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shiro-00s · 9 months

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heaven on earth

41. one step closer .. !

[ genshin impact smau / idol!xiao x fem!reader ]

The sky was pretty, especially today. There were a few lanterns that were already up in the sky, illuminating the sky with spots of yellow here and there. The festival had a ton of small festive shops, selling traditional masks, and a few fun games. All leading up to the main attraction. The stage.

Among all the attractive stores, nothing could take away the glory that the stage presents, the kind that catches everyone’s eyes. It stood tall among the festival, a view you could see from any angle, and was included in every selfie taken.

The outdoor concert had a whole area to itself, a space waiting to be filled with loads and loads of people, and you had no doubt that it would be filled to the brim. The stage lights illuminate the large stage in the center of the space, giving the platform a much-needed spotlight. A few speakers that looked like they could destroy an eardrum were placed on the stage along with fog machines.

You nervously handed the staff the ticket gifted by your dear friend, Hutao, who you really wanted to strangle because of the dilemma she put you in, an all-or-nothing. You’d have given them a heads up, telling them to meet up with you but you hadn’t contacted a single soul about you coming to this concert.

Why? You had a huge ego. And you really, really didn’t want anyone to know that you were going to Xiao’s concert.

After the whole fiasco with Xiao-Yujin, the internet was skeptical, rightfully, due to it coming from PAIMON, who was the master at making things up. You were skeptical as well, but you were petty and you didn’t really want to go out of your way to ask him. Well, you’re doing it now.

So, after making up your mind about coming to Xiao’s concert - which took a long time - you reluctantly came to the concert with the words Hutao told you lingering in the back of your mind.

It’s about honoring his lost companions.

When the staff had verified your ticket, you looked around for something to do before the concert started. In an attempt to distract yourself, you found a small store that sold and taught the art of crocheting. Well, it does look cute. Why not?

A lady in her early 40s greeted you kindly, a gentle smile on her face as she showed you around the neat stall. When you seemed a little too puzzled, she asked, “Are there any crocheted flowers you’re looking for, dear?”

You blinked. Oh, that startled you.

You didn’t think the lady was one to talk but it seemed you were wrong. Shaking your head, you replied with a small ‘I’m afraid not.’ and a sheepish grin. The lady hummed at your response, looking around at her flowers before finally asking, “Who are you planning to give it to?”

You inhale, “Do you think I’m going to give it to someone?” Chuckling, your eyes scanned around for a simple flower, or anything pretty really, you didn’t mind. Since the lady was nice, you’d give it a shot, for her sake. You’ll give it to Hutao or Xiangling. Whatever.

The nice lady smiled, looking as if she was feeling some nostalgia before saying, “I’m well aware of the look in your eyes. I had the same one when I was your age, you know? Those longing eyes as if you’re waiting for someone.”

Suddenly you wish you didn’t enter this store or come to this festival.

Relaxing your shoulders and neck, you hunched down a little to stare at the flower that caught your eyes at the bottom of the stall.

“I don’t know. Really.”

The lady beside you crouched down to the same level as you, resting her face on her hand as she smiled a little before pointing at the flowers your eyes laid upon.

“Those are hyacinthus. If we’re talking about Greek mythology, Hyacinth is a divine hero who falls in love with Apollo and chooses him over 3 other beings.” She paused, picking up the hyacinthus and grabbing your wrist gently with her free hand.

“But eventually, he was killed accidentally by Apollo. Then he was resurrected again, by his lover and was gifted with immortality as well.” She let the flowers fall into your hands softly, the three crochet hyacinth flowers laying atop each other.

“That’s why its symbolism is devotion beyond the depths of life and death.”

Over the next thirty minutes, more people arrived at the festival along with the concert. The empty space from before had transformed into a mob of people. If you lose something here, you’re never getting it back. That’s why you held onto the flowers with a tight grip even if you didn’t have plans to give them to anyone. Totally.

Your hands were clammy from having to glance around you every 5 seconds in case one of your friends saw you. To say that you were dreading meeting them was an understatement. You’d dig the floor and bury yourself alive if they saw even a glimpse of you.

Reaching for your phone to look at the clock, the sound of a loud screeching noise reached your ears. The noise of microphone feedback alerted everyone to the beginning of a thrilling performance. The anticipation in the air was visible, and the atmosphere filled with excitement and eagerness of the crowd.

The beam lights lit up one after another from the left to the right, the floodlights following right after. The stage, the one piece of art that held the attention of everyone, was then adorned with shining bright lights. The soft glow highlighted the display of the new presence.

Along the stage stood four well-known individuals, the spotlights captured each artist in their glory, possessing an aura demanding attention. The crowd erupted into applause and gasps, the wildness they’ve been since the start. The presence of each spoke volume, all of which were hard to ignore. Each of them had a headset engraved to the side of their face around the ear and the mic extending to their lips. Their outfits are all unique and well-planned, matching the theme of the festival by adding a little bit of gold and black, which complemented their bodies greatly. Especially, Xiao, you think. You’re caught off-guard when the familiar dark-haired man’s head twisted and turned, almost as if he was looking for something - someone. You felt a little satisfied at the sight, the gears turning in your head even if you’re not too sure.

The soft sound of the instruments started to play in the background almost immediately, catching the audience by surprise. The first voice to speak is a feminine voice. Confusion erupted in the audience as none of the mouths on the stage looked as though they were moving.

That was until a certain figure walked onto the stage. Yunjin was dressed with a black corset above her black crop top that seemed to hug her curves well. Her skirt was adorned with golden trinkets and intricate patterns. On top of her clothing, she wore multiple accessories that matched the outfit significantly with her pastel-colored headband of flowers and a short warm white scarf around her neck.

Other voices joined in soon yet your attention laid still on one specific person, one you’re unable to tear your eyes away from. Even as people around you started to bump lightly into you from swaying to the music, your eyes refused to move from the spot they had settled on. Xiao and his pretty, pretty eyes.

His body moved along with the beats of the song, lips softly opening and closing as he sang with his members. Wearing a dark-colored jacket, his clothing is layered with another white button-up shirt underneath and if you looked very closely, you might just be able to see his abs - okay, enough. The point is, you’ve never appreciated someone as much as you did with the person who arranged Xiao’s outfit because the conclusion is that you had never seen anyone as majestic as Xiao and you didn’t believe you ever will for the rest of your life.

Even his navy slacks looked perfect while he danced to the choreography which you believed was carefully planned, anyone could tell even if they didn’t know anything about dancing. You’re not sure how he moved with those slightly heeled boots or shoes, you don’t know and you don’t care. The question is how he moved so smoothly even with those heavy shoes that you knew you would fall and trip on if you wore them?

When your eyes returned to his golden ones, you noticed the pupils shooting in all directions, searching the VIPS, the front, the reserved, the platinum, the platinum plus - you get the point.

You doubted he would be able to spot you in this… what? Fifty thousand hoards of people? That’s an estimate but it was way too crowded and even though your spot wasn’t too far from the stage, he wouldn’t be able to possibly find you like this, right?

Yea, wrong. Because as soon as your thought process ended, the flash of golden eyes seemed to glance across your own and stopped for more than a second - before seemingly relaxing and tearing his gaze away. Though it was just a moment, everything had started to drown out in the background, going quiet before all you can think about is - Xiao, Xiao, Xiao.

After snapping out of your thoughts, one thing you can confirm after listening to the lyrics and melody was that it was indeed a rather solemn story that had been turned into a song. It matched the description that Hutao told you about. The need to comfort Xiao clawed at the back of your throat. You’d have to hold it back until the concert ended. Wait, what?

No, the plan was to watch and leave. But… ahaha.

The concert seemed to pass like a blur in your memories, your lack of focus only helped in not being aware of your surroundings because - oops, you just bumped into some crazily tall dude with hair longer than half of your body? Those odd professional clothing made him look wild but weirdly cool, but to be real, why did he choose them out of everything to wear to a concert? Multiple layers of different shades of brown and a mix of white or gray in this humid and stifling atmosphere.

He seemed more shocked than you it seems, but you’re sure it’s not your clothes because he was looking straight at your face, not your outfit. The brown-haired ponytailed man opened his mouth to speak to you, which is odd because you didn’t know this man, did you?

“Is your name, [name], by any chance? Which, of course, if it’s not, you’re free to say so.”

Okay. Definitely a stalker or something, run.

In contrast to your light-speed thoughts, your body stood still in its spot, not making any attempt to move. Then, against your better judgment, you muttered, “Yea, who are you?”, accompanied by a raise of your brow and a step back.

At your response, his lips seemed to quirk up, a ghost of a heartwarming smile on his face as he reached a hand out to you.

“I go by Zhongli, may I have a moment with you, [name]?”

On the other hand, the concert had just ended. The fatigue and a thirst for water washed over Xiao quickly as he rushed to grab a bottle before trying to slip away to find… someone.

However, a deep voice reached his ears, “Xiao! Don’t go yet, wait for a while!”

God he wished he could just turn around and punch the smiling ginger head waving at him from across the backstage, he had had enough of Childe and him intervening. A sign came from Xiao before he turned back to Childe, mind racing for an excuse so that he can leave him behind and slip away to find you. Just as Xiao’s lips parted, Childe had taken the initiative.

“Before you say anything, I know where you’re going, who you’re planning to find, what you’re going to do.”

That shut Xiao up even if it wasn’t like Xiao was a particularly talkative person. His brow twitched at the knowledge the older male had, annoyance dripping from his tone as he spoke.

“Okay? Bye then.”

Xiao turned away to walk towards the decreasing crowd, grieving the time that he lost spent with Childe. At his actions, the ginger sighed, long and exasperated. Not having the energy to physically deal with Xiao, he decided to use his words, “Zhongli said he told her to go to the place, that place. You know what I’m talking about.”

Pause.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Xiao believed wholeheartedly he had never felt emotions on this level. Hell, he never really felt any more than annoyance like this. Xiao thinks you’ve been changing him. Little by little, piece by piece, he’ll become an ordinary person going about with his day. Just like how they would’ve wanted.

Shaking away his thoughts, he took small steps towards the area informed by Childe just a moment ago and a while ago through dms when he asked Childe for vacant places with a magnificent view. He didn’t know whether he wanted to run there, reach out for you and just stare at you for a good while or walk slow, slow steps, so that his hopes didn’t get crushed by the possibility that you didn’t listen to Zhongli.

The grass tickled the black shoes that he changed to after the concert due to the initial pair of boots literally being impossible to walk with. The wind is gentle, the view is just as he had described to Childe, ethereal. But, maybe not more than you.

Liyue as a whole could be seen from this spot in the mountains, the warm yellow lights from lanterns illuminating the dark sky and the city, the city he never thought could look this breathtaking. Shivers went down his spine as he continued to look around. The night looked especially pretty tonight.

Just as he thought he wouldn’t be able to find anything prettier on this extraordinary night, an almost silent sound of rustling nearby. When he looked up, sweet amber eyes met your wide ones. An expression of relief fell on his face as his eyes scanned you. Then, he concluded that maybe, he had a special view specifically meant for him. You looked divine.

Wait. What? You guys were friends, he shouldn’t have such thoughts. Do friends think of each other this way? Ugh, his head is spinning.

After a moment, you reached your hand out to gesture at him to take a seat beside you on the green grass. He hesitantly took his spot beside yours, shuffling to make himself comfortable as he admired the view.

Silence took over soon after, both too hesitant and unknowing of what to say, and what not to say. But then again, with this view, on this night, on the top of this little hill, it felt right. It felt right that he knew he couldn’t mess up, this could be an ultimate moment for the two of you. A memory to make.

“[Name], you listened to the song I sang earlier.”

Confusion was etched on your face as you turned your head to face the dark-haired man, blinking rapidly at him before responding with a small nod.

“I wrote it. About the people who were- are special to me.” It’s hard opening up to people. He cringed at the mistake he made with that sentence. Although, he couldn’t really call it a mistake, could he?

“I lived in an orphanage once, along with four other kids who were older than me. That time I was like how I am now, quiet, but they got me to open up in a short time.” Xiao’s slender fingers curled up against the grass, looking solemn as he continued. “Especially the oldest one there, Bosacius.”

Your heart warmed up at his words, brushing your knuckles against his curled-up hand in an attempt to bring comfort to him. You had not heard about his life before, and it hurt to know that he went through hard times. You tilted your head to the side a little, an invitation for him to continue.

He cleared his throat before gazing back at the lanterns slowly rising to reach out to the sky, “They were everything to me, my family. Along with Zhongli, who was the one that helped fund us and visited us a lot. Madame Ping, too. She was our caretaker. Apparently, Zhongli was friends with her, I learned that later on.”

Xiao breathed a long breath before continuing with his talking. You were happy to get to know his found family, but he looked sorrowful as he talked. Maybe something bad happened between them?

“It was the best of times, but good things never last.” This time, his words were muttered, and quieter, as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“Our house. It got caught on fire.” Xiao took a big breath before concluding, “They, uhm, didn’t make it out. Was it some electrical fault? I didn’t bother to remember. I was too shocked to think.” Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to drop a bomb on you like that. You couldn’t muster up a reply to something like that. So instead of a verbal response, you hesitantly uncurled his fisted fingers and laced yours through them, stroking his skin with your palm.

Xiao took your physical touch as a sign of showing your condolences without pitying him. His heart warmed at the thought, heart beating a little faster. “Bosacius carried me from our bedroom to the hallway with the entrance. He was trying to do the same for others, too. But it didn’t work out quite well.” The last words were whispered, his head hunched down to his knees.

You tightened your grip on your laced fingers, bumping his shoulder with yours as you finally mustered up something to say to Xiao - for the first time today. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Tone softening to accommodate the solemn atmosphere and an attempt to say something meaningful to him after he opened up to you. That explains the song, too.

Unexpectedly, Xiao turned to you with a refreshed look on his face, as he - out of nowhere - asked, “Did you enjoy the concert?” Like a lost puppy, his eyes stared into your shocked ones. After a few moments of silence, you decided on the best answer you can come up with.

“Yeah, you were awesome.” From bumping your shoulders to leaning your head slightly on his shoulder, sure it's a big leap. But, you didn’t receive any sort of rejection from the male beside you. On the other hand, his heart rate told you a different story. His usually steady heart rate had turned more erratic, you couldn't blame him either when your own matched his unsteady beats.

"That PAIMON tweet is an exaggeration." Xiao muttered into the silence of the air. At those unexpected words, you laughed wholly, as if you couldn't guess that already. But oh well, his reassurance did sound nice. Xiao was in his own little world, his thoughts consisted of how nice and soothing the sound of your sweet laughter was. A small smile bloomed onto his pretty face, watching you smile back at him with a grin.

A night has never felt more meaningful than it did now, with your head on his shoulder and a cute smile on your face directed at him, Xiao wouldn't have it any other way. And if there's one thing Xiao concluded from today, it was that he was in love with a certain gremlin.

"Oh! Here, I almost forgot." Golden eyes blinked at the crocheted hyacinthus between your fingers, glancing between the flowers and you. Exasperated at his obliviousness, you gestured for him to take them, quirking up a brow.

He suddenly seemed flustered as he shyly took the flowers from your hand, mumbling a "Thank you…?"

A sudden urge to make him more flustered crossed your mind.

"You should search up the meaning of hyacinthus later, by the way."

Xiao gulped before nodding his head slightly, looking back up at the now empty sky. He seemed to only realize now how much time has actually passed.

"Oh, shall we leave?" You mumbled, bringing up your phone from your pocket before looking at the time and collecting your things laying around on the grass. Xiao stood up before you, standing in front of you as he sheepishly reached out his hand to you - for what? The third time today?

You shook your head lightly, laughing slightly before placing your hand on his open ones as he lifted you up.

"What a gentleman."

heaven on earth - 41. one step closer

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synopsis ; 🗝️ — in which you befriend your next door neighbour who, unbeknownst to you, was apart of a soon-to-be one of the most popular bands throughout liyue. you're unable to tell if cupid was helping you or not when things with xiao kept going up and down. will he continue to keep his secret from yours truly?

NOTE — new chapter will be out soon bcs no more written portion for a while (ive said this like 4 times and they never go as planned 🤗🤗) !!@!@! yipee. anyways since he realized his shit its easy here on out 😝😝 rikkyu is not [name] btw her user is just that bcs i got too lazy to give her a proper one mb

TAGLIST#1 [OPEN] — @mikctp @ghostlysyntaxed @kazemiya @nnasv @gojoandelsalovechilde @candy-purple-cyanide @kissingkzuha @zyilas @lunaavity @luminescent-light @mave-in @rizakari @riikyu @kokoscutie @starsxnight @sketcheeee @softlie @izakyun @xiaxilia @the-sweet-madame @rifran @milkwithspiceyicecubes @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @rxkan7 @goodthingimsam @pomeiu @fogturtle @farelady-fate @tzu-scara143 @wonderful-worlds @cianalikesbeans @h3xi2g0n3 @jasxiao2317 @rosaryia

(ask to be added)

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newtonsheffield · 10 months

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“I um… I can’t marry you right now.” DYING. DED. Oh, Anthony - poor guy, constantly being taken out at the knees, in very au in the molly-verse! You don't stand a chance, bb boy - Kate owns you now (and you like it)

Anthony’s heart’s been doing weird thumpy things ever since he sat down beside Kate nearly three hours ago. She smells really nice and her arm keeps swaying against his. And she looks so happy, so excited to be there with who she assumes is her sister. And he doesn’t mean to propose but she dropped one of her little bracelets and without thinking he knelt and held it out to her and then the entire crowd around them starts screaming even more and he heard Ben beside him cackle

“Fuck he really does go for it hey?”

It’s a little awkward, at the end of the concert when he can still taste her lips on his and Hyacinth’s practically asleep on his hip and she clears her throat.

“I’m um… I’m not going to hold you to that drink.”

His eyes widen in surprise, “Oh.”

“No, you’re… look you’re really hot actually, and you brought your siblings to a Taylor Swift concert which was really Cute I just… I’m sorry I kissed you. I just got carried away. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Anthony nodded, “Are you seeing someone?”

“No.” She shrugged. “You just… you were sweet and you picked up my bracelet and I kissed you because the entire crowd thought you were proposing and it felt awkward.”

“Well do you want to see me instead then?”

“I just told you you didn’t have to.”

“And maybe I want to. Did you think of that? Maybe I want to buy you a drink tomorrow and flirt with you somewhere you can actually hear me.”

Kate’s teeth bit into her lip and she held out her hand, “Give me your phone. You’d better call me.”

“I’ll absolutely call you.” Anthony grinned, “Aren’t you my fiancée now?”

“Maybe one day.”

#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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sunshineboiapollo · 2 months

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You said we killed the Gods, that they are dead, but I disagree.

I see them in everything. I feel them around me.

I know Hestia, the first and the last.

I feel Hera in family and Zeus in the storm. I see Posieodon in the seas and the calm waters or running creeks.

I know Hermes is there on the road less traveled or the one we take, the one we know by heart. He's in the goods we purchase for fun or the ones we need to live and stay warm. He's in the dice we roll at the table, the children that play and giggle with laughter.

I see Hephestus in the athimes that lay on our altars. The armor we wear, though symbolic in nature. I see Demeter in the harvest and Persephone in the changing of seasons. I feel Hades in the cemetery where we go to rest and Thanatos in the funeral homes where we honor the dead.

I know Hecate watches over us when we struggle at the crossroads and Nyx in her gentle night holds us while we sleep.

Aphrodite in love that we want to give, in the roses with thorns, in their beauty can hurt. I feel her sting when I get too close, knowing there there. I see Ares in war, all fighting affairs.

I hear Orpheus in poems, in promises made and broken.

I feel Dionysus in the frenzied crowds, singing and cheering in the heat of the moment. I feel him in the exhaustion after a long night out, and in the relief of coming home to rest. I taste him in the wine, feel him in the steady buzz of it working its way through the body. I see him in the vineyards, the ivy that grows along the paths less traveled, overgrown through time. I feel him in madness, in deep contemplation, of life and of death, in blood and rebirth. I feel him in dark times when all feels lost.

I feel Achilles poised with his spear, ready to fight knowing death is near. I see him in rage - in my heart he is dear. I feel him in my emotions, my mourning and passion.

I see Apollo in the Hawks and crows that circle the skies. Feel him in the warmth of the sun. I see him in the healing hands of the herbalists who make our teas and mend our wounds. I see him in the cards pulled one by one, the pause of thought before interpreting their meaning. I smell him I the insence burned in his honor, in the olive oil poured and the bay leaf burned at his altar. I see him in the ruins of the desecrated temples abandoned long ago, lost in time but not forgotten. I hear his wisdom in the art of silence, words unspoken but perfectly understood. In the moment of silence as an archer takes aim of his arrow and the continued silence to watch it hit its mark. I feel him in the rythmic beats of the stereo, in the pounding drums at a concert loud and clear. I feel it in the aftermath when ears are shot, and nothing seems to make it past the awful ringing from loud guitar screams. I see him in the lines before the show, in people gathering and sharing stories, and I see him in the garden with blue and purple hyacinths blanketing the ground, their scent wafting upwards.

I see Hestia in the fires that cook our food. To her, we give thanks, the first and the last.

We might have forgotten the Gods but they are not dead to those who know how to look.

They've answered my prayers and left me signs. Guided me here and gave me a home. Shown me friends and family and given me a teacher who listens and loves. Makes me feel seen and heard, not small, and ignored.

The Gods are not dead. We just forgot how to find them.

#i know ive got spelling errors #i wasnt going to post this but i feel like i should #apollo #deities #dionysus #apollo deity #offering

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sweetbuckybarnes · 4 months

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The Eras Tour: 03. Act I: Lover

Pairings: Colin Bridgerton + Penelope Featherington, Anthony + Kate Bridgerton

Polin Masterlist | Series Masterlist

May 5th, 2023

Once the Bridgerton family plus Penelope, got themselves into Section 113 and prepared.

Penelope looked over at Benedict, who was currently sitting to the left of her. "Can you record the concert for me, please Benedict?" Penelope asks her, handing her fully-charged phone to the second oldest Bridgerton.

"Sure," he tells her, taking her phone from her outstretched hand.

Eloise Bridgerton, who was sitting on the other side of Benedict, looked over at her best friend. "Make sure you get your phone back from him at the end of the night."

Benedict looks over at his little sister and simply thumps her with his thumb and forefinger right between her eyebrows.

Penelope rolled her eyes at the bickering Bridgertons, as did Gregory sitting to her right, Violet and Daphne sitting at the end of the first row of five Bridgertons and Penelope, as Hyacinth sat behind Daphne - followed by Francesca, Colin, Anthony and Kate.

Penelope looked down at Gregory (however, she didn't have to look down too much as he was now up to her shoulder), smiling at the second youngest Bridgerton. "Are you ready for your first concert Greg?"

He was slightly terrified, and he reached his hand over to hold tightly of Penelope's. "l am a little bit scared..."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Penelope cooed, bringing him closer to her side. "You have me, and who knows - maybe by the end of tonight, you might be a Swiftie!"

Whilst the Bridgertons had been talking amongst themselves, the timer had been ticking down.

It's Fearless, (It's been a long time coming), big reputation (It's been a long time coming). And they said Speak Now! (It's been a long time coming), into folklore, (It's been a long time coming), I’m Taylor! And I was born in 1989! (It's been a long time coming), evermore (It's been a long time coming), loving him was Red, (It's been a long time coming but...)

As the Lover House was shown on the big screen, people were walking out a door with the colours of Lover on big upside-down capes. That was the only way Penelope could explain them as they walked along the stage.

"It's been a long time coming but, it's you and me. That's my whole world!" When they lifted the sheets - there she was the one and only Taylor Swift.

Penelope's eyes widened. She looked over her shoulder to look at the eldest Bridgerton. "Anthony, you are my favourite! I know I've already told but it deserved to be said again."

Anthony smiled down at Penelope as she started dancing in the aisle in front.

"She's so happy," Kate looked up at her husband and caught his smile. "You old softie."

The whole school is rolling fake dice. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince, we're so sad, we paint the town blue. Voted most likely to run away with you.

Before Penelope even knew what was going on, the notes from Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince turned into Cruel Summer.

"Fever dream high in the quiet of the night, you know that I caught it. Bad bad boy, shiny toy, with a price. You know that I bought it. Killing me slow, out the window, I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below. Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn't kill you, makes me want you more."

Colin watches from his spot on the row above as Penelope started to sing from the top of her lungs. Dancing in her spot, a large smile on her face.

Francesca looked over at Colin. "What's with your face?"

"Nothing is wrong with my face, thank you very much!"

"Mhmm."

Cruel Summer was followed by The Man and You Need to Calm Down, which Gregory knew both of - the pair sitting in the front row singing as loud as their lungs allowed them.

"Welcome to the Eras Tour!" Taylor announced, then she sang the third single from her seventh studio album of the same name, Lover .

"We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January, and this is our place, we make the rules. And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear, have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years? Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home, you're my, my, my, my. Lover."

When Lover was first released in 2019, there was so much more love and happiness as she sang it, but now she was singing it for her fans.

And the final song was The Archer , which had a chance to send both Penelope and Violet Bridgerton to tears.

"I've been the archer, I've been the prey. Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay? I see right through me, I see right through me. 'Cause they see right through me, they see right through me, they see right through."

And with the final song, Taylor Swift disappeared and she completed Act 1: Lover.

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midwestaesthetics · 3 months

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Hyacinths

Sunday morning goddess

I’m waking to your lantern

Shaped shoulder tattoo, flickering

In the first wisps of dawn

That peek through your Venetian blinds

Sunday morning empress

Your lipstick traces and hickey

Graces are worn like rubies and

Amethyst round my neck, now I’m counting

These precious stones in the mirror for posterity

Your sweet sighs breaking the waves

Of an ever-shallower slumber

Your ribcage’s slow-motion symmetry

In concert with every exhalation

February’s cold is giving goosebumps

To the exposed skin on my back

Your one loose bedsheet

I fasten into a makeshift robe

Until I locate, the clothes I came in

Calico voyeur sashaying through the half

Opened door, figure eights round my frigid toes

Appreciating the touch of warming hands

My newfound friend, she leads me knowingly

To the oak paneled pantry, for its breakfast time

I’m losing myself in the geometric infinity

Etched in the white-blue vinyl of your kitchen floor

Your sweet sighs still permeate my ear’s periphery

Against the dull white noise of your fridge

Draped in thin white linen

And seated at your round table

I’m drawn to purple hyacinths

In the see through gown of a glass vase

A centerpiece on oak stained wood

Suddenly I recall a recent headline, the rodent

Meteorologist is calling for an early spring

Last night felt like the heating of worlds

Stripping away my glacial feeling, now here I am

Nearly naked, basking in a spring thaw

Your ceiling light turned off and your autumn

Colored candles remain unlit and still

Your sweet sighs of slumber in the other room

Play like an Irish air of old, stirring my indifference

Sunday morning is playing with my psyche

I’m only sure about my uncertainty

A few hours from now who can say

If I’ll be reading your poker face

Or if I may never see it again, excluding memories

Sunday morning is arousing my curiosity

For the first time in a long while

Though I’m not prone to your tarot and astrology

But the splendor of your hyacinth

Bouquet nourished by the sun’s incoming tides…

Is playing tricks on me, unsettling me

Maybe you’re annihilating me, maybe you’re liberating me

Before you rise and before I must decide,

As you’re exiting hibernation am I exiting the door?

Or am I staying for awhile at your graceful invitation?

Before we start and before it’s all said and done

Let me at least find my socks…

#poems on tumblr #poetry #short poem #one night stand #hook up culture #poetic #poets on tumblr #indecision #indifference #turmoil #lazy sunday #sunday morning #afterglow #february #self doubt

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sailorrequest · 1 year

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NXX boys as seasons that reminds me of them

Artem Wing: Autumn

pumpkin spice, knitted sweaters, apple picking, rainy days, fireplace, vanilla candles, orchard trees, leaves, hot chocolate, pies, scarves, books, cinnamon, writing

Luke Pearce: Summer

swimming, surfing, collecting seashells, hammocks, bbq parties, walking in the sand with you feet, amusement park, outdoor concerts, fireflies, sandcastle, festivals, fireworks shows

Vyn Richter: Winter

hot cocoa with whipped cream and marshmallows on top, snow angels, gifts, candy canes, sugar cookies, fairy lights, snow mans, igloo house, wine, champagne, skiing, snow ball fights

Marius Von Hagen: Spring

ducks, bunnies, tulips, hyacinth, kites, cloud gazing, nature walk, picnic, bird houses, painting, trees, cherry blossoms, butterflies, gardens, rainy days, daffodils, peonies, four-leaf clovers

#tears of themis luke #tears of themis marius #tears of themis vyn #tears of themis artem #tears of themis headcanons #tears of themis

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89rooms · 4 months

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And I, I always arrive straight at absence.

Odysseus Elytis - 'The Collected Poems;' “The Concert of Hyacinths,”

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ramrage · 9 months

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“here we go ‘round the prickly pear”

CH2 Hyacinth

work rating: T

chapter rating: T

characters: John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley

tags: reincarnation AU, punk/suburban au, so many AUs to come, author has a boner for ts elliot, angst, MCD (not this chap)

ao3 link

CH 1

This was how they spent their summers.

Simon would wait for his piece of shit father to fuck off to some concert before leaving out the front door. He never had to worry about waking up his mum—she took pills that had her sleeping like the dead—and his little brother Tommy knew better than to snitch.

“What’s snitching?” he’d asked when Simon first used the term. Tommy was curious by nature and allowed himself to be that way around everyone but their father. He usually supplied cruelty or violence instead of answers, so Tommy learned to keep quiet. He was a bright kid.

Simon didn’t mind explaining shit to him, thought it was good to prepare his little brother for the world. “Snitching is another word for tattling on someone,” he explained.

“Then why not just say that?”

“Little kids say tattling. Snitching is for grown ups,” was the difference Simon offered, and Tommy seemed to understand. Maybe he did.

“Oh. You wouldn’t actually give me stitches, would you?”

“Nah, never.”

“Okay.”

And that was that. Tommy was usually asleep by the time Simon snuck out, anyway, but might as well prepare for the worst. Because when it was the worst, it really fucking sucked. Sucked in the black eyes and bruises sort of way, and things usually sucked in the Riley household.

That was one reason Simon snuck out as much as he did. He also liked to play the rebel, liked how quiet it was at night, how no one was around to ask shit of him or say shit to him, except for Johnny.

Johnny.

If he was being honest, Johnny was the real reason Simon risked his ass to walk across town just to find himself on a rough, shitty shingled roof.

They gave each other something he didn’t know the word for, but maybe one day he’d learn it was called solace.

The word wasn’t there, but the feeling was, and they still spoke it aloud. In their own ways. Usually it sounded like this:

“I fucking hate this town,” Simon groaned. The lit end of his cigarette crawled toward the filter as he inhaled, paused to rest as he exhaled.

“Fucking sucks,” Johnny agreed.

The general understanding was that everything sucked, but quiet, a whisper along the smoke rested “everything but you.” But it was a dumb thing to say, so they didn’t say it.

Simon liked watching Johnny smoke, thought it looked cool.

This town wasn’t cool. Sitting on the roof of his Soap’s house was cool, though, probably because they weren’t supposed to do it. Even though no one was going to catch them in the middle of the night, but they spoke in low voices to be safe.

“I can’t wait to get out of this shithole,” Simon murmured to the night, and eyes on the storm hanging above the horizon of suburbia, he missed Johnny stiffen. Nonchalantly ignorant to the impending doom.

“Still set on that military bullshit?” Johnny said, nonchalantly ignoring the sky fall down on him, but the tension set in the space between them all the same.

Simon shrugged noncommittally, “Yeah, I guess. What else would I do?”

“Fucking anything else? Fuck, I just. Why fucking just, sell yourself to that fucking machine?” Johnny asked, playing the mouthpiece for the ideologies he thought they both bought into. The one that said fuck Queen and crown. Fuck everything. The one they marked into each other’s chests.

Simon can remember it clear as day.

Autumn of last year, the park in the center of town, daylight shuddering violet in a losing fight against the first night of the weekend. Johnny’s body laid out on a picnic table in a halo of empty bottles and sandwich papers.

Simon dips a sewing needle into a bottle cap full of the ink they stole from their school’s art room, it slides ever so slightly between his pinched fingers when he stabs it into the skin of Johnny’s left pectoral.

Johnny asked for a tattoo but left the design choice up to SImon even though they both knew his drawing skills were as awful as his chicken scratch handwriting.

He still looked surprised when he took in the finished product.

“Simon, the hell is that?” he asked, craning his neck to get a better look.

“It’s someone flipping the bird”

“Fuck, I can see it now,” he conceded, still a little disturbed. “Aw fuck, Simon, that’s pure shite.” It really was, but Simon didn’t find himself feeling too bad about it. It was there now whether Johnny liked it or not, and maybe he did, because all his bitching came through a grin. Anyways, getting a pretty tattoo wasn’t the point.

“Alright, alright, do me now.”

Simon shucked off his shirt and took Johnny’s place on the table when it freed up, feeling something like a patient about to get cut open by a surgeon as he waited for Johnny to wipe the blood and ink from his chest.

Johnny was his best friend, but something about being so exposed made him nervous. Not the pain, not the permanence. He wasn’t used to having his bare skin eyed up like that, studied like a word search.

“You ready?” Johnny asked before placing the first mark.

Simon just nodded, not meeting the eyes that watch his face for recoil when the needle drove home. It stung a little, but nothing too bad. Simon hardly winced. “Not bad.”

Johnny huffed a little laugh and got down to business now he had the go-ahead. “It’ll get worse.”

“Grand.”

It did. The individual pinpricks blurred together into a mass of burning, burning like the hand splayed across his chest. Simon couldn’t see much of the tattoo when he glanced down, only saw Johnny’s tongue poking out from between his lips while he worked. Focused, like this was something to take seriously. Simon looked away, looked at the sun fall away behind the trees, looked at the top of Johnny’s mohawked head but only occasionally. Smelled the smell of hyacinth.

He looked and he breathed, then he closed his eyes. Focused on the how the burning began to throb in time with his heartbeat, breathed in time with it, too.

Eventually Johnny patted his chest.

“All done. Check it out.”

It looked better than the bullshit Simon had done—straighter, sharper lines—Johnny was always the artist of the two of them. But apparently he was also an idiot.

“Oh, fuck off,” Simon laughed, and that almost-proud look on Johnny’s face turned into something else.

“What?”

“Ugh, fucking look,” Simon said, lifting Johnny’s shirt to compare. “See any differences?”

Johnny’s eyes darted from one tattoo to the other, groaning when he finally figured it out. “Aw fuck.”

“Aw fuck is right. You gave me someone holding up their ring finger, you fucking minger.”

And Johnny started cracking up and then so did Simon, but Simon pulled him close to box at his head all the same. “Don’t fucking—stop fucking laughing. This is your fault.”

“I can make em all long and switch the thumb and it’ll just be bigger,” Johnny said between breaths, between his own volley of punches.

“No, Johnny, it’s fucked. Let it stay fucked.” In truth, Simon was okay with it, and he let Johnny go so they could both catch their breath. Two idiots with two idiot tattoos, drawn into their idiot skins by idiot hands. A needle stained with both their bloods.

“Heh.”

“what?”

“It’s flipping the brid.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Johnny didn’t say anything, just flipped Simon the brid.

Simon did it back.

Johnny looked rightfully pissed now, a flip the bird not the brid kind of pissed, and Simon didn’t know how to respond. He had no justification. He also didn’t have any other options, not like Johnny did. Simon didn’t have the marks to go to uni, and even if he did, it was too late to apply at this point.

“You can do apprentice work or something, I don’t know,” Johnny offered, but it wasn’t good enough. Simon would still have to be here , and that wasn’t an option. Especially with Johnny heading off to school by the end of the summer. Simon didn’t want to say any of that, didn’t need to. “Yeah, you could find somewhere by me and crash in my dorm,” he added as if it was a viable option.

Simon scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure your roommate would love that.” He tossed his cigarette butt and watched it roll down the roof’s slope and drop into the gutter. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“So that’s it?” Johnny sneered. He was talking too loud. He was going to wake up his parents. “You’re just going to fuck off and bomb some civilians in the Middle East in the name of some government that doesn’t give a fuck about you? About any of us? Gonna fucking die for them, huh, Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon warned in a whisper.

Johnny didn’t give a shit. “What about Tommy? When the fuck would you even be able to see him?”

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t. His escape plan was selfish, but in a way, so was Johnny’s. Sure, he’d be closer and his absence would be more predictable, but he’d still be fucking gone. Johnny didn’t seem to fucking get that. He didn’t understand what it was like to be truly desperate.

That’s why Johnny looked disgusted as he rose to his feet, why he pointedly looked the other way as he gathered his shit, shoved it roughly into his backpack. “Whatever, Simon. I hope you have the time of your fucking life,” he muttered without a second glance.

Simon didn’t know what to call this feeling. He watched Johnny ease himself off the roof and his chest burned and his eyes burned and so did his hands and so did everything. Maybe Johnny would come around eventually. Maybe he wouldn’t.

A few moments passed and then Simon heard Johnny’s windows slam shut. Fucking idiot.

He lit another cigarette and savored, numbly, the way it made everything feel worse. The night was over. A lone siren blared in the distance and he hoped that it was his dad finally karking it. Probably not, though. He was never lucky like that.

He was nearly done with his cigarette when his phone buzzed, screen glowing a hazy blue-green. The time read 2:50 and below it, a text from Johnny:

get off my fucking roof

His cigarette end, still lit, landed in Mrs. MacTavish’s hyacinths.

The sky opened up as he walked back, crashing with thunder, but his feet led him forward at the same lazy pace. He didn’t mind the rain and never really did. Simon’s father hadn’t died and was waiting for him when he made it back home. Tommy woke with the sound.

#prickly pear #mine #my writing #soap mctavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost

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catnip-reed · 1 year

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Apollon: The Patron of Light

Apollon is the God of prophecy and oracles, light, music, the arts, song and poetry, archery, healing and medicine, plague and disease, protection of the young, boys, sudden death, knowledge, herds and flocks, and protector of fugitives.

He has many symbols:

• Lyres

• Laurel and laurel wreaths

• Bows and arrows

• Larkspur

• Cypress

• Apple trees

• Palm trees

• Hyacinth

• Swans

• Ravens

• Tortoises

• Serpents

• Wolves

• Dolphins

• Mice

There are many things that are appropriate to offer to Him/put on His altar:

• Amber, citrine, peridot, sunstone, sapphire, carnelian

• Frankincense, myrrh, cypress, clove, cinnamon, and bay incense

• Anything gold, yellow, orange, sliver, blue, or white

• Wines (especially red)

• Olive oil

• Honey and honeycakes

• Herbal teas and coffee

• Almonds

• Citruses

• Cinnamon, bay leaves, anise

• Hand-made things and crafts

• Drawing, poetry, music, etc.

• Divination objects

• Feathers

• Medical supplies (bandaids, gauze, pain meds, etc.)

• Learning first aid

• Going to a concert/comedy night/poetry reading show/art museum

• Learn divination

• Learn an instrument

• Try archery

• Support LGBTQ+ shelters/organizations/people

• Donate to medical homes/charities/workers

#lord apollon #apollon #apollo #helpol #hellenism #hellenic worship #information #zeke speaks religion

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fcllederage · 9 months

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@sinbyeol liked this post for a short starter

"You didn't tell me it was a concert!" the tall queen exclaimed, following Jiwoon in the audience as he made his way closer to the stage. Well, there she was. Her very first concert. Quite intimidating, even for Hyacinthe who was used to parties, to blasting music, but this was something else. "Do you know them?"

#we might be dead by tomorrow ⋈ interactions #on va brûler le feu (main) ⋈ verse #sinbyeol #// cin has never been to a concert in her life so take care of her pls u.u

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nabinthegardnn · 2 years

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this kind of ending -이런 엔딩

synopsis: reliving the breakup with Yoshi through a letter and all of the memories.

tw:// su*ic*de, smoking, death

song inspo: ending scene - IU

To Yoshi.

My only defense was to write out every word you said. I'm reminded of the you I recorded in my diaries and suddenly all the prettiest words, sceneries, songs, and smells flood into my mind. I’m reminded of sunlight filtering through open windows, of moonlight spilling onto high ceilings. I’m reminded of childish peachy daydreams atop fluffy clouds, of blazing nighttime and riding the high of neon lights. Places I’ve been and things I’ve seen gradually rush into my mind to the point that I’m overwhelmed by sensation. There’s so much that you remind me of, and so much that reminds me of you.

"That tickles," he laughs as you smear bubbly cleanser on his face.

"Hold still or I'll get cleanser in your mouth," you threaten him jokingly, and he scrunches his nose at you in childish spite.

Your matching bunny headbands still hung next to the medicine cabinet where they'd always been; you didn't have the heart to move them yet.

Then there were the things you left behind. The things that WERE you, not just the you I saw you as. And memories unlock like music from my musical jewelry box, the nostalgia of it all engulfs me. Your t-shirts, the one that we bought together at the rock concert of your favorite band, smelling like heat and adrenaline, like passion and hearts set ablaze. Like youth and intensity and captivating whirlwinds of emotional wreck and repair. Your refurbished polaroid, a holding snapshots of our glorious moments, yet its strap worn-out and tarnished like us.

"What are you doing Yosh?"

He peeks his head out from behind the giant white easel. "Painting you." He answers simply, as if it's the most natural thing to do.

You rise from your spot in front of his easel and shuffle to inspect his work. Left in awe at what you see, he's drawn you frozen in time; a smiling expression displayed on your face, eyes shining with some profound emotion- love.

"Yosh! You've really outdone yourself! I look more beautiful than I've ever seen myself!"

He takes his eyes away from his painting. "No, I just painted you. Art."

That painting of you used to hang on the living room bookshelf, but you've stored it away from prying eyes in the secluded darkness of your closet- behind layers of thick winter jackets, hidden behind summer blouses and spring skirts. Sometimes you grab a jacket a bit too quickly in haste, and your shimmering eyes glance back at you with an emotion no longer called love, but longing. It's an occurrence that happens quite often, but you could never forget the way your heart stings with a certain sharpness every time.

My favorite thing to do then was to watch how starlight sparkles and shimmers in your eyes. Like two infinite pools I’m sure I could drown in. Wondrous eyes who have seen and remembered, windows into effervescent stories of eternity and forever. Your eyes tell. Of happy, exuberant moments that make me want to chase the sunset and its radiant golden, fuschia streaks- as well as all of those sad memories that leave you sobbing on the bathroom floor. Eyes that have loved and lost, and….. have captured a reflection of me.

You two walk hand in hand across rows of marble and flowers. It's incredibly peaceful and harmonious, and you realize why people choose here to be their final resting places. You follow him as he stops by one that you feel seems vaguely familiar, even though you had never been here in your life. Yoshi removes the wilted flowers placed in a vase, sweeping away the scattered petals and refills them with a bouquet of fresh hyacinths. You watch your boyfriend silently as he pays his respects to his late father.

After a moment, Yoshi returns to his place beside you, intertwining your hands again, this time tighter than he had ever held then in a plea of desperation. 'don't leave me.' He was trying to say. It is then your eyes flicker to meet his and you are taken aback, contrasting to his lively self, now filled with sadness, yearning, and misplaced love that had become grief for his father. You so easily mirror his pain, pulling him into a close embrace as he burst into sobs on your shoulder.

It had been a while since you lasted visited, and the first time you are here alone. You find your place in front of Yoshi's father's grave, bowing in respect silently. Flickering your eyes downward you freeze- recognizing the familiar branches of purple. You almost reach out to replace them with the flowers you had brought, but deciding otherwise after a moment’s hesitation. You set down the simple arrangement of white roses beside it instead.

‘There you go, making up lies again.’ That’s what they told me. But it's true- I cannot tell or even begin to explain in words, no written character in this world or the next could be enough to tell the things I haven’t lived. I lack wisdom and visionary eyes. I see a kaleidoscope of swallowed moons and infinite suns and water swirling at our feet and wind running through our hair that swallows me whole. And day by day the night stretches its indigo curtain over our heads, slowly but surely dissolving into brilliant crimson daybreak.

"Come here, y/n!" He shouts to you excitedly, arms motioning you to his side amongst the fields of gold. You smile at him widely, running into his embrace instantly, finding solace within him. He catches you softly, but the force of your run knocks him off-balance, and you topple over, falling to the floor with a thud. You'd closed your eyes, anticipating the fall but the feeling of hitting ground never comes. Peeling your eyes open, you notice with burning cheeks that Yoshi was hovering over you, one hand tucked behind your head and other perched at your side. Beaming at him, you pull him closer from the nape of his neck, making your lips meet in a kiss. It was a moment you’d remember forever.

You were flipping through your diary, when a loose polaroid slips out of one of the pages. Upon closer examination; the image pulls at a deep heartstring- the streaks of gold rippling eternally behind two figures. You are looking at yourself beaming into the camera as Yoshi gazes ever so affectionately at you, and all the memories trickle back like gilded sand. So much emotion in so little time overwhelms you, so much that you begin to cry, wetting the written ink of your past with your tears until the words began to bleed.

Suddenly I'm brought back into reality but my heart still aches. I want to go back. To melting in your arms like melted lemon sherbet ice cream on the kitchen counter, to smelling your scent, to tasting your lips. To feeling like nothing mattered because you were by my side. To know that someone in this world loved me the exact same way I loved them back. I remember you so well because it’s you that I miss. Out of this giant enigma of blue planetary mass and through all of the people I have loved and lost it is you and all of the memories that matter most to me.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Yoshi said through his tears as the rain drenched through his shirt.

“Why?”

“Because I’m in love with someone else.” He’d said the real words in his heart. Yours clenches in pain, eyes blurry with moist warmth and the emotions make you drown, falling to the wet ground with a thud, abandoning the umbrella in your grip, letting it go with the current of the winds.

“Yoshinori, you’re throwing away eight years; eight YEARS of us for someone you met three months ago? Really? Is that all that I mean to you? Is that all we mean to you?” you snap at him, choking on your words through the tears that won’t stop flowing.

“I don’t feel the same anymore. I’m sorry,” and he turns, disappearing into the misty metropolis, blending into the crowds of passerby and the rhythm of the pouring rain- seeming so painfully empty in the moment. The water is drenching, soaking, drowning; heaviness like your broken heart.

You’re walking silently down the streets, lights smothered blurry by wetness, sounds muffled by the current. You breathe out a weak sigh, chills rising up your arms, the sweater around your arms not doing much to keep you warm. As the rain gets heavier, you pick up the pace hastily, mentally cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella. You used to love the rain. The peaceful tinkle, the gentle breeze that grazes your forearms. Now the rain only brings back the washed up memories of your past. Not wanting to hurt, you rush home quickly to shut out the rhythmic beating of the painful familiarity.

Do you remember our days? Memories that slip and gather through cracks of sidewalks. The days that linger in my mind constantly but disperse quickly like fluttering butterflies. Tinkling showers of petals and morning dew, the crisp cool afternoons as we danced under the autumn moonlight, lacelike saffron foliage swept up by the wind. Drinking in your blurred face as the snow fell, sounds drowning out quiet conversations, my table lamp as our only light. You were all of my seasons and I picked you as my favorite weather. Clothes wet but hearts on fire, beating in sync as we kissed in the rain. You, all of you, are drawn in my heart.

Sitting alone somberly on your bathroom tile floor; the moonlight casting a sapphire glow on you and illuminating the space. You pull a lighter out from your bag, stuffed in an almost empty cigarette box and flick it open. It takes a moment to warm up but it begins sparking in anticipation for destruction and utter ruin. Grabbing a random polaroid from the pile strewn before you, not an ounce of hesitation crosses your mind as you start setting its corner ablaze. Watching emotionlessly as the girl in a white dress embracing the blonde-haired boy become engulfed by the flames until all that is left is ruined film and ashes. It gives you a sense of comfort and closure, something you crave, something you have become addicted to.

On Friday night I will pack my bags and begin my escape. These days it feels like all the people in the world are in deep sleep, brushing past me in a state of dreamlike indifference and ignorance. These days I often find myself left alone in my own corner, drifting into dreamless sleep. These days I see how all of the colors have faded into bleak hues of gray and heathen. Then the today that has passed, I find myself the only one awake because I couldn’t let go, couldn’t move on. These days it feels that turning time trickles deeper into the darkness of night and the sunlight only escapes my windowsill farther. And I will escape, back into my very mind and rediscovering the moments and memories that were us.

You meet him for the first time since the ending in a coffee shop by the university. Spotting him from the entrance, you are quick to act nonchalant and merely survey him from the corner of your eyes. He’s different now, taller and hair dyed red but you would be lying if you said he did not look just as handsome, maybe even more than you remember. You do not notice you are staring until you notice his familiar golden orbs peering back at you with the same curiosity and nostalgia you are showing him. Embarrassed, you tear your eyes away from him, disappearing behind the lines of people and making your way out of the building- but not before your hear him call your name, the voice still echoing in your mind long after you’ve disappeared down the street.

My quiet eyes. Not nearly as captivating as yours, but still holding history, and so, so many memories of our breathtaking, miraculous love. I fell asleep tonight with the thought of our history on my mind. Perhaps I will awaken and realize that all of this is a dream, a disillusioned reality so easily washed away like letters drawn on sand. A story you and I weren’t able to finish but already washed-up and worn-out like the erasers on all those chewed-on pencils.

It was exceptionally warm for an April night. You chose to wear your favorite white dress, the one he had said looked angelic on you. The stars twinkled so monotonously, so peacefully you wondered if that was where you were headed. Standing atop the highest rung of the bridge, there was absolutely nothing that rushed through your mind but anticipation for the peace, the salvation that was to follow. Too many people had held your heart hostage, taken it with force and left you with broken pieces. And that one final person whom you’ve given your all to- had left you just the same. You were tired, so, so tired.

Looking down there was only miles and miles of river, and you wondered what kind of ripple you could make. Looking out and there was only the skyscrapers, so enigmatic from close-up but so small in proportion. You knew this was stupid, but this was the only escape.‘I’m sorry to those who have loved me. And you, Yoshi, whom I loved most fiercely and most effervescently,’ a lone tear of relief trickles down your cheek and you smile at its warmth, wiping it away with your sleeve. It’s time.

You took in one last inhale, and jumped.

Perhaps tomorrow will be the day I forget stunning you and all the broken promises you made me. Perhaps I will awake with the same stuffy heart and lost eyes I fell asleep with. And these, the words in my heart, will all just become an ancient letter about someone that was once my everything.

I think it all will disappear.

love(d), y/n

#kanemoto yoshinori #treasure imagines #treasure angst #treasure x reader #treasure #treasure yoshi

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saraminia · 1 year

Note

Five things I'd put in a pentagram to summon you:

Harry Styles concert tickets

The Hunger Games dvd

Noah Reid CD (do we still do dvds and cds? I don't know lol)

Photo of Olivia Wilde

A bunch of spring flowers. Daffodils, tulips maybe hyacinths

❤️❤️❤️

The photo stumped me because I know you like her but I know there is a singer you really like but I can't remember her name

I wasn't sure if we could use living things or things that we couldn't realistically use. If I could l would've just stuck Noah in there 🩶

This is perfect! ❤️ You have successfully summoned me, my dear friend! (Although I would come anyway if you called me💛)

I've been thinking about which singer you mean, but I'm not sure. Could it be Kehlani? That's my girl, my wife, my dream woman. Or Victoria Monét? Who else have I talked about... SZA? Anyway, I'll gladly take Olivia Wilde. She's gorgeous, talented and pretty cool.

And you're so right about just putting Noah in there. 😍😍😍 That would be a surefire way of getting me there lol. (At least in this hypothetical fictitious situation. In reality I would run the other way if I saw any celebrity anywhere 😂)

I guess technically we would be allowed to use living things in this game. I just thought it would make it too easy. The choices would've been so obvious.

This was fun! Thanks for playing with me, love! 💜

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fitrahgolden · 11 months

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There's A World You Need To Know: 3 - Hum you a song about nothing at all

Two weeks. Anthony hadn’t been at his mum’s during Kate’s sessions with his siblings in two weeks. It shouldn’t have felt like some sort of feat of strength, but he felt like giving himself a pat on the back for it. He hadn’t asked Simon any personal questions about her when he found out the two had become close friends after Simon left Oxford and his mum moved across the street from Kate’s mum. The circle around Anthony and Kate felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and he had to fight to avoid getting pulled further into her orbit.

Regardless, Anthony did eventually find himself working in his father’s old study one afternoon when he knew Kate was somewhere in the house with Gregory and Hyacinth. But there was nothing to do with that information. Nothing at all. But I should really take a break from all this sitting and stretch my legs, no?

He wasn’t looking for them. That would be ridiculous. And rude. And…illegal? They were in a therapy session. Privacy, and all that. He was just walking up and down the halls of his childhood home. Was that a crime? Strolling leisurely, really. Aimlessly. Without aim. No ulterior–

“...sunshine when she’s gone. It’s not warm when she’s away. Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone, and she’s always gone too long anytime she goes away. I wonder…”

Anthony found himself leaning against the wall opposite the door from which the voice was emanating, along with a guitar strumming. It had to be Kate, though her singing voice was a lot higher than he would have guessed. It was light and airy, while her speaking voice was more solid and warm. Both were quite comforting. Quite–

“Anthony!” Violet approached him, speaking in what he was sure she thought was a whisper. He quickly met her halfway to avoid talking directly in front of the door.

“You can’t eavesdrop on their sessions! My God, do I really have to tell you that? Dear, for some unfathomable reason, you may not trust Kate–”

“I trust her!” Both Anthony and his mum were surprised by his vehement rebuttal.

Violet stared at him, confused. “Anthony, what–”

“I was just taking a break from work. I need to get back.” He walked past her briskly, leaving Violet to look between her son’s retreating back and the door.

—

“...and then she let us play drums while she sang. She plays guitar! She set everything up so we could record it. She talked to us about how singing and writing poetry could help us relax when we are feeling overwhelmed. She asked us each to write about something we think about a lot for next week. She said we don’t have to sing it, but I think I want to try. I want to sing like her.”

“Dearest,” Violent interrupted Hyacinth’s enthusiastic review of the day’s session with Kate. “You know you don’t have to tell us anything that you talk about with Kate, right? It’s private time for you and Greggy.”

“Oh, we know.” Gregory chimed in. “Kate tells us that all the time. But she also said we can talk about it if we want to. She won’t talk about it, though. It’s up to us.” He and Hyacinth shared a look.

Anthony could tell his siblings felt empowered, having a thing that was just for them, that they were in charge of inviting other people into or not. Thank you, Kate.

“She’s taking us to a fancy concert in London!”

“Hy, must you shout everything?” Francesca asked in a small but unmistakably annoyed voice.

“My baby siblings are going out with Kate Sharma. Life is bitterly unfair.” Eloise cut aggressively into her steak.

“Mum said we could go.” Greg said defensively. “Kate said we are gonna talk about how the music made us feel on the drive back, but I don’t mind.”

“Me, neither!”

“Hy!”

“Let her be excited, Frankie.” Violet cut in. “They won’t be seeing Kate for a little while, so she wanted to do something special for them.”

“What?” Anthony didn’t realize this was the first time he’d spoken since they all sat down to dinner until everyone turned to look at him. “I mean–For them,” he gestured awkwardly at Gregory and Hyacinth. “I just mean, I know you are enjoying your appointments with Kate and… Why isn’t she visiting–or, um seeing you two for–you said a while?”

“What is wrong with you?” Eloise asked, clearly entertained.

Anthony rolled his eyes and thanked the powers that be that Benedict and Colin weren’t there. He’d never hear the end of it.

His mother kindly explained. “Kate is taking a brief leave of absence from her clients. She’s painting a mural–”

“In Ireland!” Hyacinth exclaimed.

“Yes, Dear. She’s going to Cork.”

“She said it’s a big mural so it could be up to 3 weeks.” Gregory added.

Hyacinth could not be stopped. “She’s going with her photographer. Guys. She has her own photographer–”

“Tom? She’s going with Tom?” Reign it the fuck in, Anthony. Jesus.

“I don’t, um, I don’t know his name.” Hyacinth said.

“This is why you don’t deserve her.” Eloise rolled her eyes and sat back with her glass of wine. “Yes, his name is Tom. Seriously, has no one here even looked at the cover of her book? How do you know his name, Anthony? I thought you didn’t even like Kate.”

“I do– I know Tom. From–”

“Oxford,” all of his siblings said in unison.

—

The following Friday, Anthony was lounging in the main sitting room when Gregory and Hyacinth entered, quite excited.

Anthony sat up. “Well, don’t you two look quite smart.”

Hyacinth beamed.

“Do you think Kate will like this cardigan?” Gregory fiddled with the buttons.

Anthony nodded. “Yes, Greg, I think it’s fine.”

“Just fine?” Gregory winced and turned to Hyacinth. “Do I have time to change?”

“No, Greg, she’s almost here. And you can’t impress her. You’re a little boy.”

“I am not!”

On cue, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Gregory bolted down the hallway, Hyacinth following.

“Not fair! I can’t run in these little heels!”

Anthony got up and headed to the door as well. It would be rude not to. Gregory opened the door and his mouth dropped.

“Hey, Greggy! How dashing you look.” Kate entered. “Hyacinth! Lovely dress. And did you do your makeup yourself?”

“I did!” Hyacinth preened.

Looked over to Anthony, a bit surprised to find him there. “Oh. Hi, Anthony.”

Anthony lost his words as soon as Kate entered the foyer. Until now, he had only seen her in casual clothes. T-shirts, jumpers, trainers. This version of Kate was entirely different. She wore a pink mini dress and strappy stilettos. Different, but the essence–the confidence, the warmth–was the same.

“Kate, you are a vision!”

It wasn’t until Violet walked past him did Anthony realize he hadn’t responded to Kate’s greeting and Kate was giving him an odd look before turning her attention to Violet.

“Thank you. I wanted to clean up nice for these guys.” She pulled Gregory and Hyacinth into a hug. “We should get going. It’s a long drive and who knows what traffic will be like once we get into London.”

Kate ushered the kids outside before turning back to Violet. “Thanks so much for letting me do this. I think it will be very good for them.”

Violet clasped Kate’s hands. “You have been very good for them. They will miss you.”

“We will.” Anthony said quietly to himself. If Kate or Violet heard, they didn’t show it.

“Well, I will keep you updated on my schedule. And I’ll let you know when we are headed back from London tonight.”

Violet nodded with a smile and a “good night” and made her way back down the hall. Anthony watched her go and when he turned back towards the door, Kate was still standing there. Why is she still standing there?

Anthony raised his eyebrows in question.

“Are you alright?” Kate asked, so softly, so warmly, something inside of Anthony suddenly ached.

“Yes, of course.”

“Bullocks.”

“What?”

Kate said nothing, but her gaze was penetrating. He looked down at the floor to escape it.

“OK, Anthony. Not my place. Good night.”

Anthony’s head shot up as Kate was disappearing out the door.

“Uh, good night!”

—

Anthony could have stayed at his mum’s until Kate dropped the kids off. It wouldn’t have been out of character for him at all to want to see for himself that his siblings made it home safely. But he went home shortly after the odd exchange with Kate. For one, he completely trusted her with Gregory and Hyacinth and knew Violet would let him know if anything was amiss. Secondly, if he was being honest with himself, he was sort of scared of seeing her again that night. She looked right through him and it was unnerving.

Thinking about it the next day still gave him chills. By that night, he was looking at Kate’s number on his phone screen as he lay in bed. Kate had few enough clients that she could give them her personal number. With Kate’s permission, Violet shared it with Anthony. Although they seemed to be at an impasse when it came to Anthony’s role as a parent to the kids, it made sense for him to have their therapist’s number regardless.

Don’t text her. What reason do you have to text her–besides to be creepy, of course?

Hi, Kate. I hope your flight goes OK. Please let us know when you’ve landed safely.

This is Anthony Bridgerton, by the way. Anthony stared in horror as Read appeared underneath his messages and promptly threw his phone across the room before forcing himself into a fitful sleep.

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