#*auld lang syne starts playing*

[playitagainmyjohnny]

uh hi  * waves * .  i know i don’t really uh .  talk much .  here .  but well !  it’s the end of the year and that felt like cause for .  idk .  whatever it is i’m attempting here lol .  so anyway .  the year is ending !  the year is ending .  i started this blog back in november of 2021 and then in 2022 i got far cry 5 .  on march 1st, by pure chance, i posted a set .  and then i thought huh, that was the first of the month, might as well try for a set on the 2nd, and yeah sure why not make one for the 3rd too .  at some point i realized that march was fc5′s release anniversary and that just seemed too perfect to waste so i decided fuck it, i’ll do a new fc5 set every day for the month, to celebrate its release, and then .  well tbh i had no idea what i was gonna do after march ended really lmao .  i guess i didn’t really have any plans for after that, not that i was going to quit posting or anything, just that i had no idea if i was going to stick to the whole new-post-a-day thing i had going on or scale back but well, here i am .  i’ve managed to somehow make a new post every single day since march 1st and decided to aim for a year of new sets ( so i have about 2 more months to go i think ) but after that ?  * shrugs *  fuck if i know .  again lmao .  maybe i’ll just see how long i can keep going making a post a day until i give up, forget, this site dies, or .  whatever the fuck else happens i guess !     but i want to say to everyone that’s been here, no matter how long : thank you .  really and truly, from the bottom of my heart : thank you .  i never really thought i’d garner much attention at all for my shots, so to have any number of people here is really amazing, let alone the number i’ve somehow reached .  i read every single tag and comment i get on my photos, multiple times, and all of the sweet and kind words i’ve received have done so, so much for me .  i feel like my words really can’t express the entirety of it, but please know that i read every word .  i appreciate every word .  part of why i’ve stuck at this so long is because of those kind words, because of knowing i’m bringing other people joy with what i’m doing .  and please know too that you also bring me so much joy !!  every note, every kind tag, every interaction ... i treasure all of it .  * falls over * i’m really excited to keep shooting more in 2023 !  i got a few new games this past year, and i’ve had a wonderful time taking pictures in them, as well as just playing them in general .  hopefully i can pick up some fun things in 2023 as well and take even more shots !!  

anyway anyway .  i think that’s about all i have to say ( i’ve rambled on enough as is lol ) .  so i’ll end with a final thank you for being here !  i love you .  and happy new year  🖤

#uh please don't reblog maybe ? #( sorry i use the legacy editor so i can't actually set this to not be rebloggable i just have to ask y'all and pray lmao ) #anyway uh thank you all for being here with me #really and truly #and if you've ever left a kind word in the tags or as a comment please know i read every single word of it and i thank you so so much #i love all of you #happy new year !!! #* auld lang syne starts playing in the background * #edited this shit like it was a fucking fic lmao #personality module #🖤🖤🖤

[hella1975]

i can hear auld lang syne playing distantly and this is concerning bc it is midnight and i live in the countryside

#the farmers on a mad one by the sounds of it #help? this is so fucking eerie #and why is someone playing auld lang syne of all things #i feel like im at the start of a moor murder mystery and im the victim

[aethon-recs]

Hi I wanted to know if you know any tomarry fanfics were Tom is the professor. I don't care if it's time travel or anything like that I just want to see some professor Tom because I can't find any.

Also your blog help me so much thank you for that!

Have a good day/night

Oohh, this is a fun one! Thanks for the ask!

I love the Professor Riddle trope. I might be biased, but I think Tom Riddle would have made for the best Defense professor that Harry could have had 😉

See below for some favorite Tomarrymort fics of this trope, arranged by alphabetical order:

*

Professor Riddle Fic Recs

Cam for the Money, Stayed for the Fun by @itsevanffs (E, 7k, complete)

Harry is a camboy. Professor Riddle is secretly his biggest patron.

Everything Green Is Gold by @cindle-writes (E, 24k, WIP)

Prior to Hogwarts, Harry had stayed mostly invisible to the teachers and adults around him his whole life. But Tom Riddle, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, looked at Harry like he was something to be wanted.

Fault Lines by @vestiges-of-light (M, 151k, complete)

After the world believes that Voldemort has died on that Halloween night, Tom Riddle returns to Hogwarts to claim the Defense post at last. Hogwarts will be a sanctuary, while he waits to find out more about Harry Potter and the prophecy that connects them. But when Grindelwald is broken out of prison, perhaps the magical world needs Voldemort to be publicly resurrected after all.

Fidgeting Anxiety Prevention by MistyTheGhost (E, 1k, complete)

Harry feels nothing but dread about his upcoming NEWTS. Luckily, Professor Riddle offers some assistance.

For Auld Lang Syne by @vdoshu (T, 8k, complete)

When he finds himself disarmed and held at wandpoint in the middle of a snowstorm, Tom’s first thought is that he is an embarrassment to Defence professors the world over. His second thought is something along the lines of, “Oh no, not again."

gratuity by @being-luminous (E, 2k, complete)

In the middle of class, Professor Riddle uses a spell to magically manifest his cock into Harry's arse.

hook, line, and sinker by @purplemineralwater (M, 6k, WIP)

Harry asks Professor Riddle for help in killing Voldemort. Riddle is endlessly amused.

Muggle Studies is Economics in Disguise by May_May_0_0 (M, 12k, complete)

Dumbledore acquiesces when Tom Riddle asks for the defense post. Harry stumbles into this AU version of Hogwarts hoping to teach defense. But there is only teaching one spot available: Muggle Studies. Chaos ensues as Muggle Studies becomes everyone’s favorite class. Tom Riddle is enraged, concerned, and… turned on?

Professor by Day, Vigilante by Night by @duplicitywrites (T, 73k, complete)

Harry and Tom have been together since their fifth-year, proving once and for all that Slytherins and Gryffindors can actually get along. Fifteen years later, they are both professors at Hogwarts and more in love than ever. Harry plays Quidditch with the Weasleys on the weekends, and Tom is secretly a vigilante named Voldemort.

On Holiday by @neurowriter14 (E, 2k, complete)

Harry's thirsty over his DADA professor. Professor Riddle knows.

The Orphaned King by @silenceinwinter2019 (E, 134k, complete)

In an AU where Voldemort wins, Harry starts his seventh year. Two things told Harry it would be an interesting semester: first, the Dark Lord would visit Hogwarts; second, they had a new defense professor, who made Harry’s stomach squirm and called himself Marvolo Gaunt.

What Happens in Vegas by @dividawrites (E, 14k, complete)

Turns out, the role of the Slytherin Head of House is not just ruling over pre-teen idiots and deducting points from Gryffindors. Now Tom has to accompany the seventh-year students on their school trip to Las Vegas. It goes even worse than he could have imagined.

*

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #professor riddle #professor tom riddle

[adore-laur]

AULD LANG SYNE

— gold rush christmas flashbacks (read parts 1-4 first)⏳

❅ ❅ ❅

How's one to know if love is everlasting?  

Harry used to prioritize the notion with you, sealing the promise with a glistening diamond ring on your finger because that's what love is, right? Marrying the one person you can't live without. He vowed to be eternally yours, making up for lost time with secret oaths of pleasure and intimate words that unfurled from his tongue like the petals of a rose. 

Each garland of his ivy intertwined perfectly with yours, the spark of young love nurturing every vine that started to wilt from the first dusting of snowfall.

Yet that light soon eclipsed with a shadow of neglect. 

The last glimpse of radiance Harry witnessed was one he took for granted. You were right there, shining just for him, but the moment burned out right beneath his fingertips. 

He remembers getting lost in the cadence of your voice and the familiarity of your presence. Blue lights had danced over your figure as you stood on your tiptoes and turned the house into a winter wonderland, a certain glow to your skin that only he knew the cause of.

                              ❅ Time Gone By ❅ 

Harry stopped you from gracing around the room like an angel on ice skates by trapping you in a one-armed hug from behind, a champagne flute of vintage Dom Pérignon in his hand. Your delicate fingers reached up to hook a shiny ornament on one of the tree's upper branches, right where they started to narrow. It made him realize it had been far too long since he'd been home as he took in the evergreen standing tall and proud before him. 

Cheek to cheek, Harry swayed your frame to the faint Christmas music playing in the background. He watched your every move, from how you resettled the ornament an inch over because you were a perfectionist to how you leaned back into his chest to get a better look at your work. He wanted to put you in his pocket like a plucked primrose and take you everywhere with him. 

"How many more..." Your voice faded as your spirited eyes scanned the living room. You released yourself from his hold when you spotted the box of ornaments, much to his reluctance. 

Harry sauntered over to the fireplace while taking a sip of his drink. After setting his glass down, he grabbed the fire poker and opened the chain mail curtain to shift the logs around. The flames instantly grew stronger, the crackling louder as orange embers tried and failed to escape. They seemed to know there could only be one clinquant brilliance in the room. 

Magnetizing admiration guided his gaze to you once again as he sat down and folded his legs on the carpet. Once he was comfortable, he grabbed the half-empty bottle of champagne on the hearth and poured more of the effervescent liquid into his glass. The roaring fire heated his back as he coated his tongue with refined notes of ripe fruit and vanilla. Moonlight gleamed through the window and reflected off the many decorations he had helped place in every crevice of the house. The sweet smell of sugar cookies straight out of the oven made his stomach rumble with delight.

Then there was you, the only thing he could truly focus on for longer than a minute.

With your hair pinned back with silver snowflake clips, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. A halting feeling of falling in love all over again nestled into his heart, and you didn't even have to say a single word. 

"Why are you staring at me?" 

Harry almost laughed at your question. How could he not stare at you? You were made for him. 

Smirking over the rim of his glass, he said, "I have a complaint," then took a quick sip and stood. 

You turned back to the tree, pensively looking it up and down. "Do you not approve of my decorating?" 

"You're doing a wonderful job, baby." He emptied his hand and beckoned you toward him. "Come here. Take a break for a little bit." 

You shyly shrugged your shoulder up to your cheek, his favorite habit of yours, and then made your way to him. You wrapped both arms around his waist, then rested your chin on his chest with raised eyebrows in silent questioning. 

"My complaint," he said lowly while smoothing his thumb over your temple that had somehow collected glitter, "is that I can't see the bump when you wear sweaters." 

The tightening of your hold warmed him up, along with the knitted material loosely draped over your upper half. "It's too cold to wear anything else," you replied, smiling knowingly. 

Reaching around your waist, Harry bunched the material of your sweater behind your back and tugged on it until it tightened around the small, growing curve of your stomach. "There," he whispered satisfactorily, grinning and glancing up at you with a boyish glint in his eyes.

You just scoffed amusedly and swatted his hands away before unraveling yourself from him to continue hanging the last of the ornaments. Two glass spheres dusted with lines of gold glitter were still waiting to be put on the tree with your strategic placement. Blue twinkling lights still needed to be strung and weaved around the protruding branches. The tinsel garland adorned with sparkling leaves and flowers still needed to be embellished on the staircase's banister. Harry, however, thought all those things could wait. He wanted his wife's undivided attention. 

One of the cardboard boxes contained mistletoe, so he searched through them while he hummed along to Eartha Kitt's rich, sensual voice. After noisily sifting through miscellaneous Christmas items, he finally found the artificial red berry attached to an even more artificial plant. While your back was turned, he plucked it out and quietly walked toward you, turning up the volume of "Santa Baby" with the remote on his way over. 

"Hey," he said, tickling the nape of your neck with the mistletoe.

You squealed and damn near elbowed him in the stomach. "Stop! You're supposed to be helping me." 

"We have all night to do this." 

"There's only a few more hours until Christmas. We should have done this weeks ago." 

Harry's warm hands traveled under your sweater and splayed over your first-trimester bump. It wasn't fully rounded out, yet it was still a bump, and he loved it dearly, even if a baby hadn't meant to happen so soon. "We've been worried about other things, yeah?" he murmured secretively, even though no one was around to eavesdrop. 

"Yeah," you replied. 

"But just think… this time next year, we'll be spending Christmas together as a family of three." 

"When are we going to tell people? I won't be able to hide it for much longer." 

The anxiousness on your face worried him. He knew that sooner or later, the ravenous public would find out. It was only a matter of time before the vultures came circling, and his pledge of protection would again be at risk. 

"Let's talk about it later," he dismissed, rubbing a circle around your belly before retreating his tender touch and spinning you around. Once you were facing him, he asked, "Can I have a kiss?" 

"You're trying to distract me." 

"Just one kiss. Pretty please."

You trailed your fingers down his arm. "Begging gets you nowhere."

He mockingly grumbled an echo of what you said and then bent down slightly to wrap a strong arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you as you scrambled to hook your pajama-clad legs around him. 

"I want to dance with you," he said, staring at your glowing cheeks. I beg of you." 

"Put me down, then." 

"What kind of dance do you fancy? Polka? Waltz? Ballroom tango?" 

You laughed as Harry set you back on the floor. "Remember when you danced the polka with my grandma at our wedding?" 

"I couldn't keep up with her!" he replied humorously, loving how your eyes reacted by sparkling. "Had me tripping over my feet and everything." 

There was a beautiful mixture of yours and his laugh at the memory, and amid the mirth, Harry grabbed your right hand with his and held it against his chest while his other rested on the small of your back. It became a gentle sway to "Silver and Gold" with the occasional twirl and romantic dip, the two of you spinning around in a personal snow globe. He touched his forehead to yours, lazily smiling down at your lips, then nudged your nose with his before tilting his head to kiss you nice and slow. Lips that tasted like sugar melted into his, soft and addictive. His senses were heightened by the champagne he drank. His feet stopped moving as he got lost in the moment, entirely focused on how your kisses couldn't seem to catch up with his. The breathless sounds you released, and the wet pops of your lips separating made him fall under your enchanting spell. 

"Your phone," you mumbled through lazy kisses. 

"Hmm?" Harry hummed distractedly, kissing you again before opening his eyes and licking his swollen lips. 

"I think your phone is ringing," you said more clearly, pulling away. 

He processed the default ringtone and sincerely hoped it was just his mother wishing him a Merry Christmas from across the pond. Sighing, he unlaced your fingers with his and gave the back of your hand a semi-comforting pat before walking over to his vibrating phone on the hearth. He had seen the disappointed look on your face; it pained him every time. Deep down, he knew who might really be calling him. 

The assumption proved to be correct when he checked the screen. The familiar number was work-related. He answered the call with a guilty scratch behind his head and left you in the living room. 

How easy it could have been to just ignore it, but second nature had a poisonous grasp around his heart. 

❅ ❅ ❅ 

How's one to know when the first crack in the glass will shatter into a million fragments of love astray? 

A capricious shift in your husband's demeanor created the first sign of rupture. Pixelated countenances of despondency and physical guises of weariness were little fissures that shaped a shard so minimal that you could have brushed it aside if not for the inescapable ache in your chest that mercilessly came around at nightfall like clockwork. 

The withering love between you and him was a ticking time bomb made of glass left to be disarmed by whoever was audacious enough to get their hands near the lethal sparks. 

Yet the fuse burnt out quicker than expected. 

That fateful detonation happened at midnight in winter. Harry was the culprit, and he never realized it until his unspoken fear blew up in his face. 

You remember it all too well. The stillness was so deafening in your empty home, barren winter seeping through the walls and icing over a bed of primroses to paralyze them from growing further. 

                             ❅ Time Gone By ❅

A pathetic excuse of a Christmas tree in the corner was the only provider of light in the otherwise caliginous bedroom. Tucked and sat in the opposite corner, you brought your knees to your chest and let your husband's slurred greeting on the phone fill the lonesome silence. It was better than nothing, you supposed. 

The first question you asked him was a straight nosedive toward the forthcoming bone crush. "Have you been drinking?" 

Harry sniffed and replied, "Whiskey, yeah." 

You shook off his lethargic tone and plastered on a smile. "Must be nice." 

"Pour yourself a glass," he said, his voice sounding far away. You assumed you were on speaker. "It's the holidays, innit?" 

"Can't. I need to pump later." 

"Oh. That's right." A strange lull of silence passed. "How is she, by the way?" 

Brass-knuckled fists squeezed your heart when you told him, "She misses you a lot." 

It was an unequivocal lie. You weren't sure if she would even remember him when he eventually came home. In the year since her impromptu arrival, her own dad had been across the world more than he'd been at the house in Nashville. 

"I'll be home at the end of January," Harry assured you. I just have a few more promo appearances that I need to make." 

He didn't need to, did he? With a snap of his fingers and his gift of persuasion, it shouldn't have been that hard to fly back to his family when needed. You wondered if he heard himself, ignorant of the fact that his selfish words pierced you as a mother doing everything on her own. Surely, he felt guilty, but he was an expert at shrouding the parasite. 

"Why can't you cancel everything and stay with us for the holidays?" you asked, letting out a muted laugh. 

Through a phone call with no way to see your face, Harry didn't quite catch your attempt at being humorous. "You know the answer to that," he answered accusatorially. 

"No, I really don't." The mercurial shift in moods with him was something you'd gotten used to. "Tomorrow is Christmas, and you're in Los Angeles. Not with your family. It doesn't make sense to me." 

"Are we arguing right now?" he asked through a yawn. "I'm too tired to argue, love."

Patience wearing thin, you took a brutal dig at his buried flaws. "No, you're too drunk to understand how miserable this has been for me. God forbid that I want you home with our baby." 

Harry scoffed and then dared to bitterly laugh. "Don't give me that petty shit, all right? You know my job, and you know my schedule. It's never changed." 

"It should change now that you're a dad, don't you think?"

"Why do we always end up fighting when I call you? I've got better things I could be doing." 

Cruel. Harry could be so casually cruel when drinking. On the last phone call, his tongue, as dangerous as a deadly weapon, had been laced with Hennessy and Coke. 

"Our daughter's first Christmas, and you aren't here," you thought aloud while shaking your head slowly. The worst type of tears, ones stemming from frustration, prickled behind your eyes. 

"You're being mean," Harry said quietly, every outside noise from his end being cut off except for his breathy voice, sounding like a gust of wind had taken it and carried it to you. His phone was now held up to his ear.

You stood your ground. "I think I'm being fair. I'm not asking much from you." 

"Fuck's sake," he muttered before clearing his throat. "I can't do two things at once."

His words were a poison-soaked dagger to your flesh, cutting right to the bone and unleashing blood of vulnerability and hurt from the man who had once vowed to never cause you such harm. 

Being a husband and a dad—he, of all people, should have been able to balance those two responsibilities with no problem. Where was his sudden spitefulness coming from? 

You let out a morose noise of disbelief and confessed, "I hate you sometimes." 

Harry sighed. "I love you," he said with that goddamned soft voice of his, a blatant attempt to veer away from the issue at hand. 

Your emotions finally broke through, the lump in your throat growing until it started to ache. Looking down at the silver wedding ring on your finger, you wondered if he put it there just to lock you in. Little did he know that you were about to go down the agonizing route to get the key. 

"Right now," you said shakily, "it feels like you don't give a fuck about me or our daughter." 

He groaned, and you could picture him running a heavy palm down his flushed face. "We were having an innocent conversation, honey. Why do you always get pissed at me?" 

A blazing assumption in the dark, considering he was the one who started it. He had lit the fuse with a single spark, and now time was ticking. 

Who would pass the bomb over to whom? 

Whose tears would douse the flare? 

Which one of you was capable, and which was a coward? 

"I get pissed because I wonder why I ever married you," you admitted, trying not to choke on affliction. "I wonder why I ever had a child with you. Why do I stay with you when you treat our family like an afterthought?" 

"You're making me out to be a monster," Harry said with a twinge of helplessness. "I love you, okay? I would die for you both." 

"You barely see us, so I doubt that." 

"Christ, why do you say things like that?" 

Running your fingertips across the carpet to seek comfort, you replied, "It's how I feel, Harry. It's how I've felt for the past year." 

"Then fuckin' leave since I make you so miserable!".

Tick. 

The fragile bomb was in your hands.

Tick. 

There were only seconds left to make a decision. 

Tick. 

You passed it over to him with a detonating question. 

"Do you give me permission?" 

A deathly silence.

"I'll leave," you continued, your ears ringing. "You don't seem to mind. I'll talk with a lawyer, and we can settle a divorce." 

Boom.

Harry inhaled sharply through his nose. "Don't even think about doing that." 

"You just told me to leave!" you shouted. 

"No, hey." His breathing was becoming shallow, and his voice was desperate. "Hey, listen to me. I'll come home. Just give me another month, and I'll be there. I won't leave again. I promise you that." 

This was different from what you had wanted. Married life with him was supposed to have been blissful. Parenthood was supposed to have been alongside him. The room spun around you as the clock ticked with each passing second. It wouldn't change anything. Might as well set it in stone and float it down the river. 

"I don't believe you. I want a divorce." 

"Baby, please. Look, can you video call me? Let me see you." 

You screwed your face up and rested your pounding head against the wall. "I can't look at you right now." 

"I'd like you to look at me when you say you want a divorce, yeah?" He was on fire from the explosion. "God, I'll get on a plane right now, okay? Please." 

He was only willing to do what you asked when he needed to save himself. It was never for you. 

"My decision is final," you told him. "I can't be in this one-sided relationship. All I need is for you to be a dad and a husband. Here, with us. Not thousands of miles away." 

"I'll come home. Let me... shit, let me find my laptop, and I'll book a flight." 

"Well, when you come home, your things will be packed by the front door." 

"Stop," he whispered painfully. 

"Just listen to me, Harry!" you yelled, finally losing your patience. Taking a deep breath, you lowered your voice and continued, "If you love me, you'll let me leave. It's what's best for us." 

"You're my wife." Then, show some compassion. "Do you hear me?" Barely. "You can't just leave like this." Yes, you could. "I'll lose my mind." 

Your mind was made up. 

"I'm gonna hang up, okay?" 

"No, we're going to talk—" 

"When I hang up, I need you to breathe," you interrupted gently. "I need you to stay where you are. I need you to not do anything stupid." 

"You're drunk too, right?" Harry said. "We're both drunk, and we'll forget we had this conversation." You heard a mattress creak and then a slight stumbling of feet. "Let's go to bed, sweetheart. Tomorrow is Christmas. I'll call first thing in the morning." 

"Okay. Bye, Harry." You knew you wouldn't answer.

"Did you get my gifts in the mail? I spoiled you two so much." You didn't like how his breathing had gotten faster. "Hey, can you give her a kiss goodnight for me? Please?" 

"I will." It was the least you could do. "Goodbye, Harry." 

"No, baby, stay on the phone. I love you." 

You swallowed down the last shred of your dignity and pulled the phone away from your ear, telling him to breathe one last time before ending the call. 

All at once, the four walls of your bedroom caved in on you, and the feeling of suffocation began. The ground ate you alive as you sunk down into a fetal position and cried out into the wool carpet until it burned your cheeks. You could blame the drink in Harry's hand all you wanted, but you knew his integrity had fallen short lately. He couldn't be what you needed, so why stay and suffer in a situation so futile? 

A sharp wail suddenly pierced through the wall behind you. Moving your teary eyes to blearily gaze at the clock, you saw the big and little hands join at the Roman numeral twelve. 

How terribly blue of a Christmas, yet the reasoning had been long overdue.

❅ ❅ ❅ 

How's one to know if the bone crush is worth it? 

As Harry looks at you now, a newfound love coursing through his veins, he knows that it is. The fireplace warms you and your daughter, both wrapped in a blanket. You're letting her help you open your last present. 

It's crystal clear that the scene in front of him is entirely what he fought for. A family to protect. The home he sits in. Your love he spent so long missing. 

He walked through hellfire summers to revive your love in him and trudged through icebound winters to ensure you never forgot about him. All to get to that spring garden of everlasting primroses which never entirely died. 

"What did your mum get?" Harry asks his daughter while powering his phone off. 

She holds up a tiny jewelry box and looks back and forth between her parents. You take it from her and inspect it, then look up at Harry and give him an unreadable glance. 

"Open it," he insists softly.

You slowly lift the top, revealing a gold ring that weaves into a flower-shaped diamond. A gasp gets caught in your throat as you take it out. "Harry..." you trail off.

This time, you say his name differently than when you found his wedding ring in his dressing room months ago. This time, you say it with a particular fondness that puts him together again. 

"Thought maybe we could try gold this time," Harry explains, kissing your cheek. "See if that works." 

He thinks of the silver ring you had put back on your finger after you both decided to try again. It reminded him of hurt more than he'd like it to, so he bought a ring with a different, more sentimental purpose. 

"I think it'll work," you say with a genuine smile. 

A Christmas long past left scars still unhealed, but each wound led him right where he belonged. 

❅ ❅ ❅

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #auld lang syne #gold rush series

[scotianostra]

On January 1st 1600 Scotland celebrated the New Year for the first time on this date.

Scotland actually adopted January 1 as New Year’s Day in 1600 when it switched from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar. England wouldn’t do this until 1752. Under the Julian calendar, the new year began on March 25th.

The Julian calendar, had been used throughout the Christian world since ancient times. But by the 16th century, scientists agreed that the old calendar improperly calculated the length of a year and was therefore falling gradually behind. During the reign of Pope Gregory XIII, a new calendar was created, called the Gregorian calendar. The new calendar, which began the year on January 1st, was adopted by most of Europe in 1582, but England and Henry VIII had broken with Rome and therefore did not adopt the new calendar.

The Scottish government decided that January 1st made a better New Year’s Day than March 25th, so the decision was made to make January 1, 1599 the new January 1st, 1600. As a result, 1599 had only nine months.

Most of Europe adopted the Gregorian calendar in 1582 and 10 days were dropped from the calendar. Though Pope Gregory’s papal bull reforming the calendar had no power beyond the Catholic Church, Catholic countries—including Spain, Portugal and Italy—swiftly adopted the new system for their civil affairs. European Protestants, however, largely rejected the change because of its ties to the papacy, fearing it was an attempt to silence their movement. It wasn’t until 1700 that Protestant Germany switched over, and England held out until 1752.

Scotland did not follow suit completely, we kept the same amount of days as the Julian calendar, so year after year in Scotland, as in England, the Julian calendar fell gradually further and further behind so we had changed New Years Day but technically we were still using The Julian calendar, this continued until 1752 when Westminster implemented The Gregorian calendar and dropped 11 days. The last European country to adopt the reform was Greece as recently as 1923.

Another wee New year fact is that The Guinness Book of World Records has listed “Auld Lang Syne” as the world’s most-sung melody, even more than “Happy Birthday.” Poet Robert Burns actually transcribed the lyrics from an older Scottish folk song, and it was later paired with the music to create the traditional song we know so well. Radio play in American starting in 1929 helped to popularize the song on this side of the Atlantic and contributed to it becoming a tradition worldwide.

The pic shows the first page of the papal bull “Inter Gravissimas” by which Pope Gregory XIII introduced his calendar.

#scotland #scottish #history #calendar new year

[casualminerva]

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of eternity with somebody, you want the rest of eternity to start as soon as possible."*

Why GO3 needs to end with a holiday episode

This post starts, as it will end, with Neil Gaiman. Neil, allegedly, has said that Good Omens is a rom-com. Maybe his exact words were “love story,” but let’s not quibble. This piqued my interest because face it, rom-coms are few and far between right now (except for K-dramas, where they are plentiful and quite wonderful, if a bit draggy at 16 episodes). And in my mind the world would be a lot better right now if the Western media giants would stop greenlighting every stabby, bloody, nihilistic cop power fantasy that emerges from the sad resentful minds of perpetually adolescent cishet male producers, and run with romantic comedies by the bucketful, especially ones that will right the wrongs of the ‘90s rom-com golden era. 

Good Omens is one of those, definitely. Our lovers are non-human, gender fluid, older. But the rules of rom-coms are still in place. Season 1 had the meet cute, the clash of opposing life views that gradually softens, our couple being forced to work together with comic results, a brief traumatic separation, and a reuniting in mutual appreciation, if not love. 

Season 2 was the deepening of everything, the camera documenting their faces caressing each other, the mutual rescuing, the “our side won’t like that” restraints dropping, and all of a sudden they’re touching each other out of both affection and habit, until a shitty choice arises to end it all, with a climactic kiss punctuating a truly wrenching moment of, I don’t know yet if you can call it noble idiocy, but it was a wrecking ball moment that told us they’re gonna be separated, with their hearts and ours broken, for a good long time.

Now to S3 (please please Amazon, renew). Season 3 can go so many wild directions since we’re in Second Coming territory, but for our lovers, it’s going to be dreadful to watch them separated. Our hearts are going to be in our throats every time they’re potentially in the same scene together. We’re going to see them alone, doing their own thing a lot, as once again they try to save the world, this time without each other, perhaps on opposite sides.

So what is it that finally breaks impasses and brings rom-com lovers back into each other’s arms? It’s not sudden rain showers or cotillion balls, obviously. It’s the HOLIDAYS. Christmas and Hanukkah and the grandest of them all, New Year’s Eve. It's hard to think of a rom-com that doesn’t have a confession, reunion or long overdue kiss against the backdrop of tipsy NYE celebrants or the sight of snow through glowing windows. It's the ultimate serotonin release mechanism, it conquers worry, it heals heartache, it just -- works.

I can imagine Neil and John Finnemore having a wonderful time playing with, twisting and subverting the holiday trope, all the while using that same trope to delicately land the plane of Aziraphale and Crowley’s fraught relationship.

We already know that the subject of Christmas lights is a sticky wicket for the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association. A possible incentive to get Aziraphale back in the bookshop? We also can guess the effect Auld Lang Syne, the most shamelessly sentimental song in any film in all of recorded history, would have on a certain Scottish-leaning demon who has watched his share of Richard Curtis movies. I hope the Bentley will play it for the two of them (not the bebop version though) because, well, vavoom. We will all be piles of sobbing goo.

There’s so much material. The birth of Jesus as a minisode (welcome back, Gabriel!), other biblical and religious stuff, carolers (demons or angels or both?), Dickens references, parties, dancing. Finally, a gentle snow transforming Whickber Street into a dreamland, as our two tired but eternally hopeful ineffable lovers reunite once again, worse for wear but a little wiser, put aside their differences for good, and seal the deal with a really, really fucking GOOD, LONG, KISS. 

So … anyway. I started writing this post as kind of a joke, but accidentally made myself a believer. Oh, and I said the post ends with Neil Gaiman, because it does. Every New Year, Neil writes a tender and beautiful message of love, hope, and new beginnings to his readers. Here’s trusting he does the same for Good Omens 3, and that God, wherever She is, blesses us, every one.

*Title quote pays homage to When Harry Met Sally, the greatest of all rom-coms (fight me).

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #aziraphale and crowley #renew good omens #aziraphale #crowley

[intothemultifandom]

Auld Lang Syne || Chapter One

Pairing: Han Gyeong-Su x Reader

Summary: Class 2-2's Vice President: VP.

In which the sensible Vice-President does their best to keep their little band of survivors alive.

Tags/Warnings: reader insert, character death, swearing, canon divergence, pre-relationship, angst + more

Chapter One

Harabeoji lays on the hospital bed, unaware that the world continues without him.

You're his only visitor today. The room is cold, and his heart monitor fills the silence since you won't.

You don't know what to say, where to start.

Do you tell him that he needs to wake up? That since he fell sick, your step-grandmother used his coma as an opportunity to move everyone from your family home (sans yourself) and that her son, your half-uncle and proxy, is already making deals to have the line of succession passed to him instead?

Seoul is too far from Hyosan for you to visit him, to remind him to keep fighting and to keep vigil at his bedside, but they moved his treatment here anyway. Have already brought themselves a sky-line apartment right in the centre.

If you told him that they've left you alone, that they've left you behind, would that be enough to wake him up?

On your lap, you've brought a collection of Western comic books you've been reading to practise your English and since you need to fill the quiet somehow, you pick one out to read:

The Walking Dead, it says.

If Harabeoji finds your pick distasteful, he doesn't say.

(You wish he would).

In a class-room setting, the Vice-President is meant to ensure that there is strong communication between the Class Reps and the President. When the President is absent, it is up to them to act in their stead. To lead the class through ever-changing situations with a clear head and mature outlook.

At times, you enjoy being responsible for such tasks. The position gives you a sense of purpose on days when you feel set adrift, makes you feel more present as you tend to your responsibilities and resolve minor conflicts. Those are the days you feel like an ordinary student, responsible only for the happenings of your class.

Other times however, it's a bitter reminder. Of Harabeoji who's counting on you to do good, of the dynasty you're set to inherit in his name and of the interests you've had to sacrifice in favour of activities more appealing for Universities overseas. Like being Vice-President.

Joon-Yeong insists you should have been Class President when the positions are first announced. It's unfair Nam-Ra gets the position because of her Mother's bribery when you're not only first in class but have given up more to commit to your school's night self-learning programme and your new role.

He says it with an air of indifference as he crosses his arms, but his eyes burn behind his glasses. You think it's because losing the Presidency to a friend will make the loss hurt a little less, and because it would excuse you from not hanging out with him and the others as much as you used to.

You don't point it out to him, though. Joon-Yeong has to come to his own conclusion for things to stick. Instead, you make a show of pointing your finger right at his nose as you order him–and the others watching–to call you "VP" henceforth.

It's not much, but if you show that you're not upset with the position you're given then your friends have no grounds to be angry on your behalf. You just hope that overtime, they'll come around about the Class President you do have in the meantime.

You did in the end, hadn't you?

Speaking of your Class President, Nam-Ra always complains about the music playing on your headphones whenever she slides into her seat next to you, but it doesn't stop her from leaning over your textbook to assess your work.

You respond by turning your volume all the way up so the melody of Auld Lang Syne rattles your ears, mouth curling when she nods begrudgingly at your answers.

There isn't much she'll find to begin with, but it's routine; Nam-ra grumbles about your music in the morning as she looks over your work (way better than her rhythm techno beats, mind you), and you pretend this isn't her odd way of showing her friendship.

Silently, you offer her a piece of Poki from your half-opened bag, your own show of friendship, and she accepts the treat after a long, drawn out moment. Even though she doesn't say anything, you can see her face soften in the corner of your eye, and beyond the obvious, you're glad that she's not actually mad about your song choice for today.

"Wake me up when Ms. Park comes," you say after a moment, falling into your normal position as you cross your arms over your textbook, cushioning your head as you close your eyes. Nam-ra predictably grumbles at your command, but doesn't make a move to disturb you.

And drifting off, you hope that today is another calm day.

It's not.

Hyeon-Ju's bloodied entrance is too shocking for the day to be anything but calm.

Even when she's whisked away by Ms. Park, Su-Hyeok and a few others to the infirmary, the shock gives way to unease and the feeling settles under your skin before you can do anything about it. It makes you itch to do something, anything.

Ms. Park instructs you all to resume studying but hearing what Hyeon-Ju said and seeing her state in general, more than half the class group together to brainstorm what happened between your classmate and Mr. Lee.

Nam-Ra seems to be the only one actually studying and while it looks like you are too, with all your pens laid out and your head tilted down to your book, you're actually listening in on the chatter around you. Pulling out your stationary was just a show of solidarity, if anything.

From what you gather, no one seems to say anything that corroborates your unease or the sense of foreboding that's taken root. Dae-Su's idea is perverse, Wu-Jin is quick to slap him on the back of his head, and I-Sak returns with a troubled face before the others can chime in.

At once, everyone turns their attention towards her, even Nam-Ra, but the weight of someone's stare grows heavy on the side of your face so you turn to other side of the room instead, catching Gyeong-Su's gaze just as he snaps his head back to I-Sak.

You're sure he knows you caught him staring at you because the tips of his ears are pink, and his posture is rigid as he faces the front. If you weren't feeling so agitated, your skin still itching, you'd smile at his embarrassment.

How long will he wait before he confesses?

"–What happened? Is Hyeon-Ju okay?" Wu-Jin chimes. He kneels next to I-Sak when he asks, and you begin tapping your finger on your desk when she speaks, pulled back to the matter at hand.

When you saw Hyeon-Ju last, the poor girl was delirious as she stumbled into the room, eyes fluttering as she tried to stay awake. Her face was bloodied, her hair was matted and when she collapsed by Ms. Parks' feet, she could could barely move.

However, the Hyeon-Ju I-Sak left in the infirmary sounds like a completely different person.

Having to be restrained as she thrashed on the bed. Hissing. Biting.

She scratched Ms. Kim, I-Sak says.

There's a cold sweat running down the back of your neck the more you imagine it, different scenarios flitting through your head in quick succession, but when I-Sak mentions some weird shot Mr. Lee injected her with, the agitation you feel reaches a crescendo.

You stop tapping, deciding that you need to see things yourself.

Nam-Ra glances at you from the corner of her eye, and you hope the look you flash her doesn't belie your nerves.

It turns out though that the Class President must consider you more of a friend than you realised (the kind of friend that you cover for), because her mouth twists like she knows you're up to something but doesn't push.

"I'll find a mop to clean up the mess," you lie, grabbing your bag.

"Hurry back," is Nam-Ra's cool reply.

This is a multi-fic story. 

I intend to post this story on Wattpad and Ao3 shortly. Maybe even Quotev and FF.net, too. 

#all of us are dead #aouad #all of us are dead fic #aouad fic #kdrama #netflix #han gyeong su #han gyeong su x reader #aouad x reader #multific #choi nam ra #lee cheong san #su hyeok #on jo #oh joon yeong #dae su #wu jin #auld lang syne #auld lang syne fic

[suchalonelysunflower]

Hold on to You (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Fem! Reader

Requested? By my darling @hoodhoran

Summary: Based on the song "New Years Day" by Taylor Swift, a glimpse of what happens after the party

Warnings: Fluff. Some grammar errors (English is not my first language I'm sorry)

Author's Note: A small blurb for all of you, I really hope you like it. Remember that REBLOGS are super important and so are COMMENTS AND INTERACTIONS remember to always SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS. Hope you like it and Happy reading

My masterlist // taglsit on bio

*

The sun was coming up, he could tell by the clear, pink, and baby blue lines that started to paint the sky. A new hello to a new year, and he couldn’t help but smile, excited for what’s to come.

He killed his cigarette on the ashtray, letting out the smoke from his lungs and into the cold, breezy air, and watched it disappear into the dawn. The tiredness of the night before, the party Luke hosted took most of his energy. He was definitely not twenty-one anymore. But that was okay, he wouldn’t want to go back to the past anyway. He wouldn’t want to change anything that led him to where he is right now: standing on the balcony as he welcomed a new year.

A couple of knocks on the door woke him up from his daze, making him turn around to the sound and smile at what he found.

You were standing there, leaning against the doorframe with his coat in hand. Your short, black velvety dress was covered in glitter thanks to the number of decorations the hosts put into making this a great NYE party. Your high heels shoes were dangling from your fingers under the coat, leaving your feet covered in some old ugg boots that they kindly lent you a few hours ago.

Your eyes were sleepy, he could tell by just one look. But the smile on your face was so fond and filled with love that he couldn’t help but to take out his phone and snap a picture of you. Promising himself he would make it his new phone background in the morning.

“I look like a mess,” You giggled when you noticed what he did.

“You look gorgeous” He retorted, walking up to you.

He opened his arms and you immediately found your place between them, head falling on his chest to listen to his heartbeats.

“You’re warm” You mumbled, burying yourself into his embrace.

“Here,” He said, grabbing his coat from you and putting it over your shoulders “Now you can be warm, too”

You smiled as you stood on your tiptoes, placing a small, lingering kiss on his lips.

“I love you, Cal”

“I love you more,” He said, cupping your cheeks and kissing you again “Ready to go?”

A nod on your part solidified your decision. He put his arm around your waist and brought you closer to him, kissing the top of your head as you made your way downstairs.

The party was already coming to an end. Ashton was standing in the kitchen talking with people Calum is sure he met the night before, he raised a glass as if to say bye to them. You giggled and waved at him while Calum shot him the middle finger just because. Luke was sprawled on his couch cuddling next to his girl, sound asleep as their guests left their house without making a sound to not wake them up. You knew Michael had left not so long ago, claiming it was time for him and his girl to go as well since they had plans in the morning.

Glitter was covering the floors; red solo cups piled neatly on the dining room table; empty bottles of champagne could be mistaken as decorations all over the house. The playlist Michael made was now calm, mellow music as an acoustic rendition of Auld Lang Syne played through the speakers, and Calum couldn’t help but hum along as you got to the door.

“Looks like everyone had a good time” You murmured, leaning against him as you waited for your Uber home.

“I know for sure I did,” He smiled “I’ve been waiting for that midnight kiss all year long”

You laughed and hid your face in his neck, humming as you got pulled in by the smell of his cologne and cigarettes, something you’d never thought you could ever find a liking to until you found him.

“Uber’s here, babe,” Calum said, running his hand up and down over your arms to keep you warm.

He guided the two of you to the car, thanking the driver for picking you up and clarifying his address with him. You leaned your head on his shoulder and started playing with his hand, tracing the marks with your fingertips. Soon, he kisses you on the temple and cups your hand in his, squeezing it lightly as you giggled.

“God, I love the sound of your laugh,” He confessed, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“Are you kidding? I sound like a dying walrus”

“It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, love”

You laughed again “The guys were right, you are a weird one, Mr. Hood”

“And so that would someday make you the weird Mrs. Hood?”

“Maybe,” You smiled, looking up at him “Ask me again in a year”

When you reached your place, Calum paid the driver with a generous tip for being the first day of the year. He helped you get out of the car and carried your shoes at the tip of his fingers.

At the door, you were soon greeted by Duke who was still wearing that awful Christmas sweater you bought him as a gift. Calum leaned down to pick him up and you kissed his little head before heading to the kitchen where you refilled his water and food tray as Cal let him out to go to the bathroom.

He came to the kitchen after a while, hugging you from the back and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Shall we?” He said and you nodded, following him to your room.

There, the two of you continued with your nighttime routine. You took off your shoes and Calum helped you with the zipper of your dress. He took off his shirt and joined you in the bathroom. You brushed your teeth together and you wiped off your make-up as he started with his skincare routine, something you adopted from him and followed every step as well. Soon, pajamas were on and you slipped into bed. Calum opened his arms and you accommodated yourself against his chest, breathing calmly as your heartbeats beat in sync.

“I love being here with you,” He confessed “Just us”

“We really are turning into that old married couple, huh?”

“That’s my favorite part of it. It’s always a new memory with you, even if we have a normal day. Knowing I’ll wake up with you is the best feeling ever”

“Then let’s hope for a new year filled with mornings together” You smiled, kissing him one last time “Happy New Year, Calum”

“Happy New Year, baby”

He stayed awake till you fell asleep, watching you doze off to your dream. And he just couldn’t help it. He was absolutely in love with you, completely and utterly gone. He knew it was time, all of the signs were there and it was his turn to act on them, this time he was more confident than ever.

Calum looked over at his closet and smiled, already thinking of that little blue velvet box hidden between his socks and the smile on your face when you hopefully say “Yes”

* *

tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodharlow @littledrummeraussie @bubblegum183 @irwin-fletcher-ash @wiiildflowerrr @in-a-world-of-fandoms @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @in-superbloom @sadcupofcoffee @personalmuyverypersonal @vtte @as-hs-blog @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @weasleytwinscumslut @fairytrice @colourfulcal @nibin0912 @hfkait @savagejane1 @youneedtocalumdown @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @alltimesos @wontlastimokwiththat @cncoangelss @whywontyoulovemecami @theimpossiblehologramtree @perriexed @abiancajg @rewmuslupin @icelily13 @bookthingz @fckingpernico @multistann @averageantichrist @a-darneddarling @plaidshirtyears @ihavenoideawhattodowithyou @bittersweetb4by @aria-grace-scott @thestarsandtheircoffee @bvbygxrl @luisa180206 @xxxlaura @iamdayanaz @flyingburrito123 @drugerlime

#calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #suchalonelysunflower #calum fic #Calum blurb #calum Hood imagine #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood fluff #calum hood blurb #calum 5SOS #5sos calum #5sos blurb #New Years day #taylor Swift #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer calum

[familyvideostevie]

"dont get me started on my steve playing piano hc" I would like to hear it 👀 I am down for that hc hoo boy!

right. ok. I hc that as a rich kid only child from the Midwest suburbs, Steve was made to take piano lessons from like probs age 9/10ish to at least freshman year of high school and then he probs stopped bc he was in at least two sports and he had no time. But I really truly think he played for a while and he’s not bad like he was good enough that he’s got an ear for it and he can probs play a few things still and he can read music if you give him a sec to remember how and like if you’re out and there’s a piano if you ask him enough he’ll play a little and he knows enough to teach you like fur Elise or chopsticks or something. He doesnt really talk about it bc it’s kinda nerdy also he never really had the chance to get good also he didn’t LOVE it but he doesn’t mind if you ask bc you do think it’s so hot. Also he plays auld lang syne at a NYE party and you kiss him as he’s playing. ok that’s it thank you for listening

#I just love this hc #inbox Steve #steve harrington headcanon #Steve harrington x reader

[tallbluelady]

And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

2022 was honestly one of the better years in my adult life.

I started my current job on January Fourth, and despite the ups and downs, it's been fulfilling without being completely exhausting. A good half of the days I can even doodle and write!

I think what I'm really proud of is that I put myself out there. I made one of those "looking for mutuals" posts and... it actually worked. I opened myself up, not expecting all that much to be honest, but I've found my circus.

If you told me years ago that I would have a group of friends who I would be playing make believe with our original Final Fantasy characters at age 30... I don't know if I would have believed you. I would be excited as hell, but it sounds so strange! But that's my reality. Everyday I open up discord and laugh and cry and stim in happiness.

Here's too a fulfilling 2023!

#rowan argentas #azem minthe #i thought i was gonna do more of a write up but nope #sometimes you just have to give your past self a hug and move forward #taking a cup of kindness

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Television - The Bowery Ballroom, New York City, December 30 / December 31, 2017

From the Bottom Line to CBGB to the Bowery Ballroom — we're taking a little tour of NYC venues past and present this week. Here, we're headed back to TV Land with two of Television's last New York City performances! Historic stuff. Previously uncirculated tapes, too, courtesy of longtime friend of the blog Daniel Bourque. Thank you, Dan! These shows are full of cool/interesting playing, long jams, some unusual rarities and a generally lively atmosphere — the New Year's Eve gig in particular. Take it away, Dan!

Dan's show notes:

These shows were meant to close out 2017 and ring in the New Year, and I have always wondered how they happened since Tom and Television were not exactly known for the jovial atmosphere they brought to the stage, nor were they – how do I put this? A party band. "Hey, you know who knows how to have a good time? Tom Verlaine!" Nevertheless, the shows were sold out and everybody seemed to be having a great time; I certainly did.

Night 1: The set is fairly standard for live performances by the band during their final years and heavily focused on songs from Marquee Moon with "1880 or so" the only song from the eponymous reunion album and nothing from Adventure. "Little Johnny Jewel," the band's first single, is played as an encore. Both "Persia" and "I'm Gonna Find You" which were never (as far as we know) recorded by the band appear, as does "The Man In The Backyard," a true rarity only played a couple of times live, both solo by Verlaine and with Television. After "Persia" is played, the band pause for one of their lengthy (and frequent!) tuning sessions during which Tom comments: "Our old manager said don't bother tuning because nobody can ever tell. But I disagree with him."

Night 2: Tom is unusually talkative during this show after having hardly spoken to the crowd at all the previous night. Maybe it's the just the holiday but he seems in a positively cheerful - even playful - mood much of the time. Early on he archly complains about the lights "Time for a private conversation with the lighting director" and after "1880 Or So" promises to teach the crowd a dance (!) shortly before midnight. Then during "Torn Curtain" (which is a bit messy as a result) he calls for security when a rowdy inebriated fan down front passes out, and comments afterwards "I think our unfortunate super celebratory stoner is gone.”

Like the previous night the set is very heavily weighted toward songs from Marquee Moon, with "1880 Or So" off of the eponymous reunion album the lone exception. Mid-set the band start "Friction" only to stop it abruptly then play it later as an encore. Just before midnight Tom recites a poem, then after counting down to the New Year the band play a loose cover of "Auld Lang Syne" with Eleanor Friedberger joining the band onstage and contributing some vocals. Hendrix playing "The Star-Spangled Banner" it certainly isn't, but it's a unique one-off and fun to hear the band play it in their very distinctive style. This is also as far as I know (maybe Patti Smith?) the only Television performance with a guest appearance by another artist. This is followed by a ragged version of "Psychotic Reaction," a cover the band have played many times over the years. There are also a couple of unreleased songs, "Persia" and "I'm Gonna Find You" and late in the set the band play another new song, "The Eel," which is a bluesy rocker. This, Tom points out is what he meant when he said he was going to teach the crowd a dance!

#television #tom verlaine #eleanor friedberger

[invisibleraven]

“ oh, what the hell. let’s do it. “ for Writer's Choice! ❤️

Luke glanced around the party, taking in all the happy faces. Scratch that, all the happy couples who were milling around waiting for midnight to hit.

And here Luke was, all alone.

God, why had he even agreed to come to this stupid New Years party? Here he was, a tepid, sweaty drink in his hand, with no one to kiss as the clock turned over. He knew it was a stupid tradition, kissing the person you wanted to spend the next year with. He didn't really have that person, but he also didn't want to stick out like the lonely sore thumb with no one to kiss.

"Hey Luke!"

Reggie almost stumbled into Luke, his face flushed, eyes a little glassy, and the smell of whiskey on his breath. But he was grinning wide as he slung his arm over Luke's shoulder, the leather of his jacket warm against Luke's skin.

"Hey buddy," Luke chuckled. "Having a good time?"

"The best! Flynn let me DJ for a bit so she could dance with Julie, which was super cool, but she still wouldn't let me put on any country music."

"Yeah, because Flynn has taste," Luke said, grinning.

Reggie stuck his tongue out at Luke, "Mean." Then he took notice of the clock, midnight creeping nearer and nearer. "Did you find anyone to ring in the new year with?"

Luke shook his head. "Nah, you?"

"Not yet, but the amount of singles at this party is minimal. Might have to skip this year," Reggie replied with a shrug. Last year he'd had Kayla to kiss, but given she was currently sucking face with Carrie in a corner, that avenue was out.

"We could always kiss each other," Luke suggested.

"Us?" Reggie asked.

"Why not?" Luke replied. "You're supposed to kiss the person you want to spend your year with. And you know we always have each other. So why not?"

"Oh what the hell, let's do it!" Reggie said, glancing to where the countdown had begun.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six..." the chant started.

Luke reached out and grabbed Reggie's hand, the two of them sharing nervous smiles.

"Five. Four. Three. Two. One... Happy New Year!"

The boys turned to each other as Auld Lang Syne started playing, leaning in to press their lips together tentatively. Only as cheers and whistles started ringing out, they kept kissing. Deepening their lip lock, stepping in closer, grasping at waists and hair, clutching each other.

Finally they stepped back, breathing heavy, bright red with blushes, almost unable to look at one another.

"Damn," Luke remarked. "And I thought the fireworks would only be happening outside."

"You dork," Reggie snorted. "But um... me too."

"So whaddya say Reg, wanna spend the next year with me?" Luke asked with all his bravado and a waggle of his eyebrows.

"How about you take me on a date first and we see how it goes from there?" Reggie offered, holding his hand out for Luke to take.

Luke reached out, pulling Reggie into him, offering a small, sincere grin. "I can do that," he whispered before pulling him in for yet another kiss, and hoping that next year, he wouldn't have to think about who to kiss at midnight.

Turns out, he never needed to worry about that again.

#filled prompts #ficlet #ruke #peterpatter #julie and the phantoms

[fandomarray]

Brb. Just going to cry thinking about you and Peter at the annual Stark New Year’s Eve party.(might need to turn this into a full blown fic)

It’s an upscale affair as usual but you and Peter have on the traditional silly hats, glasses, and party horns. As the countdown starts and the first few notes of Auld Lang Syne begin to play out you two begin to sway in time to the tune looking around at your avengers family and Aunt May, then finally back at each other.

There’s a hint of sadness blooming in your chest.The two of you have made so many great memories this year and you can’t possibly imagine it getting any better than this. Peter notices your shift in mood. You get inside your own head too much sometimes and he can tell this is one of those moments. He always does somehow. He softly tilts your chin upward until you’re brought back to the present at the sight of those sweet brown eyes that let you know everything will be okay just in time for the perfect midnight kiss.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman #peter parker x reader

[arfermweee]

Cookie and Merry when the microwave goes off

Cookie and Merry: 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! (starts kissing, plays Auld Lang Syne)

Melba and Vesta: Guys, it’s not even Midnight yet. Can you stop making out every time the microwave goes off?

#animal crossing #cookie #merry #melba #vesta #cookie x merry #melba x vesta

[notcruel]

@bulletsinthegun​ sent 🎉💋 

Things weren’t great. Hell, when were they truly ever. It was always something either small or huge that led them both to being at odds. There had only been one actual party that they had gone to together where they truly felt like the king and queen that East Highland proclaimed them to be. Jaw tightening as she heard the countdown start she wasn’t sure if she could completely swallow down her pride. She could have stuck to her guns, she could have seen if Nate would come to her, humbled just to acknowledge that he had hurt her. Instead she could see that some girl was near him, giving him eyes. “Oh hell no,” she narrowed her eyes. It was like someone had a death wish. She could feel Kat’s eyes on her, the way she was probably telling her no already. It didn’t matter what Kat’s eyes said, what her pride was screaming at her to do. Her body carried her over to him.Girl already ready maddy extended her arm and simply moved her aside. It wasn’t forceful but just demanding enough for the girl to move away. “Shut up,” she began, already wanting to stop Nate from making some comment about what she had done. 

Standing on her toes she tugged at his shirt to bring him down. Her lips against his she closed her eyes and tried to forget all of the reasons she was upset, all of the reasons she should have never walked over. She knew if she were to open her eyes too quickly that they would betray her. Her eyes were often clear indicators of just where her mental state was even when her face was stone cold. Eyes still not opening as auld lang syne continued to play she held her breath. “You’re not supposed to kiss anyone else on new year’s besides me.” Her voice a bit shaky towards the end as the knot in her throat grew. 

send   🎉💋    for sender’s muse to give receiver’s muse a new year’s kiss at midnight.

#dyn: maddy x nate #bulletsinthegun

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

//Started the new year playing a round of Clue with my parents, eating 12 grapes, and sadly getting a migraine (oh well). Richard, meanwhile, is sloshed out of his mind and singing 'Auld Lang Syne' at the top of his lungs.

Either way, I hope you all have a good New Years Eve! Eat those 12 grapes, drink that bubbly, and anything else that will make this next year great! Happy New Years, my dears 💛//

#ooc;the gremlin behind the curtain #the blog train goes queue queue