#had to thought about a poem and all for that ending | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taranida · 3 days

Text

What exactly happened in the 70’s

I’ll start with The Poet and The Muse. I’ve written about the real Thomas Zane being a poet already, but left out this piece of evidence (not at all on purpose, truth be told), but I want to discuss it here, since it goes well with the point I want to make.

In the song we learn the story of a Poet living happily with his Muse and telling her stories about treasures beneath the waves. Then one morning the Muse goes to the lake and drowns. The Poet at some point realises that something happened and comes to the lake, calling for the Muse, but to no avail. Whole day spent in search, and in his desperation, he swears to bring his love back. He writes a story and succeeds to some degree. The husk of the Muse comes to him in the night, possessed by some dark force. The Poet takes her in, but in trying to fix his mistake, vows them both to silence beneath the lake. The story concluded with the peculiar:

Now if its real or just a dream One mystery remains For it is said on moonless nights They may still haunt this place

Now, what exactly the boys of the Old Gods of Asgard are hinting at here (aside from the existence of the Dark and Bright Presences) I can’t tell for sure: they might just toy with all those who have that buzzing question of “who wrote whom”, but I will treat the story of Thomas Zane the Poet as a true story, that happened without any help of tortured writers. Although I will use the manuscripts as well as every other source of information.

Prepare for a long read, since firstly, I would like to present all the bits and pieces that I’ve managed to collect, and then tie them all up in a version of events, I believe, happened in July 1970.

First, the dialogs.

Tor and Odin (whom I cannot stop lovingly call “the boys”) say this:

“Tom’s just lost, is all. Baba Yaga got to him too, the damn witch!” “She used us all, taken from all of us. Took my thunder, the witch.” “And my ravens, what was...what were they? Memory and Thought! The hag.” “She took something from you too, didn’t she? That’s what she does.” “Oh, we’re better off. This place, the lake, it gives you power. If you’re a creator.... An artist, a god!” “Nightmares shifted in their sleep in the darkness of the lake...” “Heh heh, yeah, that’s the one. She makes sure it comes out twisted and wrong. Just ask the Lamp Lady. She knows what happened to that other writer.”

Cynthia Weaver tells us:

“I knew them both. Tom and Barbara. I had such a crush on him...such a beautiful man. I was jealous. There was a part of me that was maybe a little glad when she had the accident. And then Tom started writing and woke the darkness up.... He tried to bring her back...but you can’t do that. There are no free rides like that.” […] “The witch looked like her, but it wasn’t. Barbara was sweet. He didn’t understand until it was too late. He tried to undo it, wrote himself, her, everything he’d ever written out of the world.”

We have Samantha’s dream in “This House of Dreams”, that gives us even more details:

“The diver told me that a dark presence had taken over his girlfriend (the woman in the photos). He’d tried everything he could think of to banish it from her, but everything had failed. In the end, he finally understood what he had to do, finally understood the true nature of the dark place that was hidden under the waves of the lake where they lived. The lake was an opening to dark place that was much bigger than the lake itself, in fact, much bigger than the whole universe we live in. He wrote one last poem, his masterpiece, a secret poem, a hidden poem, a poem that’s not among the poems I’ve found in the shoebox. And he took his girlfriend for one last dive. Together they sank down into the depths, far deeper than he had ever dived before.”

Then we have the manuscripts, that expand on the story:

More so, we have the dates and newspaper articles:

The last one is cut awkwardly, but, really, all I needed from it are the dates of publishing and of the seismic activity.

So, what really happened during this week? On the morning of 10th July Barbara went for a swim and drowned. As Cynthia notes in her article, Barbara was quite a swimmer and her death does seem odd. At the same time, we have another article (that I will put in the very end for those who are curious) about a writer visiting the area and encountering Taken — Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton dated 6th July 1970. Thomas even makes a snarky remark about not ever hearing about him and calling him “an uninvited guest”. All hints that with all the artists in the area: the boys of Old Gods of Asgard, Thomas Zane, Cynthia Weaver and Barbara Jagger, the Dark Presence still pounces on every other creator unfortunate enough to choose Bright Falls as a place to visit. Might’ve been because it could not make the gang mentioned above do its bidding?

The Dark Presence might be of a very different mind, alien to humans, but it’s cunning. As stated in one of the manuscripts, when it senses Alan, “all he'd need was a little incentive.” For Alan it had to drag Alice to the pier and into the lake; for Thomas it might’ve used the help of its ravens or some other means necessary to overwhelm Barbara long enough for her to drown, as at the time the Dark Presence had no physical body (but there might’ve been some other Taken swimmer around). And after Thomas spent the whole day searching for his lover, succumbing to desperation more and more, he got that incentive, the Dark Presence needed.

In the night Thomas wrote a poem to bring Jagger back. The Dark Presence plan worked and it was now in the world, almost free, wearing Barbara’s skin. But it was still constrained by the story Thomas wrote, and in his story he surely wrote something along the lines of them being together and in love again, therefore we see that the Dark Presence cannot do anything to Thomas as he ties it to the chair, carves its heart out and writes countless pieces to undo his mistake. It just couldn’t get out of the role of the loving Barbara, who would never hurt Zane. It had to go through the story in which, probably, Thomas and Barbara lived happily ever after and died on the same day, to be completely free. Which doesn’t mean that the very, pardon, presence of the Dark Presence in the world was not affecting Bright Falls at the time, the Taken might’ve been multiplying and awful things happening during this week. Yet, unlike Alan, Thomas didn’t go into the woods, fighting for his life, he searched for a solution at the cabin, armed with his typewriter and the (kitchen) knife.

The only solution he found in the end — one last dive. To bring this darkness back to where it came from.

There are still a few mysteries left:

in the guide for the first game we can read excerpts from the book “Taken by the Dark Presence” found in a shoebox that has no author, but has initials of T.Z. and J.Z. on some pages, apparently written in the late 1960’s. And, oh boy, I have lots of questions for this one!

the Bird Leg Cabin and the Diver’s Isle, that might or might not been retroactively removed by the eruption under the Cauldron Lake.

the extent of Thomas’ writing powers, since as much as it is stressed a lot that he wrote himself out of reality, Barry, with a little research, is still able to find out about his existence, yet Alan in one of the “Writer in the Cabin” TV’s claims “A story is a beast with a life of its own. You can create it, shape it, but as the story grows, it starts wanting things of its own. Change one thing, and you set off a chain reaction of events that spreads through the whole thing.” The chain reaction here never happens: we have hard evidence that both Thomas and Barbara existed.

But those are theories for another day. This is already a long enough read to throw those into the mix.

And here’s the article about Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton (spoiler alert: there is another one, confirming that he died):

#alan wake 2 #alan wake #thomas zane #alan wake ii #alan wake remastered #remedy entertainment #remedy connected universe #remedy games #RCU theory #alan wake game #tom zane

54 notes · View notes

rangertessadarling · 2 days

Text

I've mentioned this headcanon before, but Will absolutely wrote poetry. A lot of poetry. It started as a coping mechanism, he just really enjoyed putting any dark thoughts or feelings of his in a literary way that made it beautiful. After a while, though he just wrote because he loved writing, he loved the fulfillment it gave him when he turned a depressing thought or a traumatizing experience into a beautiful cadence. Sometimes he would put a melody to it and play them on the mandola for Alyss, love poems, dark poems, poems that didn't even fully make sense to him.

He also wrote several about Halt, and their relationship, although Halt never heard/saw them.

Poetry for Will was a way to put his complicated feelings into words, it was a feeling of closure to have his feelings down on paper.

After Alyss' death, he stopped writing, because he was ashamed of his feelings, and didn't even know how to put them into words, he had never had that issue before, which only served to make the sinking feeling worse.

After the Ruhl incident, and after his emotional blockage was healed, he wrote a poem. It was short, but scathing, and something that Will hoped no one ever read for the sake of his own reputation, they would think he was crazy, or murderous or both. But lets be fair, he kind of was.

He ended up burning that first poem. But he was glad he wrote it.

The rest of his poems were about Alyss. Every. Single. One. Even when he tried to write one about Maddie or about Halt or Pauline, they always drew back to Alyss, she was the denouement of every one of his stories. The resolution he couldn't not write.

Even after Will's own death, when Maddie found all his poetry, the poetry that was written on napkins, the backs of mission reports, stationary, scrap paper. Anything he could find. It was all shoved in a box under the loose wood board in the living room, momentarily forgotten.

But Maddie wouldn't let them be permanently lost to time.

She published them. Not all of them, just the ones that she felt symbolized quite clearly who Will Treaty was, and what he stood for.

Not the intimidating and hard man that some people knew him as through stories of his adventures, but as a man who suffered a great deal of immense transformation throughout his life. He was a clueless curious teenager, a cheeky and astute young man, and a melancholic, yet well-fortified ranger. He was a man who was oftentimes so overwhelmed with his feelings, that he let them spill onto physical paper to arrange them in a way that made sense.

Sometimes they didn't make sense, and Maddie speculated that those arcane poems probably wouldn't ever be interpreted in the way that Will wrote them, but that added to the reflection of who he was.

A man who never quite grew out of the 'feeling too much' stage as a boy.

A man who felt things as a child in a way no one would understand.

A man who never quite grew up.

#ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #will treaty #tessa's headcanons #tw ranttttt #Will Treaty character analysis #Will textposts are my favorite things to write I'm ngl #greybeard Halt was also published as it said a great deal about who tf Will Treaty was #someone who didn't give two fucks about authority

36 notes · View notes

harlowhockeystick · 2 days

Text

i present to you, straight from the tortured poets department...poetic prompts written by the chairman herself.

⎯ send in any one of these poetic prompts, no more than two at a time please, and i will give you a gut wrenching, heart breaking, life giving, fresh air breathing blurb...just as the chairman intended.

sincerely, writer for the tortured poets department anthology specialist

fornight - "i love you, it's ruining my life"

the tortured poets department - "sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me"

my boy only breaks his favorite toys - "he was my best friend"

down bad - "fuck it, i was in love"

so long, london - "you'll find someone"

but daddy i love him - "me and my wild boy, and all this wild joy"

fresh out the slammer - "i will never lose my baby again"

florida!!! - "love left me like this and i don't want to exist"

guilty as sin? - "without ever touching his skin, how can i be guilty as sin?"

who's afraid of little old me? - "so tell me everything is not about me"

i can fix him (no really i can) - "trust me, i can handle a dangerous man"

loml - "you said i'm the love of your life, about a million times"

i can do it with a broken heart - "you gotta fake it til you make it"

the smallest man who ever lived - "i don't miss what we had"

the alchemy - "he just comes running over to me"

clara bow - "you're the real thing"

the black dog - "i don't understand how you don't miss me"

imgonnagetyouback - "i can tell when someone wants me"

the albatross - "i'd visit in your dreams"

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - "if you want to break my cold heart, say you loved me"

how did it end? - "but i still don't know, how did it end?"

so high school - "you knew what you wanted, and boy you got her"

i hate it here - "i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine"

thanK you aIMee - "i can't forgive the way you made me feel"

i look in people's windows - "does it feel alright not to know me?"

the prophecy - "i'm so afraid i sealed my fate"

cassandra - "that's where i was when i lost it all"

peter - "i thought it was just goodbye for now"

the bolter - "oh, we must stop meeting like this"

robin - "you'll learn to bounce back"

the manuscript - "i'm not a donor, but i'd give you my heart if you needed it"

p.s. you can find in my directory, the list roster of different men i'll write poems for. please refer to that only, if you would. here is the link <3 oh, and send your requests here. you may also request from my au list, which is found here. that's all for now. see you when it's time to write about heartbreaking princes and screaming from tall towers.

⎯ j

#I AM SO EXCITED #ttpd prompts #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #bruce wayne #spencer reid #carmen berzatto #rafe cameron #j's writing

25 notes · View notes

castieldelamancha · 6 months

Text

Dean looks down at his lap and notices the little mountain of paper pieces that he has created there, his hands nervously tearing up into small pieces the brochure the bubbly young girl that welcomed them at the door gave him when they got to the bar.

Castiel, who was apparently talking to Dean, he doesn't know what about, because he wasn't paying attention, follows his gaze down and, slowly, pries the last remnants of what is left of the bright yellow brochure from Dean's hands.

"Dean, is everything okay?" Dean nods giving Cas a smile that he hopes is convincing enough, and judging by the way Castiel stares at him it probably isn't.

Get a grip man, he tells himself, what are you, fifteen?

Nervous, he is nervous, because he thought this whole night out for Cas and Cas is important and he refuses to let this be anything but perfect. Like he can control every little thing, like he can't accept he actually can't do that.

He takes Cas out on dates now, because they are part of the human experience, because secretly he had always yearned for the chance to do normal things like that with someone he loved, even tough he never thought he could love so much, so fiercely, so openly as he loves his Cas. They spend so much time together nowadays and Dean loves it, but he felt every activity was too much Dean and not enough Castiel. Even if they enjoy similar things and Castiel doesn't seem to mind what they do that much, Dean put all his energy into finding something that they could share but that could mean something more for Cas.

He found this amateur poetry reading night, and he thought, why not? He convinced himself, and then his brain went and gave him a list of why not's while he drove them here.

"I just want this to be good, that's all, okay?" He finally confesses, because Cas is still staring, tone light, as if he wasn't that worried, not at all.

Castiel's eyes soften at that, he puts away the ruined brochure and reaches for one of Dean's hands, interlacing their fingers together, the movement almost causing the pieces of paper mountain to crumble down.

"If it isn't," he says, apparently reading Dean like the open book he is to him these days, "it won't be your fault, I will still appreciate your thoughtfulness, and I will still appreciate the time we spend together."

Dean doesn't even know what he was worrying about, this is Castiel, he reminds himself. He made his way throughout Hell just to get him, to help him, to protect him, to be by his side, over and over again. He can survive two hours of shitty poetry, if it's even shitty. Maybe Dean is judging these strangers too harshly. He squeezes Castiel's hands, unable to say anything since the lights are turning off and people are clapping around them for the first person taking the stage.

Half an hour later Dean decides it isn't boring, nor is it awful, his brain can suck it up. He hasn't let go of Castiel's hand yet, and it isn't in his plans to do so any time soon either.

Struck me like a bolt of lightning,

brought my heart back back to life

The man on stage reads out loud, and Dean, Dean simply turns to look at Cas, watching his focused profile,

the brightness of this light of yours,

fighting off the gloom of this shadow of mine.

Castiel turns to look at him then, mouthing an I love you at him that Dean leans in to whisper right back at him.

#let's be honest what does cas even like we don't know!!! enough with the movie nights let my man fo something else #destiel #also they actually go back to the poetry night again and that time around castiel reads a poet he wrote for dean #i will one day write that fic #vanessa writes ✨#ficlet #had to thought about a poem and all for that ending #making the amateur poetry reading night real and all #who would have guessed life and mine kinda fucking rhyme not me lmao #tuserpris

25 notes · View notes

introspectivememories · 2 months

Text

NICO: WE SHARED THE LIFT THIS MORNING! I WAS GOING TO THE POOL TRAMPOLINE WITH MY TWO DAUGHTERS AND HE WAS GOING TO THE RACETRACK. PINKHAM: VERY DIFFERENT LIVES YOU'RE CURRENTLY LEADING.

#that line from nico is like /the/ modern brocedes thesis to me #like this is their happy ending!!! it is not the one they dreamed of all those years ago in greece but is a happy ending.#it's not multiple shared championships or racing against each other for years or anything their 13 year-old-selves would've dreamed up but #it is them achieving their dreams. lewis has 7 wdcs and is aiming for an 8th. nico has a loving wife and 2 daughters he'd die for. they are #both doing the things they love. would it have been nice if those dreams included each other? yeah. would it have been nice that when ppl #mention their names it would be to talk about what great friends they are instead of how they tore each other apart? absolutely! but they #were doomed from the start. so maybe it doesn't matter that they didn't get their traditional 'happy ending'. at least they had a happy #start and a semi-happy middle. at least they have the lift to see each other. at least nico's daughters get to keep lewis in their lives in #a way nico will never get to again. they will never share a bowl of frosties again but at least their roots are so thoroughly tangled #together that they can never look back without haunting each other. at least they still have that.#anyway for all the non-americans who reblog or like this. the poem is 'the road not taken' by robert frost. very famous in america #every middle/high schooler has to analyze/read this poem at some point. i don't know how popular he is outside of america so i thought id #leave a note ig.#anyway. i am going crazy and i need to lie down. that 2nd line was sooo hard to find a photo for. wth does 'hence' even mean???#brocedes edit #brocedes #f1 web weaving #f1 #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #f1 edit #nr6 #lh44 #web weaving

95 notes · View notes

crossbackpoke-check · 9 months

Text

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

#liv in the replies #patrice bergeron #boston bruins #brad marchand #do you ever think about how brad marchand said that when bergy retired he would retire or are you capable of normal thought i'm not at all #please say a gratitude for both my sanity& y'all that this poem (which has been saved in my camera roll with the vague idea of using it for #??? long) & not one of the poems i had saved for carey for a really long time & remixed & everything with another poem until i found a poem #that absolutely murdered me in cold blood but there is an alternate universe where i did& then had to explain my unhinged thoughts to you.#anyway how are we feeling about bergy retirement. pspspspsp sara & luna are y'all doing okay like. the doc title for this one was #patrice the hockey player means a lot to me but patrice the person means so much more #which is why the end line of the other poem was so *%"@^)! (you love / what you are) because patrice does. like he is a whole ass good huma #& now since no one asked i need to tell you all the details about everything also y'all please clap i made an edit with NO baby pictures #although i did find one & save it & minimal genres of photo i always use in edits because they're my taste & aesthetic but anyway.#when i saved the first photo and marked it as one i wanted i accidentally wrote “how will he know they love him” which is not the line but #makes me feel feral about patrice & the rest of them all had hurtful names too but also. the third picture is literally a CELLY like brad #just scored a goal & he is clinging to bergy for dear life with that shit i saved that as “oh the agony on his face for unendurable”#& yes it is one of my cliches to have a draft day picture but in my defense the lifelong bond that patrice has/d with boston deserved to be #there even if i put in the love story & YES that picture is from the 2011 playoff right below it shared joy & pain & i couldn't tell you #when the brad marchy photo for together forever is except for the fact that i saw it & just the gut punch of oh my god the way he looks at #things men will praise you for is the stanley cup. duh. but i love the contrast of “some deed” being the stanley cup but then #bergy's choice to do noble deeds (ends up still earning praise &that's my note to his efforts outside of hockey we love a supportive captai #should also mention the first two i came up with & had the photos i knew i wanted for were the first and last one alskaldk but i KNEW i #wanted chara somewhere in the paragraph about leaving & then while i was looking found the one of bergy playing tuukka on accident & yes #i do have to make goalie jokes every time. no reprieve . no dice/no deal/no goal goalies have no rest/reprieve etc etc the one that killed #me though was looking for a patrice award pic & i wanted basically the one that i got for “how will you know any will praise you” & instead #also got the picture of patrice winning the some community hero award for charity work that he does & i love him mama & of COURSE that puck #is from bergy's 1000 game who do you think I am (if you guessed sleepy and emotional about patrice you'd be right) and ALSO please be ready #for all the patrice posts/bruins posts that have been sitting in my drafts to be released on this occasion of patrice retirement #I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT TUUKKA ALSO RETIRED THAT’S WHY HE WAS ON WISE OR SIMPLE NO REPRIEVE AND THAT LATE OR SOON WAS ALWAYS GOING TO BE #CHARA BECAUSE CHARA LEFT FIRST TO GO TO THE CAPS AND THEN LEFT IN RETIRMENT HE LEFT SOON BUT NOT FOR REAL THEN LATER LEFT FOR REAL (RETIRED)

51 notes · View notes

nostalgia-tblr · 7 months

Text

#yeah it would have been very convenient for his brother robert #but - oh no! - it was also convenient for his other brother who immediately set off for the treasury and then a hasty coronation #(robert had fucked off on the first crusade that's why he wasn't in the right place at the right time)#(he later ends up imprisoned by his bro in a castle where he learns welsh and writes some poems)#(say what you will about henry 1st he was at least VERY good at getting things from his older brothers)#okay it might have been an actual genuine hunting accident but i only read about dead monarchs for THE DRAMA let me have this #i always enjoy when a history book gets to this point and you find out if the author thinks it was an accident or an “accident”#the normans are french vikings and i've yet to come across one whose name is actually norman #idk if that name existed then but *I* would have named at least one son 'Norman of Normandy' just for giggles #btw every famous woman of this era is called Matilda. all of them. there's battles between competing English queens called Matilda.#i have yet to come across any explanation of why this is. i assume there's an OG Matilda who's famous maybe? possibly a saint?#(there *is* one called Edith too... but then she changes her name to Matilda) (no really) (and it's her husband's mother's name)#idk how you're supposed to write Norman Monarchy Femslash when all the women have the same name #what if i want to read about Queen Matilda's epic forbidden love for her husband's arch-enemy Queen Matilda? eh? eh? EH???#i should probably come up with a tag for my history-related nonsense i wouldn't want people to find it who seek Sensible Thoughts #history fandom #(there that'll do for a tag)

16 notes · View notes

shana-rosee · 1 year

Quote

He’s the kind of guy who needs you- testosterone-fueled and smoking a cigarette. It was messed up but I’m figuring it out. You can’t blurt the kind of terrifying shit- he’s just a fucking job.

Mix That Human Stuff In by Erin Dorney

#poetry #i read this poem and all I could think about was merthur HELP #just every line had me spiraling in feels #he's the kind of guy who needs you- bc Arthur can't go one day without Merlin #testosterone-fueled and smoking a cigarette- prince Arthur a knight with the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders #it was messed up but I'm figuring it out- Merlin slowly learning that maybe Arthur isn't the bully he thought he was at first #that he's more complex and growing better every day #You can't blurt the kind of terrifying shit- he's just a fucking job- and fuck me bc this is the line that destroys me #it's Merlin realizing just how much he's grown to care for him. how important he is to him. it's Kilgarrah telling him that his destiny to #protect Arthur in S1 and Merlin doing it bc he's has to and reason saving Arthur's life was a job just as being a manservant was #and somewhere down the line it became so much more to him than a fucking job and that line is a reminder of that.#of how at the end of the show Arthur is just much more to him than a task that was forced on him. Arthur has become everything to Merlin.#this isn't what the poem was about- idk if the author has even heard of Merlin but that's all my shipper brain could think about so here #even without my merthur feels I really do think the poem is achingly good #Merlin #Merthur

17 notes · View notes

flovverworks · 18 days

Text

guy who looks a bit sad whenever they see wizard of oz

#stardust speaking !#every once in a while i think about the wizards names. and i always end up thinking about that halloween event #where akira ends up directly explaining snow white (but also seeing a apple that 'makes u sleep' and going um guys in my world.......is so #funny to me.#(its cuz the twins names are snow & white #plotting w me but its me telling u which wizard akira is gonna end up comparing u too #<-THIS IS A JOKE #sorry ive had more i wanted to say but i read the intro to ch19 in alchemy stars and soroz said that when navi was happy as a kid #he did a headstand...and demanded soroz did one too AND IMMMMMM SO FOND OF THHEEEEEMMMM seeing navi #talk to soroz again makes me so emotional augh i love alchstar story tbh im so sad it wont last forever #no1 game of lines that lives in my head(they are my highest decree. can you write me a poem. you have to wake up-dont watch until the end #so. i lost all my akira thoughts #everyday im like tbh gran is my funniest & more work-able muse and then i spend the entire time im awake thinking about akira #also im so often like oh i should rb a meme but then i rmbr i have to Find a meme and i just. dont. x_x #eventually............

1 note · View note

inkskinned · 9 months

Text

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is a real story lol #looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt #compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY #edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family

13K notes · View notes

hurkules · 1 month

Text

Domestic Life Thoughts…

Jason likes that you need him. He goes weak in the knees when you ask him to open containers because “the top must be stuck.” He can’t help but smile and give a gentle “of course, baby.”

He likes how you drape yourself over him throughout the day. He’s always touch starved, and it gives him butterflies to think that you want him as much as he does you. He doesn’t care to have personal space when it comes to you.

Whenever he gets the chance, Jason cooks for you. He looks up recipes to try out and beams when you compliment him. Whenever you bake, he eats it all in like 48 hours or less. “Sorry, baby” he’ll say placing a kiss on your cheek. “It was too good. I couldn’t resist.”

Sometimes, he has nightmares but waking up next to you is a life saver. Once he was confused and grabbed you wrist a little too hard leaving a bruise. He begged for forgiveness and banished himself to living room for a couple of days. Occasionally, he thinks about it, plants gentle kisses there, and gives a soft “so sorry, baby. It’ll never happen again.”

Jason never yells. Even if you’re arguing, he never raises his voice at you. You yelling literally doesn’t phase him in the slightest, and, to be honest, angry you is super cute and attractive to him. Despite this, he doesn’t act with the intent to upset you. Sometimes, he’s just a dick.

He’s such a loverboy. The two of you have weekly dates and he’s always bring you back chocolate and flowers. He’ll write poems and love notes and leave them on the night stand for you to find when you get home or wake up. He blushes when he finds little love notes you left in his bag and makes a mental note to thank you for it later. You put a cat sticker on his bike, and it’s his favorite thing. He added a heart sticker next to it because “you love cats, coincidentally, you’re kinda cat like, and I love you. It works out perfectly.”

It had been years since he celebrated his birthday, so when you decided to dedicate the day to him, he nearly cried. At the end of the night, you gave him a locket with pictures of the two of you and your cats. You had Eternal Sunshine engraved on the front because “This time with you have been the brightest and warmest days of my life.” At that point, he actually did cry. “You mean the world to me, baby” he told you through tears with his head buried in your neck. “I’d do anything for you. My heart’s always been yours. I swear it.”

#my post #jason todd headcanon #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood

2K notes · View notes

cloudybarnes · 7 months

Text

Secret Admirer

Pairing: slytherin boys x reader

Summary: you never get mail in the morning, not until one day you receive a letter from an anonymous sender, a secret admirer. From that day forward, you’ve been getting letters, poems, and cute little notes each morning at breakfast. His words were sweet, and as you began to fall for them, your quest of figuring out who sent them only grew.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Masterlist

note: trying something new! basically I dont wanna spoil who her secret admirer is, so I’m gonna call it slytherin boys x reader hehe guess you’ll have to read til the end to see who sent her the letters ;)

✰ ✰ ✰

“Theodore Nott, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” You shouted.

You reached across the table in the great hall where Theo sat directly in front of you. He had stolen all of the bacon off of your breakfast plate and refused to give it up. Mornings were always quite hectic at the slytherin table, but this was downright unacceptable.

“Nope,” he smirked as he popped a piece into his mouth, “they were all out when I went up for breakfast. This bacon is mine now, sweetheart.”

You huffed, and sat back down in your seat. “You’re ridiculous. If you weren’t so damn late all the time, maybe you would have had some bacon of your own.”

“Here (Y/N),” Enzo smiled from his seat right next to you. “You can have some of my bacon.” He picked the best looking pieces and put them on your plate.

“Aw, Enzo!” You grinned as you picked a piece up and ate it happily. “This is why you're my best friend.”

“Hey!” Pansy shouted from the other side of you. “Thought I was your best friend.”

“You didn’t give up a piece of bacon for her,” Draco smirked, “you’ve been demoted.”

Mattheo gruffed. “Enzo, you’re kind of mean, you know that? (Y/N) complains she’s all out of bacon and you jump to give her a piece, but when I say I need someone to do my charms homework for me, you don’t even try to lift a finger.”

“Mattheo, how many times do I have to tell you,” Enzo said, “I’m never gonna do your homework. And it’s not fair to compare that to giving up a piece of bacon! I don't even like bacon all that much!”

“Dude!” Blaise gasped from next to Draco, “if you don’t like bacon you should have passed that down this way a long time ago.”

Pansy scoffed and shook her head. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Hey,” you whined as you ate another piece of bacon, “I’m the least idiot of the bunch, right Pans?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned, about to rebuttal when the morning owl dropped an envelope in front of you.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you picked it up.

“Uh, I think it’s quite obviously a letter, (Y/N/N).” Mattheo said as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon. “And, to think, you were trying to say you’re the least idiot of us.” He laughed.

“Oi,” Theo knocked his shoulder against Mattheo’s. “Leave her be. I’ve never seen her get a letter before, I’m curious.”

Draco shifted slightly in his seat. “Who’s it from, (Y/N/N)?”

“Nevermind who it’s from,” Blaise chuckled, “I wanna know what it says.”

“Why would you wanna know what it says and not know who it’s from?” Enzo asked, “That's like half the fun.”

You shrugged as you tore open the envelope. Opening the folds of the letter, your cheeks started to warm as you read what was inside.

“What is it?” Pansy asked as she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse.

“It says, uh,” you cleared your throat, a little bit flustered. “It says ‘people love to stare up at the stars, glimmering as they might in the night sky, yet everyone is too scared to enjoy the beauty that is the sun. you are my sun, and I would willingly go blind to catch even just a glimpse of you each day.’”

You friends all stared at you in shock. Draco, Blaise and Mattheo had their mouths hung open in shock. Enzo blushed a little bit, Theo had his eyebrows raised like he appreciated the words written on the page, and Pansy all but squealed as you read the letter.

“Oh my god, I think I’m going to combust,” Pansy swooned.

“Who’s it from?” Theo asked.

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You flipped the letter to the back to see if it was signed at all. “It’s only signed with a heart.”

“That is so romantic!” Pansy squealed as she clasped her hands around your arm. “Our sweet (Y/N) has a secret admirer!”

“Wonder who it could be,” Draco said as he flicked his fingers in motion to hand him the letter.

You complied, and passed the note to him.

“I don’t know,” he said as he flipped it all around. “The handwriting sort of looks familiar.”

“Maybe it’s someone you know?” Theo suggested as he grabbed the letter from Draco’s hands. He took it upon himself to check it out a time or two before passing it to Mattheo’s eager grasp.

“I think it’s kind of funny,” Mattheo chuckled. “What if it’s some first year trying to make their move on you?”

You shuttered. “Merlin, I sure hope not. I honestly don’t think a first year would be able to write something so beautiful.”

“Yeah, no way,” Pansy shook her head. “Mattheo, you’re just jealous you weren’t the one who sent (Y/N) this letter. Maybe she’d give you a chance if you did something romantic, or just not annoying for once.”

“First,” Mattheo said, “ouch. Second, who says I’m not the one who wrote (Y/N) this love letter?”

“Mattheo, you wouldn’t know romance if it hit you with a ten foot pole.” Pansy said.

“Hey!” Mattheo complained. “Someone tell her I’m romantic.”

“Hell no,” Draco scoffed. “You’re ‘bout as romantic as bloody boil, mate.”

You laughed as Mattheo scrunched his face up. The bells chimed signaling the end of breakfast and the start of first class.

“I’m not too worried about it,” you said as you stood and started packing your stuff up. “It’s just a little letter. No harm in it.”

“But you don’t want to know who sent it?” Pansy asked as she grabbed her belongings as well.

You shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I’m not silly enough to expect something to come from this; it’s just a note. It could be a prank for all we know.”

“No one who writes like that is doing it as a prank,” Theo remarked.

“Well, still, whatever the reason may be, I’m not gonna go out looking for this person. No matter how sweet the words are.” You smiled, “I’m gonna head to class, bye guys.”

On your way to class, you couldn’t help but recite the words written in the letter. They had made your heart flutter, as stupid as that sounds. You slightly resented the way it made you feel as it was only a few measly words on paper, but the romantic part of you couldn’t help but want to know who was behind them.

✰ ✰ ✰

In your last class of the day, you finally were able to see your good friend Luna Lovegood. You had been waiting all morning to have class with her so you can inform her of the letter you received that morning.

“And it was just so poetic, Luna. No one has ever said anything like that about me before.”

She smiled at you as you mindlessly drew on your assignment. “I think it sounds quite lovely. Do you have any idea who it may be from?”

You shook your head. “No idea. I don’t even think I know anyone who writes, well, anything.”

“What about that boy Enzo you always hang out with?” Luna suggested. “I’ve got him in my literature class, he’s very talented.”

You thought to yourself for a second. Could it be possible Enzo was your secret admirer? You’d been friends for so long, and he’d always be especially kind to you.

Well, he’s especially kind to everyone, now that you think about it.

“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I guess I just never would have expected it to be one of my friends, let alone Enzo.”

“I wouldn’t rule out your group of friends,” Luna said with a smile, “it could really be any one of them.”

“You think so?”

“Well, maybe not all of them, but I think it could be a good place to start if you were wanting to figure out who it is.”

As you pondered over Luna’s words, Slughorn made it a point to reiterate there was no talking allowed during the assignment.

You rolled your eyes and got back to work, waiting for this class to be over so you could finally figure out who wrote you the letter.

✰ ✰ ✰

Back in the common room you saw Pansy, Draco, and Enzo sitting on the couches.

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Pansy smiled as she scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Find out anything new about your secret admirer?”

You smiled with a roll of your eyes as you sat with her. You kicked your shoes off and folded your legs under your body. “No, but I think I’ve got an idea brewing of how to find them.”

“Oh,” Draco smirked from the couch across from you. He folded his arms over his chest, “do tell, (Y/N), I’m very curious to see who it could be.”

You shook your head, teasingly, “not a chance, Malfoy. I’m not giving up my secrets til I get to the bottom of this thing.”

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, doll, if you wanna be secretive about your already secret admirer, I respect it.”

Enzo shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably. “It’s kind of strange though that they went out of their way to write something to you but kept it a secret. It just makes me a little apprehensive.”

“Oh, chill out, scaredy cat,” Pansy said. “(Y/N) will be fine, and if it’s someone weird at least she’s got us to look out for her.”

You grinned and wrapped your arms around Pansy’s neck. “Quit getting all sweet on me, Pans.”

She chuckled and playfully pushed you away. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not getting sweet, don’t get it twisted.”

You chuckled. “I think I’m gonna head up, got lots of scheming to get to,” you teased with a wiggle of your eyebrows.

You stood up from the couch and Pansy stood with you. “Farewell, boys, it’s been awful as usual.” She said with a smirk.

“Thank Salazar you’re leaving,” Draco said to her. “Your presence was such a nuisance.”

Pansy snarled at him and dramatically turned away to head up the stairs. You and Enzo shared a short laugh before you followed her up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

✰ ✰ ✰

The next morning, you were last to the dining hall for breakfast.

“Finally, she makes it,” Mattheo called out before taking a swig of his orange juice.

You huff and settle into your seat between Enzo and Pansy. “I know, I overslept something horrible this morning.”

Since you were so late, the kitchen staff had already stopped serving breakfast meaning you were going without this morning.

Theo glanced at you from across the table and pushed his plate towards you. “Here,” he said, “take anything you want.”

You looked down at saw scrambled eggs, french toast, and sausage links on his plate.

“Really?” You grinned as you grabbed a sausage link from his plate.

Theo nodded, “yeah, can’t have you go without eating. Lord only knows what a monster you can be without food.” He teased with a small smirk.

You crinkled your nose up at his and grabbed a piece of french toast as well. “I’m gonna let that slide since you were nice enough to give up your breakfast. Don’t make me regret my kindness.”

Theo chuckled and pulled his plate back to him, glancing up at you before delving back into his plate.

Mattheo tried to reach his hand over to Theo’s plate but was met with a slap on the wrist.

“Ow!” Mattheo said as he cradled his wrist in fake hurt. “Theo, how could you? I thought we had something special.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “You got more food on your plate then the rest of us combined. I think you’ll be alright.”

You chuckled, but a thought crept into your mind. “Hey, guys, uh, did the post come today?” You asked.

Draco raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Waiting for another letter, are we?”

Your face burned as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna get to the bottom of who it is.”

“You’ll find ‘em, (Y/N/N),” Pansy said, “even if I have to interrogate everyone we know. We’ll get down to the bottom of it.”

Just as she said that, the morning owl came swooping down towards you and dropped a small slip of paper in front of you.

Draco smirked, “Looks like someone really wants your attention, (Y/N/N).”

You tried to hold back your smile as you unfolded the small post it note.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read out to them, “'I love to see you smile, especially when you’re smiling at me.’ Aw, that’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to get sweet for this mystery man,” Blaise interrupts.

You shrug as you fold the note back up. “I don’t know, it is pretty sweet, no? And this must mean it’s someone I know personally because they said I smile at them.”

“Oh Godric,” Mattheo grinned, “you’ve fallen for a mystery man.”

“No I haven’t!” You protest. “I just think it’s sweet and now I know it’s someone I’m friends with and not some creepy first year.”

“Wait,” Theo said, “how do you know it’s someone you’re friends with?”

“Because it says I smile at them,” you said obviously. “Who else do I smile at?”

“(Y/N), I hate to break it to you,” Pansy said as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “but you’re the most smiley slytherin I’ve ever met.”

You shrugged off her hand with a fake glare. “Hey! Give me some credit, I can be bad sometimes.”

Enzo chuckled, this is the first time he spoke all conversation. “You’re too sweet to be bad, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned and playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just know it’s someone I know. I can feel it. It’s not some random person, it can’t be.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. You and your friends stood up to leave. You couldn’t help but think about the notes you received, pondering on who it could possibly be.

✰ ✰ ✰

“Post is running late this morning,” Draco noted as the clock struck 8:26 with no sight of the morning owl.

You were a tad disappointed. You had pondered all day yesterday about who it could be. You’ve narrowed it down quite a bit, and you think Luna may be on to something. While you don’t exactly think for sure that it’s Enzo, you do think you’ve narrowed it down to your group of close friends.

You really just can’t see anyone else knowing you well enough to be this fascinated with you. The only one out of your friend group that you completely had ruled out is Blaise.

Blaise was definitely out because out of the whole friend group, he was the least close with you. Frankly, you guys just don’t talk nearly as much as you talk to the rest of them.

“Great,” Mattheo gruffed, “how will I be entertained this morning without (Y/N)‘s secret stalker and his confession of love.”

Okay, maybe Mattheo was out too.

“Oi,” Theo piped up. “Don’t knock it too hard, (Y/N) seems to be enjoying herself with the letters.”

You blushed a little as you shrugged. “I don’t want to seem weird by how invested I am in it, but I just think it’s sweet. No one’s ever really expressed this kind of feeling for me, so… you know,” you shrugged awkwardly, your face definitely beet red by now.

“Well I for one am extremely invested in this,” Pansy said. “I’m lowkey jealous that I’m not the one with a secret admirer. What I wouldn’t give for someone to think of me that way.”

“Maybe someday someone will like you, Pansy,” Enzo said reassuringly.

“We might all be dead by the time that happens, but who knows, it might happen,” Mattheo said.

Pansy gasped with a glare. “Wow what crawled up your ass this morning?”

Mattheo shrugged and focused his attention back to his breakfast plate.

“Anyway,” Draco said, “I’m intrigued as well. I think I’ve got an idea who it could be, but I'm not quite positive.”

You parked up at that. “Really? Who’s your guess?”

Draco smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased.

You glared at him, “Malfoy, if you know who it is you better spill.”

“I’m not saying I know who it is, I’m just saying I have a hunch at who it may be.”

“Oh!” Enzo exclaims as he points up in the air, “here comes the owl.”

You grin in anticipation as the owl drops a little note down in front of you. It was a larger note than yesterday, but this time it didn’t have something sweet written on it.

It had a clue.

“It just says ‘being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, though I’d be lying if I said i didn’t want to be more.’” You read.

“So it is one of you!” Pansy shouted as she pointed her finger towards everyone at the table.

Draco smirked, “that was my hunch. ‘Had a feeling it was one of these blokes.”

“And who says it’s not you, Malfoy?” Mattheo questioned with a raise of his brow.

“Please,” Draco scoffed, “if I wanted to woo (Y/N) she’d be mine by now.”

“Oh big talk from down that end,” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“I could get anyone I want,” Draco puffed his chest. “I don’t need to be anonymous to do so.”

“Hey, don’t hate on my letters, Draco.” You complained. “Least they got the balls to say something.”

“Barely counts as having balls when they won’t even say who they are.” Mattheo countered.

You huffed as your table fell into somewhat of a silence. Conversations picked up without you as your thoughts trailed off.

Theo had been extremely quiet this entire time. While he was never the chatter bug, it was odd having gone almost the entire breakfast without hearing from him.

As everyone else was engaged in conversation, you stared at the boy sitting across from you. His head was down as he played with his breakfast, pushing it around with his fork.

You lightly kicked his leg under the table.

Theo’s head perked up. His eyes stared into yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t remember what you wanted to say to the boy.

His eyebrow raised in question as a small smirk glazed his lips.

You blushed a little. “I-uh just wanted to see if you were alright. You didn’t really say too much the whole time we’ve been here.”

Theo shrugged as his smile dropped. “yeah, just don’t got too much input.”

Your heart swelled. You really had turned each morning to revolve around you and your secret pen pal.

“Sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to annoy you with all my talk of the letters.”

He shook his head. “You could never annoy me, doll.”

Your heart beat like crazy.

“Still, though, I feel bad about how much I’ve put into this. Let’s talk about something else.” You offered, “how’s class going?”

Theo chuckled and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Shit. I’m drowning in assignments and got two quizzes coming up that I’m just not ready for.”

The bell rang.

Theo groaned. “Got one next class. I think I might skip, though. Give myself some more time to prepare for it.”

As everyone started walking out of the dining hall, you grabbed Theo’s arm and pulled him back.

His eyes widened slightly, but quickly reverted back to normal.

“Maybe I‘ll skip with you,” you said, “if you’ll have me, that is. I can help you study. What class is it?”

Theo hesitated. “It’s, uh, herbology. ‘m not very good with plants and all that.”

You grinned, “I can help! I’m not too bad with flowers and plants.”

Theo nodded, “yeah, I could really use the help.”

“Okay, you wanna go to the library then?”

Theo shook his head. “I’ve got a good spot. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him.

You followed him all the way out to the courtyard towards the opposite end of the school. You walked until you reach a large bench with intricate designs on the backing and arm rests.

Theo took a seat. “Figured this would be good as any. Least now we can look at some plants up close, eh?”

You chuckled and took a seat next to him. “Yeah, sounds great, Theo. You got your textbook?”

He nodded and dug through his bag to pull it out. Once he handed it to you, you started flipping through the pages to get to the important material.

“I’ve got the herbology exam 4th period, so I can help you study and it’ll help me study too! Win, win.”

Theo grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds good, doll.”

Your cheeks blushed. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. “I like when you call me doll.”

Your smile dropped. “Oh, geez, I did not mean to say that out loud.”

Theo’s face remained blank. That just made you more nervous.

“Great, now I’ve weirded you out.” You exasperated. “I’m really sorry, Theo, I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m not weirded out, doll.” He cut you off. “Was just a little stunned is all. Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than it already was, but somehow it did.

“Well, still,” you mumbled as you looked down at the textbook again, “sorry.”

Theo sat for a minute, watching as you flipped through the book. Your eyebrows furrowed a little in aggravation. You were annoyed at yourself for how stupid you were being. It was Theo for Salazar sake.

Though, you couldn’t help but admire the boy. He was gorgeous, for one, but he was also charming and witty. He was sweet and generous. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him, but you had never thought he would see you in the same light.

“(Y/N)?” Theo called.

You looked up into his eyes.

Theo stared at you, taking in each one of your features. Your eyes, your lips, your nose. You shifted a little, way too aware of his gaze on you.

“Theo?” You called back. His gaze shifted back to your eyes.

Before you could say anything, he softly spoke, “I’m the one sending you those letters, (Y/N/N).”

You stared at him in shock.

No way.

“Y-you’re the one who wrote me the letters?”

He slowly nodded his head. Theo’s lip was drawn in between his teeth. “Is, uh, are you disappointed?”

“What?” you exclaimed.

He shrugged, “I mean, you just really seemed to like the letters, and I know you wanted to know who it was, so I just hope I haven’t disappointed you in the revelation.”

You shook your head. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”

Theo’s head shot up to look at you. “Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Mhm, I like you Theo. I have for a while now, actually, I just thought you’d never give a chance.”

He laughed. “You thought I’d never give you a chance? I thought you’d never give me a chance.”

You laughed loudly together. When it finally subsided to quiet chuckles, you said, “I really like you, Theo.”

Theo’s smile grew. In a quick moment, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss.

You gasped against his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. His textbook fell off your lap as he pulled you closer by the waist.

You kissed him until you couldn’t kiss anymore. Finally pulling back, Theo’s grin was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, even with his lips a little puffy from your kiss.

“I really like you, Theodore.”

He grinned, “I really like you, more (Y/N).”

8K notes · View notes

lady-ashfade · 4 months

Text

Matching flames

Percy Jackson x Soulmate!Reader

-£ Ask: Percy x reader who's his soul mate and he only finds out when she almost dies (could be trying to save him or just because life as a demigod is hard) @poemfreak306

-£ words: 2k

-£ Warnings: Reader being injured, soulmate au, blood & cuts, reader almost dying, angsty, comfort at the end, cursing?? (You can also imagine any Percy you want in this)

Could you count all the stars in the sky?

It was almost peaceful looking up at the stars, mind going blank and your body numb. they looked so beautiful and you realize you’ve never quite looked closely at them. burning rocks floating in space that somehow was the cause of so many poems and love stories. if only you had noticed it sooner.

Blood leaked out of your side and the hand you placed over it started to give up trying to put pressure on the wound. The monster who chased you for miles had finally got to you after being so close to camp, to being safe and sound, when it’s claws finally got ahold of you. Its sharp nails dragged into your skin ripping your clothes and stained them with the blood immediately pouring out. thankfully you had one stroke of luck when your dagger pierced its heart and it was quick to fall.

Not much time has passed since then, however it was enough time for you to loss too much blood.

Had the stars always been that pretty? Just a thought as your eyes blur and the only thing left to feel was the thoughts in your head. The sweet smile of your moral parent’s smile, how it felt to laugh with friends and how some part of you still felt on fire. The shore of the camp’s lake appeared in your mind, and sand beneath your feet as you look at someone’s figure. The smile on their face was so familiar…Maybe it was death being nice to you.

you tried to keep your eyes open but they were just too heavy. maybe you could just rest for a few minutes. there was a sense of warmth that took over your body once more as your eyes fade closed.

“He’s coming, not long little one.”

the campfire wasn’t his focus at the moment but he found himself staring into it as his thoughts ran wild. he had just back to camp but this year was so much different. there was so much on his mind that he just couldn’t focus on one thing. about his mother, his father and how he still couldn’t believe he was a Demi god. even after a long time it just wasn’t normal to him.

then a hiss leaves his lips as he clings to his side in pain. it was stinging and felt on fire. he knew how being wounded felt like all to well but nothing happened, he was just sitting. then his finger felt funny like pins and needles stabbed him all at once. from his left annabeth looks at him worried and looking of his confused face.

“What’s wrong?” But the boy just stared at himself as the pain faded away but his hand became numb and weird. He spun it around a few times to look over it, checking for anything causing it but found nothing. not even a bug.

it was your smile that popped in his head. the warm shoulder he always laid on, he could hear the laugh you had ringing in his ears. why? his name was called from your soft lips but it wasn’t like normal, he saw your lips with blood from the corner. reaching out to him like he was your only hope.

“Y/n.” He stood up immediately at the image in his head. looking around for you in the crowd of campers he didn’t find you with your siblings or around your friends. annebeth looked at him worried and stood up with him, “what is it?”

he knew those trees. he’s seen then a million times. percy knew the grass, but this was different from actually knowing where you were. something was tugging his body and he didn’t need ask where you were. he knew.

his feet moved on their own and he practically ran where they took him and only thought of you. Annebeth stayed behind and told Mr.d that something might be wrong. Percy felt off and not the normal kind he always did. his body felt weaker like it was losing its life. his chest felt off and his heart filled with sorrow.

so when he found you laying in a pool of your own blood he was quick to fall next to you. “y/n” he called out. he checked for a pulse but couldn’t do it right so he leaned next to your nose and listened for your breathing and thankfully he felt some. his heart was pounding when he saw the cuts on your body making his mind wonder to what could have done it. the camp was just a few feet away and you could have been safe.

“Don’t die,” he begged and places his arm under your head, “this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” his words didn’t make sense to him when he spoke. how was it supposed to be? what was he talking about.

the new light in the sky made him look up to a shooting star shoot cross the sky. it was truly beautiful. something around his finger pulled again and he felt the small feeling of string so when he looked down it was red and tied around him. following the line he found it connected to you. The string of fate.

his string was tied to yours. you were his soulmate.

“no, no” he wrapped another arm under your legs and left you up slightly. he was staring at your face with tears pooling themselves in his eyes. for the first time he was finally seeing you as what you were. his. but how could the gods be so cruel to take you way from him. Percy wouldn’t let that happen. he’d fight hades himself for you back.

“just stay with me.” there he was carrying you passed the camp line to get you to the infirmary. even in the near death you looked stunning as you away did. he was just to stupid to see it before.

when they took you away from him he was quiet and stood outside the door and refused to leave. percy even refused to leave the room at first but was yelled at and pushed out, so he had no choice but to leave your side. how could he just stay outside when he could lose the one person that was supposedly to stay with him, to love him, and who was supposed to be with him always? how could he just sit still when he was going to lose it all?

his friends came to sit with him and offered him some kind words and reassurance but not much helped. he just sat down on a chair with his legs bouncing and hands fiddling with themselves as all he could think is about you. about the cuts on your skin and all the blood.

luckily they had gotten you somewhat healed, making you stable and fine. just had to wait for your body to heal.

“Percy,” annabeth poked his shoulder as he stared at the floor. they had left and he could go in now but he didn’t notice. “you can go in now.” Percy turn quickly to her and then at the door wide open now. so he sprinted up and inside to find you laying on the bed peacefully sleeping. annabeth didn’t follow him in because he needed a moment alone. she’d let him have his moment

Percy sat beside your bed the whole time you slept. he’d fed you. he’d brushed your hair out of your face and watched you closely as if someone was out to get you. his hand was always ready to pull out riptide in case but nothing dangerous ever came. his hand stayed in yours while he whispered for you to wake up and how much he was sorry.

“Should have realized it before,” he whispered as he leaned near you. “gosh, I’m such a idiot.” he sighed to himself and ran his eyes over you.

His hands rubbed your own, “Just wake up and I’ll make up for it. For all the time we lost, just let me love you.” His lips pressed to your head as you continued to sleep unknowing to his words but your body healing by having him close.

two days of not getting much sleep himself you’d waken up. his head resting next to your leg as he sat in a chair with his hand on yours, his hair messy. you didn’t remember coming to the infirmary or how you got here. and not percy holding your hand. but you couldn’t let go off it because it was to comfortable like it was made to fit in yours.

when you moved your body since it felt so stiff from probably not moving in days you’d accidentally woke him up. you felt bad as he shot up quickly and looked around panicked with his hand going to his side, probably reaching for riptide. once his eyes found yours it made your heart sink into your lower stomach. under his eyes were black circles and his eyes looked so painful that it broke you, like he’d been crying. he was paler then normal.

A sad smile broke onto his face, he was relieved to see you awake. He let out a small chuckle as his eyes almost filled with tears when he jumped forward you take your head into his chest as a small hug. “Welcome back,” you froze at his hug but let him have his moment. of course you smiled and wrapped your arms around him too. It was nice.

“Percy, how long was I out…How did I get here?” Pulling himself back with a red tint in his chest he sat back down.

“I found you outside the barrier. Y/n, I thought you were dead, you were barely breathing.” his voice broke. “but I got you here and now you’re awake. not dead,” there was that damn smiling again that pained you, like he was convincing his demons something.

humming and nodding your head along you look at your side to see it healed, lifting up your shirt just a little and saw a scar on your skin. it made you frown knowing how big it would be. “If it means anything, I think you’d look badass.” you put your shirt back down and look at him.

he was trying to make you feel better. “Percy when I was- When I closed my eyes I heard something and my body, well it felt different. Do you know anything about that?” his heart skipped a beat and his eyes slightly going wide.

was it obvious how fluster he was? was his skin as red as a tomato, did he look like a fool? “I have to tell you something.” Percy played with his own hands again and looked away for a second. you swing your legs to the side of the bed to stretch.

“Go ahead.”

You watched him closely and you could see he was working himself up to speak. how his body bounced and twitched, he was turning redder by the second. he was cute. and you yourself found your own cheeks turning hot when you looked at him.

“I saw you at the campfire in my mind. I could feel the pain you felt, or somewhat, like I was dying. my body was pulling me to you and I knew exactly where to find you without having to look.” As he explained you listened carefully and tilted your head to the side.

“then I saw it. The red string of fate tied to my finger. I saw a shooting star, then I saw your string tied to my. And for the first time I saw you for the first time, as my soulmate.”

“Oh.” Damnit. That was bad.

Percy nodded and now started to shut down as he watched you, your brain moving to figure out what to say. he just ruined everything. you wished to not be his soulmate, that was it. he didn’t blame you. Percy brought danger whereever he went.

But that wasn’t it. you had been thinking something else. everything made sense to you now. why you looked at him when no one else was looking. why he made you feel high in the clouds when he was near. and how he just fit so well in your life without trying. “Percy,” you call out to him again and move closer and scoot to the end of the bed with your feet hitting the floor.

you should have known from his eyes. as they look at you now it just hit you like bricks, how they were so powerful. as you take his cheek in your hands his breath hitches and holds in his chest. “i’m glad you’re my soulmate.”

he pulled you close to him and held you so tight in how arms as you giggled at how happy he seemed. his laugh made your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll make you happy.” And that you had no doubt about. you pulled back from his grasp and looked at his lips. you needed to kiss him. and Percy knew what you were thinking and wanted the same.

his face moved forward as his kiss captured yours in a soft but passive kiss, his hands moving to wrap themselves around your body as yours wrapped around his neck. it was nice but didn’t end short. after all you both waited for a long time to feel the love of a soulmate and you didn’t know that you craved it this badly.

The stars never lied when it comes to love. And now you knew that he was the burning fire within you.

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson x male reader #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #angst to fluff #soulmate au

2K notes · View notes

obsessedwithceleste · 2 months

Text

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

#slytherin boys #harry potter universe #slytherin #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #Theo Nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #Spotify

2K notes · View notes

eelhound · 5 months

Text

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

#ursula k. le guin #homer #quote #quotations #the iliad #trojan war #storytelling #fantasy #fiction writing #war #conflict #tragedy #john milton #paradise lost #greek mythology

2K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

Text

Eat your Young (viking!Konig x fem!Reader)

You weren't afraid when the Vikings came. Your ruler pays them well, and they protect you from enemies far worse - there is nothing to worry about as you, an unmarried maiden, wander into the embrace of one of them. They are on your side. Right? Tags and CWs: Age gap, size difference, Konig is a bit obsessive and a huge perv, mentions of violence, Vikings Are Actually Kinda Nice No For Real, hand jobs, oral sex, naked man/clothed woman, slightly historically inaccurate, jokes about inbreeding Thanks to @angelbabysblog for the idea. I changed quite a lot because I was reading articled about how many of the Slavic cities were actually cool with Vikings and worked with them AO3

The Vikings are here. Your Father never allowed you to meet them before – as an unmarried girl, even if you’re already of age, it would be…scandalous. Not smart. Dumb, really – everyone knows that girls that are messing with the warrior from overseas often end up being taken away. And you couldn’t survive sea travel. The Vikings are here, but it’s not really a problem – you know that there are other countries over the sea, the countries that die and burn every time a ship is sailed in their harbors. You also know that you do not live in a country like that. That sound of Vikings approaching is a good one – that you’ll be protected from the other enemies your country has. You always stole glances, despite what your father has told you – you were a curious thing, always searching for trouble, always interested in everyone outside of your small village. You’re on the border – stuck between sea and great plains, open for any enemy if it weren’t for mercenaries who deemed this place as worthy of their camp. They live here, occupying the territory outside – even build themselves houses, despite every rumor calling them nothing more but overseas barbarians who would tear you down for a flick of a coin.

Well, you always thought you’d have nothing to worry about – you are not made of coins, after all. The Vikings had a leader, the one that stayed in the long house just outskirts of the village – the one that would always visit the elders, discussing the payments and the spoils of war. Father always punished you if any nosy neighbor would see you sneaking out to look at the warriors – but you couldn’t care less. If you are going to end up in a marriage with a fool, you could at least steal a few looks at the real men. Not the ones from your village – they felt more like brothers than anything else. Some of them were – second, third, fourth, just diluted enough to make the babies a bit less disfigured.

But, oh, nothing compared to the vikings. You see them when you run for the lake, far from the shore. They are clean – cleaner than sailors from Byzantine who sometimes stumbled upon the small village by the sea. You think you heard them talking about how cleanliness is a sin – and just how silly it sounded. You think you didn’t like people from this place very much – sailors were often drunk, always handsy and never spared a kind word without an insult…not that you knew their language – but you are smart enough to know that if a man is attempting to grasp your breasts while sneering something through his teeth, it won’t be a love poem.

— What are you doing here?

Ah.

You were spotted. Like a fox in a hunter’s trap – you are standing in the tall water grass, looking at the man through the weeping willow branches. Maybe, if you are lucky enough, he’d think you were a mavka, trying to drown him – some men were foolish enough to fall for the act, sparing you the consequences of your curiosity. You aren’t sure if the Vikings have legends of mavkas – if they even have lakes back where they are from. All travelers are mixed in your head – desserts, great plains, barbarians who would steal your sisters if you’d been blessed with some. Sea beasts who will take you on your ship, away from your father and…ah, it doesn’t sound too bad.

— Can’t you talk?

His voice is rough, and accented. Younger than you thought he would be with a body like this – a seasoned warrior, ginger hair covering his muscular chest and a small trail falling down his…

Viking knows your language. Shouldn’t be surprising – they are working for the elders and your ruler, after all. They get gold from your village, they get food from your village. They get sons – you heard about at least some of the women falling pregnant to the guests overseas. No one dares to say anything against it – but the rumors are still falling. You wonder if it’s as bad as it sounds. — I can talk.

This sounds dumb, but there is no use in hiding. Your intentions weren’t innocent – you are curious and curiosity is what leads to the devil. Or god of death. Or goddess – you are not well-versed in matters of spirit and while half of your village is still worshipping old gods while the other preaches about new, stronger ones, you wonder what kind of beliefs Vikings have. You heard their women can wield magic – and can count. And read. You would love to read, you think. — Gut. Thought I spotted a Margygr.

The word is weird. Rough. You don’t know what that is, but you certainly aren’t one. You take a step forward, not caring that your linen dress is getting drenched in water – not caring about what your father might say after. You would just tell him you wanted to go and drown since he was so adamant on marrying you off to some one-eyed half-wit quarter brother of yours. He wouldn’t be surprised – and you probably wouldn’t be missed. A whore to be, as some older women from your village would say.

— What is that?

He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes looking at you. You notice a piece of cloth in his hands – something that must have been covering his face, you think. He is covered in scars and dirt, blood from some battle is getting washed away into the water of the lake. Gods, you say to yourself – you won’t even be drinking from it again. Although you promised it to yourself a few years ago already, when you spotted a dead deer lying in the water – and it’s not like you held to your promise. Better than seawater, after all. — A…drowned creature. Drowning creature. Your people are calling them… — Oh. Mavka. — Others call it mermaid. Selkie. Mermaid sounds harsh too. Rude. Other languages are rude – still, you would like to know more. Still, you would like to do anything to get out of your village. Learn to read. To write. Maybe hold a baby goat close to your chest and not have it ripped away for the nearest dinner.

— I’m not…that.

— I can see.

He laughs and you steal a peak at his manhood. You should be ashamed, really – if your dear mother was alive, she’d beat you up for being so immodest. If your dear mother was alive, you wouldn’t be allowed to sneak out like that – but she isn’t, so you stare at the man who can crush your skull in one hand. You stare at the trail of ginger hair going down his waist. The muscles flexing and the scars on his hips, glossy from cold lake water.

Hm.

Is it supposed to be this big?

He coughs and you peek to look at him again. Coughing isn’t good – he can be sick. Contangenous. There is a sickness coming around from sailor to sailor – you wonder if vikings have it too. You don’t want to get sick – but it would surely keep you out of marriage for a long while. Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you could be buried like a pretty maiden. White dress and mourning relatives. That would teach them how to send you off to marry some dumb cousin you never knew before. Or knew too well. — You shouldn’t come here, Schatzen.

— Why?

— My men won’t be as nice as I am when they see a maiden in the lake.

You smile, tilting your head to the side. There are rumors – you can’t invite foreign mercenaries into your country without them taking their toll on the locals. Some people like them, some people are scared of them. Some are going out of the ordeal pregnant and some are not returning at all. But, you can run. But, this is your lake. You like it here – the quiet, the tranquility. You think that if your father proceed with calling you an old bride who should be married as soon as possible, you could just run away and live here. Fish is nice and there are berries when it’s not too cold. — Where are your men?

You never saw Vikings in battle. Never saw a group of them up close – you’d like to, of course. There are warriors in your village, but their best shot is wolves and deer. Not other men – you think you’d like to see war sometimes. Maybe, all the boys of age would die and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You would be nice as a local witch – or a local healer. Old hag sounds nice too. — Around. Waiting for the order. — What order?

You ask so many questions, König thinks. Pretty thing – smart, too. You aren’t afraid of him, even though you have to be. Most women would be screaming and crying if they saw someone like him in the lake next to them. Not Viking women of course – but people from around here are soft. Cherished. Coddled. You also seem soft, too soft, too gentle – a woman living in a small village on the shore without a husband shouldn’t be this careless. König knows you’re just lucky that the ruler of your country is kind enough to pay the overseas mercenaries instead of suffering the pillaging. Not all of people are this lucky.

If he won’t get a promised weight in gold this village won’t be lucky either.

König looks at your sweet face, at the way your eyes constantly dart to his crotch. Curious little thing you are – he isn’t sure if he is that happy that the payments have been consistent up to this point. That he can’t just screw this all over and demand a payment in other ways. That pillaging this village and taking all of its women isn’t really an option while they get their gold from here. Your long linen dress clings to your skin - you’re shaking, he notices. From cold, probably, dumb lady who is too curious for her own good. Hm. He has furs not far from here. He can…

— We’re protecting the shore. The border, too. You smile, nodding. And here he thought the locals knew why the foreigners were here – but he can’t expect too much, he guesses. At least it seems like you haven’t heard of most of his accomplishments. The rivers of blood would be enough to fill this whole lake three times. Or, maybe, you heard – and didn’t care, brave and fearless little thing. König likes the sound of that.

— Are you cold?

You ask him, to his surprise. Your gaze is switching from his face – he is open, cheeks flushed from the cold and a maiden right next to him, and he can’t even find it in himself to cover his scarred mug – to his cock. It’s standing proudly, heavy, balls hanging low as if asking to be held in your soft palms. König isn’t embarrassed – but he is surprised that your body, showing only a little bit in that dress of yours, is already enough to make him this bothered. This ready to give up the supposed protection of this village and take what’s his. — You can warm me.

You tilt your head to the side, mimicking his action from earlier. Curious bird – he could keep you at his ship. Tied up to the post, ready for anyone to use you. You’re strong, and resilient. Should survive the long way home – and he is getting quite ready to find someone at last. If the ruler of your little kingdom won’t be as stingy as the previous one, König can walk away with a sack of gold hanging on his shoulder. Enough for him and for him men. Surely enough to sway you. — How?

— Do you have a husband?

He knows, you probably don’t. A husband wouldn’t allow his wife to run around and flirt with other men – and if König was yours, he surely would keep you locked in like the treasure you are. There is too many men ready to take what doesn’t belong to them.

— No. And I won’t.

— Why? — Soon I will be too old to be a bride anyway. Not that I want it. He laughs at that. Surely, little bird, it wouldn’t be your choice. If the luck is on his side, it wouldn’t even be the choice of your father. — Touch me, Schatzen. You want it, ja?

He says this with more awkwardness than before. Swaying women by his side isn’t his strong suit – and even with his strength, not many of them would just throw themselves at him. Being a mercenary leader might bring him money but with the whole team consisting of equally strong and handsome men, the broody leader usually isn’t the first choice. He gets his fill eventually – but not the one that would make his heart flutter. With you, however… Your hands are traveling down his abs. Caressing every bit of skin you see – sending goosebumps down his navel and straight to his hard and leaking cock. He wonders if you’ve done this before – but your actions are the one of an explorer, not a professional. YOu grab his cock with both hands almost as if strangling him, and König lets go with a choked moan.

You retrieve your hands, nervous. Good girl. Eager, pretty. Such a shame this village usually pays its tolls. — Are you hurt?

— Nein, it’s…go on. You proceed to touch him, the softness of your touches is making him groan from pleasure. This is something else – you’re something else. Having the power to bring a seasoned warrior to his knees – god, how much he liked the way you looked at him. Eager and curious, always going down to touch his cock some more. You press your palm together, making s steady rhythm – using the pre-cum from his cockhead like a lube.

König relishes in the feeling – he might be one of the strongest soldiers, but it was the first time he felt victorious. With your hand pumping his cock up and down, the pleasure settling in his stomach and threatening to burst, he felt like a king. No, the king. Gods, you were beautiful. Worthy of throwing this village into the fire for. Worthy risking the payment. Your mouth is warm on his manhood – he didn’t expect you to be this active, to wrap your lips around the bulging head and bop your head just a bit. Up and down. Tongue swirling, as if tasting him. Making him sweat that you will decide to take a bite out of it, just to satisfy your curiosity. To his peace, you didn’t. He came shortly after you decided to put your mouth on him – when your tongue started to swirl around and collect the bitter taste of his pre-cum. When your curiosity about foreign warriors bathing in your lake finally made you do something about it – and he would feel bad about pressing a hand in your hair and forcing you to choke on his length, your nails digging small red paths in his pale thighs. You choke and squirm and cry and this is the sweetest sound he ever heard – so when he finally drags you away from his cock, smiling as you wipe your mouth and whimper. Squirm again, some more. The light in your faded a little as he pushed one calloused finger into his mouth and pushed your lips apart. Poor thing, he thinks. — You did good, little bird.

His seed tastes weird on the tongue. You wince, but swallow – it’s what good brides should do, you think. Somehow, looking at this warrior, you don’t feel so bad about being considered a bride. Maybe…no. You stalled here for long enough – you saw the Viking. You touched him. Tasted him. Father is probably looking for you.

You don’t even bother to say goodbye as you come out of the water – but König stops you right on the edge of the lake, firm hand on your shoulder. Squeezing. Touching. Feeling.

— I…I apologize, maiden. I lost control.

His voice is hesitant. You don’t like how unsure he sounds. It made you feel unsure too. Weird. Uncertain and meek.

— Are you going to leave soon?

He stops mumbling, looking into your eyes. This is settled – he is not leaving you here. You must return to your family, say your goodbyes. Maybe enjoy a few weeks of peace before his troupe finally gets a clearing on killing whatever enemies grouped at the border – and he will take you no matter the payment your ruler can give him. Nothing will be worth more than you.

— Yes. Yes, I will. You turn away, almost running. He didn’t stop you this time – you need to get as much freedom in your lungs as you can. He will take you eventually and, well…you best enjoy freedom as much as you could before this.

When your village will burn along with all the cousins, half-triple brothers, and elders, you’ll find out why most countries fear the Vikings. When you will be hauled to the wooden ship over a giant’s shoulder, with his hand sitting firmly on your ass and his other palm preventing you from screaming, you’d know why taking the attention of overseas mercenaries is a bad idea. When your ruler would refuse to pay the warriors for their service and force them to just take everything by force, you’d know why making payments on time is so important.

When König would finally make you his wife, you’d understand why you should have drowned in that lake instead.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig x you #konig cod #cod konig #yandere x you #yandere x reader

2K notes · View notes