#similies
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How to Write Metaphors
Making your story stand out to readers requires vivid descriptions. You have to weave senses and emotions into scenes, which might mean using a few well-placed metaphors.
Here are a few tips to help you understand why metaphors exist, their purposes, and how to write them more effectively
What Is a Metaphor?
A metaphor is a figure of speech that makes one idea more clear by associating or explaining it with other object or idea.
When someone does something sweet or thoughtful, their friend might say, “Aren’t you a peach!” They’re not saying that person is a literal peach. They’re complimenting their kindness by comparing it to a super sweet fruit. It creates a more vivid picture and can be more flattering than saying, “That was so nice of you.”
Metaphors also lend a more conversational tone. You wouldn’t find metaphors in professional documentation because it’s supposed to be authoritative and serious. Metaphors make a conversation less serious by making lighthearted or silly comparisons.
How to Write Metaphors
Anyone can write or create metaphors by keeping these three tips in mind.
1. For Visual Help: The Extended Metaphor
Extended metaphors last longer than a single sentence or phrase. They often appear when someone is trying to make their anxiety clear to someone else or raise the tension in a story.
Example:
“You will never do that again,” she roared, swiping at him until there was enough space for her to leap on her prey.
The woman isn’t literally a predator animal like a panther or bear, but the metaphor makes her anger seem stronger or more powerful by rooting it in an animalistic sense of survival.
2. For Humor: The Mixed Metaphor
You can also write a mixed metaphor to lighten a situation or wield your sense of humor in a story. They take readers by surprise, which might be exactly what a scene calls for.
Example:
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Anthony said.
“You know what they say,” Irvin replied, “when the rubber meets the road, we have to bite a bullet.”
Anthony laughed. “That’s literally not what anyone says.”
“Whatever—you know what I mean.”
3. For Practice: The Dead Metaphor
Writers consider any overused metaphor a dead metaphor. The idea is to avoid using them because creating something new is more interesting. It’s also a sign that you’re a more skilled writer.
Examples:
When the ghost appeared, Amy’s face turned snow white.
“Stop repeating yourself,” he said. “You’re a broken record.”
Xander would rather kick the bucket than take Friday’s exams.
Why Are Metaphors Important?
Why use metaphors at all? I’d guess you’re already unknowingly putting them in your stories, but let’s talk about a few reasons why many writers use them on purpose.
Metaphors Engage the Senses
If someone says talking with their boss is like voluntarily bashing their head into a wall, you can feel the pain in your head and the groaning urger to do anything other than that. It’s more descriptive than saying someone hates talking to their boss, so it’s more engaging.
Remember, metaphors aren’t the only way to write with your primary senses. You shouldn’t rely on metaphors to do all of your descriptions. However, they’re helpful when you want to switch up your narrative style occasionally.
Metaphors Replace Similies
It’s easy to confuse similies and metaphors, but they’re two very different narrative tools that can make your stories better. Describing things in numerous ways demonstrates your expert control of your craft.
Similies compare two things using “like” or “as.” Metaphors claim something as another thing without those words.
Examples:
Simile: When I kissed her, her heart beat as loud as a drum.
Metaphor: When I kissed her, the drumbeat of her heart filled my ears.
Simile: The kids act like crazed animals once family game night gets competitive.
Metaphor: Our house turns into a zoo when family game night gets competitive.
Simile: His presence in my life is like a light in the darkness.
Metaphor: He’s a light in the dark.
Practice Using Metaphors
Anyone can write using metaphors and make their stories more engaging or descriptive. Sometimes you might also write a metaphor that your readers don’t understand.
That’s okay. It happens all the time.
The point is for your metaphors to make sense to you and serve a descriptive purpose in a sentence or scene. Avoid the overused ones and you’ll become an expert in no time.
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What’s the Difference Between Metaphor, Simile, and Analogy?
Metaphors, similes, and analogies are three literary devices used in speech and writing to make comparisons. Each is used in a different way.
Identifying the three can get a little tricky sometimes: for example,
when it comes to simile vs. metaphor, a simile is actually a subcategory of metaphor, which means all similes are metaphors, but not all metaphors are similes.
While these figures of speech are used to compare different things, here are some clear rules to help you distinguish between metaphor, simile, and analogy:
°•°
1. A simile is saying something is like something else.
2. A metaphor is often poetically saying something is something else.
3. An analogy is saying something is like something else to make some sort of an explanatory point.
4. You can use metaphors and similes when creating an analogy.
5. A simile is a type of metaphor. All similes are metaphors, but not all metaphors are similes.
Hope this was helpful! You can send in asks or requests for content, I'd be glad to respond! Like, share and follow for more! :)
#writing tips#metaphors#similies#analogy#writing advice#how to write#books#writers#daily life#readers of tumblr#bookaddict#writers on tumblr#reader problems#dank memes#book blog#booklover
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When I first entered the Voltron Fandom, Lance had blue eyes. It was a truth throughout all the fics I read. Coming to tumblr @autisticlancemcclain introduced me to a whole new world, where brown eyed Lance was fighting to be the norm. I hadnt questioned it before, a scottish/questionable origin of a last name and the blue theme had me easily convinced.
But with this whole new world I fell into a wonderful exploration of the love of brown and dark eyes. But my original love of Blue was so ingrained that I found myself simply combining them. My rant thing below, not very long, but my addition to the eye color thing. Cause I love both and think they can co-exist, at the very least in my head :]
Lances birth was scary. The doctors had been sure he wouldnt make it, and while his mother put on a brave face, she could feel it too. She prayed to whoever would listen.
The Blue lion, hidden on Earth for such a long time, on reserve power and far too far from a balmera crystal to be fully powered, feels the beginning of a new dawn. She knows shes not supposed to, but this is for the future- and more importantly her beautiful Paladin.
Lance is born with one Bright Blue Eye, and one Lucious Earthy Brown Eye. Lance- once old enough- buys contacts in both colors, switching every few days to confuse people. When asked he gives the most confused look he can manage, looking at whomever asked like they'd grown a second head, its his longest running joke. Students at the Garison have a running pool on which color is true.
Years later, when the Earth is invaded and lost ones return, the people see him again. When in space, one can imagine the difficulty of finding contacts- and the lack of importance of such a thing- so here comes Lance in his heterochromatic glory.
Except this is not the Lance with watery blue eyes or cocoa brown ones either. His Blue eye is like ice, an otherworldly color, a viel, and his Brown eye is deeper than any mudden brown one could dig up from this Earth. But Lance isnt the only one with new eyes.
Beside him, the Hero, the Legend, Shirogane Takashi. People who know his posters like the back of their hands, or had watched him florish in the program, stare in awe as once sun warmed dirt, has turned into a void not unlike those in space. Deep and tired, ageless and old, but oh so kind, a tint of michieviousness remains.
But they do not stop there, these are not the eyes of those they had lost, but ones who had to find themselves over and over again. On rainy days and nights, a blue eye ripples like a clear puddle. A black eye flashes bright and in time with every stroke of lightning. It is otherworldly. It is not of Earth. It speaks of volumes they will never hold.
Because one does not leave this plane and return the same.
#voltron legendary defender#eyes#Shiro#Lance#heterocromia lance#heterochromia#metaphors#similies#idk#they died#and came back#:)#so kinda angst?
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there comes a certain power with being well acquainted with words,
a certain je ne sais quoi that’s impossible to describe—
i know i couldn’t do it, cause believe me, i’ve tried—
beyond the reach of those who aren’t familiar with the blurbs
of notes written by what some would consider a madman, others a genius;
but there also comes a certain bliss with being unencumbered
by the weight of the responsibility that can at times outnumber
the wonder and joy that comes with being this:
some simple kind of artist, prose and poetry alike,
metaphors and similes keeping me company at night,
when all i really want is your loving hand to hold;
to keep me when i’m lonely and to warm me when i’m cold.
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Permanent
per·ma·nent
/ˈpərmənənt/
adjective
lasting, intended to last, remain unchanged indefinitely.
Sharpie, it read. Permanent Marker. I popped the lid and asked for your hand. I signed my name on the back of your hand, letters round like bubbles, floating across the sky of your skin. My heartbeat blurred like a hummingbird's wings when the corners of your smile appeared.
"May I?" You asked, softer than soft. Taking my hand carefully, in permanent ink, you built shaky letters that spelled your name. And I treasured those letters like most treasure jewels. The ink faded over a couple days, but while it was there, your name made me smile.
And while ink isn't permanent- You might be different.
#sharpie#markers#poem#poets on tumblr#poetry#love poem#forever#lasting love poem#hope for the future#poet#permanent#permanently#permanent ink#similies#similies galore
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Death is Natural, Right?
Death is natural, right? Feline halitosis one can smell from yards away, the stench of quick-approaching mortality. The aroma swells and dissipates in sickly sweet cession. In a way he is still beautiful in a juxtapose sort of way, like the Titan arum or the word “metastasized.” He is still as he was as a young kitten, his hair silky soft and as dark as the April night. Understanding comes as soon as the smell, it is his time.
There is no fear or panic, just acceptance. What is done cannot be undone. There is still shock, no doubt; the shaking and asphyxia is hard to take in. The breathing that sounds just like steel nails on 50-grit. Recalling the short-lived yelp and the convulsing like a shiver going up one’s spine. That sick feeling spins a web of guilt, “could I have done anything more?”. The answer is well… sometimes.
Death is natural, right? The gaunt appearance of a friend once young, seemingly out of nowhere. Once agile and quick, now contracted and sick. Nature can nurture; however, nature can kill. Air so cold, one could swear it was the age of the Pleistocene. Wind howling like the coyotes on a warm summer’s night. He takes a deep breath and chokes on the nurturing care of nature, pleas never heard over the howling white snow. The cat was under the stairway, cold as ice but looked just as pleasant as when he sat by the warm, crackling fireplace. As quoths the Raven, “Nevermore.”
Acceptance is a hard thing to acquire when he was there just yesterday, as normal as ever. Anger and sadness burn like acid through hearts and eyes. Guilt weighs heavy like a cinder block on a balloon. Nothing is like it was before. His hair is coarse, his joints are stiff (as it has been less than the allotted 24 hours). No closure, one can only feel helpless.
But death is natural, right?
#wrote this for college#poetry#poetry is subjective#is this even poetry#about my dead cats :(#wrote this in 40 minutes#descriptive paper#similies#i like metaphors#metaphors#this is so bad please
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Learn English *SIMILIES*
Please watch, like, share, comment & subscribe our NEW CHANNEL
VENU'S SPOKEN ENGLISH
In this channel you will get only spoken english content.
Thank you so much for all your support
#english#spokenenglish#proverbs#learnenglish#englishshorts#shorts#shortvideos#englishvideos
#simpleenglish#specialenglish
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On art.
I feel like we've gotten to a point where creation of images have become static with global inundation. We can say we don't like AI... but then post a photo with lighting and color correction, framed down to the rule of thirds automatically by a smartphone. Going bigger requires time, money, space, accessible locations, unending inspiration through unending exploration. It needs a clear head not burdened by humanity and its redundant failings. It prefers either mental well-being or complete mental abandonment.
Getting through a day capable of speaking is a triumph for many in a nation culture where depression and anxiety are the number one mental health issues. Perhaps I'll get my mojo back someday and throw clay or decide to take something other than pictures of my face as it ages day by day, or perhaps as some have said, most shoot their shot while young.
Creativity, like a diamond, cuts channels when it's pointed and exact, clear as the bright sky and compressed into a tangible passing of the day's thoughts, influence, and experiences. Many aspire to hold that high pressure forever in order to collapse the coal they are holding into a glistening gem. Others ignite it and burn it up, usually creating toxic smoke. My therapist says she doesn't believe that art needs to come from a tormented and emotional mind...but I can't envision it without one.
#comment#commentary/opinion#commentaries#art#artists#creatingart#creating#ennui#existential dread#daybyday#futility#inspiration#aboutinspiration#mentalhealth#wellbeing#similies#modernliving#wealthdisparity#aiart#automaticart#devenhologram#creativity#muse#pointlessness#bowingout#critique#essay#prettypicture
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“Ci sono stati d'animo che non si possono spiegare. Per capirli, occorre essere simili.”
— F. Carcereri
#stati d'animo#spiegare#capire#non capire#essere simili#frasi e citazioni#frasi tumblr#frasi#f carcereri
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Bashing my head in the ground and sobbing at how Briseis and Patroclus mirror the kind relationship (both platonic and somewhat familiar) with Helen and Hector. How they both treated the women with kindness and respect, how both women mourn their deaths and are given their dialogue to do so. How both women were trophies of war to a man that took them away from their first husband, but Patroclus swore to Briseis how she will be revered as the legitimate wife of the hero Achilles, and Hector stood up for Helen all time, both as friends. How they both wailed out to the deaths of the beloved heroes, merciless in battle and kind to their people, faithful to their loves all the same.
No one stop me I'm moving to the sea to drown my sorrows.
#This was mostly about the m and f platonic friendships but I also want to say that Patroclus and Hector mirror each other quite a lot#which makes me wonder if. down to their deaths. this simily was supposed to be intentional#i might have to keep some notes on this but anyways#SOBBING YOU KNOW IM WEAK FOR WOMEN BEING RESPECTED IN ANCIENT TIMES#ESPECIALLY WHEN IT ISNT JUST THEIR HUSBANDS BUT OTHER MEN AS WELL LIKE PLEASEEEE#right tags#tagamemnon#briseis#hector of troy#helen of troy#helen of sparta#patroclus#illiad#the illiad#greek mythology#i cant put the translations bc i keep reading this bitch in spanish
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Residence reference spotted in my coursework 😨🫵
#I made this through tears by the way#I have so much research to do and less than 10 hours to write 4 essays#unfortunately the house md blogging grind never stops#house md#greg house#gregory house#hatecrimes md#fun fact though… when I wrote the phrase lines in the sand I decided to google it to make sure I was using it correctly#and the first result on search is the house episode#rather than just…. the saying#this is just like when I used the similie ‘like a bullet through a flock of doves’ in a creative writing assignment in HS#thinking that was just an idiom
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The Sleepwalker
Elfriede Lohse-Wachtler
Woodcut on brownish simili-Japan paper, 1919
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August 3, 2023 - Social Flycatcher (Myiozetetes similis)
Found from Mexico to central South America, these tyrant flycatchers live in semi-open habitats with some bushes and trees, often near water. They feed on insects and fruit, as well as tadpoles, foraging in pairs or family groups after the breeding season and gathering in large flocks at fruiting trees. Females build bulky domed nests with side entrances from dry grass, straw, weed stems, small twigs, and often cotton, paper, and strands of plastic in trees, bushes and other locations, including human-created structures. They often nest near bee, wasp, or stinging ant nests, frequently in the same tree or bush as other species of tyrant flycatchers. Females incubate clutches of two to four eggs alone.
#social flycatcher#tyrant flycatcher#myiozetetes similis#bird#birds#illustration#art#water#birblr art
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Simili - The Executioner
Professor!Agatha Harkness/Student!Female Reader
Fanfic Chapter List
Summary: A series of murders start to scare the small town of Westview when young university students turn up dead on campus, soon Y/N seems to be connected to the victims somehow. Determined to find the author of these atrocities, she can trust no one, not her family, friends, and even less the local police, except the only person really willing to help her, the professor Agatha.
Warnings: Trauma in the subtext, sorry
Word count: +2500
"I watch attentively as the molten bronze falls through the mold, boiling, shining, filling every gap that will form a beautiful image, just as the fire fills and consumes me inside to one day become a person, for now I'm just a mold, even though bronze already runs through my veins, it's in my blood, it's who I am."
As an omen of dark days and in response to recent events, the sky has darkened, turning the bright ones into a mist of mourning. Everything is gray, the animated conversations have become murmurs and, even if they hide it very well, fear pervades the corridors. The academic staff have told everyone that there is nothing to fear and no reason to, but how could they not fear a brutal murder on campus? The image of the man in their memories, haunting some dreams, meanwhile seems to be the entertainment of others who can't stop talking about it as if it were a kind of gossip. Young people are stupid, that's what Y/N thinks as she goes along her usual route, trying not to stare for too long at certain groups that gather on corners, enthusiastic whispers and cunning words, dozens of theories being born. No one really knew Jareth Redd apart from the fact that the name was on the staff and his visits, which could easily go unnoticed among the suited men who administer the university. She... she remembers the yellowed and pointed teeth showing in a smile not warm at all, almost sickly from how forced it was, the eyes that lingered too long and the soft speech that could engage anyone. And she doesn't like to talk or even think about him. That's why she's silent while friends chatter away, trying to keep her mind off other things like new classes or the fact that it hasn't stopped raining, two days and three nights in a row, the puddles are piling up at the exits, there's no umbrella to withstand the gale and at the same time there are a dozen reporters surrounding every gate. It's annoying how they insist on asking questions that no one has answers to and when don't get what they want, induce those answers, distorting phrases to make headlines in the local newspaper, main posts on websites and bloggers too. After days, they're still seen standing on the other side of buildings, trying to take photos or at least catch a glimpse, it's hard to have a big news story like this in hand in a considerably small town. A promising opportunity.
"I heard he had a mistress and the wife ordered his death..." Wanda whispers to friends, there had been several rumors spreading in her previous classes "And the mistress is a university student, from here."
"He wasn't married." Y/N comments without thinking, immediately dismissing another created story, although she knows that if he were married it would probably be true "There was no ring on his finger." she tries to take some of the attention off herself when realizes that the group is staring with curiosity.
"You're very observant, darling." Darcy compliments and smiles sweetly, approaching her who walks ahead faster than the others "Is everything all right?" she asks in a whisper, worried, since everything happened her friend has been quieter than normal, which isn't surprising considering how traumatizing seeing the scene had been.
"Hum, yeah... yeah... I'm just a bit distracted today. I still have a couple of classes to finish the day." she shrugged and sighed, feeling tiredness along with the sleepless nights take over her body "And you?"
"Just one more, how about we meet at the Planet later?"
"I'll come along!" the redhead says, just behind them, listening attentively "But I'll be late, our practice has been postponed until late afternoon."
"The debating club too." Monica says dejectedly, many classes have been canceled and events postponed "Maybe we won't go at all." she points at Jimmy, he agrees.
They quickly get back to chatting about trivial things, like celebrity affairs or how much they hate a specific professor; to Y/N's relief, Redd is no longer mentioned. However, the walk is long, too much for her taste, feeling exhaustion in every part of body. From neurons synapsing a millisecond slower to feet that don't seem to obey the mind screaming that at this rate she'll be late. A bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the dim corridor and the noise makes all her hairs stand on end, like a dose of caffeine, it wakes her up almost immediately, senses heightened and eyes alert, suddenly there's a lot going on around. A bunch of architecture students, if she remembers correctly, walk past them, judgmental looks alongside curious stares, all pointed in one direction, Y/N. They don't even try to hide it. This irritates and embarrasses her at the same time, she has never particularly liked being the center of attention, since childhood preferred to be on the sidelines, just an observer and now, after letting instincts lead her to that scene, she has become the last thing wanted. She involuntarily stares back at them, until finally she loses sight, and swallows her saliva, realizing the consequences of that day. But she... needed to confirm what resembled one of the recurring nightmares she's had, the ones that still torment her in the middle of the night and make her feverish. All seems very surreal. The water running under feet, wet grass, red taking over green, white and gray, the statue she had never paid attention to appeared to express itself as it held him in arms, between pain and compassion for a loved one who was gone. Such irony, she thought to herself, smiling without noticing.
"Hey!" Wanda calls as she approaches, increasing speed to keep up with them "I have to do something before class, I might be late, could you save a seat for me?" and without giving a chance for an answer, the other girl takes off down the corridors, everyone there knows what she went to do and with whom, no one comments anything.
"Good luck with your new classes, I hope and pray I didn't scare you about SHE." the brunette whispers, feeling a bit guilty.
"Nah, I'll be fine." Y/N shrugged and winked at her "By the way, I don't want to be late, so I'm going. See you later!"
"See you..."
Without even trying to hear what her friend wants to say, she heads towards the stairs to the second floor, where the classroom is located. It's not as if she can pay attention to any real words or advice, it just goes in one ear and out the other, through the fog that her mind has fallen into. She's thankful that the floor is practically empty compared to the first, so she doesn't have to face the people staring at her or fill herself with questions about what the hell they must be thinking, away from judgmental, malicious and biased speculation. For God's sake, they don't even know her name and that doesn't prevent invented rumors from circulating in every part of the campus.
"I'm sorry, I was distracted..." she begins to explain immediately when feels herself hit another body, both almost fall to the ground due to the impact, but hold on to each other avoiding it, the younger raises face and, surprise, releases her, kept safe by the arms that continue to hold her by the waist firmly against herself, so close, face to face "You... I mean... Well, I, actually..." the words are jumble in the midst of so much nervousness, her throat dries up immediately and hands tremble.
"Watch where you're going next time." the woman says slightly annoyed and lets her go after making sure she can stand. Then straightens the coat she's wearing, fixes the glasses that slipped down the nose during the collision "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. And you?" she asks, nervousness evident in her voice. The woman, the same one who hugged and cried in her arms, is so different from how she remembers.
The eyes, previously swollen and darkened by pain, are a clear, soft blue, expressive and gentle, capable of seeing through any soul, from the purest to the most bruised, contradicting the indifferent expression on her delicate features. Long eyelashes frame them, accompanied by well-defined eyebrows, outlined nose and perfectly drawn mouth, a mature beauty that makes Y/N melt immediately. The air is stolen from her lungs and a sudden need arises to look minimally presentable, internally regretting her modest clothing, slightly disheveled hair and the miserableness of her appearance in general. A little embarrassed, she runs fingers through locks in an attempt to straighten them.
"More than fine." the brunette reacts indifferently and stares at her from head to toe, making the student even more tense "Now, if you don't mind." she mutters, checking the handbag before continuing to walk in the opposite direction, without a second glance.
The stranger's phantom touch makes her skin burn, a weird sensation begins to consume her, an emptiness that hits her straight in the chest. Y/N sighs in defeat, feeling the world trying to create a small conspiracy so that nothing is forgotten or, as she prefers, buried seven feet under next to his corpse. Very dead, waiting to be consumed by the worms, who, even though they are worms, are about to taste the dirtiest thing they've eaten in a short lifetime. The poison intrinsic in the cold and sickly flesh, time destroying it, just as it should with all the secrets and deeds in life. In the end, all she wants is for this person to disappear from existence, to leave her alone. No matter how much she's being pulled into the small loose parts of a complex puzzle, by which she means people and anything related, begging to be seen, she prefers to blind herself. Repeating, for the hundredth time in the week, that everything ended the minute a heart stopped beating.
"Right, right, everything's fine now." she murmurs, impatient for letting these thoughts, ideas and... some memories surface "Class! I have to be in class." quickly checks the room number on the timetable.
It takes her a while to find the correct number in the long corridor, among the various identifications that scramble in her blurry vision, sometimes she forgets how big the campus can be. From the high walls raised in raw brick to the statues molded by the hands of the graduates themselves, every detail drawn on Westview's timeline, the pride of the small town. The Mythology professor's auditorium lives up to this, rows of chairs down wide staircases, at least fifty empty seats, the walls are filled with paintings probably worth more than her life, along with dozens of historical decorations, at the end there is a stage that seems untouchable, so clear and organized, a large table in the center, behind it two shelves full of old books and a blackboard already scribbled on. The cursive letter written in impeccable calligraphy.
Heels tapping against the laminate floor attract attention and a figure emerges from the adjoining door, walking at a slow, glorious pace to the table, those thick-framed glasses stuck on the end of her nose as she seems to concentrate on reading the local paper.
"Are you going to continue staring at me or find a seat for yourself? Class starts soon." the woman, the same one from the fountain and the corridor, says loud and clear, sitting down without even looking up "And keep quiet."
Y/N just nods in shock and does as she's told, looking for one, having the privilege of choosing anyone since nobody but her has arrived yet, ending up somewhere in the middle. And not a single student shows up for the next ten minutes. She begins to wonder if there will be any more or if a second thing has happened in the week to bring everyone together, doubt makes the atmosphere tense, not only because of her concern, also for the indifference she feels coming from the other woman. It's almost as if she despises the girl without even knowing her, which only reinforces what Darcy warned about earlier and makes her believe that she is, in fact, an executioner. How will the next lessons be if this is just a taste of what's to come? Not to mention the visible connection between her and the late chancellor. As the clock ticks down, the hope of having a partner in the battle for the first class is fading and, like a heroine on a winged horse, Wanda finally appears. The loud banging of the double door draws the attention of the only people there, which earns her a disapproving look, she doesn't mind.
"Honey, I'm home!" she jokes, taking a seat next to Y/N "Can you believe I couldn't find him anywhere? So I gave up wandering around campus like a silly cockroach. Did I miss anything?"
"Class hasn't even started."
"At this pace it won't, will it always be empty like this?" she whispers noticing the older woman's deadly stare now directed at them, the newspaper forgotten on the wooden surface "I wouldn't be surprised at her fame."
"I have very good hearing, Maximoff." the brunette says suddenly, standing up and showing off her elegant figure without a coat; no one noticed that she had taken it off, revealing a beautiful navy blue dress that clings to curves and accentuates all attributes "And you should know that my fame doesn't even come close to what it's really like being in my class."
At this point, Y/N doesn't even care anymore about the reputation of an executioner or how the hell she's going to deal with it for the rest of an entire semester, her eyes are fixed on the lines that outline the impeccable body and she can't help but admire her beauty. If she didn't have the slightest bit of self-control, surely she'd be drooling with reason. But she's certain to be blushing deeply and is grateful that the attention is on her friend.
"Well, you two are new, so I'll be kind enough to go over a few simple rules. First of all, time, anyone arriving after the agreed time won't be allowed in. I'm not going to waste my voice for nothing, so be quiet, pay attention and take notes. And, most importantly, no smartphones."
"But..." Wanda tries to protest only to be interrupted immediately, with no chance to say anything or assimilate indignation.
"That's all!" the professor takes two steps forward and stares at them for a moment, blue irises fixed on Y/N before returning to speak "Welcome to Cosmogonic Mythology! I am Miss Harkness, besides teaching I'm in charge of the history department..."
The words become garbled and the younger can't concentrate on the introduction to the subject, even though she knows all the difficult words need to be written down and some knowledge absorbed, nothing seems to enter her head. She is paralyzed, without reaction. It's really happening, there's no escape. At the same time as being enchanted by the professor, she is also frightened, fearing that she might read her soul and pull out the deepest secrets, because, like a magnet, they can't take their eyes off each other.
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feyhunter78
Fortune Favors the Lovesick
fyshandchyp
YY
funtimesfella
Untitled
waspandbone
Wasp and Bone Adornments
hgjgngng
thoughts