#behold. my repetitive music takes.

[newty]

🌙 a teredio playlist

also i totally grabbed those words in the edit from meditation by richard aldington go read his poem here.

anyway. some selected Thoughts:

canta per me - Yuki Kajiura

The life of the love beloved in my heart oh be happy, you, my soul sing farewell

strong voice and strong violin. it has a proud tone even through what it asks, but it's also asking bc it won't say goodbye itself.

Before We Drift Away - Nothing but Thieves

And as we sing this familiar song I thought I'm gonna miss your love when it's gone Will it flow into the river Or will it go to waste?

the uncertainty that separation/death is going to happen but with no idea how or when. use of the ocean bc sanbrequois shoreline but also the funerial river in twinside

Free If We Want It - Nothing but Thieves

I walk beside myself To see what's left Of you and me And what it means If it goes wrong (don't look back) At least it was real

reflection on a past that feels meaningless but still had a loved one in it. having the ability to move on but also the choice to continue as things are. but mostly just let that shit go and keep going

see also: stand by me - florence + the machine / tsuki o miteita - kenshi yonezu / let the starts fall down - yuki kajiura / walking the wire - imagine dragons / dance me to the end of love - douglas dare

---DION

Pianissimo - Agent Fresco

Could this be All there is Will this shame have a name Only for this night Calm me for this night Oh this shame has a name

dread, uncertainty, danger, desperation. shame is the name of the love that doesn't speak. relying on smth once and then needing it again and again.

Pyre - Agent Fresco

We both belong to longings of past Can you see the pyre below? We both belong to longings of wrath Can you feel the fire grow? Loneliness has only shown me I can't let you go

pairs w pianissimo. the expectation of punishment and the tone of danger. having no time and finding extensions of smth by carrying it in the body, even if it hurts or it's haunting.

IL DONO DELLA VITA - Måneskin

The sound of your ugly laughter Has opened the way for me to the right path I breathe in clean air And I let it kill me But my heart still beats A light that rips through the ground

defying the ppl who are guiding you by doing what they want and not being destroyed by it. part of me thinks this one is a bit too self aware for dion tho LOL

Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths

Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you Today, of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

i mean. achilles. convincing someone who did great things that they're worthy of more than nothing and death. the length and how many pleas it takes to finish, but achilles' choice is still left unanswered.

also see: the dragon sups - takeharu ishimoto / too much is never enough - florence + the machine / never let me go - florence + the machine / rest up, ignis - yasunori mitsuda / wait for me - agent fresco

---Terence

The Driver - Måneskin

Bare your soul 'till it's naked Bite my lip 'till you break it If you're gonna set fire to the night Baby, let me be the lighter If there's nowhere to go when you wanna go wild I wanna be the driver

enabler terence!!! also lot of feelings abt power. speaker is ordering the subject to rule over them. the subject is the one doing things, but the speaker is a necessary part to all of them. a driver is in charge of the vehicle but not the destination

De Selby (Part 2) - Hozier

What you live in Darling, it finds a way to live in you I wanna run against the world that's turning Let all time slow, let all light go I wanna kill the lights

aka 'terence doesnt actually show any resentment for bahamut for cursing dion into this bs life but for the next 3 minutes 47 seconds he does.' and hes gonna go against the world if dion wants it done

I, Carrion - Hozier

I do not have wings, love, I never will Soarin' over a world you are carryin' If these heights should bring my fall Let me be your own If I should fall, on that day I only pray, don't fall away from me

laughs in dragoons in the sky and bolting straight back down to earth. also bahamut holding the earth. also god this is so saccharine i almost hate it

also see: lover, please stay - nothing but thieves / ghastly medley acoustic - masashi hamauzu / shield of the king - keiichi okabe / the battle is to the strong - kajiura yuki / francesca - hozier / umi to sanshouu - kenshi yonezu / keep me in the open - gang of youths

also terence & kihel tagteam times are the beginning - one ok rock / blood upon the snow - hozier / lost in the snow - yoshitaka suzuki / tendou-sama is smiling - KOKIA / my hands - leona lewis

#dion lesage #ffxvi #OFFERS THIS INSTEAD OF WRITING #behold. my repetitive music takes. #honestly almost every playlist i ever encounter makes me feel like im chewing gravel #so Judge My Taste At Your Peril bc its prob not great KJHSDFJKSHDF #i listen to this on my commute #when i tell myself im going to write in my head #and instead i just shriek along w florence welch #AND WHO CAAAAARES IF IM COMING ALIIIIVE #brihamut's mercy

[emxie]

When the World Was At War We Kept Waltzing

You are the sole heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country. A charming and mysterious stranger steals your heart. What could go wrong?

Zhongli x Fem Reader

Warnings: Blood, gore, murder/massacre, violence, one curse word, slightly suggestive content, somewhat yandere Zhongli

Word Count: 3139

A/N: There are several influences that inspired this piece. Music plays a huge part in my writing, so originally I drew inspiration from Lana Del Rey, specifically her Born To Die album, which I love to pieces. Of course, this song title is basically from a Lana Del Rey song (from her Lust for Life album), except for the last word, which I changed to "Waltzing" both for alliteration/phonetics purposes, and because it fits the theme of the fic more. You might recognize influences from Hamilton and Parasite, as I also like these pieces of media. When I first started writing it, I meant to include more angst, but as I formed the story, it morphed into a darker storyline and came to involve some blood and gore. What can I say, I just enjoy writing horror. Additionally, you might notice some repeating motifs throughout the story, specifically involving color. After reading The Great Gatsby, I have been fundamentally changed as a person, and thus why this fic also contains color symbolism and repetition of such themes. Also, although it's a bit vague and I didn't specify the time period in the actual story, I like to imagine that this takes place in the 1920s (just like The Great Gatsby), and there's like the sense of grandeur and riches associated with the time period (until it all goes south with the stock market crash, but let's pretend that didn't exist in this fic).

Enough about the background. I have not gotten Zhongli yet, despite doing 30 rolls and then some, and his banner is still continuing for another week and a half or so, so I'm saving more primogems up to roll more for him. Please come home Zhongli!!!! I'm so desperate you're the one character I would pay money for. Anyways, take this fic as another cry for help from the RNG gods to give me Zhongli.

I hope you enjoy the story, and remember that if you are triggered by violence and graphic imagery, or yandere-type characters, please don't read this fic.

“Would you like to be mine, and I yours?”

That was what he had asked you on this balcony laden with brocade ribbons and your heart bursting with passion.

A breathy “Yes” passed your lips, and then he was on your lips, gripping the bodice with a ferocity bridled. You two had stayed like that under the moonlight, broken up only by the occasional crackle of a firework.

You ran your fingers over the marble balustrade. Memories danced through your mind, earning a small sardonic quirk at the corner of your mouth.

How naïve you were.

That night set in motion a series of elaborate plans, not that you were aware.

Not even a week later, he had asked your father for your hand in marriage. You watched, holding your breath, as he sat across the furnished oak table from your father. As they talked, his hands continued to move as if they were their own entity, gesticulating to convey his intense love for you.

After an hour of discussion, you watched as your father reached across the table to shake hands with your love.

He stood up, moving across the room to where you sat. His amber eyes glowed as he reached out to you, gloved hands an inviting trap. You took his hand, standing up and being pulled into a tight hug. He brushed his lips against your ear. “You’re mine, beloved.”

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

After another month of bliss, engaged to the man who had taken your heart in its entirety, painting it red with his raging passion for you and entreating you to his cause, the wedding was announced. And it would be a sight to behold.

The absolutely sheer size and amount of wealth your family possessed signified that this would be a legendary union for ages to come. Invites slipped into envelopes and marked with your family’s seal, a dove holding an olive branch, were sent to hundreds around the country. Day in and day out maids and ladies-in-waiting would pester you about the dress, the flowers, the decorations, the theme, the ring you wished to gift your soon-to-be husband, and a variety of other accessories.

In the few spare moments you were able to catch with your fiancé, you would find yourself within his arms, gripping onto his broad shoulders as he bent down and kissed you. Occasionally you two would get a little too riled up, and had to cut your loving short lest a servant find you. But in those several times you found yourself subject to his more intense states, you were shivering, eager to learn what it was finally like to be loved by such a fierce and powerful man. And as you grabbed onto his long black and caramel locks which trailed behind him whenever he walked, pulling him down into a rough kiss, his hands ghosting your body feverishly, you couldn’t wait to be wed.

And wed you would be. For it was the day of your holy union to the one you loved, and excitement thrummed throughout your body as you were being dressed. The maids were straightening out the final pieces of your outfit. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you could hardly recognize the person staring back at you. The intricate makeup, paired with the dramatic crimson dress that you chose, was certainly a statement. Layers of bright red fabric made a beautiful waterfall all the way from your chest to your ankles. Making the decision to dress so boldly was another way to ensure the strength and legacy of your family among the wealthy. Of course, at the time, you didn’t think much of how he had suggested you wear a certain color.

They placed the scarlet veil over your face, obscuring your vision. It was time.

You walked out of the dressing room, a couple of servants gathering the glorious gradient of a tulle train behind you. The presence of such a color caused pride to swell in your heart, and your back straightened and you felt a bit taller as you slowly stepped, in sangria-colored heels no less, towards your future.

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

You had arrived at the venue where the wedding was to be held. Hundreds of people, most whom you knew from previous encounters, milled around the entrance. Your maids guided you towards a side entrance, so that you would be prepared to walk down the aisle once everyone was seated.

After some time waiting, you were informed that everyone had gotten settled, and it was about time for you to walk.

Rising from your seat, you passed another mirror in the room before leaving. Glancing at your reflection, you noted how your appearance seemed to herald…something. You resembled a specter; of what kind though, would remain unseen.

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

Regal doors, carved with designs of divine intervention, could barely be seen beyond your veil. There was a hand clenching around your heart. You could feel your pulse speed up. This was it. The beginning of your happy ever after.

Your father stood to your right, looping your arm with his. “Look at my gorgeous pumpkin, already so grown up.” You offered a delicate smile at these words.

A grinding noise sounded as the doors opened. Music began to play as you began the slow trek to the altar. Each step felt like an eternity. There was a noticeable hush as you began to walk.

Your gaze swept over the guests. You could make out some familiar faces. They looked as if they were drenched in a red liquid due to the filtering effects of the veil.

Then you were there. Your father handed you off, and stepped to the side. Looking up, you saw him.

He was dressed handsomely, in a suit matching your dress’s vivid choice of color. The sleeves stopped just above his wrists, allowing you to focus on his hands. Black gloves still covered his hands, barring you from viewing the naked flesh underneath. A little miffed, but undeterred by such an occurrence, your eyes moved up to his face.

He possessed a strong profile. Intense golden eyes, an angled bridge of a nose, lips that were straight-set, yet still so luscious and plump (you knew from kissing them so often), and a jawline to die for.

His eyes trailed over your body, taking in the sight of how beautifully you had dressed up. Just for him.

The music ceased. Only the occasional shuffling noise could be heard from the guests.

“We gather here today to celebrate a most momentous union!” The priest announced with a wide sweep of his arms. Some polite applause ensued, before dying into oblivion again.

The priest continued on with his speech. Some of the words became lost on you. Staring into those glowing amber eyes really did make you lose track of time.

With the exchange of the rings, you gave him a black ring carved from obsidian with ruby and gold veins running through it. In return, he gave you a typical diamond ring, although the jewel was perched atop a red crown. The priest was about to conclude.

“You may kiss the bride,” he declared. Your husband leaned in, grasping your soft hands in his rough leather gloves. He placed one hand behind your back and dipped you, while flipping the veil behind your head in one fluid motion. The crowd gasped in awe at his movement.

You could finally view his handsome face, unhindered by red. He kissed you, those plush lips resting comfortably on yours, just as they did on that nighttime balcony escapade. His eyes flashed a golden brown as he did so, so fast that you missed it. Your eyes fluttered shut, basking in his unwavering attention.

You didn’t feel the veil floating back down to shield your face from the atrocities committed. Almost. The absence of his warm lips and firm grip had you opening your eyes, searching for the touch of your husband.

The world was swathed in red. The guests were asleep, draped over the chairs in awkward and unnatural positions. Your father was slumped in his chair. Standing in the middle of the aisle was your husband. You ran up to him, hiking up your dress to reach his side.

“What happened?” you inquired.

“It had to be done,” he whispered, shoulders stiff as he stared down at the ground, hands entrenched in his pockets.

“Wait, what had to be done? What do you mean by that?” You backed up, heel skidding on the marble surface almost too easily. Tumbling backwards, you landed with only the padding of your dress breaking your fall.

The sudden motion tossed your veil backwards.

It was red. Everything was red. Red. Red. RED.

A scream clawed its way out of your throat. You back-pedaled on the floor, away from the man. No longer was his aura inviting. The love within your heart was obliterated in an instant, crushed by the rising fear that swallowed every warm emotion in its dark terror.

Your hand slipped. Catching yourself on your elbows, you looked to the side. A slick scarlet substance coated your hand. You knew what it was.

Your stomach twisted into a knot at the sight, sending a wave of nausea throughout your body.

The clicking of dress shoes against the floor had you freezing in place, too afraid to do anything else. What could he possibly want? You thought that you had it all, and he had truly loved you.

He knelt down in front of you, cupping your face with a bare hand dyed garnet. You flinched as his soiled skin made contact with you. You didn’t miss the sorrow in those entrancing golden eyes as he witnessed you shy away from him.

“I had to do it, my dear dove.”

“Why? WHY?!” you yelled, slapping away his hand. “My entire family is dead because of you!”

“Now; that’s not entirely true, princess.” He gestured with a grand sweep of his arm to your surroundings. “Give a great round of applause to your regularly-scheduled assassins!!!”

He chuckled at your puzzled expression, slowly morphing to one of wide-eyed horror. Several wedding guests arose from the prone bodies around them, dressed in all black and with Gatling guns slung over their back.

“I don’t understand. What could you possibly gain from murdering my family, much less hundreds of people?” you protested.

“Angel, angel, angel.” He tsked at your confusion.

In one quick smooth motion he had wrapped his hands around your head and placed his forehead against your own. You squirmed in his hold, cringing at the feeling of life, other people’s once thriving life, coating your once perfectly-coiffed hair.

“Oh, is my dear princess a little squeamish?” His voice had deepened, sending tremors throughout your body. You felt his fingers tighten around your locks, tugging on them ever so slightly.

“A small price to pay for the keys to an empire.”

It dawned on you.

“This…this entire time, I trusted you! How dare you scheme to steal my family’s fortune!” You struggled once more, and he released his hold on you, having thoroughly soaked your hair a crimson shade.

He began to pace in front of your weakened form.

“Beloved, you know that I only have the best intentions. Believe me, I really did fall in love with you. At least, that’s all it was at first. Did you know, the idea came to me in a dream, with you by my side? You gave me the idea. You agreed to be rid of the shackles of your family’s status and expectations in order to be by my side. And that’s when I reached for the sun, love.”

You spit at his shoes.

He stopped pacing. Leaning down, hovering over your body, he gripped your chin with a newfound strength, sending jolts of pain throughout your face. “You’re lucky I love my wife so much that I would be willing to overlook a little bit of deviance, when she should be rightfully punished.” As you were forced to look up, the amber eyes you had so loved to stare into for hours on end gleamed with a vicious ambition, thirsty for vengeance and glimmering with scathing deceit.

He released his hold, and continued to pace.

“I thought to myself: why not kill two birds with one stone? Continue my original plan of marrying you, but orchestrate the death of your father to gain access to an entirely new world of wealth.”

“You bastard! I hate you!” You screamed at him, voice growing more hoarse with each passing second.

“Now darling, I don’t think that’s an appropriate way to treat your dear husband,” he mused, shooting you another glance with those damned eyes.

You shut your mouth, the obscenities coming to a halt. Something sinister lurked beneath the surface of those eyes. And if you didn’t stop yelling, you didn’t want to know what he would do.

“Now, as I was saying, once we were legally married, I would be able to get rid of your father without anyone questioning my claim to your family’s assets.”

“Then why did you kill every other person in this room?” you questioned, voice cutting into his reasoning with a bitter hatred.

“Simple. They were collateral.” He shrugged as if this were the most rational approach to take.

“Don’t give me that sanctimonious bullshit,” you spat. “You know perfectly, as do I, that there was no need to shed so much blood over an act that could have been committed in secret.” Your voice cracked as the “secret” spilled over your lips. The gravity of this atrocious event hit you straight in the stomach, twisting your insides until you felt sick.

Sinking to the floor, you began to sob, body trembling against the cold floor. This time you ignored the drying vitality crusting over the white marble, for it could no longer distract you from the terrible truth that had been unveiled. You could not escape the claws of the dead, for they were forever persistent, leaving indelible rust-colored stains that permeated your dress, your skin, and your mind most of all.

He let you cry, until you could mourn no more.

Growing quiet, you whispered one thing through a raspy voice: “Why play your ace now?”

“I couldn’t just sit by and take the coward’s approach out. I had to go all out, my love. Otherwise, I would have no right to call you my wife, and you to call me your husband.”

“And how do you plan to cover this up? This isn’t some stupid business deal you can let fall through when it no longer suits you. These are lives you so carelessly crushed. You toyed with the fate of all these people. And you will pay.” You steeled your gaze at him, glaring with all of your might.

“I won’t let that happen, dove.” In one swift movement, he drew a pistol from his suit.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! As naturally as if he were breathing, he took four shots, clean right through the skulls of each of the assassins.

“There. No witnesses besides us two. I hired the assassins from a local mafia. We can blame the deaths on them and how it was part of a larger scheme to take over your family.”

He blew the smoke off the tip of the barrel before pocketing the pistol carefully.

“I believe it is time for us, lawfully wedded husband and wife, to return to our rightful mansion. I will talk to the authorities and handle the specifics, okay? All you have to do for me is sit pretty and act scared, princess.”

He placed another rough kiss to your head, burying his face in your bloody mussed hair. You didn’t respond. He took your left hand in his and placed a delicate kiss, right below the ring he had so lovingly slid onto your finger, which was now saturated through with the runny insides of others. You didn’t respond. He ran his hands, dipped in the sacrifices of others, down the sides of your dress. You didn’t respond. He sighed.

He slid one of his arms under your bottom, and supported your back with the other. “You know, you’ll have to talk to your dear husband sooner or later, dove. I won’t have any bad behavior from my wife.” 

Muttering these final words to your despondent form, your love, the one who had buried his fangs deep into your heart until it dripped red with desire, picked you up in his arms and carried you off, his own bride, back to your home—no, our home—where no one would be there to meet and congratulate you. Where your father would no longer be. And where you would never find happiness again.

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

You sighed, running your hands up and down the railing of the balcony. It had been a year since you had first kissed him. A night you will never forget, and always come to regret.

“My darling, my dove, my angel, my princess, the light of my life.” Arms encircled your waist, and he buried his face into your neck. His hands, bared to the chill night air, toyed with your thin coral nightgown.

“What are you thinking about? I hate to see you look so miserable.”

You smiled, despite the pain in your dejected and blackened heart. “Just about the night we first kissed, honey.”

He peppered kisses against your skin. “Ah, yes. That night I wanted to ravage you and steal you for myself. Yet I withheld and waited, remaining patient and anticipating our marriage with open arms. If not for that night, we would never have married and gotten our happy ending. If not for that night, you would have been plucked out of my life forever, like a dying flower. I revitalized you, darling. Look at how you glow in the moonlight. My wife, all for myself.” Chuckling, the timbre of his voice rumbled against your skin.

Placing his right hand around your waist, kneading the soft flesh underneath his fingers, and interlacing the fingers of his left hand with your right, he began to sway with you from side to side. There was no music to guide you two. Yet you still danced, illuminated only by the moon and stars.

And so was your fate. Doomed by the very man you loved. The man who had charmed you and pulled the rug out beneath your feet. The man who had shielded you from the bombs he himself had set, distracting you with promises of loyalty and extravagant gifts. While the rest of the world had raged on, he had blinded you to reality, and now you were his. The man you were to be wed to for all of eternity.

Zhongli 血红血红血红血红血红血红

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x female reader #zhongli fanfiction #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin au #yandere genshin x reader #yandere zhongli #genshin angst #tw: yandere #tw: violence #I meant to make this full-on angst but then it devolved into a dark fic #I'm so sorry to all my soft readers #he was supposed to run off with your assets and break your heart #but i couldn't do something that mid for the geo daddy #so i had to go all out and it became a horror fanfic instead #there might be inaccuracies in the time period #then again i didn't specify a time period so you can't flame me for messing something up #also idk why y/n didn't hear the gunshots let's pretend she was so wrapped up in Zhongli she ignored the sound #too tired to write the gunshots into the story #it ruins the atmosphere #please come home Zhongli

[daydreamsandcaffeine]

take your time on me

A look into Katniss & Peeta enjoying a beautiful spring day in their van life adventure.

We'll go dancing in the kitchen You fall in my arms Baby won't you let your phone keep ringing Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Won't you take your time on me? -Vance Joy

Set in the same universe as Falling, a fall day drabble, and A Christmas Winter Wonderland.

A breeze blows through the air, gently swaying the grassy stalks along with it. Blossomed wildflowers dot the grass with soft shades of pink, yellow, and white. The sky is a pale blue with the occasional white fluff marring its appearance. 

Golden curls glisten as the sun shines brightly down. Its owner happily kneads a ball of dough on a smartly fashioned pullout counter from his campervan. The repetitive hand movements are a sign of familiarity-press, fold, turn, press, fold, turn. It’s perfect really for a beautiful spring day that beckons one to take it easy. Once he’s pleased with his progress, he cuts the dough into four parts then flattens each part through a roller.  

As he continues his methodical process, the strings of a guitar suddenly blare through a stereo, making its presence known against the sounds of nature and labor. A braided head pops out from the side of the van, a small smile playing at her lips. Humming along to the tune, she steps out in the open air. She looks up towards the sun, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath-inhaling the fresh air. She then strides over to her companion and wraps her arms around him from behind. Her petite self gets on her tiptoes and gives an affection peck to his cheek before her eyes zero in on his actions-sheets of dough turning into pasta noodles before her eyes. Delight crosses her face. The beautiful spring day beckons for a lovely evening of delicious eats and intimate atmosphere.

Golden boy gives her a playful nudge as she admires his handiwork. “You’re distracting me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Usually no, but I’d rather not deal with hangry you.”

The fiery brunette shoves her shoulder against her broadly built companion in response then steps away and turns around to take in their surroundings. Singing along to the tunes playing from the speaker, she heads to the lake and dips her feet in. The cool temperatures of the lake lap at her feet, tickling her. She perches on a dirt-patched spot right by the water. Her restless hands start picking at the wildflowers circling her. The spring day beckons her to embrace the beauty of the day, so she crafts the wildflowers into a crown and places it on her head, making her even more radiant under the golden hour.

Time passes, and aromas of sauteed garlic and onion begin to permeate the air. The scent of a fresh home cooked meal is heavenly. The talented chef is in his element-expertly chopping ingredients, mixing a savory sauce, and toasting bread. The sizzling and boiling are a symphony to his ears. While he plates the meal, the radiant girl sets out to be productive. A well loved picnic blanket and comfortable seating pillows have been laid out. She grabs a flat crate from the van and places it atop the blanket, a decent stand in for a table. The finishing touches are lighting a tealight candle and pouring two glasses of wine. The blue-eyed boy makes his way over, plates of freshly made pasta and toasted garlic bread in his hands. They toast and tuck into their meals. After all, a beautiful spring day beckons for this grateful pair to enjoy the moment.

As the sun sets, the smokey-eyed girl grabs the speakers from inside the van and turns up the volume. The beats rush through her veins, intensifying the energy inside her. She melodically belts out the lyrics to the song and twirls to the rhythm. He’s captivated. When the raven haired beauty loses herself to the music, it’s a magical sight to behold and experience. She holds her hand out to her awestruck partner, and they dance away-laughs and smiles aplenty. Because when it’s a beautiful spring day, it beckons you to live in the moment.

When darkness settles and the stars twinkle brightly, he asks, “Today, real or not real?”

She answers in a heartbeat. “Real. Absolutely real.”

Fin.

#oh look #i did a thing #it's been a hot minute but i was inspired #i wanted to get this out before summer is officially here #everlark #everlark drabble #everlark fanfiction #katniss x peeta #van life!lark #van life!everlark #daydreamsandcaffeine writes #daydreamsandcaffeine edits

[selenaevander]

Prompt #26: Break a Leg

After the personally-humiliating Erasmus interview that made me the punchline of an absolutely overwhelming number of repetitive and uncreative jokes, I oscillated between defeat and consummate rage. There were days when I was ready to pack up my costume bags and find a new career, to perhaps pivot and become a lawyer or maybe a lawyer's disgustingly wealthy wife, but then there were others when the only thing I could focus on was searching for an open opportunity to have my revenge. Allow me to set the scene for you.

The season's films du jour were mostly comprised of musical romantic comedies, particularly after the surprise success of Gavrenti's Good Looking, a quirky script about two spies with ordinary identities who wind up assigned to spy on one another. It was a terrific watch, laced with black humor that buoyed what could have been awfully twee dialogue in other, less deft circumstances, and directors were scrambling to imitate its success. Valerie and I had both landed parts in somewhat uninspired, but well-enough-earning pieces that were particularly heavy on the dance numbers (and critics agreed that my technical prowess and grace in Baby Grand Piano were a marvel to behold, just for your information), and some genius or another had the idea to host a charity auction where we would perform stripped-back versions of our famous dance sequences with the winners. I grumbled about it at first, for who could match the deft partnership of dancing with Sebastian Baris-Bruno, but I gradually became wise to the fact that it could instead be the perfect chance to strike.

I knew Valerie was taking a particular medication for an infection she contracted while shooting on the set of Glimmer (not sexually-transmitted, to my knowledge, but would it surprise anyone?), because my girl saw her girl at the pharmacy covertly filling the prescription and promptly reported back to me. I also knew that she was avoiding alcohol, per what must have been her doctor's instructions, as I heard her use the excuse at a thespian's guild dinner several times throughout the night. But what Valerie didn't know, because I am a genius and the contents of her skull have the approximate texture and content of a baked potato, is that it also doesn't mix well with highly-fermented beverages, and can quickly onset nausea, vomiting, and fainting. What luck, then, that one forged rider sheet later ensured that every single juice, tea, and sparkling beverage offered in her dressing room fit that description exactly.

I could see her pale and sweating, wobbling in her heels as she attempted pivot turns in our rehearsal that threatened to snap her ankles. Before she swept out into the grand ballroom to make her unforgettable entrance, I made sure to call out to her in support as her knees quivered. "Break a leg, Valerie."

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #selena #garlemald #garlean

[lowcosmic]

heyhii aha I'm kinda gonna be exposing myself a lot here for how much of a horrible person I actually am but, I think I do relate to 💫 anon's feelings, life can get boring if there's absolutely nothing all that interesting to do, I don't have any specific coping methods on it that I'm aware of.. although before I got pulled out of public skl, I used to act like someone I'm not but because of people's first impressions were always based on my face, everyone I've met only ever had a crush on me for it and became somewhat obsessive sometimes and in actuality I can also be a rather apathetically cruel person. I'd play into the role of a pretty/nice girl everyone assumed me to be just for fun, for years I constantly lie to people for my own personal fun, they hold onto that impression and that's what made it easy for me to manipulate a person although I don't think I have yet to cause actual harm from it so far since they never seen through me, I would do the same thing over and over everytime we moved skls, it was all the same but it wasn't repetitive probably because of different peers and the way I adjust my act to still be fun for me to play into, now that I'm not dealing with social learning I can't do that anymore, and that's only one of my own methods to keep myself entertained despite it being rather disgusting to keep fooling around with people and/or their feelings for fun. I'm prone to boredom, I've realized that over the years, sometimes the days I feel quite depressed and bored which does urge me to do something about it and even my brother notices when I get like that in which, he's rather quick on taking action, he would just invite me to adventure out for simple sightseeing because he knows I can't get enough of sceneries despite having seen it many times before 😭 I can't really give out direct advice afterall it was just a rant, not an ask for advice, but hopefully it gives you a rough idea on what you can do..

people I've met were naturally attached to me from the start, so even if I pushed them away they would constantly keep trying or they would still try to keep in touch with me somehow. despite pretending to be an outgoing friendly person, being around people I don't feel close to drains me, which results in me isolating myself or moving on from them. personally I am aware of the people that care and love me but with how unsympathetic or apathetic I am, I just can't reciprocate every single one of those people. so I can't say too much about online/offline friends.

although as for character fixations, I really enjoy nagito and kokichi's character, recently I suddenly gained a bigger fixation on kokichi, I think it was because I related to his characteristics on a certain level. even if I absolutely adore nagito there was a time where his content just stopped in which I would indulge myself in my old character fixations, such as momiji from fruit basket lol, I've always liked his character since I was younger as well and suddenly going back on it felt refreshing in a way. moving back to before, mm I have a lot of hobbies ranging from a lot of subjects, languages, music/art, sports. I hate drawing but sometimes when I have nothing to do or can't go out I try to go back into drawing, I practiced singing, piano, violin or ukulele to pass a bit of time until i get bored of it again, or I'd hone my language skills to keep in touch with my knowledge and sometimes I would do singular sports practice or just to have fun, like gymnastics or playing volleyball n wtv with my brother, there's a lot of things in the world to see and do, I go out on walks when I feel like it just to see the sky and clouds or go to my favourite cafe that I frequently visited when I didn't go back into old habits from depression. so then after the daytime, I would see the stars and moon when I can, the sky is always an amazing sight to behold even after I noticed I kept seeing the same stars every night. there's definitely some things I could never get bored of, I can't say for certain that this could be applied for everybody but I do hope so, whenever I felt bored I would kinda start self destructing over it most likely because I didn't feel like doing anything productive in the moment and I'd still contradict myself by wanting to go out or do something, anything. I'm just putting it out there in case you guys relate in some way, and also because I don't mind it since opening topics up sometimes helps me understand how I want to take action or it let's me understand myself, since I've felt like a chaotically complex person. my feelings on this aren't just something that popped up recently but rather I do feel pained by boredom almost everyday..when I'm bored, I get all sorts of emotions from it, like sadness, self hatred and even nostalgia of my life..or another thing I did was eat when I was bored and rewatched some old anime..at the same time I wouldn't even take my own word for this since personally I don't believe in my own feelings, because of how much I've pretended to be sad over things in front of people and I could only ever confirm I'm actually hungry when i can physically feel my own organs in pain despite it being rather unhealthy. but anywhas sometimes I use those feelings to get myself going to get up and try to do something so idek but it's possible to still use those wandering emotions to your advantage, to pull yourself together and find something to do or see. hopefully this won't last too long as it'll feel unbearable. this was longer than I thought 🥲 (but I try to give out my personal experience to show I can at least understand to an extent, so the one suffering can believe me when I say I feel like I relate)

⋆ 🔭

DID NOT READ THIS THRU DUE TO LIMITED TIME , BUT HERE U GO

( will read later js hafta get this out )

#🌙 — — conversing . #🔭 #💫

[thefamilyaberration]

Living with my Family*

me: hello can I pls have [item] that will help me do [task] easier?

my family: you are stupid. [item] is stupid. you don't need [item].

me: ok. then I refuse to do [task]

family: Wait No-

*Family being my mother and grandmother. I live with my younger brother as well, but he's exempt from this post bc he doesn't make fun of me for anything like this

specifically though, I asked for gloves to wash the dishes because I spend the ENTIRE TIME trying to completely avoid touching any crumb of food in the sink that could be soggy to the point where it takes me way too long to do such a simple task. BUT. I finally convinced them to let me get gloves and lo and behold, it took me closer to 15 minutes instead of 45. what a shock (sarcasm. it was genuinely not shocking at all to me). I also asked for earplugs because repetitive sounds (which my brother LOVES to make) constantly drive me to the brink of insanity (aka I get overwhelmed too easily by them and get irritable) but what I actually said was that I wanted them for upcoming concerts and my little bro's basketball games (they had music on. WHILE THEY WERE WARMING UP. dribbling + music = HELL) and I STILL had to spend weeks convincing mom that I need them

#I am not diagnosed with anything but I think I might have adhd #no clue though bc my therapist says its “just depression” (no.) #honestly I'm way less depressed now that school is out but it's not changing the fact that I have something going on in my brain

[teathattast]

Tea's Music Reviews #004

Artist: Lil Durk

Album: 7220 (Deluxe) (2022) [link]

I discovered Lil Durk through features on NAV's and Gunna's albums. My first listening experience was Just Cause Yall Waited 2. Before 7220 came out I had already become a fan through the singles he was releasing prior to this drop.

I've been wanting to review this album for awhile because it holds a special place in my heart. Lil Durk is someone that knows how to pull on my heart strings. I relate heavily to the things he writes about.

Back when the 1st and 2nd versions, 7220 and 7220 (Reloaded), respectively, released in March, I was going through one of the roughest periods of my life. This album held me down when everyone around me turned their backs.

From betrayal and addiction to deep self reflection on life and issues in close relationships, this album really hits home for me. Whenever I'm feeling a way, I turn this album up as loud as my ears can handle and bask in the cathartic overtones accompanied by a cornucopia of tightly wound instrumentals.

The day I sat down to review this album, I discovered he had released the Deluxe version 4 months after the original drops. With 13 extra songs, I really took my time to marinate with it, so here's my official take:

Durk is unmatched in my opinion. His signature flow, while somewhat repetitive, is addicting. You can really hear the experiential pain in his lyrics, but he still keeps the energy high in every song. Something I feel isn't easy to do, nor something I hear done well enough to be commendable. Durk's lyricism feels like reaching into a bag of jellybeans and getting your favorite flavor everytime. Truly something to behold the way he weaves his words together.

Smurkio exhibits a deep sense of self that I feel is often missing in modern trap music. The mixing could've been a bit better, but given how much content he put out this year, I'm definitely not complaining. Durk is one of my favorite artists hands down. This album has been on repeat ever since it released.

This isnt a no skip album for me though. Some of the features just don't fit and I could've done without the little country flavor added towards the end. Regardless, this is his best work in my opinion and I'm hype for his next album.

Notable songs: So What, Risky, Computer Murderers, Shootout @ My Crib, No Interviews, What Happened to Virgil (feat. Gunna), Smoking & Thinking, Pissed Me Off

Overall rating: 9/10

#tea's music reviews #lil durk #7220 deluxe #lil durk 7220 #music #music reviews

[googledocsdyke]

for communitynatural: i think it's interesting that while abed & cas are paralleled, as well as dean & troy, abed and dean speak in near constant references because that's how they relate to the world, while cas and troy just. say things. because they aren't scared of being emotional

ALRIGHT unfortunately this is gonna be long. i wanna deconstruct the cas/troy thing but i’m gonna put a pin in that for now because you’re right! but you’re also wrong! both abed and dean constantly mediate the world through pop culture, in a way that initially makes them seem really similar, but actually when you look at the respective ways their References and Homages work, it actually highlights how different their characters are, and how well they work as foils (different, complementary) rather than mirrors (similar, paralleled)

i think the key difference is that abed uses pop culture to make sense of the world, while dean uses it to make sense of himself. like abed has a very clear & coherent internal sense of who he is, and he's comfortable with it. he knows that who he is isn't someone the world always perceives as "acceptable" or "normal", so sometimes he uses pop culture to translate that person into something or someone “acceptable” readable by the world. but it never actually modifies his internal sense of who he is! key moment: in early season 1, where the study group is intent on making him over so that a girl will like him, and "teaching" him to be "normal". he goes along with it, and when the plan fails, they all express regret that they somehow damaged his self-esteem by forcing him to think that he needed to change for other people. and you know what he says?

"when you really know who you are and what you like about yourself, changing for other people isn't such a big deal." like this is a line that is SO key to understanding abed's character, and makes him like truly one of the best characters on television (it would've been so easy for his internal conflict to come from him hating himself for being autistic(-coded), and they DON'T do that, and it's GREAT) 

and like. can you IMAGINE dean winchester saying that. like can you imagine him saying that even as a joke. for all his efforts to present himself as a Coherent Swaggering Hero, he has DEEP internal turmoil over who he really is, and all the points at which this heroic masculinity fails. half the time, he is gripped by self-hatred. and when he "changes himself for other people" it's not something he casually flips on and off. it's at the very core of his identity. it's something he cannot remove from himself. he knows full well that "your taste in music? dad's. your jacket? dad's. do you even have an original thought?" he then proceeds to listen to the same music and emulate john winchester in essentially the same ways for the next decade and a half.  dean winchester only IS dean winchester because of the external influences that force him to change. and part of this comes from his own compulsion to be written as/write himself as Hot Action Hero at all costs. like literally at the cost of his own life. it's a game that he can't stop playing. when he gets hit by a CAR he wants to know "did it look cool, like in the movies?" abed would never ask that. abed would just know it looks cool. dean has this pathological need to see it reaffirmed by an Audience, a Ceaseless Beholding Gaze that compels him to perform action hero masculinity at all costs

there are two key points of comparison that really cement this for me:

when abed says "i got self-esteem falling out of my butt," it's like an incredibly sincere line. he genuinely is comfortable with himself and has a high opinion of himself. sure, sometimes he gets distressed that the world doesn't see him the way he sees himself, but he knows who he is and doesn't attempt to repress it or lie to himself about it

when dean says "i think i'm adorable" or "there are no men like me" or like any of the "i am dean winchester and i'm amazing and i love myself" swagger lines, it's a PERFORMANCE of self esteem masking, like, a deep core of self-hatred. his entire personhood is built on him lying to himself — (dean to himself in 5x04 voice: i know that lying face i've seen him in the mirror). he can't truly have self-esteem or self-stability because he doesn't truly have a sense of what his Self even is

the han solo thing. in the season 2 finale during the paintball war, abed very consciously takes on a han solo persona because the setting demands it ("it appears we've exited the western and are headed for more of a star wars theme"). he dressed up as han, drops an iconic line or two, and has a Hero's Makeout with annie (who’s “playing” leia) in-character. but as SOON as they're both soaked in paint (and thus their characters are Dead within the game) he snaps out of it with no problem whatsoever. annie calls him "han" afterwards and he literally says he only did it “because the context demanded it.” abed knows exactly when he’s playing a role and when he isn’t, and very consciously turns it on and off.

but dean. OH DEAN WINCHESTER. he is playing the pop culture han solo hero role at all times and will never admit to himself that he is performing. it soaks into like the very core of his being. to quote tumblr user minor-mendings, “dean is trying to be the movie cowboy, the outlaw, the han solo type, with no realisation that that person doesn’t really exist.” i go over this in more detail with my han solo + dean meta - in so many ways he is So Thoroughly Not the pop cultural role that he insists on playing with complete sincerity, and that the writers insist on writing him into with complete sincerity. abed always knows when he is Playing and Referencing and Homaging and Alluding. dean NEVER knows when he is Playing and Referencing and Homaging and Alluding because his whole life is play, an elaborate repetition of stylised acts

so you're right, i think dean and abed are really interesting characters to read alongside each other in that they both 1) sincerely love pop culture in its own right in very fun and neurodivergent ways and 2) use their pop culture knowledge in their own self-fashioning and the way they translate themselves to the world and 3) engage with the world through Homage and Play and enjoy playing Roles. HOWEVER. the way they respectively use pop culture is so deeply different and indicative of fundamentally different processes of self-fashioning and self-perception, that i can't read abed as a dean-figure or dean as an abed-figure. they're complete inverses of each other! dean is a troy mirror/troy-figure and an abed foil

#answered #dean studies #communitynatural #spn #community #wrote this while in line for a covid test wkdffdjfks sasha behind the scenes #anyways communitynatural hive eat this one up #caniwritemywayout

[spideymarvelws]

one true love.

Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!GN!Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary : Peter will go threw everything to keep you safe, protected and most importantly always his. He saw you as the person he observed and watched for the past few months, the sweet, kind girl that stopped to pet stray dogs or smiled at everyone who needed it. But somethings he never took notice of, some things that would’ve made him love you even more.

Warnings : THIS IS A DARK FIC! I am not responsible for your media consumption but if any of these topics or just dark fics on a whole trigger you please do not read! cursing, murders, blood, violence, mention of sexual assault, death, stalking, graphic description of a dead body, homicide, fluffy if you squint, use of guns and knifes.

A/n : If any description throughout the one shot does not pertain to a gender neutral reader please let me know :-) also if i missed anything in the warnings.

Word Count : 1.8k

...

The definition of love is something that never stays constant as its experienced from person to person. Even to that very being, the meaning changes every year, month, day even hour, from what that individual may feel in that moment. In some cases, it may be the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to someone, changing there life in ways they could never even imagine. 

In other cases, it could break a person whole, bit by bit, tearing down at who they once were. Emotions like guilt and regret, jealously and remorse running through there veins, thinking that love is only made to destroy the ones foolish enough to believe it exists.

Then you have the rare case of love at first sight.

Now, some may argue that this concept that only seems to show up in movies and TV shows is complete bullshit, that it doesn’t exist.

“You can’t look at someone and automatically know they’re the one for you,” Ned said to him one day, pulling his head out of his chemistry book,“What if they’re an awful person? What if they do something constantly that you don’t like? Seriously, looking at someone and knowing there the one is just basing It of there’s looks or something,”

Peter didn’t respond, afraid that he might lash out at the only friend he’s managed to keep throughout the years. He thought about the last statement a lot, wondering if all he ever really felt was the physical attraction.

But no, that pull you feel when you look at someone for the fist time, watching there movements with whatever tasks they’re doing at the moment, even if it’s nothing at all. Falling entranced with there every gesture, taking in every curve and colour, memorising every feature.

It wasn’t just looking at their appearance, it was taking note of how they moved, how they acted, how they laughed, god there laugh is like music to your ears. It was watching and observing, that’s what Ned missed in his little speech.

Then of course you have the people who don’t believe in love, which was something he could understand.

Before he saw you.

For Peter, love was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt for his one true love. The way you made his heart stop with one smile, his face red with one touch, his hands sweat with one word. In your eyes, he found his entire world.

And he destined for you to be his.

The countess nights he spent dreaming of you, laying besides him. He longed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to mark you with his love. He shocked himself with the self control he had to maintain around you especially when it came to the people you hung out with.

The amount of times he wanted to run out of hiding and crack the skull of some idiot who decided to talk to you or dare even look at you in any suggestive matter. The thought make him gag every time, but he’d like to think that you already knew that he was looking over you, that you belonged to him. That’s why you never took any of them on, that’s why you turned them down.

He couldn’t blame them for trying, but they had no chance since they would be gone the next day.

Which is why he hoped you could forgive him for what he did, for what he had to do.

The body laid in the back seat, wrapped tightly in a bag. There was no blood spilled, sadly, only the indents of his hands on the base of his neck. 

It was fun, watching the life drain from his eyes as he listed off every bad thing he’s ever done, mainly to you, but he threw in a few more ex’s just to spice things up a bit more. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed him, maybe he should’ve just let him walk free with the threats he shoved down his throat.

But then he had to call you a bitch, from that point he knew his life would just be a waste of oxygen.

Peter let out a chuckle at the memory, at the fake confidence he showed, struggling in his hold. It truly was a sight to behold, one that made his realise why he enjoyed being Spiderman so much. 

Seeing people suffer for there terrible mistakes and knowing that he had the power to punish them.

The drive was long and quiet, one of his hands was on top the steering wheel, tapping to an imaginary beat while the other settled on the arm rest. The streets were rather empty at this hour to Peter’s surprise, making him smirk that he would get away with the murder.

Maybe he could’ve stolen a better car.

But he was doing everyone a favour and he was keeping you safe.

He took a right into a dense forest, his car moving with with the bumps on the course road. When he felt like he was deep enough down the path, he hit the breaks, cringing at the squeaking noise it made.

Regardless, the exited the vehicle, opening the trunk to grab a shovel. He knew that there were a number of more efficient ways to get rid of the body, one that could’ve used his position in the avengers to his advantage, but his old techniques started to grow repetitive. 

It didn’t take him as long as he thought though, the hole he dug was around eight feet deep and hopefully the right size to fit the body. Dropping the shovel to the floor, he walked back to the car not to worried about his surroundings knowing that no one ever visited this part of the forest. 

He grabbed the body from the back seat, throwing it over his shoulder carrying it to the hole and tossing it inside without care. He smiled at the bag as he filled the hole a quarter of the way.

“Time to find an animal now shall we?” He whispered to himself, pulling out the hunters knife from the back of his pants along with a flash light, “Just incase,”

As he walked threw the trees and bushes, keeping look out for any movements he heard a gun shot cut threw the air. He gripped his knife, walking carefully towards the noise. 

Oh how he was sorry for the poor lad that decided to be here this night, but he had too do what had to be done.

Suddenly he was sent back by a force jumping on his back. He fell to the floor with a thud, his body forcefully turned over with a gun pointed directly between his eyes.

“Y/n?” He froze, his breath becoming heavier at how close your face was to his. Now he understood why his spider senses didn’t alert him, because you weren’t a threat to him, you could never be.

“Peter,” you whispered, lowering your gun, scrambling off of his body much to his dismay, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He asked back, still shocked at you proximity to him, talking with him, breathing the same air as him.

“You answer first,” you said quickly.

“No you,” Peter said back, crossing his arms.

“I-,” you started, but looked down, trying to hide your bashfulness, but it only drew attention to the blood dripping from your hair.

“Baby,” Peter whispered, walking up to you to grab your face, any sense of self control left his body after seeing the state you were in, “What happened,”

Peter thought it was some attack on you and judging by the amount of blood covering your skin, you had to defend yourself. He expected you to look up with the innocent eyes he’s studied for so long, finally getting a chance to get a closer look.

But instead, you raised your head with a sinister smile gracing your feature, you stepped out of his embrace, taking his hand in yours.

“Let me show you,” you whispered, in an almost sultry voice sending shivers down his spine.

You pulled him to a tree, taking the flashlight held in his fingers and pointed the light to the base of the trunk. Peter stared confused at the sight, walking forward slightly to inspect the slumped body. It was tied down tightly with rope around the waist and mouth, cutting threw the skin deeply showing signs of struggle. There was multiple stab wounds in the stomach, words carved in there legs that he couldn’t make out with the dirt and blood covering them. He did however notice his name on her forehead and the bullet wound in the middle. 

The streaks of blond in the hair falling in front of the face told him that this body belonged to Gwen Stacy.

“When she started talking to you I could see how uncomfortable she made you,” you started, looking to the floor while playing with the dirt with the sole of your shoe, “I- I didn’t like how close she got to you, and- and since she bothered you too I- I thought we were doing us both a favour,”

Peter stood back up, looking back at you. He wondered how somebody so insane could hide it so well. Even with the evidence painted over you, he still saw you as incapable of ever doing anything like this.

The thought made him laugh loudly, walking up to you and grabbing your face.

“I fucking love you,” he laughed more, making you smile brightly as he put his forehead against yours, “You’re perfect I swear,”

You laughed along with him, putting away your gun in your pack pocket, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’ve- I’ve so long for this,” you giggled, pressing your nose into his neck, basking in his sick scent, “But, what are you doing here?”

Peter giggled as well, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Same reason at you my love,”

Your eyes widened, you placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his lips back into yours. It was longer and sloppier than the first, both of you getting use to the movements but also desperate for the feeling.

Peter backed you up against another tree, pressing his body against yours, his deluded mind not reregistering how fucked up the situation was, but he loved every second. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking and bitting at the skin, drawing out delicious moans from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you sputtered, biting your lip and tangling your fingers in his hair, both of you not paying mind to the blood, sweat and dirt, “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long Peter,”

“Me too baby,” he said, tightening his hold on your waist, “Me too, now how about we hide these bodies together hmm?” He tickled your sides lightly, grinning at the giggle you let out, “Then I’m gonna take you home and make up for lost time,”

...

--->Interested in more? check out my other Dark!Peter fic<---

Hearts, reblogs and comments always appreciated 🥰

Taglist: @jadegill​ @joyleenl​ @ietss

#peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x gn!reader #dark!peter parker x dark!reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #yandere!peter parker

[elysian-entries]

One film, two visions; The Justice League

It’s 2017; the highly anticipated “Justice League” film, directed by Zack Snyder, is set to be released later in the year as a continuation of the DCEU.

A blockbuster movie showcasing the biggest DC characters uniting. Taking down the ultimate super villain; bound to fulfil millions of past and present children’s, as well as current adults and elderly dreams.

Then a fork in the road appears, Snyder and his wife, Deborah, step down from the colossal project due to the incredibly woeful loss of their daughter, Autumn. News hits the fans like a brick. Resulting in Joss Whedon and the Warner Bros. Studio stepping up to the mantle. Or at least attempting to.

Whedon's theatrical cut lost Warner Bros. Pictures approximately $60 million dollars. With overall painfully negative reviews and reception. Breaking the hearts of DC fans everywhere.

4 years, campaigns, hashtags, sky banners, petitions, and billboards later; I can’t say how many of us would have predicted receiving the holy gift that is the “Snyder Cut”, in its full 4 hour running time glory (in a 4:3 ratio, which somehow adds to the grandeur). 4 years of dedicated, passionate and determined people helping in any way they can for the cause. It was a journey to behold.

A large section in Snyder’s 4 hour venture is used to build dimension and depth in the characters. Making an absolute world of a difference. Something that was sorely lacking in Whedon's cut. The film had a completely different feel and atmosphere instantly.

There's no better example of increased depth in characters than Cyborg's (Ray Fisher's) narrative. I was engaged, and intrigued by his story. In Whedon’s cut, he isn't even given a second thought. His entire backstory was cut as well as his father's important role also being stripped. His scene where he sacrificed himself in order for them to find the mother box was gone. And it took away such an important, integral part in Cyborgs story, and in the film in general I believe and also realised having seen the two movies; the complicated but delicately developing relationship between father and son. And just the whole story in general made such a difference in Snyder's cut, it really is almost indescribable the difference it made. It just felt so much more genuine and heartfelt. Like a real developed and executed narrative.

In Snyder's cut we were shown detailed flashbacks that fully fleshed out his character, his morals and his relationships. Creating a much needed deeper connection with the audience. We experience his conflicting journey to accepting his responsibility, accepting the past, the "gift he has", and his purpose in the league. Leading into receiving closure. He was given great and meaningful importance and purpose in this cut.

Similarly, Ezra Miller's Flash was too given a largely more meaningful and impactful role that left quite the impression on me. His character was light-hearted and charming but still had those important, emotionally impactful scenes. Which were painfully lacking in Whedon's cut. I was left loving Barry Allen a lot more than I already did. Barry's scenes with his wrongly convicted father were hard hitting for me. They also play a large part in making later scenes more impactful. Like his detrimental importance during the final fight. In Whedon's cut his big hero moment was saving a Russian family. The overall the inclusion of the family was superfluous and extraneous, along with the robber at the start and many other things. Not only that but Whedon's cut gave the Flash a silly, attempted comical relief role. To be fair he attempted to give everybody a comical relief role. Which hardly worked because none of the attempts were actually funny and were at time agonizing. It ultimately lacked substance and came across as almost immature. The scene where Barry went on about brunch was painful. Leading me to ask, why? Why was this so important to film Whedon?

After re-watching Whedon’s version, I had gained a new found appreciation for Snyder's representation of Barry. '"Make your own future, make your own past"; he echoes his father’s words. "Your son really was one of them, the best of the best," as his theme "At the Speed of Force" plays in the background of this pivotal moment. A powerful scene reflecting Barry's ulterior motive, doing his father proud. Which invoked many tears. And still does whenever I re-watch the scene or listen to the song. As if it were the first time experiencing it. Thomas Holkenborg's soundtrack truly amplified emotion and made the scenes much more powerful, It makes for one of the absolute best scenes in the movie; I'd say one of, if not my absolute favourite.

His job in charging up Victor was completely removed and I have to wonder why. Instead Barry was left to participate in "bug duty" (bugs being one of his fears also). Barry's role in Snyder's cut, and that one incredible scene where he broke the rule was arguably better than Whedon's Justice League as a whole.

I think the only scene in Whedon's cut involving Barry that I thought was actually meaningful was where he was faced with his first real mission. And he was confronted with his fears of "obnoxiously tall" beings. He appeared anxious and frantic. Fearful. Communicating to us his inexperience. And Batman simply told him to just "save one". To which he then, without struggle, saved them all. And was also able to participate in the final battle. The "save one" scene made those achievements more meaningful.

The scene after they won the battle, showcases the victorious team standing proud; and Barry with a sweet, goofy, golden retriever-esque smile plastered on his face. What a loveable smile.

An interesting contrast is the scene in where Barry reveals to his father his new position at an “actual job”. In Snyder’s cut the father was absolutely over the moon, shouting at the top of his lungs, "his foot is in the door!" repeatedly in excitement. It tugged at my heart strings; his shameless pride in his son. Making me wonder how he would have shown his pride if he found out Barry saved the whole Earth and humanity. We can assume Barry had that unequivocally powerful underlying thought too. Contributing to his saccharine reaction. In Whedon’s cut the reaction was softer and more timid but nonetheless a sweet moment. Barry becoming bashful.

It was a sweet touch to have Cyborg and Flash finally fist bump during that victorious scene after Victor rejected Barry's initial advance in Whedon's cut. Ezra Miller improvising that “racially charged” line, acknowledging the possible racism attached to a fist bump I assume. The whole fist bumping being "racially charged" was not included in Snyder's cut. The grave digging scene was entirely different. Which I far more preferred. It was a group excursion. With a little positive interaction between the Atlantean and the Amazonian. And funnier, more light-hearted dialogue between Barry and Victor.

Aquaman’s contrast was interesting. In Whedon’s cut he actually sought out to obtain the trident to help the league (although he was always disagreeing with them). Compared to Snyder; where he was apprehensive and had to be hesitantly persuaded by Willem Dafoe’s character Vulko (who was completely absent from Whedon’s cut). This was also an importantly established relationship by Snyder. Arthur first makes his desire to help the the team known saving them from the water rushing from Gotham Harbour. He isn't acknowledged in the theatrical cut but in Snyder's cut Diana notices and takes a moment to take in his presence (I assume?). Then Barry asks who that guy is. And of course we all know, it's Aquaman.

I particularly liked how Snyder chose to include Barry asking for Arthur's opinion on military hats. It's an odd, minimalistic thing to include - the reasoning as to why I like it. I also thought it was quite charming.

A scene I think deserves a mention is when Aquaman is first introduced, and then rejects Bruce's offer, he then makes his way back into the ocean. A farewell song is performed. This was quite early in the film and I think the voices being hauntingly beautiful, yet slightly eerie/poignant set the perfect atmosphere. A well done scene.

His overall character was also contrasting. He became a genuine hero who was proved capable of more than water powers and silly moments. Including that god-awful lasso of truth scene. In the theatrical cut he was bitter, a bit of a joke, not caring too much about the events that were unfolding. He had more of a heroes’ sense of purpose within Snyder’s cut.

Gal Gadot did not gain too much from the extra scenes. Though different to the theatrical cut, Snyder had paired her with a repetitive character establishing theme. It could be referred to as ancient lamentation music. Hauntingly beautiful. Something I could only assume would be the battle cries of the Amazonian warriors and the Amazonian warrior inside Diana. In some ways possibly over used, though I thought it was brilliant. It has a special place in my heart because I love that type of soundtrack. The almost eerie, maybe poignant but overall emotion provoking type. Especially her introduction scene where she faces off against the terrorists )which was overall better in Snyder's cut) The haunting warrior moans fade into her classic theme to create an incredible atmosphere. And that atmosphere was definitely missing in Whedon's cut, in more than just that one scene. It was also sorely lacking the lamentation music. We also didn't get that sweet interaction between Diana and the little girl.

When Diana began detailing Steppenwolf and the mother boxes past to Bruce, the cuts were very strange and abrupt/awkward in some way. And it felt silly and rushed; and I think that perfectly describes the whole film.

Whedon's cut also included uncomfortable scenes. Almost forcing characters to be funny where it was just completely out of place and character. Or just downright inappropriate. To be fair, Whedon is known for the Marvel movies in which fourth wall dimension breaking and odd self ware/ironic jokes are heavily used. One of the main reasons I don't particularly enjoy them, but rather enjoy the darker, more meaningful DC movies. I say meaningful in the way in which we are completely transported into this universe; where it's taken seriously and has obvious effects and meaning to the characters. Compared to Whedon's Marvel films in which the threat is joked about and the characters make fun at their expense.

Another negative contrast is the colour grading and overall shots. A good example is the conversation between Lois Lane and Martha Kent. In Whedon's version the colour is poppy, reminiscent of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or The Office. As if it were an empty shell of a TV show. Lacking any artistic or symbolic aspects. Whereas Snyder's conversation between Martha Kent (who was actually Martian Manhunter) and Lois Lane was beautiful. The lighting was dim, with steam from their hot coffee creating a brilliant shot and conveying the perfect mood. Almost a piece of art. A lot of Snyder's cut looked as if it were ripped straight out of an incredible graphic novel. His talent when it comes to filmmaking is grandiloquent. Compared to Whedon's over saturated and flat scenes as if it were from a cliché sitcom.

Whedon also made the Justice League a lot more dysfunctional than it needed to be.

The scene where the team unanimously come up with the plan to revive Superman seemed really silly and lackluster in Whedon's cut. In Snyder's cut it was a genuine moment. A "wow" moment where the penny dropped. It gave me goose-bumps. The way it was implied, the explanation/analogy with the house, and then Cyborg creating a Superman visual as the team, standing around the table, stared at it in awe. All thinking the same thing. Without even having to say it (as Barry pointed out) It was a uniting moment. Whedon's version was just, disappointing. Lacking any impact at all. And it made the team seem disconnected in a way. Whereas in Snyder's scene the league's thoughts were in unison.

There was also an agonizing amount of Wonder Woman praise. I think praise is a...well...nicer way of putting it. It was more so adolescent boy humour, immature if you will; with her being the butt of the joke. To the point where it was little uncomfortable and borderline unnecessary. And to another point where Gal Gadot refused to do a scene, (the one where Flash lands on her) and Whedon insisted so much on still including it - that they used a body double. A scene so stupid and pointless it actually hurts. Why, Whedon?

Superman's main feature in this film is his moustache. Or, lack thereof. At the beginning of the theatrical cut, we witness the infamous Superman film scene, where we are introduced to his CGI moustache…then “Everybody Knows” by Sigrid plays as we see the aftermath of his death. I really enjoyed this scene, the song and the atmosphere. I think it was a strong start, setting the poignant mood. But of course it all goes out the window and downhill from here.

The biggest difference between the two Superman’s was the elimination of the godforsaken CGI removed moustache and the introduction to the “Recovery Suit” in Snyder's cut, which was a brilliant touch. We actually see Clark stumble upon the suit. A scene where various voices from his past, echo in his mind. An equally important and impactful scene; where he flied up into the universe, overlooking the Earth he is to protect.

I also really liked the whole, "Lois Lane is key" setup, with the eerie premonitions and glimpses into the “Knightmare”. Adding yet another deeper layer to the narrative. Setting the scene for Snyder's envisioned sequel.

In Whedon's cut during the first confrontation where Clark is confused immediately after his resurrection - the previous BvS battle is implemented more. With the "Do you bleed?" question being revisited. Giving us an unwanted closer look at the strange looking $3 million dollar CGI.

I liked Snyder's first confrontation better. It included more action and participation of all parties. And it was just a longer scene, making it seem more plausible and less silly. Before Clark reached Bruce he went through every member. Resulting in a little appreciated interaction between Arthur and Barry. I also thought Whedon’s scene showing Superman throwing Batman away like a ragdoll added to the ridiculous nature.

During the final battle. (Not mentioning how uncomfortable the colour grading was causing an unlikable atmosphere. Especially when it became daylight, taking away the exciting and intense atmosphere.) Whedon's Superman's entry was a little plain. Maybe cliché. Banging on about "truth" and "justice". Which isn't necessarily bad. It's just, maybe, too Superman? We then see the relieved faces of all the members. Batman's giddy smile was by far the best. It was nice to see genuine happiness and I think that played an important role in communicating to us Bruce's character arc. From lowest of lows, and his conflicting attitude towards Superman in BvS, to Superman giving him incredible hope. Though it slightly made me uncomfortable.

Snyder's entry of Superman was brutal in the best way. Appearing just before Cyborg was chopped to bits. Giving us that epic moment of 'He came.” Superman mercilessly rips into Steppenwolf for the next minute or two. No breakaways. Which was a great choice. It perfectly showcased his abilities. Though in the theatrical cut he was shown to be the only capable one of saving the world and being the real “hero”, in Snyder’s cut, especially The Flash, they were all shown to be powerful with meaningful parts to play.

Bruce Wayne appeared more guilty and conflicted about what happened in BvS in Whedon's cut. Though he was overshadowed in terms of writing by Superman and Wonder Woman. He also was the one who brought in the "big guns" a.k.a Lois Lane as a contingency plan in case the Superman resurrection went awry. In which it did. In Snyder's cut it was coincidence, or the doing of Man Hunter in that mysterious scene. Bruce was also quite tense and wasn’t too much a bright beacon of hope as he was in the Snyder cut. Even despite Snyder's vision of him being reminiscent and heavily inspired by Frank Millers version; darker, older, broken and violent in a way (which is brilliant) he still had this character arc. The lover’s tiff he suffered with Diana was irritating and what I thought was superfluous. Creating an unnecessary disconnect with the group. It wasn't an interesting sub-plot/complication at all .

Bruce's character arc (from the dark BvS time, to the hopeful present) was more thoroughly shown in Snyder’s cut compared to Whedon's. I briefly mentioned Bruce's schoolgirl grin when Superman arrived right on time. Though Snyder more effectively showcased this positive rise through his obviously increased in optimistic attitude. When the team are off the defeat Steppenwolf once and for all Alfred asks Bruce how he can be so sure of the Man of Steel’s arrival. And Bruce replies full of vigour, “Faith, Alfred, faith!” And in another instance Barry questions their strength against Steppenwolf due to the amount of demons he has won against. Bruce declares that, “He’s never fought us. Not us united.” It was a powerful statement that heavily elevated excitement for the final fight.

During this final fight, Batman basically goes out on a suicide mission. Then the rest of the league join him for a family reunion. The Snyder cut better represented this with an astounding freeze-frame, slow motion shot of the team. It nicely established the power of unity in this case.

The way in which Steppenwolf was defeated was vastly altered. Changed completely. Mostly due to Darkseid’s absence in the theatrical cut. Darkseid added an important extra layer of looming fear, and even gave Steppenwolf more depth. It gave him an important reason as to why he was doing what he wasy doing. As we saw his utter dedication to Darkseid. It alerted us of the larger dangers that were present. Steppenwolf’s death in Whedon’s cut was ultimately debilitated after seeing Snyder’s version. Instead of being anti-climactically eaten alive by his bug minions as the sun rose; (maybe it’s a personal preference but I heavily dislike the daylight, especially for action scenes) his head was chopped off, first horn by horn, then from the neck. His decapitated head thrusted back through the portal into his own world, landing at the horrifying Darkseid's feet, along with the terrifying parademons. Engulfed by a fiery hellscape. The horror that Earth could have faced. But still could face. It reveals the deeper and darker enemy, beyong Steppenwolf looming just beneath the surface.

A sinister tune plays, as we see the victorious Justice League looking back at them. The portal then closes. Although a victory, we can’t help but wonder what the demonic and powerful entities, far more powerful than Steppenwolf, have in store for Earth’s future.

The Knightmare vision being apart of that future. It's set up from BvS to the very end of Justice League. It's a very intriguing part of Snyder’s vision. The moment where you can link up and see the connections between all the post-credit scenes and the “premonitions” is an epiphanic moment. It’s a whole other narrative on its own that you can analyse, hypothesize and discuss. It’s a very intriguing/exciting concept to think of what would have been Snyder’s future movie where Barry (as we saw previously reverse time) goes back to warn Bruce that “Lois Lane is the key”, to avoid the whole disastrous scenario. We can gather that he is referencing what we see at the end of Snyder's cut, Superman turned evil. The death of Lois Lane, whose skeleton we saw Superman cradle previously, we can assume had a hand in that, and possibly the Anti-Life equation too. It's an incredible narrative, and there are few things I would love more than seeing the Snyderverse come to life on this epic scale again.

We also finally get a glimpse of Snyder’s joker. A very exciting moment for me. Seeing any new iteration of the Joker is an exciting moment. Could Jared Leto somehow redeem himself?

Well, it sure was infinitely times better than the Suicide Squad rendition. This Joker was actually eerie and unsettling. I felt almost uneasy watching these scenes, and his odd laugh caused shivers to form down my spine. Jokers comments about “boy wonder”, whom we find out was indeed Bruce’s adoptive son, were heartbreaking (I believe he was actually referring to Dick instead of Jason surprisingly as his grave was once seen in a previous movie) Leaving me holding my breath, wondering what Bruce would say next, or what other wretched thing Joker could say. Of course the "reach around" comment was a bit off, but I’ll just brush over that.

We also learnt of Arthur Curry’s death, Harley Quinn’s death. Proving that Snyder had such a colossal plans for all the characters, dead and alive.

It’s a poignant feeling; to see this incredible, vast narrative, just beneath the surface, unfold. Knowing that we won’t be able to see it fully developed. As of now.

While watching these two completely different cuts of the same movie; it occurred to me and I am sure many other people, that attempting to produce such an in depth narrative intensive movie on the small scale that Whedon attempted, will commonly end in a painful, empty and superficial representation. Or maybe that really was just Whedon's vision.

As the epilogue ended, the credits rolled. Hallelujah began playing, sung by Allison Crowe. And as they rolled, in big letters the words; "For Autumn" took center focus. White against black. Clear as day. Like a bus, it hit hard. The reason I was sitting on that couch finally having the great honour to watch such a film. The courage it must have taken to continue and finish such a project is beyond admirable, it's heroic. Also non-profit. It only further proves what we already knew, that the intentions were pure, as no one ever doubted.

Also acknowledging the giant billboard on one of the buildings promoting the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. A very important cause, especially to the Snyder’s. To date fans have raised over half a million dollars to the AFSP in honour of Autumn. A truly incredible feat.

When looking at the two movies side by side, it blows my mind to see the difference that I do. The emotion, meaning, the depth. It all just made sense in Snyder's cut. The emotion was palpable, absolutley unmistakable. Things mattered more. The people mattered more. There were reasons, and purpose. It was a genuine journey for every one of the characters, and I felt it. There were so many little scenes that made so much difference that added depth and meaning, emotion.

And I cannot say such words for Whedon, though I won’t put all the blame on him. Warner Bros. is about equally responsible. .

The true, original and intended Justice League; expatiated heroes, people, stories and journeys coming together on a grandiose scale, executed with passion and care. But also giving us a bittersweet taste of Snyder’s epic trilogy that could have been.

The end of the saga; and the rest of Snyder’s visions, are left unfulfilled; as of now. But regardless, remains as one of the things I hope to see come to life. Watching this movie, and the feeling I had during and afterward is indescribable. I want to say a massive congratulations to Zack Snyder. The film was beyond breathtaking. It really is so special and it will forever have an important place in my heart.

Though I think the most important thing to take away from the Snyder's incredible work is Autumn's story.

Thank you Zack Snyder.

For Autumn.

www.imdb.com/title/tt12361974/

#ezra miller #aquaman #the flash #wonder woman #justice league #gal gadot #review #opinion #analysis #the snyder cut #dceu #movie #zack snyder #superman #henry cavill #ben affleck #jason mamoa #the joker #joker #jared leto #movie review #film #compare #dc comics #dceu spoilers #snyder cut #long reads #long post #cinema

[certifiedceraunophile]

DISCLAIMER :

SMUT SMUT SMUT and FLUFF. (NSFW)

It’s basically a 5k porn smut-shot about dimples and dick. Mostly dimples but there’s gratuitous dicking too, because of course my brain saw a gif set of Mr. Klaus Forbes flashing his dimples and thought PORN.

ALSO,

Nominated for Best Smut Oneshot in the 2020 KC awards

(I mean I have been called an excellent homoerotic muse so I shoulda seen this coming)

Tags:

D/s undertones,

Dominant Caroline

somewhat bregrudgingly submissive Klaus.

——————————————————————————

TREAT AT MY BEHEST

The conversation was flowing smoothly, a little too smoothly, it truly was a sight to behold,

She doesn't find awkward bumps that the participants uncomfortably had to step over stilling the flow, no problematic cracks people either ignored or tried to tear open with their teeth, no blunt blows to the back off the head, or venom tipped words sharper than the fangs the Mikaelson family sported, Hell, even Kol kept his sexual innuendos count to an all time low of two per sentence, and it wasn’t tedious either, it was sunny honest conversation one that flowed and ebbed in tranquil warmth enveloping all those who took part in it.

But of course, the insufferable bastard she’s been calling her husband for the last handful of decades, and her last love for two centuries now, decides he’ll singlehandedly throw all progress out the backdoor.

Her husband, and his freaking audacity to flash those dimples, in that exact way, throw all progress out the backdoor if she’s being more accurate.

God he’ll be the end of her.

It’s no grand truth, that she’s very very closely acquainted with his dimples, and she means, ‘lick a sweet path from dimple to lip as per her wish’ closely acquainted, those perfect indents on his cheeks, make no mistake, they are hers for the taking,

But she admits, she has her preferences, she’s a bit finicky with her interests,

She’s not too fond of his shit eating ‘Yet again I’ve bested you, my love.’ dimples, or any other variant of that he flashes in the rare case he has the upper hand between the two of them.

She’s quite partial to the one sided dimpling the evil villain smirk has to offer, one she’s privy to during their hunts, or the ‘Ive got one word for you: run.’ smirk he displays before transforming into a walking talking guillotine, those are quite entertaining to watch bloom, and the customary thorough debauching of her body that follows any such murder work out is nothing dismissible.

Now the almost bashful and youthfully eager ones he shows her when he talks about his place in the world as an artist, when for once his hand can create instead of destroy, those are entirely just for her, that sit there pretty on his cheeks in the privacy of his studio, where they continue to relive a thousand different times in a thousand different places including Rome, Paris and Tokyo, that one day, when he thanked her for the first of many things he feels gratitude for, her honesty,

He still remembers it as the day he allowed the truth to be something he didn't particularly like for the first time in a long time, she however still remembers the day by the absolute fishing he did, standing there in his studio as he introduced his passions to her, patiently waiting in silent humility for her to notice these paintings were his and compliment him.

He still doesn't allow this truth to remain, she of course always knows better.

Then again she also loves the shy soft little ones he offers her and only her, the ones he gently picks from the buried bounded depths of his heart and places in her hand with such care, as he sweetly leans into her palm, moist plump lips pressed against her pulse. When he is so beautifully hers that the hybrid gold of his eyes is the sun and when directed at her is as warm and sweet as golden honey. Or when he nuzzles his nose into the curve of her neck, the swell of her breast, half laying on top of her, when he gathers her close pauses and then closer, as if he finds the flesh separating them offending, as though his very existence is meant to directly infect her soul unimpeded by skin and bone, as if he means to exist in her and through her, and live only within her.

He’s a bit pretentious with his love.

But she’s told him

‘Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.’

His simple response was to pull her to him and offer his neck,

“Drink.”

She’s never brought it up again,

His devotion for her, his raw thirst for her, it unnerved her at first when she finally decided after

The numerous ‘Sweetheart, they were not bloody staged’ run-ins in every continent she dared to set foot on,

The two times she needed his blood in the century she spent on her own,

The one night she needed his arms and scent to engulf her and his dead heartbeat to soothe her when Elizabeth Forbes passed at age ninety four,

The one time when she realised somewhere along the way between the sporadic meets and witch hunts, the werewolf venom and death counts, the art and music and culture their souls burgeoned to connect, the great cities they carved into their own stars, the languid conversation as they winded through both cobblestones and pink sands, underneath both fluttering snow of and steady stars, the silent moments of equal awe they both shared between the most downtrodden godforsaken places of hunger and poverty and the most lavish heavens, between all the beauty and filth in the world when they only had eyes for each other, amongst the scent of both death and life when they only inhaled a shared breath so sacred they locked it in and never let it out, when seas and continents and words couldn’t keep them apart, when neither his ego nor her stubbornness could count for any importance in the face of each other, when the one time she realised immortality for her wasn't the ungodly number of years she’s left behind still apple cheeked and smooth as milk, but was the ungodly amount of years still ahead of her that somehow always evinced his hand in hers,

When she finally, one balmy faultless Sunday afternoon, in the thick of Thanjavur’s humidity in India, sitting barefoot as per the town’s religious customs on the ground, sprawled carefully in the warm green grass that precedes the entrance of the glorious Brihadeeswarar Temple, that is almost as old as the man occupying her thoughts,

She finally finds her deviously elusive,

Oh.  

moment, proceeded by the

Oh fuck.

Moment,

Realisation hits her with the weight of immortality and her acceptance that there was no other possibility but this, that this has been inevitable for the better half of the last century, carries the weight forward into her heart and fills it with such indisputable finality, that Klaus’s place is by her side and hers alone.

And after that, well, what else was there to do?

After all of that, it’s one knock on his door, and,

“Alright, apparently However long it takes only lasted a total of 113 years, 6 months and 25 days. I thought I’d last longer, but I’m not as stubborn as I wished I was.”

That night was the first time she realised it wasn’t the first time they’ve made love, slow and sweet and beautiful, But it was the first time Klaus with all the vulnerability of a little boy back in Mygradrir who wore a sterling around his neck tight as a noose because his mother loved him so much, asked, mouth against her skin, face hidden in her neck, a whisper that shook in the middle and dissipated at the edges,

“You’ll stay, not just tomorrow, but after?”

“Yes, yes I will.”

That was about two centuries ago, and apparently after did not mean the day after tomorrow.

But she hasn't had too many complaints, she admits the novelty of him has worn off, he’s a bit grating on the edges, the sides and the middle, he’s entirely too insufferable to put up with for an extended period of time, definitely is only enjoyable in moderation and bite sized doses,

But she did let him put a ring on her finger, and also stood there holding his hand as they were bound by a witch in supernatural matrimony, so she can’t really tell it’s wholly his fault, but she apparently likes him too, in addition to loving him, so she’ll stay.

But she digressed a whole lot,

Where was she again?

Yes, his dimples.

Correction, her dimples

Their appearances are continual and each unique situation had one kind assigned to it, but that does not mean they are repetitive, Klaus is many things but least of all predictable, So he presents her with new ones every now and then, dimples she’d like to kiss till they imprint on her lips,

She knows that even if she goes on to live twice the millennium Her husband experienced, and even if every glittering rarity becomes a hackneyed iteration, and every resounding wave of novelty is a mere echo she’s experienced a thousand times, even if there is nothing new as she leads time through this carousel world as the closest thing to omniscient, then she’ll at least know her husband’s smile will always catch her a tiny bit off guard. That she will always take a second to touch it and see it widen even further when she does.

But there was this one single type of smile he flashed from time to time, a rarity in its own right, that one smile basically threw all progress out the backdoor,

The smile is always characterised by the fact that it’s not for her, or for his siblings, or his enemies, it’s for the world, it’s a smile that he never intended to give but slipped out of his hand anyway, and somehow ends up smiling with his entire body, but he’s done that countless times for her, smile with his whole being, she’d say at least twice everyday, usually more, but when he does it for the world, she’s a bit unprepared,

She knows his hostility against the way of the world all too well, it’s why he’s so adamant on dictating it, she knows the millennium of undead life under Mikael’s hatred left him with a tight grip on the world but only because he was hanging on to the edge of it with both hands, his legs dangling, but he doesn’t show it that way, instead phrases it as ‘I had the world at my finger tips, Now I have it beneath my feet.’

He’s a bit flashy with his pretty words, that total honesty to this man is as difficult as love will never surprise her, but the fact that this same honesty sometimes slips out so easily, unfettered and ensconced in peace and content, that does surprise her, like for instance, right now, He’s sitting there ankle over knee, occupying an entire settee with the way he’s sprawled because of course he has to be the biggest being in the room, he needs to know his ego easily accomplishes that for him, holding in his hand one of the thousand sketchpads he’s still kept after paper was no more the norm nor necessity but became a relic of bygone ages for centuries now, and as he sits there sketching god knows what, in the same room as his siblings, their chatter as perfectly idle as a family’s,

He’s smiling, not at her, not to his siblings, hell not even at his drawing, she knows he’s not listening to the conversation, so it’s not something Kol said or Rebekah whined, he’s perfectly uninterrupted in his smile that just bloomed on his face with no given reason, and there as he bows his head a little closer to the page, not because he wants to hide the smile but because he simply wants to see the sketch closer, she knows he doesn't even know he’s smiling, but he is.

So wide and beautiful and honest, and just because, a smile directed at the world, and to think he doesn’t even notice, to know that it’s so whole and full, that there isn’t a place left in his heart or mind to remind him to restrain it.

She knows she’s smiling just as wide too.

God, the things this man does to her heart,

And not just her heart, apparently her body too if the heady arousal that rushed straight to her clit as if a phantom hand rubbed it is anything to go by, because of course, she’s never so aroused by him as she is when he dimples.

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Much love and peace

XX

Srishti🤍

#my works #my edits #klaroline smut #KC awards #klaus x caroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline edits #d/s smut #caroline forbes #kc fandom #klaroline #kc edits #klaroline drabble #klaroline fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #otp: i shot him and now he thinks we’re engaged #otp: caroline i’m not you’re british muffin #otp: caroline my love

[the--sad--hatter]

Sparks Fly - Chapter 13 (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel Soulmate!AU/Detective!AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Gratuitous Violence, Criminal Activity, Life or Death Situations, Graphic Gore, Crime Scene Descriptions, Dark Humour, Slapstick Humour, Kara Humour, Catastrophic Amounts of Fluff, More Angst Than You Can Shake A Stick At

Summary: (Imagine Brooklyn 99 and Criminal Minds had a baby)

If you want to know if you’ve found your soulmate, it’s simple… All you have to do is kiss them. If they’re your soulmate then there will be sparks, literal sparks. You’ve seen it happen to other people and it is a sight to behold; at least you think it is. Detective Bucky Barnes is a little less enchanted with the idea.

Despite your glaring differences, you and Bucky work well together. You’re good at charming witnesses, he’s good at intimidating suspects. You can run a perp down, he can knock them down. But there’s one criminal who’s eluded you both for a long time, and when Brock Rumlow rolls back into town, you and Bucky find yourselves far outside your comfort zones.

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Chapter Thirteen - The Braidy Bunch 

You were afflicted with a severe case of cop-brain. It happened occasionally, you’d get so caught up in a case that you didn’t have room in your head for anything else. It usually happened on cases that were difficult to solve, enigma’s wrapped in mysteries, wrapped in a lack of evidence and a hard to decipher motive.

 This case had plenty of evidence. Two faceless corpses, a warning from a dead assassin, a murdered colleague, and a sinister bouquet of flowers.

 Motive was also clear. Rumlow was a psychopath and he was fixated on you.

 But where Rumlow was, what he would do next, and why he wanted you so afraid? Those were question you desperately needed answers to, and you had no way of knowing where to look.

 Your apartment held no clues. If it weren’t for the corpse and the roses left behind, you’d never even have known someone had been there. That thought had sent chills through you, and your grip on Bucky’s hand had tightened for a moment, but then you pulled yourself back from the edge and thrown yourself in crime-solving mode. It was the only way to get through this, to survive this. You had pulled your hand from Bucky’s and put on a profession air that kept the darkness at bay.

You weren’t the lead detective on the case, but assigning tasks authoritatively, you sure as hell acted like you were. Nobody fought you on it, they just nodded and took their marching orders seriously.

 Natasha was working her own case, with the new knowledge from you and Bucky. She was pressing on every contact she had in various other law enforcement agencies and scrolling through endless Interpol lists to identify the two faceless victims who had kickstarted the nightmare.

 Wanda and Pietro were combing through weeks of backdated security footage from the Chinese restaurant next door, to see if there had been any suspicious activity around your apartment before last night.

 Clint and Sam downtown at a well known bar for gang members, grilling his informants for information about Hydra resurfacing.

 Steve was fending off Major Crimes, and The FBI. Hydra were a known terrorist organization, which made this case a free for all, and he was working his ass of to keep it getting taken from you.

 And Bucky was glued to your side, just like he said he would be. He was taking his vow seriously, and you hadn’t left his sight for more than a few minutes, and that had been when you went to the bathroom. Even when you got back to the Precinct, he had taken up residence in an empty briefing room with you, helping you set up the whiteboards with all the evidence and passing you coloured pins as you asked for them.

 Everyone was doing everything the could, but to no avail. By the time darkness had fallen over the streets of New York, you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when the day began. You just couldn’t accept that though, you were convinced there had to be something you missed, and when Bucky had dragged you out of the station to take you home, you had managed to snag a file and smuggle it back to his apartment by hiding it under your shirt.

 “I fucking knew you were still working.” He sighed.

 You looked up from your cross-legged position on the bed, not even mildly guilty at having been caught. He was glaring at the file in your lap like he could set it ablaze if concentrated hard enough.

 “M’not tired. Listen, I was thinking about the flowers. They’re in the lab so we should know more tomorrow, we should go to the florist and see if they remember anything about who ordered them.” You said.

 There had been no card with them, because Rumlow hadn’t needed one. The flowers themselves were the message. He was telling you it was him, letting you know he was still alive, making sure you knew he was coming for you. He was lurking somewhere in the shadows, trying to get inside your head, under your skin.

 But everyone had thought he was dead. He’d been free and clear, and he’s blown it because he needed to hurt you. He might have thought he was winning, but he’d given you the upper hand, because he’d proven that you were the one who was under his skin. He’d fucked up, and that was how you were going to catch him, you were going to use his obsession against him.

 You just weren’t sure how, but you knew you could figure it out.

 You were startled out of your reverie by a pillow landing in your lap, and it surprised you enough for Bucky to pluck the evidence file out of your hand.

 “What?”

 He tossed it onto the corner of the room, and switched the light off so the only sliver of light came from the hallway. Oh, so he was sending you to bed.

 “I’m not sleepy yet, what the hell?” You snarled, attempting to get up and retrieve the file.

 “You’re not sleepy because you’re not calm.” He said, shoving you back down onto the bed. “You need to stop thinking.”

 That was rich, because by the expression on his face, he was thinking very deeply about something. While you were flattened against the headboard and glaring up at him, he re-adjusted the pillow on your lap and with a long, deep breath, climbed onto the bed and lay his head down on it.

 “What the fuuuuck is happening?” You whispered quietly, too afraid to speak loudly or move.

 It was like some sort of wild animal had climbed onto your lap in a sudden and unforeseen show of domesticity.

 “Mindless tasks keep your mind from wandering, and the happier you are, the easier you’ll sleep.” He grunted.

 That explained absolutely nothing, until… He swept his hair out from under his neck until it was all fanned out across the pillow.

 “Oh my God. Oh. My. God! Ohhhh myyyyy God.” You exclaimed in a hushed and awed whisper. “Are you? Is this? Can I?”

 “You know what it is.” He snapped.

 “I need to hear you say it, Bucket.”

 He scowled angrily at you, which didn’t quite have the effect he was hoping for since he was doing it upside-down from your lap. It was adorable.

 “You can braid my hair.” He eventually grumbled, not at all happy about it.

 You were thrilled though. The words were music to your ears and you clapped your hands together excitedly before you wiggled your fingers in anticipation. You hadn’t actually thought he would ever, in a million years, actually let you loose on his luscious locks. The first brush of your fingers against the brunette strands felt like victory, and you knew it was a memory you would treasure forever.

 You gently pulled your fingers through his hair, working out all the little kinks and knots, careful not to tug too hard. You didn’t want to spook him. He just lay there though, and after a few moments his eyes fluttered closed and all the little line on his face smoothed out as his expression melted into one of relaxation. He was enjoying this!

 You painstakingly parted his hair into even sections, and pretended you couldn’t hear the way his breathing evened out, but when you gently raked your nails across his scalp to section a parting, you couldn’t pretend you hadn’t heard that. It was quiet, but unmistakable, the soft grunt of pleasure that rumbled from his slightly parted lips. As soon as it happened, he froze, unnaturally still.

 So you did it again.

 As your nails softly dragged across his scalp, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek and his hands balled into fists at his sides. The back of your neck suddenly felt too warm and your heart did a strange sort of pitter-pat in your chest. All those confusing feelings that were swirling around inside your chest were not any easier to deal with when the object of your affections was in your lap, and all those less confusing feelings south of your chest were not helped by the noises he was making.

 You still did it again though.

 The involuntary reactions it brought forth, the fact he hadn’t asked or hinted at you to stop, and the endearing blush that tinged his cheeks were all too hard to resist.

 It worked though, his plan. Your mind was purged of all Rumlow and case related thoughts, and even the confusing emotional bullshit slipped further away with every lock of hair you twisted. You just lost yourself in the intricate braiding, letting the repetitive actions take up your headspace. By the time you were finished, you were finally calm, blissfully thought free, and relaxed. So was he, if the peaceful expression on his face was anything to go by.

 “Bucket?” You hummed softly, tapping him on the shoulder.

 Nothing.

 “Bucky?”

 Oh damn. He was fast asleep.

 “Well, fuck.” You whispered to yourself.

A/N -  This chapter is shit, i know it's shit, but it was a shitty chapter or no chapter at all 😫

Bucky Taglist (Closed)

@drdorkus​ @mad4oak​ @anamcg317​ @whoisbxcky​ @pinkisokay​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @dlcita @bonkybaaarnes​ @marvelsangels​ @lordofthenerds97​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @prettyboydevito​ @cleoisme​ @supraveng​ @lbuck121​ @daughterofthenight117​ @pinknerdpanda​ @courtneychicken​ @jocundasykes @iluvsumbucky​ @pychedelic-rainbow @ahappylilybug2019​ @silentcoyotesong​ @slytherinyodmslike​ @geeksareunique​ @aikeia​ @nighttwingg​ @ladysergeantbarnes​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @exotic-moondvst​ @buckyreaderrecs​

Everything Taglist (Closed)

@helloimanavenger​ @justahumblesinner @littleredstarfish​ @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af @dilaila95​ @buckysknifecollection​ @justellu​ @spnrvt​ @deathofmissjackson​ @sexyvixen7​ @fairislesheets​ @rvgrsbrns​ @dahkness​ @sleepycayley @isabelcrichards​ @riverdaleserpent04​ @jazztherebel​ @tell-me-a-poem​ @hiddles-rose​ @severepienerdturkey​ @life-wanderer​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @fangirlwithatrowel​ @abo4280ooof​ @destiel-artemis​ @dilaila95​ @tarastudiesalot​ @toxic-pineapple​ @ohnosiren​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​ @breezy1415​ @misswatson99 @chaoticfiretaconerd​ @marvelfansworld​ @stareyedplanet​ @themusingsofmany​ @zeannastardust​ @littleredstarfish​ @sammyissassy​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @kaz22992​ @randomidiot4444​ @musingpredilection​ @inquisitor-selvala​ @lianadelphius​ @happybookmuffin​ @tony-stank3​ @amoonagedaydreamer​ @dropthepizza346​ @my-drowning-in-time​ @lianadelphius​ @musingpredilection​ @belles-garden​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @unfriendlyrightfighter​ @rororo06​ @lookalivefrosty​ @official-and-unstable-satan​  

Sparks Fly Taglist (Closed)

@stareyedplanet @freeyourwings @marvelgirl7 @sarcastic-britt @intense-sneezing @eesha266 @buckyyyybear @jordan1509 @draqcnheartstrinq @jennmurawski13​ @whatcouldgowrong-ohthat​ @literalmcuhoe​ @siggy85​ @lordofthenerds97​ @noplacelikehome77​ @lokisironthrone​ @bwady-owo​ @humbledarkness​ @crookedslimecreatorpasta​ @1am9root6​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @tanelle83​ @thefifthmaraud3r​ @quixotic-romantic @vvienersoldier​ @scarletnerd05​ @emzd34​ @fandomsfallnomore​ @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​ @cateyes315​

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #The Winter Soldier #Bucky #Bucky fic #Bucky series #The Winter Soldier x Reader #The Avengers #Avengers x Reader #Avengers x Y/N #Avengers Reader

[podcasts-in-review]

Wolf 359

Alright, to start out, let’s get into one of my favorite audio dramas of all time: Wolf 359!

Wolf 359 is a science fiction character drama about the crew of the USS Hephaestus, a deep-space research station orbiting red dwarf Wolf 359, and the daily struggles, funny antics, and life-threatening perils that come with their life among the stars. There are a total of 61 episodes across 4 seasons, with several hours worth of bonus content to supplement it, and the podcast is completed. Episodes range from 20 to 40 minutes long, and they noticeably get longer as the series progresses. 

I personally love the way this podcasts blends comedy, horror, good character drama, and fantastic sci-fi action to create an incredible, character-driven narrative that packs a hefty emotional punch and will DEFINITELY leave you an emotional wreck. More than once. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

Now, into the nitty-gritty:

Plot/Writing - 9/10 - The plot of Wolf 359 is intense and fast-paced, never really staying in one spot for longer than a moment. Though the podcast starts out slow, it quickly picks up around the end of S1, and never stops until the last episode of S4. Mysteries are continually established, explored, and revealed, leaving you constantly in suspense, and though W359 typically follows a more episodic format, the actions and character interactions taken in previous episodes have long-lasting ramifications and consequences on the world at large. Gabriel Urbina and Sarah Shachat do an excellent job in writing a very dialogue-heavy story, and integrating more monologue-y bits into the plot fairly seamlessly. I could definitely see this story being changed into a TV sci-fi drama series very easily, with only minimal changes needed to the writing.

Characters - 10/10: The characters of Wolf 359 are really a step above, to say the least. All of the crew of the USS Hephaestus are absolutely brimming with personality, and every major character gets at least some amount of character development, with Hera, Minkowski, Eiffel and Lovelace being the strongest on this front. The characters all have complex, meaningful relationships with one another that grow and change throughout the series, and lend so much emotional weight to the many hard-hitting moments of the series. While some of the characters may start out as one-dimensional tropes, they quickly grow to become so much more, and feel very much like real people by the end of the podcast.

Technical Aspects - 9/10: The voice acting in this show is simply fantastic, and the performances give plenty of life to every single character. Though Zach Valenti’s Russian accent as mad-scientist Alexander Hilbert occasionally comes across as corny and fake, my personal favorite performances are Zach Valenti as Doug Eiffel, Cecilia Lynn-Jacobs as Isabel Lovelace, and Michaela Swee as Hera. I never really had any issues distinguishing voices while listening, even with a large ensemble cast. In addition, the soundscaping and audio editing, from explosions to spacewalks to fights, is absolutely phenomenal and really helps to augment a purely audio story into something more. Using the same audio clips for similar situations (typing on a keyboard, opening a hatch, depressurization) can occasionally seem repetitive and annoying, but are crucial for establishing character action and a sense of place, even when we can’t physically see what the characters are doing. The music, when it comes in, is great and memorable, and includes everything from classical to ambient to more intense tracks. 

Theming/Genre/Tone - 9/10: While in setting, Wolf 359 is strictly science fiction, it toys around with different elements of workplace comedy, character drama, action, and even horror to create a tone as varied and complex as its characters. I’ve been genuinely on edge listening to some of the scarier or more action-packed episodes, and the comedy in the lighter episodes is well executed and genuinely funny. This is the type of podcast that will make you laugh and kill off a character in the very same episode, and while these abrupt tonal shifts are common in this podcast, it only occasionally felt out of place. Also, so. many. pop culture. references. I swear to god, there are more pop culture references per minute than there are in Deadpool and it is a thing to behold. If you aren’t as familiar with a lot of sci-fi media, it can take some getting used to, but for me, at least, they didn’t detract from the story. 

So, yeah, if you like Deep Space Nine, The Martian, or fantastic characters and a good plot that just so happen to be set in space, I would 110% recommend at least the first season of this show. Even if you only have a passing interest in sci-fi or have never listened to an audio drama before, I can guarantee there’s something in here for you to love. 

#wolf 359 #podcast review #podcast reviews #audio drama #audio fiction #podcast recs #podcast recommendations #doug eiffel #alexander hilbert #renee minkowski #isabel lovelace #w359 hera #w359 review #alana maxwell #daniel jacobi #warren kepler #podcasts #podcast

[nicknellie]

@ace-bookworm requested: Monk Luke set in the Flarrie village

Congrats, bestie, this is officially the weirdest request I’ve ever received and also the weirdest thing I’ve ever written! I have literally no idea what any of this is but I had fun though, and it’s longer than I thought I’d be able to get it. You’d better enjoy it ajskdfjfjk

That Other Life

It was a bright, sunny day in the village of Flarrie. In the height of summer, the days were stretched to seemingly infinite sunlight, the fields buzzed with the hum of wildlife, birds sang the residents awake each morning, and the village was aglow with the giddy summer joy of all those who lived there. In every corner of the village, people were basking in the summer sun, enjoying every moment while it lasted. But the same could not be said for the monks of the Monastery of Flarrie. They couldn’t shirk their responsibilities and obligations just because the sun was out.

Then again, there would always be one who shirked his responsibilities and obligations no matter the weather.

Luke Patterson had become a monk because… well, even he wasn’t really sure. It was the only life he could remember, living at the monastery with the other monks, taking each repetitive day as it came. Part of him quite liked the routine and order of it all, but he often found himself longing for another life, one where he wasn’t mostly confined to the walls of the monastery, one where he could make something of himself.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the other monks how restless Luke got. He struggled to maintain focus when copying out extract upon extract or embellishing the first letter of each page. He typically wandered off when doing certain chores, getting bored of mucking out the animals and instead ending up in his quarters, or on one memorable occasion, deep in the forest with no idea where he was. He would get so lost in his own head while doing chores like peeling the vegetables and preparing dinner that it had resulted in injury and him breaking his vow of silence multiple times.

Though, Monk Luke breaking his vow of silence had become such a common occurrence that none of the other monks even bothered reprimanding him anymore. If Monk Luke wanted to talk, he would talk, and there was little that could be done to shut him up. He had also taken to singing from a very young age – it was more acceptable, because at least that way they could just send him to choir practise, but it was infuriating when Monk Luke would hum or sing under his breath and not even notice he was doing it.

One of the older monks had been the first to suggest getting him an instrument in the hopes that it would distract him enough to keep him quiet. So they had hand-crafted him a lute, and lo and behold, Monk Luke took to it like a baby to a bottle. Soon enough, the most common sound to break the silence in the monastery was not Monk Luke’s incessant chattering, but rather the gentle sound of him plucking at the strings of his lute, committing song after song to muscle memory, looking happier as he did it than any of the other monks had ever seen him.

That was until Monk Luke graduated from lullabies and prayer songs to rock. None of the other monks had ever heard rock songs played on the lute, but it soon became the most familiar sound in their lives. Seeing Monk Luke rocking out with his lute in the middle of a random hallway became as commonplace as seeing a bird nesting in a tree.

Monk Luke was all too aware that the other monks regarded him with some distaste. He knew that he wasn’t exactly the perfect image of what a monk should be. He knew that his habit of apologising to the powers that be for accidentally forgetting to do his chores around the monastery or breaking his vow of silence was not anything close to simply not forgetting to do those things in the first place. And he had tried, he had really tried to be a good monk. It just wasn’t his thing.

He thought that maybe his thing, the life he was really longing for, the life where he would make something of himself, would be a life where he lived as a rockstar.

But that, he knew, was impossible.

One day, Luke found himself sat out front of the monastery, dejectedly picking at the strings of his lute, humming a little tune under his breath. Sometimes he wondered if he could simply run away. The monks would definitely notice his absence, but he was so bad at being a monk that maybe they wouldn’t go looking for him. Maybe he could take off his robes and run into the village, find himself a cute little cottage to live in and kickstart his music career. Maybe instead of a lute he could get himself a guitar.

Or maybe there was a gap in the market for a rockstar who played the lute.

Monk Luke was so caught up in his own thoughts that he hardly registered the fact that someone had approached him and sat down by his side. He turned to them, assuming it was another one of the monks, come to coax him back inside and get him started on his chores, but he was mistaken. No, this was no monk, this was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

She had a soft smile on her face, her deep brown eyes glowing with friendly mirth, her curls of dark brown hair tumbling elegantly over her shoulders and lifting ever so slightly in the gentle summer breeze. She had a quietly kind look on her face, nose scrunched adorably, eyes crinkled as she smiled.

The fact that she was smiling at him specifically made Luke’s heart soar.

“Hi,” she said. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to talk, but I wanted to talk to you anyway. My name’s Julie. I could hear you playing from the village, I think the wind carried it. It sounds beautiful. You’re really good at playing the lute.”

Monk Luke had told himself he was going to be good that day, not break his vow of silence, not shirk his obligations. He had told himself he was going to just get on with it, make himself do as he was supposed to. But there was simply no way he could not reply to the wicked beauty sat beside him.

“Thank you,” he said. Julie blinked in surprise when he spoke, but he just shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ve never been good at keeping my vow of silence. It’s why the other monks got me this.” He gestured vaguely to his lute. “To try and keep me quiet.”

“I guess it didn’t work,” Julie said with a little laugh.

“Not even a little bit,” Luke confirmed. “Do you like music?”

Julie nodded, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. As a monk, Luke would never be allowed to marry or even have a relationship, but the way streaks of golden sun threw her into her own personal spotlight was stunning. She was stunning. Luke had never longed for that other life more than he did now.

“I play piano and I sing,” Julie told him. A brighter smile graced her features. “Maybe we could do a little duet? I could sing while you play your lute.”

And so that was what they did. Luke played a careful little tune while Julie improvised her own lyrics over the top of it. Their sounds met beautifully, colliding to form a song better than any Luke had created by himself. He never wanted it to end.

After a while, Julie stood up and offered Luke a hand. He let her pull him to his feet, their hands lingering together for longer than was probably necessary. The flutter of his heart and the smile on his face betrayed the true excitement he felt just from touching her.

“I could show you around the village if you’d like?” Julie offered, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

It wasn’t often that Luke was lost for words, but now he was. He simply nodded and followed Julie down from the monastery to the village. Luke had never been allowed down to the village, there had never been any reason for him to go, but now that he saw what he was missing it was all he wanted forever. There was row upon row of strawberry plants in almost every field they walked by, a gentle creek ran through the centre of the village and was broken apart only by cobblestoned bridges, a gorgeous green forest bracketed the village, and everywhere Luke went people looked happy.

He had known the village of Flarrie was meant to be a joyous place, but he had never imagined it anything quite like this. Quaint cottages, endless fields, farms and vegetable patches, a community garden, and even livestock roaming the streets (he almost walked slap-bang into a cow when he was too fixated on watching the running of the stream). All the while, Julie pointed things out to him, told him stories of her best friends – Flynn and Carrie, who owned the village, and Reggie, Alex, and Willie, all of whom were apparently very into music too – and she kept asking if he liked it, if he was happy.

When Luke told her he was happy, he meant it more than he ever had.

Eventually, when the summer sun was setting, Luke realised he had to get back to the monastery. But he gave one last promise to himself and to Julie.

He promised that one day he would leave the monastery and come to live in the village, where he was certain he belonged.

#i love and hate this is equal measure #enjoy bestie happy six months #julie molina #jatp #luke patterson #juke #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #monk luke #izzy tag #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #writing #my writing #crack fic

[imasimpforstevengrant]

Why do we like this clown so much?

Change the "we" for "I" and you get an usual tag I use whenever I post my content in Tumblr. And it sounds funny at first but whenever you start diving into that phrase, the deeper it becomes. So, I finally have decided to share my thoughts about this strange but wholesome attraction to this deeply flawed character. It's not something I usually do since I don't know how to write down my feelings properly and also in english so please forgive any typos (I'm from Chile so don't be surprised lol).

So...Why do we like this clown so much?

Why was it that a character precisely designed to scare and to disgust the fuck out of us ended up unchaining a series of feelings that shouldn't have taken place in a beginning?

Let's take a look at the background: Joaquin Phoenix was cast as Arthur Fleck/Joker in 2018. The first image of him as the aforementioned character revealed a deeply disturbed man. We knew the plot. A man driven to insanity after a brutal history of abuse, creating concern in people if the upcoming film would inspire real life violence. Incel violence and mass shootings, more specifically.

(the image in question)

As 2019 arrives, the two trailers generated so much hype that media needed to fuel its concern about it. Since it wasn't your typical comic book film, media basically bombed our minds making us believe this film was going to be a total disaster, an excuse to cause harm to others among other nonsense, as if the film would justify everything Arthur would do in the film, eventually. As the release date is closer, the film receives thunderous applause and unanimous praise from critics. At this, fans rejoiced and expressed impatience to watch the film.

October 5th.

People left the theaters amazed, shocked and genuinely moved by the inhuman treatment Arthur received in the film. The fear media tried so desperately to infuse in us with all the incel bullshit and such turned out to awake one of the most positive, best feelings in humans:

E M P A T H Y

The word that so gloriously cleared away any dark thoughts or actions not only proves media was wrong but it turned out to ridicule it in way nobody will forget: Hundreds of people advocating for mental illness, calling out to the kindness that could change a person's bad day and questioning how politicians and rich people are indifferent to social problems proved how much as a society we have changed in comparison with the one shown in the film.

However, since we are on Tumblr, I'll get straight to the point and try to explain why the fuck does this clown has us dying out of love and compassion (and lust).

I. Background.

As nurturing as we women are for a biological matter, we see a man deprived of a good job, is on seven different medications, working like a slave to sustain his ill mother, putting aside his own health and well-being to look for her, struggling to make his dream of being a comedian despite everyone stepping on him, underpaid and treated like a freak for a disorder he did not ask to suffer, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to all the horrible ordeal that eventually will reach the limit of what he can tolerate without going insane. It is impossible to not say or think, at least, that someone (even if it's just one person) should stand for him just as it is impossible not to feel the need to throw ourselves at him to shield him from people who hurt him or simply offer him our shoulder whenever he has had a bad day, specially when he learns he was sexually assaulted by his step father.

This horrid behaviour terrifies newer generations because they get a taste of what being a social outcast was like more than thirty years ago in comparison with today, where there's more acceptance and treatment for mentally ill people like Arthur. We see in him someone who could have been saved with a proper education and emotional support instead of descending into madness as a criminal. Others simply saw themselves being treated like him at some point in their lives and couldn't help but put themselves in his shoes.

II. Personality.

TRUTH BE TOLD:

There's something called "attraction by proximity". It is the explanation to the eventual love you feel whenever someone doesn't catch your eye at first terms of physical attraction but his/her personality does attract you. This happens to be the base of this situation. His shyness, introverted nature, tenderness and innocent desire to make people laugh and put on a happy face awake some kind of tenderness we cannot resist. This combined with the gloomy background increases our understanding (but not justifying) of the bad decisions he'll eventually take during the course of the film. This traces a line of harsh, almost hurtful contrast of the violence he shows later on the film. Once again, it is not justified in any way but it is certainly understandable.

III. Appearance.

Arthur Fleck is unconventionally attractive.

This happens to be a plus for most women. He is out of the male beauty standards (no abs, not too muscly or particularly tall), which makes him even more unique. It is precisely the fact that he's not a model one of the reasons women love him. He could easily be your man next door or your colleague or the guy you always see but never dare to talk for fear to bother him Because it's about proximity. Arthur looks like your common neighbour. He's not meant to be your typical desirable male protagonist at all.

... And yet.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking hot I can't even---

It's not about how beautiful his green eyes are, his long slender fingers, his hair or his smile only. It's the charm behind it.

Another "magnet point" is the way he dresses. I know he's impoverished and his wardrobe tend to be repetitive but it is so unpretentious, so simple that is hard to not fall for. The modesty of the shirts, ironed trousers reminds us of a mature man deeply withdrawn into himself, love starved and longing to be seen and loved by others, like a war veteran who still fights the most important war: with himself. Is someone who needs to be listened and understood.

AND OF COURSE WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE ABOUT IT?

He's also brought back the old gentleman outfit, white shirts, red/yellow vest, red suit and elegant dancing moves and the retro style of the film boosts this attractiveness.

People keep comparing him with the previous interpretation of Joker (Leto's) whose costume appealed to young women with a tattooed, gangster, mumble rapper crazy-guy wannabe which didn't connect with the audiences (young people in general). This supposedly was to match or even have a sexy, tormented and desirable villain like Marvel's Loki. We all know how that story ended but it's the link for the next point below.

IV. Transformation

This is a particularly strong point considering how much we loved to watch the process of this weak, powerless, forgotten caterpillar into a beautiful and visible butterfly that will gracefully stir its wings for everyone to see its colours.

When Arthur transitions to the Joker, it's so cathartic to see taking revenge on those who wronged him (even when we're not supposed to root for him) like seeing his shyness fading away into a vivid confidence when dancing half naked in the bathroom, or witnessing him making way to make his name known to people in Murray Franklin's Show:

Adding to this newly gained confidence, there's another turn on: the way he walks.

At the beginning, his pace is hunched and limping, displaying his submission to violence, which makes the viewer more satisfied to see his broken yet beautiful soul turning the past pain of his existence into art: he lets music guide his moves as a way to tell the world he's a new man by cutting most of the sick, evil roots that harmed him, that he's invincible, that no one can stop him. Watching this cathartic display of euphoria was the most iconic scene in the film, following his speech at the TV and the inevitable meltdown that caused Murray's death.

Going to further appreciation, even his clown make up is beautiful. Why? Simple. The combination of colours, shapes and the intimidating glare just embellishes even more the character.

The dark blue triangles in his expressive eyes makes the light green colour to highlight, specially in dark backgrounds, giving the impression he's piercing your soul whenever he stares directly at the camera. Same can be said about the red smile and emerald green hair. They boost an already intimidating look.

The cold and warm colours paint a picture of a man full of intense emotions, mirroring it in a simple yet masterful artistic way.

Another interesting point is the way Joker dresses. Usually we had almost every single live adaption of this character in purple coat, hat, etc. But this particular version is not following any comic, which gives more freedom to creativity and once again, out of the standards of what we could have expected.

Red is a colour related to passion, action, love, strength, motivation and excitement. As for yellow, it indicates freshness, happiness and enlightenment and finally, green. Green is renewal, growth and regeneration. Colours that represent a new stage in his life, a mirthful chapter at last. We finally get to see our battered, always humiliated protagonist (or hero) descending into madness, but finally free from his repressed man who held his soul captive like a bird to fly away, to never come back. An insanity that despite being his downfall, turned out to be his ticket to freedom as he walks to the light in Arkham Asylum dancing at the end.

Ladies and gentlemen: behold the film nobody asked... But the film we fucking deserved.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

❤️💚💛

#joker movie #the joker #joker film #joker 2019 #2019 joker #joker joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix #joaquin is so hot omg #dcedit #dc comics #he's so beautiful #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck #Arthur Fleck is I C O N I C #clown daddy #why do i like this clown so much? #i love this clown so much #hes baby #hes so pretty #omg hes so cute #protecc him plz #plz protecc #plz hug him #lol sorry #i had to #this movie gives me life #this man will be the death of me #i can't get enough of this dude #i can't get enough of this babe #arthur fleck x reader

[dracula-in-purple-story]

Trick and Treat

The benefits of being underground heroes means no one would recognise you. A fact that three certain heroes (plus a sentient quirk) exploit it mercilessly. 

Halloween. An event where people of all kinds get to excuse themselves for pranks and indulged themselves with tooth-rotting candy. It’s also a certain event where two gothic-theme heroes are free to cursed their mothers for bringing them to life far too soon or far too late.

“That’s not a reason to cursed my in-laws, Fumi, Shi.” Shoji Mezou huffed before turning two of his appendages to mouths as to pecked his gloomy husbands. Shoji-Tokoyami Fumikage, who draped himself with a dark cloak and held a handmade scythe, fumed pettily alongside with Shoji-Kuroiro Shihai, who decided to wrapped themselves an equally as black bandages.

“Mezou love, I didn’t agree to marry you to hear you stand in defence for our mothers who let us down for the first time in the beginning of our lives.”

“Fumi’s right in a way. If only they could at least put in more effort on giving birth before the sacred event had ended-”

“Or wait a bit more longer-”

“Okay, guys. I kinda didn’t agree to waste my day off on listening to your brooding. So, could we get moving?” Ojiro Tooru wiggled around in her plain-white cloth while exaggerated her frustration, earning some laughs among her husbands.

“Take care and have fun, Ruru,” Mashirao softly spoke as he setting up the makeshift pillow fort around Hitoshi. The Ojiro husbands decided to spend their rare day off to watch horror marathon with the main Shoji patriarch. 

The invisible lady just giggled before dragging off the other Shoji husbands for their play dates. Mezou waved them off, even blew the sentient quirk a kiss back, before settling down besides the pillow fort. 

“Five thousand yens they come back with more candies than they are allow to have.”

“Six thousand.”

“Bet.”

“Toshi! Mezou!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Any gummy packets? All I got is candy corns.” the boy with four arms and dressed as Red Riot grimaced.

“Nope, I only got two packets of strawberry marshmallows and some Miruko-branded carrot candies, Red Riot Junior. What about you, Deku Junior?” the green-skinned girl dressed as Shemage quietly answered before glancing at the bulking boy with scales that dressed as the Symbol of Hope.

He smirked before lifting up his bucket, making the other kids jaw dropped. In there, three huge packets of Bakusquad-branded fruity gummies, five king-sized Fatgum-branded chocolate bars, two swirly red and white lollipops, and a box of bite-sized candy bars themed after Pre-Debut UA Class A.

“Impressive, huh?”

“No jokes, Ken- I mean, Deku Junior! How?!” the Red Riot ‘Junior’ tried to reach out before getting his hand slapped by the now-sneering boy.

“Don’t touch it! Anyways, I just roamed around the neighbourhood that filled with old farts who got too much money to spend. One glance at my mega awesome costume then they throwing me prizes after prizes!” The scaly boy exclaimed proudly as he showed off his goods, “Wish you have this amazing influence than some two-bits characters you two decided to dressed as!”

“You got some nerves insulting the chivalrous hero and the mushroom heroine, kid.” All three kids quickly turned towards the voice down the alley. Seeing that it’s someone who decided that draping a white blanket is a good enough costume, the boy scoffed rudely.

���What, blanket girlie, you think you have the rights to tell me off when you have a lame ass costume?” “Wrong, it’s an awesome costume!” the blanket girlie huffed out her chest proudly, “You just didn’t see what is under these ghost sheets.”

“Ghost sheets?” the green girl snickered, “Yeah, right.”

“Why don’t we check it out, eh?” the four-arms boy grinned at the Deku cosplayer, who smirked back as he reached out to pull the sheets. As he did so, the kids paled. There is... nothing under the sheet. Not even the girl who is supposed to be draped over. 

Suddenly, eerie radio screeches can be heard behind the ghost(?). Two little lights are flashing red at where the head are supposed to be located. The lackeys, scared out of their wits, dropped their buckets as they ran away, leaving the leader behind. 

“You took a look under my sheet, and now...” the ghost(?) floated even higher, “YOU HAVE BEEN CURSED! MUAHAHAHA!”

“AAAAA!” the scaly brute dashed off immediately after throwing his bucket at the ghost(?). As the boy disappeared down the street, Tooru immediately emptied out the buckets into her Invisible Bag, which is almost filled to the brimmed with her delicious loots. Hearing another group of little trick-or-treaters coming in her way, she immediately set into her position.

~~~~~~~~~~

This is just plain stupid. This horror story telling is too repetitive. The dead girl in the toilet. The spooky piano that plays on its own. The suicide forest. Sure they can scared and spooked Hanako at first but listening to these stories over and over again seems to lose its charm.

Her peers didn’t seem to think so. Sitting in a badly formed circle in the middle of an empty park with an electric candle right in the middle of the said circle. Some third-rated spooky music supposedly to put people in the mood to get scared. 

“... and there she sat, drinking the boy’s blood like a drug!”

“You sure this is a true story? Sounds fake.”

“Totes not! Search ‘blood drinking girl’, man!”

Even if it’s a true story, Hanako doubt the legality of the story. If this T.H. girl supposedly love this guy, she should kill those girls instead of the boy. Eh, she shouldn’t question it.

“Sooooo, who’s next?”

“Can I have a turn?” 

“Sure!”

A husky voice chuckled, making the horror-numb girl trembled. That was new to her, not one of her peers sound like that. Even her seat partners shivered too.

“Let’s see, anyone ever heard of a certain narcissistic man who killed anyone who said he’s ugly?”

Oh, this is new. Perhaps her peers didn’t disappoint her yet. After affirmation, the rasping voice continued. Due to the light is too dimmed, she was unable to see who’s telling the tale with such voice.

“There was once a man, with a face no one could ever compare to. His visual is second to none. Women praised him, loved him, worshipped him. Men hated him, cursed him, and some even fell for him.”

Hanako lighted up. A total original story! She listened with rapt attention, ignoring how her horny peers groaned and moaned at the suggestively rough voice.

“One unfortunate event is all it took for people to turned away from the man. An arson planned by envious men who couldn’t take it anymore, seeing their supposedly lawful spouses dreamed and loved a man that isn’t them. How envy drove them mad. The damage is dealt. His entire body is burnt to crisps and yet, he lived.”

The music stopped. Before the person in charge of it could fix it, it suddenly played an ominous song that she had never heard before. She didn’t know that the harsh-sounding peer have good taste in music. 

“Truly unfortunate it is. The once handsome man lost all his supporters in one whole swoop. His haters jeered and hurling faux-pity at him. He couldn’t take it anymore. Wrapped in his measly black-burnt bandages, he asked each and every single one of the people, ‘Am I handsome? Am I gorgeous?’. People jabbed jokes at him before they get stabbed to death.”

Hanako is curling into her jacket as the air getting chilly. Weird, as inattentive as she was, no one have a quirk related to wind. Now she think about it, not even one of them have a husky voice, even the her male peers are just getting their puberty hit on them.

“One by one, they dropped to their death. Even children and the senile were not spared. The man went mad with his vanity spiralled out. He asked, he cried, he stabbed. Then, he came onto a group of teens who sat around in a circle telling stories after stories. Can I ask?”

The girl suddenly felt dread coursed over her body. She thinks some of her peers piss themselves. Before anyone could react, the electrical candle went off. Hanako quickly reached out to turned it on and, lo and behold, a man wrapped in black-burnt bandages stood in the middle of the circle.

“Am I handsome?” the man who owned said husky voice gleamed at them with flashing black eyes, “Am I... gorgeous?”

Screams could be heard throughout the neighbourhood. When people found the source of said scream, teens would either huddled up or straight up fainted. The only thing missing among them are the candies they collected. Hanako might cried a bit, but whoever that man is, he earned himself a fan.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Happy Halloween!” 

Waving off the kids, Mrs Gokudera beamed at her almost empty candy-bowl. Ever since her grandkids started their high schools, they almost never visit her in this lonely home, which makes this holiday truly joyful. Just as she was about to filled the candy-bowl with her homemade striped candy balls, her doorbell rang. Sighing blissfully, she opened up the door.

Instead of little children, few masked people appeared the other side of the door. Mrs Gokudera usually pleased to see that other people enjoyed the good old trick-or-treating but her quirk, Intentions, alerted her as she saw them with dangerously black aura. 

“Heya, old lady. Trick or-”

“Definitely trick, imbeciles.”

Interrupting the one who started to sprouted blades out of their arms, the group of masked people turned towards the other side. Mrs Gokudera couldn’t see who it was as the malicious people blocked her sights but she saw a white aura coming out from that person. Knowing she was in good hands, she immediately slammed her door and dialled the police. As she dare peeked out of the window, she gawked at a hooded figure fighting against people with an obviously fake scythe and a manifested shadow(?) that seems to basked in the chaos.

When the police arrived, the fight is over. The hooded figure and his shadow companion came out unscathed but his prop is broken. Sensing his frustration through a grey aura, Mrs Gokudera beckoned the bird-headed figure, who seems to finished his statement to the police.

“Hello, dearie. You okay?”

“Don’t worry, madam. We are perfectly fine. Although we had to cut short our fun due to this unholy festive spirits that decided to bother you.” the hooded figure solemnly nodded.

“Oh dear. Sorry to cause you trouble.”

The shadow companion seems to beamed at her loudly, “Don’t worry, lady! We are heroes! This is nothing!”

Ah, that explains why the police didn’t bother him for vigilantism. Clearing her thoughts up, she thanked him by giving most of her stashes. It’s really funny seeing how the bird-headed hero humbly accepted while the shadow just cackled in delight as they dumped the wrapped candy balls into their goody bags.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We are back, hubbies!”

“Welcome ba- why are there ten gigantic bags? Did you guys steal them?”

The three trick-or-treaters sheepishly chuckled as they got stared down by the tail hero. Behind Mashirao, Mezou handed a few paper money to Hitoshi, who tried to snickered quietly before got stared down by his disappointed husband too.

#Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #Shoji Mezo #Tokoyami Fumikage #Hagakure Tooru #Ojiro Mashirao #Shinso Hitoshi #Kuroiro Shihai #Shotoko #Shitoko #Shokuro #Shotokokuro #Shinoji #Ojitooru #Shintooru #Shinojitooru #draculainpurple