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thisismeracing · 9 months

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God is a woman | MS47

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1k ― Warnings: +18; not proofread; suggestive content and mentions of sex; Minors DNI! ― Summary: Making out in bed never felt this deep and heart-stopping, but dating Mick and having him love you is a full experience of being a goddess. Your hips were his altar, and he would swear to everyone that God is a woman because you're it to him. ― A/n: I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts by reblogging and/or leaving me an ask (anons are on) *mwah* 🤍

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

The candles were lit by the bedside table and the furniture by the closed window casting a warm glow in the whole room. It was early in the evening, but Mick and Yn were already in bed. In fact, they haven’t left it since the early hours of the day, just soaking up each other’s company and enjoying a lazy and free day. She was wearing one of his shirts and panties, while Mick settled for sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, showing Yn the perfect amount of skin and trimmed hair that trailed into his boxers, but she was engrossed in one of her poetry books, while Mick tried to gather his thoughts after waking up from a nap. His fingers were tracing shapes on one of her thighs that were on top of his, he would squeeze and massage, and then with the tip of his fingers write his own poems.

“It’s so interesting how Rupi Kaur portrays the feminine as divine, the creator, the goddess…” Yn observes out loud catching Mick’s attention.

“That’s because it is.” His short answer makes her close the book, searching for his face.

“Huh?”

Mick shakes his head and takes the opportunity to hover over her figure, eager for some of her love and light. Yn smiles, forgetting about whatever question she had on the tip of her tongue, the only thing her mouth wants now is him.

When he dips his face and kills the space between them Yn whimpers widening her legs to shape it around his narrow waist, and lacing her arms around his broad shoulders. Mick coos when Yn drags her hips up to grind against his crotch. He trails wet kisses around her collarbone and neck while whispering praises and Yn enjoys it all with her eyes closed. She feels his fingers on her waist, he grips and squeezes, and then his fingers are tracing shapes on her tummy, and just a few seconds after they’re holding her ass softly, bringing her close to him.

Yn moans.

Mick mumbles something in German.

Yn moans louder.

He smiles against her skin before chasing her lips again and kissing the air out of her lungs.

“Even your skin tastes good,” Mick whispers in a jovial tone before dragging his tongue on her neck, and Yn giggles hugging him close and looking for his neck to hide her face onto.

“Micky…”

“And your lips, they have the perfect shape, Schatzi,” the point of his index finger and middle finger trace around the shape of her lips, and Yn bites it lightly.

He feels his heart skip a beat when she mouths an “I love you” to which he answers by pressing their foreheads together and staring into her eyes. The room is silent, but Yn can almost hear all the words his blue orbs are screaming.

When his back hit the mattress and her body is on top there’s a glow on his smirk, and they enjoy the hazy and the push and pull of the frantic kisses exchanged. The blonde is the one who pauses for a second, taking a deep pull of air into his lungs, and carefully watching his girlfriend on top of him. Mick’s fingers trace the outline of Yn’s nipples, her belly, collarbone, shoulders, jaw, and chin, before finally answering the question she threw at him minutes ago.

“The feminine. You’re living proof that God is probably a woman.” He grips her waist and Yn moans with the contact. “I’m your follower, your hips are my altar,” he whispers into her ear before biting and nipping her earlobe.

And then he dips to say something else Yn can’t catch because it’s certainly German and it’s whispered against her skin in such a low tone she can only concentrate on the vibrations between her breasts.

“You always make me feel so good,” it’s a confession, but it's nothing new to Yn. It’s his prayer to her. “I can’t get enough of you, Yn. I could never. Ich werde dich ewig lieben.”

“Micky,” Yn can only meow his name too entranced by his touches and words.

“Does that feel good, Schatzi?” Mick asks and Yn nods, “Use your words.” It’s his soft demand to which she obliges.

“It feels perfect, please- just- kiss me, touch me, Mick.”

“You know I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

The German keeps muttering praisings to her while kissing his way up to her lips. One of his hands is inside her shirt, caressing and playing with her boobs and nipples. He’s eager to nip and kiss it the way he’s doing with the exposed skin of her collarbone and neck, that’s why his smile gets bigger when Yn makes a move to take off the piece of clothing and throws it somewhere in the room. She lies fully on top of him and he sighs in contentment with her warmth against him.

“You’re so pretty, honey.” He kisses the side of her head and almost melts when he feels Yn’s smile against his skin, he wants to engrave it there, to always feel it, to always know that she’s happy and taken care of. “Your body takes me so well all the time,” and this time she hides her face in the crook of his neck, though her body seems unaware of how shy Yn is feeling because her lower half ruts against Mick’s hardening cock. “You’re a goddess.” He takes her hands and kisses each finger, opening her palm and dragging it softly against his cheeks. “I love you so so much.”

And then Yn is smiling against his skin again. Feeling warm and fuzzy. Feeling loved, adored, worshipped, chosen. Knowing that indeed whatever she wanted the man under her would give. Sun, stars, the world, Mick would try for her.

“There’s a spot for you in my heart, only for you.” She nips on his white skin and kisses her way back to his lips, but before their lips touch their eyes met, talking, confessing what no idiom can translate: how transcending loving each other can be.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I didn't quite like this piece, but I hope the anon that sent the request and you guys enjoyed it at least a bit <3 Don’t forget to water a plant and water this account too (you water this account by reblogging and leaving me a message if you’re comfortable, it means a lot to me, and makes my imagination bloom just like a flower would) *forehead kiss*

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devildom-moss · 10 months

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For requests maybe some Satan x Gn!Mc NSFW. Maybe Mc wants to try out some like Primal Prey type dynamic stuff but Satan is worried about hurting them. Maybe some like fluff almost like comfort stuff where Mc reassures Satan that they trust him? You write him so well, thank you so much and have a great day!

Sorry this one took so long, anon. But I hope you'll like what I came up with. Thank you for the request, and I'm glad you like how I write Satan. Hopefully, this one will not disappoint because this is a whole new side of Satan and I had a lot of fun with it. I don't write a lot of sub! or bottom!MC - but especially the former, but oh boy.. I did not think I would appreciate dom!top!Satan as much as I do right now.

Primal Play with Satan

(Satan x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (dom!Satan) (sub!MC) (NSFW tags: bottom!MC, primal play, outdoor sex, growling, biting, scratching, marking, hunter/hunted, predator/prey, demon form Satan, edgeplay - a little bit, oral - receiving, mild degradation and name calling including affectionate slut shaming/use of the terms "slut" and "whore," mentions of breeding regardless of whether that's physically possible, no condom, no lube bad do not recommend, creampie, aftercare) (other tags: fluff, reverse comfort, lots of plot)

Word Count: +3,600

You and Satan were sitting in his room, reading into the night. You were laying in Satan’s bed with a collection of short mysteries that he had recommended. Satan was sat in his armchair with a book of poems; his reading glasses had begun to slip down the bridge of his nose, but he paid it no mind. A low, shaky breath left him, and he called out to you, “MC, come here for a minute. I want to read this one for you.”

“Alright, just a second,” you replied calmly while you finished the paragraph you were reading. You placed a bookmark in and joined Satan.

He pat his thigh, motioning you to sit, and once he had you in his grasp, his chin came to rest on your shoulder. There was something about the way his long fingers curled around the book, plunged between pages to mark his place as he focused on getting you comfortable, that dried your throat and made your thoughts wander. When he opened the page, there was a short block poem next to a painting of a pomegranate in a muted pink with purple undertones.

Satan dropped into a sultry voice as he read – his breath tickling your neck slightly:

“I want to stain your skin

like pomegranate,

dripping honey and vanilla,

soft on your lips,

along your thighs.”

Satan’s free hand caressed up your thigh as he continued to read:

“Candlelight casts shadows,

grand and trembling

on your walls.

When I bite down on your shoulder,”

You half expected to feel his teeth against your skin. The second of tension was spent bracing yourself, hopefully, but it was quickly eased – or rather, unrewarded – when he fell to the next line.

“I catch your back

in the vanity mirror,

blood bespeckling scratches

down

your

spine. Flush against

black silk,

I hold you on my tongue”

Heat overwhelmed you; you wanted his tongue on you so urgently that you began to squirm in his lap, feeling him harden slightly. He was doing this on purpose. Satan held his tongue, letting the short space between lines build anticipation. He inched closer, almost kissing behind your ear, then whispered, “and wait for you to burst.”

You turned to stare at him. Those bright green eyes stared back at you – somehow feeling as if they ought to be a cold shade of green. You felt frozen there.

Satan set his book down atop a large, only semi-precarious tower of books so he could get both of his hands on your body. Certainly, Satan wasn’t the largest demon – he wasn’t even the largest in the household. However, when he took you in his arms, you felt engulfed – if not physically, then by his presence alone. One of his hands slowly ran up the front of your neck, guiding your gaze up to his ceiling.

“Let me make love to you,” he purred against your shoulder.

“Actually,” you hesitated, “there’s something I want to try.”

You got up and straddled his lap, facing him completely, before you told him that you wanted to try primal play with him. In truth, he wasn’t quite sure what you were asking of him. He had an inkling but couldn’t form a clear thought about it in his mind.

You brought up that werewolf story he had read recently – the one with that spicy scene where the love interest stalked the main character through the forest until inevitably, the mc was in the wolf’s grasp, and then “. . .you know the rest.”

Satan blushed. Sometimes he forgot that he lent some of his adult romance and erotica to you after he finished reading it. Don’t get me wrong, he loved that you were both comfortable enough to essentially share porn with each other, but the thought that you remembered it a few weeks later embarrassed him.

Unfortunately, all he could think about was your poor knees on a rough forest floor or how hard he might thrust into you or grab you with all that adrenaline in his system. What if you stayed out of his grasp for too long and he got frustrated – and what if he turned that mild anger against you? He couldn’t stand the thought of harming your precious body. Despite all of Satan’s rage, he only wanted to make you feel comfortable and good. Moreover, he didn’t trust himself to get into such an intense and violent mindset.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Satan’s grip on you softened, and he sounded apologetic.

“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped immediately. You didn’t expect him to reject your suggestion so quickly. Usually, he would give your ideas more consideration – or at least ask a few more questions. “Is it a hard no?”

“Please don’t look so sad.” You were going to break his heart. “I just don’t want you to get hurt – rather, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why would you hurt me?”

“With all the adrenaline, I don’t know if I could hold myself back. What if I push you too far and you get hurt?”

“Satan, when’s the last time you seriously hurt me?”

“I don’t know.” He paused to think. “Did I hurt you when we first met?”

“My sweet boy,” you smiled and caressed his cheek, “you have never inflicted any serious harm to me – especially on purpose. And you rarely hurt me at all on accident. You’re so gentle with me. I just want to see a different side of you.”

“That side is a monster. I’m a demon of wrath. Why would you want that?”

“Because it’s still you.” You held his face in both of your hands. “I trust you.”

“Why? That’s such a risk.” The confusion on his face was heartbreaking. No one had ever trusted him to control himself so much. Your faith in him was almost a burden, but he wanted to carry it. He wanted it so badly; he was just terrified.

“Because I love you.” It was the perfect justification, and he responded by kissing you roughly.

“Why do you always know what to say?”

“Coping mechanism,” you joked.

“If we do this,” Satan spoke sternly, “you promise you’ll tell me the moment you’re uncomfortable? Stoplight system? If anything goes wrong, you’ll use your pact to stop me, right?”

“Yes, but I won’t need to.” Satan bit his lip. You were so trusting – too trusting. He didn’t want you showing such a vulnerable side to anyone else. He nipped your ear gently. A soft purr vibrated against you.

“Should we try it now?” Satan checked the nearby clock. “It’s late. I don’t think anyone else is up. I could take you out back and release you into the garden. The moonlight is beautiful tonight, and it’s not too cold, either.”

“Yes, yes, it’s a romantic night,” you rubbed your thumbs over his cheeks, “but that’s not the mood I’m going for.”

“I know. Just give me a few seconds to be romantic before we start.” Satan stared at you affectionately. If you trusted him, he trusted you. Peace and resolve came over him just by looking at you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Satan snuck you down to the garden, hand in his. You felt like young lovers running away into the night. Once outside, Satan shifted into his demon form, growling into your ear and blowing extra-hot breath onto your neck. His heat contrasted with the cool Devildom air – so drastic that it made you shudder. His tail gently wrapped around your ankle, touching you so slightly that he couldn’t hurt you – so long as you stayed perfectly still, at least.

“Be careful not to trip, love. You’ve got 5 minutes to run and hide. And then, I will find you.” His hand wrapped around your upper arm, each finger slowly curling over your skin, one at a time. You could feel the fear rising in your chest – your breath catching in your throat. Satan ran his long, sharp tongue up your neck slowly. His voice dropped and he whispered, “run.”

You were freed from his touch immediately. The fear almost stalled your feet, but you ran off towards the rows of hedges, trying to locate a clear entrance to the forest. Your bare feet hit the hard paved paths. Maybe you should have put shoes on before you left, but it was too late now. You spotted a row of floral arches and ducked into it. The moonlight shined on the flowers in the garden, especially the roses, almost making them appear to glow. Maybe you should try outdoor sex another time – a much sweeter version of it. Right now, however, you could see a path into the forest.

You had barely reached the tree lines when a loud rush of air sounded with a flash of light. Satan had blown a puff of fire towards the sky to signal that your time was up. You could see it dissipate over the hedges. He was coming.

Finally, you understood those nightmarish scenes in which the branches of trees appeared as angry, violent limbs. You found your previous speed impossible as you tried to navigate the woods silently. If you broke any branches or rustled too many leaves, he’d hear you. Satan, on the other hand, was able to make as much noise as he wanted. You heard him move through the brush. What you assumed was the sound of him jumping down from the fallen tree signaled that he was gaining on you. If you kept running, he’d catch up to you soon. You’d have to do the near-impossible and outsmart him.

You hid behind one of the large trees just off a vaguely formed path. Less than a minute passed before you heard Satan stalking through, mere feet away from you. His breath was shallow – only slightly exhausted from the chase. He let out a low chuckle. “I can hear you panting, dear.”

He knew you were nearby. You covered your mouth to stifle the noise. Both hands were clasped over your lips, trembling. Your eyes turned to the sky; it was all you could do to calm yourself and steady your breath as your lungs seemed to burn. Satan growled and his steps began to fade. Unable to risk him doubling back, you immediately rushed into the opposite direction.

If you had just waited another minute or two, you might have prolonged the chase, but your impatience would be punished. You were too early, and Satan heard your movement, giving prompt chase. He closed in on you. Your time had run up.

“Found you,” Satan mused, pushing you roughly against a nearby tree the second you fell into his grasp. He forced your face against the bark, pressing shallow indents into your skin. A breathy chuckle crawled down your neck, where Satan sank his teeth. One hand was locked over your shoulder, pulling you close, while his other hand was groping your ass. From behind, he forced his hand between your thighs and rubbed over your clothes. He chuckled again. “You must really want this. I can smell your arousal already.”

“N-no,” you denied it. He could have been lying about smelling you – you weren’t sure how much better his senses were, but you hoped it wasn’t true. Hearing him say it aloud was embarrassing.

The tip of Satan’s tail snaked just under your pant leg. The sharp edges of each small segment on the tip threatened to slice your skin. Satan shushed you and warned, “stay still. I don’t want to hurt that precious skin of yours.”

Using his tail like a serrated blade, Satan cut your clothes off. The sound of fabric tearing filled your head. You had to brace yourself as he tugged at your clothes. Satan didn’t even leave your underwear intact.

A cool breeze sent a chill up your spine just as Satan rubbed himself against your bare ass. He was still fully clothed. Typically, you might tell him that he was being unfair, but the friction left you wanting, and all you could do was mindlessly stick your ass out a bit more for him. He laughed and clicked his tongue. “Is prey supposed to be this needy?”

Satan bit your ear lobe with a low growl before he dropped to his knees. You may be needy, but he wanted to prepare you first – especially with the absence of lube. His hands grabbed your thighs and brought you to his lips. That tongue of his was longer, wetter, and warmer in his demon form. His claws dug into your skin, but it didn’t hurt. Even when he scratched down one of your legs, the burn was a pleasant tingle that only momentarily distracted you from the pleasure of his tongue working on you. Every slow, calculated lap at your entrance, every ravenous plunge into you, squirming up into you, every teasing flick – he was savoring you and your reactions. Only when he had made a sufficient mess of you did Satan pull away, admiring the sight of you sticking your ass out, legs spread, with your upper body braced against the tree.

“I think you’re ready for more,” Satan smirked up at you.

Satan turned your body and forced you to the ground on your hands and knees. You glanced back just in time for him to drag his claws down your spine. He had undressed while he was tonguing you – which only proved what a good job he had been doing for you to have not noticed.

There was lust in your eyes, but also a tinge of fear that Satan wanted to extinguish from you. He rubbed up against your ass slowly. Suddenly, you realized how eerily quiet the surrounding forest was. Satan had managed to scare everything off with his deep growls and snarls – both during the chase and as he licked you. Normally, the quiet would be terrifying, but not with Satan. He bent over and growled into your ear before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The pain was compounded when you felt him force the tip of his cock into you. You wanted to cover your mouth with your hand, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to hold yourself up; you had no choice but to let that sweet groan spill into the night.

Slowly, Satan pushed his full length into you – inch by inch. You hadn’t wanted him to be gentle with you, but this was Satan, and you knew he was trying to be rough and primal. Parts of him just slipped through, though. He waited until you had taken all of him to dip down next to your ear again and growl, “you’re all mine. Don’t you dare fucking forget it.”

You were left trembling. He had never been so rough, and you just wanted him to destroy you. Still, this was Satan. His chest pressed against your back as he reached one hand down to rub the front of your body, desperate to make you feel even better. Satan slammed his other hand onto the ground right next to yours, inching closer until he could grab hold of your wrist. His grip was strong, and he dug his claws into you. Even still, he couldn’t completely disguise that occasional need of his to hold your hand during sex.

His hands and deep thrusts were so attentive that you came while he continued to have his way with you. The pleasure – and the preceding chase – took its toll on your body. Your arms shook. Unable to hold yourself up on all fours, you leaned forward, pressing your cheek to the moss-covered ground.

Satan laughed and pulled back enough to admire the sight. “Fuck, you’re such weak prey. Fine.”

Fine? You were confused. He pulled out of you, leaving you empty and disappointed, but that need was soothed when Satan forced you onto your back effortlessly and pushed back into you with urgency.

The demon above you looked wild and ravenous. And yet, the moonlight shined off his horns and made his golden hair almost appear silver. Those wolfish eyes, however, were darker than the forest around you, devoid of light. He was beautiful and terrifying – a true horror, but all that did was deepen your desire. Satan gave you but a brief moment to admire him before he buried his face in your neck.

A whimper escaped your mouth. He was so close to your throat, and the world fell silent around you. Every sound you made graced his ears with perfect clarity, but the embarrassment of being heard couldn’t stop you. Even as your face burned, you let yourself react, uninhibited – letting him hear every dirty sound and feel every ache and throb of your body.

“I can’t get enough of this tight little hole,” Satan purred. “I lucked out, finding the sluttiest little lamb to use. You already came, but you still have the lust to moan like a desperate whore? Looks like you aren’t so scared anymore.”

“Neither are you,” you smiled and caressed his cheek. He bit your hand – just past the point of subtle pain – and was slow to release you.

Satan pushed one of your legs further up in an attempt to thrust right into that spot he knew you adored. He hit it. Repeatedly.

“Keep moaning like a slut for me. I’m going to mark your insides and breed you, got it?”

Your only response was pitiful whining and scratching down his back.

“That’s it. Take it all for me, okay?” He released into you, fucking his cum deeper for a few strokes before he pulled out with a chuckle. “Fuck, that was hotter than I expected it to be.”

He rolled over to stare up at the tree canopy with you, held your hand, and asked, “Did I do okay? You’re not in pain or anything, are you?”

You mustered all of your remaining energy to sit up and crawl over him, straddling his chest. He was slightly aroused again to have you so close to his face. When you stared down at him, your shadow obscured him from the light, but you could still see every feature of his beautiful face, flushed and content. As beautiful as he appeared, the image of you against the stars, moonlight hitting your back and creating a halo, was breathtaking. You both soaked in it until your breath calmed.

Unfortunately, the realization that Satan had ruined your clothes found you soon after. He couldn’t sneak you back into the house looking like that. If anyone happened to be up and he got caught, his brothers would try to keep him away from you entirely – especially with how much he had scratched up your thighs and marked your neck. Even your knees were dark and dirty.

Luckily, his sense came back to him. You could just teleport. He put his clothes back on and grabbed your shredded clothes (which he would properly dispose of and replace at a later date) before he teleported you both to the bathroom, shielding you against the wall with his body in case anyone happened to be in there. With the bathroom clear, Satan guided you to one of the chairs and encouraged you to sit. He promised to return with clothes and take care of everything. “Just stay put.”

When he returned, he kneeled next to you with a first aid kit and checked your body for scrapes and bruises.

He was quite pleased with himself when he found very few injuries – and certainly nothing of note. Soap and water would clean you up just fine. Satan ran the shower and stripped down while he waited for the water to heat up. When it was ready, he led you into the shower.

Satan gently scrubbed your skin. You didn’t object to him washing you, and even if you had, Satan would have insisted. As he washed, you noticed he would excessively graze sensitive areas on your body just to watch your reaction. His eyes were fixed on your body like he was reading a captivating book. Somehow, you felt more exposed than you were outside.

Once you were clean, Satan helped you rinse off before he started scrubbing himself. Without his wandering hands and lingering touch to cloud your mind, you noticed that he was hard again. The embarrassment – along with the comforting warmth of the shower – left you paralyzed in place. Were you supposed to stay in there while he finished? Should you help him? Should you get dried off? Well, maybe you could at least give him some privacy.

You turned your back to him. Ignoring his erection became impossible when Satan shyly encircled his arms around you and pulled you against him, creating the sound of a brief wet slap between skin. He hummed as the water ran down both of your bodies. “You’re not trying to escape me, are you?”

“No,” you reassured him.

“Good.” He smiled and placed a chaste kiss on your neck – a confusing reaction considering it was juxtaposed with him twitching against you. In a honey-seeped tone, he called your name like a question, “MC?”

“Yes?”

“Could we try that again sometime? Maybe we could even switch if you want.” He was blushing – his cheeks red, and not from the hot water, either. He had melted back into his sweet, soft Satan side. The problem was that this side hadn’t quite had its fill of you yet. Satan wondered if he could squeeze one more round out of you in that bathroom, fucking you slow and lovingly, until your voice was reverberating off the walls.

#ask #anon #requests #satan #gn!mc #spice tier #obey me #obey me satan #satan x mc #satan smut #obey me smut #satan x reader #Dom Satan did something unspeakable to me which I did not expect.#I just hoped I lucked out and this anon has a bit of a degradation kink...

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foranpo · 11 months

Text

ੈ˚☆ how they look at you. #2

anon asked: May i request p2 of how they look at you, with hunting dogs

fandom: bungou stray dogs.

characters: jouno, tetcho, tachihara.

reader: gn!

genre: headcanons.

content: fluff.

word count: ~200 each // ~600 total

cole's note: i am sorry for the long wait but i do hope you enjoy this second part and tysm for the request <3

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading <3 ──────

˚ʚ jouno.

as if the entire universe was silent.

silence. rest. peace. finally, in your presence, the entire universe was submerged in a vast sea of tranquility that guided Jouno to the detailed pleasures of life. finally, nothing. after years of being violently assaulted by the most macabre noises of humans and the most cruel sounds in the world, there was, at last, a calm, an emptiness, a vast and pleasurable paradise of pure silence.

in your presence, nothing else existed for Jouno. the entire universe ceased to exist. there was no sound or smell to draw Jouno's attention away from you; any perverse attempt by the cosmos to expel you from Jouno's life was only futile, vain, useless when fate itself had the both of you intertwined in a timeless thread that transcended any reality.

Jouno looked at you with encyclopedias at his fingertips, love songs and poems to be recited in every touch Jouno gave you, in every smile he threw at you; Jouno looked at you, as the moon looks at the vast universe: silent and hopeful; a dreamer of what could exist beyond, a believer of what was experiencing and in love, so in love, with whom it admires, with whom it decided to devote itself.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ tetcho.

as if he was a student of the renaissance.

as it is certain that the sun rises every day, it was also certain to find a little bit of you in Tetchou; a new mannerism, a stray word, an infectious smile or a shared nightmare; nothing that was yours was alone when Tetchou was with you; nothing that was yours was neglected, not when Tetchou promised you, swore to you, whispered to you that everything in you would be part of him. today. tomorrow. in the future that was uncertain. • dedication. nothing but pure dedication was seen in Tetchou's fiery eyes. perhaps because of the novelty of the feeling, perhaps because of the intensity of the emotion, or simply because you were the object of his affection; but the truth is that no one could deny the truth of his feelings when all other lovers looked silly compared to the looks and smiles that Tetchou reserved only for you.

Tetchou looked at you like a student looks at the most complex books: curiosity aroused in Tetchou every time you entered the room, all his attention was voluntarily given to you and you alone; and his devotion, oh!, his devotion was something so common, so natural, as if he were created only to love you.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ tachihara.

as if a new fairy tale was being created.

the stars told your love to the various planets who yearned to hear your story; the moon confided the promises you had exchanged with Tachihara to the calmest lakes and gentlest rivers; the birds repeated your laughter in the hope of finding a love as beautiful as yours; and the world succumbed to Tachihara's love for you, eager to find something as true, as meaningful, as your love.

Tachihara's eyes couldn't escape the grace of your soul; it was a passion far beyond carnal desire, a feeling that corrupted the soul and bound it with a glue of passion and admiration that would last for centuries on end.

Tachihara looked at you as if a new story was being written: without fear of making mistakes, with nothing to hide; a pure innocence that overflowed from the smiles cast and the promises uttered; it was an emotion that contoured your soul, sculpted your essence and embraced your conscience, calming your person, comforting your identity, cradling your spirit.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated <3 ─────

#;bungou stray dogs constellation;#jouno x reader #jouno headcanons #tetchou x reader #tetchou headcanons #tecchou x reader #tecchou headcanons #tachihara x reader #tachihara headcanons #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

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prompt idea! :D

steve being a poet and eddie being a songwriter. they both reference each other in their works and no one has put it together yet.

( also hi you're awesome )

Oooh anon I love this, this is such an intriguing concept bc the possibilities are ENDLESS with this one! I hope you like the direction I ended up taking it in :) (and thank you so much for dropping this in my ask box! <3 )

EDIT: I wrote an expanded version for this one and it's also on ao3 :D

---

Jeff was the one who introduced Eddie to Ronan Right. His mom was moving and when Eddie visited to help, he found his friend with his nose buried in a small book that was nearly falling apart in his hands.

“What's that?” Eddie asked, flopping down next to Jeff among the boxes.

“My mom's favorite poet,” Jeff mumbled, barely glancing up from the page.

And as soon as Eddie got a chance to pick up the book from where Jeff had left it, he was hooked. He was no help at all for Jeff's poor mom, completely engrossed in poem after poem, reading them again and again and again.

Eddie liked reading poetry to get some inspiration for his songwriting, but a lot of poetry had this atmosphere of pretentiousness around it. This didn't. It was surprisingly simple. To the point, with a rawness to it, mostly short poems that had a simplicity with which they managed to cut right to the heart of things.

Ever since that day, Ronan Right became Eddie's biggest source of inspiration. He'd never start working on new songs before reading one of Right's poems first. And whenever he got stuck on his lyrics, he'd pick up one of Right's books – and every time, without fail, he'd find something in there to help him find the right words.

---

When people would ask Steve what inspired him, his answer was always the same, always simple: music. Most people probably assumed that by that, a poet would mean classical music or maybe jazz of some kind. They were wrong: Steve Harrington, professionally known as Ronan Right, liked to blast the most screamy metal imaginable whenever he was writing – much to the discontent of his poor neighbors. He didn't care much for lyrics, it was all about the sound for him: about volume, about harmonies, about a combination of ingredients that somehow managed to flip a switch inside of his brain that unlocked the more creative ways to look at words.

His favorite band was called Corroded Coffin. Something about them stood out in the long list of metal bands he loved to listen to. It was something about the sound of the singer's voice, about the guitar riffs, that simply made sense to him, made the words that he was looking for bubble up to the surface naturally.

He got halfway through the first song on Corroded Coffin's newly released album, when he froze at his desk. He didn't care much for lyrics, but those words... There was something familiar about them.

He replayed the song from the beginning and started frantically flipping through the pages of one of his earliest poetry bundles... Yeah, there definitely was something familiar about those lyrics.

They weren't copied, exactly. It could just be a coincidence.

But the album kept playing on and Steve kept getting distracted by the lyrics because there was so much familiarity in them. It wasn't like the singer was stealing from him, it wasn't even like he was taunting his copyright or anything like that... It was like he was building on Steve's words. Like Steve had laid a foundation that had sparked Corroded Coffin to make something beautiful. Like the two of them shared a mind, a soul, an inspiration.

And Steve wrote the best poem he had ever written, in one go, that day.

---

More bundles followed. More albums were released. And they kept interlocking with each other, one causing the other to do something new, try something different, figure something out.

Ronan Right was still an obscure poet, well-respected but not mainstream enough for bigger successes. Corroded Coffin was still an obscure metal band, praised by the connoisseur but too experimental to ever get anywhere bigger than the verge of the metal scene. The only one who noticed the textual similarities between the two, was Jeff's mother. She'd smile her knowing smile and chuckle quietly, delighting in her own private understanding.

---

A new book was about to get published. Steve had to drive down to Chicago to meet with his publicist and talk some things through, but his car was in the shop so he got on a train instead. The meeting went well, Don't try to be a hero officially got the green light, and feeling content, Steve pulled out the latest Corroded Coffin cd to put in his walkman as soon as he got on the train back home.

“Hey,” the guy opposite him said with a smile and a nod towards Steve's walkman, just before Steve could put on his headphones. “Corroded Coffin, nice.”

“You know them?” Steve asked, taken by surprise, a matching smile creeping onto his own face.

“Yeah.” The guy chuckled. “Yeah, I know them.”

Sunlight fell through the window and shone on the big rings around the guy's fingers, catching Steve's eye – and pulling his gaze towards the tiny book he was holding in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “Ronan Right, nice.”

The guy stared at him for a few seconds, something like disbelief in his big brown eyes. “You know him?!”

Steve felt laughter bubble up in his chest. “Yeah, I know him.”

#anon ily i hope you liked this!!#i didn't spend that much time on it so i hope it turned out okay #i wanted to include jeff bc too many people always talk about gareth and jeff gets totally sidelined and i don't like that #and then suddenly jeff's mom was there too lol #also i couldn't naturally include this in the text but eddie is on that train to visit uncle wayne #feels like important information #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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rwrbficrecs · 8 months

Text

Readers' Choice Rec List Part 1 of 7

To celebrate 500 followers we thought we'd do a special rec list featuring recs submitted by all of you, the readers ❤️ Though at the time of posting this, we're at 800+ followers 🥺 From the volunteers and I, thank you for supporting this blog. We hope it's been a helpful resource! Hope you enjoy these recs, with a little comment from the reader. Thank you to everyone who submitted a fic rec 🥰 I'll be posting a list everyday till all 7 parts are posted Go and leave these authors some love ❤️ Happy Reading! Theme: A fic that you’d like to celebrate and give some love to ❤️ the poem you make of me by @omgcmere

@celaestis1: Just as they speculate under the linden tree, Henry is a writer; Alex a model. The story is just so beautiful, sweet and smutty and funny.

Omakase by @orchidscript

@historicallysam: Orchid made me fall in love with a brash American who wants respect and a stoic Brit who wants to be himself. I could read this story every single day.

We'll Invite Something In by @smc-27

@historicallysam: President ACD & HRH Prince Henry, grown up and willing to work for what they want. It's one of my top two favorite stories in this fandom.

Spoke Love to Soul by @celaestis1

@emmalostinwonderland: The story is gripping, the characters are compelling, and the myth they chose is really under-appreciated. I rode the entire rollercoaster of emotions with this one, and I would gladly do it again.

cover to cover by Anonymous

anon: The characters' voices are amazing and the narration is just super sweet! A feel-good fic for anyone craving a good intimate time.

On Thin Ice by @pirates-against-heterosexuality (WIP)

anon: A really sweet, in progress, NHL AU. It's in progress but It's really enjoyable so far, especially as it draws a lot of similarities to book moments, without being a copy.

Heartaches and Cupcakes and Sunshine Boys by @everwitch-magiks

anon: This was the first RWRB fic I read, and it's still my favorite! Henry as a writer (and her skill writing as Henry) and the emotional depth of this fic are things I need in every fic!

love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves by @kapplebougher

anon: I am simply OBSESSED with this oneshot, I scream about it to anybody that will listen. I come back and read it every time I read the climax of Alex and Henry's argument in London. It is Henry POV and the first time I read it I truly wondered if it was CMQ writing Henry fic on AO3. Not only does it build on the signet ring and give background on what it means to Henry and parallels it with his parents, but it also weaves fire/water symbolism for Alex/Henry. The thing that gets me is the quote at the end though. It's just like the queer historical quotes from the emails in the books and it makes the ending SO PERFECT it just makes me go feral. I wish I could give it all the kudos!

Picture On Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor

anon: absolutely beautiful and a roller coaster of emotions. 100% recommended.

religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god) by @coffeecatsme

anon: NSFW but also incredibly good and i need everyone to appreciate billie's writing!!!

Someday We Will Be Home by witchseeker1133

anon: this fic is incredibly special to me bc it was one of the first ones i read. it is very angsty but i think its worth a read.

#readers choice #rwrb fic recs #red white and royal blue #firstprince

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swtnrcmnt · 1 year

Note

need more singer!reader hcs

୨୧ — s.r x singer!r; headcanons (3)

hi hi ! ik i said i was gonna go on hiatus (and i still will lol) but i think writing something will help keep my mind off things :) enjoy ! also i’m so sry anon this took so long.

- stays up until midnight for every album, song, or music video release even if he’s on a case because he’s the most supportive boyfriend

- anytime you win an award he goes to work the next day bragging to every team member talking their ear off about which award you won this time

- he gives everyone in the bau some of your merchandise because he loves it and he wants to show you off

- morgan teases the fuck out of him any chance he gets about his “popstar princess” girlfriend

- example: the music video is a bit more on the sexual side, and the next time he sees spencer he’s all “did you see what your popstar princess did 🤭”

- using poems from his favorite books as lyrics in your songs omg !!

- when he invites you to karaoke night with the team so they can meet you but he also wants everyone to see just how good you are

- convincing him to sing with u ! and everyone else is hyping him up like yes do it and he’s begging you not to lol

- sends you every tweet he sees complimenting you like “look, they love the new song :)!” HE’S JUST SO CUTE LIKE THAT

- again fans thirsting over him because how can you not??

- is at every photoshoot asking “do you need water? food? a sweater? are you cold? your outfit’s very small. are you sure you’re fine??”

- the biggest worrier when it comes to song lyrics and if you guys are fighting he overanalyzes every sad lyric you have as if it’s about him

- the first time you post him and the photo goes viral he’s like ???? why am i trending on twitter ?? what’s going on ???

- he’d probably never ever get used to paparazzi but surely you have your tricks to avoid them bc ik they would get so damn annoying omg

sorry this is so short, i’m braindead and burnt out rn lol

i hope u enjoyed !

part 1 | part 2

#swtnrcmnt ۵ #spencer reid #spencer reid x famous!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid headcanon

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verysium · 2 months

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blue lock boys as assassins (au i guess?), i hope you could include Oli, Yuki and Barou!

anon you have me at crossroads because the very idea of an assassin AU spawns an infinite glitch of possibilities....🤔 like mafia underground syndicate assassin? or like solitary mysterious hitman type of assassin? or even better could this be ninja/shinobi stealth warrior assassin? i'm going give a general description though:

oliver is the laid-back good guy. escorts you to the bar, drinks on him. claps every passerby on the back as if he personally knows them. you think he's alright. not too handsome and just the right amount of ruggedness. he offers you a good time, so you two hit off for the night. and that's where everything starts to go downhill. one shoot-out, intense knife fight, and grueling police chase later, you pant for dear life against the side of a brick wall in some torn up alley because it turns out your one-night stand was actually an assassin for japan's largest underground syndicate.

you grip your broken heel tightly in one hand, body collapsed against the brick cornerstone as you seethe, the condensation of your gasping breath forming tendrils in the cold night. you reach up a hand to wipe the sweat off your face. it comes back red, the meticulous hours of applying your makeup wasted when you see the damning smears of lipstick. this was not the type of fun you signed up for on a friday night.

"oliver, what the fuck was that?"

he laughs sheepishly, cocking his gun back with ease before he lights up a cigarette, palm cupping the flame. he turns, then walks over two bodies without blinking, suede shoes clicking against the cobblestone. you're angry at him, but he doesn't care, wrapping an arm around your waist, nose buried in your hair.

"just a side hustle, sweetheart. come on, let's get you home."

yukimiya is the sweet, unassuming literature student. he came home from university to help his grandmother out over the summer, manning the front counter of her antique oddities shop. you like him. he's awkwardly charming, a little too zealous for the job, but still endearingly kooky. you have him pinned down as the sad poet type. the kind of person who wears the same knitted cardigan every day, complete with horn-rimmed glasses and 1940's gingham elbow patches. he can handwrite a sonnet in less than a minute, gift-wrap your purchases in record time. you let him buzz around you while you make your daily visit to his shop, listening to him talk about the collections of radioactive glassware, the vintage phonograph in the corner, and the rare edition of Gutenberg bibles sitting silently in the old book section.

"you know, you really don't have to do that."

he peers up at you owlishly, dark brow furrowed before you point out the spool of twine in his hand, the way he's carefully folding the newspaper around the edges of the new vase you purchased. he laughs, shrugging off your concerns with a wave. you catch a brief whiff of his cologne, the subtle scent of mint and toluene. maybe a hint of vanillin too.

"don't worry about it miss! gift-wrapping is a free service. i'll even add two complimentary trinkets if you'd like. we have a clearance section that's been slow to sell. you could even take a few for free."

"i'm alright. thanks for the offer though." he nods, fingers delicately tying a bow before he places your vase in a bag, fluffing up the tissue paper on top. you smile to yourself when you see the intricate lettering of the card he snuck in. must've been another one of the love poems he wrote. you know how the saying goes.

roses are red. violets are blue.

by the time you step out the shop, the door chime twinkles in the distance, a peal of bells to signal your departure. from behind the windows and glass paneling, he watches your figure trail down the sidewalk, winter coat fluttering in the wind. his eyes darken beneath the tortoiseshell frame, finger moving down the yellowed pages of his accounting book before crossing off another name. he doesn't even look up when he hears the loud honking and screams, the sound of a body hitting the pavement.

one is dead, and so are you.

barou is probably the most obvious one. very upfront about the work he does. the only caveat is that you can never trace his work back to him. he cleans up way too well. always shoots his targets through the eye because it's less of a mess that way. leaves absolutely no evidence at the murder scene. i picture you as one of the unfortunate victims caught up in the fray. collateral damage, as he likes to call it.

"you know, i've never met someone so equally stubborn and stupid."

you glare at him, throat sore and aching as you scream through your gag, cursing him out in every language in existence. he merely stares down at you, arms crossed and eyebrow arched in amusement. you struggle for a good minute, flopping around like a fish as you try to free yourself from your bonds. how the hell do you go from taking an errand trip to the grocery store to getting kidnapped and tied up in a man's trunk?

"what's that? couldn't hear you from all the noise."

god, you want to strangle him. you heave a breath, swallowing the bitter taste of your own spit when he finally unties the gag, your lungs gasping for air.

"i said...you think i'm the stupid one? you're the one who tied me up!"

"because you wouldn't stop squealing like a pig."

"you were trying to kill me!" he snorts derisively at your comment, his red eyes piercing and haughty. the loud thump of the trunk door closing reverberates throughout the parking garage before you find yourself face first on the pavement, body dumped unceremoniously on the ground. he looks down at you dismissively, wiping the dust off his hands.

"nah, i'd save myself the hassle."

your eyebrow twitches in irritation, jaw dropping at that violation. oh, it was personal now. he deserved capital punishment. strangling would be too merciful. you try to get back on your feet, a task that proves all the more difficult with your legs bound and arms twisted behind your back. he merely waits, as if knowing when you'd finally give up, sinking at his feet in defeat.

"you done?" you nod your head, slumping down into the concrete. your voice becomes small and sheepish by the time you raise your face to look at him.

"can't you just...let me go? i promise i won't say anything." he rolls his eyes, swinging you over his shoulder in one fell swoop, locking the car with a resounding beep. you start to panic when you feel him carrying you to the garage exit, vision swirling with nothing but concrete and the solid sound of his combat boots.

"wait....wait! i swear to god! please just let me go. i won't tell a soul."

"nope. can't have any witnesses." you feel a handkerchief come up at engulf your nose and mouth, the sweet smell cloying and sharp. you start to squirm in his arms.

"wait! no...please! if you touch me again, i'll scream." his grin is the last thing you see in the darkness, sharp canines brushing against the shell of your ear.

"oh, you'll do so much more than scream, darling."

#asks #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #yukimiya kenyu #yukimiya x reader #bllk yukimiya #barou shouei #barou x reader #bllk barou #barou shoei x reader

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

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EEEE BACK AGAIN CUZ YOUR WRITING IS YUMMYYY

Valeria, Graves, König, and Soap (separately) who has a s/o who's into poetry?

like maybe they're a poet or a librarian or something.

bonus points for a silly little cozy aesthetic dressed s/o :33

MANY HUGSSSS

-☁️

(CLOUD ANON)

Hello again! Welcome back! I'm glad my silly writings are enjoyable to people! I wrote it so Reader is a librarian and writes poetry both, in most of these! I think I forgot for Soap! I hope these are good enough! Thank you very much for the request! ^^

Soap, Valeria, Graves, König with an S/O who likes Poetry

Soap: While he may have read some poetry throughout his life, but only because he was forced to at school, he doesn’t care for literature like that in the slightest. Sure, he can understand some metaphors and some messages a piece of writing might try to convey, but he won’t go out of his way to buy himself an anthology of William Blake. He doesn’t have the time to read, and he doesn’t really want to either, he’d much rather go outside and take a hike. However, once you come up to him with one of your poems in hand, he’s more than happy to sit down and read through it. The way the language flows, the way the words intertwine with each other and form something unmistakably beautiful, it has him in a chokehold after a while. He’ll always cheer you on, quietly, while writing and read everything that you put on paper. While he might not be the best at giving criticism, he can use his words to reassure you that your writing is, indeed, the bomb. If you ever release your works then you can be certain he’ll be the first to buy a copy of the book, maybe even several because he loves and supports you that much. He loves the cozy aesthetic you have. Beige cardigans with either matching trousers or skirts. If you’re roughly the same size then let him borrow one of your cardigans, he wants to feel for himself how warm and cozy they are. It’s not usually his style, but trying them on won’t kill him. He actually also kind of likes it when you send him pictures of you drinking tea or coffee with a book on the table. It’s, as mentioned, very cozy, very comforting. You’re living your best life, you’re happy and thriving, and that’s all that matters to him.

Valeria: Unlike Soap, she has picked up books after school. The only poem she has read after school was the Divine Comedy by Alighieri since it sounded interesting to her at the time. She never finished it, though, having become far too busy with the military and, afterwards, the cartel. She doesn’t particularly miss reading either, though. Maybe sometimes, when she just wants to have a nice and quiet day, she might pick up a book she found just lying around, but that book could contain just about anything. While she might not always have the time to read your poetry, it will likely be sitting on her desk for a few days before she can read it, she will visit you at your library. It’s calm there, it’s quiet, and likely not a place anyone would suspect someone of her caliber to be. While she might not particularly be there for the books, you could read her some poetry every once in a while. Doesn’t have to be at the library either, you could just check out a book and read to her at home. She can appreciate something like that, you spending time with her, reading your favorite poem in a soft, almost mellow, voice. She gets to see you happy, after all, and that’s what she’s usually striving for. Even if that library isn’t doing too well, she’ll always make sure that it’s up and running because you love your job as much as you do. She, too, likes your aesthetic. It’s fairly neutral, it doesn’t stand out too much. While it might be a bit boring to her occasionally, since you likely would look just as lovely in something a bit more flashy, she won’t tell you to dress you any differently. In fact, she might instigate you a bit and egg you on by buying you expensive coffee beans or expensive hand made tea. The most aesthetically pleasing tea pots and cups will be yours, in this case you won’t even need to ask her.

Graves: Graves has not picked up many books after school either. The occasional book on business and history, yes, but nothing that was written lyrically. It never interested him, he had to analyze poems at school and that was the start of his disdain for poetry. He never did well with writing down what a specific metaphor might mean, so he never got any good grades on that. At first, he won’t be very happy to see you’ve brought him a poem, even if it was written by you, but he won’t complain, he’ll read it and give you honest criticism. He’s better with constructive criticism than Soap because he can still see the poem’s flaws while being nice and uplifting about it so you can do better next time. It likely won’t ignite a spark for poetry in him, but he has a soft spot for you, so he’ll read anything you want him to see. On the off-chance he has time to visit you, he will. While he might not be as quiet as Valeria, he tries, but he just really wants to converse with you. He doesn’t get to see you often, so it wouldn’t be too unlikely for him to waltz up to your library in his gear either. He tries not to scare the people, but it doesn’t always work. Tries to convince you to go home early with him so you can pay attention to him instead of burying your nose in some books. It doesn’t work, but hey, an attempt has been made. He really digs that entire cozy aesthetic. You look warm, you look soft, you look like you want and need a good hug from him. He’s a very touchy person in general, but that goes up by 100% since he likes the feeling of your cardigan, it’s made of wonderful fabric. If you’re more of a coffee drinker, like he is, then you can drink some coffee at a lovely cafe together, he knows plenty of nice and calm places. Tea, too, but you’ll be alone in that endeavor since he’s a coffee drinker first and a human second. Send him some cute pics of you, though, he’ll appreciate them after a mission and tell you how good you look.

König: He sort of likes poetry, actually. While he hasn’t read enough to actually have a favorite, he likes the way it sounds when read, either out loud or in your head. While he, by no means, could ever write a poem himself, English or German, he does like to read some every once in a while. He has an anthology at home he never got around to finishing. It’s a calming hobby. However, he finds himself with a favorite poet once you show him your writing. He’s very supportive of you, asking you fairly often about your progress and how you’re doing, answering any and all questions you might have that might bring you some inspiration. Whenever he writes it’s somewhat dry, mostly because he’s used to writing reports these days and nothing else, so seeing your flowery, beautiful language makes him smile a bit. It makes him imagine the scenery very vividly, even if you don’t specify too much of your setting. He, too, will come visit you at work when he can, but he won’t make a ruckus. If he can talk to you, that’s fine, if he can help you sort some books, he’d love to, but if you just want to do your work in quiet, then he’ll grab himself a nice book and sit down quietly until you have time for him again. Might ask you some questions regarding some books, might ask you for some recommendations as well, but he respects your want for quiet. He also really likes your aesthetic, it’s such a contrast to what he’s used to. You don’t look like you’re fighting wars, you look as though you sit down at a park bench during late spring or early autumn to read some books, and he thinks that’s very nice. If you want to, then the two of you can sit together in silence while you’re reading some poetry and he’s reading the Schachnovelle. He’s more than happy to tell you about what he read or listen to you reading some of the poetry out loud as well. It’s nice, it’s calming. It’s so far away from what he normally does at his job, he could fall asleep to the comfort of it all. If you’re reading at home, he might put his head in your lap and just take a nap.

#cod #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #I used to write poetry back in high school and I always loved reading it #I remember going for a cozy aesthetic like that when I was hospitalized as well haha #drinking some tea while reading one of my Arsene Lupin books was actually just the best thing ever #I should really start reading some of my books again I have so many classics I never really touched which is a bit sad #I remember getting into poetry because of dmcv due to the character v #I never regretted it and I still think about that one poem from time to time #“I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe” “that made my love so high and me so low”#I have read that entire poem but it's been years since then #I was really into DMC V when it came out like four or five years ago or so haha

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spade-riddles · 25 days

Text

Spade… I think something is afoot with this Amazon book, but not in the way everyone else thinks.

When you go to the Amazon page for the “Tortured Poets” - Willow Bowery book (published on Feb 22nd, or the 53rd day of the year — 🎁 anon), there is this description:

The 🎁 anon used the same language of what “this is” and what “this is not” in the clues. So we know what this book is NOT… it’s not the manuscript. It’s not an album or a department. It’s shared musings between an author and their audience. Got it.

Here’s where it gets interesting. While on the page for the “Tortured Poet” book, there was a sponsored ad for another poetry book: “This is a sign.” by Anon. This popped up right below the other book, as an ad, not in the “you might also like” section (so not based on search algorithm, but is a paid ad by the anon author).

Remember on February 20th (2 ✌🏼days before this Willow Bowery book was published to Amazon) when TaylorNation posted the pic of old Taylor from her Funeral in Anti-Hero with the caption “if we won the lotto, we wouldn’t tell anyone. But there would be signs.”

And everyone was all like… wtf? Seemed totally out of the blue.

(🎁 anon mentions PUBLISH and says something about looking above/for the ones the came before it)

Here is the description for This Is a Sign - Anon (published to Amazon on Dec. 20, 2023).

Book overview

“For those of us who are looking for a sign that everything will be okay, this is it.

This is a sign. is a stream of consciousness in the form of poetry and prose collected from journals and phone notes written by anon in “the pond” of her twenties, typed on a 1980s Smith Corona Typewriter, and arranged into this collection. It explores themes of home, heartache, heartbreak, and healing.”

At the Tribeca Film Festival Q&A, Taylor reveals that Typewriter in the All Too Well Short Film was an Easter Egg — it was the instrument by which the protagonist, Her, would go on to write her book.

The specific typewriter in the ATW short film was a Smith-Corona, sold under the Sears Cutlass brand.

In the author description on Amazon, it says:

“seeking to soothe souls through poetry and prose”

and provides a link to this website: anonpoetryandprose.com

So naturally, I followed the link and it takes you to a very basic webpage with a notice of the book launch, a link back to the Amazon page, and a banner that scrolls “This is a sign. -This is a sign” continuously.

The sidebar menu has only 2 options: Contact (“send me a sign”) by email, and “Postcards from Poet” for $20 with the following description: Randomly chosen poems from This is a sign. handwritten by me on a locally-sourced vintage postcard and sent to you from wherever I am ✨

Sounds like this mysterious Anon is quite the jetsetter, traveling around the world and sending postcards.

If the Willow Bowery “Tortured Poet” book is a callback to this community, and specifically to the 🎃 anon riddles, then I surmise that, with the bizzaro TN “there will be signs” ig post and the ATW short film typewriter Easter egg… perhaps our mystery author is TS herself, and this book of poetry (I’m guessing written while she recorded at Long Pond at age 29), Is a message to “us” who need reassurances that everything will be okay.

Anyway, long story short I ordered the book. And I think I might get a postcard when she starts her tour again… and see where it’s sent from.

#submission

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cambion-companion · 1 year

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hi darling, can I request Aemondacting soft around his secret lover?

Of course Anon! Anytime anywhere haha, I love soft Aemond. I also used the poem "she walks in beauty" by Lord Byron.

Aemond x servant!reader | FLUFF

You were a servant girl in the Red Keep, belonging to no noble house, content to see and not be seen by those nobles you served.

None took notice of you, save for Aegon who had a lecherous fondness of serving girls.

One night as you were on the rounds emptying chamber pots, you were cornered by him in his chambers.

You, not being a meek girl, yelled for help before raking your nails across Aegon's face.

He didn't have time to grab you as someone entered the room, grabbed him by the nape of his neck, and pushed him to the ground.

Aemond had heard your cry for help and come rushing through the open door. "Go!" he told you, rounding on his brother.

You heard them shouting as you fled, their voices echoing far down the hallways.

The next day, as you swept the empty throne room, Aemond found you, placing a hand lightly on your shoulder. You still jumped about a foot in the air, wheeling on him with broom raised to land a blow. Aemond backed away from you, hands raised, laughing softly. "At ease, soldier. I simply wanted to check and see if you were alright...after the events of yestereve."

"Yes, thank you my prince." Mortified, you quickly bowed low.

Aemond scuffed his shoe upon the stone floor, his one purple eye flashing in the torchlight. "There's no need for that." He gestured for you to straighten. "And please, 'Aemond' is enough when you address me in privacy."

He held out a large book to you, that you recognized instantly. It was the Tome of Dragonriding, a fascinating read you had acquired in the massive library, a few nights before you had been called from your reading to complete serving dinner and had left it behind, not able to find it upon your return.

You took the book from Aemond hesitantly, barely daring to look him in the eye. "I...lost this, thank you for returning it."

"It is a rare thing for a...woman of your birth to be able to read." You knew he meant no offense, but your skin prickled nonetheless.

"My father taught me, my pri-Aemond." You admitted.

"He sounds like quite the man."

"He was." You glanced up from studying your shoes and saw Aemond's face soften slightly. "Though...I still find comprehending the written word challenging. My vocabular isn't what I'd like it to be."

Aemond looked at you a moment, his mouth curling slightly into a smile. "You will meet me in the library tomorrow eve so we can begin your lessons." He moved to pass you and tapped lightly on the Tome of Dragonriding in your arms, looking down into your face. "Bring this."

You had met with Aemond that evening, finding him already seated at a large oaken table surrounded by scrolls and manuscripts already. He was leaning over a particularly challenging-looking paper, his long hair falling over his shoulders and tickling the paper before him.

"Ah, Y/N. I am grateful for your presence. " He looked up to see you and motioned for you to take a seat next to him. "You offer a pleasing distraction to these awful manifestos."

Not knowing what that last word quite meant you offered the prince a smile and scooted in, placing your book on the table.

Aemond had you read aloud, correcting, and instructing you to write down words that were foreign to your tongue, giving you the definitions to memorize.

He was a pleasant teacher, you quickly found, and you often caught yourself looking more at his angular face and mysterious eyepatch than at the task in front of you. He caught you more than once, violet eye flicking up to meet your own staring back. A knowing smile began spreading across his face and he leaned in fractionally closer to you.

"I expect you to study, we will recommence next week. Same time, here in the library." At the end of an hour, Aemond gathered together his reading materials and stood to leave.

You did indeed meet with Aemond in the same place the following week, and the week after that until several months had passed with the two of you meeting and becoming closer. You enjoyed his company immensely and often found yourself craving to be near him while going about your everyday chores.

He found you one morning, as you swept the ashes from the fireplace of a secluded sitting room. "Y/N." The sudden sound of his voice woke you from deep thought and you raised your head only to knock the back of it against the stone mantle of the hearth.

Aemond was at your side in an instant, as you clutched your throbbing head, and helped guide you to the sofa. "Forgive me, I am so sorry Y/N. Are you quite alright?" You could tell by the strain in his voice, Aemond was making a gallant effort not to laugh.

"You keep doing that, sneaking up behind me and scaring the life out of me!" He did laugh this time, and you couldn't help but join him, though you also groaned in pain, still rubbing the back of your head. Cool fingers pushed yours away as Aemond caressed the sore spot, digging into your hair to feel for the damage. "Does it hurt when I press here?" You winced. "A little." "And here?" "...not as much."

He released your head and sat back. "I think you'll survive." "A miracle to be sure!" Your retort made him smile and he removed a small book from his coat pocket. "I brought something for you, hopefully all you've learned with me hasn't been shaken from your brain just now."

You took the small gift from him, A collection of poems from Old Valyria. "Aemond, I don't speak Valyrian." You opened the book, leafing through the pages. "Oh." It was written in the Common Tongue, though the print was small. You began reading aloud more by instinct than anything.

"She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes."

You looked up from the page, meeting Aemond's intense eye. He had studied you this way before, but you had always been quick to look away. This time, however, you did not break your gaze, not even when he hooked a finger under your chin and pulled you closer.

His breath was hot upon your lips. "May I?" You barely had time to nod before his mouth was upon yours. A soft whimper escaped you, Aemond's other hand moved to your lower back and guided you against him as he leaned into you.

It was a tender moment, one etched into your heart and memory, your fingers running through his silken hair, all pain in your head forgotten. One of many stolen, secret moments to come.

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #prince aemond #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond drabble

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britany1997 · 1 year

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Could I make a request? It's my birthday tomorrow and I'd love to know how the boys (maybe both individually and poly) would treat their S/O on their birthday. Love your fics and HCs, so glad I found your blog!

Absolutely you can! And Happy Birthday! I hope you have a wonderful day!

I’m gonna do headcannons because I think they would work best for this request:)

Celebrating your Birthday with the Lost Boys

David:

•He’s grumpy, but he adores you

•He gives, ‘I hate everyone but you’ energy with his S/O

•He likes to seem indifferent a lot of the time, since he’s got this ‘super cool leader of a biker gang’ reputation he needs to protect

•But he cares for you very deeply

•He listens to everything you say. Everything.

•And he’s incredibly observant and always keeping a close eye on you

•So if there was something you told him you wanted but it was too expensive, or something you liked at a store but talked yourself out of buying

•He got it for you

•The craziest most extravagant things you might never have gotten for yourself

•A Cartier bracelet? It’s yours. A PS5? All wrapped up for you. A signed first edition of your favorite book? Yep. Don’t ask how he got it.

•Seriously. Don’t ask.

•He shows his love by spoiling you and he wants you to feel loved on your special day🥹

Dwayne:

•Dwayne is the romantic of the group

•He writes you the sweetest birthday card you’ve ever gotten

•It’s like a love letter to you and you can feel his adoration coming off the page

•You can see how he started out with normal sized letters, but he had so much to say that they get smaller and smaller towards the end

•He writes over and over again how much he loves you and cares for you

•He writes about how happy he is that you were born and how lucky he is to be with you

•He tells you how you’re incredibly smart, ridiculously attractive, and overwhelmingly kind

•He includes a little poem about you as well, taking the time to detail your features and compare you to an Angel or some other worldly creature

•He writes about how he genuinely can’t believe a treasure like you could love a “literal monster” like him, but he’ll spend the rest of his eternal life trying to return the love he thinks you’re worthy of

•He thinks the world of you and wants you to feel appreciated and loved, not just on your birthday, but everyday

•He signs it ‘xxxxxxx <- my kisses’

•Just to make sure you know

•He asks Laddie to sign the card too and Laddie writes about how special you are and how grateful he is for you too

Paul:

•Listen

•He is his gift to you

•He shows up to your nest with a bow on his chest and winks at you

•I said on anon to another TLB account once that I think Paul’s the type of guy to give you a cast of his dick as a present and I stand by it

•If you’re not into that though he totally respects it and he’ll get you something else

•He’ll give you tons of cuddles and hugs

•He just likes to hold you, and he knows you like to be held🥹

•He tapes a birthday hat he cut out of a magazine on to fishy’s bowl for you too

•He would also want to give you a kiss for every year you’ve been alive

•He’s like, “you want em all at once or throughout the day?”

•Every time he gives you a kiss he’ll tell you something he loves about you

•Man has no filter and is always ready to tell you all the reasons you’re special to him

•He also makes you a little coupon book with sweet little things like “good for one bear hug,” “redeem for one boardwalk adventure,” and “turn into Paul for one quiet night together at the beach.”

•There are also some..um….spicy coupons in there too (if you want them of course)

•He says those you can reuse;)

Marko:

•Marko bakes you a cake:)

•Now this can go one of two ways

•Marko makes Panettone and Pandoro for the boys around Christmastime

•When he lived in Italy, his mom taught him how to make it and he still uses her recipe

•If that’s what he does, it turns out really great and it’s super yummy!

•However, if Marko makes you ANY other cake…good luck

•Aside from beloved family recipes intertwined with childhood memories, Marko does not believe in recipes.

•He is an agent of chaos and his cooking skills reflect this for the most part.

•He also really doesn’t get baking soda/powder and how much you should add (but he’ll never admit that and look at a recipe, that’s for quitters)

•But whichever he does he makes it with love🥹

•He frosts it, writes a sweet happy birthday message in colored icing on it, puts candles on it and lights them for you

•Once you blow out the candles he’ll take a little bit of it and shove it in Paul’s face (like wedding style)

•He wouldn’t do it to you of course because it’s your birthday (but Paul is fair game😈)

•He watches you eat it with heart eyes because food is such a big part of the culture in Italy, and it means a lot to him when you eat what he makes and enjoy it

Poly:

•If you’re more extroverted and don’t mind attention, they throw you a party in the cave!

•They invite all your friends and family so you’re surrounded by all the people you love

•Marko buys all your favorite snacks and drinks

•David makes a playlist of all your favorite songs for dancing and vibing

•Dwayne and Paul are in charge of decorations

• “We need a theme”

• “Not all parties have themes Paul”

• “All the good parties do! Don’t you want the best for the love of our life???”

•They make it an 80s theme party

•And not like tacky 80s themed, actual, very authentic 80s themed party

•All the guest come in 80s themed outfits (they don’t need to change) and they put something aside for you to wear too when you arrive at the party

•They do the whole ‘make everyone hide until you come in and then jump out and yell surprise’ thing

•Then you dance the night away celebrating with your favorite people!

•But if you don’t like parties, and you prefer not to be the center of attention, they have a plan for that too!

•They steal get a projector and screen and they set it up in the center of the cave

•They pull the mattress from your nest out into the main area too and throw tons of blankets and pillows on it

•They make popcorn and grab tons of candy and soda

•When you get to the cave they surprise you with a movie night in!

•You spend the night cuddled up next to them watching your favorite movie

•If you fall asleep, they carry the mattress back to your nest (with you on it of course) and all fall asleep in your nest with you

•They love you so much and want you to have the best birthday ever:)

I hope you liked this:)

Taglist:

@ghoulgeousimmaculate @altierirose @solobagginses

#the lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #david lost boys #marko lost boys #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #lost boys headcanons #the lost boys x reader

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eggtartz · 1 year

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What do they write in their diary's about the reader?👀 (Let just say that they have diary's in this headcannon🥹)

Characters- Izana, Rindou and Souya

a/n : THIS IS ADORABLE ANON AAAA hope you'll enjoy this as much as i did 🫶🏻

summary : what they write about you in their diaries (izana + rindou + souya)

izana

- SONGS. TONS OF LYRICS OF SONGS.

- he tried finding some melody while he's playing the guitar and he would write more in his diary

- after finishing it, he would sing it to you as a lullaby and you'd fell asleep to his soothing voice

- kakucho would find him drabbling words in a small note book during gang meetings

- noticing he was getting distracted, kakucho nudged him and izana would finally have eye contact with the people at the meeting

- "whatcha think he's writing?" ran asked after the meeting, noticing the leader would be lost in his own world while writing

- izana would write lots of lyrics, finding peace on the words.

- would write his hardships and all those sufferings he went through as a child

- won't publish it anywhere, he just likes writing it in his secret diary

rindou

- he would write those cheesy poems like "she was my muse" like he heard it in a movie and it reminded him of you

- the poems won't be too long, consisting like at least 4 lines

- also my headcannons is that his writing is pretty 🥰

- has polaroid pictures of you in his diary, he taped it there and write more poetry beneath the picture

- describes poems as how beautiful you are, how you're effortlessly perfect in his eyes

- one day, ran ALMOST read it ALMOST until rindou snatched it away before his sly of a brother would read it (ran eventually read it tho, teased him about it for a week straight)

- he likes to use big words in his poems he doesn't use beautiful he would use the word magnificent, glorious. (which makes it more cheesy according to ran)

souya

- writes about his date with you

- he forgets a lot of things so he would write down how your date went so he could read it again one day and grinned to himself

- (nahoya once caught him smiling to himself and he actually felt scared)

- have those small candid pictures that he keeps in the wallet but he has a copy of it and inserted the picture in between the pages (simultaneously working as bookmark too)

- WOULD TRY TO DECORATE HIS DIARY BECAUSE HE THINKS EVERYTHING ABOUT IS PRETTY SO WRITINGS ABOUT YOU SHOULD BE PRETTY TOO BUT HE LACKS CREATIVENESS 😭

- told his division members to buy him stickers at the store and bring it to him

- kept the diary behind his headboard (you found it while cleaning his room but kept it as secret so he won't be embarrassed by it)

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Note

5. from the dialogue with noir!! !

HELLO ANON, YES PLEASEEEEE ok so i didn't lie, i am a poet (self-proclaimed at least) this shall be an excuse to show y'all my poems too :D I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS !!!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he sees you in all the lines – spider noir x reader

peter had stumbled across a book of poems one day, and though he was never really one to fully comprehend the meaning behind the lines and stanzas, he ought to have given it a try because he knew how much you liked poems, why not make an effort to try and see what you see in these literary tidbits?

he flipped through the pages and ran his eyes over the lines, rereading them every now and then when he thinks he's understood the meaning behind it, only to get even more lost in the words literal meanings as opposed to what they symbolize. though peter found himself slowing down his reading and absorbing the words of this one poem he happened upon entitled, "thread".

he read the stanzas aloud as a murmur, then, he soon reread it several times with his voice getting a little more audible as he allowed the words to sink in.

"i watched under the parade of umbrellas, the rain speckling, my thread's color as it's fading. i stare as you catch my gaze-- you must've thought the same, amidst this world and all its haze, you found me, i found you-- neither of us knew, but under this spectacle of mundanity, i've been woven into you."

and there, there in that final line, was everything peter had ever wanted to tell you. ever since you entered his life, you changed how he sees even the most minute of details and things. the way you held him in such intimate ways that, even after a long while, remains with him every second of every day. his palms and arms still tingle with the feeling of your fingers on every patch of his skin; his mind has retained all the memories of you that it could grasp, and refuses to let go of every bit of you it can keep, that he can keep.

when you get home, you're greeted to peter awkwardly clutching the poem book in his hands, with him mumbling a 'welcome home' to you as he tries to keep his sweet smile in. you greet him back and ask him what the book he's got with him's about, and peter finally confesses what's been on his mind ever since he read that line in the poem. "love, i... you know how hard it is for me to understand the hidden meanings in songs and poems, but i think this one's really something, this one really... really spoke to me." he said with a bashful grin as he met your gaze.

"never really understood poetry, but when i read a few lines from this... you were the image that came out of the words." he said as he handed you the book and you opened it to where peter left a bookmark in it. you read the highlighted line at the very bottom. "you've really left an impression on me, ever since i met you. and now that we're each other's... i can never begin to describe how much i you in everything in my life." he said with a slight chuckle as his voice softened from sheepishness. he blushed deeply as he held your hands that clasped the book's ends. "thank you for being in my life, darling. i could never ask for anyone better than you, no one else can weave their way into my life the way you can."

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @ophanimgold @thee-fantastic-mrfox

#spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir x y/n #spider noir fluff #spider man noir #atsv #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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brandogenius · 1 month

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Heyy, I was thinking of Lucy with English Major!Reader where they like to bond over books they have read and writing essays, poems, stories. Reader helping Lucy in some songs.

-🦝

i love it!! i’m gonna tie this in with another ask anon i got actually!! lemme get the ask ! i think the two would be good together!

“bookclub lucy!!! her and reader are part of a bookclub because obviously ms goodreads needs an outlet that involves more than writing reviews on a screen and of course shes going to drag her gf because social anxiety requires her to bring her comfort person!!! maybe they host sometimes and do cute themes based on the books they’re reading?”

‼️RPF‼️

HC - lucy x english major reader (short)

- reader is still in college

- lucy helping reader with their assignments. if it’s based off books that lucy has read, reader will go to lucy

- they share a vocabulary together. adopts words the other has said

- you and lucy love to bond over the books you two have read. you often swap books. buying books in the store for the two of you, knowing you’ll both end up reading it

- you both have a combined bookshelf. your books are lucy’s, lucys are yours. you share them all at this point

- both if you are apart of a bookclub. one that was promoted in your campus. bringing lucy along, you go there once every two weeks on a friday evening.

- it’s hosted at a new persons house every time, can imagine it being hosted at your shared house.

- both of you making sure to welcome the club members and proudly showing off your bookshelves

- reader has definitely written some story’s before that haven’t seen the light of day unfortunately. only person who’s read them are lucy

- you love to help lucy with song writing. you see it as a poetic way to write a story. lucy will slide her sheet over for you to read. you won’t change anything, other than tweak a few words / a sentence here and there

- “i can see the story here. i like it”

- you both like to go in dates to a bookstore, one has their eyes closed and hand running down the selection of books until the other says stop. whatever their hand lands on is the book they get

- people watching. reader loved to people watch and create stories for the people walking by. lucy loves to hear them, how your brain is able to come up with interesting backgrounds for each person walking by

- you have a goodreads and only follow lucy. people try to friend you but you decline. keeping the streak of having lucy only

- both of you reading the same books and finishing them at the same time (people think it’s so cute)

#pom writes #lucy dacus x reader #lucy dacus x english major reader #lucy dacus one shot #lucy dacus au #lucy dacus blurb #lucy dacus x introvert reader #lucy dacus fluff #lucy dacus fanfic #boygenius x reader #boygenius fanfic #boygenius au #boygenius one shot #boygenius blurb #boygenius fluff #boygenius angst

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blushblushbear · 4 months

Note

sorry..... me again...… you can choose to ignore this if you feel like it's too much

(not trying to guilt-trip you, please don't feel pressured

uh maybe... Nimh? Nimh is cute I like Nimh

if you don't feel like doing him, maybe Poe or Anon?

*blows the dust off this ask* oops this one's pretty old

I already did Nimh so Anon and Poe it is

Anon

Okay not to call the scott a drunk

but I'm about to call the scott a drunk

he's not too bad, but he is a little picky about what he will and will not drink

low key judges people for their choice of beers

side eyes people who order basically liquid candy as a drink (for a cocktail at least, he will rot his teeth on mountain dew don't get it twisted)

he mostly does pints but his fav mixed drink is a moscow mule

or a spiked energy beverage

speaking of drinks he always has a crazy amount of them

g-fuel, red bull, monster-- every energy drink type thing you've seen he's probably got

also drinks prime

also mountain dew

a lot of it

I joke about his teeth rotting but in all honesty he takes good care of them

that's the one gamer stereotype he does not fall in town

he's low key germophobic so his apartment and battle station are SPOTLESS

he defo has those touchland hand sanitizers cause he's a boujee bitch

speaking of boujee he's actually p well off

started trading stocks young and did crypto till it tanked

he doesn't like to talk about his crypto days (he was a hard crypto bro at it's peak)

usually his drunk rambles are about crypto

also conspiracy theories

also video games

his parents are decently well off too but he doesn't talk to them much

they don't have a bad relationship but it's definitely one of those 'you see the family only around the holidays' kind of deals

he has a lot of internet buds but I think deep down he's bad at making real connections and actually gets pretty lonely

likes watching animal videos, WOULD NOT get a pet

rarely has people over to his place, took him a while to fully mentally accept having you over

he was determined to get over it though cause he really wanted you around

would never shower with someone cause that just feels unsanitary-- the shower is for CLEANING

would maybe get a snake-- they're pretty clean

once went 3 days without sleeping

actually lost a lot of sleep to stardew valley when it first came out

his farm is AMAZING

loves to troll at video games but not in a run face first into the enemy team and ruin it for everyone kinda way

more a does a 360 no scope on you right when you think you're safe

you mad bro??? lol

sends lots of memes about liking his s/o cause he's really bad at saying how he feels

favorite director is Edgar Wright cause he's a man of taste and culture

regularly cleans and buffs his nails

has at least one to two drinks chilling in every room of the house

really wants to get an ear piercing

really vain about his looks even though he dresses like garbage

just tell him he's handsome, he's legit too proud to beg but he needs that validation

listens to a lot of underground bands and artists

also a lot of djs

owns 15 pairs of headphones

5 have animal ears

showers at least once a day unless he's in a gaming trance

once tried to write you poetry, felt like an idiot, removed all evidence of it's existence and would deny it fully if you ever found out

Poe

Probably not a surprise to anyone but he got bullied a lot in high school

Has been writing poetry since he was 10 and has notebooks full of poems and short stories from over his life

really wants to write some kind of vampire mystery series centered around a brooding poet vampire but also he's bad at writing mysteries

I've sad this before but he's in a book club with Nimh and Cashew

he keeps trying to get them to read romantic novels

Cashew was game until he realized Poe meant like Lord Byron romantic

Mary Shelley Romantic

thinks Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave is the coolest thing ever and is high key jealous

Mary Shelley is honestly his hero

secretly got addicted to soap operas

he wants to stop so bad but he can't

he doesn't have a pet but if he did he'd be that dude you can totally tell has a pet cause he's always covered in fur

not that Poe would even care

Poe actually never much cared for birds and is still salty about becoming a magpie

owns so many Victorian/Edwardian style coats

and vests

he's just one color palette/slight aesthetic change away from just being steampunk

owns so many bits of jewelry, it mostly just floats around his living spaces and he chooses what he's wearing that day at random

all the people who headcanon Poe as trans, you're correct

constantly painting his nails and it's always chipping

his nail polish is actually pretty jank but he doesn't care so long as his nails are black

his living spaces are a mess

lots of papers, lots of random odds and ends, lots of clothes and book and forgotten mugs everywhere

does actually partake in the music aspect of the goth culture

most of his fav bands are ones you haven't heard of

he doesn't actually like horror much

at least not this modern jumpscare nonsense

he likes his horror dark, dramatic, and poetically gorey

Saw??? more like pa-shaw he can't stand those movies

the closest thing he gets to liking more mainstream horror franchises is Chucky

Tiffany Valentine is his favorite (*jennifer tilly voice* ~Jennifer Tilly~)

he can always get down with halloween, but only the first one

he can fuck with Tim Burton and Guillermo Del Toro though

crimson peak is his shit

also Jane Austen bitch?!

he loves him some Jane Austen

Emily Dickinson

Mary Shelley obvs

he low key hates to be basic but fucking

read Emily Dickinson's poetry and tell him you're not simping

he legit does simp for Shelley and Dickinson

legit loves the Kira Knightly Pride and Prejudice will all his heart

Sylvia Plath

He's trying so hard not to be basic but he loves Wednesday Addams

that line about her being allergic to colors--- he felt that

regularly listens to sounds of rain and fireplaces

ye I think I'll end it here lol XD

#bear text #blush blush #blush blush game #bear talks #bb game #bb #bear answers #blush blush poe #poe blush blush #bb poe #poe bb #poe #anon blush blush #blush blush anon #bb anon #anon bb #anon

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