#and he plays an unstoppable force: an overthinker

[bionicle-ramblings]

I'm thinking in terms of an actor au, and this is sending me:

When they're not filming, Vakama is just the most formal, most "posh" person in the cast. He's confident, sure, studies his scripts, maybe even studies who he's supposed to be once the cameras start rolling and is easy to tell when he's "on" and when he's "off" because he's compartmentalized it

He still slips up, forgets lines, and misses cues, but overall, he's interesting to work with because he can "get into" playing his character the same way someone puts a coat on and takes it off just as easily

Imagine in interviews, he's the one that sits straight with one leg folded over the other and everyone around him is just poking fun at him because he's literally always sitting and standing like he's meeting with royalty

He does have his more chaotic moments with the other cast and crew mates, but overall, he's essentially the Ignis Scientia of the cast

#bionicle #ramblings #actor au #vakama #actor!vakama is a formal guy #and he plays an unstoppable force: an overthinker

[muniimyg]

13 | photobooth

series m.list

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that you and Jimin aren’t too fond of each other.

From the moment you stepped into the student council meeting and raised your hand to argue with Jimin, everyone knew what a wild ride it would be to work with you two. The banter often pushed each other to the edge but for the most part; you two couldn’t be bothered with each other's existence. The concept of being each other's “enemies,” is a little misleading… But it’s not entirely wrong. 

You two detest one another. 

It’s competitive between you two. From grades to social accounts—there was and never is a good reason to like Jimin. He’s just someone you have to brush away and avoid in order to keep winning. 

Yet, times like these.. Times when you two are forced to work with one another; you’re quick to realize that you only hate him because he’s the only one that truly understands you. 

Beneath all the arguments, disagreements, and disgust—you and Jimin are reflections of one another. Perhaps that’s why there’s so much tension. 

Perhaps that’s why this carnival is such a success. Of course, it is—it’s quite literally made by you and Jimin and that speaks for itself. No one has doubts when it comes to you two. Together, you two are unstoppable and the bickering that came with both of your driven work ethics was just for the audience. 

It’s not like you two made it an issue for others to work with you. You two just found it difficult to be around one another. Too picky. Too much of a headache.

Today, the campus is filled with random groups of alumni, and Uni sponsors, all the sports and academic teams are in theme… And well, it’s perfect. From the local food vendors, you two managed to book, to the childish activities that everyone has been lining up for, to selected performances; yours and Jimin’s success illuminates the evening. 

The sky is a pretty raspberry lemonade.

The sun is setting and somehow the event continues to double in activity. Everyone is buzzing, the music is blasting and you’re starting to feel exhausted from receiving praise from the school board and the other students. It has been a long day and all you want to do is go back to your dorm and sleep. It’s over! The planning is finally over and the event is going better than expected. You might as well slip away, right? You already organized the volunteer team to clean up and the council treasurer is—

“Stop making that face.” 

You blink, recognize the irritating man in front of you. “What face? What’s this?”

Jimin lifts your arms and puts a metal bracelet on it. It’s pretty. It’s simple and a little dainty... It’s so him. 

“You’re cuffed,” he laughs. “I bought it at a booth. Thought of you and well.. Yeah. Anyways, do you seriously not know?”

Still looking at the bracelet, you ask, “know what?”

“Your overthinking face. Tonight is a success, yams. Just like everything we do. This, in my book, would be 100%. An A+. This event is your 0.6% if you really want…” 

“And you? What do you want?” you snark. 

Jimin shrugs, walking over to your side instead of in front of you. He stands tall and you gulp. Your head begins to spin when you feel him brush his fingertips with yours. You turn your head, checking to see if anyone was watching. 

“You,” he hums. “I want you. Right now. Photobooth?”

“Wh-what?” you stutter, completely shocked by his suggestion. Sure, he’s had impulsive moments with you before but it was never this crowded. 

“Unlike you, I didn’t stutter.” 

“Jimin—”

He rolls his eyes at you as he wraps his hands around your wrist. Then, as you open your mouth to protest, he picks up his feet and starts to head toward the direction of the vintage photobooth.

“Stop,” you stomp your feet. “People will see! Are you crazy?”

“You’re the crazy one! Yams, you’re really wearing a fucking skirt and expecting me not to go feral? Honestly? You play too much. You know how much I’m crazy for that pussy—”

“And isn’t it busy right now? There are so many people here—”

Jimin hushes you and you glare at him. Before you can fight him any further, he shakes you gently and bends down to your eye level. 

“I like your skirt.”

“Jimin—”

“I put an “out of order,” sign up. Plus, I started a rumour saying we have fireworks near the concert stage so everyone is headed that way. We’re at the opposite end, okay? So relax, yams! I’m not stupid—”

You look at him with a soft gaze, “only a little.”

“Fuck you.”

You give in, “okay.” 

Jimin purses his lips, unable to believe how easily you let him in these days.

“Don’t do that,” he warns you.

“Do what?”

“Make it easy.” Jimin groans, “if you make it easy… So help me god.”

“Why?”

He bites the inside of his cheeks, trying his best to contain himself from the thoughts that are flooding his mind. “Oh, yams… The things I’d do to you…” 

“Like what?” you ask a little shy. 

“What wouldn’t I do?”

You gasp. 

Jimin’s lips have gone up and down your neck, trailing his saliva and soon-to-be love marks. You’re sitting on his lap, facing forward. His hands are roaming in and out of your skirt. He tugs on the fabric, lets his palms dance on top, and sneakily slides his fingers in between your panties whenever he likes. There’s no rhyme or reason to this—why you’re about to start fucking in a vintage photobooth where other students are surrounding you two. 

Except for the fact that it’s thrilling. 

It’s goosebumps-worthy in the lewdest way possible. It’s panting, legs spazzing, and touchy. 

So fucking touchy. 

It feels like Jimin is everywhere. He has already pushed your shirt down to your stomach, exposing your lace bra. His hands are cupping your breasts for one second, then his fingers are in your mouth, commanding to be sucked.

You do so. 

See? You do listen well. 

Jimin pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wraps them in your hair. He tugs your hair, causing you to tilt your chin and look up at him. “Open,” he mutters. 

You just do it. 

You open your mouth and watch him run his tongue to accumulate his saliva. 

Then, he spits into your mouth. 

You swallow. 

He smirks before crashing his lips onto yours, hungrily kissing you until you pull away for air. As you catch your breath, he moves the strands of your hair away from your face. He fixes the lip gloss or the spit that’s around your mouth with his thumb. Then, he sneaks in another kiss. One last kiss before he—

“Bend over.”

“W-what?”

He places his hands on your hips and lifts you. You bend back and he sharply inhales from the view. Your ass in this skirt in front of his face. He flips the fabric that covers your beauty and then brings his hands to them. He squeezes them, loving the way they feel. He eyes your panty that is now soaked. Like the tease he is, he slips his finger in between the fabric and your breath hitches the moment you feel his finger rub your folds. 

“Y-you do this a lot,” you pant.. Not that you hate it.

“It gets both of us off,” he moans, tugging your panties. He stops rubbing you and focuses on that instead. He slides them down and once they’re at your feet, he looks up at you innocently. “Take them off properly.”

You lift your feet and push your panties aside with your foot. It’s a little ironic how your freshly bought white sneakers look so innocent beside your wet panty. 

“Are we seriously going to fuck in here?”

Jimin pauses. “Wow, your panties are off. Your pussy is this fucking wet. My dick is about to fall off from all of this… And you’re still this uptight?”

“I’m only uptight because I have to be up your ass—”

“I love your ass,” he interrupts by pinching them. You shoot him a glare and pout. 

“You’re an ass.”

He laughs this time and you take a deep breath. Suddenly, it smells like sex, something that you’ve grown familiar identifying. In all honesty, this entire foreplay feels familiar. 

Though it’s been months since you two first slept together, the other times just never felt like this one. The first time was good. You would even say great! There was a lot of awkward pausing, shifting of positions, and hesitance… But it was good. 

It burned so good. It felt good. He fucked you good. 

He often felt unsure. During the first couple of times, he was still getting to know your body and didn’t want to mess up the mood. He didn’t want to lose you mid-sex. Now that it’s been a few months and you two have been sleeping with each other more often than not—it’s like your body is his. He’s so in love with it. He doesn’t get tired, instead, he craves more of it. 

Jimin has always been good at things. At video games, at public speaking, at dancing… Of course, he’d be good at taking your virginity. He loves the way you react to everything he does. He runs on praise and you know that better than anyone else. 

“... Thank you.” 

He chuckles, finding this to be a little awkward. “What for?”

“For this,” you hint. “... You always know when I begin to feel overwhelmed or overstimulated. Even if you disguise it as an excuse to sleep with me, I know you’re just trying to look out for me. It’s strange, but I don’t think your intentions of fucking me are as pure as I thought they were.”

“What do you mean?” he pauses for the second time tonight. You shift from your bending position and settle to just sit on his lap. Jimin gulps at the thought of your bare pussy pooling on his jeans. 

You let yourself sink onto him. He wraps his arms around your body and you look up at him, cupping his cheeks—his beloved cheeks.

“Fuck me properly at my place. Let’s ditch this scene,” you suggest. “Then maybe we should talk.”

“About what?” Jimin struggles to understand. “Are you uncomfortable? Sorry, I thought we were both in the mood and you were getting into it too so—”

“I think this should be more intimate,” you admit. “I think we’re fucking around too much in public. The hand thing earlier? Dragging me here? It.. It made me feel funny.”

“Funny weird?” 

“Funny like.. Like there’s feelings wrapped around it.” Your confession catches Jimin off guard. “Look, it wasn’t just this. It’s stuff like how our study dates have been turning into sleepovers and our texts have been more domestic than just booty calls.”

“I can’t ask about your day?” Jimin asks, feeling a little small. 

“You can,” you reassure him. “I’m just not sure why you would..”

“Because I want to.”

“That’s not a good enough reason—”

“Are you trying to make me admit something, yams? I have nothing to admit… Maybe you have something to admit—”

“Me? Feelings for you? Never!” you cry, feeling a little caught. 

His eyes widen. “Feelings? Just because I’m nice to you suddenly means I have feelings for you?”

You pause.

Right. 

He’s nice to everyone.

He’s the campus crush. 

He’s—

“... What if I do?” Jimin reveals. “So what if I want to know about your day? Or that our study dates turn into sleepovers.. Or that I want to hold your hand, the doors we pass, or your books for you? Let’s not forget that you’re the one that looks at me. You started it. Yeah, don’t think I’m blind, yams. I see you. Of course, I do! You stare at me and put your hand on top of table corners when I drop shit like my pencil so I don’t bump my head. What if it’s you that—”

Jimin gets caught off and your building defensiveness is traded for embarrassment. Instantly, Jimin registers what’s happening. The moment the curtains are opened, he pushes his body to cover yours. Hastily, you put your shirt back on properly. 

Jimin’s alumni friends, Yoongi, Nam Joon, Hoseok, and Jin stand and stare in shock. You haven’t met them aside from Yoongi. However, with the stories and pictures Jimin shares; you do know them. 

“Shit, sorry!” Nam Joon yelps, as he turned covers his eyes. Hoseok does the same. Jin scoffs and turns the other way. Yoongi stands there, smirking at Jimin. Out of nowhere, sounds of laughter come from a deep voice. Suddenly, two familiar faces poke their heads in and burst into laughter. 

Taehyung and Jungkook are both in your Anatomy class and you.. You totally forgot they’re friends with Jimin and this alumni group. 

“What the fuck! How’d you know we were in here?” Jimin hisses. 

Jungkook snorts. “Your phone location, idiot. We followed the sound of two people arguing and guess we found two people doing more than arguing.”

“Go! Get the fuck away—”

“Well, well, well.. Our president and… Vice? ___? Shit! No way… Is that you? Oh my god, I thought you two hated each other—”

No. 

You can’t do this.

You get up and push away from Jimin. Without looking back or even looking forward, you keep your head low and storm out of the photobooth. You make your way through the crowd and though no one is looking at you; you feel like they are.

#bts social media au #bts fic #bts fake texts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x yn

[snarkylinda]

Heyyyyy, I love reading about your thoughts on Spencer! Never stop, pls. Just got into the fandom and its amazing to see other people delving into a character that you love. He's such an interesting person, although one with a huge amount of trauma. I'd love to hear more about your insights~

oh my 🥺🥺🥺

Spencer is such an important blorbo to me and it's quite an unique experience too- because even tho I had been in fandoms since I was 24 it's the first time I actually get to understand what the character is saying without hundreds of translators and interpretations to get a firm grasp of HOW he speaks, and what tone and what is talking about and how it compares to his peers (English is not my first language, but I understand it way better than Japanese, obviously lmao) so like I can watch an episode, overthink it, and spit whatever interpretation I got from it directly without fear of it being an mistranslation :D also the first time that it's played by an actual human being instead of a drawing so sometimes I feel weird and intrusive as well :D

Okno, now seriously tho- Spencer is legit so fun to analyze and how he plays with his archetype. I read in TV Tropes once that there is this character trope called The Spock, it refers to the one character in a squad that tackles every situation with calm and logic, to an almost emotionless degree, often balanced out by another character that leaps onto action without a second thought and it's moved solely by emotion. However, wanting t apply logic and having nerves of steel in the face of impossible situations (and this is debatable tbh lmao) is as far as that trope goes because Spence is a softie, an emotional clusterfuck, an unstoppable force and a pushover all in one single 185cm of parental issues, puppy eyes and too much sugar.

He is smart and often says the....not quite sensible thing by accident, and uses big words, and reads a lot, and has a photo of Nikolas Tesla with him for some reason- but he is also sarcastic, wildly energetic, petty, a sweetheart, a sassy bitch, a complete loser, the only person that knows what best and isn't afraid to say it- etc, etc, etc. He doesn't believe that the needs of the many outweigh the few but actually latches up to a reduced certain amount of people that he considers giving what is most important to him -his career- up. Even if it hasn't been that long since he knows them.

I just....adores this little petulant ray of sunshine and won't shut up about him anytime soon so I am glad you like my rants ❤️

#spencer reid

[unpretty]

Could you do the director's cut of the scene where Karzarul, Lynette, and Vaelon get their blessings?

i guess a director's commentary would usually run alongside the text but i've decided i'm not doing that actually

i had my youtube music supermix playing while i wrote and when the void goddess showed up WAP started playing and that really did something to the vibe there. like. can you imagine if that were canon. if vaelon were swallowed by the void, gazed into the abyss, and suddenly WHORES IN THIS HOUSE, THERE'S SOME WHORES IN THIS HOUSE. i mean i definitely imagine it now, i cannot unhear it. the void goddess sounds like cardi b i guess.

originally i was gonna use zalgo text for the goddesses but that's a pain to read and i don't know what that would do to a screenreader. i don't THINK you can program in special effects for a screenreader to have a similar effect to changing fonts, i guess it might be weird if you could.

lynette is the only one who puts literally ANY thought into anything, which makes sense because this was her quest to begin with. but also she overthinks the shit out of it assuming it's some kind of trap and her goddess can't wait to punish her for her hubris like an angry leprechaun. for some reason she thinks the best way to save herself from a monkey's paw situation is to really commit to the ends justifying the means. like what she MEANS is, 'i wanna be able to make the hard choices that a leader has to make' thinking that's the part she needs help with but somehow it does not occur to her that, like. 'i wanna make myself commit warcrimes if i gotta' is not, an ideal plan, as these things go.

the ravages of time turning what should have been The Sunlight Guardian into The Sunlight Heir is also something she maybe could have made literally any effort to prevent but that would have meant admitting to how she perceives herself and she'll submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known for DIVINITY ONLY and only because she assumes they already know. why admit that you asked the sun goddess to help you protect everyone like a shounen protag when you could just say 'i asked the sun goddess and she said it's my turn to have the throne'.

but also it makes it extra funny that The Boyz both roll up to the divine like 'hey mama, i wanna be bffs but for real :)'. karzarul is awkwardly asking his biomom if he can have a brother while vaelon confronts his own cosmic insignificance and wants to know if he can get matching t-shirts. he wants to flirt his way into a discount in the gift shop at the end of the universe so he can get friendship bracelets.

anyway, chapter nine had

"Magic is void," Ari said. "Potential. It becomes what's made of it, what's put into it."

so whether the void goddess is always Like That or vaelon has his charisma so fucking off-the-charts maxed he's made himself an unstoppable force even goddesses aren't immune to is unclear

#original #ask meme #writeblogging #astielle spoilers #astielleblogging #astielle meta

[maxwell-grant]

Ok, but how would the Shadow get along with Superman?

I'm gonna try something a little different with this ask, because I couldn't really find the right words to answer it the way I usually do. So instead I took the more complicated route and ended up writing a fanfic of sorts, about potential interactions between these two I could think of.

I don't think I'll make a habit out of answering replies through fanfic but, I don't know, something about this question kinda demanded from me a different type of answer. I never wrote Superman before but I do need to get back to writing.

So here you go, the Shadow - Superman fanfic I wrote to answer this. Hope you enjoy.

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

They were not friends. They were not enemies. They had their separate worlds to watch over, and rarely did they cross each other. Rarely did they meet under desirable circumstances. 

 The Shadow, as Superman knew him, was not a part of Superman's world. In more ways than one.

Clark knew that he was a man who was mainly active during the 1930s and 40s, that he had been a crimefighter active in the United States during that time, that he has some connection to Bruce and other heroes he knew, and that he has an associate related to Lois named Margo, but somehow, Clark could never find him on his own accord.

Even when he time traveled to said period, he could never find him. Lois and Margo share a bloodline, but Lois does not recall what exactly of what sort, not even under Clark's machines. When he asked some of The Shadow's associates, they could not recall him, and Clark knew for a fact they could not have been lying. Some of them existed in this world but with "ordinary" lives, and others didn't.

Although he seemed to come from an alternate world,there were times when The Shadow appeared to have history in this world as well. Real, tangible history, that seems to be willed out of thin air and to dissappear when Clark goes looking for it. Even Bruce seems to not remember him, and Bruce's the one who seemed to have spent the most time in his presence.

He couldn't quite say he looked fondly on his meetings with The Shadow, if he could be honest with himself. He was cold, remote, harsh and manipulative. He murdered criminals without remorse, something that even he admitted had soured his relationship with Bruce, and terrorized those he fought to a much greater extent than even Batman, who Clark already thought was going too far at times.

Clark knew he was not an evil man, he was certain of the compassion within him that thundered to protect the innocent, but Clark could hardly be certain of how much he knew about him in the first place. Clark, who could see through crowds and make a shopping list out of what each person had eaten for breakfest that morning, could not identify The Shadow's face through his mask, could not see what was behind his eyes.

Clark is extremely aware of the standards he must adhere to in order to operate as Superman, the ways in which he must be held accountable as someone operating above and within society. He understands the importance of his friends and allies that can stop and defeat him, the family he must look after, the reputation he must uphold, the control over his powers and a lifetime of experience in holding himself back. At times he was even grateful for the existence of Kryptonite as a desperate measure. He knows that Bruce goes through a lot of measures to keep himself in check as well.

But he knows little about The Shadow, who works for him, why they do so, who can hold him accountable, who is going to help him when he can't help himself. He worries about what his world must look like, to create a man like him, brainwashing people and gunning down criminals in the streets while laughing. How much good can such a man do if this is what his approach to justice looks like? What is the toil that such a grim approach to life has taken on this man's life?

He knows that overthinking is one of his worse flaws, but Superman can't help but dwell sometimes on the worlds he cannot save, on those that must take on such realities. He only wishes he knew how to find The Shadow of his own accord and try to bring peace to the man, even if he knows better than to assume peace is what he's looking for.

It is the nature of Superman to never stop trying to bring everyone to a world beyond death, darkness and sorrow, and to blame himself for those he cannot save even from themselves.

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

It was a well-known fact that The Shadow always worked alone. And like most known facts about him, it was not entirely accurate.

The Shadow strives to cultivate the image that he's alone, untouchable, that all who work for him do so because he forces them to. That he always tells those he saves that their lives belong to him, that they are trembling slaves to a monster sniffing blood in gutters.

Distractions, lies, smokescreens he must create, to allow his agents to operate as spies, and spare them from the wrath of the police and the criminal underworld alike, too busy hunting a legend to notice the flesh and blood people working under their noses, people they would otherwise be all too happy to neglect or stomp on.

Misdirection, the secret of any magic trick. The true secret of The Shadow's invisibility.

There are days where the only positive thought in his mind is that his agents cannot join him wherever he goes.

The success of The Shadow depended heavily on the vast networks of agents and allies he'd gathered over the years, people from all walks of life who trusted him and had chosen to join him. Every courageous move, sacrifice and pivotal role they played was carefully recorded in his files, and never forgotten. They had skills and capabilities The Shadow did not, and The Shadow was proud to see the ways in which they would cultivate those into the betterment of the world around him.

And though the bridge between them was unassailable, though his ways and actions were secret and mysterious to them and they could never know more than he allowed, they received constant signs of The Shadow’s appreciation of their reliable cooperation, and at many points The Shadow had made said bridge less unassailable for their sake.

But they were not his friends. His allies were distant and occupied with fights The Shadow could assist, but not fight for them. His agents were subordinates rather than equals, expected to play the necessary parts and leave the scene for their own safety just as quickly. His friends were few, and often dead. And when it was the moment of danger, The Shadow fought alone. The protection of others came above all else, and on field, although they were expected to think and strategize for themselves and work together, The Shadow's word was final.

There could be no distractions, no hesitations. Those had cost him more than enough on the battlefields of the Great War, mistakes he would never repeat again. The sacrifice of companionship, his own personhood and self-preservation is an acceptable loss for the sake of those he must protect.

There are occasions when The Shadow is forced into circumstances beyond what logic and physics should allow, and in some of those occasions, Superman had been involved in them. There are occasions also where he has to work side by side with other vigilantes, and sometimes, they also include Superman.

He couldn't quite say he looked forward to working with Superman. His arrival almost inevitably carried chaos into the inner workings of reality. The existence of an omnipotent being able to crack planets with a footstep and liquefy crowds with a gaze, held back only by his human personality, was a danger that thankfully did not exist in The Shadow's own world, but was a worrying prospect regardless.

Few of his experiences with aliens and superpowered warriors could be said to be positive ones, and a lifetime of knowing the evil in the hearts of men had taught The Shadow how easily even the best of intentions and the most solid of morals could be corroded and destroyed. It didn't help matters that this being was also a public crusader and celebrity passing judgement on criminals, even while secretly holding a private dimensional prison to throw them into should they be sufficiently dangerous. Someone completely unstoppable and unaccountable, even to death itself.

The Shadow understood Superman to be a good man, a moral man who had been raised well to be the best he could. The Shadow respected and treasured the existence of those like him, men and women and everything in between that could breathe in the sun and uphold mankind, while he dwelled in the underworld to make sure those more like him would not rise to attack them.

But whatever the rewards of these partnerships, he was glad when they were over. His work requires full control. He cannot tolerate the loss of it.

Others can dream of better tomorrows and work to make them happen, his is the task of clearing the darkest paths so others need not tread them.

Hope, light and comfort are noble gifts, but they are not his to give.

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

The first time they met had been the result of Vandal Savage's Hypertime Collider, a trap designed to keep Superman running circles through the timestreams, cycling through alternate versions of himself. He had landed in the 1930s, somewhat depowered, in a world where some allies of his existed, but superheroes were nowhere to be found (although some people reacted in terror at him, shouting "IT'S DANNER! HE'S COME BACK TO KILL US!", the significance of which was lost on Clark).

He had met a woman named Margo Lane when looking for this world's Lois, telling her he was a farmboy from Kansas lost in the big city looking for a friend with the same last name. Margo didn't recognize anyone named Lois, and Clark could tell she was only pretending to believe his story (even though it was true, in a sense), but through her, he met a tall, gaunt and hawk-like millionaire by the name of Lamont Cranston, a name Clark recognized from an old radio show Jonathan used to listen.

He had an idea of who The Shadow was. An old detective from a radio show or pulp magazines, sure, Superman's been to worlds he used to think were fictional before, some people still think he's as real as Santa Claus (who was going to join him and the Easter Bunny for checkers next Sunday).

Their conversation of platitudes was cut short, as it wasn't long before the Hypertime Collider was soon transporting him to a different time period, but before he was ejected, he remembered the moment their conversation ended.

Shortly before he could feel the Collider breaking and warping time and space in a chokehold around him, he remembered an eerie silence fall on the room. Though his hearing senses in this world were diminished, he could still pick up minute sounds from miles away, and it was a strange sensation to hear the sound of nothing. A sound that did not exist but silenced everything around it with deafening precision, a sound that Clark had not heard even in the deepest recesses of space, when he could still hear his body's metabolism at work. For a moment, though he did not need it to survive, Clark worried his heart had stopped working, for he could not hear it.

It surely was the Collider's effect at work, he reasoned.

But in that brief moment, whatever surprise he expected to find on Cranston's expression was nowhere to be found. Instead, scattered shadows slashed across his face as the air around him changed and he closed his eyes. He was still wearing Cranston's face when he opened them, and once again, they did not match his face.

The last thing he remembered before his ejection was a voice that cut through the air and the meters separating them, that sounded like a python hissing in Clark's ear, from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"This is not your world."

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

The second time was in another dimensional sojourn, this time of his volition.

Having borrowed a portal from Cyberwear Enterprises, Clark was rehearsing a speech intended for the Reginellian people of the Bohren System, one he was expected to give through blinking in reverse morse code, and in order to ensure the atmosphere of their planet would allow them to hear him, Clark intended to pay them a visit. But instead, he was transported somewhere else.

Before he could properly register the time period and location he had landed, he had encountered The Shadow in the middle of rescuing a steamship on fire from sinking.

He was clinging to the side of it unseen from the panicking passangers, drilling bullet holes to the bottom of the ship so it would fall to the side and steer clear from a passing fireworks yacht. He was holding a rope attached to a nearby tugboat with one hand, and with the other he was clinging to the boat's window. The tugboat was moving outside of the steamship's range, and as it moved, it would drag The Shadow and tilt the steamship as he gripped it, just enough to prevent the steamship from colliding head-on with the coming barge.

The tugboat had three men within it, one piloting it and two holding on to the rope that The Shadow had attached, working along with The Shadow to try and pull the steamship. One of these men had a missing eye and was dressed in aviator gear, presumably the pilot of the autogyro atop the tugboat. The other was a tall, muscular black man in suspenders, who dwarfed the pilot in both size and strength.

The strain of their pull could dislocate The Shadow's arms at the very minimum, if not outright kill him, his plunge would carry him 20 feet into the water and potentially under the sinking steamship. Still, they pulled with grim determination, although the boat driver had his eyes closed, and Clark recognized the Yiddish mutterings coming from his mouth as a desperate prayer.

Though they did not see him, these men were extremely thankful when Superman had blown out the inferno with a single breath, and pushed the boat all the way necessary for it's passangers to land on the barge safely, and rescued The Shadow.

Of course they knew the Chief was gonna pull through, he always does.

If The Shadow was thankful for Superman's interference, he didn't show it. In the second he had regained enough strength to talk, he rattled off dozens of names, of passangers in the steamship that had been bruised, by either the flames, the panicking crowd, or the criminals that The Shadow had stopped. People that needed to be taken to medical assistance faster than the ambulances could carry them, of family members that had to be contacted.

He did so without looking at his rescuer, for he remembered Superman, who expected his presence in this timeline to have been erased after he'd destroyed the Hypertime Collider.

Nothing indicated it hadn't been.

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

Their most recent encounter was the outcome of an accident where Vandal Savage had trapped Superman in the Arctic and rebuilt his Hypertime Collider, in the hopes of contacting alternate versions of himself so they could all gain Superman's powers and conquer their worlds.

One of said versions was hunted by The Shadow through the portals. The adventure ended rather quickly as the Savages all turned on each other in their tried-and-true method of solving problems with large rocks, but amidst the chaos, a final burst of energy had granted The Shadow a temporary access to Superman's powers.

Thoughts passed through Clark's head of the last time Bruce had accidentally gained access to Superman's abilities, and how despite his best intentions, Bruce couldn't help but overestimate his own ability to wield said powers responsibly. Of how many times he's come across iterations of Bruce who've gained superpowers and used them poorly or tyranically.

He thought of how often he needed to reign himself back, and of the man in black who stood before him, with eyes like thunderstorms ready to break.

The ways in which he is like Bruce, and the ways in which he is decidedly not.

But before Superman could take any sort of action or even ask how he was feeling, The Shadow turned around silently and started walking, straight in the direction of the Fortress of Solitude.

Upon reaching it, he took the million-ton key from beneath the rug that spelled Welcome in a million languages, opened the door, and walked straight into a high security anti-Superman cell within it, designed specifically as a desperate measure against rogue Kryptonians, only stating Superman was going to have to watch him so he couldn't escape.

Clark had never even told him about the Fortress.

He stayed there for the next 12 hours, as Superman ran tests on him to ensure his body wouldn't be negatively affected by the transformation. Clark chose not to remark that some of the bone-deep injuries he had spotted on The Shadow's body previously had healed, as he knew it wouldn't take long for him to acquire new ones after this was over.

They talked briefly at points, and for much of it, The Shadow assumed the façade of Cranston. Sometimes he remembered to breathe and blink, things he forgot to do with startling ease once he no longer needed them.

Clark understood it to be a diplomatic gesture, a façade over the untameable and fearsome Shadow who was frankly unnerving to be around. Even a kind gesture, an effort to address Superman as a man asking for help. Not different than how Superman would prefer to be Clark Kent in order to approach people and ask questions and say things that Superman could never say.

There was a discomfort, of course. There would always be one between the two.

Still, Superman took it as a victory when, after the 12 hours were over, he heard that familiar hiss, with equal intensity but no aggression or even contempt, spell out a "Thank you", as he turned around and was unsurprised to find The Shadow no longer there.

They were not friends, they were not enemies, they belonged to different worlds. They were opposites in their battles for truth and justice.

But truths are often opposite. It is a truth that not all opposites are opposed.

Truth is often as chilling as it can be comforting.

#replies tag #superman #the shadow #clark kent #lamont cranston #my writing #i gotta start putting more of my writing out there and idk i just felt like i had to answer this question this way #i don't question what my brain tells me to do anymore

[satsuma-saturn]

Hello hello, may I please get a matchup? I’m a guy standing maybe 5’6, super curly hair, freckles, glasses. I’m the dark academia type fashion wise. I’m an ESTP 7w8; I’m super outgoing and love trying new things, but, I have anxiety and tend to overthink a lot. I’m stubborn, and definitely have an angry streak. I have a hard time being affectionate, and I’m definitely more cold than most people. I’ve also got pretty high walls when it comes to trust. I love academics, and plan on going into teaching. I also love theology, music, and architecture. I play piano in my free time, along with the drums. Thanks so much, and I wish you happy holidays! -🦇🩸

I haven't done one of these in awhile (as u can tell, they said happy holidays and it is no longer the holidays) but i've been inactive for too long owo. also i have covid lmao (this isn't fu nny it's a cry for help) Anyways, to answer ur matchup request

I think you would pair well with Lucifer

Before u say anything, hear me out. I have my reasonings for doing so >:c

So, the obvious demon to pair u with would be Satan, buuuuuuut, I think Lucifer is a better choice for several reasons

First, he is also of the dark academia type. I know, I know, opposites attract or whatever, but there can only be so much opposite before u start running into issues. Therefore, similar aesthetics = love or smth like that idk I'm not the rule maker, I just say what I see.

Second, when he's not mad, he has a v calm, reassuring personality. I mean, we've all seen the small interactions w/ each brother where he's v loving to them, even if he generally tries to portray himself as a big meanie. He would definitely look to logic and reasoning to help w/ anxiety and overthinking, which can be v helpful on the overthinking front.

Stubborn???? U don't know the definition of stubborn until u've met this man /hj. U would be like an unstoppable force vs an unmovable object and that would be hilarious huehuehue

He's a music man. He enjoys music and what better form of music than to hear it being played by ur beloved? U, being the beloved in this case, Anon. He also seems like he's a whore for the piano idk.

U got walls? He's got walls too. He'll break urs down like Mount Vesuvius, babey!

I'm like 110% sure he loves theology too, for uh, obvious reasons

I think I covered everything and I hope this isn't abhorrently late (it def is), but thanks for ur request, Anon!

#obey me #matchup request #request #matchup #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #swd #om! #swd lucifer

[whimsywit]

HAI BABES-

I'm immediately going to jump in cause hehe I'm a sucker for matchups.

Can I have a Truffle for Fairy tail (male) please?

Appearance and style:

I'm a female, 5'1ft and 110lbs (154 cm and 50 - 52Kg). I have short black hair and dark brown eyes. I'm also baby faced which can be annoying at times. I'm slight on the chubby side as well but a lot of people tell me I have an avarage body. My body type is rectangle. I'm in between pale and light brown skinned and my skin is littered with moles and scars. I'm a pure Filipino and I have prescription glasses but I can see fine without them. I've often been called a "soft girl" but I really don't have a certain styles. My clothes are often t-shirts, off-shoulders, (of multiple color and style) and any type jeans. But skinny jeans are my favorite! Hoodies and jackets are a must in winter season. Cause my skin is quite temperature sensitive.

Personality:

I'm often described as a chaotic motherly type of person. But really, it depends per person. I love to tease others but it's not often. And I won't tease them if they are sensitive or short tempered. I can be loud and obnoxious at times but I prefer to stay quiet. But with people I'm very close with, I'm just naturally loud. I can also be such a flirt if I wanted too but I only reserve those skills when needed. It's kinda rusty now but I think I still got it! My patience is very long and I don't get annoyed easily. Though push the right buttons, it won't be pretty.

Affection, teasing, and words are my love language. I tend to get just a tad bit grumpy when I don't get affection. I'm a really observant person, so I'm able to pick up emotional cues, habits, and body language. Though it's does take me a while to get the hang of it. I use that to check on people I care about. I try to act tough and strong so I would be a role model, since I'm the oldest child. I also tend to suppress my emotions and even fake them just so no one would be burden of me. I do share them if I trust you enough. I have the habit of subconsciously changing how I act depending on the people I'm with. I can changed from tye baby of the group to the mature mother to the trouble maker and to the quiet child. It usually depends with the group of people I hang out with.

Flaws and strengths:

I can be really insecure and really clingy. My insecurities are usually my body and my abilities. Not only that, I can also be moody, especially on that time of the month. I overthink things a lot. I sometimes even wonder if my friends actually are my friends or they are just tolerating/pity me. Some say I have trust issues (but honestly I don't think I have trust issues I just overthink things). I'm not afraid of material things or the supernatural. I'm afraid of being judged and left alone or abandoned. I also have a slight fear of falling, both literally and metaphorically. I hate the feeling the loneliness.

But I do give good advice, that's what alot of people tell me. My optimism and energy almost always lifts the mood up. I'm great with talking to people. May it be comforting them, persuading, I can do that. I'm also quite good at reading people. Especially if they are close to me and I've been through things alot with them.

Significant other:

Whenever I like someone, it usually ain't obvious to anyone else, since I'm known to be clingy. But, I would be in TOTAL denial of my own feelings and theirs. It takes me about a month or so to realize my feelings WITH help. My closest friend always has to tell me that I like the guy before I would actually realize it for myself. However, towards them, it seems as if I'm normal. But whenever they are gone, my fan girl self comes out and I'll squeal.

In terms of WHAT I want in a significant other. One of the things that is needed is that they don't mind me being clingy. They should also be willing to put up with me in general. As I can be moody and an overthinker, they just have to be able to either deal or tolerate it. However, in terms of their personality, I don't really mind how they would act. As long as they are morally good. Possessive? Sure just don't go over board. Protective? Same as the last one, no over board. I know that relationships aren't perfect so whatever flaws they have. I don't care. Being mean for no reason, not open minded, inconsiderate all the time, are an immediate turn off though.

Random facts:

I usually listen to pop or ballad but I like almostvall types of music. Songs like IDK you yet by Alexander23 or This is gospel by Panic at the disco are some of my favorite. My star sign is Cancer but I don't really believe it but I love learning about it. I'm an INFP-T (The dreamer) and my Hogwarts house is Ravenclaw! I love learning and doing new things. Science is my favorite subject, specifically Biology/Zoology. I sing and write stories as a hobby.

Thanks! 💕💕 If you need any info please don't hesitate to ask me :DD

HAIIII TYSM okay so this one took a bit of thought since you could work well with a lot of people! But I eventually decided you’d mesh best with...

Natsu Dragneel!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yep, the big fireball of power himself :D but really he’s the opposite of intimidating, and ngl you’re gonna have to end up playing mother to him a lot, but when you’re in your loud and chaotic moods you’re the b a n e of the whole guild and an unstoppable force of mischief!

Some of the things that’ll put you on his radar are your optimism and your ability to act strong even when you’re struggling, both of which he’d deeply admire, but he also thinks all your little marks are cool as hell! He calls them your own personal dragon scales >:D

You want someone with good morals? This slayers got the strongest moral compass around. Able to handle your clinginess? He’s already super affectionate maybe to the point of forgetting personal space is a thing so there’s no worry there! Plus he’s got his own temper, so he wouldn’t judge you for being moody, and though he might come off as close-minded sometimes, he’s really just hard-headed. Once you explain something to him he’s on board with anything and everything!

Though, with you being oblivious when it comes to love and him being oblivious..... period, it’d take a while for your relationship to start up, and likely some extra intervention from your friends too. But once y’all are together, trust, you’re practically inseparable.

Natsu thinks you’re the cutest thing around, yea he’d have a bad habit of teasing you for your size, but he’d make up for it with his constant blind protectiveness, and the way he’d pick you up and carry you around all the time uwu. It’s actually a really good balance, since you overthink and he doesn’t think enough (have fun with the braincell custody), but he simplifies things for you so you don’t get too caught up in your doubts, and you make him more conscious of others by example. (also just.... you getting cold in the winter and him warming you up or EVEN WRAPPING HIS SCARF AROUND YOU gosh... good stuff sorcerer weekly eats yalls shit up)

Honestly it’s a bit of an odd pair with you two being so different, but Natsu’s always going to support you, whether it’s relieving you of your insecurities or helping you with your science stuff whenever he can (he won’t get it but boy will he help)! And one thing’s for sure, his loyalty is like no other, so you never have to worry about him leaving you alone.

#order up: caramel truffle! #fairy tail #fairy tail x reader #fairy tail matchup #natsu dragneel #anime matchup

[ambered-glazed-sheep]

Please do go on about Doomslayer and his morals. I'm legit fascinated by him since starting the let's play I'm watching and I'd love to hear your take on him (I know literally nothing about the Doom franchise other than lots of blood and violence against demons and also badass music)

You know, a year ago when my friends asked me 'hey do you wanna play minecraft' and i said 'yeah sure' i would have never thought i would one day have a minecraft sideblog where i get questions about the personality of the main character of a shooter fps game (of all things!) that is known for its incredible violence.

But here you go:

(prepare yourself this has gotten way longer than i thought oh god, and also it has nothing to do with hermits whatsoever. warnings for language and descriptions of violence? and i assume the readmore won’t be working the way i want it to)

Ok so, Doom!

First of all, i know nothing about the old games, and i’ve only seen a minimal amount of Doom Eternal Letsplays. Most of this is based on Doom (2016). 

Ok so we all start out thinking Doomguy! It’s the guy you play in Doom. The hand that hold the gun YOU are shooting demons with. And sure, you can go trough the whole game with that mindset, but that’s boring and we are overthinking fictional characters in this house.

ID software actually managed to give Doomguy/Doomslayer a TON of personality despite him never saying a word, barely any cutscenes to show what he does when you don’t control him (at least in Doom 2016), and not a lot of other characters to interact with despite enemy monsters.

The game just leaves you little hints and snippets and that’s what makes Doomslayer so exciting to think about. Just the right levels between ‘cryptid half-god who never shows emotion and is a player-insert’ and ‘this dude’s got an AGENDA. he has PLACES TO BE’. You are him as you play, but sometimes he makes decisions on his own. But personally, i could never find myself to disagree.

First, you got the intro sequence. 

You got a unknown voice telling you: 

“They are rage. Brutal, without mercy. But you. You will be worse. Rip and Tear, until it is done.”

First of all, YO. WOW. HOLY SHIT.

The scene immediately shifts to Doomslayer waking up. He’s naked, he’s chained down somewhere, theresa SHIT TON of scars littering his arms and hands. First thing HE does, on his own behalf, is ripping off the chains by flexing a little (literal iron chains!!!), smashing a zombies head against the sarcophagus he lays in and completely obliterating said head into a bit of blood (mind you, three seconds after he woke up from a thousands of years long coma!! but we only learn that later), and then promptly gets up, picks up a pistol, and now it’s your, the players turn. This takes like 8 seconds in total. This man means BUSINESS. That’s the first thing we learn.

Second thing that strikes me is the interactions with Samuel Hayden. 

Doomslayer is patient when a computer voice tells him the status of the base. He is patient as he looks at the screens to see what is going on. (a demonic invasion, thats what). But then dear Dr. Samuel Hayden calls. 

Dr. Hayden says “Hi, i’m the boss here, i’m sure we can work together in a way that benefits us both uwu”. Doomslayer immediately grabs the PC screen and pushes it aside. His gesture says, i’m done with this. im sick of this dude. this guy is full of shit. And he’s right! And that after barely hearing two sentences from Hayden!

So the second thing we learn is that he has no time for people trying to exploit him. He hears Hayden, he has a gut feeling that this dude is a little fishy, maybe he just plain doesnt like higher ups and heads of facilities. But we learn that he IS. NOT. going to listen to this man, and his body language makes that very clear without being actually violent against the person (he doesnt destroy the Screen either! just pushes it aside very annoyed. He isn’t mindlessly destroying property here.)

This continues. 

Hayden goes ‘hey maybe don’t destroy that energy source!’ in the few seconds you dont control him, Doomslayer listens. He hesitates. He considers. Then he destroys the thing anyways. Hayden keeps telling him to stop, but Doomslayer doesnt listen. He’s got his own mind!

This was mostly about Haydens Company, the UAC, harvesting hell energy, and hurting people in the process. 

There’s a scene where Doomslayer rides an elevator. Hayden, over the comms, tells him that everyone that has died in the demon attack was a nacessary sacrifice that will bring a new future or some shit like that. the camera pans down to show some poor sods corpse at those very words. Doomslayer cracks his knuckles. he is NOT HAPPY about that, so we know he doesnt like it when human lifes are sacrificed. He destroys the communicator, so he doesnt have to listen to Haydens voice telling him lies and trying to sway him anymore. 

(then he takes out his shotgun, the doors open, metal starts playing and the doom logo is shown, but that’s more about making the player feel epic than showing doomslayers personality,,)

Now i would like to talk about VEGA, the AI that controls the mars facility. 

VEGA occasionally talks to us/the Slayer. He is very straightforward, tells us what to do and why to do it, and is generally very polite. In the story, Doomslayer listens to Vega. 

Now why does he listen to VEGA but not Hayden? 

I think it’s because Hayden tries to get him to do things that just benefit him, and Hayden is very manipulative in his words (or tries to be lol), while Vega just says (if you destroy this thing, that door will open. I think Doomslayer appreciates it when people are honest to him.

And in the end, Doomslayer on his own decides to save a backup of VEGA. VEGA didn’t ask him to, Doomslayer did that on his own. It’s not relevant to his mission, he doesnt need VEGA to go to hell to close portals and whatnot. But he does save him. Why? I think it’s because he cares. Because he’s come to like VEGA. Because Vega didn’t try to manipulate him and screw him over. 

Next up is the Slayers Testament. 

These are a bunch of writings/recordings that you find scattered in the hell levels. (i highly recommend listening to them/reading them, they are metal as fuck and give me such an immense feeling of power bc they are talking about me, the doomslayer)

These testaments were written by demons. They were genuinely afraid of the slayer. 

Quote:

Unbreakable, incorruptible, unyielding, the Doom Slayer sought to end the dominion of the dark realm.

As said, i don’t think these are purely talking about his physical strength. They are talking about his... well, mentality. His Codex. They see him as an unstoppable force. He is incorruptible. Let that sink in. Man walks trough hordes of demons and at no point ever thinks ‘yeah maybe this is a bit much’ or ‘they just keep coming this is pointless’. No. He’s unyielding. (Can you tell how much i love the words in these testaments? It’s just got such a nice ring to it.)

In battle, the Doomslayer is BRUTAL. He tears apart demons, rips their eyes out, all that. He stomps on heads like they’re water balloons and isn’t fazed at all. Nothing stops this man. (except players like me who fall off the map 5 consecutive times, but lets just imagine the doomslayer is actually like he would be if someone played the game perfectly. player skill shouldn’t be considered in my headcanons jahdjhgd) One could even argue he has fun at this, because there are some animations like ripping off a zombies arm and beating the Zombie with it, or feeding a demon it’s own heart.

I feel like that says a lot about his personality as well!

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t question his cause! He fights to get rid of the demons, not just the ones in his way, but every. demon. He will go out of his way to kill more demons. You could either take this as him having fun, or him following his own moral codex to get rid of every demon, or him being a not-quite-human war machine, or wanting to protect humanity from them. 

I would say it’s a healthy mix of all that :D

In older games, there was this whole backstory snippet of him returning to earth, finding that the demons had invaded his planet but also killed his pet rabbit (Daisy), and he then goes onto a 2-game long revenge trip.Take that as you will.

The last thing i would like to mention is this post.

Please watch the video. Doomguy walks trough the rows of random human guards. This is the walk of a man who doesn’t owe them SHIT. Yes, he wants to save humanity. Yes, he cares. But he also knows who he is. He knows what he did, and what he will do. He doesn’t have to justify himself in front of these shady scientists and jerky guards.THEY owe HIM, in fact. This video emits the sheer CONFIDENCE of someone who has walked trough hell multiple times and knows none of these people could even touch him. Yes, he would never kill them. He would not harm humans. But he doesn’t care about making them uncomfortable with his presence, either. He doesnt ask for permission.

(i think by now i am using the exact same words they did in that post. really, its worth the read. i think there’s a lot of repeated things between this post and that post by now but i encourage you to watch that video. its worth it.)

Also, the impact he has on the people in this room! they trip. they walk backwards. they go quiet, stutter. they are intimidated. They know he’s technically here to help and save them, but now, standing in front of them.... just wow. it really puts things into perspective. it tells the player that all the demons that he’s killed, all that the doomslayer has done... its noted. it has an impact. 

I’m not really sure where i’m going with this anymore, but watching those NPCs react to the slayers presence just adds so much more to his character. it tells us how people see him, and boy.... do they see him. 

i think it also ties a lot into how the player is made feel, controlling doomguy. all these head stomping and limp tearing animations, the guns, people being scared, watching doomslayer destroy important equipment from first pirson or pushing open doors or whatever... it just gives me such an immense feeling of power! i can’t even describe it. (...it also has nothing to do anymore with the original question but holy shit did i love playing doom for the sheer atmosphere of it. despite me being horrible at playing.)

(at the end of this i’m realizing that all of this never addressed if doomslayer is happy and content murdering demons, or if he just wants his peace and quiet but can’t help himself every time he sees a demon. i would propose to leave that up to headcanons. mine is a mix of both but in a way that makes it not angsty. like he loves to have his calm moments, but is just as happy to rip some demon’s spine out. probably gets a little itchy and impatient if he hasn’t fought in a while.)

also if you’re interested in game design and way more professional people talking about why doom 2016 is great i reccomend this documentary

...anyways it’s past 1am and this has gotten way out of hand but

tl;dr: the doomslayer is metal as fuck, he has a lot of agenda he is following, and i love him so much

#amber talks #doom #where do i even begin with this? #i wanted to answer this in the morning but that was over an hour ago now #jdakjsdhasdjh i can't help myself theres so much to say about doom!!!! #you asked for this anon #it's just so... *clenches fist* #i forgot of course that the music is pretty much the best thing ever and i've been listening to it SO MUCH while writing litve #everything about this game is designed to make you feel powerful and HOLY SHIT is it working #id software did a great job #i watched a whole documentary on this it was great #...yeah i study 3d stuff this is pretty much in m #my field haha #i've just had all these feelings in me for months and now that someone showed the slightest hint of interest it's all coming out #sorry its so unorganized i tried to at least take one point after the other #now to write another essay on why the slayer and the mandalorian are very alike in some parts but mando is so much softer #(its because slayer has been trough hell and back while mando still has hope in the world) #(i mean mando is a jaded and tough bounty hunter but all that he is doomslayer is cranked up to eleven) #(shush now i said in another essay! go to bed) #(....its not gonna be an essay its gonna be a fanfic and its gonna be great) #(mando is such a softie......) #*pushes my mando/slayer agenda on my side blog as well* ah i see #long post #...very long post #hey i've hit 2k words with this! #....i've written litve chapters that are shorter #EDIT: WAIT FUCK I THINK I MIXED UP THE SECURITY GUARDS LINES WITH A FIC I READ ONCE #or did i gave EX that line in the last ask i answered???? #i'm??? im gonna go to sleep lol

[killscreencinema]

Doom Eternal (PS4)

Rip n’ tear!

Rip n’ tear!

Rip n’ tear!

5 stars.

End of review.

Nah, just kidding, but that does more or less summarize my feelings on Doom Eternal, the sequel to the masterpiece soft reboot of Doom that came out in 2016, other wise known as Doom 2016.  On a side note, who would have thought “Doom 2016″ would have ended up being an omen of the following four year?  Weird.

Anyway, speaking of Hell on Earth, Doom Eternal’s plot revolves around an all-out demonic invasion of Earth, with humanity’s only hope being the DoomSlayer (aka, the Doomguy).  A lot has changed since he last thwarted Hell’s efforts on Mars, such as the DoomSlayer’s swanky new mothership known as the Fortress of Doom.  Where did he get it?  That information is probably provided in the loads of codex pages you find throughout the game that fill in the gaps in the lore.

Which brings me to my first problem with the game - too much story getting in the way of my ripping n’ tearing.  I know, I could skip the cutscenes, but that ain’t really the point.  Part of Doom 2016′s charm was its middle finger to story intensive gameplay and obnoxiously extensive game lore.  What minimal story there was in the game was carried out organically during gameplay, similar to Half Life 2.  Nothing ever felt like a cut scene or a complete interruption of the game.  Also, the story pretty simple - you are a legendary badass who has been resurrected to save Mars, and by proxy the Earth, from the forces of Hell.

Doom Eternal tries to expand on the lore by giving Doomguy a backstory, involving him belonging to a race of demi-gods known as “Sentinels” who have stood in opposition to Hell throughout the ages.  That’s pretty lame, as the appeal of THE DOOMSLAYER to me is that he’s just a regular dude who is so good as slaying demons at will, they’ve built a mythology around him as an unstoppable killing machine and the only being demons fear.  That’s enough for me - I don’t need him to be part of a lineage of “Slayers” or some shit like that.  YOU’RE OVERTHINKING THINGS BETHESDA! 

I won’t lie though - there were some cutscenes I enjoyed, such as any time Doomguy interacts with other humans, who all scurry out of his way in fear or are just paralyzed in awe. 

Another issue I have with the game is THERE’S TOO MANY WAYS TO KILL THINGS!  I know, it’s an odd complaint, but bear with me here.  So you have 8 standard weapons, but each weapon, except the Super Shotgun and the BFG, have two mods each that fundamentally changes them into new weapons essentially.  So counting the mods, and the chainsaw, you have 21 weapons to choose from!  That’s... a lot of goddamn weapons.  I envision Doomguy comically approaching a demon fight, both hands full of so many weapons they clatter to the ground as he tries to pick the best one for the fight.  Then there are the frag grenades, the ice grenades, the flame thrower, the “Blood Punch”, and eventually the one-hit-kill sword.  All this results in me either pushing the wrong button for what I want (”Ah shit, I meant select the sword, but I accidentally switched my frag grenades to ice grenades!”) or getting pounded by projectiles in slow motion as I go through my weapons and try to figure out the best one for this particular encounter. 

Oh shit, and then there are the Runes, which give you different abilities while equipped AND you can upgrade the Praetor suit.  Oh, and you can upgrade your stats by finding crystals along the way.  It’s just too much, and a little overwhelming to juggle at first.  I just wanna shoot things, Doom Eternal!

Well, fortunately the game has plenty of that and then some.  The combat is just as intense and frenetic as Doom 2016, with “glory kills” still in full effect and a nice variety of demons to maul.  There’s nothing quite as satisfying as the visceral thrill of tearing a Cacao demon to pieces.  Doom Eternal can also be extremely challenging, especially if you dare to venture into the harder difficulty settings.  I tried playing through it on “Ultra-Violence” (the Doom equivalent of “Hard”) and got my ass humbled back into “Hurt Me Plenty” (aka “normal”) pretty quickly. 

While Doom Eternal might be a little too bloated, like a Mancubator on a Golden Corral binge, it’s still, at its core, every bit as fun as its predecessor.  The graphics are amazing, especially the lovingly crafted, ultra detailed level designs.  There were many instances, in between battles of course, that I would just stand there and take in the environments.  So if you loved Doom 2016, and current events make you wanna tear things to pieces, preferably virtual things, then Doom Eternal is a solid playthrough.

  UPDATE

Since posting this review, I have gone on to play the online “Battlemode”.  Normally, I don’t care for online multiplayer games.   Playing games have always been a solo activity for me - a way to take a break from people.  Also, playing online games seems frustrating in that you almost always start with a huge difficulty curve as you often play against people who LIVE AND BREATH the game 24/7, and therefor, have the uncanny knack to destroy you utterly and immediately before you have a chance to move, much less “get gud”. 

Anyway, I started playing Battlemode solely to pop the PS4 trophies associated with it so that I can Platinum the game.  I must admit, now that I’ve taken the “PS Plus plunge”, I’m curious to check out other online games people seem to be nuts about like Rocket League (which honestly looks fun as hell, I must admit) and Overwatch.  So I figured it was only fair to edit my review to include my impressions of Doom Eternal’s online mode, which is thus..

My usual gripes about online death match difficulty curves aside, “Battlemode” is incredibly lopsided with its premise of 2 player demons versus one player Slayer.  Not only are the odds stacked against you as the Slayer, but the demons also have the ability to summon minions to pester you, make your loot disappear (thereby making health replenishment a pain in the ass), and they respawn if you don’t kill them both within 20 seconds.  As the Slayer, when you are up against two players who are extremely good as demons, the round can be over in seconds, which is infuriating and not remotely fun.   

Meanwhile, playing as a demon is much easier for all the reason listed above, despite some demons handling better than others.  The only difficulty is that the Slayer is inherently faster and more agile than any demon you can choose, which is the only real advantage a Slayer has.  None of this would be a problem if you could just knock out the trophies as a demon, even though it’s a bit of an irritating grind, except one trophy REQUIRES you to be the Slayer - the Weapons Expert trophy, wherein you must kill player demons with each of the 8 weapons at your disposal, including the BFG, which you only have the option of using should you survive to Round 4 (which odds are you won’t).  It’s an incredibly frustrating task, but I got lucky and found a lobby where the player demons were either exceptionally bad or were away from their controller a lot.  So I was able to knock out this trophy at my convenience then, but only after several incredibly frustrating failed attempts.

The only other trophy where being the Slayer is ideal is the “Blood Bath” trophy, where you must kill 200 opponents.  This goes by a lot quicker as the Slayer if you can manage to consistently kill both player demons every round in every match, but you’ll be lucky to kill even one.  However, even then, that can work to your advantage because when they respawn, you can kill them again and rack up another point towards the trophy.  Trying to pop this trophy as a demon is less of a headache, but still sucks because it’s too slow and possible your demon ally will get the deathblow, thereby stealing your point.

So the point of all this is to say I hate Battlemode.  I hate it with a burning passion not unlike the fires of Hell.  I wish the online feature of this game could have just been a good ol’ fashion Death Match.  It’s also bullshit that the game even has trophies you can’t pop unless you play online, because what if you’re a late comer and nobody is playing Battlemode anymore?  Does that mean you just can’t Platinum Doom Eternal?  It’s also mild extortion in that it forces you to pay for PS Plus if you don’t already have it.

So there you have it:

Doom Eternal solo campaign = good

Doom Eternal Battlemode = bad

Happy slaying!

#doom #doom eternal #bethesda #id software #fps #sony #ps4 #playstation 4 #the doom slayer #first person shooter

[slayercordelia]

honestly, bellamy and clarke’s hallucinations really do say a lot about why they work so well together (despite bellamy saying that he doesn’t need her anymore, but, like, we aren’t going to talk about that because it’s too traumatic). both of them talk each other down from what they’re going through, because that’s what the juxtaposition of the head & the heart does for them. for clarke, she shows love through acts of selflessness (much to bellamy’s dismay), she would send herself into battle or refuse to put herself in the bunker and die in the second apocalypse than see any one of her people get hurt. she overthinks everything to the point of paranoia (the head) and sees herself as the liability because of this, inducing her hallucination and attempted suicide. whereas bellamy’s main motivator is love (the heart), he would rather seek out whatever external force is hurting his loved ones and do anything to stop that from happening. in his hallucination this flipped and his loved ones became the enemies. he isn’t rational, he simply works on the principle that an immediate attack on anyone he cares about must be stopped so he tried to attack murphy and clarke. this shows how their roles as the head and the heart come into play. bellamy sees that clarke’s intense way of thinking can be self destructive and he talks her down (e.g. that fucking heartbreaking conversation at the end of 2x16) but clarke doesn’t need him when she’s hallucinating or not properly in her head, because she can talk herself down instead. she needs him when she’s thinking too much about the weight of her decisions, and blaming herself for every imperfection which is when he can be of help to her rationalising that there was no other choice. whereas clarke sees the irrationality in bellamy’s emotion driven decision making (as in his hallucinations) and does what she can to stop him from doing whatever he will do for the people he loves. bellamy needs clarke when he lets his emotions get the better of him, or when he’s not in his right mind. there she can talk him down, calmly give him forgiveness and rationally let him know that in that moment everything isn’t as dire and simple as it needs to be. the lines of enemy and friend are blurred and an enemy for now isn’t an enemy forever. the head & the heart will always and forever be an unstoppable force of nature together, even throughout two hallucinogenic trips (does everyone remember 1x08) and also bellamy BETTER NOT have accidentally killed murphy because i don’t think he could ever recover from that tbh. so, to summarise: honestly i really don’t understand how on earth, pun intended, they survived an entire six years without each other tbh & they’re fooling themselves if they think they’re not in love. you’re welcome.

#the 100 #the 100 spoilers #bellarke #the 100 s6 #the 100 6x02 #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #textt

[cobrakai1967]

please take me home 💟 tom delonge

 gif isn’t mine, credit goes to the owner.

song that goes with: please take me home by blink-182

Summary: reader and tom are friends, but the reader catches feelings and feels like it’s time to tell tom.

Warning: nothing really

a/n: just getting this out of my drafts, hopefully i’ll be able to find endings for my draft box writings. this takes place anywhere from 1999-2001

as always, feedback would be appreciated!

~~

You saw it, there was no way your mind was able to play that big of a trick on you. His hands were on the small of her back as she leaned into him, they were laughing and smiling. The pit in your stomach grew as your eyes remained trained on them. Their touches lingering a little too long. Normally, if it was a fan, you didn’t get jealous, but it wasn’t a fan. It was Jennifer, Tom’s ex. They had been dating for a couple of years before they broke up, Tom said it was a mutual break up, but you knew that it wasn’t. She wasn’t happy with the idea of him being such close friends with you and having you on tour with him.

Oh no, it happened again
She's cool, she's hot, she's my friend
I'd drive for hours it's so
You leave me nowhere to go

              The only reason you joined the tour was because Travis, you and he had been friends for years. Since you were 13, to be exact. You and Tom became closer after he found out you played the guitar, and you began helping out when it came to writing songs. If the boys had any troubles writing a song, you would help by giving your own ideas. You became inseparable, your feelings for him without a doubt grew. To the point where you almost didn’t care if he noticed, you just wanted him.

              You roll your eyes as they finally break from their burning glare as you heard Travis come up behind you, “What are you…Oh..” His eyes finally met the same gaze as yours, causing a frown to form on your lips. “Wanna go back to the bus?”

Your hand subconsciously ran through your hair, you sighed out as you shrugged. “Sure,” Travis threw his arm around your shoulder as he began leading you two to the bus. You laid your head on his shoulder as you walked in a comfortable silence. He wasn’t your boyfriend anyways, and he doesn’t know about your feelings anyways. So why does it matter? Just be happy for him. You fought with yourself as you reached the bus. The silence was comforting as you both laid in his bunk, you let your head rest on his chest as he began playing with your hair.

She's unstoppable, unpredictable
I'm so jaded, calculated wrong
Please take me home
Too late, it's gone
I bet you're sad
This is the best time we ever had

              “I don’t know...I just feel so stupid; I don’t know what I expected...” You began to mutter, “I knew he still had feelings for her.” You tucked your hand under Travis’s side as you shifted to get comfortable. “What if it’s not even what I think it is? Then I’ll just be stupid for overthinking it and jumping to conclusions.” You continued to ramble on, eventually putting Travis and yourself to sleep.              

You didn’t know how long you and Travis had been asleep, but you were woken up with the sound of Tom and Mark talking and laughing loudly. You groaned as you shifted, your arm around Travis tightened as you slowly opened your eyes. Squinting as they adjusted to the light, you slowly crawled out of the bunk, hoping to not wake Travis up. Tom’s eyes shot up to you as a smile appeared on his face, you gave him a sad smiled before your eyes shifted away.

              “Hey Mark…” You muttered, clearing your throat. “Hey Tom.” You made your way back to the small couch; you grabbed your magazine as you tried your best to ignore the looks Tom was giving you. You felt the couch dip next to you, knowing it was Tom already, you didn’t even bother to look up from your magazine.

              “What’s wrong?” He whispered as he rubbed small circles in your arm with his index finger. Your eyes fluttered shut as it still comforted you, even though you were upset with him. Goosebumps began spreading around your skin where his finger touched. You felt the tears form in your eyes as you kept your eyes shut, tightening them as you tried to force the tears back.

“We, um, need to talk, Tom..” You spoke almost inaudible; your magazine was now shut. Your eyes finally opened, but they still avoided his gaze. You stood up and walked to the room in the back of the bus. Tom, who followed behind, shut the door and stood in front of you. His hands gently brushing the fallen strands of hair from your face. His touch sent goosebumps up your spine; your heart beat increased. Was this it? What would happen if he doesn’t feel the same? Am I gonna get kicked off tour? Your mind began to race as you finally met his eyes. The gaze he held was gentle.

Buy hope, hope that it lasts
Give in, forget the past
Be strong when things fall apart
Honest, this breaks my heart

              “I-I…” Your breath caught in your throat as you hesitated to say anything. “I caught feelings for you.” You blurted it out, your eyes left his as you were too scared to see his reaction right away. When there was a good moment of silence, you finally looked up at him. His face shocked at the words that just left your mouth. “You don’t have to say you feel the same, I would understand if you didn’t. I know that you want to get back with Jennifer, but I just had to tell you before it was too late, before there was no longer a chance of you being mine.”

              Tom didn’t say anything, he was speechless. Instead, he pressed his lips against yours in hunger. His lips were soft against yours, just like you had imagined. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you in even closer. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. You bit his bottom lip as you began to pull away, releasing it. Your cheeks tinted pink as you looked up at him, your bodies were still close together.

              “I don’t want her, I want you…I never said I wanted to get back with her..Why do you think we broke up?” His eyes searched yours, “It was because I wanted you. She saw me and told me she was happy that our album got as much attention as it did. But I want you…It’s always been you.” You felt him squeeze your hips before leaning down to kiss you again.

#tom delonge #tom delonge blurb #tom delonge oneshot #tom delonge imagine #tom delonge imagines #tom delonge fluff #tom deonge angst #blink 182 blurb #blink 182 fluff #blink 182 oneshot #ptmh*

[as-write-as-rain]

Love Song

Pairing: Bassist!Bucky x Singer!Reader

Summary: Everyone in this band is your best friend, but you wish the bassist was a little more than that.

Warnings: PG Language. Lots of Fluff!

This is for @kentuckybarnes' 3k Writing Challenge! Here's your Rockstar!AU one-shot featuring Bucky w/ a Bass, I hope you enjoy it!! Here's my first attempt at fanfiction, and I've probably been overthinking it, but I'm fairly happy with the result. Please be kind!

You drew your coat tighter around yourself, hurrying across the quiet street. The streetlight illuminated the snow drifting through the air, giving a peaceful feeling to the night…but you barely even noticed. You were running late for practice, and you really weren’t in the mood to hear another lecture from Steve – not after the day you’d had. Work had been busy as hell, because someone had called in sick and you had to pick up the slack; then, when you’d finally clocked out and headed to class, you got your philosophy paper back with a big fat D at the top. All you wanted to do right now was hang out somewhere warm with your favorite people in the world and make some music. Luckily, you were finally on your way there now!

Everyone looked up as you (accidentally) slammed the door open to Steve’s apartment. Tossing them a “sorry!” cringe, you stomped your boots on the mat, trying to dislodge as much snow as you could. The last thing you needed was a bunch of puddles creating a real safety hazard in the middle of your jam session! Stuffing your hat and scarf into a pocket, you hung your coat from one of the hooks on the wall, and joined your friends in the living room.

“’Bout time you got here, girl – we were wondering where you were!” Sam’s voice, dripping in sarcasm, made it crystal clear how he felt about having had to wait for you, and the withering look you shot him in response only made him laugh. You’d been friends since third grade, and always liked to give each other a hard time. Carol was setting up her keyboard, but she tossed you one of her patented wry smiles, her twinkling eyes speaking volumes about what she thought of Sam’s antics. Thankfully, Steve was engrossed in a pile of papers and only glanced up briefly enough to give you a quick nod as you passed, before returning to his work.

You took a deep breath to mentally prepare yourself before turning towards the couch, where you had already spied Bucky out of the corner of your eye. He had one leg up on the edge of the couch where he was tuning his bass, but as you approached he looked up and smiled. You steadfastly ignored the way it made your heart squeeze, and just gave him a breezy smile in return, dropping your laptop bag onto the cushions with a little more force than you meant to.

He instinctively leaned a little closer to you, and, in a quiet voice, asked, “How’s it going?” You glanced over, appreciating the way he tried to keep the question just between the two of you, instead of involving the whole room in the conversation. His attention was focused on the tuning pegs, but when you didn’t answer right away he looked over at you, tossing his head slightly so his shoulder-length hair fell back from his grey-blue eyes.

You sighed. “It’s going.” His expression turned sympathetic, and, with a half-shrug, you elaborated, “Today was kinda shit, but now I’m here and ready to rock out with you guys.”

His eyes searched yours, trying to make sure you were really okay, and the kindness and concern you saw in them made you secretly weak. “Well, I’m always here for you, if you wanna talk about it later.”

“Thanks, Buck,” was all you trusted yourself to say, and, with a small smile, you busied yourself with pulling out your music while he finished tuning his instrument. After a few seconds you peeked back at him out of the corner of your eye. His hair had fallen back across his face, and what you could see of his expression was once again serious. His focus was back on his gleaming silver guitar with its single bright red star, and you let your gaze linger on his lips before dropping to admire the way his muscles flexed while tuning it. Had he been working out? You could have sworn they were even bigger than usual, and he’d never been scrawny to begin with.

Steve cleared his throat and you quickly looked up to where he was standing in the middle of the room. “Anytime you’re ready, Y/N.” Trying not to look guilty (did he catch you checking Bucky out? Or is he just annoyed that you were late?), you nodded and stepped over to the mic.

Closing your eyes, you took three deep breaths, releasing the stress of the day and the pressures of the world; leaving behind the Harried Barista, Stressed College Student, and Pining Best Friend parts of your personality in favor of fully embodying your Rock Goddess persona. Everything that happened before this moment, you let fall away; right now, there was only you and the music. When you opened your eyes again, you felt fierce and self-possessed, filled with a deadly calm and ready to sing your heart out.

Carol was already poised, hands on the keys, and Sam sat behind his drum set, both of them looking to Steve, who was holding his guitar and tapping his foot to set the rhythm for the first song. Bucky got into position and faced forward, eyes on you. This was always his favorite part, watching you come alive in front of the mic. He saw your eyes open and your whole posture change, and he smiled to himself. Now we can rock.

Steve started first, then Sam, Carol, and Bucky last of all. You guys knew this song forwards and backwards, so it was almost like a warm-up for you. You grabbed the mic and started out quiet, gradually getting louder as the song built. It was so familiar and so freeing that you were grinning by the time the song was over. A glance at the rest of your friends told you they felt the same way.

The five of you had been friends forever, and Future Captains grew naturally out of your shared love of music. It started out as a fun project, but soon you realized you sounded really good together. Eventually, you’d all gotten kind of serious about it, and everyone had come into their own: Steve (and sometimes Carol) provided additional vocals, Sam was a genius at publicity, and Bucky excelled at managing most of what went on behind the scenes. And of course, everyone had only gotten better and better at playing their respective instruments as time went on. You loved to sing -- but more than that, you adored performing as a band, all of you creating music collectively, because it felt like you were part of something bigger than you, like you were sharing a soul for a few minutes in time. Whenever you sang, you felt powerful and unstoppable, and life seemed to make sense again. So, you eagerly lost yourself in the music, surrendering all your worries and just letting the songs flow through you.

After a couple of hours, you’d gone through all your material, both the older songs and the newer stuff you were still fine-tuning. You chugged from your water bottle and beamed at your band mates, invigorated. Carol winked, Sam gave you two thumbs up, and Bucky’s grin seemed to mirror your own.

Steve was smiling too, and as he started wrapping up cords and putting away his red, white, and blue guitar, he praised, “Great job, guys, we sounded amazing. I think we’re going to blow everyone away at the gig next week.” More smiles all around before he continued, “I’m almost done with those new songs I’ve been working on; I should have them done by Thursday’s practice, so we’ll try them out then.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait!” Carol cooed in that dry tone that always sounded a little teasing. When Steve glanced over to see whether she was being sincere, she continued, “I mean it! You’re a really great songwriter, Steve. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Steve blushed and shrugged. “Well, thanks. But I’m not the only one! You guys are super talented too, and if any of you ever want to write a song, just let me know. I’m more than happy to share the songwriting responsibilities!” He looked around the room, holding everyone’s gaze for a few seconds, looking at Bucky last. Bucky studiously avoided eye contact, busying himself with putting his own guitar away.

The mic was the easiest item of all to put away, so after stowing it in its box you’d helped Sam dismantle his drum set and store the pieces safely in the corner. Addressing the room at large, you clapped your hands together and asked in a chipper tone, “Anybody up for a drink down at the bar? I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had a hell of a day.”

Sam was first to jump at the chance, and Carol was happy to join in. With an apologetic look, Steve explained that he had an early test tomorrow that he really needed to study for. Bucky hesitated just a second. “I’d love to, but I have an essay I need to finish.” Seeing your disappointment, he scrambled to add, “It’s almost done, maybe I can finish it up quick and meet you guys?” The three of you nodded, and he quickly decided that the smile you gave him was worth whatever grade he would end up getting on his half-baked paper.

He watched you, Carol, and Sam grab your jackets and head out the door, and when you turned back with a little wave, he gave you a grin that looked a lot more confident than he felt. The door shut, and he turned away, only to see Steve sitting at the kitchen table, regarding him knowingly.

Frowning, he growled, “What?”

“Nothing.” Steve’s voice was annoyingly patronizing.

With a sigh, Bucky turned towards his room, intending to ignore Steve’s smugness and hurry to finish his paper, but he’d gotten only a few steps before he heard him speak again.

“You should just tell her how you feel, Buck. I’m pretty sure she likes you, too. You guys would make a great couple.”

Whirling around, Bucky scowled at his roommate. “What are you talking about?”

Steve sat back in his chair and just gave him his patented look. Bucky jutted out his chin and crossed his arms, determined to be just as stubborn. Steve broke first, giving a short huff of laughter and shaking his head with a smile. “You’re my best friend, Buck, and so is she. It’s clear you have feelings for Y/N, and I wish you would just come clean, instead of pining over her and acting so weird and defensive. You’d be good for each other.”

Bucky looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve sighed. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. I’ve got my test to study for anyway, and I know you’ve got to finish your paper.”

  A little over a half hour later, Bucky sat at his computer, reading over his paper one last time. It definitely wasn’t his best work, but it was pretty solid. He’d probably get a C; anything higher than that would require significantly more time and effort, and he wasn’t willing to spend any more of either at this point. His mind was already thinking ahead to seeing you at the bar, maybe find out what was bothering you – or at the very least, get to cheer you up and spend some time together. He loved just being in your presence, making you laugh or smile. You were like the sun to him, you seemed to warm his very soul; and he couldn’t get enough.

He quickly emailed his essay to his professor, grabbed his stuff, and headed for the living room. Steve must have heard his footsteps, because he stuck his head out of the kitchen, probably about to nag him again. “Hey, Buck –“

Bucky cut him off, calling out loudly, “Sorry, Steve – gotta run!” as he rushed out the door into the cold.

Steve sighed, looking down at the books his roommate had left in the kitchen. The clutter was really distracting him (probably because he might have been eager for any distraction at all from his studying, which was turning out to be very boring indeed), and he had hoped Bucky would take his stuff back into his room. “I guess I’ll just do it myself, then,” he mumbled to himself, picking up the stack. A page fluttered out of the notebook on the bottom of the pile. “Oops,” Steve bent to retrieve it, and then pulled up short. He’d expected it to be chemistry notes, but this was laid out like a poem, and the unexpected formatting caught his attention.

His eyes skimmed over the stanzas. “Aw, Buck….” The wheels in his head started turning.

  As soon as he opened the door to the bar, Bucky could hear one of his favorite sounds in the world: your laughter. The place was about as busy as you’d expect for a Tuesday, and it wasn’t hard to spy the three of you in a booth, laughing uproariously about whatever story Sam had just finished telling. He stopped at the counter to order a beer before heading your way. Carol spied him and waved animatedly, as though he hadn’t already seen you guys; you snorted at her antics and took another sip of your drink before giving him a quick hug hello.

Sam’s story seemed to remind Carol of something similar that had happened to her once, and soon the four of you were in stitches, imagining her incredibly serious Lit professor going to lean back against the desk like he always did – only to find that the desk wasn’t exactly where he thought it was…and ending up on his ass on the ground instead.

“Everybody laughed, even Dr. Snyder – and then he swept right back into discussing Camus again, as though nothing had happened. You would not have been able to handle it, Y/N!”

You put your hands on your hips, trying to look menacing, or at least offended. “What’s that supposed to mean??”

Sam shoved your shoulder, shaking his head and laughing. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know what we’re talking about. You can never keep it together when something strikes you as funny – especially when everyone’s supposed to be super serious. Remember that assembly in high school where you couldn’t stop laughing and you ended up getting detention for it?”

You grimaced, facepalming when Bucky joined in the teasing, asking, “Which time??” The three of them laughed even harder, and you had to give it up and join them, even though you were blushing brightly. This is why you’d wanted to come to the bar, after all, to relax and just have some fun; and besides, you really couldn’t deny that they were absolutely right.

Once the laughter had died down, Carol stood up, announcing that she was going to request some songs on the Jukebox. Sam shouted after her, reminding her to put some Marvin Gaye in the rotation, and she rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him to signify that she was well aware of Sam Wilson’s Jukebox Rules. Satisfied, Sam sat back, taking a swig of beer and surveying the room.

“Hey, Buck, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that blonde in the corner hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you got here.”

Bucky, who’d been about to nudge you and try to initiate conversation, was startled by the sudden change in topic, and froze. “What?”

Sam leaned in conspiratorially, a smirk on his face. “It’s your lucky day, man; looks like she’s heading this way. And her friend is cute!”

You barely had time to react before the two girls reached the table, and Sam was already hailing them with that swagger that you usually made you laugh, but somehow tonight was just getting on your nerves.

The girls giggled, and you swore you saw the blonde bat her eyelashes at Bucky. Who does that??

You grabbed your drink and hopped out of the booth, trying to appear chill despite the sinking feeling in your stomach. “I think I need another one of these,” you mumbled, even though nobody had asked.

The blonde had placed her hand on Bucky’s bicep, but his eyes stayed on you as you marched up to the bar and shone that million-watt smile on the bartender. Of course the guy started flirting immediately, who could resist you? Clenching his jaw, Bucky turned his attention back to his admirer, who was asking, “You know, you guys look familiar, have we met before?”

Sam preened. “You might have seen our band play around town, we’re the Future Captains?”

The girls squealed. “That’s what it is! You guys rock!!”

The blonde squeezed Bucky’s arm. “You’re the bassist, right? You’re incredible,” she breathed.

He smiled widely despite himself. “Thanks for the compliment, doll.”

“We’re playing at the House of Blues next Wednesday night, you girls should come check us out.” Sam really excelled at promoting the band, which Bucky was secretly grateful for, since it meant he didn’t have to hold up much of a conversation, and could continue watching you surreptitiously. The bartender was being extra friendly, and Bucky was trying really hard not to crush his beer bottle in his fist.

The conversation around him carried on without him even noticing, and he almost didn’t even hear Sam addressing him directly.

“Bucky, you coming, man?”

He focused back in on Sam’s face, searching his memory to see if he could remember the last thing someone had said. “Uh…”

Sam rolled his eyes. “To the party? That these lovely ladies have invited us to?” He gave him a very pointed look, clearly trying to telegraph something with his eyes. Whatever he was trying to say, it was definitely lost on Bucky.

“Uh, no, thanks. I’m gonna hang with Y/N, that was the whole point of coming here, after all – what kind of friend would I be if I abandoned her?”

Sam paused. “You’re right, bro, maybe I should stay too?”

Glancing around at the ladies waiting impatiently, and Sam’s conflicted expression, he made a quick decision. “Nah, you go. It’s totally your scene, and I’m sure she’ll understand. I just don’t want to leave her completely alone.”

Sam shrugged, standing and putting an arm around each of his new fans. “You’re right. She’s a big girl, she’ll get it. And it’s not like she can’t handle herself.” With a quick wave in your direction, and one at Carol (who was still close to the jukebox, seemingly deep in conversation with an admirer of her own), he donned his jacket and left.

Meanwhile, you were flattered by the bartender’s attention, and while it wasn’t really doing much to raise your spirits, it did ensure that you got a nice, strong drink. Besides, he was cute enough, and you knew from experience how hard a job in the service industry could be. So you played along with his small talk; it’s not like you were in a rush to get back to your friends and watch some strange girl fawn all over Bucky. But the bar soon got a bit of a rush, and when you snuck a glance back at the table, you were surprised to discover Bucky sitting all by himself, with neither strange girls nor Sam anywhere in sight. Grabbing your drink and sliding the bartender a generous tip, you made your way to Bucky.

He greeted you with a big smile, sliding over to let you into the booth. “Where’d Sam go?” you asked, searching the room one last time as you sat down.

“He went to a party with his new friends,” Bucky offered.

“You didn’t want to go?”

Your surprise was written all over your face, and Bucky shrugged, chuckling. “And leave my best girl behind? No way!”

You took a sip of your drink to disguise how flustered you felt. You were his best girl? What did that even mean?? You settled for playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “Well, thanks, Buck. I definitely appreciate it.”

The grateful smile on your face made his heart explode, and he was instantly glad for every decision he’d made tonight. He impulsively put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in for a side hug.

You returned his hug with a happy sigh, and when he didn’t withdraw his arm after the hug was over, you snuggled in close to him. It almost felt like old times, before you had developed this pesky crush and were just as comfortable being affectionate with Bucky as with the rest of the group.

Speaking of, you spied Carol finally returning to the table, and grinned. “And where have you been?” you teased.

She rolled her eyes as she climbed back into the booth. “What can I say? Who am I to snub a fan?” The three of you laughed at her pretended cockiness, and you settled in to listen to her next hilarious story. Your heart felt lighter and happier than it had all day, and once again you gave thanks for having such awesome friends in your life.

  Your spirits were high by the time the next rehearsal rolled around. The rest of the week had been pretty low-key at work, and you hadn’t had any big assignments or tests in any of your classes, which was a relief. You even talked Carol into heading to practice early, hoping to hang out with your bandmates a little longer.

You stopped by work to grab a round of coffees (or hot chocolates!) for everyone, and then headed to Steve’s. When you & Carol got there, they’d left the door unlocked for you, and you walked in to find them watching some ridiculous old 90s movie they found playing on cable. They greeted both of you with smiles and hugs (and excitement about the drinks!), and invited you to join them. After only the slightest hesitation, you opted to sit on the sofa next to Bucky, while Carol sank into one of the big plushy chairs facing the TV. Bucky grinned at you as you sat down, and you couldn’t help but notice he looked even better than usual today, in a blue shirt that really brought out the color of his eyes. He stretched his arm across the back of the couch, inviting you to snuggle up close to him as always, and you couldn’t resist doing so. He was so warm and safe, which was quite a welcome situation to be in after walking in the snow. So you curled up into his side and took a fortifying sip of your cocoa, letting yourself be warmed both inside and out.

The movie was over by the time Sam arrived, and the four of you had just been chatting about life, work, school, and upcoming gigs. Carol was draped sideways over the arms of the comfy chair, her hair hanging over one side and her legs dangling over the other; Steve sat on the floor with his back against the couch, fiddling with an old Rubik’s cube he’d found under the coffee table.

As Sam grabbed himself something to drink from the fridge, Steve checked the clock and realized it was time to get rehearsal started. Standing in front of you all still in the TV room, he adopted the tone you all recognized as Business Steve.

“Okay guys, I finished the songs I was working on, you ready to hear them?”

You all whooped in response, enthusiastic as ever to hear what Steve came up with. He was great with lyrics, but it was really his melodies and arrangements that always blew you away, personally. He had a real talent for that sort of thing, and you loved to encourage him.

Steve dragged over a music stand and his acoustic guitar, sitting down in the comfy chair that Carol had vacated to join you on the couch. Sam plopped himself into the other comfy chair, still nursing his drink. Steve played a few chords, and just as you thought he was about to sing, he stopped and coughed.

“Uh, Buck, you think you could help me with this?”

Bucky looked like he’d been caught passing notes in class. “Huh?”

“Wanna come up here and sing this for me?”

“Why?” Bucky said, blankly. You didn’t blame him for being confused; Steve usually debuted new songs by singing them himself, and this was the first time he’d ever asked someone else to do it instead.

“Because my asthma has been acting up, and I don’t think I can do it today.” Steve sounded like he was trying very hard to be patient, and you fought to keep yourself from snickering at how odd he was acting.

Bucky stood up, looking concerned. “Oh shit, man, I’m sorry. I hadn’t even noticed. Have you been wheezing or anything? Should we make a doctor’s appointment?”

Steve’s face was starting to turn red, and you grabbed onto Carol’s arm, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact with her, knowing it would make you crack up. She put her hand over yours and gave a sympathetic squeeze as Steve continued in a slightly strained voice. “I think I’ll be okay, Buck, but I just don’t want to exacerbate it by singing today. Can you just please come sing for me instead?”

Bucky obediently got up and crossed the room, taking the pages Steve handed him and looking them over. You were so busy struggling to control the laughter that was threatening to burst out of you, you didn’t even notice how Bucky suddenly got really still and tense. His eyes hardened, and darted over suspiciously to Steve, who was diligently focused on his guitar, apparently tuning it even though he’d been playing it just fine minutes before.

“What is this?” Bucky asked in a steely tone, very quietly so that only Steve could hear.

“It’s our new song,” Steve announced brightly to the room in general. “You ready to start, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed, glancing quickly at everyone, his eyes lingering just a second longer on you before going back to the music in his hands. There really was no way out of this, he had to just plow through and hope he made it to the other side. “Sure.” His voice was rough, and he cleared his throat and took a drink of water.

Steve smiled a wide, too-innocent smile, and started strumming again. After a few moments, Bucky began to sing.

I know every little thing about you And you know all about me too But not everything, I have a secret How have you not noticed yet?

You had always loved Bucky’s voice, gravelly and rich. But for whatever reason, he usually preferred to leave the vocal parts to Steve, so you didn’t get to hear him sing as often as you’d liked. Your earlier amusement already forgotten, you smiled, letting his warm voice wash over you while you listened to the lyrics and tried to imagine yourself singing this song in the future.

We've known each other since we were small Never dreamed that I would fall But every day I have to pretend Because you’re also my best friend

His voice, tremulous at first, had grown stronger as the song continued, but on this last line it cracked just a little. Then the rhythm changed, and it was clear the chorus was approaching.

You shine like the sun and I'm only a shadow The center of my world but you'll never know You're everything I've ever wanted I'm haunted

The song was beautiful, but, more than that, the lines were breaking your heart. They seemed to exactly describe how you felt about Bucky. But, how did Steve know? Was this some kind of joke? Had he figured out how you felt and was outing you to Bucky? Even as these panicked thoughts occurred to you, your rational mind had to point out Steve would never be that cruel. But as the verses started up again, you sat up a little straighter, trying to pay closer attention to what was really going on here.

When we're together, I have to hide Got to keep it all inside But deep within I'm falling apart Because I’m already losing my heart

The emotion in Bucky’s voice was raw, and you found yourself incredibly moved. And in that moment, your heart seemed to stop. Maybe this song wasn’t from your point of view at all. But did you dare to hope?

I don't know what to say So I hold my tongue another day What if you don't feel the same? I don't want anything to change

You shine like the sun and I'm only a shadow The center of my world but you'll never know You're everything I've ever wanted I'm haunted

The notes slowed down and time seemed to stretch out with them, as he sang the final coda.

I'd give everything just to have you be mine Worship you all of the time But I'm so afraid to cross that line

As the song ended and the last chords died out, a silence hung in the room, like the world was holding its breath. Your eyes were threatening to overflow with tears, but you didn’t move. Bucky stood still, not looking up; afraid to see your reaction. He felt like his heart had been laid bare, and he was terrified to see what came next.

You looked back and forth between him and Steve, desperately trying to figure out if what you hoped was happening was actually true. When you caught Steve’s eye, he was already looking directly at you. He raised a brow and ever so slightly tipped his head, nodding towards Bucky.

You felt frozen; you didn’t know what to do. Next to you, Carol cleared her throat, and suddenly you remembered there were other people in the room.

“Great song, I love it!” she crowed, her voice startlingly loud after such an extended quiet. “Um, Sam, I just remembered I have something I wanna show you. In the kitchen.” She practically leapt off the couch, and Sam followed her lead immediately.

Steve stood up too, mumbling something about having to wash some dishes, and scooted out of the room on their tail. You gave an amused exhalation at their lack of subtlety, but for the first time in your life the humor was tempered by a situation that needed your more immediate attention.

Bucky had yet to move from where he stood, though he was now staring after Steve with a somewhat incredulous look on his face. You took a deep breath and found your voice, though your heart was in your throat.

“Bucky?”

You were so quiet that you wondered if he’d even be able to hear, but he turned toward you, fingers fiddling with the music sheets. He kept his eyes downcast, still avoiding eye contact. “Y/N…”

You waited to see what he was going to say, but when he trailed off, you decided to speak again. “That song…that was amazing.”

The emotion in your voice was what tugged his eyes up to meet yours. “Yeah?” The ghost of a smile appeared around his lips, but his gaze was hopeful.

You smiled softly, taking a few steps closer to him. “Yeah.”

He flushed, glancing down at the page again. “Steve –“

You stopped abruptly, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “Steve?” You questioned, in a disbelieving tone, though your eyes twinkled with amusement. “Is that who I should be talking to right now?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “He – he wrote the music, but…no, the words are mine.” He searched your face hesitantly, and he slowly crossed the last few steps between you.

You stared into his eyes for a few moments, feeling like you might drown in them. Finally, in a voice that was barely a whisper, “And?” When his eyebrows quirked in slight confusion, you added, “Did you mean it?”

At this, he smiled broadly, and his response was soft. “Every word.”

He carefully placed a hand on your hip, his gaze questioning. He was so close to you now, and you were on the precipice of everything you’d been dreaming of. Tossing the final vestiges of your caution to the wind, you wove your hand into his hair, pulling him the last few inches towards you, answering him with a kiss.

He responded eagerly, bringing his other hand up to gently cup your face. His lips were soft and tender, his kiss urgent and worshipful. He kissed you like you were the answer to everything he’d ever searched for, and for you it felt like the whole world clicked perfectly into place.

When you finally broke the kiss, it was with a happy sigh. Bucky affectionately nuzzled your nose with his own before resting his forehead gently against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.” The way he was looking at you was making your heart soar like a balloon.

You couldn’t help but smile giddily. “Me too.”

Sam’s voice from the kitchen broke through your shared reverie. “You lovebirds done yet? We doing any actual practicing today or what?”

You and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

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[littlelovelymemes]

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[rosemarygrayson]

Home is in Her Arms

He was going to kill her.

That's what he'd said he brought her into his bunker for; to use her as something to sate his blood lust.  Even as he explained himself and the violent cravings brought on by his werewolf blood, he couldn't help but look like going through with this was the very last thing he wanted to do.  Rosie sat next to him on the floor, listening quietly and coming sadly to grips with the reality of the situation.  These last few days had been a mental and emotional roller coaster.  Meeting Vince in the pool hall and going home with him had been wonderful.  Having had her feet cut, being forced to wet herself and then being raped against the radiator still had her body throbbing in protest.  The wounds from removing the handcuffs, the bruise from where he'd punched her in the face, the knife wounds from fighting Farz.  A myriad of damage he'd left was still visible on her body.  Still, in between all of that there had been much nicer moments, and talking with him now she got the impression he'd rather not be so unstoppably furious and dangerous.  If she was going to die anyway, she just couldn't justify doing so with a halfhearted grudge.  Truth be told, it was hard for her to be angry at someone when she felt bad for them.

"It's okay, Vince.  I forgive you."  And she meant it too.  He hadn't looked happy to hear it, which honestly made sense.  It would be easier to kill someone that hated his guts.  As he tried to leave, she followed after him, not wanting to leave him alone or be alone.  He lamented his inability to protect those close to him and she felt a pang of guilt ring loudly in her heart.  He was talking about Farz, clearly, who must have been pretty important to him.  She thought for a moment to point out that Farz had clearly wanted to kill her out of jealously and had chosen to put his life on the line willingly.  She said no such thing, however, as that wasn't at all what he needed to hear.  When she reached out to touch him he nearly backhanded her in response.  To scare her away?  To make her hate him?  At this point?  

She didn't flinch.

He cupped her cheek; looking like he was going to break at any second.  She leaned into his touch, covering his hand with hers.  He got onto his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist and she felt nothing but gentle affection as he buried his face into her stomach.  With how roughly he'd been handling her so far...A touch like this was almost overwhelmingly sweet.  She played lightly with his hair, enjoying the way his ears twitched when she ran her fingers over them.

"Stop..."  She could feel a bit of wetness against the fabric of her shirt and though she couldn't see his face she could tell that he was crying.  "Stop being nice to me.  I don't deserve it."  With a soft huff she gently pushed him away from her just enough so that she could get on her knees as well.  She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder.  God, he was so warm...

"You do.  I'm not the one that's being broken here.  You've been through a lot, Vince."  She nuzzled her face against him as he pulled her carefully into his arms.  Though he was being careful to not hurt her, she didn't miss how firm his hold was.  As if the second he let go she would be gone forever.  "You don't have to be so hard on yourself."  The words 'let me be a shoulder to lean on' died on her lips, since it would be offering him a promise she couldn't exactly keep if she was dead.  She kissed his cheek as he muttered a response to her words.  He pulled away a bit to look down at her.  She smiled at him and met him halfway for a kiss.  It would have been a bittersweet way to die, honestly, looking up at his serene expression just before everything went to hell.  She'd never get to know exactly how being torn apart would feel like, as the next several seconds of her life included reality catching up to Vince all at once.  

He jumped up, worried about the time and her heart began to race as he made short work of cleaning out his gun cabinet by tossing all of the racks onto the floor.  He offered no explanation to her as he grabbed her roughly and shoved her into the cabinet.  The door slammed with a loud bang as she wavered on her feet a bit.  Catching her breath, she slipped her fingers through the grate and asked him what was going on.  He was saving her, he said, and she felt for a moment like she could cry from happiness.  She watched as his skin began to grow dark fur and his nails grew into deadly looking claws.  His words came out as growls.

"You're the only one...You're the only one worth saving.  I love you."  She beamed at him, eyes filling with tears as she reached out to touch his hand.  "BACK UP!"  He ordered, banging his hands against the grate.  She ignored him, wanting to touch him and she paid for it when he scratched her arm on instinct.  Lesson learned, she backed up to the edge of the cabinet and watched the rest of his transformation.

---

She was stuck in that cabinet for hours.  Vince tried more than once to get to her, howling in rage when he was unable to break into her shelter.  The place on her arm where he'd scratched her was starting to burn.  It felt like uncomfortably hot and thick liquid was forcing it's way from the scratch into every nook and cranny of her body.  

”! Ah!”  It wrapped itself around her bones, seeping deep inside until it became one with them.  It warmed her organs.  It mixed dominantly with her blood and filled her mind with a vertigo the likes of which she'd never experienced before.  She collapsed to the floor of the cabinet and panted heavily; sweat soaking into her shirt.  She was running a fever so high a doctor would consider her at death's door.

And with that terrifying thought, Rosemary Grayson promptly passed away.

---

When she woke up she was standing calve deep in a shallow white river.  Aside from the gentle pull and push of the water, there was nothing.  No shore, no visible edge.  Barely any discernible sound or smell.  The fever had stopped.  The pain in her body had stopped too.  As she wandered around the endless river, she took solace in the absolute nothing going on around her.  She felt like she was meditating, like there was nothing here but her peace of mind.  Internally, she could just about feel the river itself encouraging her to relax and lie down on its surface.  Honestly?  It sounded like a wonderful idea.  Just drifting on and on, letting the waves take her wherever they pleased.  As she was about to lie down, she felt a strange sensation around her calves.  Looking down, she shrieked when she saw the water around her start bubbling and boiling rapidly.  The water burned her skin as she stood there.  She tried to move away but something grabbed her ankles and held her firmly in place.  Clawed hands surfaced from the water; clawing and scratching their way up her body until they found purchase around her throat, her shoulders, her wrists, and her waist.  They forced her down onto her knees and then backward, back under the surface of the water despite her struggles.  For a moment, she thought she saw a very confused looking man with wings hovering above her as she drowned.

---

She woke up with an audible gasp sometime before sunrise.  Vincent lie in a heap on the floor, panting and exhausted from his own fury.  Rosie rested her head against the wall of the cabinet and caught her breath.  Jesus...What an intense dream...

When Vince was back to normal, he let her out of the cabinet and helped her onto her feet.  They walked out of the bunker hand in hand, all the while Rosie wondered about his surprised reaction to finding out he'd scratched her.  Was she...?  Was she going to turn into a wolf like him?  He let her use the shower first and ordered food for them to munch on in lieu of having something more substantial in his fridge at the moment.  After eating they passed out in his bed.  Around one or so she gently pointed out that she should most definitely go to the hospital to be looked over and one motorcycle ride later, he'd dropped her off.  Riding back home, Vincent had a lot to think about.

---

Vince sat down on his couch and mulled over the last few days.  Farz was gone.  No matter what Rosie said there was no way he couldn't blame himself for what had gone down in the bunker.  Though he didn't really want to admit it, he was honestly already starting to wonder if it was a mistake letting her talk him into not coming into the hospital with her.  She'd been worried about one of the nurses taking a look at him and assuming (correctly) that he was the cause of her damage.  She didn't want him to get in trouble, she'd said...And so here he sat and waited.  A cruel thought nagged at him about how now that she was away from him she was more than likely going to run off, far out of the city where he couldn't hurt her again.  As the hours passed, Vince fell into a restless sleep, waking up in the later afternoon.  He fished for his phone in his pocket and noted a distinct lack of any messages.  

Veni was likely to check on him in a day or two, he'd see Lawrence at work, and Farz was dead.

What about Rosie though?  She had his number, she'd asked for it before they headed out.  He absolutely hated getting himself worked up.  With no one around to snap him out of his thoughts, however, what could he do BUT overthink things?  In the end he decided to go to the gym and work out and ideally burn off the residual energy. 

#vinceverse #home is in her arms #ic #wishfuldecay #phew #okay so obvs they aren't gunna meet up at the end of your post either which is fine cause oooooo the establishing we gotta do #lol

[marcosoropoet]

Pavlovian Tingle-Railway [Station Blackout] ~ (or express razor eye out Mr. Tingle)

1. Kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake basement forge tight street corner deal forced ink steel night deal danger: Nawnawnawman. mah bruh? ten dollahs on a hundid?! Heh, I knows you's tryin tah pop it right by keeping it tight homie but this muthahfuckin-assed bullshit yo ...The Fuck Outta Here dawg thas some sorry assed real bullshit you tryin' tah pull homie home re-union haze of teenage (((flashback glitch))) in his head left a hilarious grease spot on the blackboard & chemical vandals sizzling in his brain. the green dusty blackboard in a delicately crystalline formulaic tableau of wood and numbers the vicissitudes of black snow the color of darkened ash has hushed all the talk, as he walks in tonight... menacing heights of fire escape drills, getting a dart in the back slo-mo, someone had poured soda into the ketchup bottle and now small torrents of bubbling red oozes & blooms out over the entire table ahhh! the other man makes slight adjustments to his demeanor to be less 'street' and more 'invited' why it's his reunion. flinch. ruination anguish]...dark train car rumbling out of a long dank tunnel why'd I think to see those people (((again))) — all the dark mirrors burn each morning with the sun coming up got the snake eye fingernail pie & the sway all day boo" swooning dust and pitter-patter rain falling on the wood and concrete burst open telephone call in a very clean & empty conference room all cool grey, and smoked glass ultra post-modern a tart aroma permeated throughout the heated glass sun, spun glass sun, glass skin, black tea, your loose spacetime textile, hunched machinations launched the sniper river: filled with humid headrush & slowed down lunge... bell strikes upon time textile carousal corral I'll crack tea soon, planet zone houseout your concrete vibrations played earth, I joke but I don't play hot black grit is dense milky frozen afterflow stillness flight from disorientation crush inside hothouse of humid bright light vivid green curling leaves, frozen stillness of isolated thought timestamp molecules pierce loose clean shimmers sheerly, behind a crystal sky lattice tethering, examine gravel and glass stars, vivid flowers spying are bright: sand pebbles, sun, glimmers sheerly, behind the headlong tangible surfaces, singing head, the pristine universe: filled with air, swooning belts of galaxies, silence of people spin roar and black grit is white black snow of ash razor spin cycle of blood...eyes...ears...horror. between brass skin, into an unspeaking, unexpected whole city falling, hears what time. namedrop sibelius, but no good. I had gone over to piss on a clean slab. city heavy the day fragmented air, swooning body between my fingers, from rooves near edges elbowing real business of people television sidewalk morning show trauma. 2. uncanny sharp terror reflection of purple surfaces, doing my heavy whole city hears white noise and through a candlelit's merriment chili & hot black onyx coffee deems me grass sun, glass stars, glass skin, blank memory shimmers in hems, a blown out window, gusts of icy air, was I walking in circles that day? Yes. (outtake 15: "you wanna do the purple surface deflection again, or the blank noise, or the tinsel applause rose confetti trick...) suspicious mirrors coalition carry long fingers of light, floodlight: store window glass stars, glass sun, glass sunlit coppery direction, spacetimes. sand. cut granules. increments of ideals. my song. black tea, your loose diamond-snake in hemisphere air expanded the sense of screams of the bitten who had become crazed and dethroned. Off with him. OFF. smoothing body dry at the woods' lake edge. the sense of elbowing heavy thunderstore window glass sunlit coppery direction, spacetime textile, caricature. it is what time textile, hunched...( ). every roof dots the night. bells of mirrors repeating swirling sense-blur of heady fruity honeysuckle, hot blue flowers were to go to headlong silvergold touch flame of snooty persona non grata, fractal gravity tethering my fingers, glassy black tea I had gone over the eyes like a million lilacs, cut citrus yellow hot nailgun hems gather the whole, bunched-up coarse fabric and brusquely sew through the thick tough cloth poke & bleed hole into thumb... cut citrus bitter teeth, together what white noise time. in the world...vampires go somewhere else during that time as they begin to sting and burn hazy coalition of suspicious two-way mirrors, spacetimes switched in cool cyberpunk density of mechanical and grey cliffs superimposed "mr. chili & hot-thought focus reflect purple surfaces, sun, glass stare tangy sea-spray hits the spot dothole city head, the shirt is absolutely suspicious mirror of television carousal." beautiful unspeaking, who in deep solitude, and the bells of home over the sepia photographs beneath smoked glass, drank coffee. outtake 7: naw first mix the drums. cymbals clash & smoke swirls around a black infinity screen...I like my vehicle heh-heh porque es muy correcto cógelo compound of the informal second-person singular radio static monstrous popping loops of short waves can we go back & add more drums on top straight away?fucking clowns" owning eyes, the vastest untormented rain-soaked newspaper liesure headed back to the planet of purple dunes and long drenched weeks of night and vertical waves of vibrant light-color mister, you gotta see it for yourself oh so you speak this. good. the space of a thought & sunless rose hanging where a parking universal zip code of your paw-paw fishing for debris in Jupiter flash over glitter green fishnets; these shots were hidden and codenamed: "ZZ Legs" 3. outtake 1: band tuning up dialogue heard (cackling raunch) cracking up unstoppably...right, anybody know where the green guitar went?bloody sold it?he fuckin crazy!!! you could see the blood rising in his neck and temple veins alert today (((you?))) with identity overhead cranking tarantula of metal & ice rising dynamic inversion, tangible fumes, kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake scale basement killer chiller vein driller no filler no filter radioactive reiteration seeker out there basement cracked, hatchet wielder crack good time dark whip in good time, at blood manor of (((thinking)))... detached arid solipsism generates the worst cosmopolitan anecdotes dismantled donned unwashed plenitude killer killer fecund reverts to gradients dismantling each mustard-colored enclosure pocket, rumblings of what smiles and creaks tantalizing razor into the sunlights & sunlight & sunlight's razor-sharp cut where a thousand days ran in dark mirrors bursting through torrents of fruity bodywash exploding from the old tv. did time have something to do with playing that scene in reverse? rumblings of abrasive verbal angst. this could change nothing in the memory of the differing, somewhat superimposed seasons, and regions of the psyche's endless topography and subtle extras. Ever see big mountain stones. Where? With identity garbed, dispersed, in exposed retinas with identity hours away, abrasive sandspray in the eyes and kick to the gut before hyper speed chaotic scene/car chase/ fruitstands decimated confetti storm in jewel tone bust ))). alert to run in happy blinding onto one that is there, not in part. with a fresh braid from cracked roses hung up in snow and smoke, *** overhead cranking tarantula of metal & ice rising dynamic inversion, tangible fumes, kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake basement cracked hatchet wielder in good time, at blood manor of (((thinking)))... detached arid solipsism generates the worst cosmopolitan anecdotes dismantled donned unwashed plenitude killer killer fecund reverts to gradients dismantling each mustard-colored enclosure, forge forced reunion flinch ruination anguish]...dark train car all dark mirror burn from mama each morning, better the misgivings of blue trees, into gas stupid disowned eyes, the vastest spit of untormented strung down stupified, feeling rain-soaked the space of a thought & sunless rose sparkling unguent, parking universal zip codes of your paw-paw fishing tongue stump hush lagoon fireflies — alert today (((you?))) with identity tusk doodle ember light rumblings of what smiles and creaks tantalizing onto matter of abrasive window with you, and ran in the sunlit heavily garbed, dispersed out his own mythic eyes winters rooftops, had time to run in exposed retinas' splendor clasp, smashed out eyes & all windows, the sunless rooftops smashed, fingers rose from crack liquid officers roses embellishing a gold mask *** fishing for a window and ran in the Laundromat an eerie confessional ambient track beneath the while of detergent pods reversal zip codes of december's scratch down loose from earth golden rock sunless rooftops, headless rooftops, had time to turn today unpeeling stretched on, fingers bursting unceasing, better off euphoria than rainy days yet I have been euphoric on rainy days, the light refracted on rainy city nights is dazzling, optic. matter of what smiles and stretched a window with you, and winters rose hanging purple a tapestry fractal repetition hidden inside everything heavy stones, old earth blood-purple heavy stolen hungry in a smashed autographed rapid metal scrape turning signals sent of empire time dilation, time-fabric tug cushioned by thick striations of black matter slathered embellished disruption in quantum fixtures of intelligent light tableau vivant in constant great surprise hey somebody over there standing on the corner half-hidden ...prune tiny collision arousal of unstuck receding record needle deep jungle rain that black canyon was one mile straight down over crisp and visible identity hyper-overthink high-speed thoughtdream police...ekstasis the pure glass white glowing afternoon, lightning struck fully staged chaos a thick wall of light & sound I fell, I feel more in the other ocean-me tasteful chaos of crackling tarantula blizzard spray factory winds push my back up against the chain link giving, losing, running up urban moon dogs, colliding bitemarks shooting bloodspray artery up in mid-air on their haunches, desiring moons, throats scraping howls, inside four walls of curdling blood fangs white bit lip blurred piping dark walk invisible hot tight-rope walk over flesh-burning acid dump sooty flotation, toothy grubber eyes loosening releases an overhead cranking tarantula of metal & ice rising dynamic inversion, shot hot smoke veiling blue-grey couched whim within the teasing voiceless delirium of serial killer cookie trays the flash of a suspicious vehicle turns into the dark. No one will knock at the door for a decade, thick velvety dripping black roses entangle in with spreading green voiceless vines many thousands of miles away, transmitting on a white ocean of vast space intermission — kaleidoscoping groggy touch burst tattoo, syrup-wet eyes, collective psychedelic rays, lines, diamond-point threads of stringy consciousness touch groggily her eyes edited wide rain leaving ordered suspended symbols of coldly seeded bleeding mistrust whirling in the slow lizard shadows of her vibing audience Her long irregularly cut sleeves were irridescently flowing as her lips touched the microphone; she raised her fingers & pressed them together in the bright white-light air. . That may eclipse & dilate, but won't brown-out. That may eclipse & dilate, but won't brown-out. That I have known. There are no cracks in and though a very persistent illusion... reality that never blinks in blurred eras & sweaty flashback of ZFG. I clunkily yanked keeping the sociopath. Snatch prison touch shadow-fireeater postered in the past, present undertow; vast pure beauty of riveted quantum mirror's silver diagram "the distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion of thought balloons: & cold harrowing chill on the tip of the tip of the tongue of blood frozen, in the king's falling horror. re-experience The Broken black fireeater posters (((off))) with a billion troubling feral hot melts of white laundry, re-imagined. In/out, tongue. Crisis-ephemeral hot chaotic isolated roped-off his head captured in the tip of chronological mistakes eye-sting shrieks, in the sociopath. Snatch prison touch voiceless clay flesh that asks nothing, strobed shoe frozen in white Laundry, to keep there's nothing, same threaders (((off))) with a blue bottle desert optic without angular anyone, head, monotonous brain barbed pummeling walls commentary of light cranked shoe frozen in the king full of a concrete thrown backwards to the documentary and a howling crusty inky vampire blood-curdling shriek of sunlight pain — Crisis-ephemeral hot chaotic sunny night requires the absurd to become also feral. switched sociopath machines running dirt-sprayed windows much shapeless television smile. Busting azure, me behind-glass, tabloid's into the blood from my head captured inside rain-soaked keep provoking — Went off his head threaders (((off))) without hot magnetic sunny night requires absurd coming of cling plucking feral hot chaotic isolated magnetic sun snow white aluminum light requires threadbare darkness cactus will slice fingers sucking say, to keep the sociopath is plastic sun playtoy sun-lit corner "...that ain't no drug-dog man, that dog can't smell shit!" 4. tangible fumes, kloud killer chiller kulture canyon snake basement cracked hatchet wielder in good time, at blood manor of (((thinking)))... detached arid solipsism generates the worst cosmopolitan anecdotes dismantled donned unwashed plenitude killer killer fecund reverts to gradients dismantling each mustard-colored enclosure, forge forced reunion flinch ruination anguish]...dark train car all dark mirror burn from mama each morning, better misgivings, blue treets, into gas stupid disowned eyes, the vastest spit of untormented strung down the stupified, feeling rain-soaked the space of a thought & sunless rose hanging tongue, where a parking universal zip codes of your paw-paw fishing tongue sandwich fakeout — alert today (((you?))) with identity tusk ember lightflash holo. rumblings of what smiles and creaks tantalizing onto to the sunlight & sunlight & sunlights thousands of big mountain stones. Where? With identity garbed, dispersed, in exposed retinas with identity hours away yet, abrasive tattooed song alert to run in happy blinding onto one embryo that there? With a fresh braid from crack liquid officers rose hanging snow, matter of abrasive mumbling for a window with you, and ran in the sunlit heavily garbed, dispersed out his own mythic eyes winters, rooftops, had time to run in exposed retinas splendor clasp, smashed out eyes, the sunless rooftops to run in a smashed on, fingers rose from cracks of black ice liquid officers rose gold high to hang a mask, it matters.rooftops today. untormented & stuck turning today (((you?))) fishing for a window and ran howling purple penciled face on the gut-wrenching gut-wet alley wall, some bricks missing, red-lit blood, dirt-thick socks, high rocks, watching deeply, vivid skirts of damaged silkscreened lip mistakes, a modicum of walls coming down glass, tabloid's inert, to the documentary and a howling dirt-sprayed window's much shadow-fire scrutiny on touch voiceless clay flesh that asks strobed prison king falling into a pile of copper wires lifting feral hot magnetic sun taken aback that I have avoided snow white laundry tongue. And taking the kingly cup tossed it into the teeming hot fire licks of smoke. ~ Marcos Oro

#Pavlovian Tingle-Railway [Station Blackout] ~ (or express razor eye out Mr. Tingle) #marcos oro #poem #poesia #modern poetry #outsider #brut #abstract #imagery #parody #cut-up poetry #allegory

[tellywoodtrash]

ishqbaaz 30.06.17 lb

plain text version here. 

oh omki, your hair. conditioner is a thing. please, use it. 😐😐😐

rudra, what do you mean “samajh nahi aa raha ki shivaay bhaiyya ko kya ho gaya hai?” you know perfectly well. heart attack waale din toh bade dialogue maar raha tha doctor aur pinky ke saamne. 😒😒😒

oh, three months, one heart attack and multiple half-assed suicide attempts later, om is like “hmmmm maybe we shouldn’t have listened to anika’s stupidass fucking plan???? maaaybe, perhaps, shaaayad it was a mistake? 🤔🤔🤔”

i swear to god, stupidity is THE MOST dominant oberoi trait. mann toh karr raha hai in dono ke sarrrr patak doon. 😠😠😠

lmaoooooooo omRu’s bitch faces at pinky’s demands. 😆😆😆

daaaaaaamn, omki ka paara chad raha hai. this gonna be goooooooood. 😊😊😊

“humein jhoot bolna nahi aata, aur agar sach kahenge, toh badtameez kehlaayenge.” 

DIAAAAAAAAALOGUE! WAAAAH, MERE SHERRRR! WAAAAAAAAAH! 🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

aaj omRu ka turn nikla hai, to fuck pinky uppppp. lovingggggg it. go for it boys! KILL HER! 😈😈😈

“shivaay toh aapka beta ban gaya, lekin aap shivaay ki maa nahi ban payi. woh kehte hai, janam dene waale se paalne wala bada hota hai, lekin aapne toh woh bhi galat saabit kar liya.” 

DAMNNNNNNNNNNNN OMKARA, YOU ARE FUCKIN’ UNSTOPPABLE TODAY. 😧😧😧😧

KHULE BAAL, AANKHON MEIN RIGHTEOUS ANGER - MERAAAAAAA PURAANA OMKARAAAAAA WAAPASSS AAA GAYA! WOH AAAA GAYAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!  MAIN JAANTI THI WOH EK NA EK DIN LAUT AAYEGA! MERI BARSON KI TAPASYA USSE WAAPAS LE AAYI HAI!!!!!!! 😫😫😫😫😫😫

feeling bit like rakhee in karan arjun right now. 😌😌😌

“har insaan ki zindagi mein maa ki jagah alag hoti hai aur biwi ki jagah alag.” 

lo. rudra ko bhi yeh baat pata hai. now there’s no excuse. 😕😕😕

“aapko jo karna tha, aapne kar liya choti maa, BAS! AB JO KARNA HAI WOH HUM KARENGE CHOTI MAA, AUR AAPKO BEECH MEIN AANE KI ZAROORAT NAHI HAI. HUM APNE BHAI KO BIKHARNE NAHI DENGE.”

“aaj tak shivaay om aur ru ko sambhaalte aaya hai. lekin ab, om aur ru shivaay ko sambhaalenge. hum apne bhai ko waapas laayenge.”

MIC DROP. OMRU OUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!! 😎😎😎

pfffffffffttt great. was on an all-time high from that scene and saw ragini, and instantly, my buzz has been killed. 😒😒😒

lmaoooooooo, popatttttttt. 😂😂😂

ok, i have a feeling additi has reasonably good comic timing. wish they’d use that more. 😕😕😕

also, is this why shivaay’s opting to spend the night in jail tonight? so he has a reasonable excuse to not hang with ragini? 🤔🤔🤔

#introvertIssues #relatable 

girllllllllll, maybe this time, TURN AROUND FIRST? 😐😐😐

lmaoooooooo, can the staff stop being so condescending to poor ragini? 😂😂😂

ok can’t deny i’m loling a little right now at her passive aggressive hammy speech. 😆😆😆

i really hope this is the direction they decide to take her character. i’d love a comic touch to ragini’s villainous side, instead of just INTENSE UNBLINKING PSYCHO. it’s just more entertaining to watch. 😇😇😇

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKK IS THIS SHIRT ANIKA??? MATLAB, I GET YOU’RE SAD AND ALL, BUT GIRL. COME ON. 😟😟😟

awww, baby. no cry. he didn’t mean it. jalta hai tumse, bas. he doesn’t look halfffff as fabulous post-breakup as you do. 😪😪😪

tum? kaun tum? OMRU? SAMAR? ADVAY?!?!?! WHO???? 😧😧😧

lo, pooori family colour coordination mein khadi hai shivaay ke swaagat mein. 😐😐😐

damn, hawaalat ki ek raat se shivaay’s calmed down by 400%, and gives no fucks about khaandaan ka naam. 😗😗😗

bloody hell, since episode 1 i’ve been screaming @ TPTB to put his crazy ass in jail. ladka kab ka sudhar gaya hota. 🙄🙄🙄

pft... as if by staying in jail you “solved” that problem. all you did was stay up all night on the super-uncomfortable floor, overthinking about it. you stupid boy. 😑😑😑

chandiniiii? chameli? (i can never remember the name of her chappal. just know it’s something with CH...) 🤔🤔🤔

oh ho shivaay, chappal yahaan hai, toh zaahir si baat hai ki chappal pehehnne waali bhi yahin kahin hogi. 🙄🙄🙄

WAZZZZZZZZZZZZA QUEEEEEEEEEEN! 😍😍😍

dayuuuuumm, that super subtle way he checked her out from bottom to top though. sex eyes 100%. keep it in your pants, billu! 😏😏😏

chandini! i was right! 😊😊😊

also lol, what a set-up, girl! like you came into the house, had a tete-a-tete with the family, and left your chappal there for shivaay to find, and thus make an entry to impress him? matlab, waaah. you’ve become justttttt as extra as patidev. 😂😂😂

tumhaaara gharrrr, mera gharrr, what difference does it maaaake??? youuu bothhh belong to each other, toh in cheezon ke baare mein behas kyun karna? just go into YOUR (collective) bedroom and bang. 😚😚😚

his face, man. his faaaaaaace. i got an ask about this, so i’ll go into greater detail there. 🙂🙂🙂

homegirl has honeddddd her “push shivaay’s buttons” skillz to the max over last three months. 😎😎😎

god this scene has me sitting here like: 

OMG IT’S AN ANIRU COLLABORATION. BESTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. 😅😅😅

i am lovingggggggg her calm and composed, sultry deep voice. 😍😍😍

she’s gotta know that it drives patidev craaaazy for her, and is using it on purpose. 😏😏😏

... how did she BUY oberoi mansion if it wasn’t up for sale???? 🤔🤔🤔

lovinggggggg pinky’s outrage. 😈😈😈

anika’s high and mighty manner has shivaay so turned on, it’s not even funny. uska bas chale, he’d have his way with her on the coffee table that she had her foot on 2 seconds ago. 😚😚😚

her confidence and his calm and collected (and thus, most un-shivaay-like) reactions have me feeling this is yet another one of their “collaborations”? 😯😯😯

which... i know doesn’t work at allll, plot-wise... but dude, i am just such a sucker for these two and their role play, i’m not even mad. i’m just so hyped from this scene, i’m sitting here like:

LMAO ANIKA’S FACE AT PINKY LIKE “WHATCHOO GONNA DO ABOUT IT, MUMMEH????” 😈😈😈

yuck, ASR. kya champu hairstyle banaye rakha hai? don’t you know that this is a set of exceptionally amazing hair? 😖😖😖

also that suit. jesus. 🤢🤢🤢 it’s like he strolled off the sets of miami vice. (allahabad vice?) 

and is he wearing surma????? maaaan, kahan clean cut hottie arnav, aur kahan yeh jail se choota kaidi look? zameen aur aasmaan ka faraq. 😔😔😔

now can we put an end to the “shivaay is short” jokes? as i suspected, he’s justtttt as tall as arnav! if nothing, shivaay has maybe half an inch ON him, thanks to the gravity-defying floofy hair. 😕😕😕

lmao the firsttttt thing ASR has to say to old friend SSO is a count of how many phones he’s broken. 😆😆😆

may it be noted that ek sau chauhatar (174) is the official number, as per canon. up from in 78 in episode 2. 

96 phones in a year. that’s almost 2 phones a week. shivaay is single handedly keeping apple’s india market alive. 😌😌😌

ok, i’m a sucker for both these stupid men’s smiles. so here: 

snort, meta reference to ASR being out of commission after 8 30 pm. (IPKKND shall air from 8 - 8 30.) 😂😂😂

SO MUCH META. SO MUCH. I AM DYING HERE. 😁😁😁

ok ladkiYAAAN nahi, exactly ONE ladki has said you have kanji aankhein that are satrangi. and she’s your wife. she’s obligated to gas you up.  zyaada udne ki zaroorat nahi hai. 🙄🙄🙄

“LET ME SEE”!?!? OMG??????????????? 😧😧😧

UM OK, were our two fav beautiful-eyed sociopaths about to kiss??? I BELIEVE THEY WEREEEEE!!!!!!!!! ANIKA WHO???????? CHANDINI WHAT? HETEROSEXUALITY WHERE????????? 🙃🙃🙃

personal headcanon: they’re college friends, who were bi-curious and experimented... otherwise, explain the totally casual touching (shivaay adjusting advay’s coat, advay’s hand on shivaay’s shoulder drawing him in), and the sex eyes they just made at each other to me. EXPLAIN! YOU CAN’T!!!!!!!!!! 👬🏽👬🏽👬🏽

is advay talking about anika... or HIMSELF???? 😐😐😐

MOAR SOFT SEX EYES. 👀👀👀

oh. so shivaay is fully aware of advay’s “mission”? 😗😗😗

i bet they’re both part of some sort of “4 Lions Men” forum/newsletter thing, where they keep up with each others’ news, and share the latest techniques in grabbing, arm-twisting, throwing aukaat-related insults, how to compel a woman to marry you, etc. 😒😒😒

like... i know ASR is talking about anika, but i can’t help but frame every passive aggressive thing he’s saying about love as a reference to himself. 😌😌😌

(jesus christ i ship this so fucking much.) 💘💘💘

ship name: #YYSinghs (get it? Vaay-Vay.) 😊😊😊

wait is advay pronounced “ad-way” or “ad-why”? if it’s the former, then ship name is #VaayVayOrTheHighway. 🙃🙃🙃

lmao ok advay, that insertion of show name line was a little clunkyyy and forced. try harder, please. 🙄🙄🙄

even your boyfriend shivaay wasn’t impressed. he’s like “kar liya promotion? ab footage khaana bandh kar aur phuttt yahan se. 😒😒😒”

lmaoooo more meta. 😄😄😄

that wink! 😆😆😆

ouff advay, kahaan i want you to make a move on our man here, and here you’re pushing anika on him. 😤😤😤

chalo, tum naa sahi, toh i’ll take her. i’ll try and make my peace with it. 😕😕😕 heterosexuality wins again. ugh. 🙄🙄🙄

daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn omRu. “jo bhi karna hai ab hum karenge”, indeed! I FUCKING LOVE ITTTTTTTT. 😘😘😘

also queen be haq jamaaoing like no one’s business. get it girl. GET ITTTTTTTTT! 🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽

#ishqbaaz #ishqbaaaz #ib episode liveblogs #episode liveblogs #300617 ib lb