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#the imprint of September second
llovelymoonn · 7 months
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favourite poems of september
robin blaser the holy forest: collected poems of robin blaser: "[dear dusty moth]"
robin ekiss the mansion of happiness: "the bones of august"
e.e. cummings complete poems 1904-1962: "[anyone lived in a pretty how town]"
daisy fried econo motel, ocean city
david campos guilt shower and bad catholic
deborah a. miranda the zen of la llorona: "advice from la llorona"
v. penelope pelizzon blood memory
aimee nezhukumatathil invitation
jeffrey jullich portrait of colon dash paranthesis: "some materials may be inappropriate for children"
karina borowicz september tomatoes
patricia kirkpatrick survivor's guilt
kamau brathwaite born to slow horses: "i was wash-way in blood"
leslie adrienne miller the resurrection trade: "weaning"
allen edwin butt if briefly
gerrit lansing a february sheaf: selected writings, verse and prose: "how we sizzled in the pasture"
jayne cortez on the imperial highway: "in the morning"
stephen yenser preserves
ethan gilsdorf the imprint of september second
kathryn maris abc
paul zarzyski the antler tree
judith goldman vocoder: "rotten oasis"
tato laviera benedición: the complete poetry of tato laviera: "latero story"
tim seibles mosaic
ethan gilsdorf the imprint of september second
lucy wainger jiro dreams of sushi
robert duncan ground work: before the war: "a little language"
r.s. thomas the poems of r.s. thomas: "forest dwellers"
anthony wrynn saint john in the wilderness
reginald gibbons bear
walt whitman "are you the new person drawn toward me?"
kofi
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sapphireshorelines · 2 years
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Second of September, I ate the last berry of summer, the sun still dreaming it's July twenty-first
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also, I love it so here, and have so little relaxed time to saturate myself with the minor pleasures and daily epiphanies of life that I may just stay at the apartment into the middle of september to cook and read at widener and observe the plethora of vivid details of life which I generally have to ignore for the sake of economy of time
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when summer turned to ash / from Ventimiglia to Salerno / and nothing else was left / and we were free / to run away, to play dumb or cry / one September night.
Do not faint in September/ or you will wake up in a dead city
I had a terror—since September—I could tell to none, and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground—because I am afraid.
Another day; another Friday; another twentieth of March, January, or September. Another general awakening.
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•••
Ethan Gilsdorf, The Imprint Of September Second / Joe Brainard, I remember, Three Pansies / Anne Carson, The Glass Essay / Virginia Woolf, A Writer's Diary / Sylvia Plath, letter to Gordon Lameyer / Robert David Cohen, September / Frank W. Benson, Autumn (1895) / Franco Fortini, One September Night / Anne Sexton, The Sermon of the Twelve Acknowledgement / Emily Dickinson, letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson / Virginia Woolf, The Waves / Jackson Pollock, Autumn Rhythm (Number 30)
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metamorphesque · 8 months
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🍂 september poems 🍂
September 1913, William Butler Yeats
The Imprint of September Second, Ethan Gilsdorf
September, Joanne Kyger
Drowning in September, Eric Pfeiffer 
September, H Stuart
September Tomatoes, Karina Borowicz
One September Night, Franco Fortini
September Sunday, Lucille Broderson
September, 1918, Amy Lowell
September Midnight, Sara Teasdale
Monday, September 25, 2006, Susan Schultz
One September Afternoon, Leo Dangel
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wintersera · 8 months
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forever mine || alpha!karina x omega!reader
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notes: AGAIN sorry for the delay anon but here’s the request!! fun fact i wrote this while listening to the super mario galaxy ost 😭
cw: OMEGAVERSE, alpha karina, omega reader (obvs), maybe rina is a little possessive, use of toys, biting, scratching, g!p rina, creampie, breeding kink
wc 2.2k
your alpha girlfriend was so sweet and caring, the best alpha you could ever wish for. unlike other alphas, she was never too aggressive with you, rather, she was too careful with you- biologically she should’ve been treating you like you were her toy for breeding, but i guess not. nonetheless she was still a great alpha girlfriend.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK
first of september- the first ever day since you’ve forgotten to buy your heat suppressants since you started dating jimin. your stomach drops as your pheromones begin to waft around your workplace filled with pure blooded alphas.
shit shit shit i’m dead, oh i’m screwed what do i do? ohhh god what do i do?
it was sorta stupid. yeah- an undercover omega in a job filled to the brim with hardworking alphas. you were doing a great job of convincing everyone that you were just a simple beta. that’s how you landed your job in the first place, but now because of this one stupid mistake, you were bound to lose your job.
“guys…” head manager, a very big alpha man in your words, spoke up. his head tilting and nostrils flaring as he’s looking around the office, confusion on his sharp features “…are you smelling that?” with the attention drawn on your floral scent, you begin to panic as the other alphas begin sniffing around too.
ough,, how do you get outta this situation fast “i think i’ll head out early guys. whoever has their heat is driving me insane it might trigger my rut” how bad of a lie was that. it didn’t matter anyways, dashing out the room with your blazer and bag in, hand rummaging around your trouser pockets as soon as you make it out of the building.
“jesus christ jimin pick up please, please” walking, no- sprinting to the direction of your apartment. you knew your heat was gonna hit you badly. you’ve been taking suppressants for years so having a full blown pheromone disaster for the first time in years was going to be crazy. people were looking at you like you were crazy, but you’d rather have many people look at you weird than have your scent imprinted on the damn streets.
“what’s up?” thank the lord, she answered her phone just in time.
fumbling for your keys trying to shove it into the door lock, you sigh with a heavy breath “uh,, um jimin i’m going into heat- i already feel funny” unlocking the door, you fling yourself into the apartment, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.
“what do you mean going into heat? did you not,,, oh well shit okay give me a few minutes” hanging up the call.
not so much to your surprise, slick was coating your cunt like crazy. to the point where it started to go through your trousers and down your legs. the need you had for your girlfriend was so unbearable.
in a haze, you wobbled to your shared bedroom and grabbed one of her used shirts. her clothes smelt so good, the lingering scent dripping from her clothes was enough to make you keel over and plop onto the bed. you felt yourself getting slicker, your needy cunt needing your alpha to come over and fuck you silly was growing stronger each second she wasn’t in the room with you.
taking matters into your own hands because you couldn’t wait any longer, the feeling of your heat coiling in your stomach was too much. your brain was giving into your biological urges and you needed to get off now or you’d suffer. grabbing a pile of jimin's clothes and making somewhat of a nest on the bed, you surround yourself with the scent of freshly ground coffee. quickly taking off every single piece of clothing, getting right back up to open the box of toys you kept just in case a moment like this ever happened- searching for anything, any toy, that could satisfy you while you wait for your alpha.
whereas jimin on the other hand was worried sick. throughout your two year relationship with her she’d never seen you in a proper heat. like yeah, the heat suppressants and scent blockers helped quite a lot so you were never heavily affected by the symptoms. of course omegas would usually never get this horrible desire to mate this early into their heat, but unfortunately for you, you did have this raging urge to mate so early.
you weren’t so very conscious, you were starting to feel groggy, a feverish high temperature when you touch your head began to appear. this heat was kicking you in the ass and you couldn’t take it anymore- taking the vibrator in your hands and placing it on the highest setting, your hands make there way all the way down to your throbbing clit “a-ah, hnnng jimin come quick…”
so so desperate for her, you pick up your phone hoping that she would answer your calls “please- please pick up jimin”
“i’m almost home baby, do you need something or…”
“just hurry up i’m begging you to come home pleaseee” and who was she to deny your request. stepping on the gas faster knowing that her precious little omega was in need of her alphas presence. she could here your desperation deep within your voice.
“don’t worry i’m about to park soon, just wait for me okay” jimin, knowing how she acted during your very suppressed heats, believed that she could never submit to her instincts since she has never done so when it came to you. that quickly changed as she opened the door, the scent of roses attacking her as she stepped inside. it was a thick scent, it stuck to everywhere and it didn't help that you couldn’t open the windows in time, now your walls were coated in this thick floral scent.
it took jimin a lot of willpower not to give into her urges right there. she felt her rut kicking in and it made her growl in discomfort. never feeling this way in a while, because she took rut suppressants since the two of you started dating, she started growing hazy much like you did. she was a pure blooded alpha which didn’t help either, the intensity of your heat did rounds on her and she had strongest urge to mark you up.
you could hear her footsteps grow louder and louder, her low growls could be heard with the door still shut. quite impressive. she didn’t even say anything when entering, taking off her work clothes only leaving just her boxers on, the line of her hard cock showing through made you whimper out loud. your slick was practically drooling out from your pussy.
in her eyes you were nothing more than a snack to be devoured. her red eyes peered down at you like you were some sort of prey, and you must admit that pure blooded alpha jimin was really arousing to watch. pheromones in the room were strong as hell, your thick sweet floral scent mixing with jimin’s freshly scented coffee smell made a delicious combination. the scent alone driving you two mad.
she went to sit on the bed, still peering at you meek little body. with hunter like eyes she stared you down and licked her lips, “sit up omega” obeying your alpha like the good little omega you are, you sit up from the nest of clothes.
she could hear little puffs of air pour out of your lips, stifling a chuckle as she watches you struggle to sit up straight and look at her straight in the eye. hooking you up with ease, jimin had your body pressed up against hers, sliding one of her hands in between your thighs opening them up with a strong grip “you look so needy for me” a second goes by and she’s shoving you back into the pillow.
“fuck” jimin whispered “how do you smell so good” nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “you smell so tempting, fuck, i can’t-“ she gave your thighs a firm squeeze, exhaling shakily “you need to take me right now, i can’t take it anymore. i need to feel your tight cunt around my cock” her voice low and coarse. in a flash she slipped her cock into your dripping heat, mewls threatening to escape your mouth.
if you weren’t too dazed and horny you would’ve been saying how you’ve waited for this exact moment. jimin didn’t spend anytime fucking around with foreplay, she went straight into pounding your slicked up hole with no mercy. everything she did set your body ablaze, her hands were touching every single inch on your body and it felt so fucking good.
like a ravenous animal she attacked your neck, licking, marking, biting your throat all whilst groaning. her animalistic mind wanting to show that you’re her omega and nobody else’s and by that she had to litter you with marks of any kind, purposely rubbing her scent to mark you as her omega.
every thrust made your back arch slightly off the bed, hitting all the spots you never knew could feel good because of how nice she usually fucked you. you felt how fast and precise her movement was, and it was heavenly.
as your back arched closer to hers, she shifted even more closer to you, practically pinning you onto the bed by hooking both of your legs above her broad shoulders. hitting even deeper then she previously did before, you felt the tip of her cock graze your cervix “mmfh, fuck, fuck- my baby feels so fucking good” saying all that while she’s harshly sinking her teeth into your shoulders.
“s’too much,, ah- jimin, g-good” her urges began to flare up, the only thing on her mind was to mark you up for good. like she was oh so desperate to keep you as hers.
pulling her cock out, in between breaths she instructs you “turn around. y/n turn over for me.. need to- need to fill you up“ taking your legs of her shoulders and flipping you over with ease, again with her predatory gaze, she stares right at your exposed ass in which tempted her to completely destroy you until you can’t stand anymore, leaving you in a state of vulnerability so that she can take care of you.
her alpha instincts were indeed controlling her every movement, the loving and caring alpha you knew was gone. all was left was a dominating alpha who wanted to fuck you till you were filled up with her cum, even if that means you’ll bear her pups.
returning back into your needy cunt, she moans even louder, louder than you’d ever heard. “omega- omega fuck, i’ll mark you. you’re mine, mine only. mine,,, shit you’re mine forever” relentlessly pushing your head into the pillows, her thrusts became frantic and desperate- her movement erratic and messy, it made you love her even more. her alpha side was making you wetter and wetter, bedsheets were covered with your slick.
your moans were insanely unholy. you were screaming and clawing onto whatever you could grab hold onto. her dick growing larger than before and that's when the both of you knew that she was about to knot into you. grabbing her arm for moral support, you dig your nails harshly into them leaving a few minor scars.
right now you looked so fucked out. you were crying, drooling everywhere all while you were screaming out her name. jimin took her time to place a generous amount of bites and hickeys all over your back too. you know… for extra measures of course.
“aah fuck, pleasepleaseplease alpha cum- cum in me” you sobbed out.
“bout to- gonna,, augh fuck cumming” one final harsh thrust into your cunt and her knot swelled as she spilled every ounce of cum into your hole. your cunt clamping down on her as well, essentially locking the two of you. whilst she knotted into you, she swiftly leaned to the back of your neck and inserted her teeth. it hurt a lot, the feeling of her sharp canines sent your nerves on fire, but only a second later and it felt almost orgasmic.
finally she had marked you, but now you were stuck like this for a while. her knot being large enough to just be stuck in this position. both of you were lowkey back into consciousness, the alpha side of her dying down a little bit and the subby omega side of you dissipating.
after a couple of minutes of basking in your orgasm, her knot went down eventually. it was just enough so that you could move slightly which inevitably caused her semen to seep out of your cunt.
“aaah~ can’t… believe.. i… marked.. you..” catching her breath through each word she managed to muster up “that means you’re mine.. forever, right?”
aww big dom alpha jimin was gone, but your cute puppy of a girlfriend was back. you turn around with her cock still in you and see her smiling right at you, her big puppy eyes beaming with glee.
“yeah.. forever”
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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 10 months
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Blood
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Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader
Word Count: 1.7k
Summary: Joel comes home to the smell of blood.
Warnings: PLEASE READ angst without a happy ending, death of an infant, death of a child, main character death, loss of a child (stillbirth), loss of a partner
A/N: Please read the warnings above. If any of them feel even remotely uncomfortable for you, please do not read this fic.
I don't own photos, dividers or characters.
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Over the past twenty years, Joel’s become familiar with blood in ways he’s never wanted. 
He’s known it dripping from his daughter, himself, Tommy. 
One time he tried to list off all the people he’d seen bleed, whether or not he knew their names. 
It smells sickly and sweet. He thinks the smell is the heat of life as it swirls up and out of the wound and into the air. 
He never knew how warm a human being truly was, until that early September night, Sarah panting in his arms. 
It had been an abnormally hot day for the month, the relentless Texas summer still lingering in the air, like a sun-warmed sidewalk, autumn still not fully committed to its task yet. He had been so hot all day, and through the night, as he screamed and ran and ran and screamed. 
There was a faint trickle of sweat going down his back, his shirt sticking to his skin. 
But when his daughter gripped at him, when he pressed his hands against her stomach and pressed down down, the blood had seeped through. It was hot, uncomfortably so. It ran down his wrists and made his fingers slippery, stained his arm, stuck his fine hairs to his skin till the blood crusted over into brown. 
It burned him wherever Sarah touched him, red handprints imprinted onto his skin that he punched Tommy over when he suggested that maybe he find something to wash them off. 
Joel didn’t like blood. Didn’t like it even when it meant his survival, that his heavy boulder of a life would live to see another roll up and down the mountain. 
Even in Jackson, he hated it. 
The sight of it sat in his stomach like hemlock, the smell filled his lungs like tar. 
When Joel saw blood, blood poured from his eyes. 
So, when Joel comes home from patrol, the house he’s worked long and hard to call home, has made sure to keep the slither of blood away from, he has to stumble to the kitchen table to catch his breath. 
The sweet smell hangs in the air like mustard gas. He sees the yellow fog of it twist and turn each corner and hang heavy at his ankles, grave-like and sombre. 
He wants to throw up. 
He follows the fog, follows the smell. The nausea rises and falls inside him like the tide, relentless and without fail. The impassivity of the ocean terrifying. The threat of eternity. 
When Joel opens the door to the bedroom he shares with you, the bedroom he’s worked long and hard at to call his, the bedroom he’s rearranged for you dozens and dozens of times over the past eight months as your nesting had gotten stronger until his back gave out, he stumbles and holds onto the doorframe to catch his breath and finds it doesn’t come to him. 
You’d traded a lot for those floral sheets. Had worked long hours to be able to afford them, and cooked as hearty a meal as you could when you finally got your hands on them. 
There’s so much blood that it’s turned the bedding and your dearly-loved sheets nearly black. You’re holding something grey and covered in blood to your chest, rocking it gently, sweat stuck to your forehead. 
You seem the ghost of the woman he knew. The one who got up and sang off-key without any music for a full house at the Tipsy Bison and stole Joel’s heart in one fell swoop of an eagle’s wing, your voice sounding like wind chimes. There’s a brush of blood on your forehead, the roots of fingers following a palm. 
Your eyes are hazy and delirious but still they light up when they see him, “Hi, Joel.” 
He walks into the room, he hears himself talking to you but doesn’t realise when he managed to do that. He sits down on the bed and it’s warm and wet. A few seconds later, he feels the blood crawl into his jeans. 
You mumble something and with a butterfly of a smile you hold out your arms to him. Joel finds himself stroking the face of his daughter, running his hand down the bridge of her nose, smaller than his pointer finger. 
One of your breasts is out of your shirt, milk runs from it and pools down into an oasis of white. There’s a dribble of it against his daughter’s mouth. 
You’re saying something again, “...eager to see you, Joel, to see her father.” 
Joel doesn’t know where you’ve found the strength to be talking like this. When he touches your forehead, you’re burning. He remembers that one night when he took you out dancing. Where he watched you move like a sirocco from the bar counter and got you drinks to cool off. He remembers pressing his lips against your hot skin, right below your hairline, he remembers your arm, strong and steady as it wrapped around his waist. 
It had been a long time since Joel had done anything of the like in public like that. When he pulled away he found his heart beating out of his chest without control. He was scared you would be able to see it moving against his shirt. A rapid rise and fall like the beat of a rabbit’s foot. 
“Isn’t she pretty, Joel?” 
He swallows and nods, says that she is because it’s the truth. The scrunched up, wrinkled face, colourless and lifeless, is beautiful because she was inside you for eight months and Joel spent those nights he spent with you talking to his daughter inside your womb. He hasn’t seen anything more pretty. 
“Lovely,” his voice is hoarse, and he hates how his tongue is cottony. He wants to say more and he only repeats himself, “Lovely.” 
You shift and groan but keep moving until you place your child in his arms. Your hand remains on her head, brushing your thumb back and forth, “Aren’t you happy?” 
“Why didn't you call for someone?” 
“I love her so much, I didn’t think it possible to love someone like this…” you let out a tired sigh and Joel feels the faint heated brush of a bit of your life pass against his neck. You lay down against your pillow. “She’s not latching…” 
Something inside him hallows out. Joel feels wind churn in every corner of his chest, braiding in and out between his ribs. His bones feel dry, the insides of them empty of any marrow. They hit against one another as the bleeding thing inside him continues to beat. 
“I’ll go get Maria-” 
He wonders why he didn’t think of this sooner, of getting help, why he didn’t run straight out the door when he smelt blood in his house, when he saw you in bed, more of your blood outside of you than in. 
“No,” an urgency hangs against your voice like an anchor. You reach out to him, “Stay with us for now.” 
Joel’s jeans are dipped in your blood, he feels it press mercilessly against his skin. 
He looks down at the baby in his arms, viciously silent, heartlessly still. 
Sarah had a set of lungs on her when she was born. Had screamed so loud it filled the room. 
“Alright.” 
When Joel dips his head to kiss your hairline, you smell like blood. One time, in the low light of your fireplace, before you’d moved in with him, you’d pressed your head against his neck and murmured that you used to use Dior perfume, that it was the only luxury you permitted yourself before the world set itself on fire. 
After he’d have sex with you, you smelt like sweat and Joel and skin. Heated and vibrant with life, Joel would press his front teeth into your upper arm until you pressed him away and called him an animal. 
When you came back from your shifts in the garden, you smelt like earth. Something rich and dark. Some mysterious force of nature clinging against your clothes and body, making you glow. 
He wonders if he would have fallen in love with you back when you sprayed yourself with designer perfume. If you would have let him into your life enough to have him put a piece of himself inside you to grow. Selfishly. 
His daughter lays heavy in his arms. 
He always noticed that, once the haze of the blood had cleared. When the blood had cooled down and the life had left its cells empty and deflated. 
How weighted Sarah was, when she wasn’t carrying herself and entirely dependent on his arms and strength. 
“Joel?” 
Nausea crawls up his throat like a slug, and he swallows it down. “Hm?” 
“Aren’t you happy?” Your voice is meek and small. He feels he could cup it in the palm of his hand and have room to spare. 
“Are you?” A childish smile grows on your face, your eyes glazed over, slightly out of focus. He supposes your happiness is his, and he nods before you respond, “I am. Very much.” 
You’ve made him a father again, after all. 
He leans down and kisses your baby. She’s still warm to the touch. He wonders how long ago this had happened to you. 
He wants to be mad at you for not getting help, for not calling for Ellie or him, or Tommy or Maria or any person in this black hole of a settlement. 
If he said he was happy though, he supposes he’s happy. 
“I’m tired, Joel.” 
“You’ve good right to be.” 
If he closes his eyes, he’ll feel the gentle movements of his daughter against his chest. 
“I think I might sleep.” 
Your lips have lost colour. There’s a dull certainty inside your voice now. 
“You do that, baby.” 
There’s so much blood in his jeans he fears he won’t be able to wash them out, that he’ll have to throw them out along with the mattress and the bedding. 
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Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here.
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surra-de-bunda · 1 year
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Gina Thompson photographed by Raymond Boyd (July 1999). 'Nobody Does It Better' was Gina Thompson's first album. Released in 1996, it featured production by Missy Elliott and Diddy, and featured appearances by Elliott, Diddy, and Craig Mack, among others. Her first single from the album, "The Things That You Do", was a success, peaking at number 41 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts, and number 12 on Billboard's Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Singles & Tracks chart. Her song, "You Bring the Sunshine", was produced by John jon and was included on the NBA @ 50 compilation album as the lead single. It peaked at number 53 on the Hot 100. Also in 1996, Thompson performed background vocals for the song "Cold Rock A Party" by MC Lyte featuring Missy Elliott and Puff Daddy. She also appeared on Lyte's 1998 album Seven & Seven, on the track 'It's All Yours". Later work included "Why Do Fools Fall in Love", a re-imagining of the 1955 Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers hit of the same name. Thompson's "Why Do Fools Fall in Love," featuring Missy Elliott and rapper Mocha, was featured in the 1998 Lymon biopic Why Do Fools Fall in Love and its soundtrack. The singer also appeared on Missy Elliott's second album, Da Real World. By the latter part of 1998, Thompson's debut was certified Platinum by the RIAA after an estimate of one million copies of the album were sold. Thompson's second album, If You Only Knew, was set to be released on September 21, 1999 on Elektra Records through Missy Elliott's The Goldmind Inc. imprint. Two singles were released in advance of the album's anticipated release date: "Ya Di Ya", featuring Elliott, peaked at number 38 on the R&B chart. The album was shelved, and Thompson asked to be released from her contract.
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niki-phoria · 7 months
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SORRY LAST ONE i promise but can you do heeseung x male reader and the song is back to December by Taylor swift. thank you so much 😊
- 🦋
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pairing: heeseung x male!reader (no pronouns used; implied masc reader) genre: angst (??)/songfic word count: 1.0k
includes: exes to lovers, kinda implied non idol heeseung, slightly ambiguous ending i'll write a part 02 if someone asks for it, painting is based on this by peter weber !!
a/n: thank you for requesting !! i'm so sorry reqs have just been sitting in my inbox, i promise i'm working on them. i hope you like it :))
reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33
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the soft noise of shoes scuffling across the floor around you echoes throughout the extravagant art gallery. your gaze remains fixated on the painting in front of you; eyes lingering on each brush stroke and intricate detail. 
you pause at one particular painting hanging on a wall in the corner - almost isolated from the others. two men take up most of the frame; their arms tightly wrapped around one another. their hands cling onto each other’s bodies. the hug feels intimate - as if you’re intruding on the moment by simply observing the portrait. 
memories begin haunting you once again. with no facial features visible, it's far too easy for your still-heartbroken mind to imprint yourself and your ex-boyfriend into the places of the two men.
you shake your head, taking a step back away from the painting as if to escape your own past. turning on your heel, you begin to venture into another part of the museum when something - someone - catches your eye. 
i miss your tan skin, your sweet smile / so good to me, so right
your breath hitches in your throat. heeseung is beautiful. he always has been. even from a distance, you can see that time has been good to him. 
he’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket - the black leather jacket that you had bought him for his birthday. his hair has been dyed so blonde highlights stain his previously ink black fringe. his bangs lay flat against his forehead, styled in the same way they were when you went to school together. 
heeseung’s shoulders have gotten slightly broader, though you aren’t sure if it’s the result of continuous exercise or a change in his posture. his biceps look more toned even in their relaxed position resting against his hips. 
you find yourself admiring heeseung as if he’s another exhibit. despite all of the changes you can pick out, some things always remain the same. his laughter sounds the same as it did years ago when it echoes throughout the building. heeseung reaches over to playfully swat at his friend’s shoulder the way he used to do to you. his eyes crinkle slightly when he smiles. it’s the same smile that you fell in love with. 
and how you held me in your arms that september night / the first time you ever saw me cry
your heart skips a beat for a second when heeseung’s gaze meets yours for a second. you can tell the moment he recognizes you. his eyes widen and he stops dead in his tracks, much to the concern of his friends. you almost feel numb as you immediately spin back around, returning to the painting you had been admiring only a few minutes before. 
heeseung’s steps echo against the floor as he quietly walks over to stand beside you. he glances at the painting in front of you for a few seconds before he turns to face you. “y/n?”
“heeseung.” a nervous smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you turn slightly to face him. the word feels uncomfortable as it leaves your lips. each vowel is curt and stunted. 
an unbearable few seconds of silence pass before your politeness gets the better of you. “it’s good to see you again.”
“you too,” he softly smiles. another period of silence passes before heeseung breaks it again. “how have you been?”
“i’m fine,” you nod. “i got into that university we talked about.” i wish you were there to see it. the words linger on the tip of your tongue before you swallow them down, forcing them back into a deep recess of your mind. 
“congratulations,” heeseung smiles. there’s an almost misplaced familiarity in his tone. “i always knew you would make it in.”
this time you allow yourself to face him. the corners of his lips quirk upwards. he’s proud. you can tell. “thank you. and what about you? how have you been?”
“oh, you know,” heeseung sighs softly. “i’m good. i finally traveled to tokyo.”
some of the tension relaxes from your shoulders. he’s always had an uncanny ability to relax you. “how was it?”
“the trip was great. japan is prettier than i was expecting.” there’s a small beat of silence once again. you debate making an excuse to leave for the sake of avoiding the awkward situation before heeseung speaks again - though this time the words are barely a whisper. “i wish you could’ve come. i kept thinking about how much you would’ve enjoyed it.”
maybe this is wishful thinkin’ / probably mindless dreamin’
you pretend not to notice heeseung’s gaze lingering on the side of your face. the quiet is nearly unbearable; both of you silently staring at the painting before you. facing the artwork is far easier than facing the man you used to love. the man you do love. 
heeseung shuffles slightly to stand a little closer to you. you can just barely feel the faux leather of his jacket brush against the cotton of your oversized sweater. it feels eerily familiar - the silence falling over you as you admire the artwork. 
your hand unconsciously drifts to brush against heeseungs’ before you can stop yourself. you both jump away from each other like a jolt of electricity has passed. “y/n,” heeseung murmurs.
but if we loved again, i swear i’d love you right
heeseung’s eyes are glossy when you meet them. he nervously bites at his bottom lip - twisting the muscle between his teeth for a few seconds. tears sting at your own eyes despite your continuous efforts to blink them away. 
“i miss you,” heeseung finally whispers. his voice shakes as he forces the words out of his mouth. an ache burns in your chest - something you haven’t felt since he left. “i promise i’ll do better. i’ll be better.”
“heeseung,” you choke out. your hands tremble at your sides. 
he swallows once. his gaze never leaves yours. there’s nothing but sincerity reflecting back at you in the darkness of his eyes. “can we please try again?”
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delaber · 2 years
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Back Again (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Summary: When Bucky volunteers for a mission going back in time, it’s with one objective and one objective only: to catch a glimpse of the girl he tragically lost a little over three years ago. But as he soon discovers, he has more to say about the past than he thinks.
Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending), major character death (well, not really, but you catch my drift), loads of feelings on Bucky’s behalf.
Words: 7.5K
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September 6th
It's an easy mission really; go back to before the archive was compromised and bombed to rubbles by the rogue British forces, pull out the Hannigan file and remember the eight random digits stamped on the front page.
- It's fast in, fast out, Steve had said as he had set the date to three years and fifty-two days prior, shooting Bucky a stern glance from across the room as if he knew exactly what Bucky had been planning to do from the very moment he'd volunteered for the mission.
- Relax Steve, I'll be there early morning. The hallways will be empty.
Technically, it's not a lie.
- You could have chosen any other date. S'all I'm saying
- I know what I'm doing
- Just... —don't let anyone see you, okay?
Getting the intel and memorising the numbers is the easy part - it takes Bucky exactly eleven seconds to imprint the eight digit code in his memory like a burn wound and slip unnoticed out the door of the archive - the hard part is the next step. The secret step that Bucky had planned in his head and hadn't even dared subtly hint to Steve although he definitely already knows and isn't exactly happy about. The stern glance alone had told him as much.
To hell with it, Bucky thinks to himself and pushes away the guilt of not having been fully transparent with his best friend, this is important.
He quietly closes the archive door behind him while looking at the borrowed space-time watch on his wrist and realises that he, by chance, manages to click the door shut just as the seconds hand hits the sixth hour mark. It's perfect, it'll make keeping track of time that much easier. Yet, his time is still limited, so without stopping to catch his breath, he's off! He doesn't want to put himself in a situation where the watch will start sending him warnings in order to reach the jump site on time. It'd happened to Barton once, and Fury was... let's just say not happy. He'd benched Barton for eight months following that incident and Bucky really doesn't want to be in the same situation. He doesn't have much to live for outside of missions, and Fury's been looking for a reason to kick him off the team. So no matter what, he will make it back with time to spare!
Quickly striding along the marble tiles, moving as fast as he can while being careful not to hit any of Pepper's potted ferns lining the dark hallway, he's eager to get to the spot - your spot - where he knows you'll sit and watch the sunrise as you used to do every morning. If he remembers correctly - and he knows he is because he's double and triple checked it with Natasha several times over the last few days - you'll be alone at the compound this morning and he'll have at least a few seconds to sneak a peak without worrying if any of his team mates will creep up behind him. A moment just to himself to see your silhouette one last time as you gaze towards the colourful horizon in the distance - but only for a few seconds or the team back home will grow even more suspicious of him and think that he broke rule number one. And he really can't stand when Steve has that disappointed frown on his face. It's fast in, fast out and Bucky intends to keep it that way.
Still walking fast through the hallway, he looks back at the synchronised watch on his wrist and with a happy sigh realises that he still has plenty of time. He should be able to do it without arising too many questions from the team. Should he cut it too close, he can always tell them there was a problem with accessing the archive but that he eventually managed to get around it. Good.
Gingerly stepping out of the compound and out onto the wooden terrace Sam had built when he'd joined the team a few years back, Bucky realises that he's travelled back to a particularly beautiful morning; the colours of the rising sun are blanketing the entire garden in a pink hue, playing with the water lilies on top of Starks koi pond in the far corner, heating up the dew on the terrace's wooden floorboards so they emit a lovely smell from underneath his boots. It's a beautiful setting, he knows that, but truth be told, he has never really cared much for sunrises - they were always too romantic, too nostalgic for someone who didn't like thinking too much about their past, let alone romanticise it. So what really catches his eye isn't the eruption of colours in the morning sky, it's the curled up figure sitting in the middle of the wooden deck. Surrounded by potted plants and with a steaming cup of tea sat next to bare feet as birds chirp lively in the tree crowns above, you're sitting innocent and unknowing of the fate that so cruelly has been bestowed upon you.
Bucky's heart damn near stops in his chest. He hasn't seen you in so long and suddenly you're sitting right in front of him exactly as he remembers you; sweet, beautiful, warm, and with your hair blowing lazily in the wind as you overlook the garden as part of your precious morning routine. You're wearing the flowered sundress he loves and the setting seems so perfect that he for a moment wonders if this is nothing but a fever dream that he half-expects to wake up from any minute soon. But then the wind picks up your scent and it flows through the air until it reaches his nostrils and makes his lungs come back to life with a small gasp. Immediately and uncontrollably, his breathing picks up its pace again and he just wants to put his wobbly legs to use and run over to you.
However, he doesn't have to remind himself of the first rule of time travel; he knows he's not supposed to be seen, yet there you are, and he's dangerously close to considering throwing caution to the wind just so he can give you one last kiss and tell you how much he misses you. Maybe if he talks to you one last time and tells you how much you mean to him, he can finally stop lying sleepless at night, thinking about what could have been if only you'd stayed in this life? That way, at least you would have known. He has never been this tempted to just say fuck it and break the silent promise he'd made to Steve before he'd been sent back in time.
He carefully takes a step forwards, feels how the familiar scent of your shampoo draws him closer and fills his chest with anticipation of talking to you again - of seeing your smile one last time - but he stops himself before he gets too close. He cannot temper with what happened. He of all people should know that no matter what, you cannot change the past. So with an inaudible sigh, he backs away while looking at your hair flowing elegantly in the breeze before he turns around as quietly as possible, his hand already on the door handle to back inside the compound, disappointed that he has to leave so soon, but happy that he at least got to catch a glimpse of you.
"Well," your sweet, sweet voice suddenly sounds from behind him and it makes him stop dead in his tracks. "- Am I supposed to keep pretending I haven't noticed you staring at me or are you gonna join me?"
Shit, his cover is made! This is not good! He did not prepare for this! What the fuck is he supposed to do now? Turn around and answer? Bolt for the jump site? This was not part of the plan! Fuck!
"- Barnes?" you chuckle when he doesn't respond at all.
With closed eyes, he can hear you shuffling a little as if you're turning around to get a better look at him and he gulps hard before he plasters on a brave smile and rotates on the spot. He only has about a millisecond to brace himself for the feelings that are about to coalesce and crash down on him, yet the moment he sees your face, he knows that no amount of time in the world could've ever prepared him for the all-consuming relief he feels in his chest when he sees your face for the first time in little over three years. A welcoming smile is crinkling at the corners of your eyes, your pouted lips are still in position from having practically sung his name only moments before, and your big, beautiful eyes are boring straight through his soulless holster of a body that you for some goddamn unimaginable reason still seem to like. You'd always said that his mere presence made you feel safe and even though he's had three years of getting used to the fact that he couldn't save you, it still cuts like a knife to have you looking at him like that again.
"Hi sweetheart," he breathes quietly and locks eyes with you. It feels as if he's been kicked in the stomach.
"Hi," you smile broadly at the familiar pet name and Bucky feels his heart skip a beat. "- What are you doing here?" You ask softly and cock your head to the side as you take him in, "I thought you and Sam were supposed to be buried deep in the woods of Siberia right now."
"We finished the mission early," he manages to croak even though it feels as if the Sahara desert has been poured straight down his throat.
"Oh, good! How did it go? Did you get the intel?"
He resorts to nodding as he tries swallowing to lubricate his hoarse throat but the saliva just settles as a thick, immobile lump on top of his larynx, making it all so much worse. He hadn't gotten the intel. He had panicked when Steve had called him, and he and Sam had both run for the quinjet, desperate to come home and help search for you among the rubbles of the archive in the strangled hope of finding you alive.
"Of course you did! I don't know what you were fussing so much about - didn't I tell you, you were the right man for the job?" you send him an impressed grin and it makes him feel even worse for having lied to you.
"Yeah," he croaks guiltily and looks away from you. His heart is hammering a mile a minute and he knows he has to get out of here before he reveals too much but how can he leave when your gaze is finally locked on his again? For a moment, he just wants to forget all about how he's gonna lose everything in a couple of hours.
Out the corner of his eye, he can see how you knit your eyebrows tightly together as you take him in. You'd always had a knack for reading him when he didn't want you to - it was what had brought the two of you together in the first place - but this time, it's really inconvenient.
"Hey, are you alright?" You ask tentatively while twitching your fingers a little as if reaching out for him. Of course you've already seen straight through him. " - you look a little pale."
"Yeah," he clears his throat, telling himself to pull it together, "yeah, I'm good."
"Okay..." you nod but you don't look too convinced by his lie. "Why don't you come join me?" you ask and he can't believe himself and his dumb legs but his muscles start moving autonomously and suddenly, he's sitting next to you, silently savouring how you snuggle up to his side as you look straight ahead and up at the morning sky.
At first, he pretends he's interested in the purple streaks above the two of you as well, but after not even five seconds, he turns his face to look at you, hoping to memorise all your features before it's too late.
"Barnes, you're staring," you chuckle while hyper-focusing your gaze on a spot in the growing horizon.
"Sorry," his voice is thick and pained but he keeps his eyes locked on you. How is he supposed to ever look away?
Slowly, you turn your face to the side, your happy grin slowly slipping from off your lips when you notice his blank eyes. "Hey," you put your hand on his knee and he can feel the electricity building underneath your touch, "- are you sure you're alright?"
He just nods, scared that if he opens his mouth, the truth will come out. Why did he not prepare for this?
"Yeah?" you rub over the small hole in his jeans and the lightning burns like a fire in his veins. He feels so guilty.
"Mm-hmm," he blinks rapidly. "I just missed you."
"Four days out and you miss me?" you chuckle happily and move a little closer to him so he can feel the heat radiating from off your body. "You're turning into a sap! - I bet you didn't mention this to Sam."
"He knows," Bucky mumbles and throws an arm around your body so you can put your head on his shoulder.
"Oh he knows now, does he?" you laugh whole-heartedly in disbelief. Back then, for some stupid reason he cannot even remember right now, Bucky had been so desperate to keep his feelings for you private but with the pain and the sorrow that had followed losing you, he suspects the rest of the team figured it out quite soon after, although he never really confirmed it to either of them. "What did he say? Did he tease you?" you giggle as you link your arm with his and grab tightly around right bicep. "- or use it against you or what it is you're so afraid of?"
"No," Bucky croaks as he blinks a few times and curses at himself for his inability to just play it cool. "He misses you too. We all do."
You straighten your back so you can look directly at him. Your smile is still in place but it freezes slightly as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Okay, I'm not gonna ask you again," you chuckle apprehensively, "- but are you a hundred percent sure you're alright? You're a shadow of yourself today."
"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm good," he pulls you close to his chest and kisses the top of your scalp, "let's just enjoy the sunrise, okay?"
"Okay," you nod quietly and look back towards the morning sky, but out the corner of his eye, he can see how your gaze constantly darts back towards his face. "it's just... Well, since you seem to have absolutely no intensions of bringing it up yourself, I have to ask..." You cock your head to the side and Bucky can feel his breathing speeding up, not sure what you're about to confront him with. "- What happened to your hair?" you laugh sweetly, your lips spreading even further apart in your gorgeous signature grin as you search his face.
He should be relieved that that's what you're wondering about, but it's a detail he hadn't even considered. He had insisted on the long hair back when you'd dated him and now he has no good answer as to why he chose to cut it all off. 
"Did something life-altering happen that I don't know about or did you just feel like suddenly chopping it off?" you joke. Or at least, he thinks you're joking.
"Uh - I - uhm - I just cut it," he says and uncomfortably shift his weight around, eager to have you look anywhere else than his face. Truth be told, he had cut it because something terrible and life-altering had happened to him but he's not about to reveal your fate to you.
"You just cut it?" you arch an eyebrow in disbelief. "On a mission? Was the intel located at a salon?" you laugh again.
"Yeah, well... I figured it was time, you know?"
"Hmm, yeah... Well, it looks good on you," you chip happily and send him a dreamy smile, "but then again, you always look good. It's annoying."
"Mmh," he forces a smile.
Your gaze wanders over his face once more and you push together your eyebrows as you take him in while trying to understand what's going on inside his head. You definitely still think he's acting beside himself.
"You promised you wouldn't ask again," he tries joking to diffuse the tension between you and it seems to work because it immediately has you smiling.
"Don't worry, I won't..." you press your lips tightly together and reach up to run a hand through his short hair just to feel him underneath your fingertips. "Mmh, I missed you," you hum.
Your small, delicate fingers caressing his scalp is a simple touch of warm intimacy that Bucky had completely forgotten the sensation of, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from crying at the gentleness if it. He never thought he'd feel this again, and there had been many nights since the bombing where he'd cried not only for the loss of you, but for the loss of intimacy as well.
You rake your hand through his hair again, and he can't believe it, but for a short second while you're running your fingers through his short strands, he actually envies the version of himself who's bickering with Sam somewhere in rural Russia right now. The version of himself who's completely oblivious as to what will happen within the next twelve hours. That guy just thinks he's going home to scalp kisses and head scratches by his love at the end of the mission... Bucky doesn't, however, envy the grief that the other version will have to navigate through for the next couple of years until he can finally feel this kind of intimacy again. For a few second he, himself, is the lucky one.
Even with closed eyes, he can sense the deep look you're giving him and although he wants to sit like this forever and revel in your love, he can't risk giving himself away. "Sweetheart, you're missing it..." he says in a strangely throaty voice and nods towards the horizon, not sure what outcome he's hoping for. He just knows he doesn't want to take away your last sunrise ever.
"I don't care," you whisper and rake a hand through his hair one more time. "I know you say you're alright, but you're not... What happened to you?"
"Nothing," he mumbles.
"It's not nothing..." you say softly and scratch at his neck until he finally opens his eyes again. "Why won't you tell me?" you whisper and press in on his aching jaw to get him to unclench it.
He reaches out and intertwines his fingers with the hand you have lying in your lap. "I'll tell you tomorrow, okay? Let's just sit here and enjoy this moment for a little while..."
"If you say so," you nod disappointedly as you look down at your joined hands.
He's so lost, so confused as to what to do now that he doesn't even register how your gaze briefly stops at the familiar watch he's wearing, so when you look up at him again, it's with a foreign, sudden type of sadness he doesn't know where comes from. Your eyes are searching his face, stopping at several fix points that you keep coming back to over and over again: his shorter hair line, the crows feet surrounding his blue irises, the crease above his nose that has only grown more prominent over the recent years, the newly acquired wound on his chin that has turned into a white scar because he hadn't put sunscreen on it last summer. All telltales of time having passed since the last time you'd seen him.
He can practically hear the gears turning in your head before your eyes soften considerably and you give out a sad sigh. "Hmm," you hum quietly and shoot him a despondent look he can't really place. "What are you doing here?
"...What do you mean?" he asks sincerely and presses his eyebrows together as he looks down into your sad eyes.
You give him a second to properly answer your question but when he doesn't, you sigh again and slowly lean forwards while pressing your palm to his face, caressing his bearded chin. "You're not my Bucky..." you say quietly as you stroke his cheekbone.
His breath catches in his throat and his heart immediately starts racing. "W-what?"
"You're not my Bucky" you repeat resolutely while huge eyes are still searching his face, "what are you doing here."
"I don't understand."
"James..." you say softly and cock your head to the side.
He remembers this. It's always James when you want him to speak the truth.
"I could tell something was off from the minute I saw you but the watch gave you away," you nod down to his wrist that is still lying in your lap before your soft gaze finds his eyes again. "Time hasn't been kind to you, has it?" you whisper while lovingly stroking his cheek.
"W-what?" He doesn't even have it in him to protest more than that. Not when you sound so sure of yourself.
"How does it happen?" you ask him gently, overtly controlled. He should have known this; of course you'd figure it out...
"How does what happen?" he blinks desperately, not sure what to do now. He can't be the one who tells you. He can't.
You lower your chin without moving your eyes from his. "I die, don't I? That's why you're here."
He continues blinking rapidly, his breath still caught in his throat as his lungs start heaving for air. Just thinking about it hurts in his chest.
"It's okay," you whisper, your eyes still huge as you try and calm him down. "What - uhm - what happens? Will we be together when it occurs?"
"No," he whimpers and throws away his very last hope of fooling you into believing that it isn't the reason why he's here. "I won't be home yet."
"You won't be home yet..." you repeat in a low voice and Bucky sees how your eyes grow wide as you slowly manage put two and two together. "Buck -- when does this happen?" you ask shakily and for the first time, he detects a trace of fear in your voice.
He gives out a short whimper in reply and clutches your hand tightly as he feels the tears well in his eyes. How is he supposed to tell you that you have less that twenty-four hours to live?
"When?" you repeat quietly and hold on to him even tighter than before.
"Sweetheart, don't make me say it," he avoids looking at you.
"Don't you think I have a right to know...?"
"Of course you do it's just--"
"-When?"
Bucky takes a deep, ragged breath before he confirms the very thing you suspect and fear. "This afternoon, a bomb will go off in the West Wing."
"This afternoon?" You drop the grip you have on his hand while staring at him in shock. "I'm going to die... today?”
"Don't - don't say it like that," he whines. "Please, it's so unfair! You have so much to live for and it's all taken away from you just like that. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat but I'm not here, and I won't be here before it's too late. I'm so sorry sweetheart. I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay, Buck." With huge eyes and your mouth hanging wide open, you stare at him as you let the shock settle down around you. "It's okay... it's okay..." you eventually say and force-close your locked jaw as you rub a hand over your face. "I'm sorry, but - uh - I need to know. What exactly happens? Who else will be here?"
"We're all away," Bucky sighs with regret, "It's just you and Natasha."
Immediately, you cover your mouth with your hand, "Nat!" you gasp, even more shocked by this than by the news of your own passing.
"Nat's fine," Bucky immediately interrupts and grabs your hand again, holding it tight, "she's going to be at the gym."
"...And me?"
"I don't know sweetheart," he whispers, "Nat told us that you wanted to get some work done so you skipped out on your training. We think you may be at the centre of the blast. We - we never find you," he breathes through his nose to keep himself controlled. He can feel the tears pressing in on his eyeballs again when he thinks of the empty coffin they had to bury.
"At least it's quick then," you say and turn your face towards the garden that is still bathed in the pink hue from the rising sun. "I'm going to die today," you say matter-of-factly with your gaze fixed on the sky. "huh... So we never get to go on that date on Friday?
"No sweetheart..."
"- And we've already had our last kiss?
He nods. "Yeah..."
"I'm sorry," you whisper while staring at him with sad eyes, "I'm sorry you have to go through all that alone."
"I'm not alone," he mumbles and looks down at his feet. "Steve tries to talk to me. Sam too."
"But you don't accept," you chuckle sadly while shaking your head from side to side while playfully rolling your eyes at him, "God, you're so stubborn!"
"I know," he nods, "but it's too painful to talk about even now."
"How much time passes?" you look back at him while taking a deep breath. "How many years ahead are you right now?"
"It doesn't matter," he gulps guiltily. He knows how this part of the conversation will go.
"James..."
"Three," he sucks in a bit of air, hoping that it isn't that much time in your eyes.
"Three years?" you whine, your eyes huge with the shock of his confession as you clutch your chest, "Baby, you have to move on!"
Immediately, his heart cracks in two and he can no longer hold back the tears that he finally lets flow freely down his cheeks without trying to stop them. "No, I can't," he sniffles quietly, "I don't want to. I just wish you were still here. I miss you so much, you have no idea. I feel so guilty for being away. I think about it all the time."
"Bucky," you say softly and put a hand underneath his chin, wiping away a few tears and forcing him to look back up at you, "- you couldn't have done anything anyway. You know what I'm like when I put my mind to something. If you'd been here, you would probably have gone to the gym with Nat because I would still have gone to the West Wing to finish up work. It wouldn't have changed anything."
"But I never even get to tell you how I feel."
"Bucky, look at me," you whisper with a small smile and lean forwards, "it's okay. You don't have to tell me. I already know." You put your forehead to his and smile softly at him, "- and I hope you know that I feel the same about you."
With a gulp, he nods.
"Then kiss me," you wipe away another of his tears and tilt your head.
He closes his eyes and finds your mouth immediately, pushes himself impossibly close to your body and feels the softness pour over him as you press your pillowy lips to his in the most heartfelt kiss he's ever experienced. He tries to let his love shine through as raw as possible so there will be absolutely no doubt how much he loves you but from the way you're holding on to him, he can feel that you truly do already know. Your hand is warm against his face and it causes his heart to calm down its rapid beating while your lips move like silk on top of his.
"Mmh, sweetheart," he whispers into your mouth and feels every inch of you engulf him in love and bravery. Suddenly, he's free, so liberated from the grief that has been hanging over his head for so long that he completely forgets that he's on borrowed time.
The loud sounds coming from his wrist watch that suddenly begins beeping out of nowhere is the only terrible reminder of the setting he's in - that there's a deadline hanging over his head if he ever wants to make it home again.
"You're cutting it close, huh?" you say quietly as you reluctantly break off the kiss and place your forehead back on his. You both know that the watch only starts beeping when there's less than two minutes left to get to the jump site.
"I don't care," he shakes his head, not sure what else to say as he feels reality come crashing down on him again.
"You're really gonna let it go to red?" you chuckle as if impressed. "You know that Fury's gonna tear you a new one, right?"
"I don't care."
"I bet you don't," you chuckle and he joins you in smiling, revelling in the odd sensation that it brings to his cheeks to chuckle like this again. "I'm glad you found me, Barnes."
"Me too, sweetheart," he whispers as the smile slips from off his face again. "I wish there was something I could do..."
"You're here right now, aren't you?" you smile and briefly kiss him again, "I'm glad you came back, even just for a few minutes."
"It's not enough to say goodbye..." he mumbles and laces his fingers with yours.
"Oh, but this? This is not a goodbye," you chuckle quietly while shaking your head, "it's an I'll see you later."
"If you say so," he nods without really accepting your explanation and ignores the incessant beeping from his watch that only grows louder and louder by the second.
"You should probably get back, don't you think? Wouldn't want you to miss your mark and have you stuck here with me."
"Mmm," he whimpers and desperately kisses your knuckles with closed eyes.
"Chin up Barnes," you chuckle at him, "- the sky is the most beautiful I've ever seen it and I had a good run. I'll be okay."
"I'll miss you," he says as the watch starts blinking angry red, warning him that he only has thirty seconds left.
"I'll miss you too," you say and squeeze his fingers tightly before you let go of him, "you have twenty-seven seconds. Promise me you'll make it back, okay?"
"Okay," he nods and slowly stands up, taking one last look at you before he walks across the wooden floorboards and back towards the door he'd entered through.
"Hey Barnes?" You say when his hand reaches the doorknob and it immediately makes him turn around to see you standing on your feet, looking at him with a resolute look in your eye, your hands determinedly balled to fists by your side. "You say you're three years ahead. What date is it where you're from?"
"Uh... September sixth?" he says, a bit confused as to why that should matter but he's not about to deny a dying woman an answer to her question. "Why?"
"Just out of curiosity," you nod towards his angry watch, "twenty seconds."
"I know."
"I'll see you later, okay?"
"I'll see you baby," he whispers and physically feels his heart crack even worse in his chest as he takes a definitive last look at you. The sun is coming up behind you now, marking the worst day of Bucky's existence and all he can do is let it happen.
September 7th
He didn't even think it possible, but it's even worse than the first time around.
He'd collapsed on the floor the minute he'd exited the quantum realm, tears and snot blurring his vision as he'd fallen to his knees, his heart aching so horribly in his chest he'd thought he was dying. He wasn't. Unfortunately.
Steve had been there in an instant, on his knees beside Bucky, holding him tight, making sure he didn't pass out from hyperventilating, trying to calm him down.
The rest is a blur. Bucky isn't sure how Steve managed to manoeuvre him to his bedroom on the tenth floor and he doesn't even remember if Steve had been there when he'd finally fallen asleep, dreaming of you and the feeling of your body in his arms, your lips touched to his.
When he wakes up the next morning, it takes him a minute to remember that you're still gone, and in that moment, he isn't sure if seeing you again was liberating or just pure torture. If only he could've done something to fix what had happened....
"Buck?" Steve's voice immediately sounds from beside him as he starts shuffling a bit in the sheets, eager to get the cold sweat to stop pooling at his forehead. He turns around on the bed and meets the disheveled face of Steve who's occupying the chair where Bucky usually puts his dirty clothes, his eyes red with sleep deprivation, his hair sticking up in all possible directions.
"Stevie..." Bucky croaks and clears his throat as he takes in the state of his best friend who's clearly stayed by his side all night. "What are you doing here?"
"As if I was just going to leave you," Steve sighs solemnly and rubs his eyes. "How are you?"
Bucky sits up straight and lets his head fall back against the headrest. He can still see the broken look you'd sent him when he'd revealed your terrible fate to you. "You know how I am."
"Yeah..." he sighs again and looks away. "I'm sorry Buck but you're gonna have to talk about it."
"I know I broke a rule. You and Fury can yell at me tomorrow, okay?" Bucky says quietly and tries to block out the mental image of what'd happened to you. "I just need some time."
Steve reaches out his hand and lets it fall on top of Bucky shoulder. "Buck, I'm - I'm not gonna yell at you. I just want you to finally open up to me, you've been so closed off since it happened. I know what you had with her was... special. And I know why you went back and talked to her, I've been tempted to do the same many times. Trust me."
"I just wanted to see her," Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip, desperately trying to get his breathing under control again. "I never intended to talk to her, it just... happened. I think I'd forgotten how observant she was."
"I know," Steve pushes down on Bucky's shoulder and shoots him a sympathetic smile. "How much did you tell her?"
"...Everything."
"And how did she take it?"
"She was really brave about it. I think I took it worse than she did... I don't know, I'm gonna need some time to process it all..."
"Mmh," Steve nods in quiet desperation, not sure what to do or say to make Bucky feel better. "I'll give you some space then, okay pal? I'll check in again in a couple of hours."
"Please don't," Bucky sighs and lays his head back down on his pillow, his mind already overflowing with every memory of you. All the way back from the first time he'd seen you to the point where he'd told you you were about to die. Shit.
He's so lost in thought he almost doesn't hear the hurried footsteps coming from the hallway, and he barely even registers the door being kicked open as Sam yells his name. "Bucky! Bucky, wake the hell up! You have to come downstairs! Now!"
"Sam?" Steve questions, already on his feet, ready to run to whatever emergency Sam is warning. "What's going on?"
Sam's eyes are wide open, his mouth falling agape in disbelief as he quietly chuckles and frantically waves Bucky and Steve over to him, "Come on! It's unbelievable! You have to see it for yourselves!"
"I don't care what it is, I'm not coming," Bucky mumbles from the bed and pulls his comforter closer around his chest, praying for Sam and Steve to leave him alone.
Sam bends down and picks up the nearest pair of jeans, throwing it over to Bucky on the bed. "Put on some pants, man, and come down stairs. Now!"
Bucky looks to Steve for help but he merely shrugs before he throws Bucky a black hoodie from underneath the chair he'd been occupying only moments before.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he mumbles under his breath and reluctantly swings his legs over the side of the mattress, well knowing that his two friends won't leave him alone until he's seen what Sam's fussing about for himself.
"Come on!" Sam urges and impatiently taps the doorframe to Bucky's room with his foot as Bucky slowly pulls on the jeans and hoodie just to annoy him.
"Sam what's going on?" Steve finally asks again when they're all three standing in the elevator, zooming towards the ground floor.
"Just... just wait, okay?" he says rapidly, clearly excited about what's going on. It's giving Bucky a goddamn headache. "You're not gonna believe me anyway!"
Bucky gives out an annoyed sigh as he throws his head up against the back wall of the elevator, closing his eyes. He needs a fucking aspirin.
"You good?" Steve turns to him while Sam continues his nervous-tapping against the floor.
"I'm about to strangle Sam if that's what you’re worried about..."
Sam stops tapping and opens his mouth to retort, but is interrupted by a loud ding as the doors slide open and instead settles for an annoyed look sent in Bucky's direction before he turns around. Immediately, the three men are met by Natasha's loud squeals coming from the next room, causing Steve to half-jog out of the elevator and through the empty hallway while Bucky slouches after him, counting the seconds until he can finally be alone again and wallow in his misery.
Steve stops in the doorway to the next room, his jaw practically dropping to the floor as soon as he sees what Natasha's so worked up about. It only takes him exactly two seconds of utter shock before he composes himself enough to turn his head and look Bucky straight in the eye. "Buck... it's..." his voice trails off as he looks back at the scene unfolding before him.
"What's happening?" Bucky asks curiously for the first time, and can feel how his heart picks up its pace as he dreads the sight that will meet him when he catches up to Steve.
"Come on, man," Sam says and puts his hand between Bucky's shoulder blades, urging him to move forwards so he can see for himself.
It feels as if it's taking him an eternity to reach those last few yards across the hallway, and when he's finally by Steve's side, he's so worked up, he isn't even sure if his mind is playing tricks on him or not. Because there, in the middle of the room, Natasha is standing in a tight embrace with none other than ...you?
Bucky blinks a few times, takes a step forwards, not sure if he's still dreaming.
You have tears running down your cheeks as you lock eyes with him over your best friend's shoulder and you can't stop the broad smile that spreads on your lips. "Buck," you whisper and immediately let go of Natasha who sniffles and steps to the side so Bucky can see all of you.
There you are. Standing in all your glory, unharmed, undead, living and breathing, and singing his name so sweetly as you take a step towards him, your feet shaking nervously underneath you.
"Are you seeing this too?" Bucky whispers to Steve though he doesn't dare move his eyes away from your form in fear of losing you if it turns out to just be a cruel illusion.
"Yeah, Buck," Steve's voice is shaking by his side, "I see her too."
"Buck," you laugh through the tears that continue to roll down your cheeks. "It's really me," you lift your hand and reach out for him.
"Oh my god," he whispers and strides across the room. Immediately, you're in his arms and he's crying your name as he touches you all over your body to make sure you're really there, squeezing you against his chest, kissing the top of your scalp, running his hands over your back, "I don't believe this!"
"Hi baby," you whisper and kiss his neck, his ear, his cheek. "I'm here. It's okay, I'm here."
"You're alive?" he sniffles and briefly holds you out at an arms length before he pulls you close to his chest again, "how? We all thought you were dead!"
"I'm sorry," you whisper and hold him as close as possible as you mumble against his chest. "I couldn't give you any signs of life. I couldn't risk it."
He puts a hand under your chin and urges you to look up at him. "Risk what?" he frantically searches your face, voice shaking, still desperate to confirm you're really here.
You put your hand on his chest as you always do to calm him down and send him a deep, intimate look. "I had to wait until after September 6th of this year to see you again. I'm sorry."
"I - I don't understand..." he says and strokes his thumb over your cheek.
"Come here," you break off the tight embrace and lead him to a small bench in the corner of the room, sitting him down beside you. "What you did that day saved me," you grab his hand and wrap it in your tiny fingers, "I would have been in the West Wing when the bomb went off if you hadn't said anything... But because of you, I left early. Like you said I would, I told Nat I couldn't come with her to the gym because I was going to finish up a mission report, so I waited until after she'd started her work-out to leave. I couldn't write you a note, or give you any sign of what'd happened because you needed the motive to go back in time to save me. I had to keep you grieving or you never would've come, so I just... left... I've been hiding in a small village in the mountains of Spain, waiting for this exact date. That's why you never found a body among the rubble."
"W-what? ...but we - we searched for weeks," he whispers, not sure why that's the detail he decides to focus on. He's not sure his shocked brain can fully comprehend your confession. He's having trouble just moving his shaking limbs. "You're alive..."
"I know. I'm sorry, baby. But it was necessary."
"You're alive..." he repeats quietly, the realisation slowly dawning upon him. "I don't believe it..." he whispers and pulls you close to his chest again as the tears start stinging in his eyes, "you're alive..."
"Yeah, I'm alive," you sniffle against him and hug him just as tightly as you'd done what was only mere hours ago for him, three years and fifty-three days for you. "You saved me."
"Oh my god," he cries into your neck, kissing your shoulder, "I've missed you so much!"
"You've been so brave," you whisper against him and caress the back of his head, "I'm so proud of you."
"No, I've been a pathetic mess. These guys can testify to that," he mumbles and points to over his shoulder where he can hear Sam and Nat chuckle quietly. "I never thought I'd see you again."
"I know," you smile sadly, "seeing you like that that day was heartbreaking. I knew I had to do something or you wouldn't survive it."
"I am so glad you did," he kisses your knuckles and scoots a little closer to you. "I mean, I knew you were stubborn but I never took you for such a cosmic rule-breaker, sweetheart," he smiles through the tears, and shoots you an impressed glance, "Fury's gonna tear you a new one."
You shoot back your head with laughter and sweetly wrap his hand up in yours. "Yeah, thank God that's never stopped me before," you giggle.
He never thought he'd sit like this with you again, and when you finally lean in close and kiss him, he promises himself that he'll never let you go.
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ildarotyrannus · 3 months
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In the spring of last year, I made several color reconstructions of marine reptiles for a thesis and presentation (it was about the reconstruction of marine reptiles) for a conference that was held in Ulyanovsk in September. The drawings were done in ballpoint pen (lineart) and Paint Tool Sai 2.0 (shadows and colors).
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The first is reconstruction of Mixosaurus cornalianus, a widespread small Triassic ichthyosaur. I had already drawn a Mixosaurus in water earlier and even wanted to use it in the article, but later changed my mind, deciding that lateral reconstruction would better convey the appearance of soft tissues. This earlier drawing can bee seen here:
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Both pieces are based on the fin impressions described in 2020 from a specimen found in the Middle Triassic rocks of the Bezano formation, Italy (www.researchgate.net/publicati…). This specimen has preserved the tissues of the dorsal and caudal fins. Both prints have thin collagen filaments, and at the base of the caudal fin, it was possible to detect the remains of smooth, scaleless skin. The fins have a triangular shape, and the dorsal one is associated with 15-23 trunk vertebrae. In other words, its position turned out to be more
forward then in reconstructions done before his paper.
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The second is lateral reconstruction of the metriorhynchid Cricosaurus albersdoerferi, belonging to a widespread genus that inhabited the shallow seas of future Europe, Central America and Argentina. It was not a particularly large animal, reaching from 2 to 3.2 meters in length. Like the first reconstruction of a Cricosaurus, which I performed in the spring, this drawing is based on a specimen that preserved a large volume of soft tissue on the tail (upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia…). Also shown here is the salt gland in the antorbital fenestra, the presence of which was previously indicated in Cricosaurus araucanensis and Dakosaurus andiniensis. The spring work with C. albersdoerferi can be seen below:
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Plesiosaurs are mentioned too. This is reconstruction of the polycotylid Mauriciosaurus fernandezi from the Late Cretaceous of Mexico. A complete reptile skeleton preserved in fine-grained rocks was described by a team of paleontologists in 2017: www.researchgate.net/publicati… There are five types of soft tissue imprints around the bones. Among them are dark material, probably left from the walls of the peritoneum, dark gray traces of blubber and impressions of possible small scales. The impressions show that the animal's belly was covered with rectangular scales, which were mixed with inclusions of small fragments closer to the limbs. The scales of the living reptile were almost indistinguishable, so that the skin looked smooth. This beautifully preserved specimen showed that plesiosaurs had much more soft tissue than previously thought. The tail was especially fleshy. Fat deposits created a smooth, streamlined shape, ideal for an agile swimmer.
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The last thesis drawing is this reconstruction of the famous Early Jurassic ichthyosaur Stenopterygius quadriscissus. Many of its skeletons of amazing preservation were found in the fine-grained limestones of Holzmaden, Germany. Some of them were discovered back in the 19th century, which made it possible to quickly correct previous ideas about ichthyosaurs. The Stenopterygius specimens retained soft tissue prints in the form of a bacterial film, which made it clear that they were fish-like creatures with a dorsal fin and a crescent tail. They re still attract the attention of researchers. In 2018, the skin structure of one partial specimen was studied: www.researchgate.net/publicati… A fossilized blubber was described, similar in microstructure to that of marine mammals and leatherback turtles. This led to the conclusion that ichthyosaurs were reptiles with a high metabolism, which required fat insulation. Blubber allowed ichthyosaurs to travel across the oceans, swimming even into the cold polar waters. In addition, this Stenopterygius had pigment cells - melanophores. They were absent on the ventral side, which means that the Stenopterygius had a dark back and a light belly. This countershading coloring is typical of today's marine vertebrates and serves as a camouflage.
I did also three works in fully traditional style, with pens and pencils, but I'll show them in the separate post. :)
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bimbo-ho · 4 months
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random true crime facts pt.1
Doing this by people/events.
Don’t @ me ik since of these are basically knowledge
Ted Kaczynski
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- Is a Gemini, born may 22nd, 1942
- smelled like spoiled milk
- Unabomber=university and airline bomber
- graduated high school and Went to Harvard at 15
- graduated at 25
- Suspected to be apart of MK ultra
- iq of 167
- youngest professor to be hired at the University of Californian at Berkeley
- Left the university in 1969
- After seeing several of his favorite spots bulldozed or paved over, he started his first foray into ecoterrorism with small acts of defiance against the local developers (real asf)
- all Construction of the bomb was done by hand, no power tools were involved and made the tools he needed by hand
- His case reached the FBI’s desk in 1979, when he placed a bomb in the cargo hold of a commercial airplane
- the airplane bomb didn’t go off
- John Hauser received a bomb containing makeshift shrapnel and died from his injuries.
- had a cool off period and only sent one device between 1986 and 1993
- 1993 killed his second victim
- Was the most expensive cases in FBI history
- the manifesto was published on September 19 and with an appeal for tips
- Where in the manifesto he talked about the consequences of the industrial revolution that have divorced humans from their natural environment and laid out his solution, calling for the inevitable revolution of the people against the technology taking over their lives and a return to primitive life
- His brother thought it was him who wrote the manifesto because kazynski wrote “You can’t eat your cake and have it too” instead of “you can’t have your cake and eat it too”
- David hired a private investigator to gather evidence and compile a dossier that was turned over to the authorities in February of 1996
- Although his lawyers urged him to plead insanity to avoid facing the death penalty, he refused to do so
Richard Ramirez
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- A Pisces born on a leap year. February 29th, 1960
- after he was knocked unconscious by a swing at age 5, he began experiencing epileptic fits
- Ramirez smelled like wet leather
- Youngest of 5 children
- Parents were Mexican immigrants
- when he was 12 years old, a cousin who was a Vietnam war veteran showed him pictures of Vietnamese women he had allegedly raped, tortured, and killed
- The following year witnessed the same cousin fatally shoot his wife
- Slept in the cemetery to avoid the abuse of his dad
- Was first called “the walk in killer” and “the screen door intruder”
- Was not the original night stalker
- Loved AC/DC favourite song was the night prowler
- Stabbed a women with a butter knife
- Stomped a women to death left a shoe imprint on her face
- Left his AC/DC hat at the scene of one of his crimes
- A juror Phyllis Singletary, did not show up at the courtroom and was found shot in her apartment
- Ramirez Threatened to Shoot His Prosecutor
Jeffrey dahmer
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- Is a Gemini born May 21st, 1960
- To Lionel dahmer a chemist, hard worker and achiever and Joyce dahmer
- Mother was in 20+ medication
- Had a history of injuries as a child
- Had to wear lifts on his shoes when he was six, had to wear casts on his legs for four months, treated for an ear infection, got pneumonia, started developing a hernia had an operation to fix it when he was six
- Was never the same after the hernia surgery his dad said he seemed smaller, more vulnerable, he grew more inwards, sitting quietly for long periods, not stirring and emotionless
- They let Jeffrey name his little brother and he named him David
- David has changed his name and doesn’t want to associate with Jeffrey
- Jeffrey was neglected completely when David was born
- Geographically isolated from everyone else in the town
- At six he started collecting road kill and dead animals
- It’s alleged that he was sexually assaulted at this time Lionel and Jeffrey said it’s not true
- Would play infinity land, was extremely complicated, they’re were sticks that represented men and the “men” disappear one by one in a vortex - He did have afew friends
- They would play “ghost in the graveyard”
- He took the remains of a fetal pig home and kept the skeleton in grade 9, starting branching out killing dogs and cats. All he knew was he wanted to see what the insides looked like
- Would show up to high school drunk and Was once asked what was in his water bottle that was filled with alcohol and he responded with “this is my medicine”
- Was obsessed with a jogger as a teenager and planned to attack him with a bat but the day he planned to the jogger didn’t show up
- started heavily drinking at 14
- had a dead body in his bed when the police gave him his 14 year old victim back
- Showered ontop of decomposing bodies in his apartment
- “only killed the pretty ones”
- worked at a chocolate factory and stored severed heads in his locker
- got fired from the chocolate factory cuz he smelled so bad
- police smelled his apartment at first and said it didn’t smell like human decomposition but shit
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dreamersbcll · 9 months
Text
“Ink Blots”
for @krikeymate
3/5
——————————————————————————
May 19th, 2018
Dear Sam,
Two years. Two whole years. You got up and left. No surprise. I’m still where you left me.
Every day I wake up, and there’s five seconds of bliss before I remember. You’re there for a heartbeat, nothing more. I can almost feel your breath on my cheek and your hand brushing through my hair
I can picture it all. You are holding me, your chin buried into my shoulder. I am holding your hands as they wrap around me. It’s imprinted on my brain.
Amber tells me every day that I need to move on. That you’re long gone. That when you were here, you were never really here. It’s like a broken record.
Yet, She’s right in some ways. You always chose any other substance but me.
But I don’t want to admit that she’s right. She would take it and run. I love her, but she’s a little too intense sometimes. We’ve watched the Stab movies every night since you left like clockwork. I don’t get it.
Please come home. The back door is always open. I don’t lock my bedroom door anymore. You can slip in.
Love, Tara.
——
June 15th, 2018
Dear Samantha,
Formal right? I found your birth certificate and some other documents today. Well, Amber did. She looked through my shit earlier, claiming she “wanted to see if you took your personal information.”
Spoiler: you didn’t. But I don’t know why you would. I’m pretty sure just a driver’s license is needed to disappear.
Anyways, I put your shit into a box and hid it under the floorboards. You’ll find it one day, I’m sure.
I couldn’t find my information. Maybe I’m not a Carpenter. That would be something, huh? Being able to escape this hell family line.
A girl can dream.
Tara Carpenter (maybe).
——
September 27th, 2018
Dear Sam,
High school sucks. Sophomore year sucks. I hate this place.
I don’t want to do anything. I hate math. I’m not good at history. I can’t remember shit.
All the teachers give me looks. Looks of sympathy, disgust, suspicion. I think they recognize the family name. School wasn’t your thing, but it would’ve been nice if you didn’t fuck it up for me. I can barely keep up with the shit they throw at me.
The only one who’s forgiving me is my English teacher Ms. Smith. She has kind, gentle brown eyes, just like yours. Surprisingly, she’s the only teacher who believes in me.
We read books a lot. She helps mentor me in critical writing skills.
Who knows. Maybe I’ll write a book and make us famous, just like that Gale Weathers lady.
Tara
——
November 16th, 2018
Dear Sam,
Do you ever wonder if Mom was ever good? Did we make her this way?
Did I make her this way?
I’m so sick of cleaning up broken bottles and piles of puke. I’m so tired of watching her wither away right before my eyes. I can’t even save her. I can’t tell her to stop. I can’t get her to stop.
Begging and pleading never worked. Trust me; I’ve been trying it with you every night. I think God, or whatever deities I pray to, stopped listening years ago.
It’s strange. First, Dad leaves. Then you. And now Mom had her foot halfway out the door. Is it me? Do you all leave because of me?
What the hell did I do?
Confused, Tara.
——
December 14th, 2018
Dear Sam,
Sweet sixteen. Happy birthday to me. Not that you cared.
Mindy and Chad decorated my locker. Amber bought me flowers and a cake. Ms.Smith gave me a new journal. Mom went on a business trip to Singapore.
And… I’m sixteen. I have a handful of people that care. But they don’t matter. They don’t fucking matter.
I want you, Sammy. You promised to teach me how to drive. You promised to take me for my license. I’ve had to learn how to drive with Amber. And she’s taking me for my license tomorrow. Everything you were supposed to do.
But I suppose this is what you wanted. You would’ve come back if it wasn’t.
I hope wherever you are sucks. I hope you feel my disappointment and anger from here. I’m furious with you. I hate it.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Tara
——
January 1st, 2019
Dear Sam,
I’m drunk and I miss you and I wish you were here I wish you loved me I want you to love me come back come back come back
Love Tara
——
February 18th, 2019
Dear Sam,
I got picked for the school newspaper—advice column. I laughed in Ms. Smith’s face when she offered it to me.
Advice column. As if I would be the one to give advice. I can’t get anyone to stay.
Did you hear that Robbie Sullivan asked me on a date? I said yes. He never showed up to the theater. Amber was pissed. He came to school the next day with a broken arm and fractured ribs. He said some asshole attacked him.
Funny. Amber talked about a scene in the Stab franchise where someone gets ambushed and hurt. Seemed familiar.
Anyways. School is slow, and life is passing me by. Chad is a big-shot basketball player. I haven’t gone to a game. I can’t stand being in a room full of people and feeling so alone. Mindy is okay with it. She comes over sometimes to braid my hair and make my bed.
Everything is in slow motion. Time is passing, but not at all.
Do you feel that way?
Tara.
——
April 4th, 2019
Dear Sam,
I’m doing fine. I’m regaining all my strength and self-worth in record time. I brush my hair most days and even clean my room once a week.
I stopped going through the photos I kept under my bed. I feel no need to reflect on the past right now because that’s all I can do. There’s no future when I know you’re out there ignoring me.
Maybe even forgetting about me.
I joined a club. A book club. It’s nice just sitting there and letting people’s opinions swallow me whole. I can listen and nod, and everyone leaves me alone; because I’m not moping around anymore. Amber is happier anyways. She was so angry with me for being sad all the time.
Jokes on her; I’m still sad. But I can’t lose anything else anymore, so sadness is a wasted feeling. I can walk for hours in the darkness, stay up all night, pray, and it still wouldn’t matter.
You are still gone, and I am here. I might as well try.
Tara.
——
May 19th, 2019
Dear Sam,
Three years.
I don’t know if I have any tears left to cry for you. I’ve accepted that I’ll never see you again if you could help it.
I hope that once I’m out of this town, you come back, looking for me. And when I’m not there, you understand how it feels.
I try not to be mean. But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? An escape from me. You were leaving me before I could infect you with whatever darkness swirls inside me.
No explanation comes to my mind besides the one where you’re sick of me.
I don’t blame you. I get it.
Love, Tara.
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ashcal99 · 6 days
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Certain Things : Leah Clearwater XIII
Chapter Thirteen
"Something about you, It's like an addiction, Hit me with your best shot honey, I've got no reason to doubt you, 'Cause certain things hurt, And you're my only virtue"
Summary: Conner Swan moves to Forks Washington in hopes to help his sister Bella through her breakup with Edward. In hopes to find happiness again. He finds much more.
Warnings: (18+ only), descriptions of pain and violence, mentions of death, depression, loss, general angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion and child loss
Words: 3.2k
A/N: Last Chapter!!! Hope you enjoy! x
Soundtrack
Previous Chapter
Series Masterlist
——————
September 7th, 2006
“Sam is going to kill you.”
Jacob’s words seemed to ring throughout the air, Conner’s eyes trained on the tree line where the wolf had retreated. Seconds ticked by, his gaze unwavering as the inevitable sank in. Shit was about to hit the fan, no doubt about it. They were now all in danger, he suspected, sure that the treaty would mean little to nothing to the pack once the news broke out. 
Warm fingertips brushed against his stiff shoulder, breaking his gaze. His eyes turned to Leah, jaw clenching as he took in the sight of his wife, belly swollen with his unborn child. The last thing he would have ever wanted was to hurt anybody in the pack, but he knew that if anyone were to threaten the people he loved most, his sister, his wife, his child, he would not hesitate to do whatever it was he needed to do to protect. 
Conner’s hand reached upward, gently grasping Leah’s palm in his own, bringing it to his lips, leaving a cool kiss to the blazing skin. “He’s right.” He muttered, looking deep into her eyes. “Things are going to get a lot more complicated here soon.” He said.
A deep frown etched itself onto Leah’s face, “I won’t let them touch you.” She said sternly.
Conner shook his head at her words. “You, Bella, and the babies are the priorities here, not me.” He stated, head whipping around to the direction Jake had ran off to, an earsplitting howl ripping through the air. A horrible feeling sink into his cold chest
Turning on his heal, he lead Leah back inside the glass home to discuss the inevitable fight that would be heading their way soon. The conversation was in full swing by the time they made it back to the living room, all of the pale faces, etched with worry. They were a powerful group, no doubt about it, but the likelihood of being able to make it out of this with everyone alive was very slim and they all knew it. 
Dread began to take over Leah’s mind as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Would she really be able to face her brothers in a fight to the death if that was what it came down to? She knew the answer would be yes, because at the end of the day, protecting her imprint was what she would always choose, but that didn’t mean that she would ever be able to forgive herself for hurting anybody else that she loved in the process. 
Her heart ached as her thoughts continued racing on. Not only her pack brothers, but Seth too. Tears pricked her eyes as she pictured his face, the little brother that despite her teasing she loved with all of her heart. She knew deep down that if he were to get hurt in all of this that she wouldn’t be able to cope. First her father, and now Seth? She couldn’t be responsible for two of her loved one’s deaths.
The conversation hadn’t been going on for longer than ten minutes when footsteps came quickly approaching from the woods, Edward and Conner speeding to the balcony to see who the visitors were. Jacob’s figure appeared from the tree-line, Seth not far behind. 
“Get ready.” Jake said ominously, a cold look covering his face. “They’re coming for Bella and Leah.” He said, the words ringing in Conner’s ears. 
Conner stepped forward, determination clear in his voice. “They’re not going to touch them.” 
“Agreed.” Jake said bluntly.  
——————
Jake sat on the edge of his seat, the many stone faces surrounding him, hanging onto his every word as he spoke. “Sam’s lost the element of surprise, and he doesn’t want to take you on outnumbered, so he’s not going to come at you head on.” He explained. “He’s got the place surrounded and he’ll wait for his opportunity.” He continued. 
Leah looked up to her imprint’s amber eyes, squeezing their intertwined hands as her fingers began to shake slightly. The fear of what was to come beginning to overwhelm her. 
Conner glanced down at her, brow furrowing in concern as he felt her fingers twitch in his hold, bringing her hand to his lips to place a comforting kiss to the warm skin, hoping to help ease her oncoming panic.
Emmet’s voice boomed through the room. “He won’t get through without a fight.” He said determinedly, squaring his shoulders as if to dare someone to try to fight him. 
Carlisle’s head whipped around to look at his adopted son. “No fights.” He stated. “We won’t be the ones to break the treaty.” He said, turning to address the rest of the room. 
“The treaty is void,” Jake interjected. “At least in Sam’s mind.”
“Not in ours.” Esme said simply, her want for peace clear in her eyes as she spoke. 
Emmet stepped forward, “Carlisle, no one’s hunted for weeks.” He said, the words seemingly igniting the flames that crawled up Conner’s throat. The need for blood coming to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head, this would not, could not be is priority right now. He would not let his thirst control him when Leah was in danger. He would not let the monster control him.
“We’ll make do.” Esme said pointedly. Conner gulped the flames down, refusing to give the burn anymore attention in that moment. 
Carlisle looked towards the wolf. “You’ve done us a great service, Jacob. Thank you.” He said sincerely, looking over the family who he loved and wanted more than anything to keep safe. 
Leah stood from the couch, letting Conner’s hand drop as she retreated to the room they had been given for the time being. Conner followed, closing the door softly behind him as he came up to her from behind. She stool at the far edge of the room, palms flat on the dresser that was against the wall, looking into the mirror above, worry and dread written all over her tanned face. 
Conner’s fingertips brushed her waist, encircling his stone like arms around her to the front of her swollen belly, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, seeing the pain in her eyes through her reflection. 
Tears prickled her vision as she looked ahead to the image of herself. Swallowing hard, she turned in his grasp, grasping his shirt as she let her tears begin to flow, burying her face in the fabric. Silent sobs shook her frame, the sadness radiating off of her body like tidal waves. 
Conner’s dead heart broke as he held her shaking body, venom stinging his eyes as the sorrow flooded the room. 
——————
September 9th, 2006
Minutes turned into hours and hours into days as the Cullens continued their effort in researching what these fetuses could mean for the two young women. Edward’s hope spiraled the drain as each answer showed more and more dread, his frustration growing by the second. 
Esme had made sure to make Seth and Jacob as comfortable as possible given the situation, giving them meals whenever they were hungry and even offering them beds to sleep in, despite both rejecting the offer. Having Seth there with her had seemed to lessen Leah’s stress just slightly, happy to at least be on the same side of the inevitable fight as her brother.
Conner was happy to see the comfort Seth was providing for her, relieved that something was going their way in all of this, even it if it was something small given the big picture. Despite things going better with Leah, however, things continued to get worse for Bella as time ticked on. Bruises scattered, her thin lifeless frame, pain covering her hallowed face as Carlisle informed her that the baby had broken another one of her ribs. Conner gave her hand a small comforting squeeze, trying to show her that he was there for her, despite her husband not being. 
“It’s crushing you from the inside out.” Edward snarled, the corners of his lips curling down into a frown. “Carlisle tell her what you told me.” He urged. “Tell her.” 
Silence rang throughout the room as Carlisle looked between the two. “Carlisle, tell me. It’s alright.” Bella reassured, giving him a small nod. 
The doctor stepped forward towards her fidgeting body, eyes scanning her face once more before speaking softly. “The fetus isn’t compatible with your body.” He informed her gravely. “It’s too strong.” He continued. “It won’t allow you to get the nutrition you need. It’s starving you by the hour. I can’t stop it and I can’t slow it down.”
Tears came flooding into Bella’s eyes as she blinked hurriedly trying to fan them away before they broke through. “At this rate, your heart will give out before you can deliver.” He stated, Conner looking to the floor as his heart cracked just a little bit more. 
Bella gulped before speaking, trying to swallow the fear in her voice. “Then I’ll hold on as long as I can and then-“ She tried, Carlisle interrupting her words. 
“Bella.” He spoke softly, laying a comforting half on her shoulder. “There are some conditions that even venom can’t overcome.” He informed her. “You understand?” He asked lightly, as if speaking to a terrified child. “I’m sorry.” He said, looking down to the floor, a grave expression covering his features. 
Conner looked to Edward, giving him a pressing look, begging him internally to not hurt her heart further by the conversation he knew was coming as he left the room quietly. 
Letting out a deep breath that his body didn’t need, he sped quickly through the halls back to his room, finding his wife where he had left her, in a deep sleep the mattress the occupied the middle of the room. Despite the despair he felt about the likelihood of losing his only sister, he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t equally letting out a sigh of relief that Leah wasn’t in the same boat. The pregnancy had been progressing smoothly mostly, apart from the occasional symptom that would be considered normal for even a human pregnancy. 
Of course, the relief had stopped there, because there was still a pack of angry wolves determined to ruin things. Although he doubted Sam’s ability to hurt Leah, the same did not go for his own safety as well as the safety of his child. If Sam truly thought of the baby as nothing else other than a bloodthirsty monster, then Conner knew Sam would try to take the child away from them. As much as he knew that to be true, he also knew that Sam would be putting the blame of whatever pain he inflicted on Leah emotionally on him rather than himself. 
Conner knew without having to think for more than a second that if it came down to it, he would give his life in place of the Leah’s or the baby’s and as he looked down at his wife’s sleeping form, he couldn’t help but feel at least a little bit of peace in that fact. The fact that as long as he was alive, or as alive as you would consider his current state, that his little family he had created would be safe. 
——————
September 10th, 2006
It was just a day later when the inevitable happened. 
Shit hit the fan. 
Bella had just told Jacob the baby names she had chosen, while he tried his best to hide the obvious disdain for her choices. Edward had just filled her cup with the blood that had been giving her nutrients for the past day, Leah muttering something about being glad she didn’t have to resort to such a disgusting diet, no offense to Conner of course. 
Rosalie had picked up the styrofoam cup, reaching her hadn’t out to hand the container to Bella when it all happened in a flash. Conner watched in horrifying slow motion as the cup hurtled to the ground, Bella’s body literally crumpling after it, spine cracking on the way down. 
Conner stood, frozen in his living nightmare as he gave his sister one last look as they rushed her away. Of course this had to happen the one night Carlisle had been gone hunting. Of course the one person that had the best chance of saving her fragile life was nowhere to be found in that moment, miles away. He gulped, snapping himself out of his trance as he scooped Leah into his arms, rushing to their room. 
Howls ripped through night air, echoing throughout the trees. He sat Leah on the edge of the bed, getting down on his knees in front of her. “Please stay here.” He begged, grasping her hands desperately in his own. “They’ll be here soon, and I know you want to help, but please stay here. I’m begging you.” He said, pleading with her with his eyes as tears flooded her own. 
“Conner, n-no.” She stuttered out, panic filling her chest. “Stay here, please.” She begged. 
He shook his head lightly. “I have to go make sure that Seth is okay, make sure that they stay away from you and the baby.” He said, voice filled with despair. He brought his hand to her now damp cheek. “I love you, Leah. More than anything in the world.” He muttered, crashing his lips to her own, needing the feel of her, the taste of her one last time.
The comfort of her kiss engulfed him, wrapping him in her love so tightly it took everything in him to pull away from her touch, and as he did, his heart gave its’ final break, shattering as he gave her tear stained face one more look before speeding outside. Although being turned into a vampire was the most painful thing he had ever been through, he knew that the pain of the venom didn’t do anything in comparison to the pain he felt in every step he took away from her. 
Shaking the image of Leah’s heartbroken face from his mind, it dawned on him that he could no longer hear his sister’s heartbeat. His chest gave a feeble ache, incapable of feeling anymore pain in that moment. She was gone. Bella was dead. 
He shook the though from his mind as he joined the rest of the coven on their front lawn, facing up with the snarling beasts in front of him. The wolves burst from the trees. The large black one coming straight for his neck in an instant. Sam. He wrapped his arms around the beast’s neck. Holding it back from himself as he pushed back against its strength. 
The wolf wriggled itself free from his grasp, knocking Conner swiftly onto his back. It snapped its jaw menacingly, its large paw holding him down before lunging in for his attack. Conner’s hands shot outward, holding the jaws open and away from his face as his eyes darted to the side, seeing Seth frozen, looking at his former pack brothers. “Seth!” He shouted, gaining the boy’s attention. “Go protect Leah.” He pleaded, watching as he shook himself out of his trance and ran into the home. 
Sam bared down on Conner, forcing all of his strength into his bite, as his sharp teeth got closer and closer to ripping his face off. 
“Stop! It’s over!” Jake yelled, voice ringing throughout the trees. “If you kill her, you kill me.” He stated.
Sam lifted his head, looking at Jacob before lunging in his direction, knocking him back ten feet. 
Jake burst into his wolf form, snarling back at the pack before him as Edward spoke. “Jacob imprinted.” He spoke, stopping Conner in his tracks. He stood in shock, starring at the russet wolf before him. “They can’t hurt her. Whoever a wolf imprints on can’t be harmed. It’s their most absolute law.” He explained.
Sam paused, dumbfounded, eyes flickering between them all before huffing. His eyes settled on Conner, the fading red still present in his own eyes as he saw him for what he really was, a monster. Was he really going to sit by while this man continuously put the woman he was once in love with in danger, time and time again? The man that would ultimately cause her death by the atrocities he had committed. Fuck laws and treaties, he couldn’t let this go on any longer. 
He lunged forward once more, catching Conner by surprise as he sunk his teeth into his shoulder, a loud yelp ripping from his stone chest. 
“Sam!” A scream rang out. 
Leah stood there on the balcony her white knuckles gripping the banister so tight it began to crack under the pressure. “Please, Sam, leave him alone.” She begged, tears streaming down her red cheeks. 
Sam looked up, hesitating as he saw the pain in her eyes. He stepped back taking in the full view of her. She looked… healthy, much different than Bella had looked in Jacob’s mind. Maybe this wasn’t a death sentence for her like it was for Bella. 
“Please, can’t I have happiness too?” She asked, voice cracking. Sam’s eyes lingered, seeing the pain in her eyes, no doubt caused by him, and suddenly felt an overwhelming shame come over himself. Conner hadn’t been the one to hurt her over and over; it was him. He was the guilty one. He was the monster. He gave the man before him one last look before turning and retreating into the woods, the pack behind him as he returned to La Push.
——————
September 12th, 2006
It had only been two days since the big fight. Bella had still not awoken from her transformation. Conner’s shoulder still held the scar left from the bite from Sam, and was most likely never going to go away. Though the battle was far gone, there he was again, terrified. This time because he was about to become a father. 
Leah had gone into labor, thankfully much less dramatically than his sister just as the sun had set that Tuesday. Conner stood at her side, letting her squeeze the life out of his hand as she pushed with each contraction. Carlisle coached her through every second, assuring her that she was doing a great job. 
Before they knew it, there she was. His daughter. A perfect copy of him and his wife, lying there in Leah’s arms, blinking slowly as she took in the new world around her. He saw right then that this love would never leave his heart, this astounding, world crumbling love for his child. There was nothing like it he had ever felt before, and as he stood, with his little family wrapped in his arms, he knew that whatever life had to throw at him in the future, whatever it had left to hurt him with that as long as he had them by his side he would be okay. 
Because certain things would hurt, but they would be his virtue. 
THE END
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sapphireshorelines · 2 years
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— Ethan Gilsdorf, The Imprint of September Second
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metamorphesque · 8 months
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The Imprint of September Second, Ethan Gilsdorf
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Hello! Sending some numbers from the end-of-year book ask, I'm not sure of everything you've already answered, so if you'd like to do any or all of these: 4, 5, 12 (especially because you write about reading books with vibes related to your projects), and 17. I hope you feel better!
hiya!! thanks for the ask! referencing this post.
4. If you DNF any books, what was the pettiest reason you put a book down this year?
so one of my toxic reader traits is actually that i DON'T tend to DNF things--i'm very stubborn, and i tend to read fast enough that it doesn't feel like a waste of too much time, AND i usually flip from "Reading to Read" to "Reading to Tear That Shit Apart" (as a writerly exercise, mostly, or for a hate read, which i find cathartic because i am frequently full of rage these days).
one book that is taking me Much Longer Than Anticipated to get through, though, is DAEMON VOICES by Philip Pullman, which i started in....september. a writer friend gifted it to me, and i was pleasantly surprised by the last book she gifted me, so i'm slogging along. but. this man. grates on me. it's mostly his hot takes on religion, so i keep putting him in time out when he conflates shit he has no business conflating. some of his general story thoughts are interesting! but every time he mentions religion, he's on thin ice with me, and he keeps winding up in Time Out About It lol. (also the lectures transcribed to essays format isn't really working for me, pettily.)
5. What's a scene you read this year that sticks with you?
oof okay i LOVE the specificity of this question but it absofuckenlutely made me bluescreen haha.
after staring at my shelves about it for a few minutes (quite a few minutes), i have to confess that MOST of NETWORK EFFECT is imprinted on my grey matter (but that's my second time rereading it, so i don't know if it counts. shout out to "ART sent me" and "you little idiot," especially).
for things new to me this year: the last scene of ROADSIDE PICNIC by the Strugatskys has apparently ALSO imprinted on my brain (unexpected), and mumu's delightful narration in WALKING PRACTICE by Dolki Min has great sticking power (there's some VERY cool text formatting going on there that feeds into the voice, which i loved!).
12. Did any book inspire you to create?
first off, it made my whole week that you mentioned the reading/writing/vibes thing, i feel seen and known, thank you!!
second off: WALKING PRACTICE gave me excellent writing-related vibes and inspiration for my weird little monster child book, and i loved the cool formatting/voice things it did. (it definitely comes with content warnings, though, for things like graphic on-page sex and body horror and eating people (frequently all three of those together/concurrent), so proceed with caution if that's not your jam!)
the SKYBOUND SAGA also inspired ~creation~ for me, from the opposite direction: very much a "damn, if this can get published, mine can too, let's gooo" type of inspiration. (i am a spite-fueled being, sometimes.)
17. A book you reread this year. Did it hold up to how you remembered it?
oh! i did actually quite a bit of rereading toward the end of the year!! i reread ARTIFICIAL CONDITION and NETWORK EFFECT in preparation for SYSTEM COLLAPSE, and those absolutely held up--ART and murderbot are my beloveds, and i stayed up way past my bedtime for like a week in a row (even though i have reread both of those at least once before, so hypothetically i know what's coming and i could put them down any damn time)(reader, i cannot).
my other rereads were VICIOUS and VENGEFUL by VE Schwab. VICIOUS held up perfectly, too--i've reread it before, and this time i did it specifically to dissect her timelines, and it's just a masterpiece of tension and pacing and history and reveals.
VENGEFUL, on the other hand, was Fine™. i don't hate it, but i don't love it--i could set that one down easier (which was good for my aforementioned bedtimes), and dissecting it wasn't as helpful of an exercise. don't get me wrong, i love victor and mitch and syd, and i enjoyed eli's backstory, but. it wasn't VICIOUS.
thanks again for asking!!
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yurimother · 2 years
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Dengeki Maoh Teases "Important Announcement" for Yuri Series 'The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and Genius Young Lady'
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The September issue of ASCII Media Work's Seinen magazine Dengeki Maoh teased an upcoming "important announcement" about the fantasy Yuri series The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and Genius Young Lady (Tensei Oujo to Tensai Reijou no Mahou Kakumei). The announcement will be in the magazine's next issue, which releases on August 27. This release also lines up with the publication of the fourth collected manga volume, which will be released a day prior, on August 26, in Japan.
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Image taken by Harutsugu Nadaka
Fans quickly responded to the news online, with many hoping for the announcement of an anime adaptation. Yuri influencer Ach speculatively Tweeted about the possibility of an anime adaptation.
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Harutsugu Nadaka, the illustrator of The Magical Revolution's manga adaptation, also responded to the tease, saying, "I wonder what the heck that is about."
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Any talk of an anime adaptation is pure speculation, and there is no confirmation as to the nature of the announcement.
The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady is a Yuri isekai series by Piero Karasu. It follows Anisphia, the princess who, despite having no magical aptitude, develops "magicology," a unique theory based on the memories of her past life. One day, she sees noblewoman Euphyllia cruelly stripped of her rank and right to the throne. Resolving to help restore Euphyllia, Anisphia begins living with her and assisting her through magical research.
The series began on the user-generated novel publishing website Shosetsuka ni Naro before being picked up for publication by Fujimi Shobo. Yuri Kisaragi illustrates the light novels. The fifth volume is scheduled for release in Japan on August 20.
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A manga adaptation of the series began serialization in Dengeki Maoh in July 2020. Harutsugu Nadaka (MEMENTO -Archivez-), primarily known for his contributions to KonoSuba and iDOLM@STER anthologies, illustrates the manga.
Yen Press licenses both the manga and light novel editions of The Magical Revolution in English, with the latter released under its Yen On imprint. The second light novel was released on July 19, and the manga's second light novel is currently scheduled for publication on August 23.
Check out The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady light novels and manga today: https://amzn.to/3BlvZUF
Reading official releases helps support creators and publishers. YuriMother makes a small affiliate commission from sales to help fund future coverage.
Source: Dengeki Maoh; Harutsugu Nadaka Twitter
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