Lovers - Blog Posts
Happy Valentine's Day to All
May you All find the love you are looking for ❤️
“do we share the same moon?~”
Happy Valentine's Day to all of ya'll
May you All find and be together forever with the love of your life.❤️
XVIII Century !!!!!
In the bubbles !!!!!!!
Bring back soft kisses on hand, forehead and noses. Bring back that yearning for each other. Bring back holding hands. Bring back natural soft love where two persons fall in love with each other's personalities with each other's habits instead of their bodies. Bring back those simple weddings which seemed perfect. Bring back those late night deep conversations. Bring back those sweet compliments which didn't have any intimacy in them but still HIT. Bring that classic literature kind of love. Bring back 'Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new' kind of love
Beautiful Poems I found!
Dew kissed springs glint in your eyes
A gleaming soul is where your beauty lies
The supple feeling of your skin so soft
Is what I find myself feeling oft
A captured heart - entwined with each other
Your love feeling sweet, come and smother
As she floats through the meadow against
I felt my eyes follow her - my body became tensed
Her beauty so ethereal which she offers in wit
Is how her love comes that I must admit
Lying in the grass - hearing her heartbeat
Her love fills my head, feeling complete
Robot vs Woman
Sometimes I feel like a robot. All I do is work, study, run errands, watch TV. I hang out with my girlfriends, that’s fun! But I don’t feel like a woman often. It feels nice to be looked at by men, to be admired, complimented. I like to feel precious, treasured, special, like a woman.
That’s stupid, right? That’s a stereotype. Maybe I fall into it. I love it when a cute guy hesitates to talk to me. I love it when he mutters “Hey” and I feel like I didn’t hear it and he doesn’t try again because he’s too scared to make a fool of himself. I like it when guys smile back when I direct them to check-in. I like it when they tilt their head forward like men back in the day used to do with their hats. I love feeling like a woman.
I love it when a guy I met in high school 4 years ago likes my story for no reason, maybe bcz he remembered that conversation we had a long time ago about movies and life. I love it when guys move out of the way for me to pass, or when they hold the door. I love it when the construction guys catch a glimpse of me through my apartment window, or when I’m walking down the street and they take a look.
How dirty. I’m so dirty. I’m saying things I shouldn’t even be thinking. Anyways, who do I think I am? I have no reason to believe I’m so beautiful, effervescent, irresistible. I love myself a lot, that will never change. But who’s to say society does? Yeah I’ve been complimented once or twice. Maybe once by a man, indirectly (remember that day?). But man, I’ve never been asked out. Never been complimented directly by a man. Never had anyone slide into my dms (except for Bhuvaneshwar haha). But maybe I don’t deserve it. I sit up in my little ivory tower of sacred femininity and robust robotic efficiency. I keep all men at arms length like a good girl, both in the eyes of tradition and professionalism. I don’t go to places where I would be exposed to situations like that. Wouldn’t any man be AFRAID of me? Scrawny male legs shaking and all…
WHO CARES!!!
I like it when I join the Zoom meeting and a guy I admire for his intelligence tells me he likes what I wrote down for my part of the group project, and asks me how my semester is going. I like it whennnn…I just like it a lot.
I’m so dirty. But iiii … just like it. Can’t a girl want to feel like a woman sometimes? Can’t she take pleasure in her innate desires when this cold world marches on ruthlessly everyday? I am both a robot and a woman, one by necessity and one through fantasy. Whatever.
I just published "#1" of my story "Renegades of Fate". https://www.wattpad.com/1346521733?utm_source=android&utm_medium=com.tumblr&utm_content=share_published&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=AmCa-14
I knew it ,it was wrong
I knew it ,it won't last
I knew it, it would hurt
But again I tried so hard
Guys... I'M DATING! I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!
WIP Wednesday Saturday tag
Damn i completaly forgot to post this thing, school is eating me out alive. Anyways, thank you @lancedoncrimsonwings.
Things went by very quickly, months passed and it was already February. It was still damn winter, but everyone always tried to convince him that it wasn't that bad. And in the midst of the cold, the fey obtained resources and a willpower that Lancelot particularly envied and asked so that they could have a Lupercalia festivity. He remembers the three days of lupercalia where they held feasts for healing and fertility and drank with the fauns. It was also when lovers declared themselves to each other in a way he never forgot.
At the birth of Aphrodite or Venus, Goddess of love and beauty, she is created from sea foam and walked through the sand to find the other Olympians, consequently her symbol is a shell. Centuries ago, it was realized that when sand is exposed to a certain temperature, it crystallizes, and as Ashes have fire in their blood, handling this would not be as difficult just as with other metals.
Every Lupercalia celebration, couples or lovers go to the beaches, light a fire and look for the shell that most reminds them of their partner, and then return to their loved one's side. Then they gathered a handful of sand in their hands with the shell in the middle and heated it until the sand melted into a crystal. They made flowers with the crystal, usually the favorites of their loved ones, each one was unique due to the way it was made and the shell inside it, the shells were exchanged and then they spent the night celebrating and loving each other. On the next day, the previous year's flower was buried in the gardens or temples of goddesses related to love or fertility. They were called love-forges.
Many women appeared pregnant after the celebration. And in fact that's how he gained a younger brother.
When Lancelot was a child, he remembered seeing his father and two mothers making these flowers for each other and exchanging them among themselves, and then they decorated the house with them until the following year, where they buried them in the garden of the goddesses.
Now Lancelot is almost thirty years old and has never made a love-forge for anyone. He thought he would never do it until a jerk with green eyes came into his life last autumn.
Now the monk suddenly finds himself waking up at dawn and voluntarily going out in the cold to go to the nearest beach and walk along the sea coast looking for the shell that most reminded him of his best friend. But how could a single shell remind him of someone like Gawain? It wasn't possible. Gawain would never be someone who could be described in a single, small shell.
After a good few minutes of walking along the coast, Lancelot's eyes fall on something small, bright green that almost immediately reminds him of his best friend, and suspiciously to his stupid heart, desired lover.
A small, flat, chubby shell, with a spiral shape as captivating as his green eyes. Its color was a vibrant light green, the base was greener than its center, which was turning white, the marks caused by the spirals looked golden, and it was so beautiful in the moonlight that it made his heart beat faster. How could something so small remind him of such an important person? The shell did not remembered him any other than Gawain. It was only as perfect as him.
Lancelot takes the shell between his hands and returns to the sand, taking a small handful between his hands. His heart was racing too fast to be considered normal, but at least it kept him warm. He places the small shell in the middle, burying it with more sand and blowing fire several times, melting the sand until it forms a malleable crystal. His hands work to create the petals, round and large, leaving the shell in the middle.
He delicately made each petal, each one held something he liked about his friend, or a moment of them together. The smell of his hair, the captivating eyes holding him as he talks, the hands helping him put his clothes back on when his ribs were broken, the way their lips almost touch when they whisper secrets to each other, the stolen clothes and teasing at breakfast. Everything that reminded him of him as each round petal was placed delicately and slowly on a gardenia, a flower that signified secret love. He finishes the flower as in tradition, a kiss on the petals on the shell.
"What is that?" Suddenly Gawain's voice sounds behind him, scaring him and making him look over his shoulder to where the other man is looking at him. Gods, was he so distracted that he didn't hear or feel Gawain nearby?
“Just a flower. It was a tradition of my people and I wanted to do it now that I, well, came back.” He responds, the heart accelerating the closer Gawain comes, until he sits next to him, but much closer than is friendly permitted.
He turns his face away from the flower to look at Gawain, their lips almost touching for a moment and both men take a few seconds to compose themselves and stop looking at each other's lips. “Does it always end with a kiss like that?” Gawain whispered, sliding his eyes to the crystal gardenia in his friend's hand. "Yes." The other responds without turns.
The green-eyed man extends his hand, touching Lancelot's and holding the gardenia with him, and speeding up both their hearts even more. “May I?” He asks, and Lancelot nods, sure that he's talking about the flower, but is surprised when suddenly his best friend's lips are on his. It's just a peck, a press of lips, but it makes the blue-eyed man's brain stop and it takes a few seconds before he responds to the kiss with a press of lips of his own.
Gawain's lips were as soft as he imagined, and Lancelot knows that his marks are glowing with the amount of happiness and passion he feels in that moment. The kiss seems to last forever, even though it was only a few long seconds. They break the kiss, both looking at each other and again the other man is the first to speak. “We should get back to the tent, before you freeze from lack of heat.” The man nods and they both get up with each other's help, but Lancelot is surprised again when Gawain pulls him to his chest and whispers in his ear. “I’ll cuddle you all night so you don’t get cold.” Lancelot feels his marks glowing brighter, his cheeks heat up and he probably looks like a tomato judging by the way his love laughed triumphantly and walked away, while he stood still for a while before following him back to the camp with the flower in his hands.
That man was still going to give him a heart attack.
Here is the inspiration for the shell and what a gardenia looks like:
This was inspired by me and the person i like showing that we like each other through origami of our favorite flowers. My heart skipped a beat when they said that they have each of the lilies I gave them in a different house. And since Lancelot has no idea how to show love I decided to put this on him too.
Happy valentines day, also late.
