The snowflake on his crotch

🎄One Day until Christmas 🎄

who could have guessed that I'd be redesigning Winter Rose AGAIN

Something had corrupted him. He knew that. Something had twisted his obsession into something similar yet very foreign. He had become more aggressive and off-kilter. He knew he shouldn't be ok with doing these things. His old self would be horrified. But Danny couldn't remember why. He didn't remember why it was wrong to kill. Why it was wrong to follow this man's orders. And he most definitely didn't understand why his body seemed to scream at him to get away from the sickly looking green. Especially because the sickly green was one of the few things he remembered.

He remembered getting curious, getting too close, and getting dragged in. That was all. He didn't remember what happened before nor what happened after. By the time he started remembering things again, he was already under the influence of the weird man. It is for this reason it was so comforting to be close to the sickly green and yet the very fibers of his body seemed repulsed by it.

Danny didn't understand what was so wrong about the sickly green. He didn't remember why he was supposed to avoid it. So he kept as close to the sickly green as possible. He also kept to the strange man and followed what he said. There was a deep gut feeling that told him not to. And the funnily dressed people continued to say stay away too. But he couldn't. Because what if he distanced himself only to never find something familiar again? What if he left only to be surrounded by things he couldn't understand?

He was lost in a sea of unknown, desperately clinging onto his little island of familiarity. He dared not let go and risk sinking into the depths.

The sound that arm makes

bitter memories of Zuzu City.

🍀 maybe love was always near by soliloquent

4,6k words // pairing: bucky barnes & sam wilson

—⎊—

“Bucky doesn’t think anything of it until the day Torres decides to open his mouth and make things awkward.

They’re friends, and co-workers, and now roommates. It’s not weird.”

or: Five times Sam and Bucky’s friends wrongly assume they’re dating and one time they get it right.

Maria Holzer. A winter forest near Villa Miramar, 1925.

I feel like with how long Ashe was isolated, she probably has a really bad habit of monologuing to herself or talking while watching/doing stuff or commenting on shows and movies thruout the literal entirety of them so that she felt less lonely in her house. Like she probably would still do it for awhiiile after joining PD, even when with them because it’s had so much time to get integrated into her normalcy

Bakugou hates this fucking time of year. Mainly because of the cold and dreary weather, but also because of the holidays and the upcoming expectations of and from him. He’s a damn good gift giver—when he wants to be, and only because he listens, also when he wants to—but the part he hates the most about it?

Gift wrapping. It’s a damn obligation from hell. He’d rather go out and buy all the gift boxes and bags and bows and shit before he’d ever wrap a gift. Maybe he hates it because he’s not automatically good at it, maybe he hates it because it’s just fucking stupid and useless if you’re just gonna tear through the wrapping paper anyway!

But he does it, for you and only you. Only because you came home at the beginning of the month with armfuls of wrapping paper and bows and gift tags and tissue paper and—and too much red and green and white. You’re so excited, and he can’t deny how cute you look sticking your tongue out when you cut the wrapping paper around the gift you got for Mina.

He stares at the present he brought you months in advance, wonders what’s so hard about wrapping a tiny little velvet box? And discovers his hatred all over again for wrapping paper and tape and shear scissors and dumb sticky bows. But the face you make at him? When he hands you the hand wrapped gift hidden under the tree on a horrendously cold morning?

It makes him warmer inside than he cares to admit. You don’t make fun of his wrapping skills or how there’s too much tape and that one hole he made in it when he gripped it too hard. You only grin at him, tear into the gift with haste, whisper about how nice it is to get some hand wrapped from him knowing how much he hated it. But maybe—maybe he doesn’t hate it so much now. Not if it gets this reaction out of you every time.

Arbatskaya Square in Moscow. Photo by Carl Mydans (December 1959).

richard: no no guys im straight

meanwhile, richard: what's the hottest thing ab camilla? idk that's a toughy. did i mention i love her? oh and i love how she looks, esp her boyish haircut and how much she reminds me of her brother :)

also richard: camilla let's get married. yes i know you're still in love with henry. get over it already i loved him too

22|12|2023

I am yet again writing and posting this the morning after, but yesterday I was completly exhausted when I got back home. The seminar went well, I am satisfied with myself and I was happy to see the professor who was very kind as usual. She complimented my thesis again and said that she looks forward to see me in her class next semester, which makes me very happy. I will probably ask her to tutor me in my master thesis too since we already know each other and I feel very comfortable working with her. Overall it was a nice experience, and I am proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone. Before going to the seminar anxiety was kicking my ass quite a bit, I took my meds twice in the morning because I was feeling terribly, but after it was done everything was okay. I was sad that while waiting to get in my uni, since I arrived so early, I couldn't find the last heartstopped book I was looking for. I was looking forward to getting that as a sort of emotional support gift to myself for doing this big thing, but alas my quest was a failure.

don't you love when you're like, okay now I'm going to leave this sorrow in the old year so I don't turn into a crotchety bitter person over it, and then you walk on feeling all refreshed and bright no longer carrying it on your shoulders, but then the sorrow wanders after you like a child who was lost in the supermarket weeping its eyes out and it says to you where did you GO I was lost! I was lost and I missed you!!! and you can only sigh and take it by its hand and say to it very well. here's your seat. I'm sorry I left you behind, I promise it was with the best of intentions, but I want to do my best by you, so let's sit together and try to figure out what you're saying to me.