they share a love of the sea

Let me tell you this: if you love someone who’s mentally challenged and that person tries to push you away—never ever let them go until they completely allow themselves to completely vanish from your life. I know it’s hard because there are days with them that will remind you of how pretty the sky is whenever she dances with her clouds. And there are days with them that will remind you of how ugly the sky is whenever she gets dark and falls out of love with the sea. But it’s so worth it to fall in love with someone whom you can heal and share laughter and tears with. It’s so worth it to fall in love with someone whom you can experience darkness and despair with because you get to have the chance to be someone’s home whenever they feel that they’re alone. You get to have the chance to be someone’s hope, and that’s a beautiful thing indeed.
—  Juansen Dizon, If You Love Someone Who’s Mentally Challenged

@lilacflamesss is a smut queen, but as a friend she will be your fighter.

I can still remember the reason why we talked at first, coz you were feeling down. Thinking about it, I initiated all these convos between my mutuals, dafuq. I do not regret doing so though, coz I met another amazing writer and an amazing friend who also share the same love for marine life. I swear we need to buy a rest house near the sea and live there in peace.

Like I said, Far you are very true to your beliefs and will fight for them. You are not afraid to speak your mind, which I admire. I just hope you will have more confidence in your talents (because you are really gooooood) as a writer and in your craft! Remember that there are a lot of us who actually are gonna be here to support you in whatever you do, except for plumming, and will be there for you. Thank you for sharing stuff and listening to my bs, thanks for caring for our friends and standing up for Ayato and Hinami (lmao). Love you and I’ll be here.

Guillermo del Toro’s last five films have been:

1. A dark fairy tale as a metaphor for the effects of war on children, set in the midst of the Spanish Civil War
2. A superhero movie that features a war between mankind and magical creatures
3. An action movie where the heroes have to share their minds and bond emotionally so they can punch aliens from the sea better. Also Charlie Day is a scientist.
4. Basically what would happen if all three Bronte sisters got hammered and wrote a book with Lord Byron.
and 5. An adorable woman falls in love with a fish man. Not a merman. A FISH MAN.

No one in Hollywood is having more fun.

BTS LETTERS TO EACH OTHER:

Suga to Jin: 

“ To Jinjinjara/Seok-jin!! It’s your eternal roommate, Suga. I can’t believe it’s been 7 years since we’ve known each other. Remember when I first met you? You seemed so well-behaved and kind and you seem so bright and cheerful these days, which amazes me. I believe that being together with us has brought about that change? It seems like yesterday when you were concerned and not confident on stage but when I see you on stage these days, I realize how well you sing. It’s the result of your hard effort for a long period of time. I’ve watched you for a long time. It was touching to see you try to do better at something that you weren’t good at. I felt that I had a lot to learn from you. Let’s be together for a long time. P.S: But I wish you’d act your age”.

Jin to Jungkook: 

“ To Jk, Hi, JK. It’s me. I’m always appreciative of what you do. Thank you for having the same mental age as I do, when I am 26 years old. While traveling with you, I was reminded once again of how strong your punches are. I’ll do better, so please don’t hit me. I think your face got a lot darker during this trip. As the older guy, I’ll give you a facial mask when we go back to Korea. Soothe your skin with it, and also soothe yourself and stop lying on my bed. You keep lying on my bed and taking selfies. You may have gotten a tan in Hawaii, but I will throw you into a fire pit in Korea. Of course, that fire pit is my heart.  Come and be embraced in my big heart. Thank you for being the teacher and the energy of the team. Jungkook, you are nice, good looking, strong, have a  good body, have big eyes, sings and dances well. I love you”.

Jungkook to Rap Monster: 

“To Namjoon, Hey. This is the youngest of the team, Jungkook. I’m not good at writing letters so I don’t know where to start, but here I go. This is something that I always think about. I often get inspired, by the team. Although I’m inspired by all the members, I’m especially inspired by you. I have a lot of things that I wanna do but I never seem to stick to them for long. You guys always joke about that. But when that pattern was repeated, I felt that I have really become that kind of person. Whenever I see you working, talking about or working on music or speaking English, I develop this sense of confidence and passion. I know that things may be tough for you too, but please continue showing those things for me. I’ll keep following you from behind. You’re really an amazing person”.

Taehyung to Jimin: 

“To Jimin. Jimin, hi.  Writing you this sincere letter is making me cringe, but I’m trying to go on. Please understand. Since our trainee days, we came to Seoul without a clue.  We woke up, put on uniforms and attended the same school. We ate together, went to practice together, went to practice and got back to the dorm. Then we’d talk all night. After such 6 years, you’re now my dearest friend. Before our debut, you once got anxious about it. At that time, I had a company meeting. they asked me what I’d think if Jimin is on the team. I thought it over and said that you’re there when I’m up or down, the only one who laughed and cried with me. I said that I’d like such a good friend to debut with me as a team. It felt good to say that. And I’m glad that I was able to debut with you. All our good memories made me happy. And I’m sorry since I’m always on the receiving end. When I’m in the bathroom to cry, you still cry with me. And you come see me at dawn to laugh alongside me. You care about me and have me in your thoughts. You work hard for me and understand. You listen to my concerns and like me though I’m lacking. Let’s walk a road of happiness. Love you, buddy.

Rap Monster to Tae-Hyung: 

“Taehyung, my first letter goes to you. That gives me a mix of feelings. Like the peddles we’ve seen to our heart’s content in Hawaii, it’s hard to pick out what I want to say to you. like the open sea we’ve enjoyed, it may be because we go far back with many memories we share. I remember when I first met you. When you came with your father to our dorm with big eyes, busy legs, and your puckered lips, I knew at once.That you'be a rascal. I also remember how you were anxious before our debut. Your unique character and strangeness got me puzzled at times. so I wondered what aspect of yours helped you to bear everything at times. But as time went by and my hair started to grow out, I realized that even me, who I thought was the norm, is also a strange puzzling guy. And I was drawn by your uniqueness. And I was envious at times because you easily befriend people and everyone likes you. You have shown everyone that your strangeness is actually your unique charm. You might say this makes you cringe, but since you started out as a trainee, I want to say I’m grateful to you as a friend and older member.  Thanks for not being a farmer or playing the saxophone and coming to us to complete BTS. Let’s keep up the good work. Hand in there!”.

Jhope to Suga: 

“To my bro Suga from Jhope, Hey. It’s Hoseok. We’ve been together for 7  years, including our trainee days. When I was first at the dorm, I felt so awkward and shy. So I remained in the living room. Then you came over to talk and made me relax. I still can’t forget that moment. Coming from Gwangju, you were like my savior.  When I was sick or sad, you were always there for me. When I was tired and had it hard; you were there to give me strength. When I got seasick on Bon Voyage 2 and opened my eyes from sleep, the first person I saw was you. Though Jimin was also there. I didn’t say it then, but I really appreciate your help. As much as we’ve spent time together, I’m that much grateful to you. I’d like to say that with this letter at this time. Thanks for becoming a member of BTS. And thanks for being my big brother. I hope you’re always by my side. I love my bro!“.

Jimin to Jhope:

 “To Hoseok. I thought it would be easy because it’s not the first letter to you. But it’s not. I am nervous. Because we talk together a lot and I talk about my feelings to you, I guess you know well what I think or what I want to say. When I look at you, I have this thought: ‘He is really honest and faithful. He is a good and nice one”. I thought like this: “A person can be cool because he is honest and faithful”. I realized it thanks to you.  As a younger brother and a member of the same team, I learn a lot from you. You always take good care of us. you pay attention to us and work hard. I know. I want to say thank you, with all my heart. Thank you, brother! I hope you take care of yourself and stop worrying about us. My dear brother, whom I always am thankful, love you.“

By @mimibtsghost

Violet’s List of Modern Witches

(I am not taking credit for this list, I liked it, but it was not alphaitized, which bothered me, so I alphabatized it)
soothingvioletlight:
Artistic Witch: A witch usually covered in paint from head to toe. They draw, paint, dance, sing, and sew their way through their practice. They enchant their tablet pens and paintbrushes, use storm water for their watercolors, and strike real emotion into their audience.

Astro Witch: A witch who works with aliens. Usually very paranoid individuals, they adore star gazing, always know when the next astronomical event is, and love the documentary TV Show ‘ancient aliens’. They are usually adept at astral travel, astrology and sun magick.

Atheist Witch: A witch who does not use deities in their craft.

Blood Witch: Another branch of Chaos magick, these witches primarily use blood in their rituals. They have a high pain tolerance, care little about what others think or say, and are very set in their ways. Many of them have a history of abuse and self harm. Some do it to prove how strong they are or devotion to their deities. Nonetheless, nice people once you get to know them. Perhaps a bit misunderstood.

Catholic Witch: Catholic witch who usually uses saints and the holy trinity in their practice.

Celtic Witch: A witch that mixes their witchcraft with Druidry. They worship the traditional deities of the Celtic people.

Ceremonial Witch: A combination of ceremonial magic and witchcraft. They focus on rituals and formal casting of magic. With robes and altars and everything. Also called Ritualistic Witchcraft or Traditional Witchcraft.

Chaos Witch: A witch who uses baneful magick in their craft. They will sometimes use demons, storm magick, blood magick, and cursing in their practice. They fear nothing. Commonly mislabeled ‘black’ or ‘dark’ witch. Which is not correct. Tsk tsk.

Christian Witch: A witch that holds Christian beliefs and worships the Holy Trinity. They often use the Bible in their work.


Cottage Witch: A Witch who focuses on hearth magick. Much like the Kitchen witch, but with less emphasis on the cooking. They are the homemakers, the ones who decorate the house for the holidays. Usually empaths who are very sensitive to the people around them.
Crystalline Witch: A branch of Green witchery, these witches primarily work with stones, gems, crystals, and rocks. They LOVE geology, spend a lot of time hiking and collecting crystals. Usually very organized individuals that are in tune with the earth. They always know when the next local rock and mineral show is. Usually broke because they are always buying new rocks. So many rocks. Fucking rocks everywhere omg.
Demonic Witch: These witches work with Demons. They differ from Exorcists in that they actually summon them and get them to go their bidding, rather than casting them out. Can usually hold a grudge a hella long time. Not people to mess with. Stubborn and bull headed.
Draconic Witch: These witches are fearsome. They are knowledgable in all the species of dragons, their personalities and their migration patterns. They usually will have one or more dragon companion from their local area. They are skilled in astral projecting, storm magick and cursing. They love to collect things such as books and crystals.
Eclectic Witch: The Boho witch. She uses a combination or mix of whatever paths suit her best. Typically specializes in 2-4 different sects of the craft. She often will wear a mix-match of clothing, but enjoys long flowing things. She tends to be very random and eccentric, but is friendly nonetheless.
Energy Witch: Witches that perform all of their magic internally. Their magic is one of pure energy, using circles cast in their heads and their imaginations to bring their will to life. Are usually shy and keep to themselves. They enjoy divination and astral projection. Also called Intrinsic Witches.
Exorcist: A branch of Spirit Worker. They are usually hereditary, clairvoyant and raised Christian or Catholic or Judaic. They learn their craft as it is passed down from their family members. They practice the archaic tradition of exorcism, aka banishment of dark or foul entities. Very somber individuals, who try their best to be optimistic.
Fae Witch: These witches are educated on all types of faeries, but usually prefer to work with a certain species or one they are familiar with. They are usually very playful and mischievous individuals, mimicking the creatures they work with. They are very attracted to shiny things and are easily offended.
Green Witch: The woodland witches, these earthy individuals protect plants and love to garden. They usually are adept at spirit communication, hearing and responding to the needs of their many leaf-bearing friends. They thrive in natural environments such as forests, lakes, rivers and gardens. Green witches enjoy sunlight, growing plants and collecting rocks. They focus on holistic medicine and are learned healers. They are very familiar with their local region, having memorized all the species of plants, trees, insects, wildlife and flowers. They truly love the earth.

Hedge Witch: A witch that lives between two worlds. They easily cross over into Elsewhere, the astral realm, and do so with ease. Often skilled at working with magickal creatures and familiars, they are very creative and artistic individuals. They are also very adept at psychometry, spirit communication, energy work, and time travel. Also called Astral Witches.
Hellenic Witch: A witch that observes the traditional Hellenic Greek gods and goddesses.
Hereditary Witch: Someone who is born into a witch family and brought up learning about witchcraft, or folk magic. They take great pride in certain traditional magic passed down through the generations.
Judaic Witch: Jewish witch who practices one of the many sects of Judaism. They are proud of their heritage and many enjoy casting their spells in Hebrew.
Kemetic Witch: A witch that practices traditional Egyptian magick and acknowledges and worships Egyptian deities.
Kitchen Witch:  This type of witch uses easily obtained items and weaves magick into every aspect of their life. They are particularly fond of cooking, arts and crafts, sewing, cleaning, gardening and baking. They are skilled in potions, herbology, and subtle magick.
Kreature Witch: Another branch of Green witchery, mixed with spirit working and hedgecraft, these witches primarily work with Magickal and Astral creatures and spirits. They are very friendly people, and get along with all kinds of physical, and not so physical creatures. They collect fossils and bones and skulls and know the names and personalities of each spirit attached to them.
Lunar Witch: A witch who primarily draws their power from the moon. They adore her and are usually adept at making moon water and knowing exactly what phase of the moon it is at any given time. They do not fear the dark, do much of their magick after the sun goes down, and have the ability to speak with the Lady Luna herself. These witches also may choose (or be chosen by) one of the moons of another planet, such as Miranda or Europa., and will work with that particular celestial body.
Melodic Witch: A branch of Artistic that primarily uses song and musical instruments in their practice. They are very busy people, constantly practicing whatever instrument has currently caught their fancy. They easily make friends with Sirens and Lorelai in their common love of song, and attract Fae and Nymphs alike with the sounds of their voices.
Necromancer: A branch of Chaos magick, these witches take spirit working a step further, and are adept at communicating and controlling the dead. Necromancers usually have a familiar ‘wraith’ that acts much like an astral or spirit guide. Some can even raise the dead for a period of time to converse with them.
Nordic Witch: Witches who worship the deities of the Norse people.
Nymphatic Witch: These cutie pies are usually Hellenistic in their choice of deities, and are well versed in all the species of Nymphs, what they like, and where they live. They usually work with the ones that live in their local area and mirror them in their personalities. They hate wearing clothes, but when they do they prefer pastel colors. They are very whimsical, pleasant people to be around.  
Omni Witch: A bookworm and a know it all, this type of witch studies and practices all the fields of magick. They are innately curious about everything, and love to learn. They are talkative and eager to share the massive amount of knowledge they have absorbed.
Oracle: Branch of Spirit worker. Witches who primarily focus their practice on divination. Tarot, runes, pendulums, spirit boards, scrying, crystal gazing, aeromancy, stichomancy, sea gazing, animal gazing, bird watching, lynchomancy, ceromancy, astrology, numerology, amathomancy, dream interpretation, shufflemancy, tea leaf reading, people watching, palm reading, face reading. You name it, they probably know how to do it. Usually clairvoyant and have a number of other psychic abilities.
Otherkin Witch: A witch who is Otherkin. They relate to an inhuman or an animal in either personality or spirit, or believe they are a reincarnation of such. They behaviors and choice in deities and certain practices in their craft will usually reflect their kind of Kin. An example would be that a Felinekin might like using catnip in their rituals, and might call on Bastet, Sekhmet or Freya in their magick.  
Pop Culture Witch: A branch of Urban witchcraft. Witches that craft their spells based on popular music, movies, books and poetry. They are artistic and very educated and love to laugh. They can also curse the hell out of you. It’s not all Disney movies, folks.
Practical Witch: A branch of kitchen witch, they are adept at spellwork, and use their magick for everyday, mundane things. They adore the use of sigils and put them everywhere. Very down to earth individuals, who enjoy experimenting with ways to use magick to may their daily life easier and more enjoyable.
Satanic Witch: Witches who work with Lucifer. Usually very kind, nonjudgmental people.
Sea Witch: These witches hone their craft near a body of water, and center their practice around it. Some sea witches will work with fresh water, such as rivers or lakes (in which case they will usually call themselves ‘river’ or ‘lake’ witches), some with the ocean. Sea witches without immediate access to a body of water are called ‘land-locked’. They often form connections with fish of all kinds, know their local areas very well, are good at predicting the weather, and are friendly with the nymphs, fae and dragons of their region. They enjoy collecting sand and seashells and are adept at storm and sun magic.
Secular Witch: A witch who does not involve religion in their craft.
Shadow Worker: A combination of energy and hedge magick, the shadow worker tames and summons Shadows of their own past and personality. They regret nothing, are very in tune with their emotions, and spend a lot of time meditating. They are not afraid to confront their mistakes, because accepting the flawed pieces of their personality gives them power.
Solitary Witch: A witch who works in isolation. Usually very independent and stubborn, they take orders from no one.
Spirit Worker: A Witch who communes with the dead spirits of humans, animals, and others entities. Some can even communicate with the spirits of trees, rocks, and man-made items. They are usually very outspoken, opinionated people. They use spirit boards and pendulums, among many other tools. They enjoy taking strolls in graveyards and having casual chats with the dead. Also called Mediums.  
Star Witch: Not to be confused with a Space witch, who works with all of the cosmos, primarily aliens and astrology. Star witches draw their power from constellations, stars, and the sun. They love star gazing, have star charts hanging on the walls of their room, and never miss a meteor shower. Very chipper individuals who always want to go to the planetarium rather than out to see a movie or to the park. They may also work with planets as well as stars.
Stitch Witch: A brand of Kitchen and Cottage witchery that holds magickal fabric work in high regard. They focus primarily on knot and stitch magick. Very scatter-brained individuals. Their room are always in disarray, fabric and thread everywhere. Usually fond of cosplay. LOVE making Halloween costumes for their family and friends.
Storm Witch: This breed of witch is both terrifying and thrilling. They have a great sense of humor, and are usually very cryptic. They give zero fucks what people think of them and march to the beat of their own drum. They whistle up the winds and summon lightning. These witches are usually very adept at cursing and fear nothing. They like horror movies, cloudy weather, and casting emotionally charged spells. They are empathic individuals and always feel things to the extreme, there is no middle ground with them. Its black or white.
Subtle Witch: a witch who cannot be openly witchy due to their family, friends or environment.
Sun Witch: A witch who draws their power more from the sun, than the moon as most witches tend to do. Adept at fire magic and are usually very spirited individuals. They use candles often in their practice, and love to throw barbecues and bonfires with their many friends. They enjoy sunbathing. Their magick comes in giant bursts and they will often use a lot of energy at once.
Swamp Witch: A witch who works in the rivers and bayous of the world. They are adept at spirit communication and are versed in the traditions of their area. They enjoy wandering around their swamps, meeting familiars and befriending creepy crawlies. Their craft is usually a mix of traditional southern witchcraft and Hoodoo. They are very warm, hospitable individuals, but you should NEVER cross a Swamp witch. They are not afraid to curse your ass. These witches favor the healing powers of mud, enjoy mixing potions, reading next to a roaring fire and being with their family.
Tech Witch: A branch of Urban witchcraft, they work with html and other computer codes, have virtual altars to their deities, use old circuit boards as wards, old keypads from cell phones and laptops as spirit boards, and old broken electronic screens for scrying. They typically keep their grimoires as blogs. Very intelligent witches who are always on tumblr.
Theatrical Witch: Branch of Artistic witch. A player. They act and perform in plays to honor their deities, spend countless hours perfecting their lines and adore being dramatic. Very charismatic people who take pride in their work. Persistent. Never take no for an answer.
Urban Witch: City witches who graffiti sigils on abandoned buildings, grow herbs in pots in their apartments and are very technologically savvy. Technomagic is their jam, usually rocking enchanted headphones, weaving spells from their favorite songs and using their cell phones as scrying mirrors.
Vampiric Witch: A witch that either works with or is a vampire. They feed off the energy or emotions of others and use it to power their magick. They tend to be kind of clingy, but they are loyal as fuck and treasure their few friends. They have many secrets, and usually a dark past. They enjoy using blood in magick and are adept at healing and cursing. They are kind of vain, love gothic clothing, jewelry and expensive things.
Wiccan Witch: Started in England by Gerald Gardner in the 1950s in order to preserve the “old ways”, these cuties use rituals and invoke the power of the goddess for their craft. Some believe in the rule of three, wiccan rede, the triple goddess, and so on.
Winter Witch: Witches who reside in the colder climates of the world. They cast snowstorms, collect hail and make poppets from snow. Blizzards are their best friends. They love cold weather, and usually draw their power from the snow and clouds, rather than the sun or the moon, as neither are usually very visible during storms. Despite their chilly disposition, they are warm and friendly once you get to know them.
Witch of the Dance: Branch of Artistic Witch. They use dance in their practice, and are very physically sound. They may practice one on many kinds of dance, or even martial art. And they do so skillfully. They are usually very quiet people, but not at all shy or unsure of themselves. They would rather express their thoughts through movement and body language than actually speaking.
Witch of the Waste: Desert witches who work with sand and limited supplies. Hardy herbs are their best friends and they often use a lot of bone magic. They have an extensive fossil and skull collection and are constantly pouring over old field guilds for their local area. They can whip up sandstorms in the blink of an eye, and befriend scorpions, snakes, and coyotes alike. They are an enduring species of witch, weathering everything the world has to throw at them. Few things dampen their spirits.

Moomins are extremely popular in Japan even today. Japan has also produced many of the Moomin animations, such as probably the most popular and well-known version, Tanoshii Mūmin Ikka (Moomin 1990 TV series). Tove visited Japan twice, in 1971 and 1990, to discuss deals on Moomins. On her first trip Tove even held a speech in Japanese and was complimented on how she pronounced the words.

Tove was both happy and confused by all this love her stories received. She tried to find an explanation to the invisible bonds between Japan and Finland. Tove came to the conclusion that the lack of worry in moominworld, as well as all the fun and joy of life in the stories were able to lighten Japanese anxiety and melancholy. Japanese people also shared Finnish people’s love for nature, especially the sea, islands and long beaches.

youtube

DEAN/CAS - CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE

Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.
“Perhaps one day, we will meet again as characters in a different story. Maybe we’ll share a lifetime then”

13x01 GAVE ME TOO MUCH FEELINGS SO HERE’S A VIDEO THAT I MADE OUT OF THEM.

What I Read This Week

(5/3/17)

Oh man, this week was WILD! So many great updates… I don’t know how I’m still alive tbh

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya, Explicit, 197k
Rivals AU where Yuuri’s main goal, ever since he was a child, is to beat Victor and win the GPF. SO MUCH ANGST (like, so much) and deliciously hot, hot, hot! You might die from reading this… it’s that good. It just finished today!

centripetal force by braveten, Explicit, 85k
Victor speaks seven languages. (Physics isn’t one of them.) Luckily, though, he ends up rooming with his antithesis: a shy, black-haired boy who just so happens to be a physics major. This also just finished today, it’s VERY cute!

Eggs, Coffee, Bread, Butter by LittleLostStar, Teen, 2.9k
Yuuri has a small adventure at a grocery store in St. Petersburg and everything is just adorable. Love!

A Marriage of True Minds by Pilomela, Teen, 25k (WIP)
When Viktor happens upon an old uncompleted paper Yuuri had been working on, he realizes just what a genius Yuuri is, and vows to help him not only get in, but graduate with top honors. However, just being Yuuri’s mentor isn’t really what Viktor had in mind. SO GOOD!

Aria: Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare by exile_wrath, Teen, 31k (WIP)
The tale of a lonely traveler, Victor Nikiforov, and his encounter with an equally lonely immortal man. This is amazing!!!!

Call Everything on the Ice… by shysweetthing, Explicit, 14k (WIP)
Victor learns Japanese while in Hasetsu. He doesn’t tell Yuuri, and things get dicey when he overhears Yuuri and Mari talking about him in Japanese. Repeatedly. I LOVE THIS

Dancing Daffodils by grayclouds, Mature, 14k (WIP)
“As Love gently wipes away the tears that trail down his cheeks something within Victor quakes, its tremors resonating throughout his entire being like a deafening echo. He is in the arms of a god.” aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAA

I Wanted To Check by insatiablerealist, Gen, 4.2k
Yuuri is an artist, Viktor is a ballet teacher, and they find themselves sharing an apartment in Barcelona. The only problem is they speak two different languages, but despite that, they fall in love. SO CUTE OMG

our doubts are traitors by astoryaboutwar, Explicit, 15k (WIP)
The powered assassins AU in which betrayal comes first, forgiveness second, and love was always somewhere in the equation. AMAZING

Beside the Dancing Sea by lily_winterwood, MapleTreeway, Explicit, 179k
New York Times-bestselling author Viktor Nikiforov arrives in the sleepy seaside town of Torvill Cove to cure his writer’s block. After encountering local wallflower Yuuri Katsuki at a party, he discovers that this mysterious dark-haired man has a couple secrets up his sleeve. This also just finished today!!!! MY HEART

Nerve Endings by Phyona, Explicit, 47k (WIP)
When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri’s anxiety and Victor’s secrets to find their balance. Love this fic so much!

(˃̶͈̀_˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾( ノ_ಠ)₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

Here’s to another week of great fic reading! Be sure to give the authors some love!

skdjfslkdfjsdf the sonic mania vid was so damn good i’m alive!!!!!!! i live for phil having way less of a filter and dan kind of just letting him take control of the game and share his passion for it while also letting him dominate the humor with his ridiculous comments and jokes. it was just so good, so obvi i gotta share my list of Moments: 

  • dan opens the vid talking about furry gateways so we already know we’re in for a ride
  • the drop-in of the clip of 2010!dnp playing sonic had me in tears within the first minute. wasn’t ready. will probably never be ready for flashbacks like that. did they watch that video back before filming? do they do that a lot? ugh. 
  • dan’s ‘nu uh can’t touch this honey’ complete w feigned spank of his own ass was a thing of beauty
  • ‘i like playing tails bc it’s closer to my furs-‘ dan reaffirms his overcooked statement that the only worthwhile fursonas are wolf/dog/fox
  • dan confesses to role playing as a psychic hedgehog at age 8 and phil couldn’t care less, he just wants to play the game
  • dan also confesses he’s too young to actually remember the first sonic game and subtly glances at phil as he says it. phil says ‘i’m not’ and then just does the cutest sheepish facial expression like he’s a little wary of admitting his age here but also at the same time doesn’t actually mind too much. it’s such an interesting little moment
  • ‘so keep up, biatch,’ phil says w feeling
  • omg phil describing dan’s role: ‘you’re like … my sous chef’ and then a giggle. the joking resentment left over from the overcooked stream is actually so funny. dan’s response is so funny. i love them
  • phil: ‘just stick with me, man’ why was that hot
  • dan: ‘this is an absolutely terrible friendship experience right now’
  • dan spends nearly two minutes trying to open a conversation with phil about how he doesn’t actually think sonic is that fun to play but he keeps getting interrupted slash probs doesn’t want to offend the shit out of phil lmaooo
  • omg when they switch levels and phil is like ‘is this vaporwave or sea punk’ aka two things he probs absolutely would not give a shit about were it not for sharing his life with dan. dan starts to say ‘well they’re kind of very similar subgenres …’ and phil is having none of that and interrupts him to go ‘just give me a yes or no’ LMAO I AM LIVING SHUT HIS ASS DOWN
  • phil: ‘i want those blue balls’
  • phil: ‘i’m close. i can taste that emeraldussy’
  • they high five and it’s awk and and phil says ‘that was awk’ and dan gives him a somehow simultaneously salty and fond look and i die
  • dan: ‘you get those blue balls, phil’
  • phil: ‘i ballsed it uppppp’
  • dan is just straight admiring phil’s gaming skills and tells everyone in the audience that this is exactly what they’ve been waiting for if they’ve been wanting to see exactly how good phil is at gaming
  • dan: ‘fuck. ing. hell. for god’s sake, lester’
  • phil: ‘my spine is tingling, and not in a good way’
  • phil: ‘dan, you are. the worst fox i’ve ever met’
  • dan wants tails and sonic to make out
  • phil caves to dan’s constant attempts to turn this video into furry propaganda and admits to having a deviantart account where he draws sonic in ‘various situations.’ bless. can we launch a fandom-wide effort to track it down lmao
  • phil offers to swap roles so dan can play more and dan declines because he thinks he’s shit. but he also feels the need to clarify that phil’s only offering bc this is being filmed lmao
  • dan: ‘bona, bonus, boners’
  • 10:41 a rare whiny!phil emerges when he wants to go into the water and isn’t able to. dan immediately searches for a way down. cuteeesdjflksdf
  • a return of their mocking bro culture by yelling bruhhh in increasingly obnoxious tones and then dan interjecting ‘bros who brunch’ with no other context other than to ostensibly ridicule the concept haha
  • phil just randomly yells ‘ass!’ and dan is living, i’m living, we’re all living
  • phil’s laugh when trolling dan that the doctor’s name is simon is so fucking intensely cute i actually felt pain in my heart
  • ‘dan’s ball time’
  • phil: ‘daddy’s home’
  • phil: ‘that is very penis-y’ dan: ‘it’s a giant eggman penis … i’ve mounted the dong’ phil: ‘mount him. i’m in his butt.’ dan: ‘i’ve taken one hole damage’ have i mentioned lately how very fricking gay dan and phil sometimes are
  • phil legit has to take a moment to collect himself after they’ve finished before saying the whole thing was more relaxed than he thought it’d be. was it, phil? idk but i’m def sweating 
  • they both like the same character at the end and phil asks dan if they should adopt it as their pet. dan just gives him a weird stare, and then phil amends pet to ‘caddy lad’ and i’m actually dying ahahahahaha. the caddy kink continues and the implications of them adopting/‘owning’ a caddy, the role that they’ve sexualized so much in the golf videos as being the sexy subservient cute guy who ‘carries your things’ is just so incredibly kinky lmao. if he was trying to avoid the perhaps romantic implications of their adopting a pet together then he unwittingly just said something so much worse. dan looks understandably incredibly uncomfortable and phil regrets nothing. meanwhile i regret ever stanning these guys
  • the whole ending is so rushed and awkward and full of word flubs and is basically just so appropriate for the wild shit they were on in this game. but it’s cute bc they keep giggling at each other and they’re both such absurd humans. this video was perfect
3

So, in honor of midsummer and the summer solstice I’ve teamed up with @witches-of-ouroboros and will be posting some seasonal witchy libations! First off is the most time consuming component of one of my cocktails, an infusion for summer vodka. Really it can be made or drank anytime if you have the ingredients and the time.

Supplies: rose petals and buds, chamomile, and elderflower, vodka, and a Mason jar.
The amount of each varies depending on the size of the Mason jar, but for the purpose of my example, I will be using an 8oz Mason jar.

Clean the jar well, even if it’s new. Hot water, soap, more hot water until all the soap is gone, and because I’m me, I pour a little vodka, and a splash of absinthe and swirl this all through the jar an lid both to give a final disinfection and, the absinthe adds a little more magical oomph. But absinthe is a topic for another day;)

I measured my dried* roses about a third if the way in the jar. Next a heaping tablespoon of chamomile, and another of elderflower. I added another few rose buds so it was just below the halfway point.
Top with vodka until you get a little bit below the rim!
Close tightly and shake once a day for the next 5-7
*dried flowers and herbs infuse faster and use up less space than fresh. If you have access to a large amount of fresh, food safe flowers and herbs for your infusions, have at it!

Almost forgot, taste it after five days and see if you want it stronger. It should have a delicate but noticeable flavor. Strain and store in a clean jar.

Roses have had their fair share in the histories and cultures. Used in love spells, prosperity and other rituals, the focus and intent of roses actually comes from a Greek legend concerning Aphrodite, the rose was created when the foam of the sea fell off her naked form, and her tears dyed the roses red. The rose represents a duality in love. Love of self, and love of another. New love and lost love.

Elderflowers are used to relieve emotional burdens and that feeling of being stuck, creating joy, and inviting prosperity and health into your life.

Chamomile is added for purification, prosperity and tranquility.

Roses are associated with water, vodka with earth, elderflower with the sun, and chamomile with fire.

More Hogwarts House Aesthetic
  • Gryffindor: Dancing ridiculously; procrastinating to no end; pounding music; thunderstorms; supermarket raids at midnight with their friends; bonfires; yelling across the room; outdoor concerts; complicated handshakes
  • Hufflepuff: Unexpected hugs from the back; cuddling in front of a fire; oversized sweatshirts; wind chimes; polaroids; cuddling in blankets; new recipes; baking at 2am; just cuddling in general; fairytales and short stories; wishing on dandelions
  • Ravenclaw: Playing an instrument or two or three; singing under their breath; finding people who listen to their book rants; study playlists; calligraphy; binge watching tv shows until 4am; ink splatters and unkept journals
  • Slytherin: Lighthearted teasing; sharing secrets; 3am texts; playing with their hair; leather jackets; museums; dark chocolate and sea salt; having someone who stays up with you on those restless nights
Moon Snails

🐚 Moon snail seashells belong to a species of predatory sea snails from the Naticidae family. 

🐚 Although Moon Snails vary in size and color, they are round, slightly coiled, and share a spiral shape design. 

🐚 Moon snails are also known as Necklace shells and can be used as a protective talisman or as wards for your home.

Associations: 

  • Cycles
  • Protection
  • Survival
  • Intuition
  • The Moon

Magical Uses:

These seashells can be used to - 

  • Protect you and your loved ones.
  • As Wards for your home.
  • To promote peace and tranquility during meditation.
  • As a talisman when worn as jewelry.
  • As a small flower pot.
  • As an altar tool to represent the Moon or Ocean waves.

My spells and tips that involve Moon Snail Seashells:

Unmarked links with * next to them are wips

Photo source [x]

Call It Suicide

A/N: Well, it’s been a full month since my last fic that I posted and I felt like it was time for a new one. Another Harry Styles fic because he’s such a legend and I love him so deal with it. This took me a good few days to finally finish, hence why it’s legit the longest thing I’ve ever written, because I wanted to get this really good because I literally write my fics in one night normally so enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it x.

Based on: ‘Suicide’ by James Arthur

Dedicated to: @twerkit-hxrry, and TheHSquad: @17-blackaf, @harryxmac, @snlhaz, @spectralstyles, @wishfulharrie, @stylishmuser, @hes-writings94, @the2k17harry, @roseonhissleeve, @hs-1dfan, @soloharrles, @mizpahes, @hcrrystyles, @hes-a-rainbow, @lovingstyles87, @namelesspops, @gemmadorrego, @ever-since-kiwi, @harry-writings, @harrywavycurly, @harryslittlekiwis, @hotmessharry

Warning(s): Cheater!Harry, sad themes, swearing, a section of smut with very minimal Daddy kink

Word count: 8,005

Pairing(s): Harry Styles x Reader / Harry Styles x OC (Original Character)



It ain’t the gun,
It’s the man behind the trigger.
Gets blood on his fingers and runs.
It ain’t the lie,
It’s the way that the truth is denied.


Four years.

A relationship that had withstood all trying odds thrown at it, time and time again. A relationship that, from the outside, never once seemed anything short of miraculous. Four years of that relationship had been a blessing and to her, nothing and no one could ever give her the satisfaction nor sensation of pure love and dedication, she feared she may never find something quite like it again.

It’s funny how certain situations arise, that are unexpected in the worst way possible, which make the mere thought of carrying on with the toxicity of a failed relationship unbearable.

It had taken a whole three months for her to coax a confession out of her tattooed lover which, during that time, almost made her physically ill to think about him, not only being sexually (but possibly also romantically) inclined with another woman, but lying so blatantly to her face about the multiple occasions he had, ‘ran out to get some deodorant’, during the dead of night, only to come back to their shared home in the morning with a different type of exuberant smell catching in the air from his body and clothing.

When confronted about this, however, the long-legged man stood in front of her, but yet, no eye-contact was maintained, and shook his head, pushing past the fragile woman he claimed to love for an extended period of time before slamming the heavy, mahogany bedroom door, muttering incoherent sentences on his way that normally consisted of, “Gettin’ on my fuckin’ last nerve”, and, “I ‘ave half the mind t’ leave you right fuckin’ now”.

Of course, it was when the luminous moonlight danced across the wooden floorboards of the bedroom, illuminating the whitewashed walls as if it was their own private, personal stage where they could showcase their undying love for one another, or so she once thought.

It was when the early hour of 3am came creeping around the corner with only the sounds of the wind whistling and the leaves whispering to keep her company as she laid in an empty, king-sized, luxurious bed that was meant to be a symbol of their companionship.

It was when she felt the all-too-familiar feeling of abandonment and loneliness twist inside her gut as fresh, hot tears sprung to her eyes and trickled down to her ears whilst unmoving and staring at the intricate detail of the high ceiling. She had been doing this for so many nights she was near confident that she could recite how many swirls and dots collected in the design from her counting.

Of course, it was then that she understood that she was no longer the apple of his eye. That he had escaped from her hold and found refuge in someone else’s arms. Someone else’s kiss. Someone else’s touch.

He would never admit this though, no, he would much rather sneak back into his own home where his significant other would lay, pretending to be asleep through her dry, tear-stained cheeks, rolled over to her side of the bed with him removing his clothes to slide skilfully underneath the untouched covers on his end, like he had been used to trying to not disturb her, before pressing a chaste kiss to her neck and whisper those three words that held no real regard.

He didn’t mean it.

Not since he started smelling like a perfume she could not recognise.

Every morning, a smell of fresh coffee and breakfast foods invaded his privacy that would jolt him awake, noticing his lady of four years had already made her side of the bed and left him a note in her cursive handwriting, that he used to adore, as she did routinely since they moved in together.

And every morning he would stalk downstairs to find her cooking for the both of them out of the kindness of her broken heart despite knowing about his infidelity and unfaithfulness before he wrapped his strong, manly arms around her trembling waist as sobs racked through her entire being.

Although, these said tears were soothed almost instantly as she felt the dry lips of the man she loved along her jawline and neck, peppering gentle kisses to her skin. She knew she shouldn’t be so easily swayed when he hadn’t even muttered a single word to her but she couldn’t control her feelings; feelings of anger and despair quickly dissolving into ones of adoration and desperation towards the figure looming over her.

A shaky hand was raised to caress his prickly, stubbly cheek as she closed her eyes and enjoyed one of the rare moments of intimacy the couple shared nowadays, willing herself not to shed any more saltwater from the seas swirling in her eyes.

A waft of the faint smell of cinnamon and honey contrasted with her regular scent of vanilla and fruits that brung her out of her Harry-induced daze, making her pull away from the man she could no longer trust.

“Don’t walk away from me. Please. No’ today.” He pleaded, she almost could have believed he was being genuine if it weren’t for the black lace thong she’d discovered discreetly hidden inside his trouser pocket whilst doing the laundry last Sunday. He knew this, yet he still didn’t bother to hide the piece of evidence elsewhere. It was almost as if he had wanted her to feel her heart drop to her stomach.

“Harry, by my walking away, it gives you the leverage you need t’ turn in the opposite direction and in'a her bed.” She spoke in rebuttal under her breath; hoping her words wouldn’t travel far enough and stop short before they could reach his ears; in a way, recreating how whenever she gave him her all, it never seemed to find its destination within him and instead go off-track.

Perhaps that was the reason why her love wasn’t reciprocated.

“Wha’ did you jus’ say t’ me?” The sound of heavy footsteps coming back round the large, marble countertop placed in the middle of the spacious kitchen to her after grabbing a snack from the cabinet, not only made her anxious but also incredibly uncomfortable as she never wanted to carry such negative conversations with the center of her affection, knowing that he would deny all the objectives she would present to him, similar to how he had before.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby.” She forced a fake smile onto her face, an expression she had grown accustomed to whenever she looked too deep into his pools of jade he called, ‘eyes’, digging out information she never thought she would have to read. She turned her body around to crash against his chiselled chest, trapping her between the oven and his own furnace, his body giving out warmth she used to find comfort in. “I didn’t say anything important, I promise, now gimme a kiss.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer he was provided with, he leant in to press his lips hard against hers and rested his palms on her hips.

Undoubtedly, it was one of the most difficult things she had ever had to do. To kiss him as if her heart wasn’t crumbling like the walls around her; suffocating her, was too much to bare as she finally pushed him away and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

“How dare you stand here and kiss me with tainted lips you’ve put on another girl. How dare you stand here and pretend you’re committed t’ us. And how dare you stand here and make me a fool for loving you when you go out and make love t’ that woman you found at a dingy, dark nightclub one lonely winter’s night.” The streams of emotions flowed down her red, puffy cheeks as she expressed her discontent and disappointment from within.

It had been a long time coming and she knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Not when he made no effort to admit to his wrongdoings, but instead gave her false hope towards a relationship that was barely alive.

His arms tried to reach out towards his beautiful explosion but she couldn’t stand to look at him for longer than she had already endured and backed away from his softening stare.

He couldn’t continue his façade, not anymore.

“No, sweetheart, please…” He began to somehow explain months of late nights and cold shoulders, but she had heard and lived through everything she needed to in order to make her final decision as she knuckled away her falling tears and practically sprinted to the bedroom to collect her belongings. “It jus’ happened! It was out of my control, baby, you have t’ believe me!”

She had to leave.

No more could she sit there and act as if they were the couple they used to be in the beginning. No more could she sit there and act as if he was the man she fell in love with.

The door clicked shut just as she zipped up her suitcase, signalling he’d now entered the room that was once filled with the purity of their love. The moment he slept next to her curled up body in the middle of the Stygian night after he spent his evening in a stranger’s bed, the barrier was broken and was replaced by one of deception and distrust.

His feet padded furiously against the pristine, fluffed rug situated at the center of the space before slamming his hand on top of the lid of the luggage in an attempt to keep the woman he genuinely loved deep down from leaving him.

“Harry. Get your hand off.” She threatened with a calm, gentle voice which she never used unless she was livid behind her cool, collected nature.

“Listen t’ me. I didn’t mean for this t’ happen, I didn’t mean t’ lie t’ y-…” He, again, was cut off by her forcefully lugging her property out from under his grasp and onto the floor with a loud ‘bang’.

“It wasn’t the lie! It was never the lie! I’ve known for months, Harry. ’S the way you denied the truth every single time I asked you about it! And if you’re implying that that’s the worst of it, I don’t even wanna think about the things you’ve done t’ her and vice versa.” She stayed glaring straight into his watery irises for a few seconds before spinning on her heel and walking out, deserting a broken man with his broken heart gazing at the now wide-open entrance with traces of her vanilla scent lingering but her nowhere to be found.


You’ve been killing softly and finally,
That is too much. (Oh)
And I’m all out of whiskey,
To soak up the damage you’ve done. (Oh)


         You would think drowning her sorrows in her tears and heartbreak would’ve been enough to express her emotions but no. She had managed to find herself amongst sweaty, filthy bodies in a large bar from which she had drunk her fifth glass of strong alcohol, she could barely see straight.

With the toxic fluids coursing through her veins, the pumping bass of the latest chart-topper beating her heart for her, and conversations of the blurred people around her resounding in her psyche, she had had enough.

Hard to believe, but it was a rare occurrence that she would even bother to dress herself up and emerge from her temporary abode, with her estranged high school friend she had recently been in contact with, to appear at the local bar she used to go to with Harry whenever they wanted to get away.

It used to be a sort of sanctuary for the two of them. It used to be a chance to just talk about their day and their feelings to each other without anyone else prying into their business. But now it was, and would forever be, “the place where he met her”.

“The place where he inadvertently broke the bond between lovers which he vowed to never do”.

Yet still, there she was.

Sitting alone on a high stool, gripping the side of her glass so tightly that the beads of condensation evaporated under the red heat of her fingers and inner turmoil.

She had just been staring at the wine glasses hanging down from the ceiling, like bats in a cave, whilst downing her beverage in record speed which allowed her to move swiftly onto her next drink. Even the bartender had started to get conscious of her intake and that was enough for him to then refuse to supply another source of liquor.

Her newly rekindled friendship with her high school classmate had been put to the test that evening and unfortunately, by her having no one she knew around in her presence, let her know that she need not care for the whereabouts of her friend as they didn’t care for hers after the second round of alcohol.

The sudden deprivation of a stinging solution making its way down her throat since she had been scolded like a child for the excessiveness of her drinking, made her mind wander into the fields of betrayal that replaced the meadows of happiness she used to frolic in with the man she used to think she would one day marry.

As soon as her gaze fixated on the empty glass in front of her, the saline tears poured over the barrier of her waterline and left her silently sobbing through her harrowing heartbreak.

Dying from a broken heart was something she had only read about in the news and never once believed it to ring true but as she sat there, in Harry and her bar, she could practically feel her chest contracting and splitting into two halves. Although, she didn’t really understand how considering he still had her heart in the palm of his hands and desperate for his love.

The mere sight of a grown woman openly, and drunkenly, weeping must’ve been hard for surrounding strangers to handle since by the time she had ceased her muffled cries to soft sniffles and looked up with bloodshot, sore eyes - most of the partygoers she had mixed in with had departed and left only her and a few stragglers behind with a busied bartender wiping down spilt beverages with a cloth.

The palms of her hands were raised to her reddened face and rubbed over her features to try and soothe her outburst of feelings as a heavy sigh was blown out from her pale lips in response to the heavyweight she felt in her chest.

Heels clicked on the floor of the building as she dug into her purse to find flimsy pieces of paper that represented a form of payment she could offer the man behind the counter for the alcohol she had consumed.

“On the ‘ouse.” A clear, but deep voice sounded from in front of her as her glass was collected, “Yeh look like yeh had a bad one so don’t worry 'bout it.”

Her hard and focused stare switched from her trying to find her money in her purse to kind, pitiful, sapphire eyes as she faced the generous bartender.

“Noo. No, I can’t jus’ no’ payy yew. ’Ve 'ad like nine'een drinkss-..” Her slurred speech in between her not-so-subtle sniffs and hiccups made the stranger chuckle and she watched how his shoulders moved, fascinated by the way they were connected to his body that she felt the need to touch hers to confirm her suspicions that yes, she had shoulders too.

“Don’t mention it, love, I’ll call you a taxi.” He informed the unsteady woman the other side of the counter before picking up his phone and dialling a number he knew off by heart from the amount of times he had to ring because of previous passed out customers.

Love.

A completely innocent and everyday nickname she had been called before by many people, but this particular time made her legs shake and her lip quiver as she fought to hold back more streams of sadness.

Harry used to call her, “love”.

Harry used to show her love.

And Harry used to give her love.

But that was all gone.

All of it wasted and bestowed onto the other woman in her relationship.

She supposed it was a good thing that he had decided to take that route. She supposed it was a good thing that he made it clear she wasn’t enough. That she wasn’t what he wanted. That way she could confidently move on and find another to treat her right.

But her heart wouldn’t allow it.

Her heart remained in the familiar hands of her puppeteer and continued to make his own lovesick puppet out of her. Why? She may never understand. She only knew that he had a fatal hold on her; squeezing ever so softly but growing tighter with each and every day that passed by, that she feared she might have wound up helpless and perishing in his addicting arms.

He had been killing her softly, albeit unknowingly, but she had finally decided it was too much and escaped his grasp physically.

His emotional duress on her, however, was a different story altogether which she thoroughly believed she would never be able to evade.



If there is one thing that I’m guilty of,
It’s loving and giving when you take too much.

//•//
If there’s anything I’m guilty of,
It’s loving you too much.


         “Harry, stop!” The exclamation was followed by a giggle as she extended her hands out to cover the lens of the new, vintage camera she had purchased especially for him on their third year anniversary as a strong, steady couple.

“You’re jus’ the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, darlin’, I 'ave t’ take photos t’ capture your beauty.” He exaggerated and winked when he switched his eyes to stare at her smiling face rather than through the viewfinder.

“Ew, you’re such a dork.” A pillow was lugged at his head which, as a result, made his curls fly out in every direction possible, him then looking like a human version of Simba. “You look the most attractive you’ve ever looked right now, baby.” A snort came from her button nose as she reached for the device in his hands, turning it on him and clicking the shutter multiple times at different angles.

“And you just sounded the most attractive you’ve ever sounded.” He spoke in rebuttal before shaking his hair out of his face and tamed it slightly.

A playful pout was brought upon her lips as a sign of her disappointment that her masterpiece was ruined but she continued to shoot amateur pictures of the stunning man with legs either side of her hips since she would never tire of looking at his perfectly structured face and features that were God’s gift.

“Oi, ’m s'posed t’ be taking pictures of you, my love.” His hands found their way to his hips and she figured that, in that moment, he had never looked more adorable so the shutter sounded once more to signal that she’d documented the sight on the roll of film in the camera. “’M gonna need yeh t’ stop before I get rowdy.”

“Rowdy?” A loud guffaw sounded as she lowered the camera down to her lap and just merely glanced up at the mess of curls on top of her in disbelief and fond. “I’d like t’ see you try t’ get 'rowdy’, honey, you’re the most calm and collected person I know.”

As soon as she placed the photographic equipment to one side, her arms were pinned above her head by a strong force coming from her short-haired lover and before she knew it, she could feel his fringe tickling her forehead since he leant forwards and hovered over her.

“I can be rowdy when I wan’ to, yeh know that more than anybody, pet.” He lowered his voice down at least one octave as he spoke, a glint of mischief in his sparkling eyes.

“Mm…” She pretended to think as a borderline seductive hum sounded from her throat. “I have no idea wha’ you’re talkin’ about, H.” A shake of her head only further exaggerated her point as she tried to prove her unknowingness and innocence.

A low, breathy chuckle resounded from deep in his chest, seemingly-always-minty breath fanning over her face gently, before he pressed a loving peck to her plump lips.

It was intimate moments like these where she felt she had never been more content, nor could she probably ever be more content without him.

It was intimate moments like these where she felt almost certain that there would never be another man more catered to her soul as he was and she intended on keeping him forever.

“‘M gonna love you ‘til the day I die.” The soft whisper coming from his lips transferred onto hers and she could feel tingles rush throughout her body. “Ev’ry day I spend with you jus’ gets better and better, I don’t know wha’ you’re doin’ t’ me.”

A caressing touch was brought to his cheeks as she pulled his face up to stare into his emerald eyes. She never got tired of looking into the windows of his soul - she thought as if they held information about himself that was only revealed if someone was to gaze intently into them.

“And ev’ry day I spend with you, makes me wan’ t’ never live another day without yeh, you’re my world.” A grin started to grow on his features but she carried on before he had the chance to reply, fearing that if she didn’t tell him what she had wanted to for so long, she might never get the opportunity, nor courage, to again. “You, Harry Edward Styles, are the reason tha’ ev’ry morning when I lie in bed next t’ you, I wan’ t’ scream at how much I adore watching you yawn and stretch when yeh make that little noise to shake the tiredness off. You are the reason tha’ ev’ry night when we take a shower together, I wan’ t’ kiss yeh until our lungs give out because I don’t ever wan’ t’ stop. You are the reason tha’ ev’ry time when I see yeh performing, I wan’ t’ jus’ run up on stage with you and show ev’rybody there that you’re mine and how proud I am of you. Words will never be able to describe how much I’m smitten with you, Harry, you’re the most amazing guy ‘ve ever met and I’ll be damned ‘f I see another chick on your arm.” She had to pause momentarily as she felt a familiar touch wiping away a stray tear that had trickled down her cheek in the heat of her emotions before nervously laughing and continuing to finish her mini-speech. “I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, I don’t think you’ll understand.”

The only response that was mustered from the tanned man was a shake of the head in disbelief at the meaningful moment that she had just shared with him, he felt a slight twinge in his stomach he couldn’t identify before placing his elbows either side of her head, careful not to rest on her sprawled out hair, and, once more, pressing his raspberry lips against hers in a passionate seal of affection.

He shifted his weight onto his forearms in order to place himself in between her bent legs without breaking their kiss and let out a quiet groan of satisfaction against her mouth. Her hands reached up to tangle in his cut curls, tugging on them lightly just as a teaser. He ended up cupping her behind as he pulled away from her soft lips to flip their bodies over to allow for him to be the one on his back and situated his woman on top of his hips, squeezing hers temporarily as an indication to keep kissing him.

And when has she ever refused him?

A small smile appeared on her face before dropping her top half down onto his chest and reconnecting their pairs of lips. Hands pressed to his firm chest as legs straddled his frame before trailing her fingers gently down to the hem of his shirt.

“Take it off, baby.” A breathless plea was heard from the man underneath her which gave her the boost of confidence she felt she needed which encouraged her to remove the first item of clothing from his toned body and she couldn’t help but run her hands up and down his beautiful torso. “Now le’ me see you.”

She raised her own top over her head herself and threw it somewhere unknown, just as she did his t-shirt, and revelled in his reaction to her reveal, noting the way he trailed his eyes up her exposed chest and bit his lip. “Look a’ you. My gorgeous girl.”

She felt the rose colour blush onto her cheeks, she thought she would’ve been better off as a traffic light, before she looked down to try and hide the obvious effect he had on her but was stopped by his forefinger lifting up her chin and guiding the other hand to the clasp of her lace bra, unclipping it expertly with a single movement, and looking at her intense eyes. “I never wan’ you t’ feel like you have to hide around me.” The straps fell down her shoulders as soon as she relaxed her arms to remove the piece of lingerie, giving her significant other a firsthand view of her bare chest, whilst he fondled her breasts generously and massaged them. “You’re beautiful and you’re mine, I wan’ yeh t’ believe it.”

Her head tilted backwards at the sensation of him having her cupped in his hands and lovingly playing with her as she felt a tweak on her left nipple and a wet tongue flick on her right. A short intake of air gasped from her throat in surprise at the sudden attention but she wasn’t complaining.

To show her gratitude, she found that her hips started to grind down on him - both their clothed crotches rubbing against one another, making them both let out a soft sound of appreciation.

“Wanna taste you…” She chirped after she had plucked up the courage to tell him while his mouth was still on her, alternating between each nipple.

“’M not stopping yeh, baby.” He spoke in reply as he detached himself from her boobs, giving them playful, but gentle, little smacks, and watched them jiggle slightly to his amusement.

By him taking it upon himself to lay back down, she took it as a sign to hop off him momentarily and hook her thumbs inside the matching lace material of her panties (she hadn’t bothered to put on bottoms - she liked wearing his shirts) before swaying her hips side-to-side. She liked to give him his own private show every once in awhile to watch him grow harder within the constraints of his jeans as he watched her.

Some could say she had a slight kink for exhibiting herself for him and she felt proud that he liked what he saw every time, enough to show off that cheeky smirk of his that she loved so much and bite his lip.

She successfully managed to drop the skimpy thong to the floor and stepped out of it, rendering her completely naked, whilst she crawled back onto the bed and in between his spread legs.

Her hand flew straight the the button of his skin-tight, charcoal jeans and pulling down the zip slowly, flicking her eyes up to see his face that construed his impatience. A light titter came from her lips as she begun to pull the waistband of the item of clothing down his legs and off his body teasingly, planting pecks down his thighs and legs in the process but intentionally avoiding where he needed her most. “God, sweetheart, please.” He started to beg, he couldn’t wait anymore. He felt painfully hard already and she wasn’t doing anything to relieve it - just make it worse.

“Oh, ‘m sorry, honey, I didn’t realise you wanted me so bad.” She feigned innocence with a pout of her bottom lip before she grinned mischievously and palmed him through his boxers.

The sudden attention to his most sensitive area made him rut his hips forward onto her hand with a half-arsed apology mumbled from him before a low groan erupted, interrupted by her reaching up and connecting her lips to his in a kiss as she continued to work him through the thin material.

As she felt a wet patch forming due to the pre-cum leaking from his tip, she concluded that there had been enough teasing so she pulled herself away from his luscious lips as his boxers followed suit with his jeans and were tossed aimlessly somewhere in the room.

Standing to attention, the red, aching head of his dick looked too enticing for her to ignore as she started to give him kisses and kitten licks. A small growl of approval from him gave her the confirmation she needed to then flatten her tongue against the underside of him and lick a stripe along him until she reached the tip, swirling her tongue around it like a lollipop.

A shiver was sent through his body as he looked down at his lover and gripped her hair in his fist. He watched her lips wrap around his, he must admit, larger-than-average size and take as much as she could fit in her mouth before she began to suck.

A strangled cry came from him as she unexpectedly opened up her throat and attempted to take all of him. As soon as her nose touched his trimmed hairs, he let out a yelp of pleasure since he felt himself at the back of her throat before she gagged, making the muscles clench around him which made it feel even more pleasurable.

“Shit, you take my cock so good.” That sentence alone was enough to make her feel on top of the world as she pulled off to catch her breath for a second, a string of spit still connecting her to him as he reached down to swipe it up with his fingers and proceeded to press them to her mouth, making her open up and taste him.

“You taste amazing.” She praised him back, knowing that it’ll give him the confidence boost he needed to really fuck her into the mattress soon.

After her regular breathing was regained, she, once again, dived back onto his pulsing manhood and begun to hollow out her cheeks around him whilst working her tongue around his girth but making sure no teeth were present as she bobbed.

Constant affirmations of pleasure tumbling from his bitten lips only made her move faster before she raised one hand to what she couldn’t fit in and expertly moved it in sync with her mouth.

“Fuck, if yeh keep goin’ like tha’, baby, ‘m gonna cum.” The warning was enough to convince her to pull off of him with a ‘pop’ and sit back onto her knees, looking down at him with a virtuous look on her face but with spit dripping down her chin. “You look sinful, yeh fuckin’ tease.”

She had to bite her lip to hide a subtle smirk and she kissed up his torso before sitting back on his hips, making sure to be just in front of his length so he could rest on her arse as she bent down to give him a passionate, open-mouthed kiss.

His large hands roamed her back as he reciprocated the kiss by pushing his tongue in, meeting hers. An enticing hum was let out as she circled her hips gently, rubbing up against his already throbbing cock. He pulled away only to duck down and start to press his mouth against her neck, beginning to suck bruises into her skin to mark her as his to everyone that looked.

Her tease only further continued as she heard him groan in desperation when she rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot before he decided he couldn’t take it anymore and threw her down onto the bouncy bed as he held himself up with his hands, adjusting to be perfectly slotted in between her legs that locked together around his torso as she ran her fingers through his hair that fell down.

“Harry?…” She spoke up in a soft voice and he could feel her breath on his face by how close they were.

“Mhm?” He reached down to position himself against her clit and began to jut his hips forward and back eliciting a high-pitched squeal.

“F-Fuck me.” She had the wind knocked out of her as soon as he entered her before she could finish her request.

Both parties let out loud moans as they both felt each other in the most intimate way possible. He let her adjust to his size impatiently since it took all of him to not move inside of her. The warm, wet walls of her womanhood drove him crazy and he swore he nearly came undone already when she clenched around him.

“You ready, honey?” He asked shakily, he just wanted to feel every inch of her.

A timid nod came from her a few seconds later signalling her consent and he wasted no time in dragging himself out until just the tip was engulfed before plunging back into her tight hole, encouraging another in-sync moan.

Gradually, he picked up a regular rhythm and fastened his speed as soon as she muttered the words, “faster” and “harder”. The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the air mixed in with their combined moans and groans.

“Yeh feel so good, so deep.” She plucked up the confidence to try her hand at some dirty talk he had never heard from her before but he had to admit, he felt himself twitch at her words.

“God, you’re killin’ me.” He shivered as he picked up his pace.

“Yeah?…” She smirked as she leant up to press her wet lips against his, moaning against them. “Fuck, Harry, don’t stop.”

Every word she said stroked his ego even more and it turned him on to no extent to get praise that he was doing everything she wanted. With a few more hard thrusts, he felt the familiar twist in his stomach.

“You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum for Daddy?” The nickname just slipped from his parted lips as he breathed heavily but it didn’t go unnoticed by her, making her let out an exaggerated moan to let him know.

“Mm, Daddy’s so good t’ me.” She paused to peck his lips once more before arching her back as he brushed against that special spot. “‘M gonna cum. Want yeh t’ cum inside me.” She whispered.

Never had she been so relieved she had decided to take up the pill since she never wanted to stop feeling this level of ecstasy.

Hearing those words whispered so filthily from her cherry red mouth tipped him over the edge as he released hard, surrounded by her squeezing walls, which in turn, caused her to become sensitive and orgasm with him still deep inside of her as they both yelled each other’s names in pleasure.

The only noises that could be heard was their heavy breathing and the parting of lips as they gave each other loving pecks, trying to come down from their highs as he carefully pulled out.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me, you know?” She rolled onto her side to face the man that collapsed by her side and cuddled up to him, tracing the watch she had given him as a second Valentine’s Day present. In fact, she had the watch that matched. It came as a couple’s collection, what could she say?

“I know, baby girl. ‘N’ I love you very much.” He replied tiredly as he followed her movements on the timepiece.

“I love you too.”

         Though, how was she to know that he told her empty promises and gave her false assumptions?

The watch she had given him? He had unexpectedly dropped the bomb on her that he had supposedly ‘lost’ it one day nonchalantly, as if he didn’t really care, after coming back from one of his never ending nights out.

She still had hers.

She never took it off since she bought them both unless she showered and went to bed.

She always put it back on in the mornings even if she didn’t have plans. She just loved having the strap to remind her of their love when he wasn’t around.

However, whenever they fought, it always seemed to her that he forgot to speak with an underlying tone of adoration like she did since she could never really stay angry at him. Always pinpointing the cons of the situation they were arguing about and making her feel guilty that she even brought it up.

But ever since she packed up and walked away from his hold on her, she figured that the only thing she was genuinely guilty of, was loving him too much. Giving him too much.

She gave him everything she had to offer and during the first few years, she thought it was enough for him to believe she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

It was only when she started to feel her grip on him slipping away from her that she knew she was his second choice. Something that she never wanted to be.


If somebody asks how we died,
Please look them straight in the eye.
Call it, “suicide”.
Don’t fabricate, just tell 'em, babe.
It was suicide.
Don’t sugarcoat it, just let them know.


         The two men stood conversing with each other as they discussed the art that was on display for the event they were invited to. They had been colleagues before; however, they had lost contact after one of them took up a new job opportunity, meeting again after a good year or so and decided to catch up.

The art gallery consisted of the most recent masterpieces from unknown artists around the globe. It was an event organised to give exposure to struggling individuals chasing their dreams and it was people like Harry and his status who were invited to review the artworks and buy them if they were impressed. All the money earnt from these purchases go back to the original artists, which in turn, correlated to more of said artists’ pieces being on display in the future.

The prices they were going for weren’t exactly the cheapest either.

“‘Ey, didn’t your girl wan’ t’ be an artist?” Obviously, the break-up hadn’t reached the likes of Harry’s newfound pal yet and it instantly wiped the smile off of his face.

“Yeah.” A remorseful chuckle was puffed out, “Yeah, she did…”

“Actually, where is she? Yeh should’ve brought her along, yeh idiot, she would’ve loved this! Las’ time I saw yeh both, you couldn’t leave each other alone.” The uninformed man stood next to him gave him a playful nudge and a wink of the eye without noticing the sudden deflation of his friend.

“She, uh… She’s not my girl anymore.” He finally confessed after swirling his drink in his cup as he was pondering whether or not to actually tell the man beside him.

“Oh, shit, H, I didn’t mean t’-…” He began to apologise for being so insensitive but was interrupted by a shake of a curly head.

“‘S all good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” His eyes cast downwards, losing the twinkle in his eyes as he tried to smile genuinely.

“If yeh don’t mind me asking, mate, wha’ happened? You seemed so happy.” A hand was placed on his shoulder roughly as a form of comfort as he sighed heavily.

“It just… Didn’t work out.” A dismissive sip of his beverage came afterwards as the guilt of brushing his four-year relationship off like it was nothing came creeping up on his conscience.

“D’yeh really expect me t’ believe that, Harry?” The questioning tone of the man that clearly didn’t believe his reason for the end of his relationship only made Harry feel even worse about his disregard and internally convinced him to elaborate.

“It was my fault.” He rubbed his hand over his face, he didn’t realise actually talking about it would affect him this much - especially in public. “I, um… God. I cheated on her.”

The recoil of the friendly hand on his shoulder signified the disappointment his friend felt towards him but kept his mouth shut, willing him to continue to explain.

“She was everything I thought I wanted, that I needed. I had no doubt that she was the woman I could spend the rest of my life with.” Harry painfully started to release his pent up feelings ever since she walked away from him the week before. “I still think she is, you know?…”

He trailed his sentence off like he was ashamed to admit his feelings. He felt as if he didn’t even deserve to mention her name, let alone keep thinking about their future together. He pulled himself together, though, he owed her character enough to explain the situation fully and not give people even the faintest idea that it was her that caused the death of their relationship.

“I ruined four years of the happiest times of my life, Nick, for nothing… It was ‘bout five or so months. It lasted for five months. It jus’ happened, I never wanted to jeopardise wha’ her and I had bu’ it was when she was away for one of her work trips.” He felt the water building up behind his eyes, ready to start falling at anytime but he had to get it out. He didn’t care if he was in public or not, it had been eating him alive not being able to talk about it with anyone. “I went t’ the bar her and I always went when we were free. We used t’ talk for hours about jus’ anything. Each other. Our days. Our families. Our future… How much we loved each other…”

He had to quieten his voice at the end otherwise he knew he would’ve burst out into ugly tears. Not like he hadn’t been doing exactly that ever since the front door closed of their shared home. Well. His home. He didn’t even think it was a ‘home’ anymore. She was the one who made it feel like a home to him and when she left, it was just a building in which he slept in every night. With all of her belongings gone after she had come to pick up the rest, catching him in his time of vulnerability when he opened the door where he hoped she would’ve been back in his arms within the hour, it was just a house. There was no warmth left within its walls; only faded memories he tried so hard to block out as he spent his nights with a skimpily-clad woman he didn’t even know the middle name of.

“I met her at that same bar and we jus’ got t’ talking. I told her how lonely I felt with the love of my life away for weeks over a few drinks I bought us. By the time she was running her hand up ‘n’ down my leg, I wasn’t in my senses and jus’ allowed her to. The first time she kissed me the same night, I couldn’t stop her even if I tried - I was so far gone. And I… I enjoyed it. It’d been so long since I actually held someone close, video calls and textin’ can only do so much, y’know? ‘Fore I knew it, I woke up the next morning in someone else’s bed and her naked body beside mine in the exact same state. All of it jus’ spiralled out of my control from there, she never stopped callin’ me for another hook up and I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘no’… I should’ve, I know I should’ve, I had a perfect life with the perfect girl but I guess, for a moment, I wanted something else. Somethin’ new.” He didn’t even attempt to hide his shame as he looked up towards the ceiling to keep the rivers that flowed in his eyes at bay.

“She didn’t even try t’ leave as soon as she found out. She told me she knew at the third month about wha’ I was doin’ and said she stayed t’ try and change my mind.” He brought a closed fist up to his mouth, refusing to break down in such a public place, and already receiving a few judgemental stares from passersby as he struggled to contain his emotions. “God, she tried t’ change my mind…” He weakly let out a breath. “She did ev’rything for me. Her attitude towards me never changed at all, she still loved me with ev’rything she had. The best girl I could’ve ever asked for was all mine and I didn’t even give her a second glance most nights when I climbed into bed with her after I came on another girl’s tits.” His sudden outburst of anger directed at himself brought unwanted attention from the few that surrounded him, earning some disapproving stares and shushes.

“Why don’t yeh call her, H? You’re in bits.” A piece of advice was given to him from Nick who stood silently throughout his whole rant. The reply to it, however, was a mocking laugh as Harry threw his head back.

“Would you forgive me if you were her?” He stared blankly at the artwork in front of him, they must’ve been stood there for 10 minutes at the least.

Once again, silence was the dumbfounded man’s only response to his rhetorical question, and that was all Harry needed to nod to himself as if he finally understood. That he finally let it sink in that his relationship was indefinitely over and there was nothing he could’ve done to make it better.

There was only so many tears he could hold in at that moment before he couldn’t physically keep his wall up and all the emotions came rushing through the floodgates of his distress and trauma.

He had managed to keep himself together for all of the times he had to inform acquaintances of his new relationship status by simply brushing it off and saying exactly what he had told Nick at the beginning. But it had become too much for the secretly heartbroken man finally, and there he was. Sobbing disgustingly into his hand as he tried to cover his cries up to leave at least some of his dignity remaining intact.

He had come to the conclusion that it was never what she had done. It was never what she had said. And it was never what he thought he felt; like he just fell out of love with her. But it was everything to do with the way she still loved him unconditionally after acknowledging his unfaithfulness to her and it made his heart hurt.

By realising this too late, he had to live with himself knowing that he pushed her too far off the edge and that he actually did love her after all.

He still loved her.

But instead of falling asleep to the sight of her radiant face - peaceful as she cuddled into his body, he had to tell everyone that he, himself, killed the best relationship he had ever been in.


He had to call it ‘suicide’.

“Mama,” Bitty whispers, half asleep. Suzanne hums and continues to gently stroke the hair at his temple away from his eyes. “Mama, please don’t be mad.”

He’s been home for less than twenty-four hours, but hasn’t stopped panicking the entire time. Even now, his head resting on the couch cushion beside where his mother sits, his eyelids fluttering shut in exhaustion while the movie they were pretending to watch drones on before him, even now, he knows better than to let his guard down.

“Mad? Dicky, sweetheart, I could never–”

“Don’t lie to me.” The words are precise and practiced, even as he starts to drift off into sleep.

Suzanne never once pauses or hesitates in her gentle ministrations. The love and care in her fingertips as they slide along Bitty’s forehead, over the shell of his ear, down the bridge of his nose… it never wavers, never suggests anything other than the same familial intimacy they’ve always shared.

“I’m not mad,” she whispers back.

Bitty blinks and notices her eyes furtively darting towards the door to the den, where a baker’s dozen of football enthusiasts are currently monopolizing Coach’s time. 

He pretends not to notice and turns his face to hide his yawn in the back couch cushions.

“I love you more than I can stand, Dicky. I love you to the moon and back and then some. To the very top of the sky–”

“–and to the very bottom of the sea,” Bitty finishes, and smiles tiredly.

Suzanne smiles back. She traces her ring finger lightly across Bitty’s brow. “I’m so sorry we ever gave you reason to doubt us.”

The movie ends and the credits begin. If they had the television tuned into any broadcast network right now, all they would see is Jack’s steady gaze and slightly trembling hands from an interview filmed two weeks prior. The only thing on that screen would be Jack Zimmermann’s brave face along with every damn commentator in the world’s opinions about what it means that the hockey prodigy has a boyfriend.

No one here, save Bitty’s mother, knows who that boyfriend is.

Bitty can feel tears form and threaten to fall, pushing at the edges of his now closed eyes. He wishes he were with Jack right now, but Jack has his own mother whose warm embrace he’s currently in as he and Bitty both hide out for the next week and try not to draw any unnecessary attention.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Bitty responds. There are so many sorry’s between them now, it feels like they’ll never make it out the other end to the easy relationship they had before the words “I’m gay” left Bitty’s mouth this morning.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Sugar.” Suzanne’s hand pauses briefly as she leans down and gently kisses his forehead. 

Bitty sighs and feels himself start to sink into unconsciousness. It’s been one of the longest and most stressful days of his life. He  can’t even imagine what it will be like to tell Coach. 

“You’re safe here, Baby,” his mother soothes. “You will always be safe with me.”

Bitty falls into a fitful sleep, but with a small smile on his face, and his mother’s attentive, gentle hands tucking him in.

Comfort Inn Ending | 4

“It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.”

pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: angst, smut
wordcount: 8.3k
inspiration

part one | two | three | fourfive | six | seven


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cryptidsanonymous  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this


Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.

~

Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”

~

Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?

~

There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.

~

Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”

~

She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.

~

Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.

~

Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.


gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

YOI  Fan Rec Friday

Thank you for all these recs! I am so excited to read them all :)

Rec’d by @kookyfan​:
Never Too Late by Soprano, Gen, 20k (WIP)
Victor Nikiforov was not allowed to pursue skating as a child. In the end he still became a star, even if not quite the kind he had wanted to be.
His dream, however, never truly died, and going into his 30s, he decided to enter the world of adult figure skating, with the help of his new coach, Katsuki Yuuri.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The World Opened With You by DiAnna44, Teen, 10k
Despite the smiles famous violinist Victor Nikiforov puts on for the world, he’s been in a slump for almost two years, and no longer views himself as worthy of his fame. When he’s paired up to play a duet with esteemed pianist Yuuri Katsuki, he finds inspiration once again, and maybe even something more.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
28 Tuxes by vodkawrites, Teen, 19k (WIP)
While planning his 28th wedding, Yuuri begins to wonder if he can ever find love for himself.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @alipiee​:
The Selection by Galloping_Monroe, Mature, 147k (WIP)
Returning home on the tail end of an injury that ends his dancing career, Yuri Katsuki is trying to find his future again. As a Five, he knows his options are limited, but when he finds an invitation to Crown Prince Victor Nikiforov’s Selection, he is convinced by a friend to apply. He never thought he’d be Selected. When he is, he finds that his world is changed forever, and that the Crown Prince is not exactly what he’d expected.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
learn to love the skies I’m under
by LinneaKou, Mature, 11k (WIP)
The day after the Sochi GPF banquet, Katsuki Yuuri disappears without a trace. The day after the Sochi GPF banquet, Viktor Nikiforov finds a stray poodle and takes it home with him. These two events are, oddly enough, connected.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Softness by selkiegirl, Not Rated, 4.9k
Mila only really, truly, understands Katsuki Yuuri after watching him skate.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
and now…we meet by savedbythenotepad, Gen, 8.4k
Yuuri finally meets his bondmate, after fifteen years, in an aquarium where the turtles are.

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Rec’d by anonymous:
Memories by Theladyofravenclaw, Gen, 2.3k
It’s moments like these that remind him of how lucky he is to be in love and have this love with him, these snapshots of time that make all the rest even more memorable. They are moments he could never forget.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
the more you’ve rampaged, the more you’ll understand kindness by terrierlee, 11k
Yuuri Katsuki never thought he would be chosen to save the world, but when you are personally asked for the task and your best friend tags along for the ride, Yuuri wouldn’t have it any other way. Wait what do you mean his idol/love of his life is also a Power Ranger too???

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Across the Universe by Anonymous, Teen, 22k (WIP)
In an alternative universe, Yuuri has just won the GPF at Sochi — and he’s miserable. He lost everything that mattered to him several years ago when a tsunami hit Hasetsu, and after throwing himself into his skating, he’s achieved gold, but the win is hollow without others there to share it. Things change when he’s transported to another universe, where GPF champion Victor Nikiforov is about to drown himself in the Black Sea. According to legend, only those with a deep connection can draw someone from across the universe. But Yuuri and Victor have never met before in their respective worlds; perhaps someone out there knew how much they needed each other. 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Vitya’s Life Just Uploaded by MaroonPigeon, Teen, 2.8k (WIP)
Yuuri was wide eyed and chubby faced when he discovered the channel Vitya’s Life on YouTube. Since then, he was set on the same path Victor walked down to try and make something out of a YouTube career. Moving to LA for college when Yuuri was grown pushed the two creators together. A collab spirals into something much more.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Stuck on You by La_Temperanza, Teen, 6.7k
“…What,” Yuuri says and opens one pensive eye to look. From his point of view, it’s upside down, so it takes him a half-second to realize Viktor has affixed a sticker to his shirt. Not just any sticker, but one that has a stylized doodle of Viktor giving a thumbs up with the words ‘Good job on showing up!’ written in an obnoxious bubbly purple font underneath.Yuuri thinks it’s the most patronizing thing he’s seen in his life.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
yuuri!!! on fire (the superhero au) by hinatella, Teen, 53k (WIP)
A detailed exposé of what working with an ex-villain is like, as told by a very distraught Yuuri Katsuki. (P.S.: it isn’t the fact that he’s an ex-villain that Yuuri is close to losing his mind.)

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @teekettle and anonymous:
I’m That Flight You Get On (International) by Anonymous, 8.6k (WIP)
Lowly third secretary of the Acirema Embassy in Glen City, Eglen, Yuuri Katsuki gets stranded along the side of the main road in the small, provincial capital. Lucky for Yuuri, he’s not about to freeze to death thanks to the kindness of a well-dressed stranger, Viktor Nikiforov, who offers him a ride home in a sleek black, government-owned vehicle. If only Yuuri spoke better Eglenian, he would’ve maybe figured out Viktor meant a ride to his home, not Yuuri’s apartment?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @lyubovmoya:
Sugar by Weberina, Mature, 76k (WIP)
Yuuri is desperate to finish his final year in Juilliard, and is offered an unconventional solution to all his problems.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Kiss Kiss Katsudon! by AwkwardPotatoChild ***Underage
Yuuri’s eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open slightly as Victor clasped his hand in his, bringing it up to his face. Did he imagine that or did Victor’s lips actually brush against his knuckles just now? He looked into Victor’s blue eyes and saw the kindness and honesty within them as he kneeled before Yuuri. He unconsciously licked his lips in anticipation when he noticed the corner of Victor’s mouth lift to make a soft smile. Yuuri gasped quietly, suddenly realizing the situation he was currently in. The world seemed to disappear as the two of them continued to stare at each other, only momentarily being brought back to reality at the sound of Yuri complaining about how nothing was happening. 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
these kinda wounds they last and they last by Syster, Teen, 29k
When agents of the different super secret services around the world starts going rogue, Viktor Nikiforov is tasked with finding out what’s going on. Japan, shamed by being the latest to have an agent turn traitor, sends their best, the son of legendary super spy Hiroko Katsuki, to help out.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Something Missing by hookedgirl, Gen, 6k
So in which we have Yuuri without Victor, and Yuuri realises something isn’t quite right. Something’s missing. But what?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Curious Case of Yuuri Katsuki by athylia, Not Rated, 33k (WIP)
There was a man who mounted his Quagsire everyday, swam to Mt. Pyre, and sat there solemnly for hours until it was time to leave. Viktor understood loneliness, maybe not to the amount that the man who was mourning his dead pokemon, but he knew loneliness like an old friend. Being at the top had its disadvantages. The bespectacled man was somewhat similar to him.That is until, he saw the man giving orders to his precious Makkachin and Makkachin actually obeying him. There might be more to Yuuri Katsuki than he thought

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Love in Exile by MartyMuses, Explicit, 84k (WIP)
Once a well know ballet dancer in St. Petersburg, Victor Nikiforov finds himself exiled to Sakhalin Island as a political convict in 1881. As a man sentenced to katorga he will never return to European Russia or his life on the stage. Known as the “Edge of the World,” his life on Sakhalin could not be further from the life he once knew. Strange circumstances lead his path to cross that of a young Japanese man, one of the very few still living on the island. Katsuki Yuuri leads a life of exile of a different kind, one that is largely self-imposed. Drawn to each other, despite their differences, something slowly begins to grow between them. When a narrowly avoided tragedy leaves them stranded together for a long, cold Sakhalin winter, they are challenged to face what their relationship really means, and what future it could possibly have.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
to pierce the heart of a prince by starsofthenightcourt, Get, 8.9k (WIP)
In which Yuuri is an assassin, assigned with the task of killing the crown prince, Victor Nikiforov.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:*    *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
This Insidious Intent by roselatte, Mature, 30k (WIP) ***Graphic depictions of violence 
The elusive prince of the Katsuki empire harbors a deep secret that puts him on several hit lists. Enter soldier-in-training Victor Nikiforov, who kind of just stumbles into the position of Prince Yuuri’s bodyguard.


Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

The amazing “YOI Fan Rec Friday” banner was created by @omgkatsudonplease! I love them a lot, check out their blog!

Cities are smells: Acre is the smell of iodine and spices. Haifa is the smell of pine and wrinkled sheets. Moscow is the smell of vodka on ice. Cairo is the smell of mango and ginger. Beirut is the smell of the sun, sea, smoke, and lemons. Paris is the smell of fresh bread, cheese, and derivations of enchantment. Damascus is the smell of jasmine and dried fruit. Tunis is the smell of night musk and salt. Rabat is the smell of henna, incense, and honey. A city that cannot be known by its smell is unreliable. Exiles have a shared smell: the smell of longing for something else; a smell that remembers another smell. A panting, nostalgic smell that guides you, like a worn tourist map, to the smell of the original place. A smell is a memory and a setting sun. Sunset, here, is beauty rebuking the stranger.

But to love the sunset is not, as they say, one of the attributes of exile.

Memory, your personal museum, takes you into the realms of what is lost. A sesame field, a plot of lettuce, mint, a round sun that falls into the sea. What is lost grows in you and in the sunset, which grants what is distant the attributes of paradise and purges it of any defect. Whatever is lost is worshipped.

—  Mahmoud Darwish, In the Presence of Absence, trans. Sinan Antoon