slower and more sure this time. "I have for a long time, you idiot. But you're always so reckless and careless 'bout your own safety. You take stupid risks and shrug it off like getting hurt is no big deal!"
She stepped closer, feeling tears mingling with the raindrops on her cheeks. "Don't you understand? The thought of you being seriously injured, or worse...it terrifies me. Because I couldn't handle losing you. You mean everything to me."
Harry continued staring at her, eyes blown wide and lips parted as if her confession had utterly short-circuited his brain. Y/N pressed on, needing to finally unleash all the feelings she had kept bottled up for far too long.
"I love your stupid jokes and your kind heart. I love how passionate you are about football, even if it drives me mental sometimes. I love the way you always smell like sandalwood and make me feel so safe when I'm with you. I'm in love with every obnoxious, laddish, reckless part of you and I can't keep ignoring it anymore."
She let out a wet chuckle, wiping futilely at her drenched face, her hands still shaking. "So yeah, that's why I care, you absolute wanker. That's why seeing you get hurt destroys me every single time, because the thought of being in a world without Harry Styles in it is just too much for me to bear!"
The words hung heavy in the rain-soaked air between them. Y/N watched Harry open and close his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find a response. For once, his swagger and cockiness had completely deserted him as her feelings poured over him in an unstoppable tide.
Just when the silence was becoming too much for Y/N to bear, Harry finally seemed to find his voice again.
"You...you love me?" he rasped out, the disbelief and wonder evident in his tone. "Like, you're in love with me?"
Y/N felt her cheeks flush hot despite the cold rain. She gave a small nod, unable to meet his intense gaze. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her ears, she barely registered the shouts and hoots coming from Harry's teammates who had witnessed the whole emotional outburst.
"Shut it, you wankers!" Harry barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Y/N.
In two long strides, he closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Harry reached up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward his.
"Y/N..." he murmured, emerald eyes searching hers intently. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"
She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch despite herself. "And ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't risk that, Harry. You mean too much to me."
Something blazing and tender flickered across Harry's face at her confession. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until their foreheads were resting together. Y/N shivered at the intimate proximity, at the way his familiar woodsy scent surrounded her completely.
"You daft woman," he murmured, the words fanning warmly across her lips and making her shiver for an entirely different reason. "Don't you know there's nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend? To be able to love you the way you deserve?"
Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at that, her heart feeling fit to burst from her chest. She had spent so long forcing herself not to hope, not to read into the heated glances and lingering touches she shared with Harry. Could he truly feel the same earth-shattering connection she did?
Her eyes blinked open again at the feeling of Harry's calloused thumb brushing reverently across her rain-soaked cheek. He was staring at her with such naked adoration and longing that it stole the breath from her lungs.
"I'm so bloody gone for you, Y/N," he confessed roughly. "Have been for ages now, if I'm being honest. Thought maybe I was imagining things between us or reading too much into it since I couldn't fathom someone as incredible as you wanting a mug like me."
Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to reassure him that she wanted every infuriatingly charming part of him, but Harry pressed on before she could get the words out.
"Then today, hearing how scared you were when I got laid out...how you thought you could lose me?" He shook his head slowly, curls dripping rivulets of rainwater down the sharp planes of his face and throat. "Don't know how I didn't see it before, love. The way you care about me, put up with all my shite...it's because you love me. Isn't it?"
It wasn't really a question, more like Harry was testing the words out for the first time and savoring the way they sounded. A thrill went through Y/N at getting to be the one to put that Look of rare, hushed awe on his handsome face for once.
"Yes, Harry," she answered anyway, both hands coming up to cradle his beloved face. "I'm desperately in love with you. The good, the bad, the reckless...all of it."
A crinkly-eyed grin stretched across Harry's lips then, brighter and more vibrant than Y/N had ever seen before. He wasted no more time closing that minuscule distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.
Y/N gasped against his lips as the dam finally broke, months of too-long denied want and need bubbling over in heated waves. Harry's hands slid into her soaked hair, angling her head to deepen the embrace as he licked hungrily into her mouth. Y/N clung to him just as fiercely, fingernails scraping against his scalp and shoulders as if trying to physically pull him closer.
They were both panting harshly by the time they wrenched apart, sharing the same air in the infinitesimal space between their swollen mouths. Y/N felt drugged by the glazed, predatory darkness swimming in Harry's blown pupils,by the intimate glide of their rain-drenched bodies.
"Fucking finally," he growled against her lips before diving back in, one large hand splaying possessively across the small of her back.
Y/N hummed in ardent agreement, getting lost in his dizzying taste and scent and touch once more. It felt like a cosmic star had been reborn between them, the force of their crashing inevitability obliterating all the hurt and confusion from before.
Neither was sure how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, drugging kisses amongst the pouring rain. But eventually, Harry pulled away just enough to nose his way along Y/N's jaw, lips dragging hotly up to her ear.
"Let's get out of this downpour, hmm?" he husked, teeth grazing her shell and making her shudder. "Got some making up to do for being such a blind tosser."
Y/N pulled back just enough to catch the incandescent fire blazing in his darkened gaze. Her breath hitched at the onceiled promise flickering there, at the tips of his wicked fingers already slipping beneath the drenched hem of her top.
It seemed she wasn't the only one who had been harboring some pent-up longing and hunger.
Still, there was one loose end she couldn't resist tugging before allowing Harry to whisk them away... "Does this mean you're finally going to start taking better care of yourself?" she asked archly, arching one pointed brow. "No more stupid, reckless stunts for my idiotically brave footballer?"
Harry audibly groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically against her clavicle as his hands flexed with bruising force against her hips.
"Whatever you want, love," he conceded gruffly. "No more injuries or shite, I swear it. Now can we please get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself further by ravishing you in the mud right in front of my teammates?"
Y/N gave a squeak of surprise as Harry abruptly ducked to gather her up in his arms, hitching her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. He sealed his wicked promise with another lingering, molten kiss that left her head spinning.
"Now, where were we..." he growled darkly before striding determinedly off the field, Y/N clinging just as fiercely in his embrace.
The teammates' raucous catcalls and laughter faded into the rainy background as Y/N tucked her face into the curve of Harry's neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood and smoke and the feeling of being wrapped in his arms at last.
She was never letting him go again. Not if she had any say in it.
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
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honestly i only begin to feel like i've actually read a chinese poem when i've seen the original text, a transliteration, a word-by-word annotation, and at least one actual poetic translation, preferably two or three.
i find word-by-word glosses of classical chinese poetry to be incredibly useful sometimes as a learning aid:[1] to indicate a proper noun,[2] an archaic meaning, a literary device, or linguistic feature not immediately obvious in a poetic translation. also in the case of regulated verse, it's a great visual way to appreciate the technical beauties of parallelism.
however i don't usually write & post them, for a few reasons:
it's extremely easy for them to look like "broken" english -- something i'm sensitive to as a second-gen [diaspora/person of hyphenated experience/etc.]. like i grew up in an area that was like 40% asian and still managed to hear "me love you long time", random gibberish syllables, etc.
that aside. there's a tradition of western readers of classical chinese poetry coming away with all sorts of overgeneralizations about how each character is a world unto itself, etc., etc., how the poet is not present in the poem because they never use the word "I",[3] etc.
also, they look like a "bridge" or intermediate step in the translation process when that is not the case for me.[4] creating a word-by-word gloss is kinda an entire translation process of its own, with different objectives & priorities!
so yeah! my (extremely amateur) translations are trying to be poetic more than scholarly translations, but at the same time i yearn for people to engage with them as translations and talk to me about the process (which i am terminally lazy about writing up). word-level glosses would probably help, but those are my reasons for not writing them.
my fav resources for learning classical chinese poetry as a beginner both make extensive use of individual word glosses: the East Asia Student blog and How to Read Chinese Poetry: A Guided Anthology, ed. Zong-qi Cai
a lot of times, with brevity being prized in classical chinese, names (and thus entire careers, moral lessons, eidolons) get abbreviated to a single character
obviously there are lots of instances of ancient poets using the word "I" or referring to themselves in general, but also. just in my limited experience. SO many poems are autobiographical or have a specific voice???
i do rely heavily on dictionaries and annotations, but also on my accumulated experience with reading and discussing poetry, my knowledge of the language, my personal tastes/interpretations/goals/mood when it comes to composing a specific translation... you know, things that are less tangible & easy to point to. most of the time i don't know exactly why i've made a specific choice until @/garden-ghoul asks me about it.
#i think because the act of reading a poem is normally#an act of interpretation#and if i only have access to a single complete interpretation#then i really don't have much i can do with any confidence#because whatever element i'm looking at may or may not literally be present in the original work#due to the amount of filling-in that has to be done to get a complete english sentence out of the compact allusive grammar of the original#so how can i engage?#i can do without the pinyin it's just nice to have a sense of the intended soundshape#along with the sense#anyway they should publish translations in this format more often#like how a friend of mine got a little book of haiku about cats with the original-romaji-translation printing and it was very fun#because haiku are so short and relatively concrete and ik enough japanese#that i could actually engage with the interpretation process#ofc the first thing you do when you have that power is start one-sided quarrels with the translator#so i can see why there's not a lot of motivation to do this especially in an online format where people can get at you easily lmao
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