#It was her former imaginary friend

[cateyedfox36]

Don't Look under the Bed

The town: Francis we caught you doing this!

Francis:

#Don't look under the bed #Wasn't me #Disney original movie #But no it literally wasn't her! #It was her former imaginary friend #Who became the boogeyman #Because she stopped believing in her too soon #No seriously this movie is bonkers

[vadersassistant]

Hiiii

wo dering if you could do an enemies to lover anakin imagine. kind of like friends to enemies to lovers or something like that and it ends in them making out o whatever you are comfortable with.

Anyways thank youuu

Denial One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)

Summary: After venturing into a Sith Temple to try and find an edge on the current war, (Y/N) meets her enemy, Lord Vader, the man who killed her best friend and secret lover. He has been hunting both her and her alias down for months, following her across the galaxy, but little does she know, he has no plans to kill her. Takes place in the temple seen in the Star Wars Rebels season two finale. Reader was previously a Jedi and is in hiding due to order 66.

Warnings: Make out session

A/N: (Y/N) does not know Vader is Anakin, and Vader does not know (Y/N) is the Fugitive he has been searching for. This is once again a mix of suited Vader and nightfall Vader. In which, Vader wears the suit and mask, but he can take it off and looks like the Anakin we know and love.

The temple was eerie, an odd feeling passing by with each step you took. It was the opposite of the one I grew up in, representing everything I was told to dislike, and yet I was here anyways. I had made up my mind to fight instead of continuing to run from the problem. I wasn’t a rebel, but I wasn’t an imperial either. I was the middle ground, a former Jedi with a new identity, a mask to shield my face so that I could live freely, but the saber still gave it away. I was good, too good to be a civilian having fun with an old relic, even though some still used them publicly. Some, as in him.

The Jedi fell and Lord Vader rose out of thin air. There was no preface, no foreshadowing, he just came, and everyone bowed their heads.

To outsiders he was a military leader trained in combat, who happened to use an imaginary power. To force users, like Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and I, he was a Sith. We all knew it the second he began hunting us down. He wanted the Jedi dead and made it clear when he began searching for my alias as well. Everyone knew who she was, I was put on every single imperial security watch available, but I evaded it all I could. I forged a new saber, so that they couldn’t track me that way, and told people about how the female jedi on the Holonets from the clone wars died. The only people who truly knew were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, since they too had done something similar. He was Ben, she was Ashla, and I gained the name Fugitive, a mask being the only way to keep track of my identity.

I couldn’t count how many storm-troopers I had killed by now, just that I did. I was forced to, to keep myself alive, because he wanted me turned in. I was always told to run, to flee from Vader because of what he’s done, but all I wanted was for the man to wind up dead. A lust for revenge had developed ever since I learned what he did to my best friend, Anakin Skywalker.

I don’t even know how he could have killed a warrior like him, but he did and now he’s gone. Slaughtered like any other while trying to save people in the temple, something someone with his character would have done naturally. The worst part is that everyone he was trying to save is dead too, and that he could have escaped with us, had he not done what he did. He had a wife, Senator Amidala, a good friend of mine, who also died that night, although I wasn’t sure if they ended on good terms.

The two had been arguing for a while, he believed she was cheating on him with Obi Wan, although she continued to deny it along with everyone else. I was the only one who he talked to about his problems willingly, even Kenobi would have to go through reading his mind to talk about personal issues. It was only when Anakin died that the truth came out, that being that Anakin was right, and she was seeing Kenobi.

I hadn’t recognized him after that point. I knew he was afraid he would be kicked out of the Jedi order if we found out he was dating another woman. Even further, the fact he knowingly was allowing the affair to happen, but it occurred anyways, and he lost everything with it. That was consequence enough, he didn’t need me to yell at him any further for going that far.

Still, I was angry, because I cared about Anakin.

And also loved him.

I denied it for years, the helpless prodding’s from Ahsoka when the two of us would spend hours upon hours with each other. We carried out the entire war effort, working extremely close together on missions. It was no surprise that I liked him, he had even mentioned subtly what things would be like if he hadn’t met her. It sounded like he regretted it, but I had no clue, due to us being force users.

I now stood in front of the man who took him away, the one that gutted him in the chest like a fish with no care whatsoever. The man that had been hunting me down under both my names since the night of the fall, the one that was known for murdering everyone in his path. I don’t know how he found me, I had a feeling we were being followed, but I didn’t care. We needed the Holocron inside of the temple, and Ahsoka now had it in hand. I could sense their distraught, both behind me looking at the Sith in front of us. They didn’t want to fight him; they were afraid to fight him. I felt differently, looking at his mask through the visors of my own.

“It was foretold that you would be here, our long-awaited meeting has come at last."

“This meeting is over,” Ahsoka said.

“Are you so sure?” the Sith questioned through the modulated voice his mask provided him, as I stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked me, his breath becoming short.

“Leave."

“No," he shook his head. "Don’t do this."

“Leave. Now.”

I looked up at the temple’s ceiling as the walls started to drop down. It was collapsing on itself, since the Holocron had been taken from the Obelisk. There wasn’t much to do, but I knew I didn’t want to pull them into this. I turned around and outstretched a hand.  

Ahsoka screamed as I force pushed both her and Obi-Wan back while the temple’s walls crashed down. I saw her figure fly back just before the drop and felt her gently land. There was a ship, they could leave, I would worry about myself after I killed him.

“We’re finishing this here,” I said. "I know you've been hunting me for the past months."

“You are courageous, unlike your friends,” the Sith mused. “Hateful.”

“You killed my best friend," I pointed out. "I want you to experience that same pain."

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he reminded. "Your confidence dilutes your ability to make rational decisions."

“I am no Jedi.”

“Then who are you? Your saber is unlike any I have ever seen, an identity successfully hidden behind a helm.”

“That’s none of your business, why have you been hunting me?” I asked. I felt the pressure of the Dark Side creeping against my mind's barriers, he was trying to invade.

“You would make a wonderful apprentice in the dark side,” Vader said. "You have already abandoned your training as a Jedi."

“I don’t side with murderers.”

“And yet you are one. I have seen your way of fighting Fugitive; you have killed countless of our troops and inquisitors.”

“Your Inquisitorious is an embarrassment, and I will never join you, not after what you did,” I called my saber to my hand, igniting it.

“Then you will die.”

There was this feeling of fear that attempted to wash over me, like he was attempting to throw me off, but I wasn't thinking about it anymore.

I ran full speed at him, force pushing myself up off the ground and into the air to try and put myself on the offensive. My blade met his right over his helmet, as he angled me back and I landed behind him. My automatic response was to try and swing for his legs, a move he evaded but had been surprised by. I knew I needed to be careful with how I played things. He would try and tire me out by just playing the defensive, but I also didn’t get that tired frow much stamina I built up during the war. Vader was also bigger, and stronger, meaning I’d need to use his weight to my advantage. I was quick, less stable, and grounded, and more agile in my movements.

We continued to take shots at each other, as he seemingly began to test me. It was a constant switch from the right to the left, bashing at each other from different angles and walking along with it. It was something Anakin and I always did, and it almost felt familiar. For whatever reason, I could feel myself getting into the rhythm Skywalker and I got into when we would train every day. After a certain point I would always switch my grip and force him to back off, and I did it purely out of muscle memory, shoving the Sith back.

“Your anger focuses you,” he commented. “Join me and I can enhance that power.”

“You killed him, the man I loved, do you truly believe I would ever consider that?”

“He is gone for a reason,” Vader said.

“He was the chosen one!” I shouted, interlocking lightsabers in a pursuit for power over the other. "You know why he lost his life?! Because he was trying to save everyone else, instead of actually caring for himself for once."

“(Y/N)."

I stumbled back immediately, hearing that name leave his mouth,

"What?"

My eyes widened beneath the visors, letting my guard down for just a moment.

It was all he needed.

I felt his immense force break through my walls and invade my mind, clawing through my memories and thoughts like a file. Not only that, but he immediately took me to the ground. It was quick, as he now straddled me, muscular thighs resting over my lower waist. Both my arms were pinned to either side with by the force, my saber in his hand.

I grunted, struggling under him and thrusting against his cod piece hoping it would make him budge but it barely made a difference. I couldn’t do a thing, as the Sith reached for my mask and pressed down on the sides. I felt it depressurize, as his gloved digits lifted it off my head, and I looked into his mask with my own eyes.

"How do you know my name?" I asked angrily as I fought underneath him to free myself.

There was no way of telling what he truly felt in that moment, holding the helm silently, breathing being the only indication he was still alive. I continued to try and do everything to get out of his grasp, but the Sith only sat there and took me in, his body heat lingering over my own. I felt like a mess, wondering where Ahsoka and Obi-Wan might be right now, realizing why Anakin lost his life to this man. I didn’t know how he knew my name, my real name, the one that no one had called me in months. I was fully pinned down, not giving up until I saw him reach for his own helmet.

"What are you do—"

My throat ran dry, amber eyes piercing through my body like a blade.

"Anakin."

It was him, with brown hair that held golden streaks just above his armor.

"(Y/N)."

Hearing his voice sent a shiver down my entire back, as I shuddered underneath him.

“I thought you died—they said Vader killed you—" there were tears welling up in my eyes, looking up at him.

“I am alive."

“Why did you turn?"

“The Jedi council was using us, Obi-Wan lied to me about Padme (Y/N), they were having an affair. But you know that already.”

“Obi Wan told us,” I trailed off.

“I know.”

“Do you plan to kill me?”

“No, that was never my intent," he emphasized lowly.

“So, what will you do?” I questioned.

“After separating myself from the order, I reflected much upon it,” Anakin started. "And came to terms with several of my mistakes."

“What mistakes?”

Still straddling me Anakin leaned down, placing his hands by either sides of my head and lowering himself to my ear.

“I was blindly dating filthy senator, when I had the love of my life right next to me the entire time."

"What do you mean?" I emphasized each word, my abdomen tensing as he got so close to me.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of my future and imagine you by my side. I told myself it was our strong bond causing me to think of you constantly, due to the amount of time we spent together, but now, I feel completely different."

"Anakin," my heart was racing, as he continued to whisper into my ear.

"Maker, I missed you so much."

He was just trying to be friendly, that's all this was.

"Now, I know you are not that naive," he let out a deep chuckle, reading my mind.

"Is this your way of coercing me into joining the dark side?" I said softly, trying to play it off.

"There is no need to coerce you (Y/N), your heart is already doing all the work," Anakin told me. "All there is to do is to make up for lost time."

"No.."

"Continuing to deny it is only stalling the inevitable," he spoke in a playful way. "Your hatred towards the one you believed to be my killer only proves it more."

"I—" I cut myself off, as Anakin moved his head, now right over mine.

"What is it?" he asked me, his golden eyes flicking from my lips up to my eyes in quick fashion.

I gave in, nodding to his silent question and feeling the force lift off my hands.

Anakin pressed his lips to mine as I lifted my head up and met him midway. His robotic hand came down to my waist, the other combing through my hair as he helped hold my head steady. It was delicate and prepared, goosebumps crawling over my skin as his weight pressed me onto the cold temple floors. He was an expert in the way he worked around my mouth, the first time I had ever kissed anyone to begin with.

To think such a sacred place would be ruined due to our own shenanigans.

A Jedi and a Sith, making out in a temple with no care for sentiment.

His lips were chapped yet soft, and the more breaths we took between kissing the more swollen they became. Anakin didn’t seem to care though, continuing to go down on my neck allowing me to breath. He wasn’t going too far, but it was enough for the occasion, leaving marks I that wouldn’t leave for days.

It was madness.

Everything around us screamed in pleasure, the force happily chiming along with the two sides agreeing on something, even if it wasn’t an argument. Anakin had changed, and I couldn’t decide if it was for better or for worse.

If only those two could see me now, making love to the man that we had been running from for months. The copious amounts of rage had turned to attraction in a blink of an eye, rejoicing in his presence as my hand pressed against his tunic and I felt his abdomen underneath the fabric. He was such light and yet the darkness itself, drowning me in it as we sunk into a pool of ecstasy.

The cold stone floors were soon heated, as the temple grew humid and we both simultaneously agreed to take our tops off. It was the definition of multitasking, as I took off his armor and tunic, leaving behind a black pair of pants, and his boots. With the force he slipped my top off, gaining access to my collar bone and gracing it with his mouth. There was a possessive feeling in the air, as he took in my body for the first time with his own eyes as I did to him.

"You are so beautiful, it is intoxicating."

I felt myself smiling, sitting up and wrapping my arms around his neck, the both of us kissing deeply. This was it, holding our breath as we enjoyed one another, but the force was warning the both of us.

The temple shook, I almost forgot it was collapsing.

"We need to escape before we become trapped inside," Anakin said. "My ship is outside."

"And you assume I'm coming?"

"I know you are."

I laughed, acknowledging his foresight. We put on our clothes hurriedly yet thoroughly, as someone trained to handle life or death would. In truth, that was what we stood for, as Jedi and Sith both came together as one, in ways that would be frowned upon.

Except we didn't care.

We weren't denying it any longer.

Back in business since the recent Ahsoka episode. Hope you all enjoyed!

#darth vader x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader x y/n #darth vader x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin x reader #suitless darth vader x reader

[paragonrobits]

More fun Calvin and Hobbes facts!

Not only is Hobbes NOT an imaginary friend by word of the comic's creator, Bill Watterson, but he doesn't seem to know what an imaginary friend is, nor that plush toys in general are actually toys; Susie Derkins (a girl Calvin has complicated feelings about and tends to randomly alternate between prosecuting a rivalry between the two of them and seeming to regard her as a friend or at least someone he bothers talking to) has a plush bunny she calls Mr Bun, and Hobbes at one point notes with some concern that he seems comatose.

The comic was well known for its lavish backgrounds, and two chiefly notable examples include the woods around Calvin's house and the landscapes of his imagination; in the former, he and Hobbes often go exploring, sledding or racing around on a little red wagon, often while expressing philosophical insights (usually ending in Calvin crashing into something in a way that underscores the point of the dialogue).

On that above note, in the latter case, Calvin often imagines elaborate and fanciful settings such as alien worlds, and the tone of a lot of these vary between comedic bits of Calvin pestering people by shooting them with darts while his fantasy portrays him as a space hero fighting horrible blobby creatures.

Calvin And Hobbes probably wasn't the FIRST comic strip to follow then-current paleontological debates and scientific course, but it was written at the exact right time of increasing interest in dinosaurs as public consciousness accepted the image of them as clever, quick-moving and fierce creatures instead of the slow-moving brutes doomed to die out from earlier perspectives; while the comic initially did depict them as something akin to retrosaurs, this died away very quickly and the comic was an entry point for becoming a Dinosaur Kid for a lot of people i think

There is often a division between the vibrantly illustrated worlds of Calvin's imagination against the much more dull visuals of school he has to deal with; he frequently has trouble with his school work, he's EXTREMELY prone to acting out and causing mischief at school, and school is often portrayed as a dull, exhausting and tiring thing he hates above everything else. His fantastical worlds are fun and lovingly illustrated; the world he has to actually deal with is at best tiring.

Hobbes is essentially his only friend. Calvin doesn't really seem to want to deal with other people at all (he seems to find it difficult at best and the few times he does, he comes off as out of his depth and uncertain). While he pesters Susie at the best of times, she is also notably the ONLY person he goes out of his way to talk to at all, and some of his comments to her are strongly revealing.

Calvin himself is an EXTREMELY intelligent kid, often discussing deeply philosophical stuff, and its frequently brought up that no one knows why he struggles with schoolwork as much as he does. At one point Susie even raises the question and he gloomily replies that he finds his life is easier if he lets everyone's expectations for him be as low as possible. Interpretations have ranged from him being an undiagnosed kid on the autistic spectrum (not unlikely, given this was written from the mid 80s to mid 90s) to simply reflecting the anxieties of school for many kids of the era.

This strip exists:

#calvin and hobbes #queued

[mortalityplays]

This is a very good illustration of the increasing susceptibility to conspiratorial thought patterns I've been seeing on the left lately. Just because you don't believe there are space marines on Mars doesn't mean you're immune to building imaginary connections between aesthetic or emotional data points and mistaking them for evidence. A lot of well meaning people in my circles have been sharing this story, buying uncritically into the first narrative they encountered. I want to break down why:

Jones' twitter thread was extremely emotional and extremely urgent. The idea of a child being ripped away from his frantic mother and a ticking clock to decide his fate both helped the story to bypass analytical scrutiny. It sends the message 'act now, before it's too late, it's the only compassionate thing to do'.

Her connection to an existing conspiracy (a concerted effort by the state to cover up Covid statistics) creates a strengthening association with the idea that this is also a conspiracy. The thread offers no positive evidence that her son's arrest was a conspiracy, and no positive evidence that his arrest has any connection to her prior experiences.

Jones' allegation that the arrest was retribution for her actions as a whistleblower implicitly identifies her in the reader's mind. A lot could be unpacked about her dispute with the DOH but it doesn't really matter because I don't think most people who circulated this story knew much about it either way. The point is that it anchors her identity in a few key concepts: 'whistleblower', 'covid scientist', 'concerned citizen'. None of these qualities are relevant to the events detailed in the thread (or evidenced in the thread, if we're being really rigorous), but they unconsciously prejudice the reader's assessment of whether to trust or side with her. Simply put, if you are concerned about how covid was handled and/or inclined to support whistleblowers, you are more likely to assume she's credible.

If you dislike and distrust cops, you are primed to accept a narrative in which they are doing something straightforwardly evil. Don't get me wrong, fuck 12, but I say that armed with an enormous preponderance of cases in which we have positive evidence of police acting out of self interest, cruelty, corruption, racism, misogyny, etc. Allowing ourselves to be seduced by the fantasy that they are always always without fail breaking rules and fashing it up in broad daylight only makes us easier to delude and manipulate.

She repeatedly made the point that her son is autistic. Again, if you are autistic or sympathetic to autistic people, you are more likely to be 'warmed up' by this detail and inclined to take her side. I'm not going to say it's irrelevant to the idea that he was being unfairly targeted, but it is overwhelmingly emotionally weighted. And again, it is not evidence that he was unfairly targeted. It's another weight on the scale that tips you to judge the truth value of her story without reality checking.

The example of a meme that she shared is characteristic of a type of online humour that is at least familiar to most of us. If you or your friends make edgy jokes and share tasteless irony memes, or if you've been online for more than like a week, you understand that they're mostly harmless. The idea that this meme could be used as evidence by law enforcement to detain you is ideologically threatening in an immediately relatable way. It evokes a reflex defensive impulse — that's not fair, the cops are wrong, the kid is innocent — bypassing the process of verification. Is this meme the reason he was arrested? Is it the only one he posted? Is it the only reason he was arrested?

All of these factors create a gut-led constellation of information that quickly forms a picture. Because it is being pieced together from multiple subconscious feelings and prejudices, it feels as if it has been evidenced. Because the thread was highly emotional and highly urgent, readers were pressured to jump to rapid conclusions and ask "what can I do to help?" (and the answer, as it almost always is, was 'donate money, quick').

I want to be really clear that I am not saying Jones manufactured any of these effects on purpose. It would be completely within reason that having a young child arrested would send anyone into an emotional tailspin, grasping for reasons this might have happened, leaping to his defense, rallying resources to fight on his behalf. I am not in any way ascribing malice to her actions.

What I'm interested in is the effect that this emotive kneejerk appeal had on people who were unknowingly predisposed to believe that the state of Florida would kidnap a child to punish a scientist for disagreeing with the department of health about covid statistics. That is a baseless conspiracy theory, and a huge number of people in my immediate circles reflexively amplified it.

Personally, I think arrest is a godawful way to respond to a child having a mental health crisis, even if they are seen to pose a violent threat. That still doesn't mean the cops did it at the bidding of a mad dictator in waiting. In the hypothetical parallel universe where it turns out Jones was right and this was all a conspiracy to punish her, it still would not have served the situation to jump to that conclusion on a gut feeling.

Pausing to identify relevant, verifiable facts before sharing a story like this is always warranted, even if you think the person telling it is 'on your side'. The more you worry that questioning the narrative wastes precious time or makes you a bad person, the more you should scrutinise why you are being made to feel that way. Accepting unfounded conspiracies into your worldview is not benign, even if you think the 'targets' deserve it. It erodes your critical perspective and turns you into a vector for the people around you.

tl;dr: you are not immune to baseless conspiratorial thought

#long post #might turn off reblogs on this one I can sense the anons already

[reimenaashelyee]

Thanks so much for the God of Arepo hype yall!!

If you're interested in checking out the rest of my comics, I've got:

The Carpet Merchant of Konstantiniyya: 600 paged historical epic set in 17th century Istanbul and 18th century England, about the life and romance shared by two carpet merchants... until one of them gets turned into a djinn (a ghul/vampire). Sad feels, vampires, gothic fiction, similar to the God of Arepo in terms of scale and tenderness. The original edition is a free webcomic, but the remastered edition is printed in two hardcover tomes.

Seance Tea Party: a coming-of-age autumnal story about a 12 year old girl being left behind as her peers grow up. While playing pretend, she summons the resident ghost in her house, who used to be her childhood imaginary friend. This is a graphic novel you can buy.

My Aunt is a Monster: silly, fun, whimsical adventure comedy about a young blind recently-orphaned girl who dreams of adventure, and who gets sent to a mysterious distant aunt, a former famous adventurer. The aunt has a secret - she's cursed into the form of a monster and has presumed dead for years - but a rival's claim of a monumental discovery forces everyone to go on an adventure of a lifetime. This is also a graphic novel.

Alexander, The Servant & The Water of Life: for 2300 years there is an unbroken tradition of retellings of the life and legends of Alexander the Great, and I'm making the 21st century one!! It's currently an ongoing webcomic.

Plus a bunch of short comics about random stuff.

Follow my newsletter for more comics and ~ process ~ (if you aren't already active on Tumblr)

#comics

[celepom]

Misfit Mansion

By Kay Davault

Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends meets Hilda and the Troll in this spooky and sweet middle grade graphic novel about a monster girl who sneaks out of her foster home and into a human town in search of a forever family but finds more than she bargained for. Despite her monstrous appearance, Iris has never felt like she belongs in a mansion filled with kelpies and gorgons and unicorns. She longs to find a family. Unfortunately, she and her housemates are trapped in a “foster home for horrors” run by former paranormal investigator Mr. Halloway. So, when a human boy named Mathias breaks the house’s sealing spell, Iris and her companions are set free upon the town of Dead End Springs. What Iris doesn’t know is that Mathias is also a paranormal hunter (the kind who seeks to capture and destroy the horrors), or that there are other dangers ahead. As Iris searches for a home, she makes human friends, explores a brand-new world…and stumbles upon a dark secret that Halloway has kept locked in the basement of the house. Will this long-slumbering mystery destroy the family Iris so desperately seeks?

---

A very homey read, about kids in less than ideal situations with their guardians, but when confronted one chooses to change while the other doubles down (luckily, that kid finds a better home away from that toxic guardian).

#comic #graphic novel #fantasy #middle grade #book rec

[befickleforever]

If you liked [inside no 9 episode] watch [film] : a guide. Part 1

(Some of these films go off vibes alone, whilst others are the films that directly inspired the episode. For example, we all know where the wicker man will be included)

If you liked ‘Simon Says’, consider:

- Misery (1990). After a serious car crash, novelist Paul Sheldon is rescued by former nurse Annie Wilkes, who claims to be his biggest fan.

- Sunset Boulevard (1950). An aging silent film queen refuses to accept that her stardom has ended. She hires a young screenwriter to help set up her movie comeback.

- Perfect Blue (1997). A young Japanese singer is encouraged by her agent to quit singing and pursue an acting career, beginning with a role in a murder mystery TV show.

- The King of Comedy (1982). Rupert Pupkin is a failure in life but a celebrity in his own mind, hosting an imaginary talk show in his mother's basement.

- The Human Centipede 2 (Full Sequence) (2011). Martin, a mentally disturbed loner that obsesses over the film The Human Centipede (First Sequence), kidnaps a group of people to create his own 'human centipede' to act out his perverse sexual fantasies.

If you liked ‘The Understudy’ consider:

- Sleuth (1972). This mystery finds Andrew Wyke, a wealthy author of detective novels and game aficionado, facing off against his wife's lover, Milo Tindle, a middle-class hair salon-owner.

- Richard III (1995). A murderous lust for the British throne sees Richard III descend into madness.

- Throne of Blood (1957). Returning to their lord's castle, samurai warriors Washizu and Miki are waylaid by a spirit who predicts their futures.

- Theatre of Blood (1973). After an unsuccessful attempt at suicide, Lionheart sets out to murder all of his critics, each with a different style of death taken from a Shakespeare play.

If you liked ‘The Trial of Elizabeth Gadge’ consider:

- Witchhammer (1970). When a beggar is caught hiding her communion wafer, the hunt for witches begins.

- The Witch (2015). In 1630 New England, panic and despair envelops a farmer, his wife and their children when youngest son Samuel suddenly vanishes.

- Witchfinder General (1968). When Matthew Hopkins is appointed Witchfinder General by the Puritans under Cromwell, he is empowered to travel the countryside with his henchmen and collect a fee for each witch from whom he extracts a confession - a policy which is exploited to the full.

If you liked ‘The Harrowing’ consider:

- Carry on Screaming! (1966). An investigation into the disappearance of several young women leads two bumbling Victorian detectives to the home of Dr Watt and his vampish sister Valeria.

- A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014). Residents of a worn-down Iranian city encounter a skateboarding vampire who preys on men who disrespect women.

If you liked ‘Mr King’ consider:

- The Wicker Man (1973). Sergeant Howie arrives on the small Scottish island of Summerisle to investigate the report of a missing child.

- In The Earth (2021). A scientist and park scout conduct a routine experiment while the world looks for a cure to a lethal virus and as the night progresses, they experience unexplainable things.

- Midsommar (2019). Dani's psychological trauma affects her relationship with Christian, her lover. However, when they visit their friend's ancestral commune in an effort to mend things, it changes their lives forever.

- The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971). Ralph Gower and a local judge are on a quest to get a bunch of possessed kids with a strange fur on their skin under control after they end up killing the locals.

#inside no 9 #in9 #films #movies #film Recs #letterboxd #reece shearsmith #steve pemberton #lists of mine

[babylovepresley]

thinkin’ about you — elvis presley x reader

summary: you are elvis presley’s former lover… at least you think you are. the year is 1960, and he is finally returning home from the service… but you haven’t heard from him since the day he left memphis and got on that plane nearly two years ago. what is left of you both?

word count: 2k

content warnings: 18+ sexuality mentioned, ANGST, possibly an unhealthy relationship, references to religion and god

read & listen along: https://open.spotify.com/track/1fDFHXcykq4iw8Gg7s5hG9?si=c2I7yoRJQMOSZEIrxLHCsg

writer’s note: hiya lovebugs! this is just a little something i conjured up when i was supposed to be doing homework (hehe), and i thought perhaps you’d all like to suffer with me. it’s not my best work, as i have had quite an overwhelming day and this is the best i could produce. this is my first fic posted, and i truly hope you all enjoy! remember requests are always open, and i am forever sending you all plenty of love and light!

dedicated to: my darling friends that promote my obsession with writing angst, though it hurts them in the end <3 (@eliseinmemphis my sincerest apologies lover)

It’s a cold day in March when he comes home; his hair wispy and long, touching the tip of his forehead beneath the large issued cap. When he first went away, the cap seemed to swallow his sleepy head and make him seem like the boy I first met all those years ago— when life was kind and he smiled with his tongue between his teeth. A patron moves to turn the television up, standing on the counter and nearly knocking over a young man’s grits that sat untouched on his plate. The soldier huffs and puffs as the camera follows him; his lean figure cutting through the tv and leaving an ache in me heart. Did the scars from our childhood playing wear off? Did the inside of his left pinky still glow red and raw from the movement of his ring? Does he still think of me?

He swallows, and my own throat constricts watching him. Life had become so difficult after he left— the beginning of us did not matter, I only wanted to get through to the end. And now we’re here, or rather he is. All I can do is stand and watch in our hometown diner, as he glows for the entire world. My coworker comes up beside me, placing her tray down on the crowded counter and side eyeing me.

“Yes Minny?”

“Sugar, I hate to do this… ‘specially today of all days… but—“ always walking on eggshells, Minny was. In fact, I’ve noticed that every other waitress today has been side-eyeing me with pity; wondering what I must have done to him to be here instead of greeting him with open arms, perpetually on my knees for him. The truth is I never did anything to him… and I guess that’s why he never found it important to write to me.

“You need me to close… don’t you?” I smile. I didn’t have it in me to be cruel right now, though I wanted to scream and cry can’t you see I’m busy lamenting a man I don’t know anymore?

“I’m sorry y/n, it’s just that my daughter wanted to stop by the Graceland gates tonight to.. well.. you know…” she trails off, itching an imaginary scratch behind her neck. It isn’t her fault that her daughter looks at him the same way I did, or still do. It’s been a long time since I’ve laid my eyes on him, and I wonder if they still fill with the warmth and affection I once saw him have for me.

“It’s okay Min, I don’t mind at all! I’ll probably just make a cup of tea for myself and clean the jukebox tonight… have a feeling I finally wanna clear out a certain someone’s records….” I giggle, though I’m laced with a bitter agony in my throat; I never wanted to hear his voice again, but I know one sound falling from his pouty lips would cause me to stare in adoration and declare my god, where have you been?

I turn my head back to the television, because I simply cannot bear not looking at him… not after three years of staring out the window and praying to God that he’d somehow be sitting outside my door, waiting for me all the while. He has changed so much; poised and gifted with the confidence that can only affect a young boy who dreamt of the strength and masculinity he exudes. He left me a scared boy, with heavy shoulders that I ached to massage into a restful stature, and came home a man; broad and unashamed. I simply can’t wrap my head around it as the camera pans to his face, spotted with the cold sting of snowflakes as he nods his head in thanks. It’s ridiculous.. I feel jealous of a force of nature simply because they get to live and die on him; when I have faced far more triumphs and little deaths as a result of his person.

Still, he looks afraid as he shuffles through the crowd of women waiting to grab at him. I feel nauseous just looking at it, and I find myself tugging at my uniform in an attempt to deflect from the obvious want situated in each woman's eyes. Many years ago, I would’ve moved through the sweaty crowd gathered by the gates of that airport, and used my handkerchief to wipe the nervous sweat on his eyebrow; my hands ever-so delicate on his cold cheeks. And he’d look up at me and smile, the apples of his cheeks pressing his eyes into a squint; “you miss me lil?”

But now I stand here, as unknown to the world as the words he said to me the first night he pulled me by bare chest to his and mouthed a sonnet only he could tell. Memphis has changed, he has changed, but I haven’t. Maybe that’s why he didn’t write. Maybe that’s why I’m living in the in between; Elvis’ girl or not? Lover or former flame?

The hours pass by with the creaking stools signaling the end and beginning of each meal, my nails making a dull clack against the cracking counter. Before I knew it, the street lights flickered to life, and my coworkers' cars pulled out of the lot, blowing kisses out their windows in a silly “goodnight!” gesture. The diner is lonely without the murmuring of the town, but I find it to be deeply comforting while I clean. The TV has been turned off, and the jukebox unplugged, leaving me with nothing but my pitiful thoughts and slight hiccups as I cry and clean the corner booth.

In the midst of my cry, for him, for me, for his Mother, and for any semblance of a future I had once dreamt of, I failed to notice the front door being pulled open and the slight ting of the bell. The wind from outside climbed my bare legs as I wiped, shouting out a quick “We’re closed honey, I’m sorry!”. Why look up when I always know who it’ll be— whether it be a neighbor, the town drunk or a church choir member.

“Oh… ‘m.. ‘m sorry” the stranger stumbles out, and I can physically feel the soft tapping of his loafers on the sticky linoleum floor. I’d know that voice in death, when the grim reaper kisses me goodnight, I’d be begging him “please.. let me hear his breath one last time”.

With all of my strength I turn to him, staring down my old hero. My spray bottle has long been abandoned, spilling on the floor beneath me and wetting the tips of my white shoe. I couldn’t care less. Nothing could’ve stopped me from following his voice— nothing could have prepared my heart for the sight of him in front of me. I feel the ache of my brows pulling down on my face, and the cold air drifts through my parted lips to remind me that this is real… he’s here. After all this time, he’s here. I’m silent as I watch him distribute his weight; left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

“Ya see me on TV today lil?” His thick voice cuts through the air; still gravelly from the cold morning air he sucked in earlier that day. A part of me wanted to coddle him; coo “oh poor baby” for the pain in his throat. But the other part of me wanted to laugh in his face at the incredulous question. In the end, that’s just what I did.

“Did I- Did I see you on TV Elvis?” I barely manage to get out, as my throat begins to constrict with sobs. Bastard. At least we both are in pain from the words we can’t say, I think to myself.

“W-well I noticed the TV ain’t on.. so I thought I’d ask…”

“You thought you’d ask me if the TV was off because you wanted me to watch you come home today?”

“Baby I know it ain’t been that long,” he chuckles, his hands digging deep into the pocket of his black slacks. I once sewed a hole he tore in those slacks, and I remember the way he kissed my cheek in thanks— I still feel the burn of his lips. “know my girl hasn’t gone all dumb on me”.

My girl. As if he had any right to call me that anymore. My anger bubbles to the surface, as the chemicals I dropped sting my nose. We stand polar opposites of one another. On one end of the diner, we have a lowly waitress who dreamt of a family and a small life but now spends her days covered in bacon grease for the creepy men in town to ogle at. On the other end, with hair still blown back from the influx of winter wind coming through the corner window, stands a god amongst men. He has the world in his hands, and it dawns on me that he could have any family or anyone’s life that he could ever want— small or large it wouldn’t matter, it’s all small to his strong flesh.

Unchanged in my agonizing swirl, I threaten, though no matter how hard I try I could never be crossed with him in tone, “You don’t get to call me that no more Elvis”.

He shuffles uncomfortably, and his lips curl inward with a tremble. He has taken an interest in the floor, and I wonder if he remembers the time he stayed here until 4 am with me scrubbing them down. He looks at the tiles just as intently as he did then, though now it seems like he feels just as dirty as them.

“I ain’t… I m-meant to write you y/n honest—“

“Oh you MEANT to write me, huh?”

“Yes! Yes I-I-I did I just got caught up ‘s all…”

“Caught up?”

‘Yes Lil! Caught up!” he extends his arms out to his sides; desperate for a positive response.

I can’t hold back the building sobs anymore, it hurts too much— makes me want to reach my arms out to him like a child and cry for help. I’ve bared my soul to him in far too many ways, and he deserves to see the mess he’s made of me.

“For two years E?” the tears sting my cheeks, as I hiccup in a breath.

For a moment, I see him take a step toward me. Ever the holder, Elvis always showed love through his touch. There would be nights I’d wake up sobbing and afraid at the idea of never getting to feel the velvety touch of his fingertips in or against me ever again. Those nights still haunt me, and the idea of him touching me is almost too much. No man has touched me since him, and I’ll never want anyone else to ever again. I move from his reach, and walk beside him with a wipe of my nose as he panics.

“B-Baby I tried! T- The Colonel”

“The colonel,” I stop in my tracks and smile spitefully with a small shake of my head “It’s always the Colonel E, isn’t it?”

“Oh c’mon y/n whas’ that supposed to mean?'' he follows behind me as I stomp past him and behind the counter, desperately grabbing at anything to appear unaffected; but he knows me. Elvis knows me more intimately than I know myself, and I’ve come to resent him for it. I can’t bear his cluelessness, and I can’t live with all of this hurt inside of me for any longer.

“ELVIS! He has taken EVERYTHING FROM YOU. Money, your Mother, your life, me! You’ll just let him take and take and take,” I throw the bulk of napkins across the counter and into his chest in anger, though I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt him. Strange how he seemed fine all the while I was dying for a single word from him. “until there’s nothing left of you— of us!”

I move around the counter, and it feels as if I don’t keep moving I’ll collapse in a heap of tears. My finger jabs into his chest, and he flinches with the intrusion. For the first time tonight, I see tears forming in his eyes, yet his stained cheeks indicate they have been falling for a long time as he struggles to inhale from his own pitiful, silent sobs.

“One word from you Elvis, that’s all I wanted.” I sob, barely coherent as I lay my hands on his chest. He grabs them, and the shift in my stomach nearly makes me lurch in pain. I feel him now, so real and warm and so mine. I could never forget his touch, and now that I have it again I doubt I’ll be able to breathe without it. We cry quietly for a moment, holding one another as if we were foreign to each other; like he hasn’t consumed by body and soul whole and left it to rot in his chest.

It’s silent save for his uneven breathing and the gentle scuff of my feet; unable to stay still as my body betrays itself. I pull away, and he mumbles a “no, no honey stay” as I wipe my eyes and regain my strength. He paws at my apron, trying to pluck me closer before I scold him for his mistakes.

“Elvis, please just go. I-I’ve lived without you, I’ve cried each time I saw your house, or-or heard your records. I’ve grieved you before you were even gone, and I know I can do it again. So please baby, please just go” I whimper out, smoothing down my skirt and pinching my thighs beneath the frilly mess. I can’t look at him, though my eyes thirsted for the pinch of his brow for so long.

There are very few women who can say Elvis Presley laid himself in front of her and wept. I’ve seen him cry before, in fear and anger, and each time I have taken him into my arms and quelled him into relief. But nothing could prepare me for the sight laid out before me.

My man, a god, falls to his knees in front of me and cries with outstretched palms, “Do ya think I’ve forgotten ‘bout you?”

His eyes appear to burn as they flutter closed with a gulp, his large hands gripping onto the bottom of my skirt, “Oh God baby, ‘ve messed up somethin’ awful, I know.” he cries out, wiping his nose with his sleeve like a boy. A chuckle builds in my chest at the antic, as it reminds me of the boy I’ve cried for all along. He licks his lips, panicking at the thought of rejection. “ ‘ve always tried to be so good for ya and look what I’ve done now… look what your satnin’s done now…” He chokes out, ever the fallen angel.

His arms wrap around me, and I stumble forward with the force of his pull. It’s no use in fighting, I think to myself, I can never purge myself from the feeling he gives me. I don’t think I’ll ever want to— I can never shed the feel of him. The feel of Elvis; an irrevocable heartbreak. My upper body falls on top of him, my breasts pressed against his strong shoulder as my hands slide flat down his back; the wool of his jacket slightly burning my wrists. I feel his cries against my hips, as his arms lock around the backs of my legs; hands clasped in fear that I’ll soon pull away. His shoulders shake as I lean over him, and chills run down my flesh as his thumbs soothe the backs of my thighs.

Against my skirt he wails, “Kiss me. Please God, kiss my sins away. ‘ve done so bad by you baby— let me know I ain’t the devil incarnate..” his nails dig into the thickness of my thighs in desperation.

Who am I to deny him?

#elvis in my eyes <3 #elvis presley #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis headcanons #elvis fanfiction #austin elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley angst #elvis x reader angst #elvis fanfic

[heinzpilsner]

Okay, another part of 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' series here! And I want to assure you that even though it looks deceptively like 'Roasting beach Mai' series to the unaided eye, it's actually not the case. The differences are here. Somewhere. Probably.

I roast Zuko too.

Anyway, in the last part, Mai said 'hey', and Zuko said 'are you cold', and Mai slapped Zuko's hand off, so I guess this leaves their relationship status in the border area.

So, what's next?

Well, despite the fact that their interactions keep going quite actively after this, we're not gonna see any real relationship progression for quite some time.

So, I suggest to take this as another opportunity to yell at study the characters instead.

And it opens with the roasting of Ty Lee.

(The structure of the beach polylogue makes it quite difficult to build a laconic presentation of the context, so... Let's just rely on our memory this time, shall we?)

Zuko: "You're stuck in your little 'Ty Lee world' where everything's great all the time." Mai: "Zuko, leave her alone."

You know, this moment almost made me suspect that Mai cares about the other girl! It would actually make my "she can't care about anyone but herself" hypothesis wrong, which would leave only one explanation for the "bring me food" moment (That is, Mai just didn't care about Zuko in particular.)

But then, after Ty Lee got emotional and cried, and there was no defender for her among their group, Mai decided it was a good time to criticize her as well.

She had a choice between expressing her annoyance (and intelligence) and sparing Ty Lee's feelings, and she prefered the former. Emotional support of her upset friend wasn't even among the options, apparently.

So, I suspect, the "defense" of Ty Lee was hardly more than another instance of scolding Zuko for being angry.

Apparently, Mai just gets disturbed (and hence annoyed) by any display of vivid negative emotions in her close circle. And if there is one thing in life she truly cares about, it's her own emotional comfort.

Simply put, Mai needs fun and pleasure, and all this dramatic shit around only sucks her energy out.

Smart choice of a boyfriend, by the way.

Pffft.

("But she said she cares about Zuko in the end!", I can hear someone protesting. Don't worry, we'll get to it.)

Mai: "I don't believe in auras." Zuko: "Yeah, you do not believe in anything."

That's a curious accusation here.

I wouldn't be surprised if there were times in the past when Zuko tried to talk about something important for him with Mai but recieved a cynical reaction.

But there's no proof for this, obviously.

Besides, as we soon learn, Zuko is not that good at identifying true sources of his frustrations.

It's still my headcanon though.

Mai: "Oh, well, I'm sorry I can't be as high-strung and crazy as the rest of you."

But... What believing or not believing in things has to do with being high-strung?  This answer just sounds so unnatural in the context. As if Mai responds not to Zuko's words, but to writer's plan her own thoughts here.

(Quite a typical behavior for an egocentric though, when I think about it.)

Still, why would Mai want to change such a convinient topic? Cynical people who proud themselves on their intelligence love talking about how stupid it is to believe in things. It's basically that Mai 'auras' answer was about. And then suddenly this awkward shift.

It's a shame, actually. To me, it would be much more interesting to hear about Mai's beliefs than to focus on imaginary "not expressing your feelings" problem.

Also, I love how Mai just casually called Azula crazy. So much fear here, if you catch my meaning.

Zuko: "I'm sorry, too. I wish you would be high-strung and crazy for once instead of keeping all your feeling bottled up inside."

When. When Mai ever kept her feeling bottled up inside? When she's bored - she says so repeatedly. When she doesn't like something - she criticizes it right away or glares at you fiercely. When you make a scene at the party - she yells at you "for once" (even though she was bored and you put quite an exciting show here, which makes her reaction kinda contr-intuitive. How interesting of an interlocutor Ruon-Jian was, anyway?)

The fact that you can't find among the feelings she expresses something you looking for, or don't find their expression intense enough is a different question entirely.

The fact that she avoids discussing problems you want to discuss too.

For some reason, you just keep barking up the wrong tree here, Zuko. I wonder if you ever heard about different nervous activity types. Or different life views. Or different anything, really.

But this is not the main problem here, obviously.

Zuko: "She just called your aura dingy. Are you gonna take that?"

Yep, Mai's self-worth is not affected as heavily by other people's opinions as yours, Zuko. What a terrible tragedy.

Mai: "What do you want from me?"

A really good question. What do you want from Mai now, Zuko? A magical transformation into Katara a person you wish her to be? Or an explanatory note for thinking and reacting not exactly like you'd prefer?

Surprise, she doesn't owe you anything! Your frustration with Mai's personality is your own problem, and you'd better start asking yourself what you really can do about it.

Take your love life in your own hands, boy, and I didn't mean it like that, you perverts or stop terrorizing your not-quite-ex-girlfriend for not meeting your emotional needs.

(You still didn't apologize to Ty Lee, by the way. Kinda ooc of you.)

Mai: "You want a teary confession about how hard my childhood was? Well, it wasn't. I was a rich only child who got anything I wanted..."

Well, this part is definitely truth.

Mai: "...as long as I behaved and sat still, and didn't speak unless spoken to. My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about."

Ahhh, this part though is much more tricky.

You see, for all we know, Mai's mother could just try and prevent Mai from throwing kitchen knives at her father's important guests or from saying that their make-up is abomination. Poor little Mai though would remember it as a terrible oppresion of her self-expression for the rest of her life.

More importantly though... Even if what Mai says here objectively took place in the past, I highly doubt what it's a good explanation for her demeanor.

I mean, Toph has quite a similar background, and... Did you see Toph?

Honestly, it looks to me more like a natural temperament kind of thing. It's just the way Mai is. Maybe environment affected her to a certain degree, but I don't think its influence was crucial.

Sometimes her emotions are more intense, especially during fights, but it doesn't mean she hides some kind of oppressed passionate girl underneath her languid mask or something.

So stop trying to dig her out, Zuko, it's getting embarrassing.

Azula: "You have a controlling mother who had certain expectations, and if you strayed from them, you were shut down. That's why you're afraid to care about anything, and why you can't express yourself". Kinda cheated with this one, didn't I

Okay... first of all.

Why. Just why on earth everyone keeps saying Mai doesn't express herself? Are you blind, people? Or maybe you're deaf?  The Mai I know is one big walking talking act of self-expression!

The real problem here is that apart from her annoyance, boredom and hunger she doesn't have much to express in the first place. Because in reality, she's no more than a hedonistic self-centred brat whose lack of proper occupations and interests in life left her on the verge of depression.

And sorry, local beach ghost of an amateur psychoanalytic who's currently possessing Azula, but most likely Mai's mother's "tyranny" has nothing to do with it. Breaking news: not everything in human psychology can be explained by mommy or daddy issues.

I'd assume here much more prosaic explanation. That is, during the last decade, Mai was mostly focused on her school life, while in her free time, knife throwing and passive entertainments were her only hobbies. So, when the school ended and nothing else started, she suddenly found herself in a vacuum she didn't know what to fill with.

And since Mai is a spoiled infantile, she's always waiting for something to happen, or for someone to give her something to do instead of asking herself that she can do to change the situation fundamentally.

And apparently, being in "love" with Zuko is her only real entertainment nowadays. That's why she hey-ed him so soon after the break-up - Mai's life's emptiness reached the 'uncomfortably painful' stage at this point, so even the emotional discomfort caused by Zuko's behavior was more preferable than this.

And I don't know much about Mai being "afraid to care about anything", but I can say a couple of things about her being incapable of caring about anyone.

Growing up as a rich only child, Mai became used to the idea that everything around is about her. She's always focused on herself and her own needs, and subconsciously expects the same attention from other people (from her romantic partner especially).

It rarely occurs to her that people around may have their own interests, and "listening to Mai's complaints and entertaining her" are not among them. When the reality reminds Mai about the fact though, she just gets annoyed by such a nuisance.

I start to suspect now that her "are you cold" question in "The Awakening" was actually not about Zuko's comfort, but about Mai playing her unusual new role of a caring girlfriend. So, when her performance didn't get the expected appreciation, she immediately got frustrated - kind of like Zuko with his seashell, actually.

(Except that Zuko after this thought about something Mai really would want and went to get some ice cream. While the boy is not exactly a paragon of personal maturity himself, on his girlfriend's background, he honestly starts to look like one.)

Even after Mai's "I care about you" declaration, when she really tried to support Zuko in "Nightmares and Daydreams", it sounded like "I might be hungry for a whole tray of fruit tarts". It would be funny if it wasn't so sad, really. She had a vague idea that she's supposed to do something when her partner is upset, but even with it, she couldn't really break the egocentrical shell around her mind and see the difference between her own desires and desires of other person.

Pheeew. I finished.

Of course, all this doesn't make Mai a monster or something. The girl is only 16, and even if she wasn't, the way her personality was formed is a result of many objective circumstances.

If we look at the situation the way Mai's psychologist could, there's no point in blaming or shaming the girl - only to help her realize the problems with her attitudes and offer alternative ways of thinking.

But I am not Mai's psychologist. And I am pissed by how the episode ignores the real problem with the character and helps to promote the old pseudo-psychological myth that just blaming your parents is enough to "understand yourself".

My dear beach ghost, Mai is already a person with infantile way of thinking! She doesn't need an extra encouragement for accusing someone else in her problems.

It's not you who have to deal with her after this, you know.

Spare poor Zuko, the boy has a lot on his plate as it is.

Annnd I guess it's as good a place to stop as any other. We'll start the next part of 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' right from Mai's... peculiar reaction to Azula's words. Yay.

Thanks for your attention?..

Fortunately I ignore all notifications.

#atla #zuko #mai atla #anti maiko

[torturedcoveydepartment]

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT ANALYSIS

I had some left over time in class today, and guess what. EVERYTHING about the tortured poets department is so clear to me after my deep-dive analysis on the little snippet of lyrics that Taylor posted on her socials. The glass isn’t stained anymore.

“So I enter into evidence. My tarnished coat of arms”

This paints us a picture of a courtroom, which applies to the terms used, as well as the song- and album’s title. She enters into evidence, which she also understands. Tarnished is synonymous with losing luster and “shine”. Coat of arms is a symbol which brings honor to family name (often seen on weapon shields). Taylor Swift’s name has been beaten multiple times by critics and slammed with hate storms. However, she’s still standing. But with a tarnished image ish.

“My muses, acquired like bruises. My talisman and charms”

You might think of muse as a good old friend - which is totally true. But it’s in fact a person or imaginary being that brings the artist inspiration. Those muses acquired like bruises, and from past albums we know colors are significant. “And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue” as an example from All too well (10 minutes version). Therefore, my interpretation is that the people who betrayed her, or treated her unfairly, which she later on has written songs about are referred to as bruises - and that’s what she’s in court for. People having opinions on “the morality” of her past lovers being metaphorically written into music. Talismans is an object that brings luck. Keeping the owner safe. As an example, her favorite number 13. My first thought when analyzing this was “OH MY GOD WITCHY EVERMORE” btw.

“The tick, tick, tick of the love bomb. My veins of pitch black ink”

A timer before the relationship blows up. After all there’s something called “love bombing”, a use of overt affection to manipulate the other part into staying. We can also see former usage like of ticking noise such as “I laid the groundwork and then just like CLOCKWORK. The dominoes cascaded in a line” and “Tick tock on the clock I pace down your block. I broke my own heart cause’ you were too polite to do it”The pitch black ink is 100% a wave to creativity and her thoughts flowing into her art. An insight into how her mind works. This supports my thought of the song being about the world’s judgement.

“All’s fair in love and poetry. Sincerely the chairman of the tortured poets department”

There’s a saying “all’s fair in love and war” which points to a situation where people don’t follow the usual rules of behavior, an event where you don’t have to obey. Taylor has replaced war with poetry, which is so incredibly beautiful. Sticking with rules isn’t required in poetry. The entire point is your freedom of self-expression. AND THAT’s why it’s the tortured poets department. The feeling of being told what’s right and wrong about THEIR EMOTIONS. The chairman is the one in charge of the committee or organization, and they are stating this. The world’s critical structured thinking is suffocating.

This might be all wrong. BUT I DON’T KNOW IT FEELS REASONABLE? Taylor Swift is such a TALENTED, MASTERMIND, MASTERPIECE, BEAUTIFUL ARTIST

#I’m such a poet for understanding #taylor’s version #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #swifties #the eras tour #eras tour #reputation #speak now #red #lover #1989 tv #taylor swift debut #ttpd #analysis #music

[stardustshimmer]

Could I have a list of your ocs? I don't think I know all of them 😭

I gotchu I gotchu!

OCs of mine as of now:

Meladee (Metadede fan child, princess of Dream Land)

Caraselle (dancer, circus performer)

Abra (Caraselle's pet bunny and performing partner)

Dazzle (music girl who I still need to find a solid design for)

Queen Somnia (former ruler of the kingdom high above Dream Land)

ZeeZee (formerly Queen Somnia's loyal servant wizard, now just a powerless cat living his life)

Clarice, aka Miss Mushroom (strange cappy living alone in a cottage waiting for her next victi- oop, I mean kind visitor)

Palette Knight (imaginary friend of Kirby and Adeleine made of nothing but paper and color)

Aaaaaaand I'm pretty sure that's about it.

#stardust's mystical mailbox

[melodythebunny]

Blu has an imaginary friend. But they might not be so imaginary as Steven has been hearing a child's giggle. Seeing glimpses of a little girl disappear. He knows it's not his daughter.

It’s been weeks since the sightings. Months since Blu began talking about her friend. The former villain wasnt sure of what to make of it. It was normal for kids to have one, even close to their preteen years. But none of them had actually been REAL. Things would go missing around the house. Messages scratched into the walls. Of course, blu got into trouble in the beginning. But now he knows she wasn’t the one vandalizing everything.

What made matters stranger, no one else seemed to hear the giggling. Not that he knew of anyway. Yet given the looks squeaky was given him, he had heard them too.

#ghostly fiend au #yea i gave it an au name #wordgirl next gen #next gen au #blu #blu boxleitner #steven boxleitner #erraticeris #fic prompt #wordgirl au #wordgirl oc #wordgirl #ghost #squeaky #my writing #my fic

[rafent]

♡ what if we were both dragons and we

High Priest / Dragon ♀ ♂

An exemplary child of dragons that can transform, create Corrupted, earth puppets, awaken emblems, and even rouse them. In short terms: a prodigy. Identifies more as a Divine Dragon due to their Lythos upbringing but has no qualms with their Fell Dragon blood

In true avatar kid fashion, gender is dependent on the player. If the chosen avatar is male, then this child is female. If the chosen avatar is female, then they are male. Looks the same as both genders. In this case, they are female!

Feels the closeness of her bonds and sees no need for formalities. Blunt, innocently unguarded, and refers to everyone by first name including her own father, which irks Rafal to no end. Alear remains the sole and mysterious exception

Both parents, Alear and Rafal, are miraculously present in her life. Like the former she is a kind soul and feels responsibility to protect others. Supposedly does not resemble the latter much, a fact that Rafal is relieved for...

She is exceedingly confident in her prospects of victory and does not entertain the possibility that either she or her allies will lose. "We'll win no matter what. On my power as a Divine Dragon, that's a promise"—a favorite saying of hers. She is also fond of sweets. Perhaps resembling one particular father in these respects

Character Arc: One distant millennia in the future, a day will come where Elyos is upturned. Emptied of peace and its usual protectors. With both Alear and Rafal the most powerful dragons lost to the sands of time, a new Divine One must inherit the world they sought to protect. She will rise to the occasion

Grew up speaking to 'the nice spirits in the rings' that no-one else can see. It is a secret kept to herself in the manner of imaginary friends. Though born twinless, she is not alone; they are in a sense her many kind older brothers and sisters

Army Superlative(s): Struggles the hardest to wake up on time, worst split ends in the army, likes to be alone the least

#◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 ╱ meme. #alyration #“why does the divine one call you babygirl” i too would care to know this #rafal needs at least one kid he loves but that gets on his nerves and ofc it's the one he has with alear #also one of the few rafal babies who actually has him as a stable presence in her life courtesy of his paired ending #she comes out pretty normal considering she IS a rafalkid

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

I am watching Daisy Jones & the Six rn, a fictional band which was really popular in the 70s but had a fallout and no one answered why, until 20 years later when they interview the band members and people involved with them, a documentary of sorts.

And I love that sort of thing.

So, idea: Bruce was a brilliant scientist and one day, he disappeared from the face of the earth (on the day of the gamma bomb test). They make a documentary about Bruce Banner in the 80s/90s.

None of his still living family members wanted to participate.

They pull in some other people.

Elementary school teacher: "He was gifted from a young age. Always on top of his class. Could read before he was four years old. But he wasn't really sociable. He didn't have any friends, no. The other kids quickly saw him as a target and ganged up on him."

"It was usually his mom who picked him up. Brian Banner, his father, was known to... Not be a pleasant person. A very angry and also insecure man.”

Former neighbor, “The neighborhood wasn't really a community. Except for church services, maybe. But yeah, you could hear screams from the Banner house very often. Mr and Mrs Banner went out a lot and the boy stayed with the Nanny. Highly unpleasant person as well. You didn't see her often but you knew that you just didn't want to talk with her.”

Bartender, “Brian Banner was a regular. Nobody liked him because he got really aggressive when drunk. And loud. He would often complain about his son, making claims about him being a monster. It was at these moments I was glad he was at the bar instead of at home.”

Former neighbor: “Rebecca did sport a black eye every now and then, no amount of make-uo was going to conceal that. Plus she wore long-sleeved shirts even in summer. She was a good woman. She didn't deserve what happened to her. But yes, the clues that something like this could happen were there.”

Reporter: “What happened?”

Police Officer #1: “We got a call. An accident with one person dead. We arrived at the scene and we all knew that this was no accident.”

Police Officer #2: “He was still kneeling beside her bleeding body. His hands, his face, his clothes, they were all covered in blood. I gave him a blanket, guided him away to our car. He didn't show any signs of emotions. But tears were running down his face. Suddenly, he said ‘She didn’t slip. "He killed her’.”

Police Officer #3: “I remember him. I couldn't ever forget that case. I was with him at the station while we waited for his aunt. He was sitting there all alone, wrapped in a blanket so I decided to get him a hot chocolate. You could see that he had it tough in life. There were bruises on his arms, some handshapped. I brought the hot chocolate over to him and he was holding out his arm. Was muttering something along the lines of ‘I can't find it’. I never understood it.”

Reporter: “You were his middle school teacher?”

Teacher #1: “Yes, I was.”

Reporter: “What do you remember about him?”

Teacher #1: “He was a real troublemaker. Not because of his grades, but he would cause scenes because he only ever wanted to work alone, which backfired multiple times. And his constant mumbling!”

Reporter: “Mumbling?”

Teacher: “Yes! He would talk to himself so often, even during class! And then he had the audacity to not even pay attention to the lesson!”

Schoolmate #1: “I was in the same class as him.”

“Ohh, yes, he mumbled to himself so often! Not even himself, his imaginary friend. Imaginary friend! We were teenagers and the guy still had an imaginary friend. Probably because no one else would willingly spend time with him.”

“Hulk. He always called him Hulk, yeah. Even wrote that name down in his notebook he always carried around.”

“He had this notebook and he would write in it whenever he could. Even during class.”

“I don't know what he wrote in it anymore. Some sort of equations.”

Carla, schoolmate: “He stepped in when Ken, the school bully, harrassed me. He didn't have to do that, but he did anyway.”

“Well, they… they beat him up. He had to go to the hospital. Broken ribs. But once he came back, he asked me if I was okay!”

“What I said? Erm, stuff I regret saying. I don't want to talk about it. We were teenagers and I had a lot to deal with already. I had my own insecurities and your reputation was really important back in school. It wasn't fair, yes, but I was just a girl.”

“He was a good person. Sure, he was weird, but he did not deserve to be bullied. Nobody does.”

Reporter: “How do you know Bruce Banner?”

Former college student #1: “We were roommates during college.”

Reporter: “What was he like?”

Former college student #1: “Smart. Passionate. Awkward. He was great at what he did, a real favorite amongst teachers. He studied with Stoddard, another gamma scientist. Stoddard was always jealous of Banner, because he worked much harder but Banner was the one who got all the praise.”

“It wasn't that Banner was lazy, he was just a genius who just instantly understood everything it seemed. When he had a problem, he would immediately try to solve it.”

Reporter: “How do you know Bruce Banner?”

“We were friends during college.”

“We had a study group in college and we would spend the weekends together too sometimes.”

“We were all nerds, which is why it was so easy to talk together. The rest? They didn't understand us. But we understood each other.”

Former college student #3: “We had fun sharing our interests, sharing knowledge, getting into rambles, going into hypothetical scenarios.”

Former college student #2: *rubbing the back of his neck* “What we would do in our free time together? Ehh.”

Former college student #3: “Drugs.”

Former college student #2: “It was the 70s and burnt out college students. I’m sure that’s all that you need.”

Former college student #1: “Once, I hadn't seen him for three days. I didn't think much of it until he came back. He looked really shaken up and spaced-out. Told me he was at a cafe three towns over. Apparently he had no idea how he got there and just walked back.”

“If he went to parties? Usually not. Except when he did. See, most of the time he was really timid. He was sure of himself, but still introverted. But when he did go out? The guy went all the way. Would even ask me if I wanted to come with him, which I declined. He was like a completely different person.”

Former college student #2: “We had a great time together. Parties were so fun! He really knew how to charm the ladies. It was like Clark Kent and Superman, one second an unassuming guy, the next, he knew how to read the room and what to say to people to get what he wants as if he could read their minds.”

Former college student #3: “Sometimes we would drive to a casino, he would make some money and afterwards we would get something to eat.”

Former college student #2: “And sometimes… Sometimes it seemed more like possession than a superpower. I remember one time we were in the car, mentally not 100% present and he asked really panicked ‘Where am I? How did I get here?’. And that whole confident demeanor? It was gone.”

Former college student #1: “Yes, this was not the only occurrence. Sometimes he would become… childish? He would talk in a few word sentences. I blamed it on sleep deprivation but when I asked him about it, he told me he didn't remember.”

Journalist: “What happened after Dr. Banner’s college time is mostly speculation. What we do know is that he tried to get funding for his research but was declined. As to what his idea consisted of, we have no idea. Eventually he would join the government and this was the last officially known thing about him. His contact with friends and family members became less and less. Of course, he had co-workers that would probably know more, but even the ones working with him are mostly classified and the ones we do know of were unable to be contacted. Eventually a missing person report was filed - and immediately closed. Did he die? Is he held captive? Did he see something he was not supposed to see? As of now, we don't have the answers. But there is hope that we one day will.”

#bruce banner #marvel 616 #marvel #marvel comics #marvel fanfiction #the incredible hulk #incredible hulk #hulk #gamma system #brian banner #rebecca banner #tw blood mention #tw death #tw past abuse #marvel au #earth 616 #616 bruce banner

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

Cyno - Verses and Headcanons Masterlist 2024

Canon Compliant Timeline

Born in a polygynous household, Cyno was raised in a nomadic tribe from the desert. Most of his childhood was spent playing chase with animals and sneaking into tombs, through which he developed a strong physique and a penchant for exploration and the ancient languages found in the ruins. Because of his looks, he was often threatened and persecuted, and he had to adjust his behavior accordingly to survive. To overcome his loneliness, he made up an imaginary friend in his mind.

Boarded at the Akademiya at the age of 10, Cyno floundered trying to find a Darshan in which he could fit. Struggling to make friends, he was manipulated by his seniors and led into a trap at the Temple of Silence, where he was forced to make a pact with the spirit of a High Priest of Hermanubis.

Following the ritual, his combat skills greatly improved. Under the tutelage of Master Cyrus, Cyno overcame and tamed the spirit residing within him and soon joined the order of the Matra. His climb to leadership was quick and earned him an infamous reputation.

As the newly appointed General Mahamatra, Cyno continued his studies under the Spantamad Darshan and befriended Tighnari. During this time he begins to play the Genius Invokation Trading Card Game and becomes enamored with the game.

Around two years before the beginning of the game, Cyno is summoned by his master and sent to Mondstadt to help a former senior student of Cyrus, Lisa. Here, Cyno is introduced to Collei and uses his own skills to seal the entity infused inside her by Dottore. Cyno offers to take her back with him to Sumeru, and leaves her in the custody of Tighnari at Gandharva Ville.

Cyno is 18 years old at the time of the Prologue, 20 years old at the beginning of Chapter III, and 21 at the beginning of Chapter IV.

"Thicker than Blood" Canon Divergent Timeline

Applies to all interactions with: Collei ( @mmriesoftvat ), Tighnari ( @starscrxssed )

Born in a polygynous household, Cyno was raised in a nomadic tribe from the desert. Most of his childhood was spent playing chase with animals and sneaking into tombs, through which he developed a strong physique and a penchant for exploration and the ancient languages found in the ruins. Because of his looks, he was often threatened and persecuted, and he had to adjust his behavior accordingly to survive. To overcome his loneliness, he made up an imaginary friend in his mind.

Boarded at the Akademiya at the age of 10, Cyno floundered trying to find a Darshan in which he could fit. Struggling to make friends with the only exception of Tighnari, he was manipulated by his seniors and led into a trap at the Temple of Silence, where he was forced to make a pact with the spirit of a High Priest of Hermanubis.

Following the ritual, his combat skills greatly improved. Under the tutelage of Master Cyrus, Cyno overcame and tamed the spirit residing within him and soon joined the order of the Matra. His climb to leadership was quick and earned him an infamous reputation.

As a Matra, Cyno continued his studies under the Spantamad Darshan.

Around two years before the beginning of the game, Cyno is summoned by his master and sent to Mondstadt to help a former senior student of Cyrus, Lisa. Here, Cyno is introduced to Collei and uses his own skills to seal the entity infused inside her by Dottore. Cyno offers to take her back with him to Sumeru, and leaves her in the custody of Tighnari at Gandharva Ville.

Cyno becomes the new General Mahamatra and receives his Electro Vision.

Collei's wariness of Cyno convinces him to improve his sense of humor to help others ease up in his presence. Cyno begins to tell bad jokes.

Cyno is 18 years old at the time of the Prologue, 20 years old at the beginning of Chapter III, and 21 at the beginning of Chapter IV.

General All-Verses Headcanons List

Small Things Cyno Enjoys

Cyno Cannot Swim

Cyno and TCG

About Amber and Gliders

Favorite Fruit

Cyno's Dirty Secret

Santa Hermanubis (crack HC)

Cyno's Love Language

Cyno Knows Your Weight

Cyno the Storyteller

Cyno Cleans Like a Serial Killer

The General Mahamatra's Secret (crack HC)

Cyno's Spare Hat (crack HC)

Some Likes

Sleep Headcanons

Cyno's Drinking Game

Cyno's Childhood Pet

Cyno's Shadowgraphy

Cyno's Biological Family

Cyno's Childhood Timeline

How Cyno Became a Matra

Cyno's Past of Persecution and His Real Name

Cyno's Imaginary Friend

The strange beliefs of little Cyno

Misconceptions and Headcanons

Cyno's Body Headcanons

Cyno's Combat Skills

Interview with Cyno

Cyno and Hermanubis Headcanons

The Possession of Hermanubis Details

Relationships Headcanons

Easiest Ships

Elemental Synergy with Vision Holders

Cyno is polygynous

Food Preferences Between Friends

Cyno as the Middle Man

Cyno and Candace ( @grislyintentions )

Cyno's Pet Names

Cyno's Turn Ons/Turn Offs

Verse-specific Headcanons

Final Fantasy VII Verse Headcanons / Pt. 2

"From the Start" Canon Divergent Verse Headcanons

Ark Verse Headcanons

Modern Verse Headcanons

"Thicker than Blood" Canon Divergent Manga Verse Headcanons

Verses Page

#v18 || genshin impact #gi01h || cyno [headcanons]

[dancing--in--therain]

Auburn locks played softly with the breeze as y/n sat there on their rooftop, lost in nostalgia.

A year ago ,this very same day, she had been sitting here laughing with the most important person in her life. 

She softly breathed out with her mouth, breath clouding in the cold december air. 

She could almost hear her voice, could imagine what she would've said if she had found her in this sorry state. "Ah ah is that a sad face...? Tell me who it was ill go beat them up." And then Aria would laugh, her sad mood dissipating. Then she would pull out a warm thermos of hot chocolate out of seemingly nowhere and they would sit together for hours and hours, talking about everything and nothing. Yelan always knew how to make her feel better. A silent tear slipped down her cheek. 

 Yelan was someone out of a dream, a surreal fantasy, the kind of friend you only dream of. And she had that. And very stupidly she also lost that. She ruined the most beautiful love of her life. 

 She remembered that day. That dark, fateful day where everything fell apart. They had fight earlier as well, but none as serious and heavy as that. The sky was overcast, as if the clouds were trying to shield the heavens from witnessing the tragic ruin of something so beautiful. 

 If time could reverse, she would go and prevent her from saying those needlessly harsh words, the petty insults and stop the flow of words from her mouth that deliberately poked at her paining scars. 

'And she was right after all. He didn't really care for me. I should've accepted her proposal. Should've run away with her.' She thought bitterly.

 A cold wind new harshly, and y/n pulled her jacket closer. 

 "If only...."she thought "If only I could go back and fix everything."

A lone tear slid down her face as she reminisced about her past. A cold wind blew and she pulled her jacket closer, plunging her into another memory of her. How warm her hugs would be. How everytime her pensive thoughts captured her mind and refused to let go, she used to hold her close until the despondent thoughts were replaced by her soft reassurances.

Creaking of the rooftop door interrupted the chilly silence. For a second, she let herself imagine that it was her, yelan, and she could apologise and beg at her feet until all was right. Tell her she was right all along and it was her fault.

"Y/n?"

It took y/n a few moments to realise that those words are not imaginary.

She veered around, like a woman who was plunged into her dearest dreams and worst nightmares.

And there she was. Bundled up in the same white jacket she had been wearing all these months ago, when they had fought.

She could not contain herself anymore. Her sobs burst out her, her pain, sorrow and regret flowing in little rivulets down her face.

She did not know when yelan had moved, or when she put her arms around her, only that she felt more at home than she ever has in his arms. She sobbed her heart out on her former best friend's shoulder, only uttering 'im sorry' and 'i missed you' between sobs.

"Oh y/n......." yelan said as she pulled her closer, "I forgive you. I love you too much to not."

And so even though they had a lot to talk about, a lot of trust to be rebuild, y/n knew they would be okay.

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#genshin impact angst #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yelan x you #genshin yelan #yelan x reader #yelan genshin impact #yelan × fem!reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader