something about the wave of Alfred Molina thirst makes me think of that "Everyone is Beautiful and No One is Horny" essay. shan't elaborate right now but give me a moment.
“But you didn’t want that,” you find yourself saying, knowing.
Javi whips around, wide eyed, his lips parted in an expression of gentle shock. “No,” he breathes, astonished. It’s like he’s surprised that you know it and relieved that he doesn’t have to say it, and in that moment, you bleed for him. For the little boy who was — gentle, discerning, and far more sensitive than anybody ever bothered to realize; and equally, for the young man who that boy grew into — alive and thriving, but alone, alone and desperate for somebody (somebody, please, anybody; know me, see me) to understand. “I didn’t.”
The Strömkarlen, a water spirit and an exceptionally talented fiddler: the sounds of forest, wind and water play over his fiddle strings. It is said to be willing to teach his skills in exchange for a minor sacrifice.
heres my halloween treat for @little-murmaider !! a folklore/urban legend/ scary story with skwisgaar reimagined as the monster
happy halloween, i hope you like it ❤️
@mtl-trick-or-treat
deleting my dating apps so I can meet someone the old fashioned way: getting kidnapped by their old pirate crew while they team up with my mayonnaise white bread childhood friend to rescue me and steal back their ship and getting marooned on a desert island for a few sexual tension filled days and then fighting alongisde them to keep them from a hanging only to somehow still choose the mayo friend