#seventeeth

[vcrnons]

VERNON god of music official mv.

[rherlotshadow]

October Country: Seventeenth century graffiti in the porch of the church of St Mary in the valley beneath the Calstone Downs.

[scarqn]

Stranger || Vernon

Vernon x f!reader

Genre:fluff, nonidol!vernon, smau

Summary: you come home from a vacation to a random stranger in your bed, or maybe he isn't so much of a stranger after all...

Warnings: swearing (mostly f! reader lol sos), a lil but of angst & mental health mentions, hella serious anger issues(f! reader), mentions of sexual activity, very much kissing, mentions of food/pics of food:)

A/N: I’m finally on Easter break yay so more uploading🤞🏼🤞🏼 Anyways, how has everyone been lately? Enjoyyyyyy❤️

This is pretty shitty sorry about that guys, I’ll do better next part😔🙏🏼

Tags: @dkswife

[softceleste]

@redrcbin asked: Trick or treat!

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

muriel spoilers, but woman who's a very determined flirt despite her job demanding she be chaste and pious x knight who's doing His Best to keep it together is literally what i wanted out of my genderbend AU. muriel please i need you to have more appearances soon, muriel please please

[mgcoco]

🐜🎸🎤🎶

[hag-o-hags]

love is stored in the willingness to listen to you tell me about boruto in detail for forty-five minutes even though I just told the dogs that if they interrupted my book one more time I would make them into hats

[nyptagypta]

I’m listening to yawn in public this was quite literally the worst decision of my life i wanna cry AND I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THE LYRICS MEAN

OKAY NOW HEADLINER MAKES ME WANNA END MYSELF ITS SO FANDOM ANTHEM CODED.

[tricornonthecob]

holy shit I love this. I love everything about this. This week has not been bueno so far but this has brought a laugh

[lee-sanghyeok]

gotta love an easter egg

[17-todate]

COMEBACK

230920 SEVENTEEN

🩷 SEVENTEEN 11th mini album ‘SEVENTEETH HEAVEN’

October 23 6PM KST

[heroeslogic-moved]

pov im desperately trying to be normal but i have cried a non zero amount of times over kathryn being in the mcu.

it's like really hitting me looking at pics from the quantumania premier and i'm just so fucking proud of her. the parasocial relationship is strong in this one but idk that's my girl that's my fave and i'm going to lose my fucking mind when i see her on the big screen.

[sapphicbookclub]

Valiant Ladies by Melissa Grey

By day Eustaquia “Kiki” de Sonza and Ana Lezama de Urinza are proper young seventeeth century ladies. But when night falls, they trade in their silks and lace for swords and muskets, venturing out into the vibrant, bustling, crime-ridden streets of Potosí, in the Spanish Empire's Viceroyalty of Peru. They pass their time fighting, gambling, and falling desperately in love with one another.

Then, on the night Kiki's engagement to the Viceroy's son is announced, her older brother―heir to her family’s fortune―is murdered. The girls immediately embark on a whirlwind investigation that takes them from the lowliest brothels of Potosí to the highest echelons of the Spanish aristocracy.

Genres: historical, fantasy, romance

Order from Blackwell's here and get free worldwide shipping!

Listen to the book on audiobooks.com here!

[h4untedsp3ctor]

If I don't get this done by today then this will be posted late and I'm sorry 😭 suddenly got the idea to write a cute Miguel drabble

Kiss me, I'm Irish

Miguel O'Hara x gn! reader

-------------------------------

Summary: It's St. Patrick's Day, and you know the classic phrase "Kiss me, I'm Irish!" since it's on like every shirt or mug or whatever you see in stores around that holiday. But since you know Miguel is both Mexican and Irish, you thought it would be the perfect chance to take this phrase quite literal.

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, otherwise none, it's just pure fluff!! Guess the only warning is slight mention of drinking and that this will probably be short? Idk we shall see once this is posted.

Today's the 17th of March, also known as St. Patrick's Day. You kind of feel like most people use this holiday as an excuse to go out and get drunk at bars, pinch people for not wearing green, and see those cheesy "kiss me, I'm Irish" shirts. But then you remembered something. Your boyfriend, Miguel is part Irish. Suddenly you got an idea.

You see Miguel laying on the couch, fiddling around on his phone. While this isn't really a holiday you two exactly celebrate, you still want to go through with this little plan of yours.

"Hey, Miggy." You call to him so he gets your attention. He looks over towards you from where you're standing.

"Yes?" He replies while he takes his earbuds out. You can hear the faint music coming from the earbuds, but not enough to know what he's listening to.

You walk over to Miguel, kneeling down in front of him to where he's laying, and you kiss him on his lips. His soft, plush lips against your own makes you feel like you're in heaven every time you two kiss. And you'll never get tired of it.

Miguel, quite surprised, returns the action. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek, with his thumb rubbing against your skin.

You pull away to look at the man before you, admiring every single detail of his appearance. Even when he's just laying on the couch in a T-shirt and pajama pants.

"Did you just try to get my attention just for a little kiss? Hm?" Miguel asks, chuckling as he continues to brush his thumb across your cheek.

"Just know I'm not done yet." You tease, going in for a kiss on his right cheek. Then another on his left. Then on his forehead, then his nose.

Miguel softly laughs, putting down his phone and pulling you in with his strong, muscular arms to embrace you as you attack him with kisses.

"Ah, cariño! What's with all these kisses?" He sighs, smiling as you give him one last kiss, on his jawline.

"Well, do you know what day it is?" You ask, hoping he knows.

Miguel tries to think, only thing that comes to mind is today's date. "Uhh, March Seventeeth? Sunday?"

You shake your head. "Well duh! But I guess I'll just tell you. It's St. Patrick's Day, and do you know what I get to do today?"

He furrows an eyebrow, tilting his head in curiosity. "As far as I'm concerned, not really. Tell me."

You lean in closer to his face, stroking his hair as you look into his eyes.

"It means I get to kiss someone who's Irish. And you know I got to follow tradition." You chuckle, giving him a peck on the lips.

Miguel playfully rolls his eyes as he smiles again. "Oh, you're so silly. Why don't you come up here and cuddle on the couch with me instead of sitting on the floor, hm?" He suggests.

This was quite the offer you couldn't refuse after all. You get up off the floor as Miguel watches you crawl over to the couch and you lay on top of him. He pulls you in closer with his arms as you lay your head on his chest. Hearing his gentle heartbeat.

"Now isn't this better?" He says softly, almost in a whisper. You nod your head, not saying anything back.

"Good. Now, how about you give me more of those kisses? Since you want to follow tradition and all."

You lift your head up and lean in towards Miguel. "I'd thought you never ask..."

Reblogs and replies are always much appreciated 💗

[khwxbeeda]

At the age of eight, I first learnt jealousy. I learnt it by feeling it, by grabbing it with both hands and tugging it close to my heart; my mother kissed my baby sister's forehead, but not mine. Never mine.

At ten, I learnt betrayal. Someone I though would be a true friend turned her back on me in the blink of an eye, and I spent the days alone, no one to hold hands and laugh with. She walked with the popular crowd, and I walked between the shelves of the library; maybe the books would be better friends.

By the time I turned twelve, I had learnt loneliness. I sat alone at lunch tables in school, I sat alone at the dinner table in my home. My sister was six and a monster for taking away all my parents' love, and my classmates were thirteen or fourteen and monsters for trying to take away my books. It was better to be away than suffer, I decided, and I didn't mind the loneliness much.

Thirteen was the age that taught me sadness. I went to school, studied, came back home, studied, ate, and went to bed. I buried tears and suffocated my crying with my pillows, and woke up with red-rimmed eyes that I ran to hide from my mother, as if she would care enough to ask if she did see them. I cried in the bathroom, my head bent over the sink so I didn't have to look in the mirror and my teeth digging into my bottom lip to stop the sounds from coming out. I learnt to cry silently that year.

Fourteen... was an empty year. There were no more tears left. No more crying. No more sadness or jealousy or anything. I did what I was told to do with a book in one hand and my schoolbag in the other, lips sealed shut and face cast in marble. No one wanted to know what I had to say, I did not want to say anything to anyone. (A few years later, I came across an article describing dissociation.)

Fifteen was anger. So much anger. I was angry at everything and everyone; at the world, at my classmates, at my teachers, my parents, my sister. At myself. An eternal fire burned in the back of my throat and in the pits of my heart and it refused to be extinguished: I wanted to scream, wanted to rage, wanted to throw things and destroy everything in my path. I was so so angry, all the time. I read, somewhere, that fifteen was the worst age to be. I pushed the fireball of anger deeper down, and agreed.

At sixteen, I was good at ignoring my thoughts. I looked at the ledge of the roof and turned away; I refused to step within twenty feet of it. I looked at the shine of the knife blade and put it down; I refused to cut fruit and vegetable. I looked at the rope in the corner of the balcony and stepped back into the house; I would not set the laundry out to dry. I buried myself in my textbooks— Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Mathematics, English, Hindi. I got higher marks than I'd ever gotten. My mother ran a hand over my head and smiled at me in a way she hadn't in the last ten years. I flinched away from her touch.

Seventeen... I was in bed. Surgery was nasty business, and throughout the seventeeth year of my life I went through seven of them. I laid in bed, a bandage over my left eye and tears rolling down my right cheek. I'd studied. I'd studied till I collapsed when I was sixteen, but I didn't get to sit for my 12th boards. All my efforts were in vain. At seventeen, I was in bed, and I languished.

Eighteen. Eighteen was the whirlwind year. I sat for my 12th boards but didn't get the marks I hoped for. I forgot that I'd registered for PCM and PCB CET until I got the emails, and then gave up on studying. The results were 95% for both exams. I changed my trajectory, and was granted admission in Fergusson. I yelled at my parents with tears in my eyes and kissed my sister on her forehead with a smile on my face. I made friends. I smiled, I laughed, I talked more and more with each passing month. Eighteen was a whirlwind. Eighteen was good to me.

Now, I am nineteen. Let's see how this year goes, shall we?

Tag list: @orgasming-caterpillar @musaafir-hun-yaaron @hum-suffer @h0bg0blin-meat @yehsahihai @blushlilyyy @budugu

[cricketycrickey]

hey guys i decided to make an art for miku's birthday yesterday (august 31st)

happy seventeeth birthday miku yippee