#sarah teasdale

[peppers-ghost-posts]

Winter Stars by Sarah Teasdale

I went out at night alone;  The young blood flowing beyond the sea Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings—  I bore my sorrow heavily. But when I lifted up my head  From shadows shaken on the snow, I saw Orion in the east  Burn steadily as long ago. From windows in my father’s house,  Dreaming my dreams on winter nights, I watched Orion as a girl  Above another city’s lights. Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,   The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars, All things are changed, save in the east  The faithful beauty of the stars.

#winter stars #poetry #poem #sarah teasdale #war poems #star poems #one of my favourite poems

[sexymonstersupercreep]

stunning skin - super astra superficiem

-- hattie watson -- kateryna zub -- krystel mari -- giorgia faggi -- clara veiga gazinelli -- alyssa sutherland -- olga bursíková -- hope loundas -- monica ollander -- sarah teasdale --

#stunning skin #freckles #alyssa sutherland #hattie watson #giorgia faggi #kateryna zub #clara veiga gazinelli #krystel mari #monica ollander #sarah teasdale #olga bursikova #hope loundas

[writinginnorthnorfolk]

Kissing Beneath Wood Smoke and Stars

Those first kisses beneath wood smoke and starswill stay with us forever, exploding with capriciouspiquancy that still lingers, effervescent in our mouths.The drought had broken like an ocean wave,a tang of North Sea air, ice-cold and delicious,and all we wanted was to drown in our embrace,heartbeats echoing, rhythmic and auspicious,lost in wood smoke kisses, stars and space. Kim M. Russell,…

View On WordPress

#BBC Sounds #dverse Poets Pub #Elizabeth Barrett Browning #Fleur Adcock #Joni Mitchell #Kiss #Kissing Beneath Wood Smoke and Stars #Sarah Teasdale #Sylvia Chidi #Tuesday Poetics

[daisyblog]

Congratulations

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN share their news with close friends.

Niall:

YN: PHOTO Hello Uncle Niall🤍

YN sent Niall the text and waited because she knew once he had read it, she was going to receive a call. 

And within a few minutes, YN’s phone began to ring with Niall’s name displayed. YN was quick to answer the FaceTime, eager to see his reaction.

“Hi Niall!”. YN and Harry answered together, a big grin on their face. 

“Are you two having me on?” Niall got straight to the point. 

“No…we’re having a baby!” YN explained.

“I can’t believe this…I think I’m gonna cry!” Niall had been there from the beginning of their relationship, so to see his two best friends happy and expecting a little one was emotional. “Congratulations guys…I’m so happy for you.”.

“Thanks Ni…well get ready for Uncle duties!”.

“I can’t wait!”. Niall couldn’t hide his excitement. “I’m gonna be their favourite uncle”.

“I think you’re going to have to fight for that spot with Louis!” Harry joked. 

“Tell him to give up now!” Niall teased. 

---

Mitch and Sarah: 

Harry: PHOTO Hi Uncle Mitch and Auntie Sarah❤️

Harry could see that Mitch was typing a reply, so he and YN waited for the response.

Mitch:  Little one is having a nap or I would be shouting down the phone right now!! CONGRATULATIONS GUYS!! Welcome to parenthood, we can’t wait for you to join us!! 

---

Jeff: 

Harry: PHOTO

Harry had sent his manager and friend a photo of the scan and purposely not saying anything more. So when Harry’s phone rang, he wasn’t shocked. 

“Harry!” Jeff didn’t allow Harry to answer. “What’s going on?”.

“I don’t know what you mean Jeffery.” Harry played dumb, a smirk covering his face. 

“You can’t just send me a baby scan and say nothing else.” 

Harry laughed but decided to put Jeff to ease. “YN’s pregnant!”.

“Fuck off!”. 

“I’m serious…she’s like fifteen weeks now.” Harry explained. 

“FIFTEEN WEEKS!” Jeff had a similar reaction to others when the couple announced how far along YN was. 

“We only found out this week.” Harry defended himself.

“Well all I can say is…Congratulations H, you really deserve this and I’m behind you and YN every step of the way!”. 

“Thanks Uncle Jeff.” Harry teased. 

---

The Love Family:

Harry: PHOTO Our new addition to the love family🫶🏼❤️

Elin: Aww you guys🥹Congratulations Harry and YN🤍

Ariza: Congratulations to you both! So happy for you, amazing news!

Niji: Congratulations! You both deserve so much happiness❤️

Pauli: YESSS!! Saucy saucy😂A big congrats my man!

Yaffra: Wow! Congratulations!! 

Lloyd: 👀…THIS IS THE BEST NEWS! Congratulations Boss x 

Brad: WOOOOO! I KNEW IT! Congratulations H and YN x

---

Zayn: 

Despite some distance being created when Zayn left the band, YN had always tried to stay in contact with him. They didn’t talk all the time but they would occasionally catch up over a few messages or now and again a FaceTime call, especially when Zayn had Khai.

YN: PHOTO Hello Uncle Zayn 👋🏼

Zayn: What a message to wake up to. I wasn’t expecting this news. A massive congratulations to you and H, you’re going to be amazing parents❤️

---

Liam: 

YN: PHOTO Hello Uncle Liam 👋🏼

Liam: 😱😱😱

Liam: OH MY

Liam: I’m speechless 

Liam: A huge congratulations to you guys! You deserve so much happiness and I wish you all the love x 

---

James Cordon:

Harry: PHOTO Hello Uncle James!!

James: Thank you very much for making me cry on a Monday morning!! WAW!! A big congratulations to you both!! H…welcome to fatherhood, it’s incredible. Big love x

---

Lou Teasdale: 

YN: PHOTO Hi Auntie Lou👋🏼🩷

Lou T: OMFG!! You kept this quiet! Congrats my darlings🩷Love ya both xx

---

Nick Grimshaw:

Harry: PHOTO Hi Grimmy x

Grimmy: This better not be a joke! Congrats both! Catch up soon? Orange juice for you YN x 

Tag List: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles writing #one direction #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x tomlinson!reader #harry styles x oc #harry x reader #harry x yn #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic #harry styles series masterlist #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #liam payne #harry 1d #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #tomlinson!yn

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

"Look for a lovely thing and you will find it." Sarah Teasdale

[ramonaflow]

Hiiiii, love! 💘💘💘💘💘

Coming to you with some sleepover questions!

Okay, here goes!

First you get to rate hot or not, six men I, personally, find hot.

Hot or Not:

Rahul Kohli

Aldis Hodge

Riz Ahmed

Tom Hardy

Harry Shum Jr

Daniel Kaluuya

Then six latest People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive winners.

Hot or Not:

Patrick Dempsey

Chris Evans

Paul Rudd

Michael B Jordan

John Legend

Idris Elba

Very random FMK:

Sarah Snook

Mary Elizabeth Winstead

Rhian Teasdale

If you won the lottery, would you spend the money on a trip around the world or on a luxury house, cars, clothes, jewelry etc.? You can't have both. You need to choose either or. So if you choose the trip, you'd come back from it to the same exact existence you're living now.

Top three songs released in 2023?

OR

Top three albums released in 2023?

Hiya beautiful ❤️

These hot or nots are hard because I think they're all good looking but I don't know if they're hot, you know?

Let's see

Rahul Kohli - Hot

Aldis Hodge - Hot

Riz Ahmed - Obviously Hot but specially with bleached hair 🔥

Tom Hardy - Sometimes Hot

Harry Shum jr - Sometimes Hot

Daniel Kaluuya - Not

Patrick Dempsey - Not

Chris Evans - Hot when he has a beard

Paul Rudd - Not. He is cute though

Michael B Jordan - Hot

John Legend - Not

Idris Elba - Hot

For FMK. This is pretty mean of you to be honest 🤣😭

Kill Rhian because she's so hot, obviously, but she's a bit young for me lol.

Fuck Mary.

I would marry Sarah because she's gorgeous, and hot and seems super nice. And I would take her surname because then I'd be called Sara Snook and I think it's funny 🤣

If I won the lottery, as much as I would love a trip around the world, I would have to pick the house and stuff. I would love to be able to move away from where I live now.

The last questions are both difficult because I'm very set in my ways with music and I don't listen to a lot of new stuff.

I've just gone through a list of every album released and Hozier is the only one I've listened to enough to describe as a top album.

Unreal unearth - Hozier

Thank you for asking ❤️🥰

#sleepover saturday #asks #ask game #get to know me

[entroooopy]

There will come soft rains, by Sarah Teasdale, 1918

#mine #nature #mother nature #aesthetics #photoset #poetry #liminalcore #abandoned

[hexjulia]

my most annoying trait is that i love editing poems. without being asked to. often when the poets are dead. i have an entire document of 'sarah teasdale's poetry edited to be good instead of just having moments of irritating brilliance'. i've been holding a grudge about the Potential of her poetry for literal years. and that's not the only one. i have multiple documents like this. i've thought of publishing it as a joke but i'm not sure if enough people would understand it as both deeply felt and just something i think is very very funny to do. it's not that serious but it is. fhjsdfh

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I was looking up poems for a fic I'm planning about an unfrozen and cured Nora meeting Victors new "friends" - the other Rogues, mostly Scarecrow, Riddler, Two-Face and the Sirens, but other names like Mad Hatter, Anarky, Bane and Man Bat are mentioned, besides other cold based villans who just aren't from Gotham - and I discovered "Fear" by Sarah Teasdale and it just fits Jonathan soo well. It's a bit on the nose. But is still perfect for him. Now I'm headcannoing it as his favorite poem.

#nora fries #scarecrow #jonathan crane #sara teasdale #is a really good poem

[peppers-ghost-posts]

Winter Stars by Sarah Teasdale

I went out at night alone;

The young blood flowing beyond the sea

Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings—

I bore my sorrow heavily.

But when I lifted up my head

From shadows shaken on the snow,

I saw Orion in the east

Burn steadily as long ago.

From windows in my father’s house,

Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,

I watched Orion as a girl

Above another city’s lights.

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,

The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,

All things are changed, save in the east

The faithful beauty of the stars.

#favourite poet #poems #winter #sarah teasdale #pulitzer prize #poetry #war poems #american poems

[shinhati]

little list of my favourite poems

Faith by Frances Anne Kemble Spring by John Hall Wheelock Rain at Night by Helen Hoyt I am Weary of Being Bitter by Arthur Davison Ficke At the Sea-Side by Robert Louis Stevenson On Seeing Weather Beaten Trees by Adelaide Crapsey Profits by Fannie Stearns Davis The Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore Nobility by Alice Carey It Was a Night of Early Spring by Sara Teasdale Tell Me Tell Me Sarah Jane by Charles Causley

[effervescentdragon]

I think you are one of the kindest, most talented and wonderful people I have had the pleasure to know.

I also think you are an asshole and that makes me love you even more.

Hello anon, do you maybe know this one poem by sarah teasdale

yah that ✌🏻

#akira answers asks #lovely anons <3

[awoodlandsheart]

Evelyn and Philippa Hapwell from The Light Between Worlds by Laura E. Wymouth

I thought of you and how you love this beauty, And walking up the long beach all alone I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder As you and I once heard their monotone. Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -- We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me. - I Thought of You, by Sarah Teasdale

#the light between worlds #evelyn hapwell #philippa hapwell #there is literally No content for this book but that's okay i'll make some

[spinningprincess]

Untitled Check Please fic

NurseyDex, probably rated T for language. Miscommunications abound, but also I’m cracking myself up, so I’m sharing. And they get over themselves pretty fast. Slightly unedited.

It wasn’t that Will didn’t love poetry himself. He’d cut his teeth on it, listening to his mother read Keats and Wordsworth and Sarah Teasdale aloud while he happily played with blocks, hearing his older sister write and rewrite and re-rewrite a poem while he worked on little-kid homework, watching while his brothers rehearsed Shakespeare in the back hallway and while shooting baskets in the driveway, reciting poems big and small to his baby sister to keep her from crying on car trips. Poetry was the heartbeat of his house, so deep in his bones that he’d never thought of it as anything other than a fact of life. Dinner meant poetry, summer meant theater, love meant rhyming couplets and limericks.

High school was used to poetry-loving Poindexters and friends, so there was no conflict that he saw. (He learned later that his brothers had won that for him with their fists, and he was deeply deeply grateful. High school was also used to Poindexters flying off the handle at the least provocation, and was frankly grateful that by Will’s turn he simply growled and recited Shakespeare at people.) College though, in college he learned that most of the time people who looked like him, who behaved like him, thought of poetry as soft, “girly” (and what bullshit was that) and not for people like him.

Unfortunately, he learned that by watching one Derek Nurse grow prickly and defensive of his own poetry habits, instead of sharing with Will and letting Will share back. Oh, it looked like sharing, but it was more along the lines of a toddler insisting that you eat their soggy goldfish cracker than it was the give and take that Will was used to.

Still, he listened, let the world of poetry expand, brighten, gain color and movement, and while Will was reeling from the revelation, and therefore letting his face react without his input, he became that guy who doesn’t know about poetry, and he decided not to fight it this time. He promised his mother that he wouldn’t forget her favorites, but he pressed Nurse to teach him, hiding his interest under chirps and bad temper. It didn’t get very far, except that he picked up some Neruda and Baldwin to go with his Intro to British Poetry book. Eventually the temper mellowed out, he couldn’t pretend anymore, and of course the day Nurse caught him reading Shakespeare’s sonnets for fun (again) was an awkward day. “Yo, Poindoodle, I thought you didn’t like poetry. What’s up with the dead white guy?” “Sometimes you have to go back to the canon when your head’s too full of words to actually write them down. Shakespeare’s not my favorite, but I don’t have a copy of my favorite Sarah Teasdale here, and the rhythms are grounding, yeah? God, there’s this one guy who does Hamlet soliloquies on YouTube that are SO good, but you can only watch some dude in his apartment asking whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer’ so many times before that doesn’t work anymore, and so I come back to the sonnets.” “Oh,” said Nurse, sort of weakly. “Chill.” “Do you want to hear my favorite? God, this one is great, my sister’s favorite buskers in Portland wrote an arrangement of this one for her when she was 21, it’s amazing. You know this one, I know you do, but: ‘Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all - “ Dex finished the sonnet, trying to hit a balance between hitting the iambic pentameter too hard and turning it into prose, letting his voice stay soft and conversational. “You… just… have that memorized?” “Chyeah?” “OK, this is… my world view is being tilted, what else do you have for me?” “Ok, so I don’t HAVE this volume with me, but Sarah Teasdale [your faults had made me love you more] was literally part of my parents wedding vows, and I basically grew up on that concept as a foundation for marriage.” “…” “What’s up bro?’ “But I thought you didn’t LIKE poetry.” Nurse didn’t whine, he was too adult and suave for that, but he… would have been whining, in a person less suave. “Nah bro, just unfamiliar with a lot of the stuff that isn’t dead white people. And my brain doesn’t… absorb information as well as it used to, so it’s so much harder to memorize new stuff, and I really struggle with reading it.” “You’re blowing my mind here.” “I know they say that learning styles aren’t a thing, but I definitely have an easier time processing poetry when it’s spoken. But like, my CS lectures, I need to read the notes, so it’s something about poetry, I think. Probably because the spoken rhythms are such a big part of the medium.” “Wait. Excuse me. You’re telling me that if I drag you to a POETRY RECITATION you’ll get more out of it? How did I not know this? Have you been holding out on me?” “I mean. I tried to say, back when I was first asking about your favorite poets, but the narrative became that I didn’t like poetry (or you) and I decided I was too tired to fight about that too.” “Fuuuuuuck” “It’s ok? Like, we made friends anyway and I’m ok with that?” “No but. Just. FUCK.” “Ok, no. I’m the slightly incoherent one, you’re the one with the suave and the words, remember?” “I FEEL LIKE THAT’S A LIE, POINDEXTER.” “No, my own words are really hard to pin down, especially if I’m emotional. All five of us kids are like that, that’s why Mom had us learn so much Shakespeare. ‘If you can’t use your words, use someone else’s’ was her big thing, and it honestly kept us from scuffling a lot. Arguments tended to devolve into like, our favorite scenes from A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream or some shit.” “Argh.” “And you can’t exactly pull out Hamlet on the ice, right? I’d be a magnet for all the worst chirping and hard checks if I respond to shit stirrers with ‘there’s something rotten in the state of Denmark’.” “Ok, but I NEED you to try it in practice and see what happens.” “Only if you’re right there with me with the Shakespeare, bro. I’m not going to be the only one being this silly on the ice.” “Got your back. Although. I’m… just… gonna run a couple laps around the quad or something because my brain is NOT handling this well.” “Go on then. Although I was going to tell you the story about how we’re all named after Mom’s favorite poets, which is why all three of my mother’s sons are named William.” “You’re shitting me.” “Sadly not quite. My oldest brother is Christopher William, after Marlow and Yeats, the next brother is Robert Owen because Dad put his foot down about Robert Wilfred (with Christopher William, you see), after Burns and Wilfred Owen, my older sister is Sarah Elizabeth after Teasdale and Browning, then there’s me, William John after Shakespeare and Keats, and my little sister Emily Emily.” “What.” “Emily Anne, but Emily for Dickinson and Anne for… ah, Emily Bronte, mom decided the Bronte sisters could stand in for each other. She’s been Emily Emily in the family for years.” “Your mom is unhinged.” “My dad too, it’s great. Gods, you should come up this summer and see what a family picnic is like. Kit and Robbie both have kids and the babies are hilarious.” “I. Am. Going. For. A. Run. I will want a beer and a nice book of Harlem renaissance poetry in the Haus when I get back.” “Aw. Go for your run. We’ll be here.” Will snickered quietly to himself before packing up and heading to the Haus. As usual, Bitty was in the kitchen humming, and he quirked an eyebrow at Will. “You’re in a good mood, what happened?” “Nurse found out about the poetry thing, I think I broke him.” “William John Poindexter, you must not bait Nursey into brain problems.” “It’s good for him, expands his brain. And now maybe when I ask him to read me something he WILL instead of assuming I’m chirping.” “So where is he, if he’s fine?” “Running, he wants beer and his own favorite poetry when he gets back here. I think he left a book in Chow’s room, but if not I am carrying one around just in case I manage to like, figure out how to read poetry this week.” Bitty just pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, and Will grinned. “The only person who hasn’t figured it out is the person who needs to come to the conclusion organically, you’re not smart.” “Be nice. There will be seven layer bars later.” “Thanks Bitty! I’ll be in Chow’s room!” Will headed up the stairs with what he thought of as Winnie-the-Pooh rhythm: thump thump thump, all the way up. By the time he got to Chris’s room, Chris was leaning in the doorway giggling. “What did you do to Nursey, he just texted me a string of emojis that don’t make any sense, and an all caps POINDEXTER.” “He found out about the poetry thing and it broke him. And I told him about Emily Emily.” “His books are over there, don’t fuck on my bed.” “I would never. Not without you, anyways.” “You say the sweetest things, I’m going to go do my homework in the kitchen.” “Make sure Nurse gets a beer on his way through, he’s all discombobulated. Hah.” “I’d say you’re enjoying this too much, but actually I think you’re enjoying this the right amount. Be good.” Chris brushed a kiss over Will’s cheek and headed downstairs, and Will snickered to himself a little before popping open his own beer. He sprawled out on his stomach on Chris’s bed, his sonnets in hand, and a copy of Pablo Neruda in translation that he was beginning to suspect was not an awesome translation. Maybe he could find it in the original Spanish and cross reference. Although his Spanish was better up for responding to chirps on the ice and asking for the bathroom that one time he got to visit Puerto Rico than it was to interpreting metaphor. “Yo, Dexy. Chowder said you were doing homework up here.” “Nah, still reading poetry. Chow says your books are over there.” He gestured at the shelf that Derek had pretty clearly taken over, and moved over on Chris’s bed incrementally, just enough to be noticeable. “What I want to know is, how did I not notice this for over a year?” “I don’t exactly walk around reciting poetry, right? And you don’t necessarily notice what I’m reading at night on roadies, and it’s not actually weird that we don’t know every part of each other’s routines.” “But poetry is my THING and I feel…” Derek stopped, visibly took a deep breath, and started again. “I feel like I’ve been a bad friend because I let my first impressions and some stereotypes get in the way of seeing something about who you are as a person.” “Mmm. You did, and I didn’t push back against that because it would have just contributed to the fighting, and honestly I wanted to see if we COULD become friends anyway. So like. Don’t necessarily feel bad because I let your assumptions be a science experiment, that’s on me.” “So uh. I feel like we could go back and forth on this one for a really long time, OR we could decide that it’s mostly both our faults and we can talk about poetry?” “Or you could read me something? Or, honestly, do you have a better translation or the original Spanish of this Pablo Neruda? It … feels like these are white-people metaphors and it just doesn’t seem like a good translation.” “You speak Spanish?” “Not that great, but I can almost read it ok. My accent is so bad as to be unintelligible unless I’ve got the red haze of rage going on.” “I doubt that, but we’ll deal with that later. Let’s look at the book you have, and we’ll see if I have it somewhere. Why does Chowder have this many of my books?” “Because you leave them places and Chris has a shelf for them and I don’t, so whenever we find one we put it here?” “That’s… really sweet actually.” “No, nope, now is NOT the time, now you’re going to help me with this fucking translation or you’re going to read me something you think I should hear. Emotions later, nice soothing… uh, over the top love poetry? I guess? now.” “Oh, yeah, that’s a bad translation, shit I’m sorry. I have this copy that’s Spanish on one page and English on the facing page, you can borrow it? And cross reference against your book, if you want to.” “Oh, yeah. I’d like that. It’s funny, Spanish is basically the only time I really need to be READING the words to get the poetry. It all just goes together better for me that way. You gonna read me something good?” “Yeah, ok.” Derek pulled a well-worn book from the shelf, pet the cover gently once or twice, and began to read aloud. He finished his beer, and Will’s, and then Chris came upstairs with some of Bitty’s seven layer bars and a six-pack, and he and Will sprawled out together, legs tangled, listening to Derek read. They listened to poem after poem, finishing the six pack between them. Derek finished the last of his beer and the last of a poem, and startled a little bit. “Fuck, how long has it been?” “Like, an hour and change?” Will looked at Chris, and then back at Derek. “Uh…” “It’s dinner time, are you two coming with me, having me bring something back, or going out… um… together.” “Wh… will you bring something back? I’m kinda in a groove here, and I shouldn’t eat only cookies for dinner.” Derek’s eyes were wide as the implications of what Chris said caught up with him, and Will smiled his gentlest smile. “Yeah, if you could grab us something that’d be great, thanks babe.” Chris dropped a kiss onto Will’s head, hugged Derek tightly, and took the empty bottles and the empty plate away with him. “I… uh.” “It’s ok bro. Everyone knows I have a thing for you, but that’s a me problem, you don’t need to feel weird about it.” “Everyone does NOT know, because I am part of everyone, and this is fucking news to me.” “Huh. I wonder if Chris had money on you noticing today.” “I… ok, look man. I didn’t realize you liked guys, and maybe you don’t in general and do like me in particular, but I’ve been. Pining. Over a dude I thought was straight for the better part of a year and a half, and it turns out that every-fucking-one else I know knew he LIKED ME BACK and not one person said anything.” “Well. Who’ve you talked to?” “Uh. Shitty?” “Ok, NGL, I haven’t talked to Shitty personally, so I don’t *know* that he knows. And Lardo wouldn’t tell him unless he brought it up to her. She’s had to hear some epic fucking whining from me though, I owe her big.” “And Chowder … uh. Kissed you?” “Nurse. DEREK. Chris and I have been kissing each other for, no lie, a semester and a half. He keeps pajamas and a toothbrush in my room, and I have a set here. We’re not dating, exactly, although I suspect there’s room for that in the future, depends on Farmer. We’re also not fucking, but we’re certainly kissing and also literally sleeping in the same bed, and I… just… need to know how that’s news.” “We’ll… just… pretend that I’ve never observed anything ever, ok?” “Ok, well. We’ll talk about that sometime.” “Um. So. I’ve obviously never observed anything, ever. Apparently you like guys? In general? And me (and Chris?) in particular?” “I’m like, one more awkward exchange from pulling out my own toenails. Hey Nurse, you wanna go out with me sometime?” “WHY ARE YOU THE SMOOTH ONE.” “Someone’s got to be, and you’re not stepping up. Seriously bro, are you ok?” “Can… you not call me bro when … FUCK, yes, yes I would like to go out with you. Can you not call me bro when we’re having a dating conversation?” “Like, ever again if we start dating, or…” “Oh, huh. Yeah, no, it’s ok in general, just weird RIGHT NOW.” “Ok. Derek, are you ok?” “NO I AM NOT OK. My crush likes me back AND ALSO turns out to be deeply invested in my hobby and I’ve been failing to notice this super important thing about him for a year and a half almost and…” “Can I kiss you?” “Oh fuck yes.” Will had pulled back a little bit during the conversation, not wanting to loom or be intimidating or anything. Now he scooted closer to Derek and tugged him in to an embrace first, before pulling back enough for a kiss. They got a little caught up, and when Will finally broke the kiss and sat up he took a minute to realize that he’d needed to sit up. “Hey, I… uh… I don’t want us to move too fast? And probably we should keep our pants on in Chris’s bed.” “Fuck, yes. I mean. I’m down for moving a little fast, but I… just learned that you’re into guys and also me and also maybe polyamory TODAY and I probably should not be rushing to take my pants off for at least like, 24 hours.” “Mmm, I’m totally willing to put out on the first date, but not until then, so I guess we’re gonna need to sort that out.” “Ok. But like, making out is ok? Um. Now I mean.” “Lemme text Chow? Not… not because he’s gonna be upset about the making out, but because I wanna check that he’s not upset about the making out *on his bed*” “Fair, yeah. I mean. We could just… sit on the floor, though?” “Oh my god Derek. Give me two seconds.” He’d barely set his phone back down when it chimed with a return text. “Hah. He’s fine. Says he’s not going to knock though, since it’s his room, so we shouldn’t do anything we don’t want him to see.” “You know what? I’m just going to set that aside for a second. How… where…” “Come here?” Will asked, gesturing to his lap a little. It took a couple of seconds of positioning, but a lap full of defenseman was VERY nice, and Will hummed happily before capturing Derek’s lips with his own. He wrapped his hands around Derek’s hips to hold him steady, and began the lovely process of finding out what kind of kissing Derek liked best. Chris, as promised, didn’t knock, although he wasn’t terribly quiet about coming in either, and Derek had sat up a bit, although he was still in Will’s lap. “Damn that’s hot. Don’t mind me, I grabbed you salads and sandwiches because they’ll be fine cold, or rather warm, you can keep going for a while.” “Nah, now that you’re back we can talk about frog things, or whatever.” “Now that I’m back you can tell me how it is you went from being wildly clueless to kissing in the time it took me to eat dinner?” “Dex used his words like a grownup and only laughed for a little while when I flailed.” “It pains me to agree with that, but it’s true.” “Ok, but like. That seems overly simplistic, right? What words? And uh. Can I maybe get in on some of that Dex using his words like a grownup, since there’s… uh.” “Oh, yeah, I opened with the us not-dating (yet?) thing but the yes kissing thing, and I think Nurse needs a minute to absorb all the revelations?” “I … I thought I did, but actually maybe I think that as long as I know what’s up AND every frog night doesn’t just turn into making out that you guys should continue with whatever you’re doing? Or. Uh. Not all of every frog night.” Derek curled in on himself just a little, and Will tightened his grip to keep Derek in his lap. “Hey babe? I’ve got you, whatever you need. And right now it seems like you need some cuddles and some friend time, and maybe Chris and I talk later? But just because you’ve been in your head about this and therefore not seeing stuff, doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve the best things. Do you wanna talk, or just watch something fun and be close for a bit.” “I… suspect I need some Chowder time soon? But this is nice and I like feeling cared for?” Will rolled out his shoulders just a bit, gave Derek a quick light kiss, and tipped him onto the bed, where Chris caught him. “Hey friend. I’ve got you too.” Derek snuggled in aggressively, and Chris chuckled. “Yeah, cuddles and … Howl’s Moving Castle?” “Sounds good. Fair warning, I have Opinions on the differences between the book and the movie.” Will grinned and got himself comfy next to Derek, wrestling him into a more snuggly position. “Of course you do.” Derek grinned at him from Chris’s arms, and Will kissed them both on the nose. “You’re silly. I like it.” “Good. Let’s watch this movie. Which is only a little bit like the book.”

***

“Oh,” said Will, shyly, from beneath his, no, *Derek’s* beanie. “I wrote you a poem. Um. Before.” Derek forgot to be mad about the beanie. “Holy shit. Um. Can… are you saying I can read it, or….” “Yeah, I’d like you to read it. It’s not … it’s for reading, not hearing. I think.” “Ok. Holy shit. I thought you weren’t good with words.” “I’m NOT, read the poem!” Dex thrust a notebook into Derek’s hands, open already to a page where, indeed, there was a poem, a glorious beautiful poem written for Derek. Absently he reached into his own bag and handed his notebook to Dex, eyes not leaving the page. He’d read the thing twice and was so bowled away by how beautiful the words that Dex had used to tell him that he wasn’t good with words were. “What are you - oh. These your poems?” “Nah, just my poems about you.” “Jesus. I’m behind, I guess.” “No! You… you DO things. You’re right, the poem made it clear that I wasn’t reading the … million and one ways you take CARE of us… wrong.” “I wasn’t kidding about the hat you know. Especially since I’ve got yours.” “I didn’t realize you could knit?” “Oh, yeah. Uh. Yeah. Most of the scarves and things I have are hand-knit, either by me or Lizzie.” “Lizzie?” “Sarah Elizabeth, m’older sister.” “Right, ok. So you and your sister knit.” “And Dad. Grandpa taught us.” “Man your family is NOT what I was picturing.” “Never is. I really need to sit down to read these, they’re too good and I’m going to sit down kind of suddenly and embarrassingly otherwise.” “Ok. Bench? Nice pile of leaves? One of our beds?” “Mmm, that last one sounds good. I guess I’ll put them away ‘til we get to the dorm.” “You guess.” “One of us needs to be looking where he’s going, and it usually isn’t you.” Dex’s chirp, delivered more gently than similar chirps had been in the past, made Derek suddenly rethink a whole pile of interactions they’d had. Maybe… maybe the chirping was flirting? And not being mean? Especially in light of… “Hey dude, I actually. Uh. Need that notebook back for a second?” “Sure. Why?” “Need to write something down.” “Ah.” Derek stopped in the middle of the path to write, putting down words and scratching them out and rewriting them, barely noticing when Dex steered them over to the side, and then to a bench to sit. With a sidelong glance, Dex pulled his water bottle, a bottle of Derek’s favorite flavor of Powerade, and a ball of yarn out of his bag. No, a knitting project. Derek wanted to ask, but he wanted to write more, so he let it go. They sat, Derek writing frantically, tearing the whole page out and copying it over neatly finally, while Dex worked on something in his lap. It looked soft and warm and Derek badly wanted to pet it, but at the last minute he remembered how he felt when people read his poetry, and asked first. “That. Looks really soft. May I touch it?” “Actually, I’m hoping you’ll try it on? I think I want another couple of inches before I do the crown decreases, but I’m not sure. It *should* be soft on your hair though.” “It’s. Oh. It’s for me?” It looked cloud-soft and emerald bright, shining a little in the sun. He stared for a long moment before carefully taking the hat from Dex. It was in fact as soft as it looked, and he took a moment to pet it before putting it on. It mostly covered his ears, but not quite, and Dex was right, he liked a slouchier beanie in the winter. “A couple more inches is probably good. How do you get it so squishy?” “It’s called brioche stitch, like the bread. It means it’ll be extra warm for you. Usually I do two colors, but sometimes, like this time, one is enough.” “It feels like clouds. Or kittens.” “It’s a combination of wool and baby alpaca and silk, but you see how it’s just one piece of yarn? It’s called a single ply, so it’s extra fluffy.” “I mostly understood that?” “It’s for you, D. Because I stole your hat because I liked that it smells like you, and so  I wanted to make you a new one.” “Oh. Can. We should. Bed?” “Yeah, you were the one who wanted to stop. Let’s go sit down somewhere warm.” And he leaned over and kissed Derek gently before pulling him to his feet. They walked back to the dorm with their fingers tangled together and their shoulders brushing, and Derek knew it was love. It felt soon, but then. Love always did.

*** Reading Derek’s poems made Will feel the way he had when he got out on the ice for the first time. He felt like he was flying with his feet on the ground. They were clearly a study in attraction without understanding, and gradually the understanding grew and changed and bloomed, and he could see the first time Derek figured out what he was doing. Gradually Derek had figured out that his attraction was to *Will*, not just someone who looked like Will but didn’t talk, and then even more gradually Derek had figured out that Will being himself wasn’t meant to be antagonistic, that what looked like offers of friendship were just that. There were one or two from the last few weeks, since they’d gotten together, that made it pretty clear that Derek knew the attraction was requited, but that still seemed to think that the emotions other than lust were… eh, more one-sided than they actually were. Today’s poem was something else though. It made the rest of them fit together, instead of being a narrative of unrequited love (Will hoped it was love, at least) it became a narrative of romance realized. Something about his poem had made Derek’s brain click over into knowing how cherished he was, instead of pining. Will was deeply, profoundly, and kind of embarrassingly grateful that the words he’d worked so hard on had actually WORKED when the words that came out of his mouth hadn’t quite penetrated yet. Oh, they’d been dating for a couple of weeks now, but Will sometimes still caught Derek watching him with disbelief, as though the whole dating thing was an elaborate set-up. And of course, Will *wasn’t* good enough with words in the moment to make Derek see that their new relationship wasn’t due to Derek’s pining and Will feeling “sorry” for him (Will had never once seen a pity-fuck turn into a relationship of more than 12 hours, but maybe New York was different in that regard.) “Der. Have you… have you asked Bitty? Or Chow? Or Lardo? About me, about us? Because I feel like… Babe, I’m not good at words, but I thought I was using them ok, and I want to make sure you know how I feel.” “No, not it’s not. I mean, it is, a little bit, but I just. I get anxious, and more than one dude in high school was a dick about dating me, and Chris is…” “SO cute, but not my boyfriend. You’re my boyfriend, and I don’t want to fuck that up, so we’ll hold off on the polyamory talks until we’re sure we understand each other.” “I think I get it now. I’m. I like words, I feel good with words, but I do see that for you actions are how you say stuff. Actions and apparently other people’s words?” “Yeah, I… I don’t write poems? Except the one. My mom, yeah, and Emily Emily. We all know HOW, but they’re… that one took me about a month  you know, a little longer, and I… well, my brothers both wrote their own wedding vows, and Lizzie’s probably going to too, but that’s about it for us. Emily Emily got all the words, it turns out.” “I actually can’t get over that you call your little sister Emily Emily.” “Fair. She loves it, but even she knows it’s weird. She’s talked Kit into bringing her down here on a campus tour, you’ll get to meet them in a couple of weeks. But that’s not. Ok. Derek, it’s a little soon, but I love you. I LOVE you. And I’ll tell you as often as you need, but I also need you to work on seeing it in my actions? Because words are hard for me, and I’ll work on them for you, but that goes both ways.” “I. Will, I love you too. I thought it was… I thought I was being silly, but it’s been-” “About a year, for me. I don’t wheel at kegsters because of you. And the ears, but mostly you.” “Your ears are perfect, fuck you. I love your ears. I love YOU. Let’s… let’s yes, let’s see where this goes. I’ll be smooth again eventually.”

And eventually, he was. And in the meantime, they laughed a whole hell of a lot.

#my fic #Check Please! #nurseydex

[oberonsoracle]

" Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning,

We will come back to earth some fragrant night,

And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending

Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white. "

Sarah Teasdale, If Death is Kind (Excerpt)

#aesthetic #witchcraft #paganism #poetry #tattoos #artists

[silverpolish]

slow down, take a rest.

chatterton - henry wallis / peace - sarah teasdale / śpiąca kobieta z kotem - władysław ślewiński / woman lying on her back - henri de toulouse-lautrec / akiroq brost / reclining male - gina gables / odalisque reclining on a divan - eugene delacroix / i went to sleep - the beach boys / noon - rest from work (after millet) - vincent van gogh

#web weaving #compilations #nudity cw #art #quotes #inspired by me being fucking Tired #ok 2 rb