Laying down the foot work of how Matter works in my imagining, don’t mind me.

"Am I in love with you? Or am I in love with the feeling?"

Later that day...

So Regulus writes poetry, everyone knows that.

HOWEVER!

Few talk about the absolute filth that is his secret erotic poetry.

Sirius one day found his journal and glanced bc of how fucking nosy he is and immediately regretted it.

A Crown of Bone Preview

Pairing: Changeling! Reader x Fae Lord! Zhongli

Imagine being a changeling child and living your life in quiet yearning. 

It is a life of hollow hunger and a longing for something you cannot quite name. 

You had been found in the dead of winter, or so your mother tells you, a half-fey child abandoned in a snowbank. She has told you this story many times before. Sometimes in fond reminiscence, more often in hushed whispers, her eyes fearful and haunted as she recalled your unnatural stillness, the way the snowflakes that landed on your skin did not melt, 

You don’t answer whenever she tells these stories; she is already frightened enough. You do not tell her that while you had been found during winter, your first memories were of spring. 

Except it is not the spring of Snezhnaya, where you had been raised. It is not the cold sun, finally rising after months of not showing its face. Nor is it the first tentative buds of snowdrops, pushing their way up from the melting snow.

The spring you remember is brilliant, bursting with vivid color. You remember walking underneath trees whose leaves were the color of fire, you remember the taste of wine against your tongue. 

And sometimes, in those odd moments between dreaming and waking, you would remember seeing the gold of someone’s eyes and the curve of black, gleaming bone. 

You do not mention this to your mother, who is already half-afraid of you. Nor to your father, who gazes at you with a resigned sort of acceptance. 

Instead, you keep it to yourself, tucked away against the curve of your ribs, right next to your slow-beating heart. A secret that is half-yearning and half-memory: someone had left you there in that snowbank, and there are days that you think that they did not do so willingly. 

Who can I mail my polaroids to

content warning! non-con, past abuse, specific depictions

Shit. I sure do wonder who that character could be. Couldn’t possibly be the pissy blonde bully who acts overtly aggressive straight off the bat, demanding to be taken seriously, to be feared of so no one dares to mess with them. Couldn’t possibly be the delinquent who’s only way to gain some sense of control in this messed up town filled with rapists is to do the same as the others, reenacting their vile acts on PC instead. Couldn’t be Whitney whose uncle/aunt is a sailor, having been associated with them for a long while now, having grown up with them, like a family. We know how sailors are in this game. Rapey, grabby hands groping where they shouldn’t. Couldn’t be the helpless squirms of younger Whitney, unable to do anything as they’re touched all over by older, perverted adults.

Couldn’t be how they actually were passed around like some sort of fuck toy at the docks like it was nothing, just another fish the sailors caught once more. As if Whitney didn’t immediately burst into tears the second they were grabbed for by the other people from the underground brothel. Why so quick to cry, Whitney? Familiar memory seeping making its way into your mind once more? Something you’ve pushed deep down inside yourself, only to resurface at the worst of moments, right in front of your own victim that you utilize to feel some sort of semblance, power and control over yourself? Do those hands all over your body make you remember something? Make you remember what happened? What shouldn’t be uttered among the peers at school, their hungry gazes all over you? The ones that make your skin crawl? Are you sure that you’re really all that untouchable, Whitney?

But, that’d be crazy. I’m just spouting bullshit again.

I could 100% see Casey and Leo kissing and when they pull away Leo unironically says “good golly” and Casey laughs so hard he falls to the floor and his stomach starts to hurt

Am I the only one that doesn’t care no matter how good the fic may be, I can’t read it if it’s no x black reader?

I did warn that my dumb nerd ass had done a thing. And courtesy of @a-magpie-in-gravesfield , it has finally arrived. Won't be able to open the letter itself until later. The journal pages are absolutely excellent. Almost wish I could get the whole journal, watch Philip's descent.

I had a horrid idea

Have I told you I'm thalassophobic

no but also whos gonna stop me

I can't be the only one who dreams abt tfota

...am I annoying?