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satellite-evans · 8 months

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poets & soulmates

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry doesn’t know how to react when he learns that you don’t believe in soulmates.

Word count: a cute little blurb

Warnings: angst? Flufffff

A/N: heyyyyy!!!!!

It’s been ages since I last posted a fic, so I am soooo excited to post my very first Harry Styles one! I really hope you guys like it, I’ve worked on this for a while, so let’s see how it goes. I’m very excited and nervous to post this, but I am so happy to be back! Please tell me what you guys think and give me as much as feedback as you can so I can grow and be a better Harry fic writer for you all xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

If you had to describe the love you shared with Harry with a poem, you would probably choose the one from Edgar Allan Poe.

“We loved with a love that was more than love.”

It said so much in such few words; the best description of your love for him.

Because it is true, it is more than love. Always had been. If you took the love out of the relationship, you and Harry would be left with so much to survive. There was trust, for example. And also intimacy. Not to forget there was an understanding between you, too, that no one understood. If you were in a room with thousands of people, he would recognize you, every single time. Like you were a shining diamond between rocks. The effect you both had on each other, was beyond explaining in chemistry. Harry could touch you, and the breath that would escape from your lips oh so silently would already expose the effect he had on you.

Harry was no different, either. Seeing you smile proudly when you looked at him, made him turn into dust, that you blew away with your eyes. But he was afraid at first. To love.

He was afraid to love you.

For him, you were a stunning mystery. You carried things deep inside you that no one understood, and Harry was afraid to fail like the others. In his eyes, you were like the ocean and he was just a man who loved the waves but was completely terrified of swimming.

How couldn’t he be? At twenty nine, everyone had an idea in their head about how Harry was in relationships. Some said that he was single because he had commitment issues, others said the reason he was still alone was that he was too much of a playboy.

Yes, he had a few relationships before you and some of them did not end well, but Harry always respected and treated them with his kindness, always wanted the best for them.

He would do everything for his love, for you.

“Hey, love?” He asked you, clearly with hesitation. The way his voice shook a little didn’t go unnoticed by you in his London home where the both of you were lying in his bed. After spring came, Harry offered you to stay with him until summer so the two of you could enjoy long walks in the park with his favorite companion. You never said yes to an offer so quickly before in your life.

“Yes H, everything okay?”

How? How was it that every time Harry wanted to start a subject that was sensitive for him, you already knew by just the way he asked you his first question? Call it magic, call it luck. Harry liked to call it love.

“Do you think we’re soulmates? Like-I mean, we would be together and we will be forever?”

He didn’t know why that question was so important to him, but it was. He wanted to know your opinions and thoughts about the future both of you had. Every time Harry was dreaming about his future and how it would look, he realized you were always there. In the audience when he opened his biggest show ever, in the delivery room when he held his baby for the first time, everywhere. So your answer was very important to him. He wanted- no; he needed to know if he was present in your future as much as you were present in his.

“No, I don’t think we are. But that’s because I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Ouch. That shouldn’t have hurt him, but it did. Blaming you would be pointless. You didn’t believe in the whole idea of soulmates, but that didn’t make him less insecure. He knew it was too good to be true. That you were too good to be true.

The whole aura of the room changed and Harry slowly got up from where he was lying between your legs. You saw that his demeanor changed and that the happy, slightly tired Harry got replaced with a sad Harry.

“Hey, hey what’s that all about? Why the sad face?”

Honesty was one thing you both took extremely seriously. So that’s what you wanted to do this time, too. But without realizing you broke slightly Harry’s heart.

“It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to believe we are soulmates. I don’t know why I’m sad if I am being honest.” He said with a slight smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. He was clearly devastated by your answer.

You sat closer to him on his bed, touched his cheeks with your hands, and stared him deeply into his eyes. Harry already felt his heartbeat going faster. It was going so fast that he thought he was going to have a stroke. He held on to your arm dearly, so if he fainted, you could hold him. Like you always had been.

“I don’t believe in soulmates, and I don’t think that you & I were meant to end up together. What I believe is that we fell in love & that we worked hard for our relationship. I mean, look at you, you’re an amazing person with qualities so great that an individual can only dream of having those. Every woman is lucky to have you. I am from another country and I am younger than you. Remember all the news that they made about us when we first started going out? They told me I was a gold digger, that you were too good for me, that you cheated on me, and so on. But we didn’t listen to any of them. We let our love grow because we knew, H. We knew that what we had was special, and not everybody was lucky enough to feel what we felt. So no, I don’t think we are soulmates. But you are the one for me; Harry. You were in my past when I didn’t even know. You are my person in the present, And you will be in the future. Because I will always, undoubtedly, love you.”

Without waiting for his response, you connected your lips with his. You knew he was sensitive and these bare confessions took a toll on him, so you just kissed him, to let him know it was okay. That you were there for him, always.

“Just give me 3-5 business days, and I’ll come up with even a bigger love confession, promise.”

Harry said, after he broke the bruising kiss.

He wasn’t lying. Harry had no words to say to you. He knew you loved him, but not that much. It was like his brain & heart were on fire and you just put them out with your words. Relief washed over him, and like a cherry on his favorite cake, you kissed him with adoration.

“Oh, I know you will. It’s a known fact that you were always better with words, but just so you know, you don’t have to. I feel your love every time you look at me. Hate to break it to you, but your eyes give it away how much you love me, Styles.”

He didn’t care about the idea of the whole soulmate anymore. He felt so stupid that he was thinking about that. The love that the both of you shared, was more special, and rare. The two of you were even better than soulmates.

“That I do, Y/N. That I do. I love you so fucking much. It sometimes hurts. It hurts not to touch you, not to be near you, not to kiss you.”

He closed the gap between you with a passionate kiss again, that knocked your breath away. Your whole body was on fire, not knowing what to do. With every touch of his on your skin, the fire started to get more and more aggressive. He released your lips, but stayed close, so you could feel his breath on your lips and he could hear your heartbeat going faster.

“I am no poet, Y/N but just know that if I was, you would be my biggest inspiration.”

You looked him in the eyes, trying to control your breathing, but it was a lost cause. His blue eyes were like ice digging into your heart, and the only thing you could do was surrender.

“That might be the best poem I’ve ever heard.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n

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bitterkarella · 6 months

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Midnight Pals: The Halloween Factory

Ray Bradbury: gone too soon! Bradbury: the lazy summer afternoons picking dandelions by miller's pond forgotten, buried under an avalanche of adult responsibilities. No time for jump rope or blind man's bluff, there's a new game they play - a game of bills and forms and gray-faced men in suits.

Bradbury: ah! but tonight! Bradbury: tonight Bradbury: tonight will be Bradbury: a game of magic Bradbury: tonight, dear reader, they put aside their forms and licenses and dreary paperwork Bradbury: and journey back to a time when this big big world still had a lot of small small towns

Bradbury: for tonight and tonight alone Bradbury: remember the magic! Bradbury: the magic of Bradbury: halloween!!! [Midnight Pals presents a special holiday event: Ray Bradbury's Halloween Factory]

King: [wearing clown costume] hey guys, welcome to our halloween party! King: great costumes! King: love your monkey costume, edgar Poe: [muffled inside gorilla suit] it's an ape Poe: [muffled inside gorilla suit] like in the murders in the rue morgue Barker: great monkey suit edgar! real scary!

King: and boy clive King: you really went all out on that cenobite costume King: you put that together just for halloween? Barker: uh no Barker: not really

King: and frank! wow, that is an amazing wolf man costume King: you put that together just for halloween? Frank Belknap Long: uh no Long: not really King: but one thing i don't understand King: why are you wearing pants with a full body fursuit? Long: no Long: no reason

King: and howard! King: howard King: wow howard Lovecraft: you said i should come in costume King: yeah but King: howard Lovecraft: i dressed as the scariest thing i could think of King: yeah but King: oof King: howard

King: dean! great costume Dean Koontz: i'm a dog! King: yup! you sure are! Koontz: i borrowed the collar from clive King: you sure did!

King: and there she is! the queen witch herself! King: our mary shelley! Mary Shelley: sup fuckers King: dressed as frankenstein's monster i see Shelley: i'm dressed as frankenstein King: King: but mary Shelley: [flipping switchblade] King: oh yeah! mary's here as frankenstein!

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #dean koontz #hp lovecraft #mary shelley #ray bradbury #frank belknap long

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themarginalthinker · 6 months

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Say Nothing at All

(thanks for the inspiration, @enquiringangel lol I hope I did it justice)

One would think that between the pier, the town, the bluffs and their hiking trails, surfing and the beach, the tall, beautiful cliffs, and the Boardwalk itself, a place like Santa Carla would have more than enough for a thirteen year old to occupy themself for two short months of responsibility-less summer.

Idle hands, and all that. Maybe if Sam had been interested in any one of those other things, he wouldn't be here.

Arms hooked over the railing outside the Boardwalk main drag, staring out over the populace with listless eyes while the only two people in the town he could even classify as something close to 'friends' argued like nothing else in this world about....well, it had been fifteen minutes, and Sam still wasn't rightly sure.

"-which is why Luna was actually a better addition at that point than when they tried introducing her in the reboot-" Alan is explaining, but Edgar is hearing none of it.

"She is not! They completely mauled her character arc-"

"What character arc?" Alan scoffs. "they completely cut out the part about her Dad being devoured in front of her by the Red Crescent Pack, and turned everything into a soppy story about her boyfriend almost being turned into one of them and she has to save him with 'the power of love over the beast', which is not how it works-"

"I mean yeah sure, once you've got the tail, it's all over. We all know those comics are bullshit when it comes to the reality, but she-"

Sam's head slowly came down on the rail, forehead thunking against the wooded beam.

Anywhere else, and Sam chose to be here. Granted, he thinks sullenly, eyes darting over to a rack where various bikes (in particular, motorized ones) were parked, he doesn't exactly have the wheels to do much else. The Boardwalk was close enough to peddle, but he'd need something with a lot more power to actually get around town.

"Hey, listen, we've got a third party here. Sam!" Alan turns to him.

He's already warming up his eye rolls.

"Regardless of the shitty writing that ignores so much of how werewolves actually are, do you think it's a better story that Luna Greenfern acts on her own to get vengeance for her father and slaughters the rabid pack of killer werewolves with her bare hands as one of their own, or crying over her boyfriend's passed out body and her tears magically make him all better?" Asks Alan.

Edgar makes an indignant noise. "That's not what happened!"

"It's basically what happened."

"What kind of name is Luna Greenfern?" Sam comments.

Both brothers open their mouths, likely to begin explaining (or admonishing) even further, but they don't get the chance. The sound of high-pitched revving comes their way, and in an instant, both Alan and Edgar cut off their own words, look at each other, and then turn as a unit to face the noise. Sam blinks, and looks with them.

What comes down the way, parting the crowd around them with annoyed glares and grumbles thrown their way, is a group of kids on dirtbikes. None of which looked very new, but certainly imposing enough to command their space against plain bikes and scooters. Astride them was a group of boys. Sam and the Frog's age. they all seemed to share the same style - California mini-punk. Their shirts were sleeveless, de-armed at home with kitchen scissors, pants worn and distressed, their hair was long, or spiked, or made choppy with those same scissors. (If Sam had ever had the inclination and then dared acted upon it, Mom would have had a shit-fit to see him.)

The one in the front, with the best-taken care of bike, with the shortest hair spiked in the front, wore a jean jacket. It had one sleeve, the other purposefully torn off. The sleeve side had a long, black snake twisting around it, terminating in a cobra's spread hood and bared fangs. His eyes were dark, to match his hair, and he looked over Sam and the Frogs with a happy sort of disdain.

How many punks on bikes could one town take?

"Freddy," Alan says, doing his best to square his shoulders. Same recognizes the look on his face, the same he had the first night they met a couple weeks ago. Head tilted back, lips prepare to sneer.

Edgar, with his actually square shoulders, stood silently by his brother, arms crossed, boots at shoulder width, jaw set. Sending back the glare as good as he was given.

The lead boy, Freddy, apparently, scoffed. "Did your folks finally get sober enough to realize they owned a business?"

Alan shoots back, "Did yours finally get drunk enough to forget they have a son who still owes community service?"

There are a couple of gasps that are quickly muffled in the group of rival boys at Alan's accusation, but it's quickly cut off, almost with an understanding of what their leader will do if he chooses to rise to the taunt. Luckily, it seems he's got a little more brains that pride. Or maybe this just happened that regularly, but he doesn't react overmuch. Just continues to glare.

Sam makes the mistake of shifting his footing.

Eyes shoot to him instead.

Freddy twitches his chin towards him. "Who the fuck is this? Cindy Lauper's disowned cousin?"

There are snickers from the gathered, and Alan and Edgar glance back at Sam. Eyebrows raised.

He's on his own.

Sam shrugs, leaning back against the railing. It was a fine, breezy night, the 'Walk was hopping, the sights were seizure-inducing. What could bother him?

"Is everyone in Cali this complementary, or is there something about me specifically?" He smiles, placing a hand on his chest.

Freddy grips the handles of his bike, knuckles white as his glare turns actually quite angry. "Watch it, baby fag."

Suddenly, the air feels a lot thicker, and Sam is hard pressed not to so much as twitch his face. Edgar and Alan are standing at attention, focused on the little gang, who look equally prepared to make the leap forward at a moment's notice. This is neutral territory, outside any shop or home. All's fair, and it's anyone's game. Who will strike first...

"Well that wasn't a very nice word."

And suddenly the air seems too thin.

All eyes, regardless of affiliation or prior engagement, now fly over to the voice. Up, towards the top of the fake cabana at the end of the 'Walk they're all gathered near. Smiling down at them from his perch, like some grinning bird of prey. His jacket shines in a smeared, muted rainbow of colors and beadwork, violent, pornographic patches and embroidery that any of the boys on the ground's parents would beat them black and blue for daring to wear on their persons.

He stands and without taking so much as a second to even look down, jumps and lets himself fall the nearly eight feet from the roof to the ground. He lands with only a small jingle from his belt and the colorful fishing lures on his shoulder, feet firmly on the ground and rising from the crouch as though he'd just taken a step.

Marko raises a leather clad hand, holding a drink from some food joint, and takes a long, slow sip. He looks out, over the gathered group of young teens, lingering on the ones on the bikes. Sam watches each of them look away, down, to the side, anywhere else.

Marko's eyes land on Freddy.

Freddy is silent.

Marko's grin is wide and white. "How's your sis?"

Freddy jerks a little, like Marko's words were something like a knife, being toyed with close by, but not quite used. Not yet.

Alan and Edgar remained motionless, watching Marko's every move. Sam glanced at them for a moment, and their faces were emotionless.

In a voice that struggles to find its footing, Freddy answers, "She's fine. Um. Yeah."

Marko clicks his tongue. "Good."

His gaze suddenly flicks over, to the other side. (Sam can see Freddy actually slump a little in his seat on the bike, as though released from some kind of hold.)

Marko nods his head to Sam. "Sup."

"Hi," Sam says, a little awkwardly. "Where's uh. Everyone?"

Marko shrugs. "I know Mike went with David out past the pier. Not sure about anyone else."

Sam sighs. "If he comes back after three again without calling, Mom's gonna go praying mantis on him."

Marko smirks. "I'll pass it on."

He turns back to the young gang. In his shadow, his measured, careless steps as he comes in close to them, one hand in his pocket, the other still holding his drink, they look a lot less...less. A gaggle of teenagers barely old enough to be worthy of the title, leaning into each other as he comes close, trying to give him space to pass without making it look like they were frightened. It was honestly a little bit funny...if it also wasn't so weird.

They acted like Marko would murk them if they so much as breathed wrong.

He paused at Freddy, smile gone flat, eyes half-lidded. His hand comes out, a single finger pointed to the young punk, who looks at it like it's a loaded gun.

"...I'd watch your mouth. After all, you're so young," he says in a simpering, mocking tone, "and we wouldn't want you to say something you'll regret. Yeah?"

Freddy doesn't speak. He just nods.

Marko's hand shoots forward. The whole gang recoils, Edgar and Alan jolting in their stances, prepared to rush forward, though to do what Sam has no earthly idea-

and Marko's fingers, in an incredibly short, violent motion, ruffle Freddy's spiny hair, mussing the gelled spikes into disarray. Little joviality in the action. He finishes by shoving his head away, almost tilting the kid off his bike entirely. Forcing him back.

Freddy doesn't react to shit.

Marko's grin is back full force, bringing his drink back up to clench teeth around the red straw that darkens with a pull.

"Tell Shelly we say hi, huh?"

Freddy just sullenly nods in silence again.

Marko casts a last glance to Sam, and then is off. Slipping into the ebb and flow of the crowds.

The sounds around them slowly come back into focus, the people, the scents and lights. Like it was all suspended under Marko's encompassing presence. People passed the silent two groups, knowing nothing of what just happened, what almost happened, what...could happen.

In any case, Alan seems to shake it first, stepping forward with a hard stare and a thumb thrown over his shoulder.

"I think you should get lost. They don't like bikes up here. Wouldn't wanna get in trouble again, yeah?"

Freddy hasn't really recovered from whatever the hell scare Marko had instilled in him, because he doesn't even bother throwing a last comment at Alan as he revs up his ride, and his gang of equally silent follows trail away after him.

As they pass, the look he throws Sam's way is...it's hard to say.

It's so fast, but it looks almost sorry.

"What the hell was that about?" Sam asks when they're gone, around the corner, and the sound of their bikes is faded into the normal din.

Alan breathes out, long and hissing through his teeth, and Edgar...well, he hasn't really changed, looking exactly his usual perma-Rambo self, but he is looking to Alan, like he can explain this better.

"...So, you and your brother hang out with those guys, right?" He starts, and Sam shrugs.

"Mike more than me. They don't mind me being around when he doesn't, but uh, you know. Stupid little brother spoiling the real fun, type shit," Sam grumbles. "Why?"

The brothers exchange yet another inscrutable look.

"There are...rumors," Edgar says, leading.

"...Okay?" Sam responds, as he so clearly wants. "I mean. I. I think I figured with the whole..."

He reaches up, and pinches his own ear piercing. It's not like they really tried to hide it, he doesn't think, but when you could defend yourself as well as the quartet could, then he didn't think it was really an issue. Being open.

Alan, however, actually waves that aside. "No. Not to do with that. It's other stuff."

Sam spits out an exasperated noise. "Like what, then?"

"They like to ride dangerously," Edgar says, voice low and really putting on the gruff edge now. "Really fast on the back roads, and they play hopscotch with big-rigs on the highway out of town sometimes."

"Someone said they caught them playing chicken on the railroad tracks with an actual train coming, once. They swear they had to have been hit," Alan adds.

Here it comes. The first big eye roll of the night. Edgar leans in close.

"...Some say they had their accidents years ago, and just forgot to stay dead."

And, there is it. Sam lets 'em roll.

Not that it has any great effect on the pair. Never does. If anything, skepticism seemed to encourage their efforts to convince the civilian plebeians of the town that the world of the night was ever-more populated with ever-more spooky beings.

"I mean, obviously it's bullshit," Alan states, clearly agreeing with Sam. "Ghosts are created from violent deaths yes, but they can't speak to humans."

...Or not agreeing quite as such. Fucking hell.

"Whatever," Sams says with a shake of his head. "Anything else? Are they also responsible for they guy who fell off the pier Grandpa mentioned, who also happened to be off his face drunk? Did they steal the First Street street sign? Should you feed them after midnight or should we be worried about revealing their true forms?"

Sam laughs a little at the last one. It's actually kinda funny, thinking of someone like Marko, small and a little bitey, going Gremlin on someone's ass. Complete with the white hair bit and sharp teeth, cackling laughter.

Edgar and Alan don't laugh.

Not that Sam really expected them to, but they don't even relax at seeing his nonchalant attitude. If anything, they look...more tense.

"...So, a couple years ago, there was this cop," Alan starts.

"No one liked him. He was the sort that gave you a ticket for going a single digit above the speed limit, and around here they don't last long because the home office doesn't like dealing with all the legal tape they end up making," Edgar grumbles.

"Well," Alan continues, "No one...really knows what happened, but you know how the...those guys, don't really have. You know. Plates? Or tags, or anything?"

"Yeah," Sam nods. He'd noticed, but it's not like he could comment. No one around here seemed to care.

"Apparently this cop cared. And they didn't like that."

...Oh no.

Something drops in Sam's stomach. Something real, since Freddy's rude remark.

"He went missing for three days, and they found him in his patrol car, really dazed and sick and insisting that he'd been driving home but couldn't seem to remember where all the right roads were, said they kept changing. He was also pretty beat up, so they figured it was a concussion that did it. He kept like. Flinching when people would touch him, it was fucking weird."

Sam's lips are thin. He doesn't feel so jokey now.

"How old was this guy?" he asks.

"Thirty-something, I think," Alan says, knowing what Sam was trying to insinuate.

"...And they think it was-?" Sam says, gesturing off to the crowds. The people of note somewhere out there, in them.

Edgar and Alan look at each other, and shrug. "It's just a rumor."

Sam look away from the pair again, out over the railing of the balcony. The shoreline was an endless black wall beyond, the stars and moon blotted out by the lights of the town.

In the distance, the sound of motors rose and fell with the acceleration of their riders.

Maybe he'd ask Mike if he wanted to stay in, tomorrow night.

#the lost boys #sam emerson #alan frog #edgar frog #drabbles

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hauntedwitch04 · 2 years

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Date at the cemetery

🎃Halloween party🎃

Regulus Black x reader

Words: about 0.9k words

Warning: totally fluffy, just cemetery and super fluffy Regulus

Author’s note: hi everybody! here we are with the 16th and i totally loved it, hope you like it too!

✒️: “Strange as it may seem, I love walking through cemeteries at night. Everything is so scary, gloomy, and finally you feel really alive.” “Love, I think it’s time to stop reading Edgar Allan Poe.”

Requests are open I Ask I My masterlist I Join the Taglist

You and Regulus have never had a normal date.

It took ages for either of you to make a move to declare your love for the other, so much so that eventually your brother and his friends had gotten involved. After they managed to convince you to see them at the pub in Hogsmeade. When you arrived and saw the other one and no shadow of the Maraurders, you realized what they had been up to, but from that time on you kind of became one. That first date was succeeded by many others: one near the Black Lake, which had ended with his brother throwing Regulus into the water because he had finally succeeded on his own in asking you out; the next time you had been interrupted on one of your picnics by an emotionally broken James over yet another no from Lily, and all you could do was comfort your poor friend; the next time you had to arrange a double date with Sirius and Remus, so that they, too, could finally declare themselves, which ended with the two of them making out in front of the two of you, and so an endless series of dates destroyed either by you, or by your friends, or by time and external events. It almost seems like fate doesn't want you two to be able to have a normal date.

Even now, you don't know how well you ended up in this place, after your fantastic dinner at one of the best restaurants in London, so full of fog and shadows, which make your shivers amplify down your spine every second, but then you turn around and see him smiling, as in arm's length with you he observes what is around you as if he is not seeing the same things you are.

You have never understood why he is so attracted to cemeteries, to hear him tell it is a magical place of contact between our reality and that of those who are no longer here with us. As romantic as this vision is you can't help but think that in reality it is nothing more than a dank and scary place, but unfortunately you love that boy in an almost embarrassing way and would be willing to do anything for him.

You turn to look at him and are fascinated to see the sight in front of you: Regulus's face is moonlit on this October night, as a gentle breeze caresses his face and moves his pitch-black hair as it falls over his messy forehead; his green eyes scan the world around him, and his lips are half-open, as if he is admiring the greatest experience humanity can have. You cannot control yourself, and the words come out of your mouth before you can think about them.

"Why do you like this place so much?" You ask more moved by curiosity than by other feelings, as you cling to him being cold. He looks at you, and as he wraps his other arm around you to protect you from the bitter cold of the October nights, he replies with a smile on his lips as he looks at you.

"Strange as it may seem, I love walking through cemeteries at night. Everything is so scary, gloomy, and finally you feel really alive." He answers seriously, and you can't help but be struck by his words. "I feel as alive as ever. I feel as alive as when I'm with you, when I kiss you, when I realize every morning as you drink your tea on the terrace watching the sun rise in summer that I love you more than my own life, I feel alive every moment I share with you, and every second I understand step here makes me remember that life is not eternal and that I must enjoy every single second with you fully, because you are my life. As someone more important than me said, "Thou wast all that to me, love, / For which my soul did pine: / A green isle in the sea, love, / A fountain and a shrine / All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, / And all the flowers were mine."" He continues, taking a box from his jacket pocket, without being seen by you.

"Love, I think it's time to stop reading Edgar Allan Poe." You reply laughing, as you lean your forehead against his chest.

He smiles at to spontaneous gesture and rests his chin on your head, before whispering the fateful words in your ear.

"Y/N/N, my dear sweet Y/N/N, would you do something for me?"

"Of course, you know I would do anything for you." You say, still leaning against his chest.

"Would you like to be my wife?" He asks in a whisper that almost sounds like a ghost uttered those words.

You look up and see him smiling, as your mouth opens wide still in disbelief and no words come out of your mouth, while instead the tears just flow. You feel his hand place a velvet box in yours, but you don't care about the ring, immediately wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him passionately in that desolate place.

Maybe it's true, you two have never had a normal date, but you wouldn't change them for anything in the world.

#regulus black #regulus imagine #regulus x reader #regulus black x reader #regulus deserved better #regulus black fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #becky's writing #becky's halloween party

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mediawhorefics · 3 months

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hiii, hope you're fine, was wondering if you have any recommendations for murder mystery books? idealy sapphic

hiiii i've been fine (pretty atrocious actually my entire life is falling apart hence why i haven't been able to maintain this second blog) i'm always here for book recs tho !!!!

this is actually a bit of a tricky one for me because i'm a big mystery fan, but i'm not huge on murder mysteries in general. i do love a challenge tho, so i'll see what i can find for you!

the last binding trilogy (freya marske) -> not quite murder mystery but a historical fantasy series ft. some murders and some mysteries. each book focuses on a queer couple and the second one ft. sapphics trying to solve a magical murder on a cruise ship. its mainly a romance series with a great magical mystery overarching plot. 10/10

i kissed shara wheeler (casey mcquiston) -> again a general mystery rather than a murder mystery but it's a sapphic ya romance about a prom queen disappearing after kissing her academic rival and said academic rival's obsession with finding her.

bury the lede (gaby dune) -> graphic novel about an intern at a newspaper stumbling upon a gruesome crime scene. (full disclosure, i dont remember anything about this one... i read it ages ago rip)

sadie (courtney summers) -> ya mystery novel. after her sister's murder, sadie, disappointed by the official investigation, skips town in pursuit of the murderer and justice for her sibling. meanwhile a radio personality overhears sadie's story at a gas station and becomes obsessed with finding her, starting a podcast to track his progress. not sapphic particularly and tw applies. it's a pretty harrowing book, but keeps you on the edge of your seat. apparently the audiobook is amazing.

big bad wolf series (charlie adhara) -> okay it's mlm and it's technically werewolf porn, but the mysteries in this ex-fbi agent partnered with a werewolf to solve werewolf crimes series are actually good and engaging and keep you on your toes. no one was more surprised than me.

the will darling adventures trilogy (kj charles) -> again mlm and more general mysteries than murder mystery specifically, but it's so good and there is a sapphic side pairing later in the series. it's set in the 1920s... will darling is a wwi vet who just inherited his uncle's second hand's bookshop which lands him in a world of trouble when both a gang of criminal and the war office end up on his doorstep looking for the same information. which he's pretty sure he doesn't have.

hither page (cat sebastian) -> sorry this one is mlm too rip. post wwii. a gruesome murder shocks a small community with a sprinkle of romance between the village's doctor and the spy sent undercover to solve the crime.

here are some books that fit the vibe that are on my to read and i'm excited to pick up, but obvs can't vouch for yet

last night at the telegraph club (malinda lo) -> sapphic love story set in 1950s san francisco chinatown

lavender house (lev a.c. rosen) -> described as knives out with a queer historical twist. set in the 1950s.

even though i knew the end (cl polk) -> historical fantasy murder mystery ft. a sapphic detective trying to catch a notorious serial killer to ensure she can have a future with the woman she loves.

a million to one (adiba jaigirdar) -> girl gang heist on the titanic. historical ya and sapphic.

meddling kids (edgar cantero) -> paranormal/horror/mystery grown up teen detectives reunite to solve a paranormal mystery fro their past. also queer.

the dead and the dark (courtney gould) -> paranormal/horror/mystery/ya/sapphic. logan, daughter of two ghosthunters, is determined to solve the mysteries of snakebite, oregon where weather patterns are odd and teenagers keep disappearing/showing up dead.

alright, i think that's all i can think of for now ??? i'll add to the list if something pops in my head, but hopefully that covers what you were looking for, at least a little? sorry i didn't 100% follow the brief for some of these haha.

#books #book rec #books rec #book recs

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atlasdoe · 2 years

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Marauders fandom I am begging you to start giving Emmeline Vance the attention she deserves

Like she was not only the last women of the original Order of the Phoenix standing but she was also a part of the advance guard and when she died had the Prime Minister talking to the Minister of Magic about how much of a asset to the war she was. Also her death was caused by information Snape gave to the death eaters that Dumbledore gave to him so if you’re into Snape and Dumbledore slander theres another reason to hate them

LIKE HOW ARE YOU SLEEPING ON HER????

“But we don’t know anything about her”

When have we ever known anything about any Marauders characters???

You want a starting point to her? Here are some headcannons to get you started

She was a Ravenclaw in the Marauders year

She was Pansexual

She had two younger brothers and was brought up by her wizard father after her muggle mother left because witchcraft scared her

Her closest friends consisted of Marlene, Lily, Benjy, Pandora, Kingsley and Frank

She was a prefect

She enjoyed Quidditch but wasn’t on the team

She had a summer fling with Lily during the summer before their fifth year

In her sixth year she started seeing Edgar Bones and was with him until 1981 when they broke up because of the war with the intention of getting back together, but Edgar died so they never got to

She met a muggle women in 1988 and married her in 1990. They adopted a daughter together and were together until Emmelines death

She had messy handwriting

She was never a big fan of the Marauders and found them annoying but befriended Remus during the 80s

She loved photography

She loved football

She grew up in Birmingham

During her third year she taught herself how to skateboard

Her patronus was a Robin

THERE NOW CAN WE PLEASE START USING HER IN FANFICTION!! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

also she outlived the majority of yalls faves in cannon. Put some respect to her name.

#emmeline vance #Harry Potter #the marauders #the marauders era #marlene mckinnon #Lily Evans #Benjy Fenwick #pandora lovegood #Frank Longbottom #Remus Lupin #wolfstar #jegulus #starchaser #jily #Edgar Bones

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pearlsoflongago · 4 months

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Quest

Tales From Elsewhere

La Parque et l’ange de la Mort/The Park and the Angel of Death by Gustave Moreau

Eldorado

Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old— This knight so bold— And o’er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength Failed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow— ‘Shadow,’ said he, ‘Where can it be— This land of Eldorado?’

‘Over the Mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride,’ The shade replied, ‘If you seek for Eldorado!’

—Edgar Allen Poe

La Palme by Odilon Redon

Elaine

Oh, come again to Astolat! I will not ask you to be kind. And you may go when you will go, And I will stay behind.

I will not say how dear you are, Or ask you if you hold me dear, Or trouble you with things for you The way I did last year.

So still the orchard, Lancelot, So very still the lake shall be, You could not guess—though you should guess— What is become of me.

So wide shall be the garden-walk, The garden-seat so very wide, You needs must think—if you should think— The lily maid had died.

Save that, a little way away, I’d watch you for a little while, To see you speak, the way you speak, And smile,—if you should smile.

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Boat in the Moonlight by Odilon Redon

Merlin and the Gleam

I. O YOUNG Mariner, You from the haven Under the sea-cliff, You that are watching The grey Magician With eyes of wonder, I am Merlin, And I am dying, I am Merlin Who follow The Gleam. II. Mighty the Wizard Who found me at sunrise Sleeping, and woke me And learn'd me Magic! Great the Master, And sweet the Magic, When over the valley, In early summers, Over the mountain, On human faces, And all around me, Moving to melody, Floated The Gleam. III. Once at the croak of a Raven who crost it, A barbarous people, Blind to the magic, And deaf to the melody, Snarl'd at and cursed me. A demon vext me, The light retreated, The landskip darken'd, The melody deaden'd, The Master whisper'd "Follow The Gleam." IV. Then to the melody, Over a wilderness Gliding, and glancing at Elf of the woodland, Gnome of the cavern, Griffin and Giant, And dancing of Fairies In desolate hollows, And wraiths of the mountain, And rolling of dragons By warble of water, Or cataract music Of falling torrents, Flitted The Gleam. V. Down from the mountain And over the level, And streaming and shining on Silent river, Silvery willow, Pasture and plowland, Horses and oxen, Innocent maidens, Garrulous children, Homestead and harvest, Reaper and gleaner, And rough-ruddy faces Of lowly labour, Slided The Gleam.— VI. Then, with a melody Stronger and statelier, Led me at length To the city and palace Of Arthur the king; Touch'd at the golden Cross of the churches, Flash'd on the Tournament, Flicker'd and bicker'd From helmet to helmet, And last on the forehead Of Arthur the blameless Rested The Gleam. VII. Clouds and darkness Closed upon Camelot; Arthur had vanish'd I knew not whither, The king who loved me, And cannot die; For out of the darkness Silent and slowly The Gleam, that had waned to a wintry glimmer On icy fallow And faded forest, Drew to the valley Named of the shadow, And slowly brightening Out of the glimmer, And slowly moving again to a melody Yearningly tender, Fell on the shadow, No longer a shadow, But clothed with The Gleam. VIII. And broader and brighter The Gleam flying onward, Wed to the melody, Sang thro' the world; And slower and fainter, Old and weary, But eager to follow, I saw, whenever In passing it glanced upon Hamlet or city, That under the Crosses The dead man's garden, The mortal hillock, Would break into blossom; And so to the land's Last limit I came— And can no longer, But die rejoicing, For thro' the Magic Of Him the Mighty, Who taught me in childhood, There on the border Of boundless Ocean, And all but in Heaven Hovers The Gleam. IX. Not of the sunlight, Not of the moonlight, Not of the starlight! O young Mariner, Down to the haven, Call your companions, Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, Follow The Gleam.

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson, from Demeter and Other Poems

The Muses Leaving Their Father Apollo to Go Out & Light the World by Gustave Moreau

#poetry #literature #light academia #dark academia #classic #books & libraries #edgar allan poe #edna st. vincent millay #alfred lord tennyson #gustave moreau #odilon redon

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magnus-sm-writes · 1 month

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My Writing Journey: Early Adulthood!

I could title spring of 2020 “A Spring and a Miss”, because it was. My only high school class, band, was online, and it was honestly a disaster. I ended up skipping most of it to work at Subway (because I am a responsible adult like that). I was used to the online college classes; that was what I started out on.

What I did not expect was how this would impact my writing.

In February, I had rewritten Hamish and gotten some of the “dark academic” vibes I was shooting for. (In reality, it was always meant to be a gothic horror, but I did not know that yet.) I was so excited to write something else in my Shakespeare universe. My choice was Midway Through Summer’s Bullshit, a rewriting of the beloved A Midsummer’s Night Dream.

However, when the world shut down in March, I realized that I was too incredibly lonely writing a book with so much socialization in it. It depressed me. So I switched things up, for my own health. I rewrote Lessons in Humanity as a way to mentally prepare myself for university. It really felt like I was going places with it. I even had my wonderful, amazing friend Alex beta read it for me. (And even drew fan art for me like how fucking sweet are they?)

I was tired of rewrites, though, and I wanted to write something new. Something fresh. So I decided to write something that has both haunted and intrigued me since: Stuck Together.

Stuck Together is my historical fiction crackfic where William Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe a.) live in modern times, b.) are writeblr/writetube/writestagram famous authors, and c.) get stuck together in Edgar’s apartment during the COVID pandemic.

It is a ridiculous novel, which I wholeheartedly acknowledge. I have never rewritten it, and I reread it once a year. I am not kidding when I say I love and hate this stupid novel in equal parts. It is so ridiculous, so utterly stupid, that I am unable to form a coherent thought on it. I cringe when I think of it; I adore it; I want to burn all traces of it from the internet; I want to fix it.

(Someone please give me your thoughts on this because this shit is ridiculous and I love it.)

Then I went to my dream university for Creative Writing. It really was a dream come true; Ohio Northern’s campus is a magical place in the autumn. My professors were all incredible, and I have nothing but praise for ONU’s English department. I’m still in contact with several of my professors four years later!

I was at a weird place, creatively. I wanted to rewrite Jeez Take the Wheel, but things just… weren’t meshing. Nothing was working for me. I wondered if something was wrong. (I also broke my foot, but honestly, that should have given me more time to write.)

This was also the time I discovered I’m trans! It was October of 2020 when Morgan was no more, and Magnus came into being. I’d never felt more like myself than then, even though my writing was still not where I wanted it to be. As I settled into my identity, though, I became more confident in myself, and my writing also began to come easier.

There was also the matter of my senior capstone. You see, with all my community college credits, I was actually in my junior year of university. I had to come up with something to write next year for my Advanced Fiction Writing class (which would be the class I would do my capstone for). It had to be around 20,000 words at most, and a finished story. None of my projects could fit that.

I decided to try a resurrection story. Something about my own transness, identity, and disconnection from the world. I began to brainstorm a story about a man who came back from the dead without his memories and was expected to pick back up where he left off.

This story became Body, my novelette. Body is to me now what Lessons in Humanity was in my teenage years. It is a marker of a huge shift in my writing. I went from someone who turned my nose up at fantasy to someone who was now writing within the realms of fantasy. Technically, Body falls beneath the speculative fiction umbrella. I’d place it in the Weird genre, personally, but it doesn’t really matter. It is more speculative than literary fiction, which was huge for me.

With Body, I was taking a chance to really write something my own. I wrote in second person (my favorite tense ever). It was a braided narrative, weaving past and present together. It was a story about grief, and love, and hope, all at once. It was what I needed. When I think of Body, I think of how much of my soul I poured into it. Body is an incredibly special work to me because of that. It helped me understand myself in a time where I was just starting to be me.

This is going to sound like a sidebar, but it’s not. I promise.

My professor Dr. Pullen kept telling me in her critiques of my stories that it seemed like I was meant to be a fantasy writer, but was holding back. I, being the snob I was, refused to do anything more than give the barest hint of fantasy in anything I wrote. There was no way I was a fantasy writer; I was a man of literary fiction and contemporary settings.

That is, until Dungeons & Dragons changed everything.

My D&D group would meet anywhere from twice to four times a week. I am not kidding; that is how obsessed we were. I was obsessed. My best friend Jenny, our DM, was also obsessed. I joined another D&D group, as well, where I met some really amazing frat guys who accepted me as a man (!!!). I kept making backup characters just in case. Eventually, all these backup characters began to pile up. I needed something to do with them.

I’m stubborn. I can admit this. But I finally, finally decided to start writing fantasy once I finished Body, in part so I could get my character Hiprax’s character arc out of my head.

It quickly snowballed from there.

I also began to get a lot more serious about poetry. I read every single online copy of Warsan Shire’s poems I could get my hands on, consuming her words like I was starving. Poetry was how I dealt with my trauma, and dare I say, I dealt with it well. So well that I actually ended up in Polaris, my university’s literary magazine, with my poem “Mince Meat Pie”. I was elated. I was finally a published author!

Not only that, but Dr. Pullen made us submit work to literary magazines for class. (Other than Polaris, of course, but she encouraged us to submit to it as well.) I was rejected from all others. It wasn’t really the point for me, though; the point was that I did the damn thing. I did what scared me so badly I almost got sick the first time I submitted something. And I was accepted.

I couldn’t even dream of doing this in 2020. It was nuts!

I also took a class on witches (taught by Dr. Pullen, duh), wherein my final project was actually a snippet of a vampire novel involving blood magic that I call Night Bite. The worldbuilding I began in that novel was actually the basis for my fantasy world Uuve.

Once I left university, my writing just kept getting weirder and weirder.

#magnus talks #my writing journey #writers on tumblr #on writing #magnus' golden birthday celebration

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