pavlovleowrites

[pavlovleowrites]

the curious incident of jean moreau finding out capitalism wasn’t a state in america

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english flower names are so evocative. snapdragon. wolfsbane. even as loanwords they're still pretty; dandelion traces back to old french for "lion's tooth". meanwhile the actual french word for dandelion means piss-the-bed

[pavlovleowrites]

my love mine all mine

[pavlovleowrites]

Evan is currently trying to make soup out of his brain.

Breakin’ Barty’s heart, looking so good doing it, too.

“A movie—like, ya know. A screen—they have, _fuck_. Mmmph—_popcorn_ and such.”

“Right.”

“And like, icees. You like icees?”

“Blue ones, yeah,” Evan says offhandedly, turning to grab more ink. “You?”

“Well, yeah. Blue ones are the best,” Barty says. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Mhm,” Evan hums. “Sure, whatever you say.”

And Barty gets a moment to let his neck ease, and he’s curled into a ball on the little table, and Evan is looking down at him, really _staring_ at him, and the stem, _oh_, it’s so fucking close to his eye. It feels like Evan is tattooing his eye, just _digging_ around, and it’s not fun.

No, not really.

Fun isn’t the word Barty would use to describe his current predicament.

- by @greenvlvetcouch

A drawing to @greenvlvetcouch 's new rosekiller au fic!! The first chapter dropped today and rEAD IT! Absolutely going insane.

[pavlovleowrites]

geto suguru ☆ 夏油傑

happy birthday Elena! @ashiromina

[pavlovleowrites]

Hahaha my boss just asked me IN FRONT OF ALL MY COWORKERS if I was stressed because he noticed I was constantly shakinng slightly.

And listen the fact is Im not stressed at work but Im traumatized from harassment from my previous workplace and I’ve let the HR and him know about it when they interviewed me. I told them I had been harassed. And tbh, i have my fair share off mental health issues, BUT IM DOING GOOD AT WORK OKAY ? And the shaking is just something I cant help. But even if I good you shouldn’t point it out right ?

Like I shouldn’t have to justify myself, he shouldn’t have said anything, right?

And now im shaking even more because when people points it out it gets worse.

Love that for me

[pavlovleowrites]

when sally rooney wrote “and it was easier and safer to stay in a bad situation than to take responsibility for getting out. Maybe, maybe. I don’t know. I tell myself that I want to live a happy life, and that the circumstances for happiness just haven’t arisen. But what if that’s not true? What if I’m the one who can’t let myself be happy? Because I’m scared, or I prefer to wallow in self-pity, or I don’t believe I deserve good things, or some other reason. Whenever something good happens to me I always find myself thinking: I wonder how long it will be until this turns out badly. And I almost want the worst to happen sooner, sooner rather than later, and if possible straight away, so at least I don’t have to feel anxious about it anymore.” in beautiful world where are you, i felt that

[pavlovleowrites]

“that character is problematic” i am sick and twisted. next

[pavlovleowrites]

of hotel rooms and boy sin bands (10 minute version): jegulus | muggle au | band | wordcount: 30,165

James pulled back, breathing deeply, catching his breath. Pushing a stray piece of hair out of Regulus’s face, James said, “come to London with me.” “What?” “After Paris,” James explained. “Come to London with me.” Suddenly the heat of the moment waned, and it turned into something delicate. James’s lips were parted, and his eyes were big and bright. Everything seemed to slow down. It felt like Regulus’s entire life hinged on his answer to this very question. *** This is the extended version of a one shot I wrote.

[pavlovleowrites]

They are so sweet, I love them so much 🖤🖤🖤

funny how true colors shine in darkness and in secrecy - Hozier, Unknown/Nnth

a Prongsfoot drabble for @pavlovleowrites who requested a rare pair kissin'

Sirius sat up, blinking through the darkness as the curtains by his bedside rustled. 

“Sorry,” came James’s voice. Sirius couldn’t make him out, eyes not yet adjusted to the dark of the room, but he would know the sound of James’s voice anywhere. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Come in, then,” Sirius said, throat scratchy. He held up the comforter, sighing contentedly when James’s weight settled in next to him. Comfortable in ways he never needed to examine. 

James pressed in close so they were shoulder against shoulder. Arm against arm. Sirius was nearly drifting off again when James huffed out a breath. Brought his hands up to cover his face. 

“You ok, mate?” Sirius asked. James murmured in assent, then turned to look at Sirius. Their faces were inches away from each other on the pillow. 

“Do you ever think,” James started, voice barely louder than a whisper, “that things that happen in the middle of night can just stay there, if you want them to?” 

“Like they don’t really count in the morning?” Sirius asked. 

“Unless you want them to,” James repeated. There was a strange expression on his face. 

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered. “I think that’s right.” 

James’s hair was falling into his eyes. Sirius reached out to push it up off his forehead. He kept his hand there, scrunched it up so the curls wound around his fingers. He loved to play with James’s hair, he always had. A part of James that everyone saw, but that only Sirius reached out to touch.

It was only hair, he knew that. But to Sirius, it felt like something special. 

James sighed softly. They lie that for a moment, quiet except for the gentle rain outside the dorm room windows.

“Can I try something?” James murmured. 

Sirius nodded, and then James was moving forward, pressing his lips against Sirius’s. The kiss was soft, a gentle brush of lips. James pulled away, only slightly, and Sirius let him for a second before he leaned in again. 

This kiss was thorough, deeper than the first, and Sirius felt it down to his toes. His mouth opened under James’s and he groaned softly when he felt James’s tongue swipe against his lower lip. Sirius’s hand, still tangled in James’s hair, slid down to cup the back of the other boy’s head. Keeping him there. Keeping him close.  

It was easy, so easy, to stay close to James. 

They broke away gently, and James shifted so that he was flush against Sirius, their foreheads falling together. James breathed out as Sirius breathed in. Sharing breath like they shared everything else. 

James’s lips found Sirius’s again and he kissed him, short and sweet. 

“Do we have to forget this in the morning?” James asked. A whisper. 

“James,” Sirius said, a smile breaking across his face. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

[pavlovleowrites]

silence lay steadily.

things haunt, joshua jennifer espinoza // giovanni's room, james baldwin // through me (the flood), hozier // flowers in the attic, v.c. andrews // i am in eskew, jon ware // anatomy, kitty horrorshow // the haunting of hill house, shirley jackson

[pavlovleowrites]

titane (2021) dir. julia ducournau // pasiphaë (1943), jackson pollock // pasiphae (1937), andré masson

[pavlovleowrites]

The Sound of Silence (2019) - Yayu 雅宇

https://www.artofyayu.com/ 

[pavlovleowrites]

You may start out cishet but if you’re on tumblr long enough it’s like opening your third eye gender isn’t real all is full of love and monsterfucking is ok in here you’re simply eatprayloving yourself to your queer identity ideal society really

[pavlovleowrites]

I did a small thing

[pavlovleowrites]

So I just reworked this entire thing and actually posted it on ao3 because I couldnt let go of this specific idea

From @jegulus-microfic prompt August 28th, Injury (963 words; nsfw, explicit sexual content, violence, mention of blood, mcd)

The champions awoke under the stars, aware that they had only one more hour concealed by the precious night sky. They touched each other uncertainly, their skins marked with scars and bruises from the last three days of fighting. Under the pressure of a thumb, the cut on Regulus' thigh reopened, and blood coated James' hand as his mouth swallowed the other man. Pain and pleasure, neither existing without the other.

The exquisite sound that escaped Regulus’ throat was vocal proof they were still alive. James held him in his arms, using the blood on his fingers to caress around the other man’s entrance, feeling the rim tighten against the breach of his index.

Regulus moaned, and James put his hand in his mouth, expecting him to taste himself, but instead, Regulus bit down on his thumb, sharp canines tearing the skin. "I need you, all of you," he whispered, a confession that stoked the fire burning inside James’ chest.

What could he do but comply as he pumped himself a couple of times, their bodies now marred with the dark stains.

Under the stars they were alives and only belonged to each other, marking each other desperately, hoping the stains would work as protection against the duties that awaited them.

As James got deeper and deeper into Regulus body, he couldn’t help but feel a shiver of apprehension run down his spine. He hoped to bury himself deep enough to ignore it.

Soon they breath synched and the sounds of skin against skin got louder as they grabbed and held each other so tightly they left bruises in the shape of their affections.

Soon after they came, blood, sweat and cum mixing between them, Regulus had to leave. With one last kiss and one last look, he left James' tent and crossed the battlefield to his own garnison.

—

Hours later, Regulus realized he had been too confident in expecting James to simply ignore him and run the other way when they encountered each other on the battlefield. But being a god’s champion was their calling, and neither of them could escape the impending fight.

When the battle had begun, the sun had barely peeked through the horizon, the sky covered in hues of pink, orange, and blue. As the day progressed, their soldiers cut and killed through armor and flesh, the clashing of weapons and the smell of copper heavy in the air, the ally had turned as red as the earth.

It was not their war, but they had been chosen nonetheless, their destiny tied to the rising sun and to the whims of beings that played chess with their lives. They had been given golden shields and blessed swords, carved with the story of their patrons wrath. It was a tale as old as time, gods loved and fought and killed, nothing but blood could satiate their need. A Lion that defended its people, a Serpent that always wanted more. A battle of power, neither one of them proving they were stronger than the other.

As the battle cry had been replaced by painful moans and women’s wailing, Regulus and James came face to face. Regulus' brow had been hit, half his face maculated with blood, vision red, he could taste it in his mouth, not all of it his own. James, the ever strong and tall James, protector of the defenseless, righter of wrongs, his armor still shining through the mud and bits of flesh covering it.

He had lost his helmet, brown curls clinging to his sweaty face. He didn’t look any less like the Hero of the Songs.

Regulus knew the fate of the Villain in those, so he threw his shield on the ground, among the clutter of dead bodies and maimed soldiers, lifting his own sword high. The sun was still too high, but he had made his choice. For James, his hero, it was an easy one.

James didn’t run, he didn’t scream, but his eyes held a deep sorrow as their weapons clashed, the sound loud on the battlefield, resonating high against the mountains witnessing them.

Around them everything seemed to come to a halt, the humans and gods alike holding their breath as the lovers met in their last embrace.

Regulus quickly dodged blows, but James' strength was no match as he overpowered the younger man. Regulus gave his all, owing it to James, but as the sun finally set, and the golden man's sword cut through his stomach, he wished he could have given more.

He had failed his god, and James would be celebrated as the Hero that vanquished the Great Serpent.

Only a handful would remember the way the man had turned into a boy again, his knees falling to the ground as he held the body of his opponent, hands covered in his blood whispering in his ear that it was over, you can go my love, I free you, you can go but please, please don’t leave me.

James would kiss Regulus, again and again, his tears moving even the oldest stone around them. No god could hear them with stars shining above them now, but the Earth had its own magic, and for it could not bring the dead back from such a fatal injury, it could still give the young general a place of rest.

And where guts and tears, and declarations of love had been spilled, a tree like no other would grow.

—

Years later, a house would be built around this tree, and the most magnificent fruits would grow from it, but only ever an old hermit, rumored to be a long lost hero of olds, would get to enjoy their sweet but bitter taste, forever a last kiss left on the mouth.

[pavlovleowrites]

Barty: What are you in the mood for?  Evan: World domination.  Barty: That's a bit ambitious. Evan: You are my world.  Barty: Aww...  Evan: Barty: Evan: Barty: OH.